i 1^- :) % THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY, Princeton, N. J. ■ Qfei^fe^^3^?^§=^fei<§^^3i<&fe^(S=^0 BX 5037 .H37 1839 Hervey, James, 1714-1758. The works of the Rev. James Hervey, A.M. ^. 8 «tl ■tr i* JL.'^-^ THE WORKS OP THE / REV. JAMES HERVEY, A.M. 1^ RECTOR OF WESTON-FAVELL, NORTHAMPTONSHIRE. CONTAINING MEDITATIONS AMONG THE TOMBS REFLECTIONS OX A FLOWKll GAllDEN. A DESCANT UPON CREAT|f»N. CONTEMPLATIONS ON THE NIGHT. — CONTEMPLATIONS ON THE STAllRY HEAVENS. A WINTER- PIECE THERON AND ASPASIO. SERMONS. — MISCFLLANEOUS TRACTS, AND LETTERS. EDINBURGH: PUBLISHED BY THOMAS NELSON. MDCCCXXXIX. ♦ V PEXITGETOIT CONTENTS. MEDITATIONS AND CONTEMl'LAi'XONs. Page The Author's Life, . . v Dedication, > . . xv Preface, . • . xvi Meditations amonpr the Tombs, 1 Reflections on a Flower- Garden, 2.5 A Descant upon Creation, . 54 Contemplations on the Night, . 65 Contemplations on the Starry Heavens 96 A Winter-Piece, . . 128 Theron and Aspasio, or, a Series of Dia- logues and Letters upon the most im- portant and interesting Subjects, 137 Aspasio Vindicated, . . 469 Improvement of the Doctrine of Justifi- cation, . . . 565 A Defence of Theron and Aspasio, 5!'9 Amendments of Theron and Aspasio, G16 Marshall on Sanctilieation Recommend- ed, . . . 619 sermons on several important subjects. Seum. I. & II. Many made righteous by the obedience of one, 625, 627 III. The ministry of reconciliation, 631 IV. The cross of Christ the Chris- tian's glory, V. The time of danger, VI. The means of safety, VII. The way of holiness, Mr. Romaine's Sermon on Mr. vey's death, Her- 637 645 655 664 672 i TRACTS ON SEVERAL INTERESTING | SUBJECTS. ' Remarks on Lord Bolinghroke's Let- ters on the Study and Use of His- j tory, . . . .687 Considerations on the prevailing custom of visiting on Sundays, . 704 A Treatise on the Religious Education of Daughters, . . 706 Preface to Buriiham's Pious Memor- ials, . . . . 711 Letter on Trail's Works, . 713 Promises to be pasted on Bibles, .714 Letter to Richard Nash, Esq. . 715 Rules and Orders of the Assembly for Christian Improvement, 717 Rules and Orders of a Religious Socie- ty at Truro in Cornwall,- . 719 Hints for promoting Religion, . 723 Mr. Hervey's Preface to Jenks's Medi- dations, . . . 724 A COLLECTION OF RELIGIOUS LETTERS. The Preface, containing some further anecdotes of the Author, . 729 Let. 1. On human frailty, and the ex- cellency of virtue, . 733 2. On ihe advantage of afflic- tions, . . 734 3. On the last day, pride, and improvement of the com- munion, . . 735 4. Reflections on the assizes, 736 5. On Spiritual instruction from natural things, • 736 6. Advice to one looking out for a trade, . . 7.'i9 7. The character and duty of a gospel minister, . 74 1 On attending public worship, and the uncertainty of life, 744 On the intercession of Christ, 74.5 On the wonders of creation, 745 11. Advice to new married per- sons, . . 746 12. On going to a meeting of the clergy, . . 747 13. On the prospect of plenty, and distance from relations, 747 11. On preaching the fulness of Christ. . . 7-W 8. 9. 10. CONTEiNTS. Page LsT. 15. On the vanity of life, . Ti'J 16. Thoughts on different sub- jects, . . 749 17. On the nature and danger of worldly prosperity, ^ . 750 18. On a plentiful harvest, . 757 19. On the fulness and suitableness of Christ, . . 758 20. Christ the believer's refuge, 759 21. On publishing his Medita- tions, . . 760 22. The advantage of religious conversation, . . 761 23. Thoughts on some of the Thirty-nine Articles, 761 24. On the personality and divini- ty of the Holy Ghost 766 25. Thoughts on some books 770 26. Proofs of the divinity of Christ, . . 770 27. On the Holy Spirit's being the object of divine worship, 773 28. On the imputation of Adam's first sin, . . 774 29. Remarks on a passage of Scripture, . . 174 30. Plan of his contemplations on the night; of the study of the Holy Scriptures, 786 31. Of promoting the spiritual improvement of infirmary patients, . . 788 32. On the same subject, . 789 33. On the death of friends, and a firm faith, . . 789 34. His dislike of controversy, 791 35. On publishing his Medita- tions, . , .792 36. On the plan of a Christian Society, . , 792 37. On levity in conversation, and attendance on public wor- ship, , . . 792 38. On his Meditations, . 793 39. On a poem, entitled. The Deity, . . , 794 40. The Christian's duty and triumph, . . 794 41. Of the Holy Scriptures, 795 42. An instance of Christian deli- cacy, . . 796 43. Sympathy with distress, 796 44. A narrative of conjugal afflic- tion, . . 796 45. The Bible to be chiefly stu- died, . . .797 46. Of sanctified afflictions, 797 47. On the benefit of afflictions, 797 48. Condolence on death, . 799 49. Of the Puritan doctrine, 800 .W. Of friendship, . , 800 '>l. An hospitable turn, . 800 ^2. The evil of adulation, . 801 P(tg9 Lkt. 53. Christ's presence at the mar- riage of Cana vindicated, 801 54. Of acceptance with God, 805 55. Of assurance and Charity, 805 56. On the excellency of the Scriptures, . 806 57. On the Sunday Thoughts, 809 58. Encouragement to one in affliction, . . 809 59. The duty and encouragement of a gospel minister, . 810 60. On hospitality, , . 811 61. On various subjects, . 812 62. Of Zimmermannus, . 813 63. His method of catechizing, 814) 64. Comfort under spiritual dis- tress, . . 814 65. Application of salvation the work of the Divine Spirit, 815 66. On diligence in the ministry, 815 67. The laudable strife of a Chris- tian, . . 816 68. The Christian spirit a char- itable one, . . 816 69. Christian conversation, &c. 817 70. Of the mystic writers, &c. 817 71. Of self-elevation and assur- ance . . 818 72. The comforts of Christianity a powerful motive to holi- ness, . . 818 73. Faith in a suffering Saviour the foundation of a believ- er's comfort, . 819 74. A faithful minister to be en- couraged, 819 75. On Christian patience, 820 76. On presenting his Medita- tions, , . 820 77. On miscellaneous subjects, 820 78. On the improvement of time, 821 79. A caveat against desponden- cy, , . 821 80. On cleaving to Christ, . 822 81. A caveat against the fear of death, . . 823 82. Comfort against the fear of judgment, . . 824 83. The necessity of preaching Christ, . . 825 84. On supply to a poor Chris- tian, . . . 826 85. On persuasion of the divine mercy, , . 826 86. The excellency of humility, 827 87. On spiritual sloth, . 827 88. On ministerial disesteem and success, , . 827 89. Comfort against reproach, 828 90. On various subjects, . 828 91. The evil of unbelief, . 828 92. The felicity of communion with Christ, . . 829 CONTENTS. Page Lex. 93. On miscellaneous subjects, 8^9 94. The promise of God the Christian's shield, . 830 95. Deliverance from trouble matter of praise, . 830 96. Of Christ a vicarious sacrifice, &c. . . . 831 97. On boldness in Christ's cause, 831 98. On Christian conduct, , 832 99. On what is called honour, 832 100. On his father's distress, 832 101. Christian humility exempli- fied, . . 833 102. Christ the foundation of the Christian's joy, . 833 103. Reconciliation to God pre- vious to our performing holy duties, . 834 104. Of a companion for the sa- crament, '. • 836 10.5. Of Taylor on Original Sin, 837 106. On the success of books, 838 107. On Marshall on Sanctifica- tion, . . 839 108. Onmindingreligion in health, 840 109. Sympathy in affliction, 840 110. On obligations to a friend, 841 111. Self-examination recommend- ed, . . . 841 112. Additions proposed to the Remarks on Lord Boliiig- broke, . 812 113. A plan of Theron and Aspa- sio, . . 846 114. A criticism on Heb. vi. 2. 847 115. On various subjects, . 848 116. The difficulty of commenting on Scripture, . 849 117. On esteeming the Bible, 850 118. On different subjects, . 851 119. On ancient History, . 851 120. Charity to be prudently given, . . 852 121. Of scriptural criticism, 852 122. Of publishing Theron and Aspasio, . . 853 123. On miscellaneous subjects, 853 124. On the same subject, 854 125. On his Theron and Aspasio,854 126. On a chronological manu- script, . . 855 127. On Hodge's Elihu, . 855 1 28. On Fowler's Design of Chris- tianity, . 855 129. On his Theron and Aspasio, 856 130. On different books, . 856 181. On his epistolary insolvency,857 132. Mr. Walker's character, and of the rules of his religious society, . . 857 133. How writings are successful, 858 134. Remarks on some books, 858 135. On the same subject, . 859 Lbt. 13G. 137. 138. 139. IJO. 141. 142. 143. 144. 145. 146. 147. 148. 149. 150. 151. 152. 153. 154. 155. 156. 157. 158. 159. 160. 161. 162. 163. 164. 165. 166. 167. 168. 169. 170. P'ge The author's wishes for him- self, . . . 859 Scriptural criticisms, . 839 A specimen of Houbigant's criticisms, . . 860 On the same subject, . 861 On his Theron and Aspasio, 863 Comfort and advice to two malefactors, . 863 Plan of a supplement to Theron and Aspasio, 865 Advice to a physician, 866 On the state of the saints after death, . 867 On various subjects, . 863 Of Saurin's sermons, . 869 Burnham's behaviour at his death censured. The con- version of a libertine, 869 The value of life, . 871 Of Marshall's book. Scrip- ture criticisms, . 872 On different subjects, 873 On Christ's ability and wil- lingness to save, . 873 How to manage controversy, 874 A caution against the fear of man, . 875 Why many learned men treat religion with indiffer- ence, . . . 876 On Bogatzky's Golden Trea- sury, . .877 On not remedying some grievances : and instances of plain dealing about reli- gious concerns, . 878 On neglecting to preach Christ, . . 879 Some remarks on not preach- ing Christ, . . 880 Plan of a supplement to Theron and Aspasio, 883 On different subjects, 884 On assurance of salvation, 885 A doctrinal tenet censured. A character of some books, . . 885 Character of some writings, 886 On various subjects, . 887 On the same subject, . S'-^s On courage for the cause of Christ The benefit of aflBiction exemplified, 888 A sense of the love of Christ a strong consolation against the fear of death, . 889 Unbelief the reigning sin of the nation, . 890 Scriptural difficulties, 890 Character of Grey's last words of David, . . 891 CONTENTS. 'Page Lkt. 171. A character of some scriptur- al poems, . 891 172. Marshall defended, • 892 173. Of improving time, . 892 174. A proof of a future state of happiness. Luther's hymn, . . 892 175. On miscellaneous subjects, 894 176. On the Earnest Invitation. A solemn prayer suited to it, . . . 894 177. Comfort under afflictions. A character and extract of the Battle of the Sexes, 898 178. Of being courageous for Christ, . . 898 179. On different subjects, . 899 180. The hope of glory a strong incitement to duty, 900 181. On different subjects, . 900 182. A caution against despair, 901 183. Gospel doctrine tends not to licentiousness. Character of one not fit for being a companion, . 902 184. On giving a rose to a lady, 905 185. On different subjects, 905 186. On the same subject, . 906 187. Advice to physicians, 907 188. On different subjects, 908 189. Scripture criticisms, . 908 190. Thoughts on the Letters on Theron and Aspasio, 909 191. A Scripture criticism, 909 192. On different subjects, . 910 Tage 193. On profaning the Lord's day, reproof, different opinions, &c. . . 910 194. On resignation, and an in- tended visit, . 911 195. On different subjects, 911 196. On Mr. Wesley's unfair dealing, . . 912 197. On Mr. Wesley's letter, 912 198. On the comforts that attend religion, . . 913 199. On Mr. Wesley's letter, 913 200. The excellency of the know- ledge of Christ, . 9l4 201. On a week's preparation for the sacrament, . 914 202. On his answer to Mr. Wes- ley, • . 915 203. On the Letters on Theron and Aspasio, . 915 204. On Witherspoon's Essay, 916 205. Scripture criticisms, . 916 206. On Fletcher's Purple Is- land, . . 917 207. On Alsop's Anti-Sozzo, 919 208. Caution against judging of men s states, . 920 209. Gospel doctrines known by their fruits, . . 921 Jacobi Hervey de libro Jobi epis- tola ad Carolum Thayer, 92.5 A translation of this letter, 925 On the death of the Reverend ]Mr. James Hervey, . 958 Character of Mr. Hervey's Writ- ings, - > . . 928 THE REV. JAMES HERVEY. A REGARD to eminent writings, which dis- play geiiius, learning, orthodoxy, and piety, naturally excites a desire to be acquainted with the writer ; and this desire is the stronger, when these writings are not only tnily excellent in themselves, but are uni- versally admired, eagerly read by good peo- ple of all denominations, and calculated to promote the best interests of mankind. Hence one desires to know the author in private life, how he spent his time, how he sustained his character as a public teacher of religion, what influence the doctrines of grace, which he so warmly inculcated on others, had on his own heart and conver- sation ; and finally, how he closed the last scene. Abundant satisfaction as to all these particulars will be obtained from the fol- lowing account. Mr. James Hervey was bom on Fri- day the 26th of Febi-uaiy 1713-14, at Hard- ingstone, a country village, one mile from Northampton, his father being then minister of the parish of Collingtree, within two miles of Hardingstone- His first instruc- tion was from his mother, who taught him bis letters, and to read. Under her tuition he continued till he was seven years of age, when he was sent as a day-scholar to the free grammar-school at Northampton, of which the Rev. Mr. Clarke, vicar of St. Sepulchre's in the said town, was at that time master. At this school he remained till he was seventeen years old, and learned the Latin and Greek languages ; in which his genius and memory would have enabled him to have made a much earlier progress, if it had not been prevented by his schoolmaster, who would not suffer him, or any other of his scholars, to learn faster than his own son. Whilst Mr. Hervey was at school, though he showed a remarkable dexterity at the innocent games usual among children, yet he had a perfect indifference for the acqui- sitions he made by his skill in these games, which he practised only for exercise and uniuscment. In the year 1731, at the age of seven- teen, he was sent by his father to the uni- versity of Oxford, and entered of Lincoln college there, under the tuition of the Rev. Mr. Hutchuis, now Doctor, and rector of tliat college. He resided in the university seven years, and took the degree of Bache- lor of Arts. The first two or three years were spent by him with some degree of in- dolence, or rather less application to his studies than he afterwards used. But in 1733, about his nineteenth year, becoming acquainted with some persons who began to distinguish ther^seives by their serious impressions of religion, and their zeal for the promotion of it, he was engaged by their influence in a stricter attachment both to piety and learning. He made himself mas- ter of Dr. James Keill's Anatomy, Dr. Durham's Physico- theology and Astro- theology, the Spectacle de la Nature (Nature Displayed) as translated by Mr. Humph- reys ; which last work he read with a pe- culiar satisfaction. Nor was he less de- lighted by the Essay on Pope's Odyssey, written by the Rev. Mr. Spence, now pre- bendary of Dmham ; to which elegant and judicious discourse Mr. Hervey often ac- knowledged, that he owed more of his im- l)rovement in style and composition, than to any other which he had ever read. In 1734, at the persuasion of a much valued fiiend, he began to learn the He- brew language without any teacher, by the Westminster Grammar itself: but soon found that Grammar too concise and diffi- cult for the instruction of a learner ; and therefore then despaired of ever attaining a competent knowledge of the Hebrew, though he afterwards made himself so thorough a master of that sacred language. It appears, from his letters to his sister in 1733 and 1734, that though he then showed a pious and serious turn, yet these letters either speak a language different from free grace, for which we find he was afterwai'ds so powerful an advocate, or at least, they U-eat very confusedly of it. The truth is. ) LIFE OF THE REV. JAMES HERVEV. ke was tben a stranger to, and had strong preposessions against, the doctrine of justi- fication by faith in imputed lighteousness ; and he acknowledges, in a note on his Des- cant upon Creation, that Mr. Jenks's excel- lent treatise, entitled. Submission to the Righteousness of God, was the instrument of removdng his prejudices, and reducing him to a better judgment. He entered into holy orders as soon as his age and the canons of the church would allow ; and though the precise time of his taking orders cannot be ascertained, yet it appears to have been in the end of the year 17^6, or beginning of 1737; at least, it appears from one of his letters, that he had a curacy in the beginning of the latter year. Whilst he was at Oxford he had a small exhibition of about L.20 a-year ; and, when he was ordained, his father pressed him very much to take some curacy in or near Ox- ford, and to hold his exhibition ; but this he would by no means comply with, thinking it an injustice to detain it after he was in orders, {'rom another person who might more want the benefit of that provision. On his leaving Oxford in 1736, he went to his fa- ther, and became his curate. He afterwards went to London ; and, after staying some time there, became curate at Dummer. Here he continued about twelve months ; and upon his leaving that curacy, in the year 17.38, he was invited and went to Stoke- Abbey, in Devonshire, the seat of his wor- thy friend, the late Paul Orchard, Esq. Here he lived upwards of two years, in g:eat esteem and lYiendshij) with that worthy gen- tleman, who valued him very much for his piety. A remarkable proof of the great regard he had for him on that account, he showed on the following occasion : — When his eldest son, the present Paul Orchard, Esq. to whom the second volume of the Meditations is dedicated, was to be baptized, he insisted that Mr. Hervey should be one of his godfathers, that he might have an eye to his Christian education ; and this he did in preference to many gentlemen of large estates in the neighbourhood, who would have thought themselves honoured to have stood sponsors for Mr. Orchard's son. In the year 1740 he undertook the curacy of Biddeford, fourteen miles from Stoke- Abbey, where he lived greatly beloved by his people. His congi'egation was large, though his stipend was small ; his friends, therefore, made a collection yearly for him, which raised his income to L.GO a-yeai-, so highly did they esteem him. At Biddeford he was curate about two years and a half; and remained so until there was a new rec- tor of that church, who dismissed Mr. Her- vey from his curacy, against the united re- quents of his parishioners, who olfered to maintain him at their own e.xpense. Dur- ing the time that Mr. Hervey lived in the west, viz. from 1738 till the latter end of 1 743, his family heard very little of him, by reason of the great distance he was from them ; though he laboured diligently in the service of his Master. Here it was that he planned his Meditations, and probably wrote some part of them. He says, in his first volume of Meditations, Uiat it was on a ride to Kilkhampton, in Cornwall, that he went into the chiu-ch, where he lays the scene of his Meditations among the Tombs. In August 1743, or thereabouts, he re- turned from Biddeford to Weston- Fa veil, leaving behind him many disconsolate friends, and oihciated as curate to his fa- ther. Here he paid the greatest attention to his duty, and faithfully preached the gos- pel of Christ. The fij'st of his writings which raised the attention of the public, was his Medita- tions among the Tombs, Reflections on a Flower-garden, and a Descant upon Crea- tion, published in February 1745-6. Of this kind of writing, we had before an ex- ample from no less a man than the great philosopher Mr. Boyle, in his Occasional Reflections on several subjects, written in his younger yeai"s. Mr. Hervey's performance was so well received by the public, that it has already passed through about twenty editions in London, besides many surreptitious ones in Scotland and Ireland. A second volume, containing Contemplations on the Night and Starry Heavens, and a Winter- Piece, was published in December 1747. In June 1750, his health being much impaired by his great attention to duty, and his family and friends judging that tht change of air might be of benefit to him, they formed a design, which they executed, of conveying him to London, under a pre- tence of his riding a few miles in a friend's post-chaise, who was going thither ; and of which he pleasantly complains in a letter, dated June 28, 1750, to a friend, upon his ajiival there. He staid in London until April or May 1 752 ; during which time he was visited with a severe sickness, which had well nigh put a period to his life. But he recovered; and, upon his father's death in 1 752, he re turned to Weston, where he constantly re sided till his death. ]VIr. Hervey took his degree of Master oi Arts at Cambridge in 1752, when he en- tered at Clai'ehall ; and as he was of suffi- cient standing at Oxford, he staid only tht. few days required by the statutes to perform the university exercise. It may be thought strange, that he who had refused to hold his exhibition at Ox- ford along M'ith a curacy, should, upon his father's death, accept of the two livings of LIFE OF THE REV. JAMES HERVEY. Weston- Favell and CoUingtree, and hold them during his life. It was very far from being his choice, and it was what he had for a long time refused to do. He was de- termined against being a pluralist ; and not- withstanding his father kept him at Oxford, with a design that he should take his degree of Master of Arts, and constantly urged him to do it, yet he could not be persuaded to yield to such a request, though he was of a sufficient standing to have taken the same, looking upon that step as a qualification in- tended for his future holding both his fa- ther's livings. When his father died, he remained determined to have Weston- Favell only ; and this he frequently declared to his family and friends, and refused to accept of CoUingtree, or to qualify himself for the same ; insomuch that it was in danger of lapsing to the bishop. But at length, through the earnest and constant entreaties of his family, and of his friends, who, un- known to him, had sent to and procured from Oxford the necessary certificates of his being a Bachelor of Arts, in order to his taking his Master's degree at Cambridge, he was, after much importunity, prevailed on to comply \vith their requests, hoping that he might be thereby enabled to do so much the more good : and, when he waited upon Dr. Thomas, the then bishop of Peterborough, for institution to CoUingtree, which was near six months after he had been inducted to Weston-Favell, he said to him, " I sup- pose your Lordship will be surprised to see James Hervey come to desire your Lord- ship to permit him to be a pluralist ; but I assure you, I do it to satisfy the repeated solicitations of my mother and my sister, and not to please myself." In November 1752 he published his Re- marks on Lord Bolingbroke's Letters on the Study and Use of History, so far as they relate to the History of the Old Tes- tament, and especially to the case of Noah denouncing a curse upon Canaan ; in a Let- ter to a Lady of Quality. The year following, ha\'ing been called upon to preach, on the 10th of May, the sermon at the visitation of the Rev. Dr. John Browne, archdeacon of Northampton, at All-Saints' chmxh in that town, he per- mitted it, the same year, for the benefit of a poor diseased child, to be printed, under the title of The Cross of Chiist, the Christ- ian's Glory. He had preached before this another sennon at the same church, which he had been solicited to print, but could not then be prevailed upon to do it. Since his death, it has been published under the title of the Mystery of Reconcihation, &c. The same year he wrote a recommenda- tory preface to Burnham's Pious Memorial, or the Power of Religion on the Mind in Sickness and in Death ; exemplified liy the experience of many eminent persons at those important seasons. His Theron and Aspasio, published in January 1755, in three volumes octavo, met with the same approbation from the public as his Meditations ; and the demand for this work likewise was veiy uncommon, it having passed through three editions in one year. In 1756, Mr. Hervey being informed of the design of reprinting the Gospel Mystery of Sanctification, by the Rev. Mr. AValter Marshall, and of prefixing to it, by way of recommendation, what he had said in its favour in Theron and Aspasio, he wrote a letter, dated Nov. 5, 1756, to his bookseller, giving his consent, and enlarging on that recommendation. This he did the more readily, as Mr. Marshall's book might (for so he has declared) be looked upon as no improper supplement to the diijogues and letters contained in Theron and Aspasio. His Theron and Aspasio was attacked by several writers, particularly by Mr. Ro- bert Sandeman, a congregational preacher at Edinburgh, in a book entitled Letters on Theron and Aspasio ; wherein the doctrine of the gospel, under the title of the popular doctrine, is most abominably misrepresent- ed, and its tendency aspersed. The Armi. niaiis, too, objected to that work ; and Mr. .John Wesley in particular \\T0te against it. Mr. Cudworth v/rote a defence of Theron and Asjiasio; and IMr. David Wilson, mi- nister of the Scots congregation in Bow Lane, London, published a book, entitled Palaemon's Creed Reviewed, &c., in which he vindicates Mr. Hervey's doctrine, and exposes that of Mr. Sandeman. Mr. Hervey's own defence of Theron and Aspasio against the objections of Mr. John Wesley, was transcribed fair for the pre>s from his short -hand copy, within a few pages ; and would have been published in a volume of the same size with Theicn and , Aspasio, had he lived a few weeks longer. The manuscript was left in the possession of his brother, Mr. William Hervey, wine merchant in Miles' Lane, London ; who published it in 1766, for the reasons given by him in a preface prefixed to it. In August 1757, Mr. Hervey oblig;ed the public with three sermons, preached by him on the late public fast-days ; to which, in the third edition, in 1759, were added his visitation sermon, preached in 1753, his posthumous sermon on the ministry of re- conciliation, and his considerations on the prevailing custom of visiting on Sundays. In a posterior edition of these, were given his remarks on Lord Bolingbroke's letters, and a treatise on the religious education of daughters. In the same year, likewise, he published LIFE OF THE REV. JAMES HERVEY, a new edition of his favourite author, Mr. Jeiiks's Meditations, in two volumes octavo ; to which he wrote a very strong recommen- datory preface, showing the use of those meditations, and the reasons for such re- publication.* He intended to have wrote a treatise on gospel holiness, as a supplement to Theron and Aspasio, and actually wrote a very ex- cellent and judicious plan of it, which he communicated in letters to some of his cor- respondents ; but he did not live to finish it, to the very great loss of the public. His labours both in his ministerial office aud in his study, were pursued by him as long as possible, under the disadvantage of a very weak constitution of body ; which, together with the severity of his last illness, he supported not only with incredible pa- tience, but without a single expression of peevishness. That illness had long been coming on him, but greatly increased in the beginning of October 1758, and grew very formidable in the December following. For, on Sabbath the third of that month, in the evening, after prayer in his family, he seemed to be arrested by the messenger of death ; so that the united assistance of liis sister and sei"vant with difficulty enabled him to get up stairs into his room, from whence he never came down. His illness gaining ground every day, he soon became sensible that his end was approaching. He had frequent and violent retiu'ns of the cramp, which gave him most acute pain. He had likewise a hectic cough, which afflicted him so grievously in the night, that he could seldom lie in bed till four-)- in the morning ; and was often obliged to rise at two, espe- cially as opium (how much soever guarded by other medicines) would not agree with him. On the 13th of that month he com- plained of a pain in his side ; for which, at his own desire, he was bled, though his physician. Dr. Stonehouse, in whom he I)laced the greatest confidence, had objected to it, apprehending him too weak to bear any evacuation of that kind. When the surgeon came, he could scarcely perceive any pulsation, and therefore took away no more than four ounces of blood ; intimating to his rehitions and friends, that the case was desjjerate, and that he had blooded him very unwillingly, and merely to satisfy Mr. Hervey's desire, who had some hope that tlie pain might possibly be relieved by it. His curate, the Rev. Mr, Abraham Mad- dock, being much with him in the afternoon of that day, Mr. Hervey sjioke to him in « This Preface, with that to Bumham's Pious Me- morials, his letter to tlie publisher of Marshall on Saiictification, one to the iniblisher of Mr. Traill's works, &c. are annexed to his tracts in thi.-; sdition. |- When Mr. Hervey was in tolerable health, he r-nrely lay in bed after six, even in the winter; aud rii:if slill earlier in th* summer. strong and pathetic terms of his assurance of faith, and of the great love of God in Christ. " Oh !" said he, "what has Christ, how much has Christ done for me ; and how little have I done for so loving a Sa- viour ! If I preached even once a-week, it was at last a burden to me. I have not visited the people of my parish as I ought to have done, and thus preached, as it were, from house to house. I have not taken every opportunity of speaking for Christ." These expressions being accompanied with tears, which were too visible not to be observed ; and lest his tears should be mis- interpreted, as they had been conversing about his expected end, and of his assurance of happiness, he proceeded thus : " Do not think that I am afraid to die. I assure you I am not. I know what my Saviour hath done for me, and I wish to be gone. But I wonder and lament to think of the love of Christ in doing so much for me ; and how little I have done for him." And in an- other conversation, discoursing likewise of his approaching dissolution, which he did with the utmost calmness and serenity ; and of the little which we know of God's word, he said, " How many precious textsare there big with the most rich truths of Christ, which we cannot comprehend, which we know nothing of; and of those we do know, how few do we remember ! Bonus textiia- rius est bonus theohgus — a good texCuaxy is a good divine ; and that is the armour, the word of God is the sword. Those texts are the wesipons which I must use when that subtle spirit, that ai'ch adversaiy of mankind, comes to tempt and sift me in my last con- flict. Surely I had need be well provided with these weapons ; I had need have my quiver full of them, to answer Satan with texts out of the word of God, when he as- saults me. Thus did Christ when he was tempted in the wilderness." On the 19th the pains of his body abated, and he grew diowsy and lethargic ; but, in the night following, his immediate death was apprehended. The next day, the 20th, he was visited by Dr. Stonehouse, who declared, that in his opinion Mr. Hervey could not live above three or four days ; and happening to speak of the many consolations through Christ which a good man enjoys in the prospect of death, and discoursing on the emptiness of worldly honoiu" to an immortal, and on the unprofitableness of riches to the irreli- gious, Mr. Hervey replied, " True, doctor, true, the ordy valuable treasures are in hea- ven. What would it avail me now to be archbishop of Canterbury ? Disease would show no respect to my mitre. That prelate ' * The late Dr. Thomson Seeker, who died .4ii-ust .1, i7C'i. LIFE OF THE REV. JAMES HERVEY. is not only very great, but, I am told, he has religion really at heart. Yet, it is godliness, and not grandeur, that will avail him hereafter. The gospel is offered to me, a poor country parson, the same as to his Grace. Christ makes no difference betweeen us. Oh ! why then do ministers thus neglect the charge of so kind a Saviour, fawn upon the great, and hunt after worldly preferments with so much eagerness, to the disgrace of our order? These, these are the things, doctor, and not our poverty or obscurity, which render the clergy so justly contemptible to the worldlings. No wonder the service of our church, grieved I am to say it, is become such a formal lifeless thing, since it is, alas! too generally executed by persons dead to godliness in all their conversation ; whose indifference to reli- gion, and worldly-minded behaviour, pro- claim the little regard they pay to the doc- trines of the Lord who bought them." When the Doctor was going away, Mr. Hervey, with great tenderness, obsei-ved to him, that as not long ago he had a danger- ous fall from his horse, by which he was much bruised, and as he had been lately ill, and then looked very pale, he hoped he would think on these narrow escapes, so often fatal to others, as a kind of warning from God to him, and remember them as such ; adding, " How careful ought we to be to improve those years which remain, at a time of life when but few can remain for us !" The day before his death, Mr. Hervey went a few steps across his room ; but im- mediately finding his strength failing him, he sunk rather then fell down, his fall being broken by his sister, who, observing his weakness, ran and caught him : but he fainted away, and was in all appearance dead, it being a considerable time before any pulse could be perceived. When he came to himself, his brother, Mr. William Her- vey, who was come from London to visit him, said, " We were afraid you was gone." He answered, " I wish I had." And well he might wish so, for his strength was quite exhausted, his body extremely emaciated, and his bones so sore, that he could not bear any one to touch him, when it was necessary to move him about. Yet, under all this calamity, he was ever praising God for his mercies, and for enduing him with patience. On the 25th (Christmas-day,) on which he died, Mr. Maddock paying him his morning visit, Mr. Hervey lifted up his head, and opened his eyes, as he sat in his easy-chair, (for he could not lie in bed,) to see who it was, and said, " Sir, I cannot talk with j'ou." He complained much all this day of a great inward conflict which he haJ, laying his hand upon his breast, and Siiying, " Oh ! you know not how great a conflict I have." During this he almost constantly lifted up his eyes towards heaven, with his hands clasped together in a praying form, and said, two or three times, " When this great conflict is over, then — " but said no more ; though it was understood he meant that then — he should go to rest. Dr. Stonehouse came to him about three hours before he expired. Mr. Hervey urged strongly and affectionately to the Doctor the importance and care of his everlasting concerns, as here is no abiding place ; and entreated him not to be overcharged with the cares of this life, but to attend, amidst the multiplicity of his business, to " the one thing needful:" Which done, the poorest can no wants endure. And which not done, the richest must be poor.* Pope. The Doctor seeing the great diflBculty and pain with which he spoke, (for he was almost suffocated with phlegm and frequent vomitings,) and finding by his pulse that the pangs of death were then coming on, desired that he would spare himself. " No," said he, " Doctor, no. You tell me I have but a few moments to live ; oh ! let me spend them in adoring our great Redeemer." He then repeated the 26th verse of Psalm Ixxiii. " Though my flesh and my heart fail me, yet God is the strength of my heart, and my portion for ever ;" and he expatiated in a most striking manner on these words of Paul, 1 Cor. iii. 22, 23, " All things are yours ; life and death, for ye are Christ's." " Here," says ye, "is the treasure of a Chris- tian. Death is reckoned among this inven- tory ; and a noble treasure it is. How thankful am I for death, as it is the passage through which I pass to the Lord and Giver of eternal life ; and as it frees me from all the misery you now see me endure as long as God thinks fit ! for 1 know he will by and by, in his own good time, dismiss me from the body. These light afflictions are but for a moment, and then comes an eternal weight of glory! — Oh! welcome, welcome death! Thou mayest well be reckoned among the treasures of the Christian. To live is Christ, but to die is gain." After which, as the Doctor was taking his final leave of him, Mr. Her\-ey expressed great gratitude for his visits, though it had been long out of the power of medicines to cure him. He then paused a little, and with great serenity and sweetness in his countenance, though the pangs of death were upon him, being raised a little in his chair, repeated those words, " Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, according to thy" most holy and comfortable " word, for mine eyes have * Mr. Hervey used frequently to repeat those lines with such an emphasis, and significant look, as con- veyed their important meaning in a manner not easily to be forgot. LIFE OF THE KEV. JAMES HERVEY. seen tLy precious salvation." " Here, Doc- tor, is my cordial ! What are all the cor- dials given to support the dying, in compa- rison of that which arises from the promises of salvation by Christ ? This, this supports me." About three o'clock he said, " The great conflict is over. Now all is done." After which he scarce spoke any other words intelligibly, except now and then •'precious salvation!" During the last hour he said nothing, but leaned his head against the side of an easy chair, and without a sigh, groan, struggle, or the least emotion in the world, he shut his eyes, and died, between four and five in the afternoon, on Chrismas day, 1758, in the forty-fifth year of his age. God grant that we may all live the life, and die the death of the righteous, and that our last end may be like his ! When his body was conveyed to church, it was covered, by his express desire, with the poor's pall, and he was buried under the middle of the communion-table, in the chan- cel of Weston-Favell church, on Friday, Dec. 28, in the presence of a numerous congregation, full of regret for the loss of so excellent a pastor. His funeral was in- deed a most awful and very affecting sight. Mr. Maddock, his curate, who buried him, was himself in tears. Some were wringing their hands, others sobbing, many were si- lently weeping, but all were inwardly and sincerely grieved, as their looks sufficiently testified ; and his attendants then bore a vi- sible witness, that he had not been altogether unserviceable in his generation. The poor thankfully acknowledged it ; and, as they looked into his grave, seemed to say within themselves, " There lies the man whose unwearied kindness was the constant relief of my various distresses ; who tenderly vi- sited my languishing bed, and readily sup- plied my indigent circumstances." Others, once ignorant and ungodly, looked at his grave, and seemed by their expressive sighs to say, " Here are the last remains of that sincere friend who watched for my soul. I tremble to think into what irretrievable ruin I might quickly have been plunged, had not liis faithful admonitions and repeated ex- hortations, arrested me in the wild career. I was then unacquainted with the gospel of ])eace ; but now, enlightened by his instruc- tions, 1 see the all-sufficiency of my Saviour. His discourses are still warm on my heart, and I trust will be more and more operative on my life. It may be truly said of Mr. Hervey, that fow lives have ever been more heavenly, and few deaths more triunij)haiit. He died in the Lord, and is now at rest, where even the wicked cease from troubling. His n!:me is recorded in the aniuils of eternity ; ■uiMl the honours conferred on him by Christ will for ever continue blooming and incor« ruptible in the world of glory. His character, both in his public and private capacity, was of the most exemplary kind. As a minister, he performed all the duties of that office with the greatest strictness. In the pulpit he was earnest and fervent, and showed that he felt the efficacy of what he preached. Nor did he think it sufficient to preach on the Lord's day only, but set up a weekly lecture every Wednesday evening, at Weston-Favell church, which was very well attended. His zeal for the performance of his duty was, however, for some time before he died, much interrupted by the ill state of his health, which would not permit him personally to take due care even of the parish of Weston, where he resided — a cir- cumstance that gave him inexpressible con- cern. The last two or three years of his life he could scarce do any thing more than preach once on the Lord's day, when people for many miles around flocked to hear him. His Wednesday evening lecture at seven, he discontinued for the last year. He had not been able to preach for some time at Collingtree,* or to visit his parishioners at their own houses, as his custom had been ; but he encouraged them to come to him, and to converse freely on the subjects re- lating to their eternal interests ; and on such occasions he would speak with a force and propriety peculiar to himself. He would frequently lament his inability to serve his people, comparing himself to a bleeding disabled soldier, and only not slain. He always preached without notes, ex- cept on some very particular occasion ; but his method was judicious, clear, and not en- cumbered with too many subdivisions. His M^eakness having rendered him, for several months before his death, incapable of speak- ing to his congregation as usual, he short- ened his discourses, and took a most useful method of inculcating his instructions ; for, after he had expounded his text, and divided his sermon into two heads, (rarely into more, and never exceeding three,) he would speak briefly, and, at the conclusion of each head, enforce M'hat he had said by a pertinent text of Scripture, desiring his congregation (which was generally very numerous) to turn to their Bibles, and double down that text. " Now," added he, " my dear brethren, if you forget my sermon, you carmot forget God's word in this text, unless you wilfully throw your Bibles aside. Show these to your children, or the absent part of your fa- mily, when you retuni home." Then he * Weston-Favell and Cnllingtree, the twofnnily livincs, are within five menstired mil^sofeach other ; wliicli Mr. Hervey and his curate used to attend al- I'-rnntely, till his ill licalth confined him enliiely to We.-.l()nKavcll LIFE OF THE REV- JAMES HERVEY. gave a striking exhortation, and at the end of it another text for them to double down ; so that they had always three texts ; in order to their finding of which, he paused in the pulpit two or three minutes. This method was attended with another good effect ; it obliged the generality of his hearers to bring their Bibles along with them; for those who were without a Bible lost the benefit of the texts, and were unemployed, while the ma- jority who had one were very busy in look- ing for the passages referred to in his ser- mon. He endeavoured as much as possible to divest himself, in his public discourses, of his usual elegancy of style, and to adapt his language to the lowest capacity. In this he followed the example of Luther, who, in his Table-talk, says, " If in my preaching I were to pay a regard to Philip Jlelancthon, and other learned divines, then I should do little good. I preach in the plainest man- ner to the illiterate, and that gives content to all. Hebrew, Greek, and Latin, I spare till we learned ones come together." Mr. Hervey thought perspicuous language and evangelical doctrine of much more import- ance to his parishioners, than elaborate or ornamented discourses ; though few men living, perhaps, were more capable of satis- fying a polite or learned audience. His method of catechising children in church, and of speaking to them in private, was very engaging and useful. He would put little questions to them, after they had repeated the words of the catechism ; as for instance, " Well, my little maid, let me hear if you understand what you said. If you do understand the meaning of these words, you will then be able^to answer the questions 1 shall put to you." He would at these times ask not only such questions as were suitable to the words of the catechism, but also such as would strike at the capital vices of his parishioners, yet without giving personal of- fence. He did not forget that he was a minister in his house ; for he worshipped God with his family twice a-day. He supped at eight every night, and at nine he expounded a text of Scripture for about a quarter of an hour, and seldom longer, except when some friend was present, to whom he thought his dis- course might be useful, or when particularly requested to enlarge. After this he con- cluded with prayer. He breakfasted at nine ; and about eight ne called his family together, and required each of his servants to repeat by heart the text which he had explained the preceding evening, and then he would recapitulate his exposition ; by which method both his text and commentary were imprinted on their memories. After this he had prayers. In the afternoon, when he was called down to tea, he used to bring his Hebrew Bible or Greek Testament with him, and would speak (as he was ever studious how he might promote the glory of God and im- prove time) either upon one or more verses, as occasion offered, in the most instructive and entertaining manner imaginable. And in the summer season he would now and then drink tea, when his health would per- mit him, with some of his most serious pa- rishioners ; and then five or six of the neigh- bours were invited, and Mr. Hervey's con- versation was remarkably affecting, as he had a happy talent at spiritualizing almost every incident, and was naturally of a most obliging and cheerful disposition. He was a member of an assembly formed for Christian improvement, which was es- tablished in his neighbourhood on the 7th of July 1747, and constantly attended it so long as he was able to ride to the place of meeting. A short account of the rules of this assembly is given at the end of his Tracts, together with two prayers composed by him for the use of the members thereof. In the exercise of his charity, Mr. Her- vey chose to clothe the poor, rather than give them money ; and he would get some judicious person to buy linen, coarse cloth, stockings, shoes, &c. for them at the best hand ; alleging, that the poor could not pur- chase on such good terms what they want- ed, at the little shops, and with small sums of money. " I am," said he, " God's stew- ard for the poor, and I must husband the little pittance I have to bestow upon them, and make it go as far as possible." But when money would be really serviceable to a family, as to a prudent housekeeper dis- tressed by sickness or misfortunes, he would give five or more guineas at a time, taking care that it should not be known whence the money came. Pope's compliment to Mr. Allen of Bath might be justly applied to him, who would Do good by stealth, and blush to find it fame. He was particularly desirous of getting the advice of apliysician (or at least of some judicious apotliecary) for the sick poor ; and was very ready to procure them the best medicines — a most beneficial sort of charity to mankind, and in which it were to be wished he had many imitators. He would frequently petition such physicians of his acquaintance in different parts of the king- dom, as he apprehended thus charitably dis- posed, to give their advice occasionally, when they rode through a town, to such poor creatures as the clergyman of the place, or some substantial inhabitant, should re- commend as real objects of compassion. Mr. Hervey would then, with great plea- sure, and with as much gratitude to the phy- sician as if done to himself, defray the ex- pense of what medicines wtre wanted. He LIFE OF THE REV. JAMES HERVEY. greatly disapproved indeed of" the clergy's attempting to give medicines to their pa- rishioners ; as he judiciously inferred, that it was impossible for them to do it with the requisite judgment. " Let my brethren," he would say, " give them wine, bread, or beer, and get good spoon-meats made for them ; but medicines are of too important a nature to be given indiscriminately." He observed, that by his o\vn method the sick poor had the very best medicines, as the physician saw them himself, and bought them very cheap, because the apothecary, knowing they were for charitable uses, charged the physician for them no more than prime cost, with some little allowance merely for his trouble in compounding them ; and as the physician knew what dis- eases were curable, there was no waste of medicines in fruitless attempts to cure cases which, though actually incurable, persons of less judgment could not pronounce to be so. He gave away a great number of good books, with suitable instructions for their use, and especially Bibles. In the blank leaf he frequently wrote something capable of making an impression, or else stuck in a printed paper relating to the promises of God in and through Jesus Christ, or to creation, preservation, and redemption.* All the future profits of his work's he has left to some of the charitable uses above specified, except his Meditations ; the copy of which he had sold, after it had passed through several editions : which sale of the copy, and the profits of the former impres- sions, amounted to about L.700, all of which he gave away in charity. He said, that it was devoted to God, and that be would on no account apply it to worldly uses ; that he wrote not for profit or fame, but to serve the cause of God ; and as Providence had blessed his attempt, he thought himself bound to relieve the distresses of his fellow- creatures with it. In any expenses relating to himself he was extremely frugal, that he might be libe- ral to others ; and it was always his desire to die just even with the world. " I will be my own executor," said he ; and, as he died on Christmas-day, his fund expired almost with his life. What little remained, he desired might be given in warm clothing to the poor in that severe season. To these instances of his charity, we may properly add an incident, which, how trifling soever in itself, yet affords a very strong proof, not only of the benevolence of his heart, but of his regard to practical religion, and to the doing of every good work within his power. A day or two before his death, when he ' Sec a copy of this jirinted paper among his Tracts. was reduced to such extreme weakness as to be unable to read, and could with diffi- culty speak, a little account being settled with him by a friend, on the balance of which he received 18s. looking on the money with great indifference, he expressed him- self to this effect : " I woidd gladly dispose of this small sum in such manner as may do most good. It is the only act which I now am, and probably the last that I shall be, able to perform. Give yourself the trouble of looking amongst these books, and you will find Mr. Richards' pamphlet ; at the latter end of which are, I remember, some Hints concerning the means of pro- moting religion in ourselves or others, which (even with some additions and improve- ments which you might easily make) will not fill more than a sheet of paper,* and, if stuck up or framed, might be particulai-ly useful in that form. Let, then, such a number of them be printed and given away as this money will admit of." His orders were properly executed ; and the evidences of such an angelic temper were equally matter of edification and comfort to his friend, as this charitable legacy, if we may so call it, will be to all who receive and rightly use it. This incident affords a striking evidence of the happy fruits and effects of his favour- ite doctrine, and strong expressions of the all-sufficient righteousness of Christ as the sole requisite to justification before God and acceptance with him, and shows that indeed his faith wrought by love. No man had ever a greater disregard for money, which he esteemed unworthy of his notice on any other account than as it furnished him with the means of doing good. Surely we may here borrow the sentiment and expression of the celebrated Mr. Pope, and justly conclude, that He felt his ruling passion strong in death. Mr. Hervey was indeed too negligent of his dress, which, though it could not in the least lessen the respect paid to him in his own parish and neighbourhood, where he was so well known, yet he would unques- tionably have avoided it if he had lived in a public scene, where the decency and pro- priety of appearance are of much greater importance. In learning he was inferior to few. Greek was almost as familiar to him as his native language. He was a great master of the classics ; and, in the younger part of his life, had written some copies of verses, which showed no contemptible genius for poetry. He had a critical knowledge of the Hebrew tongue, and delighted in it. With respect to his private capacity, he was never known to be in a passion. He • The Hints, &c. are subjoined to the Tracts. LIFE OF THE REV. JAMES HERVEY. lived as in heaven. No worldly concern (though he sometimes met with very trying ones) ever aflfected him. His humility rendered him invulnerable. When he was misrepresented and calumniated, he would say, •' Oui- enemies are sometimes our best friends, and tell us truths ; and then we should amend our faults, and be thanktul for such inform:ition ; and if what they say be not true, and only spoken through ma- lice, then such persons are to be considered i as diseased in their minds, and we should j pray for them. They are to be pitied," says he, " and I might be as justly angry with a man who is diseased in his body." ^11 this he spoke with humility, serious- ness, and sweetness ; for it was the lan- guage of his heart, and not of affectation. Li his ordinary transactions with others, he was ever cheerful, punctual, just, and can- did to persons of every denomination. He frequently wrote religious letters to his acquaintances, according to their diffe- rent circumstances, in the most amiable and convincing manner ; and he seemed to make it almost an invariable nile, not to write a letter on any occasion, without at least one pious sentence* in it ; and that not introduced in a forced and awkward manner, but interwoven so as to appear naturally to ai-ise from the subject. Of this kind some specimens may be seen in the note at the bottom of the page.f Notwithstanduig Mr. Hervey lived a very holy and exemplary life, preaching Jesus Christ and him crucified, and incul- cating the practice of real religion and holi- ness in heart and life, yet his enemies (for strange as it is, even Mr. Hervey himself, the most inoffensive of men, had enemies) have not scrupled to assert, that " his tenets were dishonourable to God, subversive of all gospel-holiness, destructive even of com- mon morality, and very injurious to society itself, by making men melancholy, and re- gardless of business." These were the very words of an abusive and anonjTnous letter sent to him by the post ; on which * Kulla dies sine linea, nulla epistola sine Christo, were Mr. Hervey's maxims. + These specimens are taken from hasty message- cards, or billets, to some of his intimate friends. " When I see my dear friend, we wiU talk about the contents of his last. My money is Christ's, and I only desire that he will give me benevolence to dis- ?ose of it willingly, discretion to bestow itprudently. hope you have quite recovered, and adopted the Psalmist's resolution, Psalm cxvi. 8, 9. What do you think is the meaning of that remarkable expre»- sion, " I will walk before the Lord ? " In another billet to a person about retiring from business, he writes, — " Thanks for your Witsius de CEconomia FceJerum. The time, I nope, is coming, when you will have leisure to read, a heart to relish, and a tongue to display such precious doctrines." In another he writes, — " Let us all remember, my dear friend, that time is upon the wing: eternity is at our door; therefore what we do for our blessed Master we must do quickly." that meek and most excellent man observed to an intimate friend, with all his usual mildness, " Indeed this gentleman may be said, I think, to write at random. Surely he has never read my work. If I knew where to direct to him, I should desire him to turn to what I have advanced in the ninth paragraph of my Contemplation on the Starry Heavens ; and such a reply, I would hope, might convince him of his mistake." Some of Mr. Hervey's friends thought he carried the Calvinistical tenets so far, that consequences disadvantageous to reli- gion might be deduced from them, and which he himself, instead of assenting to them, would have startled at and rejected with abhorrence. The fact is, the doctrine he delivered in his writings is purely scriptunJ. and agreeable to that contained in all the confessions of the reformed churches ; and is so far from having a tendency to weaken the obligations to purity and holiness of life, that it promotes them in the most effectual manner, and has the most happy influence on morality. When persons of judgment have pointed out to him some expressions that were liable to be misunder- stood in that respect, he always disavowed any such meaning ; and affirmed, that the fault was not in the evangelical doctrines so much insisted on by him, but in the misap- prehension, ignorance, or inattention, of those who abused them to licentiousness. He would then add, he was ready to alter or retract any sentiment or expression which he apprehended to be really objectionable ; but that to make things equally clear to every one's apprehension, or to have the same effect upon every one's mind, was an impracticable attempt ; that he professed himself a Calvinist, and that, consequently, the Arminians would not relish some things he advanced, though what he wrote was exactly conformable to the church articles, which are Calvinistical ; yet he hoped they would not reject the whole, because they could not, in every point, concur with him ; and that his writings in general might be useful, how much soever some of his par- ticular (though truly scriptural) opinions might be doubted or censured. And on this head let us hear Mr. Hervey himself. He, in a letter written by him a very little before his happy death, thus expresses himself: " Do they who deny faith, and extol their good works, distinguish themselves by the practice of them ? I will be bold to say, that, on an impartial examination, the ma- jority will be found on the side of those who embrace the doctrine of the imputa- tion of Christ's righteousness, and who ex- pect salvation by him alone." Of the compliments publicly paid to his piety and genius, it will be snJMcient to in- LIFE OF THE REV. JAMES HERVEY, Bert a paragraph from the Northampton Mercury, which may be seen at the bottom of the page;* and the following eulogium extracted from the Rev. Mr. Dodd's poem on the Epiphany. Thou HERVEt, too, Whose page and soul alike breathe humblest love To thy adored Redeemer, thou hast shown That piety and polish'd elegance May well together suit; and while remains Or piety or elegance, thy works, Like genuine gold, the touchstone will abide. And grateful to thy countrymen remain : Oh ! may I to my lowly strains derive Some merit from the friendship of thy name ; Strains, whose exalted subject fills thy heart So constant with delight ; and from thy tongue In converse pours such streams of eloquence. That the wrapt hearer wonders at his fears Of death ere-while, and glowing with the love Of Jesus, caught from thee, longs to behold His Saviour in the clouds: for who can stand Amidst the sweetness of Arabian groves. .^^x. Christmas-day, in the afternoon, died, in the 45th year of his age, the Rev. Mr. James Hervey, rector of Weston-Fayell, near Northampton, and au- thor of the Meditations among the Tonife, Flower Garaen, &c. He was one of the most eminent in- stanceB of the power of Christianity upon the human mind. In his ministerial province he was pious, fer- 11?,,'%^'^ indefatigable. In his ordinary connexions with the community he was ever cheerful, conscien- tiously punctual in all his dealings, and amiably can- did to persons of every denomination. To his chari- ties he set no bounds, scarcely leaving himself the mere requisites of his station. Under the severest trials of infirmity, for several years he displaved the highest example of fortitude, serenity, patience, and an entire resignation to the divine will. His writings most abundantly evidence his learning and ingenuity ■ But, reader. It IS not the acquisitions of his under- stiindmg, but the improvements of his heart, and his confidence in the great Redeemer, which will now avail this most excellent mjiu. And not bear thence jome fragrance ?— Valued friend. Proceed; and (thy too feeble strength renew'd) May to hoar age thy journey be prolong'd, And strew'd each step with blessings to mankind ! We shall close this account of Mr. Her- vey's life with the following elegy on him. Urania, speak ! in pensive numbers tell How Zion trembled when great Hervey fell ! When fail'd his strength, and when his pulse beat low. Tell how she moum'd to see the impending blow ! O thou, to whom all sacred themes belong. Pour forth the sweetly melancholy song ! ■' Alas! grim death hath shot the fatal dart, Which long seem'd pointed at his languid heart ; The insatiate tyrant, crown'd with funeral gloom. In triumph drags him to the hollow tomb ! Who now so well can paint the blooming flower. Or preach from sepulchres at midnight hour ? Who now so well the starry heavens scan, And read the lectures nature meant for man ? No more his voice a careless world can move. Or tell the wonders of redeeming love ; No more shall thousands round his pulpit throng. To hear the heavenly precepts of his tongue ; For lo ! above this gross impurer air. Released from everv pain and every care. He soars aloft (angelic hosts his guide) On wings new plumed, which ne''er before he tried. With rapid speed his golden ninions rise Through starry planes, and skim the empyrean skies. And now, where sparkling portals wide display The blissful regions of eternal day. His Lord receives him 'midst celestial choirs. Who crovm his head, and strike their golden Ivre^ • Through heaven's glad courts the greeting arithemg And joys new blooming feast his ravish'd soul; Joys which to tell all eloquence is faint. And which the loftiest muse can never paint." * The reader may be assured, that these verses were wrote by a very serious and well-disposed voune man, apprentice to a Jersey comber, in the town of Northampton, in a low station of life, and of no li- beral education ; whosemind, by Mr. Hervey's preach- ing and writings, had been very early impressed with the sacred ardour of piety and poetry. TO MISS R. Madam, These Reflections, the one on the deep- est, the other on the gayest, scenes of Na- ture, when they proceeded privately from the pen, were addressed to a Lady of the most valuable endowments, who crowned all her other endearing qualities by a feiTent love of Christ, and an exemplary conformity to his divine pattern. She, alas ! lives no longer on earth, unless it be in the honours of a distinguished character, and in the bleeding remembrance of her acquaint- ance. It is impossible, Madam, to wish you a richer blessing, or a more substantial happi- ness, than that the same spirit of unfeigned faith, the same course of undefiled religion, which have enabled her to triumph over death, may both animate and adorn your life. And you will permit me to declare, that my chief inducement in requesting your acceptance of the follomng Meditations, now they make a public appearance from the press, is, that they are designed to cul- tivate the same sacred principle, and to pro- mote the same excellent practice. Long, Madam, may you bloom in all the vivacity and amiableness of youth, like the charming subject of one of these Contem- plations. But, at the same time, remember, that with regard to such inferior accom- plishments, you must one day fade (may it prove some very remote period !) like the mournful objects of the other. This con- sideration will prompt you to go on as you have begun, in adding the meekness of wis- dom, and all the beauties of holiness, to the graces of an engaging person, and the re- finements of a polite education. And might — O ! might the ensuinghints furnish you with the least assistance in pro- secuting so desirable an end ; might they contribute in any degree to establish your faith, or elevate your devotion ; they would then administer to the author such a satis- faction as applause cannot give, nor censure take away — a satisfaction which I should be able to enjoy, even in those awful mo- ments when all that captivates the eye is sinking in darkness, and every glory of this lower world disappearing for ever. These wishes. Madam, as they are a most agreeable employ of my thought, so they come attended with this additional circumstance of pleasiu-e, that they are also the siricerest expressions of that very great esteem with which I am. Madam, Your most obedient most humble servant, JAMES HERVEY. Weston-Favell, near Northampton, May H), 17-16. PREFACE. The first of these occasional Meditations begs leave to remind my readers of their latter end ; and would invite them to set, not their houses only, but, which is inex- pressibly more needful, their souls in order ; that they may be able, through all the in- termediate stages, to look forward upon their approaching exit without any anxious apprehensions ; and when the great change commences, may bid adieu to terrestrial things, with all the calmness of a cheerful resignation, with all the comforts of a well- grounded faith. The other attempts to sketch out some little traces of the all-suificiency of our Redeemer for the gi'and and gracious pur- poses of everlasting salvation ; that a sense of his unutterable dignity and infinite per- fections may incite us to regard him with sentiments of the most profound veneration, to long for an assured interest in his merits with all the ardency of desire, and to trust in his povi'erful mediation with an affiance not to be shaken by any temptations, not to be shared with any performances of our own, I flatter myself, that the thoughts con- ceived among the tombs may be welcome to the serious and humane mind ; because, as there are few who have not consigned the remains of some dear relations, or ho- noured friends, to those silent repositories, so there are none but must be sensible, that this is the house appointed for all living, and that they themselves are shortly to remove into the same solemn mansions. -And who would not turn aside for awhile from the most favourite amusements, to view the jilace where his once loved com- panions lie ? who would not sometimes survey those apartments, where he himself is to take up an abode till time shall be no more? As to the other little essay, may I not humbly presume, that the very subject it- self will recommend the remarks? For who is not debghted ^^•ith the prospect of the blooming creation, and even charmed with the delicate attraction of flowers ? Who does not covet to assemble them in the garden, or wear them in a nosegay? Since this is a passion so universal, who would not be willing to render it produc- tive of the sublimest improvement ? This piece of holy fnigality I have veJitiired to suggest, and endeavoured to exemplify, in the second lecter ; that while the hand is cropping the transient beauties of a flower, the attentive mind may be enriching itself with solid and lasting good. And I cannot but entertiiin some pleasing hopes, that the nicest taste may receive and relish rebgious impressions when they are conveyed by such lovely monitors ; when the instructivt lessons are found, not on the leaves of some formidable folio, but stand legible on the fine sarcenet of a narcissus ; when they savour not of the lamp and recluse, but come breathing from the fragrant bosom of a jonquil. MEDITATIONS AMONG THE TOMBS, IN LETTER TO A LADY. Madam, " Travelling lately into Cornwall, I hap- pened to alight at a considerable village in that county ; where, finding myself under an unexpected necessity of staying a little, I took a walk to the church.* The doors, like the heaven to which they lead, were wide open, and readily admitted an unwor- thy stranger. Pleased with the opportunity, I resolved to spend a few minutes imder the sacred roof. In a situation so retired and awful, I could not avoid falling into a train of medi- tations, serious and mournfully pleasing ; which, I trust, were in some degree profita- ble to me, while they possessed and warmed my thoughts ; and if they may administer smy satisfaction to you. Madam, now they are recollected, and committed to writing, I shall receive a fresh pleasure from them. It was an ancient pile : reared by hands, that ages ago were mouldered into dust Situate in the centre of a large burial-ground, remote from all the noise and hurry of tu- multuous life The body spacious, the structure lofty ; the whole magnificently plain. A row of regular pillars extended them- * I had named, in some former editions, a particu- lar church, viz. Kilkhampton ; where several of the monuments, described in the following pages, really exist. But, as I thought it convenient to mention some cases here, which are not, according to the best of my remembrance, referred to in any inscriptions there: I have nowomitted the name, that imagination might operate more freely, and the improvement of the reader be consulted, without any thing that should look like a variation from truth a^dfact. selves through the midst, and supported the roof mth simplicity and with dignity — The light that passed through the windows, seemed to shed a kind of luminous obsciui- ty ; which gave every object a grave and venerable air. — The deep silence added to the gloomy aspect, and both heightened by the loneliness of the place, greatly increased the solemnity of the scene A sort of re- ligious dread stole insensibly on my mind, while I advanced all pensive and thoughtfid, along the inmost aisle. Such a dread as hushed every ruder passion, and dissipated all the gay images of an alluring world. Having adored that eternal Majesty, who, far from being confined to temples made with hands, has heaven for his throne, and the earth for his footstool ; — I took particu- lar iMJtice of a handsome altar-piece, present- ed, as I was afterwards informed, by the master-biulders of Stow ;* out of gratitude, I presume, to that gracious God, who carri- ed them thi'ough their work, and enabled them to " bring forth their top-stone with joy." O ! how amiable is gratitude i especially when it has the supreme Benefactor for its object. I have always looked upon grati- tude, as the most exalted principle that can * The name of a noble seat belonging to the late Earl of Bath, remarkable formerly for its excellent workmanship and elegant furniture ; once the princi- pal resort of the quality and genuy of the west ; but now demolished, laid even with the ground, and scarce one stone left upon another. — So that com may £row, or nettles spring where Stow lately stood. MEDITATIONS AMONG THE TOMBS. actuate the heart of man. It has something noble, disinterested, and (if I may be allow- ed the term) generously devout. Repen- tance indicates our nature fallen, and prayer turns chiefly tipon a regard to one's self. But the exercises of gratitude subsisted in paradise, when there was no fault to deplore ; and will be perpetuated in heaven, when " God shall be all in all." The language of this sweet temper is, " I am imspeakably obliged ; what return shall I make ?" — And siu-ely, it is no improper expression of an imfeigned thankfulness to decorate our Creator's comts, and beautify "the place where his honour dwelleth." Of old, the habitation of his feet was glorious ; let it not now be sordid or contemptible. It must grieve an ingenious mind, and be a re- proach to any people, to have their own houses wainscotted with cedar, and painted with Vermillion, while the temple of the Lord of hosts is destitute of every decent ornament. Here I recollected and was charmed with Solomon's fine address to the Almighty, at the dedication of his famous temple. With immense charge, and exquisite skill, he had erected the most rich and finished structure that the sun ever saw. Yet upon a review of his work, and a reflection on the trans- cendent perfections of the Godhead, how he exalts the one, and abases the other ! The building was too glorious for the mightiest monarch to inhabit ; too sacred for unhal- lowed feet even to enter, yet infinitely too mean for the Deity to reside in. It was, and the royal worshipper acknowledged it to be, a most marvellous vouchsafement in im- created excellency, to " put his name there." The whole passage breathes such a delica- cy, and is animated with such a sublimity of sentiment, that I cannot persuade myself to pass on without repeating it. * But will God • 1 Kings viii. 27- But will — A fine abrupt begin- ning, most significantly describing the amazement and rapture of the royal prophet's mind ! — God : he uses no epithets where writers of inferior discernment would have been fond to multiply them ; but speaks of the Deity as an incomprehensilile Being, whose per- fections, and glories are exalted above all praise — Dwell: To bestow on sinful creatures a propitious look, to favour them with a transient visit of kindness, even this were an unutterable obligation : Will he then vouchsafe to fix his abode among them, and take up liis stated residence with them ? — Indeed ; A word in this connexion, peculiarly emphatical ; expressive of a condescension wonderful and extraordinary, almost beyond all credibility. — Behold : intimating the con- tinued or rather the increasing surprise of the speak- er, and awakening the attention of the hearer. — Be- hold ! the heaven. The spacious concave of the fir- mament, that wide extended azure circumference, in which worlds unnumbered perform their revolutions, is too scanty an apartment for the Godhead — Nay the heaven of lieavens; those vastly higher tracks which lie far bevond the limits of human survey, to which our very' thoughts can hardly soar; even these (un- bounded as they are) cannot afford an adequate habi- tation for Jehovah ; even these dwindle into a point when compared with the infinitude of his essence ! even these " are as nothing before him." — How much less proportionate is this poor diminutive speech, which 1 have been erecting and embellishing, to «o august a Presence, so immense a Majesty. indeed dwell on earth ? Behold ! the heaven and heaven of heavens cannot contain thee ; how much less this house that I have build- ed ? — Incomparable saying, worthy the wisest of men. Who would not choose to possess such an elevated devotion, rather than to own all the glittering materials of that sumptuous edifice ? We are apt to be struck with admiration at the stateliness and grandeur of a master- ly performance in architecture, and perhaps, on a sight of the ancient sanctuary, should have made the superficial observation of the disciples, " What manner of stones, and what buildings are here !" — But what a nobler tiUTi of thought, and juster taste of things does it discover, to join with Israel's king, in celebrating the condescension of the divine Inhabitant ! That the high and lofty One, who fills immensity with his glory, shoidd, in a peculiar manner, fix his abode there I should there manifest an extraordinaiy de- gree of his benedictive presence ; permit sin- ful mortals to approach his majesty, and pro- mise " to make them joyful in his bouse of prayer !'' — This shoidd more sensibly affect our hearts, than the most curious arrange- ment of stones can delight our eyes. Nay the everlasting God does not disdain to dwell in our souls by his holy Spirit, and to make even our bodies his temple Tell me, ye that frame critical judgments, and ba- lance nicely the distinction of things : " is this most astonishing or most rejoicing ?" — He humbleth himself, the scripture assiu-es us, even to behold the things that are in heaven.* It is a most condescending fa- V01U-, if HE pleases to take the least approv- ing notice of angels and archangels, when they bow down in homage from their celes- tial thrones ; will he then graciously regard, will he be united, most intimately united, to poor, polluted, breathing dust? — O ! unpar- alleled honour ! Invaluable privilege ! Be this my portion, and I shall not covet cro\;ms, nor envy conquerors. But let me remember what a sanctity of disposition, and uprightness of conversation, so exalted a relation demands ; Remember this, " and rejoice with trembling." — Durst I commit any iniquity, while I tread these hallowed courts ? Coidd the Jewish High- Priest allow himself in any known trans- gression, while he made that solemn yearly entrance into the holy of holies ;f and stood before the immediate presence of Jehovah ? No, tnily. In such circumstances, a think- ing person must shudder at the most remote solicitation to any ^^^lfld oflfence. I should now be shocked at the least indecency of be- haviour, and am apprehensive of every ap- pearance of evil. And why do we not car- ry this holy jealousy into all our ordinary • Psalmcxiii.G. t Heb. ix. 7 MEDITATIONS AMONG THE TOMBS. 3 life ? "WTiy do we not in every place rever- oiicc ourselves ;* as persons dedicated to the Divinity, as livinc: temples of the Godhead ? For, if we are real, and not merely nominal Christians, the God of glory, according to his own promise, dwells in lis, and walks in usf — O ! that this one doctrine of our reli- gion might operate, with an abiding efficacy, upon our consciences ; it woiUd be instead of a thousand laws to regulate our conduct ; instead of a thousand motives to quicken us in his holiness. Under the influence of such a conviction, we should study to maintain a purity of intention ; a dignity of action ; and to walk worthy of that transcendently ma- jestic Being, who admits us to a fellowship with himself, and with his Son Jesus Christ. The next thing which engaged my atten- tion, was the lettered floor -. the pavement somewhat like Ezekiel's roll, was written over from one end to the other. I soon per- ceived the comparison to hold good in ano- ther respect ; and the inscriptions to be mat- ter of " mourning, lamentation, and woe."| They seemed to coiurt my obsers^ation ; si- lently inviting me to read them And what would these dumb monitors inform me of? — " That beneath their little circumferences were deposited such and such pieces of clay, which once lived, and moved, and talked ; that they had received a charge to preserve their names, and were the remaining trustees of their memory." Ah ! said I, is such my situation ? The adorable Creator around me, and the bones of my fellow creatures under me ! Surely, then, I have great reason to cry out, wth the revering patriarch, How dreadfid is this place ! II Seriousness and devotion become this house for ever : May I never enter it lightly or irreverently ; but with a profound awe, and godly fear ! Oh ! that they were wise : § said the in- spired penman. It was his last wish for his dear people ; he breathed it out, and gave up the ghost — But what is wisdom ? It con- sists not in refined speculations, accurate re- searches into natuj'e, or an universal acquaint- ance with history. The divine lawgiver set- tles this important point in his next aspira- tion : Oh ! that they understood this ! That they had right apprehensions of their spiritual interests, and eternal concerns ! that they had eyes to discern, and inclinations to pursue * PANTAN DE MALIS AISCHUTREO SE AUTON, was the favourite maxim of Pythagoras, and supposed to be one of the best moral precepts ever given to the Heathen v?orId. With what superior force, and very singular advantage, does the argument take place in the Christian Scheme ! wliere we are taught to regard ourselves, not merely as intellectual beings, that have reason for our monitor, but as con- secrated creatures, who have a God of the most con- lummate perfection ever with us, ever in us. t 2 Chron. vi. 16. t Ezek. ii. lf>. 1 Gen. xxviii. 17. § Deut. xxxii. 29. the things which belong to their peace ! — ■ But how shall they attain this valuable know- ledge ? I send them not, adds the illustrious teacher, to turn over all the volumes of liter- ature : they may acquire, and much more expeditiously, this scene of life, by consider- ing their latter end. This spark of heaven is often lost under the glitter of pompous erudition, but shines clearly in the gloomy mansions of the tomb. Drownied in this gen- tle whisper amidst the noise of mortal affairs, but speaks distinctly in the retirements of serious contemplation — Behold ! how provi- dentially I am brought to the school of wis- dom !•* The grave is the most faithfid mas- ter ;f and these instances of mortality, the most instructive lessons Come then calm attention, and compose my thoughts : come, thou celestial Spirit, and enlighten my mind ; that I may so peruse these awful pages, as to "become wise unto salvation." Examining the records of mortality, I found the memorials of a promiscuous mul- titude. :f They were huddled, at least they rested together, without any regard to rank or seniority. None were ambitious of the uppermost rooms, or chief seats in this house of mourning. None entertained fond and eager expectations of being honotu-ably greet- ed in their darksome cells. Tlie man of years and experience, reputed as an oracle in his generation, was content to lie dowTi at the feet of a babe. In this house appointed for all living, the servant was equally accom- modated, and lodged in the same story with his master. The poor indigent lay as soft- ly, and slept as soundly, as the most opulent possessor. All the distinction that subsist- ed, was a grassy hillock, bouiid with osiers ; or a sepulchral stone ornamented with im- agery. Wliy then, said my working thoughts. Oh ! why should we raise such a mighty stir about superiority and precedence, when the next remove will reduce us all to a state of equal meanness ? Why should we exalt ourselves, or debase others ; since we must all one day be upon a common level, and blended together in the same undistinguished dust ? Oh ! that this consideration might humble my own and other's pride ; and sink our imaginations as low as our habitation will shortly be ! Among these confused relics of humanity, there are without doubt, persons of contrary interests, and contradicting sentiments : But • The man how wise, who sick of gaudy scenes. Is led by choice to take his fav'rite walk Beneath death's gloomy, silent, cypress shades, Unpierc'd by vanity's fantastic ray ! To read his monuments, to weigh his dust. Visit his vaults, and dwell among the tombs ! NigM Thoughts. t Wait the great teacher, death. Pope. t Mistasenumacjuvenum deasantur funera. Hor. MEDITATIONS AMONG THE TOMBS. death, like some able days-man, has laid liis hands on the contending parties, and brought all their differences to an amicable conclu- sion. * Here enemies, sworn enemies, dwell together in unity. They drop every embit- tered thought, and forget that they once were foes. Perhaps their crumbling bones mix as they moulder ; and those who, while they lived, stood aloof in irreconcilable variance, here fall into mutual embraces, and even in- corporate with each other in the grave Oh ! that we might learn from these friend- ly ashes, not to perpetuate the memory of injuries ; not to foment the fever of resent- ment ; nor cherish the tiubulence of pas- sion ; that there may be as little animosity and disagreement in the land of the living as there is in the congregation of the dead ! — But I suspend for a while such general obsen'ations, and address myself to a more particidar inquiry. Yonder white stone, emblem of the inno- cence it covers, informs the beholder of one, who breathed out its tender soid almost in the instant of receiving it. There the peace- fiU infant, without so much as knovdng what labour and vexation mean,f " lies still and is quiet ; it sleeps, and is at rest." Staj-ing only to wash away its native impiurity in the laver of regeneration, it bid a speedy adieu to time and terrestrial things — 'WTiat did the little hasty sojourner find, so forbidding and disgustfid in oiu- upper world, to occasion its precipitant exit? It is written, indeed, of its suffering Saviour, that when he had tasted the vinegar mingled with gall, he would not drink : \ And did our new come stranger be- gin to sip the cup of life ; but perceiving the bitterness, turn away its head, and refuse the draught ? Was this the cause why the wary babe only opened its eyes ; just looked on the light ; and then withdrew into the more inviting regions of undisturbed repose ? '' Happy voyager ; no sooner laimched, than arrived at the haven. § — But more eminently happy they, who have passed the waves and weathered all the storms of a troublesome and dangerous world ; who, " through many tribidations have entered into the kingdom of heaven ;" and thereby brought honour to their divine Convoy, administered comfort to the companions of their toil, and left an instructive example to succeeding pilgrims. Highly favoured probationer ! accepted without being exercised ! It was thy pecu- liar privilege not to feel the slightest of those • Hi motus animorum, atque hsec certamina tanta, Pulveris exigui jactu compressa quiescent. Virg. t Job. in. 13. t Matt, xxvii. 34. S Happy the babe, who privileg'd by fate To shorter labour and a lighter weight, Keceiv'd but yesterday the gift of breath ; Order'd to-morrow to return to death. Pnor'a .S'cl. evils which oppress thy surviving kindred : which frequently fetch groans from the most manly fortitude, or most elevated faith ; the arrows of calamity, barbed with anguish, are often fixed deep in our choicest comforts. The fiery darts of temptation, shot from the hand of hell, are always dying in showers around our integrity. To thee, sweet babe, both these distresses and dangers were alike unknown. Consider this, ye mourning parents, and dry up your tears. Why should you lament that yom- little ones are crowned with vic- tory, before the sword was di'awn, or the con- flict begim ? — Perhaps the supreme disposer of events foresaw some inevitable snare of temptation forming, or some dreadful storm of adversity impending. And why shoidd you be so dissatisfied with that kind pre- caution, which housed your pleasant plant, and removed into shelter a tender flower, be- fore the thunders roared ; before the light- nings flew ; before the tempest poured its rage ? — O remember, they are not lost, but taken away from the evil to come.* At the same time let siu:\dvors, doomed to bear the heat and burden of the day, for theu' encouragement, reflect — that it is more honourable to have entered the lists, and to have fought the good fight before they come off conquerors. They who have borne the cross, and submitted to afflictive provi- dences, with a cheerful resignation, have girded up the loins of their mind, and per formed their Master's wUl, vnth an honest and persevering fidelity ; — these, having glo • rified their Redeemer on earth, will proba- bly be as stars of the first magnitude in heaven. They will shine with brighter beams, be replenished with stronger joys, in their Lord's everlasting kingdom. Here lies the grief of a fond mother, and the blasted expectation of an indidgent fa- ther The youth grew up like a well wa- tered plant : he shot deep, rose high, and bid fair for manhood ; but just as the cedar began to tower, and promised ere long to be the pride of the wood, and prince among the neighbouring trees : — behold the axe is laid unto the root ; the fatal blow struck ; and all its branching lionours tumbled to the dust, — and did he fall alone ? No : the hopes of his father that begat him, and the plea- sing prospects of her that bare him, fell, and were crushed together with him. Doubtless, it would have pierced one's heart to have beheld the tender parents fol- lowing the breathless youth to his long home, perhaps drowned in tears, and all overwhelm- ed with sorrows, they stood like weeping statues, on this very spot, — methinks, I see the deeply distressed mourners attending the • Isa. hii. 1. MEDITATIONS AMONG THE TOMBS. sad solemnity ; how they wring their hands and pour floods from their eyes ! — Is it fan- cy? or do I really hear the passionate mo- ther, in an agony of affliction, taking her fi- nal leave of the darling of her soid ? Dumb she remained, while the awful obsequies were performing ; dumb wirfi grief, and leaning upon the partner of her woes. But now the inward anguish struggles for vent ; it grows too big to be repressed. She ad- vances to the brink of the grave. All her sold is in her eyes. She fastens one look more upon the dear doleful object, before the pit shuts its mouth upon him, and as she looks she cries ; — in broken accents, in- terrupted by many a rising sob, she cries ; — " Farewell, my son ! my son ! my only be- loved ! Would to God I had died for thee ! — Farewell my child! and farewell, all my earthly happiness — I shall never more see good in the land of the living Attempt not to comfort me I will go mourning all my days, tUl my gray hairs come dovm with sorrow to the grave." From this afl!"ecting representation, let parents be convinced how highly it concerns them to cultivate the morals, and secm-e the immortal interests of their children. If you reaUy love the offspring of your own bodies ; if your bowels yearn over those amiable pledges of conjugal endearment ; spare no pains, give all diligence ; I entreat you to " bring them up in the niu:tiu:e and admoni- tion of the Lord." Then may you have joy in their life, or consolation in their death. If their span is prolonged, their unblama- ble and usefid conduct will be the staff of your age, and a balm for declining nature. Or, if the number of their years be cut off in the midst, you may commit their remains to the dust, with much the same comfortable expectations, and with infinitely more exalt- ed views, than you send the siuA'ivors to places of genteel education. You may com- mit them to the dust with cheering hopes of receiving them again to yoiu* arms, inexpres- sibly improved in every noble and endearing accomplishment. It is certainly a severe trial, and much more afflictive than I am able to imagine, to resign a lovely blooming creatm-e, spning from yom- own loins, to the gloomy recesses of corruption. Thus to resign him after ha%'ing been long dandled upon your knees, united to yoiu' affections by a thousand ties of tenderness, and now become both the de- light of your eyes, and the support of yom- family ! — to have such a one torn from your bosom, and thrown into darkness, doubtless it must be like a dagger in your hearts, — But, O ! how much more cutting to you, and confoimding to the child, to have the soul separated from God ; and for shamefid ignorance or early impiety consigned over to places of eternal torment ! How would it aggravate your distress, and add a distracting emphasis to all your sighs, if you should fol- low the pale corpse with these bitter reflec- tions ! — " This dear creature, though Imig ago capable of knowing good from evU, is gone out of the world before it had learned the great design of coming into it. A short- lived, momentary existence it received from me : but no good instructions, no holy ad- monitions, nothing to further its well-being in that everlasting state, upon which it is now entered. The poor body is consigned to the coflin, and carried out to consume away in the cold and silent grave. And what reason have I to suppose that the pre- cious soul is in a better condition ? May I not justly fear, that, sentenced by the righte- ous Judge, it is going, or gone away into the pains of endless punishment ! — Perhaps, while I am bewailing its untimely departure, it may be cursing in utter darkness, that ever to be deplored, that most calamitous day, when it was born of such a careless migodly parent as I have been." Nothing, I think, but the gnawings of that worm which never dies, can equal the anguish of these self-condemning thoughts. The tortures of a rack must be an easy suf- fering compared with the stings and horror of such a remorse How earnestly do I wish that as many as are entrusted with the management of cluldi-en, would take timely care to prevent these intolerable scourges of conscience, by endeavoiuing to conduct their minds into an early knowledge of Christ, and a cordial love of his truth ! On this hand is lodged one whose sepid- clu-al stone tells a most pitiable tale indeed ! Well may the little images, reclined over the sleeping ashes, hang down their heads with that pensive air ! None can consider so mournful a story without feeling some touches of sympathizing concern His age twenty-eight ; his death sudden ; himself cut down in the prime of life, amidst all the vi- vacity and vigour of manhood^ while " his breasts were full of milk, and his bones moistened with marrow." — Probably he en- tertained no apprehensions of the evil hoiu'. And indeed, who could have suspected that so bright a sun should go down at noon ? To human appearance, his hiU stood strong. Length of days seemed written in his san- guine countenance. He solaced himself with the prospect of a long, long series of earthly satisfactions When lo ! an unex- pected stroke descends ! descends from that mighty arm, which " overtumeth the moiui- tains by their roots ; and crushes the ima- ginary hero, before the moth ;"* as quick- * Job iv. 19. Ad instar, ad modum, tiuia? 1 retain this interjiretation, both as it is mostsuit- able to my purpose, and as it is patronized by soitip eminent commentators ; especially the celebrated Schultens. Though I cannot but give the preference MEDITATIONS AMONG THE TOMBS. 6 ly, and more easily, than our fingers press such a feeble fluttering insect to death. Perhaps the nuptial joys were all he thought on. Were not such the breathings of his enamoured soul ? " Yet a very little while, and I shall possess the utmost of my wishes. I shall call my charmer mine ; and in her enjoy whatever my heart can crave." — In the midst of such enchanting views, had some faithfid friend but softly reminded him of an opening grave, and the end of all things ; how unseasonable would he have reckoned the admonition ! Yet, though all warm with life, and rich in visionary bliss, he was even then tottering upon the brink of both." — Dreadful vicissitude ! to have the bridal * festivity turned into the funeral so- lemnity. Deplorable misfortune ! to be ship- wrecked in the very haven ! and to perish even in sight of happiness ! — What a me- morable proof is here of the fraility of man, in his best estate ! Look, O, look on this monument, ye gay and careless ? Attend to this date ; and boast no more of to-mor- row ! Who can tell, but the bride-maids, girded with gladness, had prepared the marriage- bed ! had decked it \A'ith the richest covers, and dressed it in pillows of do\vn ? When, — Oh ! trust not in youth or strength, or in any thing mortal ! for there is notliing cer- tain, nothing to be depended on, beneath the unchangeable God Death, relentless death, is making him another kind of bed in the dust of the earth. Unto this he must be conveyed, not with a splendid procession of joyous attendants : but stretched in the gloomy hearse, and followed by a train of moiUTiers. On this he must take up a lone- ly lodging, nor ever be released, till " the heavens are no more." — In vain does the con- senting fair one put on her ornaments and expect her spouse. Did she not, like Si- sera's mother, look out of the lattice : chide the delay of her beloved ; and wonder " why his chariot was so long in coming ?" Lit- to the opinion of a judicious friend, who would ren- der the passage more literally, " Before the face of a moth," making it to represent a creature so exceed- ingly frail, that even a moth flying against it may dash it to pieces. — Which besides its closer correspon- dence witn the exact import of the Hebrew, presents us with a much finer image of the most extreme imbe- cility. For it certainly implies a far greater degree of weakness, to be crushed by the feeble flutter of the feeblest creature, than only to be as easily crushed as that creature, by the hand of man. — Tire French ver- sion is very expressive and beautiful, a la rencontre d'un vermisseau. * A distress of this kind is painted in very affecting colours, by Pliny, in an epistle to Marcellinus: O triste plane acerbumque funus ? O morte ipsa mortis tempus indignius ! Jam destinata erat egregio juveni, jam electus nuptiarum dies; jam nos advocati. Quod gaudium quo moerore mutatum est ! Non possum fxprimere verbis, quantum animo vulnus accepcrim liu'um audivi Fundanum ipsum (ut multa luctuosa dolor invenit) praecipientem, quod in vestes, mar- gavitas, gemmas, fuerat erogaturus, hoc in thura, et {inj-'uenta, et oUores, impenderetur. rHit. Lib. V. Epist. 26 tie thinking, that the intended bridegroom had for ever done with transitory things : that now everlasting cares employ his mind, without one single remembrance of his lovely Lucinda ! — Go, disappointed virgin ! go, mourn the imcertainty of all created bliss ? Teach thy soul to aspire after a siu-e and immutable felicity ! For the once gay and gallant Fidelio sleeps in other embraces, even in the icy arms of death ! forgetfid, eternally forgetful, of the world — and thee. Hitherto one is tempted to exclaim against the king of terrors, and call him capricious- ly cniel. He seems, by beginning at the wrong end of the register, to have inverted the laws of nature. Passing over the couch of decrepit age, he has nipped infancy in its bud ; blasted youth in its bloom ; and torn up manhood in its full matiuity — Terrible in- deed are these providences, yet not unsearch- able the counsels s For us they sicken, and for us they die.* Such Strokes must not only grieve the rela- tives, but surprise the whole neighbourhood. They sound a powerful alarm to heedless dreaming mortals, and are intended as a re- medy for our carnal seciu-ity. Such pass- ing bells inculcate loudly otu- Lord's admo- nition : " Take ye heed ; watch, and pray ; for ye know not when the time is." — We nod like intoxicated creatm-es, upon the very verge of a tremendous precipice. These astonishing dispensations are the kind mes- sengers of heaven, to rouse us from our supineness, and quicken us into timely cir- cumspection. I need not stirely accommo- date them with language, nor act as their interpreter. Let everj' one's conscience be awake, and this will appear their awful meaning ; — " O ye sons of men, in the midst of life you are in death. No state, no circumstances, can ascertain your preser- vation a single moment. So strong is the tyrant's arm, that nothing can resist its force ; so true his aim, that nothing can elude the blow. Sudden as lightning, some- times is his arrow laimched : and wounds and kills in the twinkling of an eye. Never promise yoiu'self safety in an expedient but constant preparation. The fatal shafts fly so promiscuously, that none can guess the next victim. Therefore, " be ye always ready ; for in such an hour as ye think not, the final summons cometh." Be ye always ready ; for in such an hour as ye think not. Important admonition ! Methinks it reverberates from sepidchre to sepidchre ; and addresses me with line upon line, precept upon precept. The reiterated warning, I acknowledge, is too needful ; may co-operating grace render it eflfectual ! The « Night Thour^hts MEDITATIONS AMONG THE TOMBS. momentous tnith, though worthy to be en- Kiiived on the tables of a most tenacious me- mory, is but slightly sketched on the tran- sient flow of passion. We see our neigh- bom's fall, we turn pale at the shock ; and feel, perhaps, a trembling dread. No soon- er are they removed from our sight, but driven in the wliirl of business, or hdled in the languors of pleasure, we forget the pro- vidence, and neglect its errand. The im- pression made on our unstable minds, is like the trace of an arrow through the penetrat- ed air, or the path of a keel in the fiu-rowed wave. Strange stupidity ! To ciu-e it, ano- ther monitor bespeaks me, from a neighboiu- ing stone. It contains the narrative of an imhappy mortal, snatched from his friends, and hm-ried to the awful bar ; Mathout leisure, either to take a last farewell of the one, or to put up so much as a single prayer prepa- ratory for the other ; killed, according to the usual expression, by a sudden stroke of casu- alty. Was it then a random blow ? Doubtless the stroke came from an aiming, though in- visible hand. God presideth over the ar- mies of heaven ; God ndeth among the in- habitants of the earth ; and God conducteth what men call chance. Nothing, nothing comes to pass through a blind and uiidis- ceming fatality. If accidents happen, they hiippen according to the exact foreknow- ledge, and conformably to the determinate counsels of eternal wsdoni. The Lord, with M'hom are the issues of death, signs the warrant, and gives the high commission. The seemingly fortuitous disaster, is only the agent, or the instrument appointed to ex- ecute the supreme decree. When the im- pious monarch was mortally wounded, it seemed to be a casual shot. A certain man drew a bow at a venture.* — At a venture as he thought. But his hand was strengthen- ed by an omnipotent aid, and the shaft le- velled by an imerring eye. So that what we term casualty, is really pro\"idence, accom- plishing deliberate designs, but concealing its o\\-n interposition — How comforting this reflection ! Admirably adapted to soothe the throbbing anguish of the mourners, and com- pose their spirits into a quiet submission ! Excellently suited to dissipate the fears of godly survivors and create a calm intrepidity even amidst innumerable perils ! How thin is the partition between this world and another ! How short the transi- tion from time to eternity ! The partition nothing more than the breath in our nos- trils ; and the transition may be made in the twinkhng of an eye Poor Chreumylus, I remember, arose from the diversions of a card-table, and dropt into the dwellings of • I Kings xxii. 34. darkness. One night Corinna was all gaie- ty in her spirits, aU finery in her apparel, at a magnificent ball. The next night, she lay pale and stiff, an extended corpse, and I'eady to be mingled with the mouldering dead. Young Atticus lived to see his am- ple and commodious seat completed, but not to spend one joyous hour under the stately roof. The sashes were hung to admit the day ; but the master's eyes were closed in end- less night. The apartments were furnished to afford refreshment or innte repose ; but their lord rests in the more peaceful cham- bers of the tomb. The gardens were plan- ned, and a thousand elegant decorations de- signed ; but, alas ! their intended possessor is gone down to " the place of skulls ;" is gone down to the valley of the shadow of death. Wliile I am recollecting, many, I question not, are experiencing the same tragical vicis- situde. The eyes of that sublime Being — Who sits upon the circle of the earth, and views all its inhabitants \\'ith one compre- hensive glance — even now behold many tents in affliction ; such affliction as ovenvhelm- ed the Eg}'ptians in that fatal night, when the destroying angel sheathed his arrows in all the pride of their strength Some sink- ing to the floor fi-om their easy chair ; and deaf even to the most piercing shrieks of their distracted I'elations Some gi\ing up the ghost, as they sit retired, or lie reclined under the shady arboiu: to taste the sweets of the flower)' scene — Some as they sail, as- sociated with a party of pleasure, along the dancing stream, and through the laughing meads. Nor is the grim intruder mollified though wine and music flow around. Some intercepted as they are retinning home ; and some intemipted, as they enter upon an im- portant negotiation — Some arrested with the gain of injustice hi their hands : and some sui-prised in the -veiy act of lewdness, or the attempt of cruelty. Legions, legions of disasters, such as no prudence can foresee, and no care prevent, lie in wait to accomplish our doom. A starting horse may throw his rider ; may at once dash his body against the stones, and fling his soul into the iuNasible world. A stack of chimneys may tumble into the street, and crush the unwar)' passenger under the ruins : even a single tile, dropping from the roof, may be as fatal as the fall of the whole structure — So frail, so very attenuated is the thi-ead of life, that it not only bursts be- fore the storm, but breaks even at a breeze. The most common occurrences, those from which we suspect not the least harm, may prove the weapons of our destruction. A giape-stone, a despicable fly, may be more mortal than Goliath, M-ith all his formidable armour. Nay, if God give command, oiu: very comforts become killing. The air we MEDITATIONS AMONG THE TOMBS. breathe, is our bane ! and the food we eat, the vehicle of death.— That last enemy has unnumbered avenues for his approach : yea, lies entrenched in our very bosom, and holds his fortress in the seat of our life. The crimson fluid, which distributes health, is impregnated with the seeds of death. * Heat may inflame it, or toil oppress it, and make it destroy the paits it was designed to cher- ish. Some unseen impediment may obstruct its passage, or some unknown violence may divert its course : in either of which case it acts the part of a poisonous di-aught, or a deadly stab. Ah ! in what perils is vain life engag'd ? What slight neglects, what trivial faults destroy The hardiest frame ! of indolence, of toil. We die ; of want, of superfluity. The all surrounding heaven, the vital air. Is big with death . Since then we are so liable to be dispossess- ed of tliis earthly tabernacle, let us look upon oiurselves only as tenants at wiU ; and hold ourselves in perpetual readiness to depart at a moment's warning. Without such an ha- bitual readiness, we are like wretches that sleep on the top of a mast, while a horrid gidf yawns, or furious waves rage below. And where can be the peace, what the satis- faction of such a state ! Whereas, a prepar- ed condition ■wall inspire a cheerfulness of temper, not to be displayed by any alarming accident, and create a firmness of mind, not to be overthro^vn by the most threatening dangers. WTien the city is fortified wath walls, furnished with provision, guarded by able and resolute troops ; what have the in- habitants to fear ? what may they not enjoy? So, just so, or rather by a much surer band, are connected the real taste of life, and the constant thought of death. I said, our very comforts may become killing And see the truth inscribed by the hand, sealed with the signet of fate. The marble, which graces yonder pillar, informs me, that near it are deposited the remains of Sophronia ; the much lamented Sophro- nia, who died in child-bed. — How often does this calamity happen ? The branch shoots, but the stem withers. The babe springs to light ; but she that bare him breathes her last. She gives life, but gives it (O pitiable consideration!) at the ex- pense of her own ; and becomes at once a mother and a corjise Or else, perhaps, she expires in severe pangs, and is herself a tomb for her infant ; while the melancholy complaint of a monarch's woe is the epitaiih for them both ; ' The children are come to * As man, perhaps the moment of his breath, Receives the lurking principles of death. The young disease, that must subdue at length, Grows with his growth, and strengthens with his strength. Pope's Kthica. the birth, and there is not strength to bring forth,'* — Less to be lamented in my opin- ion, this misfortune than the other. Better for the tender stranger, to be stopped in the porch, than to enter only to converse with affliction. Better to find a grave in the womb than to be exposed on a hazarilous world, without the guardian of its infantile years, without the faithfid guide of its youth. This monument is distinguished by its finer materials, and more delicate append- ages. It seems to have taken its model from an affluent hand, directed by a gene- rous heart, which thought it could never do enough for the deceased. It seems, also, to exhibit an emblematical picture of So- j)hronia's person and accomplishments. Is her beauty, or, what is more than beauty, her white robed innocence, represented by the snowy colour? The siurface smoothly polished, like her amiable temper, and en- gaging manners. The whole elegantly adorn- ed, without either extravagant pomp, or sor- did negligence ; like her undissemblcd good- ness, remote from the least ostentation, yet in all points exemplary. But ah ! how vain were all these endearing charms ! How ^■ain the lustre of thy sprightly eye ! How vain the bloom of thy bridal youth ! How vain the honoiu-s of thy superior birth ! How un- able to secure the lovely possessor from the savage violence of death ! How ineffectual the universal esteem of thy acquaintance ; the fondness of thy transported husband ; or even the spotless integrity of thy character, to prolong thy span, or procure thee a short reprieve ! — The conciurence of all these circumstances reminds me of those beauti- ful and tender lines, How lov'd how valu'd once, avails thee not : To whom related, or by whom begot. A heap of dust alone remains of thee : 'Tis all thou art ! — and all the proud sluU be If Pope's Miscell. * Isaiah xxxvii. 3. t These verses are inscribed on a small, but elegant monument lately erected in the great church at Nor- thampton ; which, in the hierogyphical decorations, corresponds with the description introduced above. In this circumstance particularly, that it is dedicated to the memory of an amiable woman, Mrs. AnnkStone- HOUSK, the excellent wife of my worthy friend. Dr. Stonehouse; who has seen ail tlie power of that healing art, to which I, and so many others, have been greatly indebted, failing in their attempts to preserve a life dearer to him than his own. Nee prosunt domino que prosunt omnibus, artes. Ovid. No longer his all-healing art avails ; But every remedy its Master fails. In the midst of his tender distress, he has sought some kind of consolation, even from the sepulchral marble, by tcacliing it to speak, at once his esteem for her me- mory ; and his veneration for that religion, which she so eminently adorned. Nor could this be more signi- ficantly done, than by summing up her character, in that concise, but comprehensive sentence, X simcerb tJiBiSTiAN. Concise enough to be the mouo for a MEDITATIONS AMONG THE TOMBS. Yet though unable to divert the stroke, Christianity is sovereign to pluck out the sting of death. Is not this the sUent language of those lamps which burn ; and of that heart which flames ; of those palms which flourish ; and of that cro\\ai which glitters, in the well imitated and gilded marble ? Do they not, to the discerning eye, describe the vigilance of her faith ; the fervency of her devotion ; her nctory over the world ; and the celestial diadem, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, shall give her at that day.* How happy the husband, in such a sharer of his bed, and partner of his fortunes ! their inclinations were nicely tuned luiisons, and moumins ring ; yet, as comprehensive as the most en- larged sphere of personal, social, and religious worth. " For whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report ;" are they not all included in that grand and noble aggre- gate— A Sincere Christian ! The first lines, considered in such a connexion, are wonderfully plaintive and pathetic ; How lov'd, how valu'd once, avails thee not ; To whom related, or by whom begot. They sound, at least in my ears, like the voice of sor- row mingled with admiration. Tlie spealcer seems to have been lost, for a while in melancholy contempla- tion ; suddenly breaks out in this abrupt encomium, then melts into tears, and can proceed no farther. Yet in this case, how eloquent is silence ! While it hints the universal esteem which attended, and the superior- ity of birth which distinguished the deceased wife; it expresses beyond all the pomp of words, the yearning affection, and heart-felt affliction, of the surviving husband. Amidst the group of monumental marbles, which are lavish of their panegyric, this, I think, re- sembles the incomparable address of the painter ; who having placed round a beautiful expiring virgin, her friends \n all the agonies of grief, represented the im- equalled anguish of the father with far greater liveli- ness and strength, or rather with an inexpressible em- phasis, by drawing a veil over his face. If the last lines are a wild departure from the beaten tract of our modem epithets, and the very reverse of their high-flown compliments, A heap of dust alone remains of thee ! 'Tis all ttiou art ! and all the proud shall be, — they are not without a precedent, and one of the most consummate kind. Since they breathe the very spirit of that sacred elegy, in which all the heart of the hero and the friend seems to be dissolved; " How are the mighty fallen, and the weapons of war perished !" 2 Sam. i. 27. Tliey remind the reader of that awful lesson which was originally dictated by the supreme Wisdom; " Dust thou art, and imto dust thou shalt return." Gen. iii. 19. — They inculcate, with all the force of the most convincing evidence, that solemn ad- monition delivered by the prophet; "Cease ye from man, whose breath is in his nostrils ; for wherein is he to be accounted of?" Isa. ii. 22. That no reader, however inattentive, might mistake the sense and design of this part of the last line, 'Tis all thou art ! it is guarded above and beneath. — Above is an expand- ed book, that seems to be waved with an air of tri- umph, over the emblem of death ; which we cannot but suppose to be the volume of inspiration, as it ex- hibits a sort of abridgment of its whole contents, in those animated words, " Be ye not slothful but follow- ers of them, who through faith and patience inherit the promises," Heb. vi. 12. — Beneath, that every part might be pregnant with instruction, are these striking reflections ; worthy the consideration of the highest proficient in knowledge and piety, yet obvious to the understanding of the most untaught reader: Life, how short! Eternity, how long! — May my soul learn the forcible purport of this short lesson in her contracted span of time ! and all eternity will not be too long to rejoice in having learned it. • 2 Tiro. iv. 9. all their conversation was harmony. How silken the yoke to such a pair, and what blessings were twisted with such bands ? Every joy was heightened, and every care alleviated. Nothing seemed wanting to consummate their bliss, but a hopefid pro- geny rising around them; that they might see themselves multiplied in their little ones ; see their mingled graces transfused into their ofl!spring ; and feel the glow of their affec- tion augmented, by being reflected from their children. " Grant us this gift," said their united prayers, " and our satisfactions are c^o^^^led, we request no more. " Alas! how blind are mortals to future events ? how unable to discern what is real- ly good !* Give me children, said Rachel, or else I die.f An ardoiu- of impatience al- together imbecoming, and as mistaken as it was unbecoming. She dies not by the disap- pointment, but by the accomplishment of her desire. If children are to parents, Hke a flower)' chaplet, whose beauties blossom with ornament, and whose odoiu-s breathe de- hght ; death or some fell misfortune, may find means to entwine themselves Antli the lovely wreath. Wlienever our souls are poured out, with passionate importunity, af- ter any inferior acquisition, it may be tndy said, in the words of oiu- divine Master, Ye know not what ye ask — Does Providence mthliold the thing that we long for ? It de- nies in mercy ; and only withholds the oc- casion of om- miseiy, if not the instrument of our ruin. With a sickly appetite we often loathe what is wholesome, and hanker after our bane. Where imagination dreams of unmin- gled sweets, there experience frequently finds the bitterness of woe. Therefore may we covet immoderately, neither this nor that form of earthly felici- ty ; but refer the whole of oiu- condition to the choice of mierring wisdom. May we learn to renoimce oiu- o^vn will, and be ready to make a sacrifice of oiu- warmest wishes, whenever they run counter to the good plca- siu-e of God. For indeed, as to obey his laws is to be perfectly free, so to resign our- selves to his disposal, is to establish our own happiness, and to be secure from fear of evil. Here a small and plain stone is placed upon the ground, purchased, one would ima- gine, from the little fund, and formed by the hand of frugality itself. Nothing costly ; not one decoration added ; only a very short inscription ; and that so efl^aced, as to be scarcely intelligible — Was the de])ository unfaithful to its trust ? Or were the letters * Nescia mens hominum sati, sortisque futura:- ! Turno tempus erit, magno cum optaverif emptum, Intactum PaUanta, et cum spolia ista diemciue Oderit. Virg. i Gin. XXX. 1. 10 MEDITATIONS AMONG THE TOMBS. worn, by the frequent resort of the 6ur\a\'ing family, to mourn over the grave, and revive the remembrance of a most vahiable and be- loved relative ? — For I perceive upon a doser inspection, that it covers the remains of a father — A religious father, snatched from his gromng offspring, before they were settled in the world, or so much as their prin- ciples fixed by a thorough education. This, sure, is the most complicated dis- tress, that has hitherto come under our con- sideration. The solemnities of such a dying chamber, are some of the most melting and melancholy scenes imaginable — There lies the affectionate husband ; the indulgent par- ent ; the faithful friend ; and the generous master. He lies in the last extremities, and on the very point of dissolution. Art has done its all. The raging disease mocks the power of medicine. It hastens with re- sistless impetuosity, to execute its dreadful errand; to rend asunder the silver cord of life, and the more delicate tie of social at- tachment and conjugal affection. A servant or two, from a revering dis- tance, cast many a wishful look, and condole their honoured master ia the language of sighs. The condescending mildness of his commands was wont to produce an alacrity of obedience, and render their service a pleasiu-e. Now the remembrance of both embitters their grief, and makes it trickle plentifully down their honest cheeks. — His friends, who have so often shared his joys, and gladdened his mind with their enli\en- ing converse, are now miserable comforters. A sympathizing and mourning pity is all the relief they are able to contribute, unless it be augmented by their silent prayers for the divine succour, and a word of consolation suggested from the scriptures. * — Those poor innocents, the children croud around the bed ; drowned in tears, and almost fran- tic with grief, they sob out their little souls, and passionately cry, " Will he leave us? leave us in a helpless condition ! leave us to an injiuious world !" These separate streams are all united in the distressed spouse, and overwhelm her breast with an impetuous tide of so^ro^vs. In her, the lover weeps, the wife mourns, and all the mother yearns. To her, the loss is beyond measure aggravated, by months and years of delightful society, and exalted friend- sliip Wliere, alas ! can she meet with such unsuspected fidelity, or repose such unreserv- ed confidence ? where find so discreet a coun- .sellor, so improving an example, and a guard- * Texts of scripture proper for such an occasion, fontaining promises — of support under affliction, Lam. iii. .«. Heb. xii. 6. 2 Cor. iv. I7.— of pardon, Isa. i. 10. Isa.liii.5. 1 John ii. I, 2. Acts x. 43.— of justification, Rom. v. 9. Rom. viii. 33, 34, 2 Cor. v. 21 —of victory over death, Psal. xxiii. 4. Psal. Ixxiii. 2fi. 1 Cor XV. 5G, .'i/. — of a happy resunectjon. John vi.40. 2Cor. V. 1 lle%-. vii. 16, 17. ian so sedidously attentive to the interests of herself, and her children ? See ! how she hangs over the languishing bed ; most tender- ly solicitous to prolong a life, important and valuable, far beyond her O'wti ; or, if that be impracticable, no less tenderly officious to soothe the last agonies of her dearer self. Her hands, trembling under direful appre- hensions, \vipe the cold dews from the Uvid cheeks ; and sometimes stay the sinking head on her gentle arms, sometimes rest it on her compassionate bosom See ! how- she gazes, -with a speechless ardour on the pale countenance, and meagre featiu-es ! "While all her soft passions beat unutter- able fondness, and her very soul bleeds with exquisite anguish. The sufferer, all patient and adoring, sub- mits to the divine will ; and, by submission, becomes superior to his affliction. He is sensibly touched with the disconsolate state of his attendants, and pierced with an anxi- ous concern for his wife and his children ; his wife, who wiU. soon be a destitute wi- dow: his children, who \vill soon be help- less orphans. Yet, " though cast down, not in despair." He is greatly refreshed by his trust in the everlasting covenant and his hope of approaching glory. Religion gives a dignity to distress. At each interval of ease, he comforts his very comforters ; and suffers with all the majesty of woe. The soul, just going to abandon the totter- ing clay, collects aU her force, and exerts her last efl^orts. The good man raises himself on his pillow ; extends a kind hand to his servants, who are bathed in tears ; takes an affecting farewell of his friends ; clasps his wife in a feeble embrace ; kisses the dear pledges of their mutual love ; and then pours all that remains of life and strength, in the foUomng words ; — " I die, my dear child- ren : But God, the everlasting God, vnU. be with you Though you lose an earthly pa- rent, you have a Father in heaven, who lives for evermore Nothing, nothing but an unbelieving heart, and irreligious life, can ever separate you from the regards of liis providence — from the endearments of his love." He coidd proceed no farther. His heart was full ; but utterance fiiiled After a short pause, prompted by affectionate zeal, with difficulty, great difficulty, he added — " You the dear partner of my soid ; you are now the only protector of our orphans — I leave you under a weight of cares — But God, who defendeth the cause of the vddow, — God, whose promise is faithfulness, and truth — God hath said, I wiU never leave thee, nor forsake thee.* — This revives my drooping spirits, let this support the wife of * Heb. xiil. S, MEDITATIONS AMONG THE TOMBS. 11 my bosom And now, O Father of com- passions, into thy hands I commend my spi- rit.T — Encom-aged by thy promised goodness, I leave my fatherless " Here he fainted ; fell back upon the bed ; and lay for some minutes, bereft of his sen- ses. As a taper upon the veiy point of ex- tinction, is sometimes suddeidy rekindled, and leaps into a quivering flame ; so life, be- fore it totally expired, gave a parting strug- gle, and once more looked abroad from the opening eye-lids. He would fain have spoke ; fain have uttered the sentence he began. More than once he essayed ; but the organs of speech were become like a broken vessel, and nothing but the obstructing phlegm rat- tled in his throat ; his aspect, however, spoke affection inexpressible. With all the father, all the husband, still living in his looks, he takes one more view of those dear children, whom he had often beheld with a parental triumph. He turns his dying eyes on that beloved woman, whom he had never beheld but with a glow of delight. Fixed in this postm-e, amidst smiles of love, and under a gleam of heaven, they shine out their last. Upon this, the silent sorrow bursts into loud laments. They weep, and refuse to be comforted. Till some length of time had given vent to the excess of passion ; and the consolations of religion had staunched their bleeding woes. Then, the afficted family search for the sentence, which fell unfinish- ed from those loved, those venerable and pious lips. They find it recorded by the prophet Jeremiah, containing the direction of infinite wisdom, and the promise of un- bounded goodness : " Leave thy fatherless children : I will preserve them alive : and let thy widows trust in me."* — This now is the comfort of their life, and the joy of their heart. They treasure it up in their memo- ries. It is the best of legacies, and an inex- haustible fund. A fund, which wiU supply all their wants, by entailing the blessing of heaven on all their honest labours They are rich, they are happy, in this sacred pledge of the divine favour. They fear no evil; they want no good; because God is their portion and their guardian God. No sooner turned from one memento of my own, and memorial of another's decease, but a second, a third, a long succession of these melancholy monitors crowd upon my sight.f — That which has fixed my observa- tion, is one of a more grave and sable aspect than the former. I suppose it preserves the relics of a more aged person. One would conjecture, that he made somewhat of a figure in his station among the living, as his monu- * Jer. xlix. 11. t Plurhna mortis imago. — Virg. ment does among the funeral marbles. Let me draw near, and inquire of the stone. " Who or what is beneath its surface ?" — I am informed, he was once the o^^'ner of a considerable estate : which was much im- proved by his own application and manage- ment : that he left the world in the busy period of life, advanced a little beyond the meridian. Probably, replied my musing mind, one of those indefatigable drudges, who rise early, late take rest, and eat the bread of careful- ness, not to seciure the loving-kindness of the Lord, not to make provision for any reasonable necessity, but only to amass to- gether ten thousand times more than they can possibly use. Did he not lay schemes for enlarging his fortune, and aggrandizing his family ? Did he not purj)ose to join field to field, and add house to house, till his possessions were almost as vast as his de- sires? That, then, he would* sit dowii and enjoy what he had acquired, breathe a while from his toilful pursuit of things temporal, and, perhaps, think a little of things eter- nal. But see the folly of worldly wsdom ! How siUy, how childish is the sagacity of (what is called) manly and masterly prudence, when it contrives more solicitously for time, than it pro\ades for eternity ! How strangely infatuated are those subtile heads which weary themselves in concerting measures for phantoms of a day, and scarce bestow a thought on everlasting realities i — when every wheel moves on smoothly ; when all the well-disposed designs are ripening apnce for execution ; and the long expected crisis of enjoyment seems to approach ; behold ! God from on high laughs at the Babel -builder. Death touches the bubble and it breaks ; it drops into nothing. The cob-web, most finely spun indeed, but more easUy dislodg- ed, is swept away in an instant ; and all the abortive projects are buried in the same grave with their projector. So true is that verdict which the wisdom from above passes on these successfid unfortunates, " They walk in a vain shadow, and disquiet them- selves in vain."-f- Speak ye that attended such a one in his last minutes ; ye that heard his expiring sentiments, did he not cry out, in the lan- guage of disappointed sensuality, " O death I how terrible is thy approach to a man im- mersed in secidar cares, and void of all con- cern for the never ending hereafter? Where, alas ! is the profit, where the comfort of en- tering deep into the knowledge, and of being dexterous in the dispatch of earthly affairs ; * — Hac mente laborem, Scse ferre, senes ut in otia tuta recedant, Aiunt.cum sibi sint congcsta cibaria. — Hor. i Psalm xxxix. 6. 13 MEDITATIONS AMONG THE TOMBS. since I have all the while neglected the one thing needful ? Destnietive mistake ! I have been attentive to every inferior interest. I have laid myself out on the trifles of a mo- ment, but have disregarded heaven ; have forgot eternal ages ! Oh ! that my days." — Here, he was going on to breathe softie fruit- less wshes, or to form I know not what in- effectual resohitions. But a sudden convul- sion shook his nerves ; disabled his tongue ; and, in less than an hoiu-, dissolved his frame. May the children of this world be warned, by the dying words of an imhappy brother ; and gather advantage from his misfortune Why should they pant with such impatient ardour : after white and yellow earth, as if the universe did not afford sufficient for every one to take a little ! Why shoidd they lade themselves mth thick clay, when they are to " run for an incorruptible crown, and press towards the prize of their high calling ?" Why should they overload the vessel, in which their everlasting all is embarked ; or fill their arms wth superfluities, when they are to swim for their lives ? Yet so pi'epos- terous is the conduct of those persons, who are aU industry, to heap up an abundance of the wealth which perisheth, but scarce so much as faintly desirous of being rich to- wards God. O that we may walk from henceforth through all these glittering toys, at least with a wise indifference, if not with a su- perior disdain ! Having enough for the con- veniencies of life, let us only accommodate ourselves with things below, and lay up our treasures in the regions above — Whereas, if we indidge an anxious concern, or lavish an inordinate care, on any transitory posses- sions, we shall rivet them to our affections with so firm an union, that the utmost sever- ity of pain must attend the separating stroke. By such an eager attachment to what wiU certainly be ravished from us, we shall only ensure to ourselves accumidated anguish, against the agonizing hour, we shall plant, aforehand, our dying pillow with thorns. * Some, I perceive, arrived at threescore years and ten, before they made their exit : nay, some few resigned not their breaths, till they had numbered fourscore revolving harvests These, I woidd hope, "remem- bered their Creator in the days of their youth," before their strength became labour and sorrow ; — before that low ebb of lan- guishing natm-e, when the keepers of the house tremble, and those that look out of the windows are darkened ;f when even the * Lean not on earth ; 'twill pierce thee to the heart ; A broken reed at best, but oft a spear ; On its sharp point peace bleeds, and hope expires, ; Night Thoughts, No. III. t Eccl. xii. 3, r). I need not remind my reader, that by the former of these figurative expressions is siffni- lighting do^\^^ of the grasshopper is a burden on the bending shoulders, and desire itself fails in the listless lethargic soul ; — before those hea\'y hours come, and those tiresome moments draw nigh in which there is too much reason to say, " We have no pleasure in them ; no improvement from them." If their lamps were unfurnished with oil, how unfit must they be, in such decrepit cir- cumstances, to go to the market and buy !* For, besides a variety of disorders arising from the enfeebled constitution, their cor- ruptions must be surprisingly strengthened, by such a long coiu-se of irreligion. Evil habits must ha\-e struck the deepest root ; must have tvnsted themselves with every fi- bre of the heart, and be as thoroughly in- grained in the disposition, as the soot in the Ethiopian's comjolexion, or the spots in the leopard's skin. If such a one, under such disadvantages, surmoimts aU the difficulties which lie in his way to glory, it must be a great and mighty salvation indeed. If such a one escapes destruction, and is saved at the last, it must, %vithout all peradventure, be — so as by fire.f This is the season which stands in need of comfort, and is veiy improper to enter upon the conflict. The husbandman should now be putting in his sickle or eating the fruit of his labours ; not beginning to break up the ground or scatter the seed Nothing, it is true, is impossible with. God ; he said, " Let there be light, and there was light" in- stantaneous light, diflused as quick as thought through all the dismal dominion of prime- val darkness. At his command a leprosy, of the longest continuance, and of the ut- most inveteracy, departs in a moment. He can, in the greatness of his strength, quicken the wretch, who has lain dead in trespasses and sins, not four days only, but fourscore years. Yet trust not, O trust not, a point of such inexpressible importance, to so dreadfid an uncertainty. God may suspend his power; may withdi'aw his help ; may swear in his wrath, that such abuses of his long-suffering shall "never enter into his rest." Ye therefore, that are vigorous in health, and blooming in years, improve the precious opportimity. Improve your golden hours to the noblest of all purposes ; such as may render you meet for the inheritance of the saints in light, and ascertain your title to a state of immortal youth, to a crown of eter- nal glory Stand not all the prime of your day idle ; trifle no longer with the offers of tliis immense felicity j but make haste, and fied the enervated state of the hands and arms ; by the latter, the dimness of the eyes, or the total loss of siglit ; that taken in connexion with other parts of the chapter, they exhibit in a series of bold and lively metaphors, a description of the various infirmities at- tendant on old age. * Matt. xJ£v. 9. t 1 Cor. iii. 15. MEDITATIONS AMONG THE TOMBS. 13 delay* not the time to keep God's command- ments. While you are loitering in a gay in- sensibility, death may be bending his bow, and marking you out for speedy victims Not long ago, I happened to spy a thought- less jay. The poor bird was idly busied in dressing his pretty plumes, or hopping care- lessly from spray to spray. A sportsman coming by, observes the feathered rover. Immediately he lifts the tube and levels his blow. Swifter than whirlwind flies the lea- den death ; and in a moment, lays the silly creatui-e breathless on the ground. — Such, such may be the fate of the man, who has a fair occasion of obtaining grace to-day, and wantonly postpones the improvement of it, tiU to morrow. He may be cut off in the midst of his folly, and ruined for ever while he is dreaming of being wise hereafter. Some, no doubt, came to this their last re- treat full of piety, and full of days ; " as a shock of corn, ripe Avith age and laden with plenty, cometh in, in his season. "f — These were children of light and wise in their ge- neration ; ^vise Avith that exalted wisdom which cometh from above; and with that enduring wisdom which lasts to eternity. — Rich also they were, more honourably and permanently rich than all the votaries of mammon. The wealth of the one has made itself wings, and is irrecoverably gone ; while the wretched acquirers are transmitted to that place of penury and pain, where not so much as one drop of water is allowed to cool their scorching tongues, the stores of the other still abide ^vith them ; will never depart from them ; but make them glad for ever and ever in the city of their God. Their treasures were such as no created power could take away, such as none but in- finite beneficence can bestow, and (comfort- able to consider!) such as I, and every in- digent longing sinner may obtain treasiu-es of heavenly knowledge, and sa\ang faith ; treasures of atoning blood and imputed right- eousness. Here| lie their bodies in " peaceful ha- bitations, and quiet resting places." Here they have thrown off eveiy burden, and are escaped from every snare. The head aches no more ; the eye forgets to weep ; the flesh is no longer racked with acute, nor wasted with lingering distemper. Here they re- ceive a final release from pain, and an ever- lasting discharge from sorrow. Here dan- ger never threatens them with her terrifying alarms ; but tranquillity softens their couch, and safety guards theirrepose Rest then, ye precious relics, within this hospitable gloom ; rest in gentle slumbers, till the last trumpet • May I be permitted to recommend, as a treasure of fine sentiments, Dr. Lucas' Inquiry after Happi- ness; and, as a treatise particularly apposite to my sub- ject, that part of his inquiry which displays themethod, and enumerates the advaiitages of improving life, or living much in a little time. Chap. iii. p. 158. — An author, in whom the gentleman, the scholar, and the Christian are remarkably united. — A performance, which in point of solid argument, unaffected piety, and a vein of thought amazingly fertile, has few su- periors. Insomuch that I know not how to wish my reader a more refined pleasure, or a more substantial blessing, than to liave the maxims of this entertain- ing and pathetic writer's little piece, wove into the very texture of his heart. Unless I might be allowed to wish, that the writer himself had interspersed the glorious peculiarities of the gospel (on which our hap- piness so much depends) a little more liberally through all his works. t Job V. 26. f Some, 1 know, are offended at our burjring corpses within the church, and exclaim against it as a very «reat impropriety and indecency. But this, I imagine. proceeds from an excessive and mistaken delicacy. Let proper care be taken to secure from injury the foundations of the building, and to prevent the exhal- ation of any noxions effluvia from the putrefying flesh ; and I cannot discover any inconveniences attend- ing this practice. The notion, that noisome carcases (as thev are call- ed) are very imbecoming a place consecrated to religi- ous purposes, seems to be derived from the antiquat- ed Jewish canon ; whereby it was declared, that a dead body imparted defilement to the person who touched it, and polluted the spot where it was lodged. On which account the Jews were scrupulously careful to have their sepulchres built at a distance from their houses, and made it a point of conscience, not to suf- fer burial places to subsist in the city. But as this was a rite purely ceremonial, it seems to be entirely superseded by the gospel dispensation. I camiot forbear thinking, that under the Christian economy, there is a propriety and usefulness in the custom. — Usefulness, because it must render our so- lemn assemblies more venerable and awful. For, wlien we walk over the dust of our friends, or kneel upon the ashes of our relations, this awakening circum- stance must strike a lively impression of our own mor- tality. And what consideration can be more effectual to make us serious and attentive in hearing, earnest and importunate in praying. As for the fitness of the usage, it seems perfectly suitable to the design of those sacred edifices. They are set apart for God : not only to receive his worship- pers, but to preserve the furniture for holy ministra- tions, and what is in a peculiar manner appropriated to the divine Majesty. Are not the bodies ot the saints the Almighty's property i Were they not once the ob- jects of his tender love ? Are they not still the objects of his special care ? Has he not given commandment concerning the bones of his elect.; and charged the ocean, and enjoined the grave, to keep them till that day ? When rocks bright with gems, or mountains rich with mines, are abandoned to the devouring flames, will not these be rescued from the fiery ruin ! will not these be translated into Jehovah's kingdom, and con- jointly with the soul, made " his jewels," made " his peculiar treasure ;" made to " shine as the brightness of the firmament and the stars for ever and ever." Is not Christ the Lord of our bodies ? Are they not bought with a price; bought not with corruptible things, as silver and gold, but with his divinely pre- cious blood ? And if the blessed Jesus purchased the redemption of our bodies at so infinitely dear a rate, can it enter into our hearts to conceive, that he should dislike to have them reposed under his own habitation ? — Onceroore; Arenot the bodies of thefaithful "tem- ples of the Holy Ghost I" and is there not upon this sup- position, an apparent propriety, rather than the least indecorum, in committing those temples of flesh; to the temples made with Tiands ? They are vessels of honour; instruments of righteousness ; and, even when broken by death, like the fragments of a golden bowl, are valuable, are worthy to be laid up in the safest, most honourable repositories. Upon the whole, since the Lord Jesus has purchas- ed them at the expense of his blood ; and the blessed Spirit has honoured them with his indwelling pre- sence ; since they are right dear in the sight of the adorable Trinity, and undoubted heirs of a glorious immortaUty; why should it bethought a thing im- proper to admit them to a transient rest in thei:r heavenly Father's house? Why may they not lie down and sleep, in the outer courts ; since they are soon to be introduced into the inmost mansions of everlasting honour and joy f 14 MEDITATIONS AMONG THE TOMBS. shall give the welcome signal, and sound aloud through all your silent mansions, " Arise, shine ; for your light is come, and the glory of the Lord is risen upon you." (Isa. Ix. 1.) To those, how calm was the evening of life ! In what a smiling serenity did their sun go do\^Ti ! Wlien their flesh and their heart failed, how reviving was the remem- brance of an all-sufficient Redeemer ; once dying for their sins, now risen again for their justification ! How cheering the ^\•ell ground- ed hope of pardon for their transgressions, and peace with God through Jesus Christ our Lord ! How did this assuage the agonies, and sweeten the bitterness of death ! — ^Vhere now is wealth, with all her golden moun- tains ? Where is honour with her proud trophies of renowTi ? Where are all the vain pomps of a deluded world ? Can they inspire such comfort, can they administer any sup- port in this last extremity? Can they com- pose the affrighted thoughts, or buoy up the departing soul, amidst all the pangs of dis- solution ? — The followers of the Lamb seem pleased and triumpliant even at their last gasp. " God's everlasting arms are un- derneath" (Deut. xxxiii. 27.) their fainting heads. His spirit whispers peace and con- solation to their consciences. In the strength of these heavenly succours, they quit the field, not captives but conquerors ; with " hopes full of immortality." And now they are gone — The struggles of reluctant natiu-e are over. The body sleeps in death, the soul launches into the invisible state. — But who can imagine the delightful surprise, when they find them- selves surrounded by guardian angels, instead of weeping friends ? How securely do they wing their way, and pass through unkno\\ni worlds imder the conduct of those celestial guides The vale of tears is quite lost. Farewell, for ever, the realms of woe, and range of malignant beings ! They arrive on the frontiers of inexpressible felicity. They " are come to the city of the living God ;" while a voice, sweeter than music in her softest strains, sweet as the harmony of hymning seraphim, congratidates their arri- val, and bespeaks their admission : " Lift up your heads, O ye gates ; and be ye lift up, ye everlasting doors, that the heirs of glory may enter in." Here then let us leave the spirits and souls of the righteous, escaped from an entang- ling wilderness, and received into a paradise of delights ! escaped from the territories of disquietude, and settled in regions of unmo- lested security ! Here they sit down \\dth Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, in the kingdom of their Father. Here they mingle with an innumerable company of angels, and rejoice around the throne of the Lamb ; rejoice in the fruition of present felicity, and in the assured expectation of an inconceivable ad- dition to their bliss ; when God shall call the heavens from above, and the earth, that he may judge his people.* Fools account their life madness, and their end to be without honour ; but they are numbered among the children of God, and their lot, their distinguished and eternal lot, is among the saints !f However, therefore, an imdiscerning world may despise, and a profane world vibfy the truly religious ; be this the supreme, the invariable desire of my heart ! " Let me live the life, and die the death of the righteous. Oh ! let my latter end, and future state be like theirs." Wliat figure is that which strikes my eye, from an eminent part of the wall ? It is not only placed in a more elevated situation than the rest, but carries a more s])lendid and sumptuous air than ordinary. Swords and spears, miu-dering engines, and instru- ments of slaughter, adorn the stone with a formidable magnificence. — It proves to be the monument of a noble warrior. Is such respect, thought I, paid to the memory of this brave soldier, for sacrificing his life to the public good ? — Then what honoiurs, what immortal honours, are due to the great captain of our salvation ? who, though Lord of the angelic legions, and su- preme commander of all the heavenly hosts, willingly offered himself a bleeding propitia- tion for sinners. The one died being a mortal, and only j-ielded up a life which was long before for- feited to divine justice ; which must soon have been surrendered as a debt to nature, if it had not fallen as a prey to war. — But Christ took flesh and gave up the ghost, though he was the great I am ; the fountain of existence, who calls happiness and im- mortality all his own. He who thought it no robber)' to be equal with God, he, whose outgoings were from everlasting ; even he was made in the likeness of man, and cut off out of the land of the living. Wonder, O heavens ! be astonished, O earth 1 He died the death, of whom it is witnessed, that he is "the true God, and eternal life." (1 John V. 20.) The one exposed himself to peril in the service of his sovereign and his comitry ; which, though it was glorious to do, yet * Seneca's reflections upon the state of holy souls delivered from the burden of the flesh, are sparkliii" and fine; yet very indistinct and empty, compared with the particulars mentioned above, and with many others that might be collected from scripture. In hoc tam procelloso, ot in omnes tempestates expositona^i- gantibus mari nullus portus, nisi mortis est. Ne itaque invideris fratri tuo; quicscit. Tandsm liber, tandem tutus, tandem eternus est. Fruitur, ninic aperto et liberocoelo; ex humili et depresso in eum emiciiit locum qui solutas vinculis animas beato rec-i- pit sinu ; et nunc omnia, rerum natura bona cum summa voluptate percipit. Sen. ad Polyb. t Wisdom V. 4, 5. MEDITATIONS AMONG THE TOMBS. 15 would have been ignominious, in such cir- cumstances to have declined But Christ took the field, though he was the blessed and only potentate, the King of kings, and Lord of lords. Christ took the field, though he was sure to drop in the engagement ; and put on the harness, though he knew before- hand that it must reek with his blood. That prince of heaven resigned his royal person, not barely to hazard but to the inevitable stroke ; to death, certain in its approach, and armed with all its horrors And for whom ? Not for those who were in any de- gree deserving : but for his own disobedient creatiu-es ; for the pardon of condemned malefactors, for a band of rebels, a race of traitors, the most obnoxious and inexcusable of all criminals ; whom he might have left to perish in their iniquities, vvdthout the least im- peachment of his goodness, and to the dis- play of his avenging justice. The one, it is probable, died expeditious- ly ; was suddenly wounded, and soon slain. A bullet lodged in his heart, a sword sheath- ed in his breast, or a battle-axe cleaving the brain, might put a speedy end to his miserj' ; dispatch him " as in a moment." — Whereas the divine Redeemer expired in tedious and protracted torments. His pangs were as lingering, as they were exquisite. Even in the prelude to his last suffering, what a load of sorrows overwhelmed his sacred humani- ty ! till the intolerable pressure vvrung blood, instead of sweat from every pore ; till the crimson flood bathed his body, stained all his raiment, and tinged the very stones But when the last scene of the tragedy com- menced ; when the executioner's hammer had nailed him to the cross, O ! how many dis- mal hours did that amiable and illustrious sufferer hang ; a spectacle of woe to God, to angels, and to men ! his temples mangled with the thorny crovvn ! his hands and feet cleft vvith the nigged irons ! his flesh covered with woiuids smarting and agonizing in every nerve ! and his soul, his very soul, pierced with pangs of unutterable distress ! — So long he hung, that natiu^e, through aU her domin- ions, was throvvn into sjTnpathizing commo- tions. The earth could no longer sustain such barbarous indignities without trembling, nor the sun behold them vv-ithout horror. Nay, so long did he hang in this extremity of tortiue, that the alarm reached even the remote regions of the dead Never, O my soul, never forget the amazing truth : The lamb of God was seized, was bound, was slaughtered with the utmost inhumanity, and endui'ed death in all its bitterness, for thee ! His murderers, studiously cruel, so gidded the fatal cup, that he tasted every drop of its gall, before he drank it off to the very dregs. Once again : the one died like a hero, and fell gallantly in the field of battle. But died not Christ as a fool dieth!* Not on the bed of honour, with scars of glory on his breast ; but like some execrable miscreant, on a gibbet ! with lashes of the vile scourge on his back ! Yes, the blessed Jesus bovved his expiring head on the accursed tree, suspend- ed between heaven and earth, as an outcast from both, and unworthy of either. AVhat suitable returns of inflamed and adoring devotion, can we make to the Holy One of God, thus dying, that we might live ? dying in ignominy and angiush, that we might live for ever in the heights of joy, and sit for ever on thrones ofglorj' Alas! it is not in us, impotent, insensible mortals, to be duly thankftd. He only who confers such inconceivable rich favoiKs, can enkin die a proper warmth of grateful affection. Then build thyself a monument, most gra- cious Immanuel, build thyself an everlasting monument of gratitude in our souls. In- scribe the memory of thy matchless benefi- cence not with ink and pen, but \\dth that precious blood which gushed from thy wounded veins. Engrave it, not with the hammer and chisel, but with that sharpened spear, which pierced thy sacred side. Let it stand conspicuous and indelible, not on out- ward tables of stone, but on the very inmost tables of our hearts. One thing more, let me observe before I bid adieu to this entombed warrior, and his garnished sepulchre. How mean are those ostentatious methods of bribing the vote of fame, and purchasing a little posthumous re- novvTi ! What a poor substitute for a set of memorable actions, is polished alabaster, or the mimicry of sculptured marble ! The real excellency of this bleeding patriotf is writ- ten on the minds of his countrymen ; it woidd be remembered with applause, so long as the nation subsists, without this ar- tificial expedient to perpetuate it Am! such, such is the monument I would wish for myself. Let me leave a memorial in the breasts of my fellow-creatures. Let siurvivdng friends be.-u- witness that I have not lived to myself alone, nor been alto- gether imsendceable in my generation. O ! * 2 Sara. iii. 33. Of this indignity our Lord com- plains, " Are ye come out as against a thief i" Matth. xxvi. 55. t Sir Eevil Granville, slam in the civil wars at an en- gagement with the rebels. — It may possiblv be some en- tertainment to the reader, to subjoin Sir Bevil's char- acter, as it is drawn by that celebrated pen which wrote the history of those unfortunate times. — " That which would have clouded any victory, says the noble histor- ian, and made the loss of others less spoken of, was the death of Sir Bevil Granville. He was indeed an excel- lent person, whose activity, interest, and reputation, were the foundation of what had been done in Corn- wall : his temper and affections so public, that no ac- cident which nappened, could make any impression upon him ; and his example kept others from taking any thing ill, or at least seeming to do so. In a word, a brighter courage, and a gentler disposition, were never married together, to makethe most cheerful and innocent conversation. — Clar. Hi»t. Reb. vcl. II. 16 MEDITATIONS AMONG THE TOMBS. let an iininten'uptcd series of beneficent offi- ces be the inscription, and the best interests of my acquaintance the plate that exhibits it. Let the poor, as they pass by my grave, ]>oint at the little spot, and thankfully ac- knowledge,— " There lies the man, whose unwearied kindness was the constant relief of my various distresses ; who tenderly visited my languishing bed, and readily supplied my indigent circumstances. How often were his coimsclsaguide to my pei-plexed thoughts, and a cordial to my dejected spirit ! It is owing to God's blessing on his seasonable charities, and prudent consolations, that I now live, and live in comfort." — Let a per- son, once ignorant and imgodly, lift up his eyes to heaven, and- say ^^•ithin himself, as he walks over my bones, " Here are the last remains of that sincere friend, who watched for my soul. I can never forget wth what heedless gaiety I was posting on in the l^aths of perdition ; and I tremble to think, into what irretrievable ruin I might quickly have been plunged, had not his faithful ad- monitions met me in the wild career. I was unacquainted with the gospel of peace, and had no concern for its unsearchable trea- sures ; but now, enliglitened by his instruc- tive conversation, I see the all-sufficiency of my Saviour ; and, animated by his repeated exhortations, I count all tilings but loss that I may win Christ. Methinks, his discourses, seasoned wdth religion, a-nd blessed by grace, stiU tingle in my ears ; are still warm on my heart ; and, I trust, will be more and more operative, till we meet each other in the house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens." The only infallible way of immortaliz- ing our characters, a way equally open to the meanest and most exalted fortune, is " to make our calling and election sure ;" to gain some sweet evidence, that our names are written in heaven. Then, however they may be disregarded, or forgotten among men, they will not fail to be had in everlast- ing remembrance before the Lord This is of all distinctions far the noblest ; this will issue in never dying-renown. Am- bition, be this thy object, and every page of scripture will sanctify the passion ; even grace itself will fan thy flame As to earthly memorials, yet a little while, and they are all obliterated. The tongue of those, whose happiness we have zealously promoted, must soon be silent in the coffin. Characters cut with a pen of iron, and com- mitted to the solid rock, will, ere long, cease to be legible.* But as many as are inrolled "in the Lamb's book of Life," he himself declares, shall never be blotted out * Data sunt ipsis quoque fata sepulchris. — Juv. from those annals of eternity. (Rev. iii. 5.) When a flight of years has mouldered the triumphal cohimn into dust ; when the brazen statue perishes, under the corroding hand of time ; those honours still continue ; still are blooming and incorruptible, in the world of glory. Make the extended skies your tomb : Let stars record your worth ; Yet know, vain mortals, all must die, As nature's sickliest birth. Would bounteous heav'n indulge my pray'r, I frame a nobler choice ; Nor living, wish the pompous pile; Nor dead, regret the loss. In thy fair book of life divine. My God, inscTibe my name ; There let it fill some humble place. Beneath the slaughter'd Lamb. Thy saints, while ages roll away. In endless fame survive; Their glories o'er the wroi-gs of time, Greatly triumphant live. Yonder entrance leads, I suppose, to the vault. Let me tuni aside and take one view of the habitation, and its tenants The sullen door grates upon its hinges ; not used to receive many visitants, it admits me with reluctance andmurmiu-s What mean- eth this sudden trepidation, while I descend the steps, and am visiting the pale mansions of the dead ? — Be composed my spirits : there is nothing to fear in these quiet cham- bers ; here, even " the wicked cease from troubling." Good heavens ! what a solemn scene ! how dismal the gloom ! Here is perpetual darkness, and night even at noon-day How doleful the solitude ! Not one trace of cheer- ful society ; but sorrow and terror seem to have made this their dread abode Hark! how the hollow dome resounds at every tread. The echoes, that long have slept, are awakened, and whisper along the walls. A beam or two finds its way through the grates, and reflects a feeble glimmer from the nails of the coffins. So many of those sad spectacles, half concealed in shades, htJf seen dimly by the baleful twilight, add a deeper hoiTor to these gloomy mansions I pore upon the inscriptions, and am just able to pick out, that these are the remains of the rich and renowned. No vulgar dead are deposited here. The most illustrious, and right honourable, have claimed this for their last retreat. And indeed, they retain somewhat of a shadowy pre-eminence. They lie, ranged in mournful order, and in a sort of silent pomp, under the arches of an ample sepulchre : while meaner corpses, without much ceremony, " go down to the stones of the pit." My apprehensions recover from their sur- prise. I find here are no phantoms, but such as fear raises. However, it still amazes me, to observe the Avonders of this MEDITATIONS AMONG THE TOMBS. nether world. Those who received vast revenues, and called whole lordships their own, are here reduced to half a dozen feet of earth, or confined in a few sheets of lead. Rooms of state and sumptuous fur- niture, are resigned for no other ornament than the shroud, for no other apartment than the darksome niche. Wliere is the star that bhzed upon the breast ; or the coronet that glittered roimd the temples ? The only remains of departed dignity are, the weather-beaten hatchment, and the tat- tered escutcheon. I see no splendid re- tinue surrounding this solitary dwelling. The lordly equipage hovers no longer about the lifeless master. He has no other at- tendant than a dusty statue ; which, while the regardless world is as gay as ever, the sculptor's hand is taught to weep. Those who gloried in high bom ances- tors, and noble pedigree, here drop tlieir lofty pretensions. They acknowledge kind- red with creeping things, and quarter arms with the meanest reptiles. They say to comiption, Thou art my father ; and to the worm. Thou art my mother and my, sister Or should they still assume the style of distinction, alas ! how impotent were the claim ! how apparent the ostenta- tion ! it is said by their monument, here lies the great ! how easily is it replied by the spectator ? — False marble ! Where ! No- thing but poor and sordid dust lies here. Mortifying truth ! sufficient, one would think, to wean the most sanguine appetite from this transitory state of things ; from its sickly satisfactions, its fading glories, its vanishing treasures. For now, ye lying vanities of life ! Ye ever tempting, ever cheating train ! Where are ye now, and what is your amount ?* What is all the world to these poor breathless beings? — What are their plea- sures ? A bubble broke What their ho- nours ? A dream that is forgotten WTiat the sum-total of their enjoyments below ? Once, perhaps, it appeared to inexperience and fond desire, something considerable ; but now death has measured it with his line, and weighed it in his scale; what is the upshot ? Alas ! it is shorter than a span, lighter than the dancing spark, and driven away like the dissolving smoke. Indulge my soul, a serious pause. Re- collect aU the gay things that were wont to dazzle thine eyes, and inveigle thy affections. Here examine those baits of sense ; here form an estimate of their real value. Sup- pose thyself first among the favourites of i fortime, who revel in the lap of pleasure, i who shine in the robes of honour, and s-\\-im in tides of inexhausted riches ; yet Thomson's Winter, line 2J0 la-it edit. how soon would the passing-bell p thy exit ' and when once that iron < summoned thee to thy future recKujui.g, where woidd all these gratifications be? At that period, how will all the pageantry of the most affluent, conspicuous, or lux- urious circumstances, vanish into empty air ! — And is this a happiness so passion- ately to be coveted ? I thank you, ye relics of sounding titles, and magnificent names ; ye have taught me more of the littleness of the world, than all the volumes of my library. Your no- bility, arrayed in a winding-sheet ; your grandeur, mouldering in an urn ; are the most indisputable proofs of the nothingness of created things. Never, surely, did Pro- vidence WTite this important point, in such legible characters, as in the ashes of my Lord, or on the corpse of his Grace.* — Let others, if they please, pay their obse- quious court to your wealthy sons ; and ig- nobly fa\vn, or anxiously sue for prefer- ments ; my thoughts shall often resort, in pensive contemplation, to the sepulchre of their sires ; and learn from their sleeping dust — to moderate my expectations from mortals ; to stand disengaged from every undue attachment to the little interests of time — to get above the delusive amuse- ments of honour, the gaudy tinsels of wealth, and all the empty shadows of a perishing world. Hark ! what soimd is that ? — In such a situation, every noise alarms — Solemn and slow it breaks again upon the silent air It is the striking of the clock, designed, one would imagine, to ratify all my serious me- ditations. Methinks it says Amen, and sets a seal to every improving hint. It tells me. That another portion of my appointed time is elapsed. One calls it, " The knell of my departed hours." It is the watch- word to \agilance and activity. It cries, in the ear of reason, " Redeem the time. Catch the favom^ble gales of opportunity : O ! catch them while they breathe ; before they are irrecoverably lost. The span of life shortens continually. Thy minutes are all upon the wing, and hastening to be gone. Thou art a borderer upon eternity, and making incessant advances to the state thou art contemplating." May the admo- nition sink deep into an attentive and obe- dient mind ! May it teach me that heaven- ly arithmetic of " numbering my days, and applying my heart unto wisdom !" I have often walked beneath the impend- ing promontor}''s craggy cliff; I have some- times trod the vast spaces of the lonely de- sert, and penetrated the inmost recesses of * — Mors sola fatetur Quantuia sint hominum corpuscula.— Jt(i'. C 18 MEDITATIONS AMONG THE TOMBS. the dreary cavern ; but never, never beheld nature lowering, with so tremendous a form ; never felt such impressions of awe, striking cold on my heart, as under these black-browed arches, amidst these moiUdy walls, and surrounded by such ruefid ob- jects : where melancholy, deepest melan- choly, for ever spreads her raven-wings Let me now emerge from the damp and dreadful obscurity — Farewell, ye seats of desolation, and shades of death ! — Gladly I revisit the realms of day. Having cast a superficial view upon these receptacles of the dead, ciuiosity prompts my inquiry to a more intimate survey. Coidd we draw back the covering of the tomb ; could we discern what those are now, who once were mortals ; — oh ! how would it surprise and grieve us ! Surprise us, to behold the prodigious transformation which has taken place on every individual ; grieve us, to observe the dishonour done to our nature in general within these subter- raneous lodgments ! Here the sweet and winning aspect, that wore perpetually an attractive smile, grins horribly a naked, ghastly skull. — The eye, that outshone the diamond's brilliancy, and glanced its lovely lightnings into the most guarded heart, alas I where is it ? Where shall we find the rolling sparkler ! — How are all its sprightly beams eclipsed, totally eclipsed ! —The tongue, that once commanded all the sweetness of harmony, and aD the powers of eloquence, in this strange land has " I'orgot its cunning." Where are now those strains of melody, which ra\'ished our ears ? Where is that flow of persuasion, which carried captive our judgments? The great master of language, and of song, is become silent as the night that suu^rounds him. — The pampered flesh, so lately clothed in purple and fine linen, how is it covered rudely with clods of clay ! There was a time when the timerously nice creature woidd scarce " adventure to set a foot upon the ground, for delicateness and tenderness," (Deut. xxviii. 36.) bat is now enwrapped in clam- my earth, and sleeps on no softer a pillow than the rugged gravel stones — Here " the strong men bow themselves ;" the nervous arm is unstrung : the bra\vny sinews are relaxed ; the limbs, not long ago the seats of vigour and activity, lie down motionless ; and the bones which were as bars of iron, are crumbled into dust. Here the man of business forgets all his favourite schemes, and discontinues the piu"suit of gain. Here is a total stand to the circulation of merchandize, and the hur- ry of trade. In these solitary recesses, as in the building of Solomon's temple, is heard no sound of the hammer and axe. The winding-sheet and the coffin are the utmost bound of all earthly defaces ; " Hi- therto may they go, but no farther." — Here the sons of pleasure take a final farewell of their dear delights. No more is the sensualist anointed with oil, or crowned with rosebuds ; he chants no more to the melody of the viol, nor revels any longer at the banquet of wine. Instead of sumptu- ous tables and delicious treats, the poor voluptuary is himself a feast for fattened insects ; the reptile riots in his flesh, " the worm feeds sweetly on him." ( Job xxiv.20. ) — Here also beauty fails ; bright beauty drops her lustre here. O ! how her roses fade, and her lilies languish in this bleak soil ! How does the grand leveller pour contempt upon the charmer of our hearts ! How turn to deformity, what captivated the world before ! Could the lover have a sight of his once enchanting fair one, what a startling aston- ishment would seize him ! — " Is this the ob- ject I not long ago so passionately admired ! I said she was divinely fair, and thought her somewhat more than mortal. Her form was symmetiy itself; every elegance breathed in her air ; and all the graces waited on her mo- tions.—It was music when she spoke, but when she spoke encovu^agement, it was little less than rapture. How my heart danced to those charming accents ! — And can that which some weeks ago was to admiration lovely, be now so insuflTerably loathsome ! — Where are those blushing cheeks : where the coral lips ; where that ivoiy neck, on which the curling jet in such glossy ringlets flow- ed ; with a thousand other beauties of per- son, and ten thousand delicacies of action?* — Amazing alteration ! delusory bliss ! — Fondly I gazed upon the glittering meteor ; it shone biightly, and I mistook it for a star, for a permanent and substantial good. — But how is it fallen ! fallen from an orb not its own ! and all that I can trace on earth, is but a putrid mass." Lie, poor Florello, lie deep as thou dost in obscure darkness. Let night with her impenetrable shades, always conceal thee. May no prying eye be witness to thy dis- grace; but let thy surn^dng sisters think upon thy state, when they contemplate the idol in the glass. WTien the pleasing images rise gracefully to view, surrounded with a world of charms : and flushed with joy at the consciousness of them all ; — then, in some minutes of temptation and danger, when vanity uses to steal into the thoughts ; — then let them remember what a veil of horror is drawn over a face, which was once beautiful and brilliant as theirs^. Such a seasonable reflection might regulate the la- Quo fugit Venus ! Heu ! quove color ? decens Quo motus ? Quid habet illius, illius, QuEC spirabat amores, Quae me surpuerat mihi 1—Hor. MEDITATIONS AMONG THE TOMBS. 19 bours of the toilet, and create a more earn- est solicitude to polish the jewel, than to x'arnish the casket. It might then become their highest ambition, to have the mind decked with divine virtues, and dressed after the amiable pattern of their Redeemer's ho- liness. And would this prejudice their persons, or depreciate their charms ? — Quite the re- verse : it would spread a sort of heavenly glory over the finest set of features, and heighten the loveliness of every other en- gaging accomplishment And what is yet a more inviting consideration, these flowers would not wither with nature, nor be tar- nished by time : but would open continual- ly into richer beauties, and flourish even in the winter of age But the most incom- parable recommendation of these noble qualities is, that from their hallowed relics as from the fragrant ashes of the phoenix, will ere long arise an illustrious form, bright as the \nngs of angels, lasting as the light of the new Jerusalem. For my part, the remembrance of this sad revolution shall make me ashamed to pay my devotion to a shrine of perishing flesh, and afraid to expect all my happiness from so brittle a joy. It shall teach me, not to think too highly of well proportion- ed clay, though formed in the most elegant mould, and animated with the sweetest soul. 'Tis heaven's last, best, and crowning gift, to be received with gratitude, and cherished with love, as a most valuable blessing ; not worshipped with the incense of flatteiy, and strains of fulsome adoration, as a goddess. — It will cure, I trust, the dotage of my eyes : and incline me always to prefer the substantial " ornaments of a meek and vir- tuous spirit," before the transient decora- tions of white and red on the skin. Here I called in my roving meditations from their long excursion on this tender subject. Fancy listened a while to the so- liloquy of a lover ; now judgment resumes the reins, and guides my thoughts to more near and self-interesting inquiiies How- ever, upon a review of the whole scene, crowded with spectacles of mortality and trophies of death, I could not forbear smit- ing my breast, and fetching a sigh, and la- menting over the noblest of all visible be- ings, lying in ruins under the feet of " the pale horse, and his rider." (Rev. vl. 8.) I could not forbear that pathetic exclama- tion, " O ! thou Adam, what hast thou done !" (2 Esdr. vii. 41.) What desolation has thy disobedience wrought in the earth ! See the malignity, the ruinous malignity, of sin ! Sin has demolished so many stately structures of flesh ; sin has made such havoc among the most excellent ranks of God's lower creation ; and sin (that deadly bane of our nation) would have plunged our better part into the execrable horrors of the nether- most hell, had not our merciful Mediator in- terposed, and given himself for our ransom. — Therefore, what grateful acknowledg- ments does the whole world of penitent sin- ners owe ; what ardent returns of love will a whole heaven of glorified believers pay to such a friend, benefactor and deliverer ! Musing upon these melancholy objects, a faithful remembrancer suggests from with- in— " Must this sad change succeed in me also ? Am I to draw my last gasp, to be- come a breathless corpse, and to be what I de- plore?* Is there a time approaching, when this body shall be carried out upon the bier, and consigned to its clay-cold bed ? while some kind acquaintance, perhaps, may drop one parting tear ; and cry, alas ! my brother, — Is the time approaching?" — Nothing is more certain. A degree, much surer than the law of the Medes and Persians, has ir revocably detennined the doom. Should one of these ghastly figures burst from his confinement, and start up in fright- ful deformity before me ; — should the hag- gard skeleton lift a clattering hand, and point it fuU in my view ; — shoidd it open the stiflfened jaws, and with a hoarse tre- mendous miu-mur, break this profound si- lence ; — shoiUd it accost me, as Samuel's apparition addressed the trembling king — " The Lord shall deliver thee also into the hands of death ; yet a little while, and thou shalt be \vith me."f — The solemn warning, delivered in so striking a manner : must strongly impress my imagination ; a message in thunder would scarce sink deeper. Yet there is abundantly greater reason to be alarmed by that express declaration of the Lord God Almighty, " Thou shalt surely die." — Well then, since sentence is passed, since I am a condemned man, and know not when the dead warrant may arrive let me die to sin, and die to the world, before I die beneath the stroke of a righteous God. Let me employ the little uncertain interval of respite from execution, in preparing for a happier state and a better life ! that, when the fatal moment comes, and I am com- « I pass, with melancholy state. By all these solemn heaps of fate; And think, as soft and sad I tread. Above the venerable dead. " Time was, like me, they life possess'd; And time will be when I shall rest." Parnel. t 1 Sam. xxviii. 19. On this place, the Dutch translator of the Meditations has added a note ; to correct, very probably, what he supposes a mistake. On the same supposition, I presume, the compilers of our rubric, ordered the last verse of Ecclus. xlvi. to be omitted, in the daily service of the church. But that the sentiment hinted above, is strictly true ; that it was Samuel himself (not an infernal spirit, personat- ing the prophet) who appeared to the female necro- mancer at Endor : appeared not in compliance with any diabolical incantation, but in pursuance of the di- vine commission; this, I think, is fully proved in the Historical Account of the life of David, Vol. 1. chap. 23. 20 MEDITATIONS AMONG THE TOMBS. niandcd to shut my eyes upon all things here below, I may open them again, to see my Saviour in the mansions above. Since this body, M'hich is so fearfully and wonderfully made, must fall to pieces in the grave ; since I must soon resign all my bodily powers to darkness, inactivity and corruption : let it be my constant care to use them weU, while I possess them ! — Let my hands be stretched forth to relieve the needy, and always be " more ready to give than to receive." — Let my knees bend in deepest humiliation before the throne of grace ; while my eyes are cast down to the earth in penitential confusion, or devoutly looking up to heaven for pardoning mercy ! — In every friendly interview, let the " law of kindness dwell on my lips ;" or rather if the seriousness of my acquaintance permits, let the gospel of peace flow from my tongue. O ! that I might be enabled in every public concourse, to lift up my voice like a triim- pet ; and pour abroad a more joyful sound than its most melodious accents, in pro- claiming the glad tidings of free salvation ! — Be shut, my ears, resolutely shut, against the malevolent whispers of slander and the contagious breath of filthy talking ; but be swift to hear the instructions of wisdom, be all attention when your Redeemer speaks ; imbibe the precious truths, and convey them carefully to the heart Carry me, my feet, to the temple of the Lord ; to tlie beds of the sick, and houses of the poor. May all my members, devoted entirely to my divine Master, be the \villing instruments of pro- moting his glor}-. Then, ye embalmers, you may spare your pains ; these works of faith and labours of love ; these shall be my spices and perfumes. Enwrapped in these, I would lay me gently down, and sleep sweetly in the blessed Je- sus ; hoping that God wiU " give command- ment concerning my bones ;" and one day fetch them up from the dust, as silver from the furnace purified, — " I say not seven times, but seventy times seven." Here my contemplation took wing ; and, in an instant alighted in the garden adjoin- ing to Mount Calvary. Having viewed the abode of my deceased fellow-creatures, me- thought I longed to see the place where our Lord lay. And, oh what a marvellous spectacle was once exhibited in this memor- able sepulchre ! He* " who clothes him- self with light, as with a garment ; and walks upon the vdngs of the wind ;"f He was pleased to wear the habiliments of mor- • Darkness his curtain and his bed the dust, Tho' sun and stars are dust beneath his throne. Niffht Thou^ht.i. + The sacred scriptures, speaking of the Supreme Being, say — He walketh upon the waves of the sea, to denote his uncontrollable power. Job. ix. 8. — He tality, and dwelt among the prostrate dead. — Who can repeat the wondrous truth too often ? Who can dwell upon the transport- ing theme too long? He who sits enthron- ed in glory, and diffuses bliss among all the heavenly hosts, was once a pale and bloody corpse, and pressed this little spot. O death ! how great was thy triumph in that hour ! Never did thy gloomy realms contain such a prisoner before. — Prisoner, did I say ? No ; he was more than conquer- or. He arose far more mightily than Sam- son, from a transient slumber, broke down the gates, and demolished the strongholds of those dark dominions. — And this, O mortals, this is oiu- only consolation and security. Jesus has trod the dreadful path, and smoothed it for our passage. — Jesus sleeping in the chambers of the tomb, has brightened the dismal mansion, and left an inviting odour in those beds of dust. The dying Jesus (never let the comfortable truth depart from your minds) is your sure protec- tion, your unquestionable passport through the territories of the grave. Believe in him, and they shall prove a "highway to Sion ;" shall transmit you safe to paradise. Believe in him ; and you shall be no losers, but im- speakable gainers, by your dissolution. For hear what the oracle of heaven says upon this important point. Whoso believeth in me, shall neverdie." (John xi. 26.) — What sublime and emphatical language is this ! Thus much, at least, it must import ; — • " The nature of that last change shall be surprisingly altered for the better. It shall no longer be inflicted, as a punish- ment ; but rather be vouchsafed as a bless- ing. To such persons, it shall come attend- ed with such a train of benefits, as will ren- der it a kind of happy impropriety, to call it dying. Dying ! No ; 'tis then they truly begin to live. Their exit is the end of their frailty, and their entrance upon perfection. Their last groan is the prelude to life and immortality." O ye timorous souls, that are terrified at the sound of the passing-bell ; that turn pale walketh in the circuit of heaven, to express the im- mensity of his presence. Job xxii. 14.— He walketh upon the wings of the wind, to signify the amazing swiftness of his operation, Psal. civ. 3. — In which last phrase, there is, I think, an elegance and em- phasis, not taken notice of by our commentators, and yet unequalled in any writer. — Not he flieth ; he run- neth ; but he walketh ; and that on the very wings of the wind ; one of the most impetuous elements, rous- ed into its utmost rage, and sweeping along with in- conceivable rapidity. A tumult in nature, not to be described, is the composed and sedate work of the Deity. A speed not to be measured, is (with rever- ence I use tne expression, and to comport with our low methods of conception) the solemn and majestic foot-pace of Jehovah. — How flat are the following lines, even in the great master of lyric song, Ocyor cervis, et agentenimbos Ocyor Euro, when compared with this inimitable stroke of divine poetry ! — He walketh upon the wings of the wind. MEDITATIONS AMONG THE TOMBS. 21 at the sight of an opened grave ; and can scarce behold a coffin, or a skull, v\'ithout a shuddering horror ; ye that are in bondage to the grisly tyrant, and tremble at the shak- ing of his iron rod ; 017 mightily to the Fa- ther of your spirits, for faith in his dear Son. Faith will free you from your sla- very.* Faith wiU embolden you to tread on (this fiercest of) serpents, (Lukex. 19.) Old Simeon, clasping the child Jesus in the ai'ms of his flesh, and the glorious Mediator in the arms of his faith, departs with tran- quillity and peace. That bitter persecutor Saul, hanng won Christ, being found in Christ, longs to be dismissed from cum- brous clay, and kindles into rapture at the prospect of dissolution, (Phil. i. 23. 2 Tim. iv. 7, 8.) Methinks I see another of Immanuel's followers, trusting in his Sa- viour, leaning on his Beloved, go dovvTi to the silent shades with composure and alac- rity, (2 Pet. i. 14.) In this powerful name, an innumerable company of sinful creatures have set up their banners ; and " overcome through the blood of the Lamb." Author- ized by the Captain of thy salvation, thou also mayest set thy feet upon the neck of this king of terrors. Furnished with this antidote, thou also mayest play around the hole of the asp, and put thy undaunted hand on this cockatrice den, (Isa. xi. 8.) Thou mavest feel the viper fastening to thy mor- tal part, and fear no evil : Thou shalt one day shake it off by a joyful resurrection, and suffer no harm, (Acts xxviii. 35.) Resurrection ! that cheering word eases my mind of an anxious thought, and solves a most momentous question. I was going to ask, " Wherefore do all these corpses lie here, in this abject condition ? Is this their final state ? Has death conquered ? and will the tyrant hold captivity captive ? How long wilt thou forget them, O Lord ? For ever ?" — No, saith the voice from heaven, the word of divine revelation : The righte- ous are all " prisoners of hope ;" ( Zech. ix. 12.) There is an hour (an awful secret that, and known only to all-foreseeing wis- • Death's terror is the mountain faith removes ; 'Tis faith disarms destruction — Believe, and look with triumph on the tomb. These and some other quotations I am proud to bor- row from the Night Thoughts, especially from Night the Fourth ; in which energy of language, sublimity of sentiment, and the most exquisite beauties of poe- try are the least perfections to be admired. Almost every line glows with devotion, rises into the most exalted apprehensions of the adorable Redeemer, and is animated with the most lively faith in his all-suffi- cient mediation. The author of this excellent per- formance has the peculiar felicity of ennobling all the strength of style, and every delicacy of imagination, with the grand and momentous truths of Christiani- ty. These thoughts give the highest entertainment to the fancy, and impart the noblest improvement to the mind ; they not only refine our taste, but prepare us for death, and ripen us for glory. I never take up this admirable piece, but I am ready to cry out, — Te- cum vivereamem, tecum obeam libens, i.e. " Inspire me with such a spirit, and life shall be delightful, nor death itself unwelcome." dom) an appointed hour there is, when an act of grace will pass the great seal above, and give them an universal discharge, a ge- neral delivery from the abodes of corrup- tion. Then shall the Lord Jesus descend from heaven, with the shout of the archan- gel, and the trump of God. Destruction itself shall hear his call, and the obedient grave give up her dead. In a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, they shake off the sleep of ten thousand years, and spring forth, Uke the bounding roe, " to meet their Lord in the air." And, O ! with what cordial congratula^ tions, what transporting endearments, do the soul and body, those affectionate compan- ions, re-unite ! But with how much greater demonstrations of kindness, are they both received by their compassionate Redeemer ! The Ancient of days, who comes in the clouds of heaven, is their friend, their fa- ther, their bridegroom. He comes with irresistible power, and infinite glory. But they have nothing to fear from his majestic appearance. Those tremendous solemni- ties, which spread desolation and astonish- ment through the universe, serve only to in- flame their love, and heighten their hopes. The Judge, the awful Judge, 'midst all his magnificence and splendoiu', vouchsafes to confess their names, vouchsafes to comme- morate their fidelity, before all the inhabi- tants of the skies, and the whole assembled world. Hark ! the thunders are hushed. See ! the lightnings cease their rage, the angelic armies stand in silent suspense ; the whole race of Adam is wrapt in pleasing or anx- ious expectation — And now that adorable person, vvhose favour is better than life, whose acceptance is a crown of glory, lifts up the light of his countenance upon the righteous. He speaks ; and what ravish- ing words proceed from his gracious lips ! What ecstasies of delight they enkindle in the breasts of the faithful ! " I accept you, O my people ! Ye are they that believed in my name. Ye are they that renounced yourselves, and are complete in me. I see no spot or blemish in you : for ye are washed in my blood, and clothed with my righteousness. Renewed by my Spirit, ye have glorified me on earth, and have been faithful unto death. Come, then, ye ser- vants of holiness, enter into the joy of yoiu: Lord. Come, ye children of light, ye bless- ed of my Father, receive the kingdom that shall never be removed ; wear the crown which fadeth not away, and enjoy pleasures for evermore !" Then it will be one of the smallest privi- leges of the righteous, that they shall lan- guish no more ; that sickness will never iigain show her pale countenance in their 22 MEDITATIONS AMONG THE TOMBS. dwellings. * Death itself, will be " swallow- ed up in victory." That fatal javelin which has drank the blood of monarchs, and finds its way to the hearts of all the sons of Adam, shall be utterly broken. That enormous scythe, which has struck empires from their root, and swept ages and generations into oblivion, shall lie by in perpetual useiess- ness. Sin also which filled thy quiver, thou insatiate archer! — sin, which strung thy arm with resistless vigour, which point- ed all thy shafts with inevitable destruc- tion— sin, will then be done away. What- ever is frail or depraved, will be thrown oflF with our grave-clothes. AU to come is perfect holiness, and consummate happi- ness ; the term of whose continuance is eternity. O Eternity! eternity! how are our nobles, our boldest, our strongest thoughts lost and overwhelmed in thee ! Who can set land- marks to limit thy dimensions, or find plum- mets to fathom thy depths ! Arithmeticians have figures to compute all the progressions of time; Astronomers have instruments to calcidate the distances of the planets ; but what numbers can state, what lines can gauge, the lengths and depths of eternity ? " It is higher than heaven ; what canst thou do? deeper than hell ; what canst thou know ? The measure thereof is long- er than the earth, broader than the sea." (Job xi. 8, 9.) Mysterious, mighty existence ! A sum not be lessened by the largest deductions ; an extent not to be contracted by all possi- ble diminutions ! None can truly say, after the most prodigious waste of ages, " So much of eternity is gone." For when mil- lions of centuries are elapsed, it is but just commencing; and when millions more have run their ample round, it will be no nearer ending. Yea, when ages, numerous as the bloom of spring increased by the her bage of summer, both augmented by the leaves of autumn, and all multiplied by the drops of rain, which A'own the winter — when these, and ten thousand times ten thousand more — more than can be repre- sented by any similitude, or imagined by any conception ; — ^when all these are revolv- ed and finished, eternity, vast, boundless, amazing eternity, wiU only be beginning. What a pleasing, yet awful thought is this ! full of delight, and fuU of dread. O may it alarm our fears, quicken our hopes, and animate aU our endeavours ! Since we are soon to launch into this endless and in- conceivable state, let us give all diligence • Isaiah, speaking of the new Jerusalem, mentions this as oneof its impunities. The inhabitants there- of shall no more say, I am sick. Another clause in its royal charter runs thus, God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes ; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow nor crying; neither shall there bo any more pain. ]sa. xxxui. 24. Rev. xxi. 1. to secure our entrance into bliss. — Now let us give all diligence, because there is no alteration in the scenes of futurity. The wheel never turns ; all is steadfast and im- moveable beyond the grave. Whether we are then seated on the throne, or stretched on the rack, a seal -will be set to our con- dition, by the hand of everlasting mercy, or inflexible justice. — The saints always rejoice amid the smiles of heaven : their harps are perpetually tuned ; their triumphs admit of no interniption. — The ruin of the wicked is irremediable. The fatal sen- tence, once passed, is never to be repealed. No hope of exchanging their doleful ha- bitations. But all things bear the san>e dismal aspect for ever and ever. The wicked — My mind recoils at the apprehension of their misery.* It has studiously waved the fearfid subject, and seems unwilling to pursue it even now — But, 'tis better to reflect upon it for a few minutes, than to endiu-e to eternal ages. Perhaps, the consideration of their aggra- vated misery may be profitably terrible ; may teach me more highly to prize the Sa- viour, who, " delivers from going dowTi to the bottomless pit ;" may drive me, like the avenger's sword, to this only city of refuge for obnoxious sinners. The wicked seem to lie here, like male- factors in a deep and strong dungeon, re- served against the day of trial. — " Their departure was without peace." Clouds of horror sat lo\vring upon their closing eye- lids, most sadly foreboding " the blackness of darkness for ever." When the last sick- ness seized their frame, and the inevitable change advanced ; when they saw the fatal arrows fitting to their strings ; saw the dead- ly archer aiming at their heart; and felt the envenomed shaft fastened in their vi- tals.— Good God ! what fearfulness came upon them ! what horrible dread over- whelmed them. How did they stand shud- dering and aghast upon the tremendous precipice ? excessively afraid to plmige into the abyss of eternity, yet utterly unable to maintain their standing on the verge of life. O ! what pale reviews, what startling prospects conspire to augment their sor- rows ! They look backward, and behold, a most melancholy scene ! Sins unrepented of, mercy slighted, and the day of grace ending. — They look forward, and nothing presents itself but the righteous Judge, the dreadful tribimal, and a most solemn reck- oning.— They roll around their aflrighted eyes on attending friends. — If accomplices in debaircheiy, it shaq)ens their anguish, to consider this further aggravation of their guilt, that they have not sinned alone, but * Animus meininisse horrel luctuque refugit.— Virf MEDITATIONS AMONG THE TOMBS. 23 drawn others into the snaxe. If religious acquaintances, it strikes a fresh gash into their hearts to think of never seeing them any more, but only at an unapproach- able distance separated by the impassable gulf. At last, perhaps, they begin to pray. Find- ing no other possible way of relief, they are constrained to apply unto the Almighty; with trembling lips and a faltering tongue, they cry imto that sovereign Being, " who kills and makes alive." — But why have they deferred, so long deferred, their ad- dresses to God ? Why have they despised all his counsels, and stood incorrigible im- der his incessant reproofs? How often have they been forewarned of these terrors, and most importunately entreated to seek the Lord, while he might be found? — I wish they may obtain mercy at the eleventh, at the last hour. I wish that they may be snatched from the jaws, the opened, the gaping, the almost closing jaws of damna- tion. But, alas ! who can teU, whether af- fronted Majesty mU lend an ear to their complaint ? whether the holy One wiU work a mkacle of gi-ace in behalf of such transgressors ? He may, for aught any mor- tal knows, " laugh at their calamity, and mock when their fear cometh." Thus they lie, groaning out the poor remains of life ; their limbs bathed in srweat ; their hearts struggling with con- vulsive throes ; pains insupportable throb- bing through every pulse; and innumer- able darts of agony transfixing their con- science. In that dread moment how the frantic soul Raves round the walls of her clay tenement : Runs to each avenue ; and shrieks for help ; But shrieks in vain ! how wishfully she looks On all she's leaving, now no longer hers ! A little longer, yet a little longer, O ! might sne stay, to wash away her crimes. And fit her for her passage ! Mournful sight ! Her very eyes weep blood ; and every groan She heaves, is big with horror; but the foe. Like a staunch murd'rer steady to his purpose. Pursues her close through every lane of life, Nor misses once the track, but presses on ; Till forc'd at last to the tremendous verge. At once she sinks.* If this be the end of the ungodly, " My soul, come not thou into their secret ! Unto their assembly, mine honour, be thou not tmited !" — How awfully accomplished is that prediction of inspired wisdom ! " Sin, though seemingly sweet in the commission, yet at last it biteth like a serpent, and sting- eth like an adder." Happy dissolution ; were this the pe- riod of their woes. But, alas I all these tribulations are only the " beginning of sorrows ;" a small drop only from that cup of trembling, which is mingled for their • See a valuable Poem, entitled The Grave. futiu-e portion.. — No sooner has the last pang dislodged their reluctant souls but they are hiuried into the presence of an in- jured angry God ; not imder the conduct- ing care of beneficent angels, but exposed to the insults of accursed spirits, who lately tempted them, now upbraid them, and will for ever torment them. — Who can imagine their confusion and distress, when they stand, guilty and inexcusable, before their incensed Creator ? They are received -with frov^'ns : " The God that made them, has no mercy on them." (Isa. xx\'ii. 11.) The Prince of peace rejects them %vith abhorrence. He consigns them over to chains of darkness, and receptacles of despair, against the se- verer doom, and more public infamy, of the great day. Then all the vials of ^vrath wiU be emptied upon these WTCtched crea- tures. The law they have violated, and the gospel they have slighted ; the power they have defied, and the goodness they have abused ; will all get themselves honour in their exemplary destruction. Then God^ the God to whom vengeance belongeth, will draw the arrow to the very head, and set them as the mark of his inexorable dis- pleasure. Resurrection will be no privilege to them ; but immortality itself their everlasting curse. — Would they not bless the grave, " that land where all things are forgotten ;" and wish to lie eternally hid in its deepest gloom ? But the dust refuses to conceal their persons, or to draw a veU over their practices. They must also awake ; must arise ; must appear at the bar : and meet the Judge : a judge before whom " the pil- lars of heaven tremble, and the earth melts away ;" a Judge once long-suffering and very compassionate, but now unalterably determined to teach stubborn offenders, — what it is to provoke the Omnipotent God- head ; what it is to trample upon the blood of his Son, and offer despite to all the gra- cious overtures of his Spirit. O ! the perplexity ! the distraction ! that must seize the impenitent rebels, when they are summoned to the great tribunal ! What will they do in this day of severe \'isitation ! this day of final decision Where ? how ? whence can they find help ? — To which of the saints will they tiu^i ? whither betake themselves for shelter or for succoiu-? Alas ! it is all in vain ; it is all too late. — Friends and acquaintances know them no more ; men and angels abandon them to their approaching doom ; even the Me- diator, the Mediator himself deserts them in this dreadful hour.-;- To fly, it will be impracticable : to justify themselves, still more impossible; and now to make any supplications, utterly unavailable. Behold ! the books are opened ! the se- crets of all hearts are disclosed ! the hid- 24 MEDITATIONS AMONG THE TOMBS. den things of darkness are brought to light ! How empty, how ineffectual now, are all those refined artifices, with which hypo- crites imposed upon their fellow creatures, and preserved a character in the sight of men ! — the jealous God, who has been about their path, and about their bed, and espied out all their ways, " sets before them the things that they have done." They cannot answer him one in a thousand, nor stand in the awful judgment. The heavens reveal their iniquities, and the earth rises up against them. (Job xx. 27.) They are speechless Avith guilt, and stigmatized with infamy before all the ai-mies of the sky, and all the nations of the redeemed. — What a favour would they esteem it, to hide their ashamed heads in the bottom of the ocean, or even to be buried beneath the ruins of the tottering world ! If the contempt poured upon them be thus insupportable, how will their hearts endure, when the sword of infinite indigna- tion is unsheathed, and fiercely waved around their defenceless heads, or pointed directly at their naked breasts ! How must the wretches scream with mid amazement, and rend the very heavens with their cries, when the right aiming thimderbolts go abroad ! go abroad with a di'eadful commis- sion, to drive them from the kingdom of glory ; and plunge them — not into the sor- rows of a moment, or the tortures of an hour, but into all the restless agonies of un- quenchable fire, and everlasting despair.* Misery of miseries ! too shocking for re- flection to dwell upon. But if so dismal to foresee, and that at a distance, together with some comfortable expectation of es- caping it. — O ! how bitter, inconceivably bitter, to bear without any intermission, or any mitigation, through hopeless and eter- nal ages ! Who has any bowels of pity ? Who has any sentiments of compassion ? Who has any tender concern for his fellow creatures ? Who ? in God's name, and for Christ's sake, iet him show it by warning every man, and beseeching every man, to seek the Lord while he may be found ; to throw down the arms of rebellion, before the act of indem- nity expires ; submissively to adore the Lamb, while he holds out the golden scep- tre Here let us act the friendly part to mankind ; here let the whole force of our benevolence exert itself : in exhorting rela- tions, acquaintance, neighbours, whomso- ever we may probably influence, to take the wings of faith unfeigned, or repentance un- delayed, and flee away from this wrath to come. Upon the whole, what stupendous disco- veries are these ! Lay them up in a faithful remembrance, O my soul. Recollect them with the most serious attention, when thou liest down, and when thou risest up. When thou walkest ; receive them for thy com- panions ; when thou talkest, listen to them as thy prompters ; and whatever thou dost, consult them as thy directors Influenced by these considerations, thy views will greaten, thy affections be exalted, and thoof Christ's converts. And the vast number, ) (/. d. In the day of thy power, when thy glorious gospel shall be published in the world, and accompa- nied with marvellous efficacy, — in that memorable period, thy people discontinuing the former oblations, commanded under the Mosaic law, shall devote them- selves as so many living sacrifices to thy honour, not constrained by force, but charmed with thy excel- lency, they shall come in volunteers to thy service, and be free-will-offerings in thy church. — Neither shall they be "empty vines," or bare professors ; but shall walk in all the beauties of holiness, and bring forth such amiable fruit, as will adorn the doctrine they embrace. — What is still more desirable, they shall be as numerous as they are willing and holy. Born to thee in numbers, immense and inconceivable, ex- ceeding even the countless myriads of dew-drops, which are begotten by the night, and issue from the womb of the recent inorning. By this interpretation, the text, I think, is cleared of its obscurity, and appears both truly sublime, and perfectly just. May 1 be pardoned the digression, and acquitted from presumption, if on this occasion, I take leave to animadvert upon what seems harsh and unnatural in the common exposition of the last verse of this psalm ? All the commentators (as many at least as I have consulted) inform their readers, that to drink of the brook in the way, signifies to vmdergo sufferings .and death ; which, in my opinion, is a construction extremely forced, and hardly supportable; altogether remote from the import of such poetical forms of diction usual among the eastern nations; In those sultry climes, nothing could be more welcome to the traveller than a brook streaming near his paths. To quench his thirst arul lave his feet in the cooling current, was one of the greatest refreshments imagin- able, and re-animated him to pursue his journey. For which reason, among others, brooks are a very favourite image with the inspired penman ; used to denote a situation fertile and delightful, or a state of pleasure and satisfaction ; but never, that I can recol- lect, to picture out the contrary condition of tribu- lation and distress. The water-floods, indeed, in the sacred \vritings, of- ten represent some imminent danger or grievous af- fliction. But then they are not— streams so calm, that they keep within their banks, and glide quietly by the traveller's footsteps; so clear that they are fit for the way-faring man's use, and invite his lips to a draught; both which notions are plainly implied in the text. They are rather boisterous billows, bursting over a ship, or dashing themselves with dreadful im- petuosityupon the shore; or, sweeping inundations, which bear down all before them , and drown the neigh- bouring country. Besides, in these instances of hor- ror, we never find the words— Heshall drink; which conveys a pleasing idea (unless when it relates to a cup, filled with bitter, intoxicating, or impoisoned li(luor8 ; a case quite different from that under con« 30 REFLECTIONS ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. mily, and replenish thy chiu-ch ; till they become like the stars of the sky, or the sands of the sea, for multitude ; or even as niunberless as these fine spangles, which now cover the face of nature Behold then, ye obstinately wicked, though you " are not ga- thered, yet will the Saviour be glorious." His design shall not miscarry, nor his labour prove abortive, though you render it of none effect vdth regard to yourselves. Think not that Immanuel will want believers, or heaven inhabitants, because you continue incorrigible. No : the Lamb that was slain, will " see of the travail of his soul, and be satisfied," in a never-failing series of faith- ful people below, and an immense choir of glorified saints above ; who shall form his retinue, and surround his throne, in shining and triumphant armies, such as no man can number Here I was reminded of the various ex- pedients which Providence, unsearchably wise, uses to fructify both the material and intellectual world. — Sometimes you shall have impetuous and heavy sho^vers, burst- ing from the angry clouds. They lash the plains, and make the rivers foam. A storm brings them, and a deluge follows them. — At other times these gentle dews are form- ed in the serene evening air ; they steal down by slow degrees, and with insensible stillness ; so subtile that they deceive the nicest eye ; so silent that they escape the most delicate ear ; and when fallen, so very light, that they neither bruise the tenderest, nor oppress the weakest flower, — very dif- ferent operations ! yet each concurs in the same beneficial end ; and both impart fer- tility to the lap of nature. So, some persons have I known reclaim- ed from the imfruitful works of dai'kness, by violent and severe means. The Almighty sideration,) but either, such words as import terror and astonishment, or else to rush upon, to overwhchn, and even to burv under the waves. Upon the whole, may not the passage more pro- perly allude to the influences of the Holy Ghost ? which were communicated in unmcasurable degrees to our great High Priest, and were in fact the cause of his surmounting all dilficulties.— These are frequently represented by waters: "Whoso believeth on me, out of his belly shall flow rivers of living waters." The enjoyment of them is described by drinking; "He that drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst."— Then the sense may run in this well-connected and perspicuous manner. It is asked. How shall the Redeemer be able to execute the va- rious and important offices foretold in the preceding parts of the psalm; the Prophet replies. He shall drink of the brook in the way. He shall not be left barelv to his hmnan nature, which must unavoidably sink under the tremendous work of recovering a lost world, but, through the wholecourseofhis incaniate state, through the whole administration of his medi- atorial kindgom, shall be supported with omnipotent succours. He shall drink at the brook of .-Almighty power, and travel on in the greatness of an uncreated strength.— Therefore shall he lift up liis head. I!y this means shall he be equal to the prodigious task. and superior to all oi)position. By this means, shall he be thoroughly successful in whatever he under- takes, and greatly triumphant over all his enemies. addressed their stubborn hearts, as he ad- dressed the Israelites at Sinai, with light- ning in his eyes, and thtnider in his voice. The conscience, smit with a sense of guilt, and apprehensive of eternal vengeance, trem- bled through all her poM'ers ; just as that strong mountain tottered to its centre. Pangs of remorse, and agonies of fear, pre- ceded their new birth. They were reduc- ed to the last extremities, almost overwhelm- ed with despair, before they foiuid rest in Jesus Christ. — Others have been recovered from a vain conversation, by methods more mild and attractive. The Father of spirits applied himself to their teachable minds, in " a still and small voice," His grace came down, as the rain into a fleece of wool ; of, as these softening drops, which now water the earth. The kingdom of God took place in their souls, without noise or obser- vation. They passed from death unto life, from a carnal to a regenerate state, by almost imperceptible advances. The tran- sition resembled the growth of com ; was very visible \\hen affected ; though scarce sensible, while accomplishing. — O thou Au- thor and Finisher of our faith, recal us from our wanderings, and re-unite us to thyself ! Whether thou alarm us with thy terrors, or allure us with thy smiles ; whether thou drive us with the scourge of conviction, or draw us with the cords of love ; let us, in any wise, return to thee ; for thou art oiu: supreme good ; thou art our only happi- ness. Before I proceed fiuther, let me ascend the terrace, and take one survey of the neighbouring country What a prospect rushes upon my sight ! How vast ! how various ! how " full and plenteous with all manner of store !" Nature's U'hole wealth ! — What a rich and inexhaustible magazine is here, furnishing subsistence for every creature ! Metliinks I read in these spacious volumes, a most lively comment upon that noble celebration of the divine beneficence , He openeth his hand, and fiUeth all things living with plenteousness. These are thy glorious works. Parent of good ! Almighty ! Thine this universal frame, Thus wondrous fair 1 Thyself how wondrous then . Miltan. The fields are covered deep, and stand thick with corn. They expand the milky grain to the sun, in order to receive from his beams a more firm consistence, and a golden hue ; that they may be qualified to fill the barns of the husbandman with plen- ty, and his heart with gladness. Yonder lie the meadows, smoothed into a pcifect level ; decorated with an embroid- ery of the gayest flowers, and loaded with* * Injussa virescunt Oramina. Virg. REFLECTIONS ON A FLOWER GARDEN. 31 spontaneous crops of herbage ; which, con- verted into hay, will prove a most commo- dious provision for the banenness of win- ter ; will supply with fodder our serviceable animals, when all the verdure of the plain is killed by frosts or biu-ied in snows. — A Avinding stream glides along the Howery margin, and receives the image of the bend- ing skies, and waters the root of many a branching willow. It is stocked, no doubt, with variety of fish, which afford a solitary diversion to the angler, and nourish for his table a delicious treat. Nor is it the only merit of tliis liquid element, to maintain the finny nations : it also carries cleanliness, and dispenses fruitfidness, wherever it roUs the crystal ciurent. The pastiu"es with their verdant mounds, chequer the prospect, and prepare a stand- ing repast for oiu' cattle. There " om- oxen are made strong to labom*, and oiu- sheep bring forth thousands and ten thou- sands." There the horse acquires vigour, for the dispatch of our business ; and speed, to expedite oiu* journeys. From thence the kine bring home their udders distended with one of the richest and healthiest liquors in the world. On several spots a grove of trees, like some grand colonnade, erects its towering head. Every one projects a friendly shade for the beasts, and creates an hospitable lodging for the birds. Every one stands ready, to fiu-nish timber for a palace, masts for a navy ; or with a more condescending courtesy, fuel for our hearths One of them seems skirted with a -nild uncultivat- ed heath ; which, like well-disposed shades in painting, throws an additional lustre on the more ornamented parts of the landscape. Nor is its usefidness, like that of a foU, re- lative only, but real. There several valua- ble creatures are produced, and accommoda- dated without any expense or care of oiu-s. There likewise spring abundance of those herbs, which assuage the smart of oiur wounds, and allay the fiery tumults of the fever ; which impart floridity to our circu- lating fluids, add a more vigorous tone to our active solids, and thereby repair the de- cays of oiu- enfeebled constitutions. Nearer the houses we perceive an ample spread of branches ! not so stately as the oaks, but more amiable for their annual ser- vices. A little while ago, I beheld them ; and all was one beauteous, boundless waste of blossoms. The eye marvelled at the lovely sight, and the heart rejoiced in the prospect of autumnal plenty. But now the blooming maid is resigned for the useful matron ; the flower is fallen, and the fruit swells out on every twig Breathe soft, ye viands ! O, spare the tender fruitage, ye surly blast ! Let the pear-tree suckle her juicy progeny, till they drop into our hands and dissolve in our mouths. Let the plumb hang unmolested upon her boughs, till she fatten her delicious flesh, and cloud her po- lished skin with blue. And as for the apples, that stapple commodity of our or- chards, let no injiu-ious shocks precipitate them immatiu-ely to the ground ; till re- vohing suns have tinged them with a ruddy complexion, and concocted them into an ex- quisite flavoui-. Then, what copious hoards, of what burnished rinds, and what delight- ful relishes, Avill replenish the store-room ! Some, to present us with an early enter- tainment, and refresh our palates amidst the sultry heats ; some, to borrow ripeness from the falling snows, and carry autumn into the depths of winter ; some, to adorn the salver, make a part of the dessert, and give an agreeable close to our feasts:* others, to fill oiu: vats with a foaming flood, which, mellowed by age, may sparkle in the glass, with a liveliness and delicacy little inferior to the blood of the grape. I observe several small inclosures, which seem to be apprehensive of some hostile visit from the north ; and therefore, are de- fended, on that quarter, by a thick wood or a lofty wall. At the same time, they cul- tivate an uninterrupted correspondence with the south, and throw open their whole di- mensions to its friendly warmth. One, in particular, lies mthin the reach of a distin- guishing view, and proves to be a kitchen- garden. It looks, methinks, like a plain and frugal republic. Whatever may resemble the pomp of courts, or the ensigns of royal- ty, is banished from this humble commimi- ty. None of the productions of the oli- tory afiect finery, but all are habited with perfect decency. Here those celebrated qualities are eminently united, the utmost simplicity with the exactest neatness.f A skilful hand has parcelled out the whole ground into narrow beds, and interven- ing alleys. The same discreet management has assigned to each verdant family a pecu- liar and distinct abode. So that there is no confusion amidst the greatest multiplicity ; because every indi\ddual is associated with propriety, and all the tribes are ranged with regularity. If it be pleasing to behold their orderly situation, and their modest beauties ; how much more delightful, to consider the advantages they yield! What a fund of choice accommodations is here ! what a source of wholesome dainties ! and all for the enjoyment of man. Why doas the pars- ley, with her frizzled locks, shag the bor- der ; or, why the celery, with her whiten- ing arms, perforate the mold, but to render his soups savoury ? The asparagus shoots Ab ovo Usque ad mala Hor, t Simplex muiulitiia. — Hor. 32 REFLECTIONS ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. his tapering stems to offer him the first friiits of the season ; and the artichoke spreads its turgid top, to give him a treat of vegetable marrow. The tendrils of the cucumber* creep into the sun ; and, though basking in its hottest rays, they secrete for their master, and barrel up for his use the most cooling juices of the soil. The beans stand firm, like files of embattled troops ; the peas rest upon their props, like so many companies of invJilids ; while both re- plenish their pods with the fatness of the earth, on purpose to pour it on their owner's table — Not one species among all this va- riety of herbs is a cumberer of the ground. Not a single plant but it is good for food, or some way salutary. With so benefi- cent an economy are the several periods of their ministrations settled, that no portion of the year is left destitute of nourishing esculents. What is still more obliging, every portion of the year affords such escu- lents as are best suited to the temperature of the air, and the state of our bodies. Why then should the possessor of so valu- able a spot envy the condition of kings,f since he may daily walk amidst rows of peaceable and obsequious, though mute subjects. Every one of which tenders him some agreeable present, and pays him a willing tribute, such as is most happily adapted both to supply his wants, and to regale his taste ; to furnish him at once with plenty and ■vnth pleasure. At a distance, one descries the mighty hiUs. They have their huge ridges among the clouds ; and look like the barriers of kingdoms or the boundaries of nature. Bare and deformed as their surface may ap- pear, their bowels are fraught with inward treasures ! treasures lodged fast in the quar- ries, or sunk deep in the mines. From thence industry may draw her implements, to plough the soil, to reap the grain, and pro- cure every necessary convenience. From thence, art may fetch her materials to rear the dome, to swell the organ, and form the noblest ornaments of politer life. On another side, the great deep termi- nates the view. There go the ships ; there is that leviathan ; and there, in that world of waters, an inconceivable number of ani- mals have their habitation. This is the capacious cistern of the universe, which ad- • Virgil, with great conciseness, and equal proprie- ty, describes the cucumber— Tortusqiie jier herbam Cresceretin ventrem cucumis Georg. IV. Milton has (if we admit Dr. Bently's alteration, which is, I thinlg in this place, unquestionably just) almost translated the Latin poet, Forth crept The swelling gourd.— Poj-. Lost, B. 7. /. 320. ♦ Hie rarum tamen in dumis olus, albaque circura Lilia verbenasqiie preraens, vescumque papaver, Regum a?d fructify with their showers, whatever our hand plants? — The fields are our exhaustless granary. — The ocean is our vast reservoir. — The animals spend their strength to dis- patch our business ; resign their clothing to replenish our wardrobe ; and surrender their very lives to provide for our tables. — In short, every element is a store-house of conveniences, every season brings us to choicest productions ; all nature is our ca- terer And wliich is a most endearing re- commendation of these favours, they are as lovely as they are useful. You observe nothing mean or inelegant. All is clad in beauty's fairest robe,* and regulated by pro- portion's nicest rule. The whole scene exhibits a fund of pleasures to the imagina- tion, at the same time that it more than supplies all our wants, f Therefore thou art uiexcusable, O man, whosoever thou art, that rebellest against thy Rlaker. He siu-rounds thee with un- numbered benefits, and follows thee with an eflfusion of the richest, noblest gifts. He courts thy aflfections, he solicits thy grati- tude, by liberalities which are never inter- mitted, by a bounty which knows no limits. — Most blessed Lord, let this thy goodness, thy unwearied goodness, lead us to repent- ance. Win us to thyself, thou fountain of felicity, by these sweet inducements. Draw us to our duty, thou God of oiu: salvation, by these "cords of love." What a living picture is here of the be- neficial effects of industry ! By industry and cultivation, this neat spot is an image of Eden. Here is aU that can entertain the eye, or regale the smell. | Whereas with- out cidtivation, this sweet garden had been a desolate wilderness ; vile thistles had made it loathsome, and tangling briers inaccessi- ble. Without cultivation, it might have been a nest for serpents, and the horrid haunt of venomous creatures. But the spade and pruning knife, in the hand of in- dustry, have improved it into a sort of ter- restrial paradise. regularity and economy, as if they were conveyed by pipes from a conduit ? — To whom shall we ascribe that niceness of contrivance, which now emits, now restrains them ; sometimes drives their humid train to one place, and sometimes to another; dispenses them to this soil in larger, to that in smaller com- munications : and, in a word, so manages the mighty fluid, that every spot is supplied in exact proportion to its wants, none destroyed by an undistinguished deluge. * Perhaps it was f/om such an observation that the Greeks, those critical and refined judges of things, expressed the mundane system, by a word which sig- nifies beauty. t " Those several living creatures, which are made for our service, or sustenance, at the same time either fill the woods with music, furnish us with game, or raise pleasing ideas in us by the delightfulness of their appearance. Fountains, lakes, and rivers, are as re- freshing to the imagination as to the soil through which they pass." — Spectator, vol. v. No. 387. t Omnis copia narium, — Horace. 46 REFLECTIONS ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. How naturally does this lead our con- templation, to the advantages which flow from a virtuous education, and the miseries which ensue from the neglect* of it ! — The mind, without early instruction, will, in all probability, become like the " vineyard of the sluggard." If left to the propensities of its own depraved will, what can we ex- pect, but the most luxuriant growth of un- ruly appetites, which, in time may break forth in all manner of scandalous irregular- ities ? What ! — ^but that anger, like a prick- ly thorn, arm the temper with an mitracta- ble moroseness ; peevishness, like a sting- ing nettle, render the conversation ij'ksome and forbidding ; avarice, like some choak- ing weed, teach the fingers to gripe, and the hands to oppress ; revenge, like some poi- sonous plant, replete with baneful jiuces, rankle in the breasts, and meditate mischief to its neighbour ; while unbridled lusts, like swarms of noisome insects, taint each rising thought, and render " every imagination of the heart only evil continually." — Such ai'e the usual products of savage nature ! such the furniture of the uncultivated soul ! Whereas, let the mind be put under the " nurture and admonition of the Lord ;" let holy discipline clear the soil ; let sacred in- Btruction sow it with the best seed ; let skill and vigilance dress the rising shoots, direct the young ideas how to spread, the wayward passions how to move — then, what a difl^erent state of the inner-man will quick- ly take place ; charity will breathe her sweets, and hope expand her blossoms ; the personal virtues display their graces, and the social ones their fruits :f the sentiments be- come generous ; the carriage endearing, the life honourable and useful. | O ! that governors of families and mas- ters of schools would watch, with a consci- entious solicitude, over the morals of their tender charge ! What pity is it that the ad- vancing generations should lose these inva- luable endowments through any supineness in their instructors ! — See ! ^\^th what assi- duity the curious florist attends his little nursery ; he visits them early and late, fur- nishes them with the properest mould, sup- » Neglectis urenda filix inascitur agris. — Horace. + This transformation of the heart, and renewal of the life, are represented in scripture, by similitudes very nearly allied to the image used above — God, by his sanctifying Spirit, will make the soul as a watered garden. Under the operation of this divine principle, the desert shall rejoice, and blossom as the rose. Wherever it exerts the refining and ennobling energy, " instead of the thorn, shall come up the fir-tree; find, instead of the brier, the myrtle-tree," Jer- xxxi. 12. Isa. XXXV. 1, and Iv. 13. ± — A teneris assuescere tanti est ! — Virg. The principles we imbibe, and the habits we con- tract, in our early years, are not matters of small mo- ment, but of the utmost consequence imaginable. They not only give a transient or superficial tincture to our first appearance in life, but most commonly itamp the form of our whole future conduct, and even of our eternal state. plies them with seasonable moisture, guards them from the ravages of insects, screens them from the injuries of the weather, marks their springing buds, observes them atten- tively through their whole progress, and never intermits his anxiety, till he beholds them blown into full perfection. — And shall a range of painted leaves, which flourish to- day, and to-morrow fall to the ground, — shall these be tended with more zealous ap- plication than the exalted faculties of an im- mortal soul ! Yet trust not in cidtivation alone. It is the blessing of the almighty Husbandman which imparts success to such labours of love. If God " seal up the bottles of hea- ven," and command the clouds to withhold their fatness, the best manured plot be- comes a barren desert. And if He restain the dew of his heavenly benediction, all hu- man endeavours miscarry ; the rational plan- tation languishes ; our most pregnant hopes from youths of the most promising genius prove abortive. Their root will be as rot- tenness, and their blossoms will go up as dust. (Isa. V. 24.) Therefore, let parents plant, let tutors water, but let both look up to the Father of spirits for the desired increase. On every side, I espy several budding flowers. As yet they are like bales of su- perfine cloth from the packer's warehouse. Each is wrapt within a strong inclosure, and its contents are tied together by the firmest bandages. So that all their beauties lie concealed, and all their sweets are lock- ed up Just such is the niggardly wretch, whose aims are all turned inward, and meanly terminated upon himself, who makes his own private interest or personal plea- sure, the sole centre of his designs, and the scanty circumference of his actions. Ere long, the searching beams will open these silken folds, and draw them into grace- ful expansion. Then what a lovely blush •will glow in their cheeks ; and what a balmy odour exhale from their bosoms ! So, when divine grace shines upon the mind, even the churl becomes bountiful ; the heart of stone is taken away, and a heart of flesh, a heart susceptible of the softest, most compassion- ate emotions, is introduced in its stead. O .' how sweetly do the social aflfections dilate themselves, under so benign an influence ! Just like those disclosing gems, under the powerful eye of day. The tender regards are no longer confined to a single object, but extend themselves into a generous concern for mankind, and shed liberal refreshments on all within their reach.* * The prophet, describing the charitable temoeif, very beautifully says, " If thou draw out thy soul to the hungry !"— This, 1 thiL'k may not improperly be illustrated by the circumstances obieivedabove. The REFLECTIONS ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. 47 Arise then, thou Sun of Righteousness ; Bi-ise with healing under thy wings ; and transfuse thy gentle, but penetrating ray through all our intellectual powers. En- large every narrow disposition, and fill us with a diffusive benevolence. Make room in our breasts for the whole human race, and teach us to love all our fellow-creatures for their amiable Creator's sake. May we be pleased with their excellencies, and re- joice in their happiness, but feel their mis- eries as our own, and with a brother's sym- pathy, hasten to relieve them. Disposed at proper distances, I observe a range of strong and stately stalks. They stand like towers along the walls of a forti- fied city, or rise like lofty spires amidst the group of houses. They part at the top into several pensile spiky pods, from each of which we shall see a fine figure displacing itself; rounded into a form which consti- tutes a perfect circle; spread ^vide open, into the most frank and communicative air ; and tinged with the colour, which is so pe- culiarly captivating to the miser's eye. But the property I chiefly admire, is its passionate fondness for the sun. When the evening shades take place, the poor flower droops, and folds up its leaves. It mourns all the long night, and pines amidst the gloom, like some forlorn lover, banished from the object of his affections. No soon- er does providence open " the eye-lids of the morning," but it meets and welcomes the returning light ;• courts and caresses it all the day ; nor ever loses sight of the re- fulgent charmer, so long as he continues above the horizon. In the morning, you may perceive it presenting a golden bosom to the east ; at noon, it points upward to the middle sky ; in the evening, follows the same attractive influence to the west. Sm'ely nature is a book, and every page rich with secret hints. To an attentive mind, the garden turns preacher, and its blooming tenants are so many lively ser- mons. What an engaging pattern, and what an excellent lesson have we here ! So, let the redeemed of the Lord look unto Je- sus, ( Heb. xii. 2. ) and be conformed to their beloved. Let us all be heliotropes (if I may use the expression) to the Sun of Righteousness. Let our passions rise; and opening of those buds into a large and extensive spread, is a pretty portrait of the amplitude of a gen- erous heart, which cannot shut up its compassion, or remain unconcerned at any human calamity. The freeness and copiousness with which the expanded flowers are continually pouring out their choicest essences, may represent the various acts of an un- wearied liberality, together with those endearing words, and that cordial affection, which embalm, as it were, a gift, double its value ; and constitute, what the sacred penman styles, drawing out the soul, De- prompseris animam tuam, Isa. Iviii. 10. • Ilia suum, quamvis radice tenetur, Vertitur ad Solem.- Ovid. fall, take this course or that, as his word determines, as his holy example guides. Let us be so accommodated, both to his commanding and providential will, as the wax is turned to the imprinted seal ; or, as the aspect of this enamoured flower, to the splendid star which creates oiu* day. In every enjoyment, O thou watchful Christian, look unto Jesus ; receive it as proceeding from his love, and purchased by his agonies. * In every tribulation look unto Jesus ; mark his gracious hand, managing the scourge, or mingling the bitter cup ; at- tempering it to a proper degree of severity ; adjusting the time of its continuance ; and ready to make these seeming disasters pro- ductive of real good. In every infirmity and failing, look unto Jesus, thy merciful high priest, pleading his atoning blood, and making intercession for transgressors. In every prayer look imto Jesus, thy prevail- ing advocate, recommending thy devotions, and "bearing the iniquity of thy holy things." (Exod. xxviii. 38. ) In every temp- tation, look unto Jesus, the author of thy strength, and captain of thy salvation, who alone is able to lift up the hands which hang do\vn, to invigorate the enfeebled knees, and make thee more than conqueror over all thy enemies ; but especially when the hour of thy departure approaches ; when " thy flesh and thy heart fail ;" when all the springs of life are irreparably breaking, then look imto Jesus with a believing eye.f Like expiring Stephen, behold him stand- ing at the right hand of God, on purpose to succour his people in this their last extremi • ty. Yes, my Christian friend, when thy journey through life is finished, and thou art arrived on the very verge of immor- tality; when thou art just laimched out in- to the invisible world, and all before thee is vast eternity; then, O then, be sure to look steadfastly unto Jesus ! " See by faith the Lord's Christ." View him as the on- ly way (John xiv. 6.) to the everlasting mansions, as the only door (Johnx. 9.) to the abodes of bliss. Yonder tree, which faces the south, has something too remarkable to pass without observation. Like the fruitful though fee- ble vine, she brings forth a large family of branches, but, unable to support them her- self, commits them to the tuition of a sunny wall. As yet the tender twigs have scarce gemmed their future blossoms. However, I may anticipate the well known produc- tions, and picture to myself the passion- flower, which will, in due time, Avith a long and copious succession, adorn the boughs. ♦ He sunk beneath our heavy woes. To raise us to his throne ; There's not a gift his hand bestows But cost his heart a groan. — Watts. ■f " Look unto me, and be ye saved, all the endu of the earth," Isa. xlv. 22. 48 REFLECTIONS ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. I have read, in a Latin author, of flowers inscribed with the names of kijigs ;* but here is one emblozened with the marks of the bleeding Prince of Life. I read in the inspired writings, of apostolic men, who bore about in their bodies the dying of the Lord Jesus; (2 Cor. iv. 10.) but here is a blooming religioso, that carries apparent memorials of the same tremendous and fa- tal catastrophe. Who would have expect- ed to find such a tragedy of woe exhibited in a collection of the most delicate delights ? or to see Calvary's horrid scene pourtrayed on the softest ornaments of the garden? Is nature then actuated by the noble ambi- tion of paying commemorative honours to her agonizing Sovereign ? Is she kindly offi- cious to remind forgetful mortals of that miracle of mercy, which it is their duty to contemplate, and their happiness to believe ? Or, is a sportive imagination my interpre- ter ; and all the supposed resemblance, no more than the precarious gloss of fancy ? Be it so ; yet even fancy has her merit, when she sets forth, in such pleasing im- agery, the crucified Jesus. Nor shall I refuse a willing regard to imagination her- self, when she employs her creative powers to revive the sense of such unparalleled love, and prompt my gratitude to so divine a friend. That spiral tendril, arising from the bot- tom of the stalk, is it a representation of the scourge which lashed the Redeemer's unspotted flesh, and inflicted those stripes by which our souls are healed ! Or, is it twisted for the cord which bound his hands in painful and ignominious confinement; those beneficent hands, which were inces- santly stretched out to unloose the heavy burdens, and to impart blessings of every choice kind ? — Behold the nails which were drenched in his sacred veins, and rivetted his feet to the accursed tree ; those beauti- ful feet.f which always went about doing good ; and travelled far and near, to spread the glad tidings of everlasting salvation. See the hammer, ponderous and massy, which drove the rugged iron through shiv- ering nerves, and forced a passage for those dreadful wedges, between the dislocated bones. View the thorns, which encircled our royal Master's brow, and shoot their keen afilictive points into his blessed head. O the smart! the racking smart! when, instead of the triumphal laurel, or the odo- riferous garland, that pungent and ragged wreath was planted on the meek Messiah's forehead ! when violent and barbarous blows of the strong Eastern cane,* struck the j)rickly crown, and fixed every thorn deep in his throbbing temples, f There stand the disciples, ranged in the green empale- ment ; and forming a circle round the instru- ments of their great Commander's death. They appear like so many faithful adherents, who breathe a gallant resolution, either of de- fending their Lord to the last extremity, or of dropping honourably by his side. But did they give such proofs of zeal and fideli- ty in their conduct, as their steady posture, and determined aspect, seem to promise ? Alas ! what is all human firmness, when destitute of succours from above, but an expiring vapour ? What is every saint, if un- supported by powerful grace, but an aban- doned traitor ! Observe the glory delineat- ed in double rays, grand with imperial pur- ple, and rich with ajtherial blue. But, ah ! how incapable are threads, though spun by summer's finest hand, though dyed in snows, or dipped in heaven, to display the imma- culate excellency of his human, or the inef- fable majesty of his divine nature ! Com- pared with these sublime perfections, the most vivid assemblage of colours fades in- to an unmeaning flatness ; the most charm- ing efl^ects of light and shade are not only mere daubings, but an absolute blank. Among all the beauties which shine in sunny robes, and sip the silver dews, this, I think, has the noblest import, if not the finest presence. Were they all to pass in review, and expect the award of superiority from my decision, I shoidd not hesitate a moment. Be the prize assigned to this amiable candidate, wliich has so eminently distinguished, and so highly dignified her- self, by bearing such a remarkable resem- blance to the " righteous Branch, the Plant of renown."! While others appoint it a place in the parterre, I would transplant the passion flower, or rather transfer its sacred significancy to my heart. There let it bloom, both in summer and in winter j • Die, quibus in terris inscripti nomina regum Nascantur flores ? Virg. t " How beautiful are the feet of him that briug- eth good tidings, that publisheth peace, that bring- eth !;ood tidings of good, that publisheth salvation !" Isa.lii.?. * They took the reed, says the sacred historian, and smote him on the head; "and so, as it were, nailed down the thorns into his forehead and temples, and occasioned thereby exquisite pain, as well as a great effusion of blood." — Family Expositor, vol. ii. sect. 188. — "It is most probable," adds the same ju- dicious critic, " this was a walking-staff, which they put into his hand as a sceptre ; for a blow with a slight reed would scarce have been felt, or have deserved a mention in a detail of such dreadful sufferings." t The smart attending this unparalleled piece of contempt and barbarity, must be inexpressibly severe ; not only on account of the many painful punctures made in the flesh, but principally, because of the periosteum, an exquisitely sensible tegument of the bones, lying in those parts very near the external skin, must receive a multitude of terrible wounds, the anguish of which could not fail of being inflamed to an excess of rsge, by the continuance of so many thorny lancets, in that extremely tender membrane; which, in such a case, Trembling alive all o'er. Must smart and agonize at every pore. X So the blessed Jesus is described. Jer. xxiii. a Ezek. xxxiv. 25. REFLECTIONS ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. 49 bloom in the most impressive characters, and with an undecaying lustre. That I also may wear, — wear on my very soul, the traces of Immanuel, pierced for my sins, and bruised for my transgressions. That I al- so may be crucified with Christ, ( Gal. ii. 20.) at least in penitential remorse, and af- fectionate sympathy. That I may know the fellowship of his sufferings, (Phil. iii. 10.) and feel all my evil affections wounded by his agonies, mortified by his death. There is another subject of the verdant kingdom, wmch, on accomit of its very un- common qualities, demands my ])articular notice. One so extremely diffident in her disposition, and delicate in her constitution, that she dares not venture herself abroad in the open air, but is nursed up in the warmth of a hot-bed, and lives cloistered in the cells of a green-house. But the most cu- rious peculiarity is, that of all her kindred species, she alone partakes of perceptive life ; at least, advances nearest to this more ex- alted state of being, and may be looked up- on as the link which connects the animal and the vegetable world. A stranger ob- serving her motions, would almost be in- duced to suspect that she is endued with Bome inferior degrees of consciousness and caution : For, if you offer to handle this sensitive plant, she immediately takes the alarm, hastily contracts her fibres, and, like a person under apprehensions of violence, withdraws from your finger in a kind of precipitate disorder. Perhaps the beauty of her aspect might be sullied, or the luce- ness of her texture discomposed, by the human touch. Therefore, like a coy virgin, she recedes from all unbecoming familiari- ties, and will admit no such improper, if not pernicious freedoms. Whatever be the cause of this unusual effect, it suggests an instructive admonition to the Christian. Such shoidd be our ap- prehensive timorous care with regard to sin, and all, even the most distant approaches of vice. So should we avoid the very ap- peai-ance of evil, and stand aloof from every occasion of falling. If sinners entice, if forbidden pleasiu-es tempt, or if opportimi- ty beckon, \vith the gain of injustice in her hand, O ! turn from the gilded snare ; touch not the beauteous bane ; but fly, fly with haste, fly without any delay, from the be- witching ruin. Does anger draw near with her lighted torch, to kindle the flame of re- sentment in our breasts ? Does flattery ply our ears with her enchanting and intoxicat- ing whispers? would discontent lay her leaden hand upon our temper, and mould into our minds her sour leaven, in order to make us a burden to ourselves, and unami- able to others ? Instantly let us divert our attention from the dangerous objects ; and not so much endeavour to antidote as to shun the moral contagion. Let us revolve in our meditations that wonderful meekness of our distressed Master, which, amidst the most abusive and provoking insults, main- tained an uniform tenor of unshaken sereni- ty. Let us contemplate that prodigious humiliation, which brought him, from an in- finite height above all worlds, to make his bed in the dust of death. Let us soothe our jarring, our imeasy passions, with the remembrance of that cheerfulness and re- signation, which rendered him in the deep- est poverty, unfeignedly thankfid, and un- der the heaviest tribulations, most submis- sively patient. Harbour not, on any consideration, the betrayer of your virtue. Always maintain a holy sensibility of soul. Be deaf, inflex- ibly deaf, to eveiy beguiling solicitation. If it obtrude into the unguarded heart, give it no entertainment, no, not for a moment. To parley with the enemy, is to open a door for destruction. Our safety consists in flight ; and, in this case, suspicion is the truest prudence ; fear, the greatest bra- ver}'. Play not on the brink of the pre- cipice ; flutter not aromid the edges of the flame. Dally not with the stings of death. But reject, with a becoming mixture of so- licitude and abhorrence, the very first insin- uations of iniquity as cautiously as the smart- ing sore shrinks even from the softest hand, as constantly as this jealous plant recoils the approaching touch.* Not long ago, these curious productions of the spring were coarse and misshapen roots. Had we opened the earth, and be- held them in their seed, how uncouth and contemptible had their appearance been ! But now they are the boast of nature, the delights of the sons of men, finished pat- terns for enamelUng and embroidery, out- shining even the happiest strokes of the pencil. They are taught to bloom, but • The prophet Isaiah, in an elegant and lively de- scription of the upright man, says, " He shaketh his hands from holding of bribes i" and, I may add, from practising any kind of iniquity. The image, exceed- ingly beautiful and equally expressive, both illus- trates and enforces the doctrine of this whole section. — Shaketh his hands, just as a person would do, who happens to have burning coals fall into his lap, or some venomous creature fastening upon his flesh. In such a case, none would stand a moment to con- sider, or to debate with himself the expediency of the thine, he would instantly fling off the pernicious in- cumbrance, instantly endeavour to disengage him- self from the clinging mischief. Isa, xxxiii. 15. I have represented the danger ofnotextinguishing immediately the very first sparks of temptation, in a variety of views. Because a proper behaviour in this conjuncture, is of such vast importance to the puri- ty, the safety, and the comfort of our minds. Be- cause I had the royal moralist in my eye, who, deter- ring his pupils from the path of the wicked, cries with an air of deep concern, and in the language of vehe- ment importunity, cries. Avoid it ; pass not by it ; turn from it, and pass away. How strongly is the counsel urged, by being so frequently repeated, in such a remarkable diversity of concise and abrupt, consequently of forcible and pressing admonitions Prov. iv. 15. 30 REFLECTIONS ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. with a very inferior lustre,* in the richest tapestries and most magnificent silks. Art never attempts to equal their incomparable elegancies ; but places all her merit in copy- ing after these delicate originals. Even those who glitter in silver, or whose cloth- ing is wrought of gold, are desirous to bor- row additional ornaments from a sprig of jessamine, or a little assemblage of pinks. What a fine idea may we form from hence, of the resurrection of the just, and the state of their re-animated bodies ! As the roots even of our choicest flowers, when deposited in the ground, are rude and un- graceful ; but when they spring up into blooming life, are most elegant and splen- did ; so the flesh of a saint, when commit- ted to the dust, alas ! what is it ? A heap of corruption ; a mass of putrefying clay. But when it obeys the great arch-angel's call, and starts into a new existence, what an astonishing change ensues ! what a most ennobling improvement takes place ! That which was so^vn in weakness is raised in all the vivacity of power. That which was sown in deformity, is raised in the bloom of celestial beauty. Exalted, refined, and glorified, it will shine " as the brightness of the firmament," when it darts the inimi- table blue, through the fleeces, — the snowy fleeces, of some cleaving cloud. Fear not, then, thou faithful Christian ; fear not, at the appointed time, to descend into the tomb. Thy soid thou mayest trust with thy omnipotent Redeemer, who is Lord of the unseen world ; " who has the keys of hell and of death." Most safely thou mayest trust thy better part, in those bene- ficent hands, which were pierced with nails, and fastened to the ignominious tree, for thy salvation. With regard to thy earthly tabernacle be not dismayed : it is taken down only to be rebuilt upon a diviner plan, and in a more heavenly form. If it retires into the shadow of death, and lies immured in the gloom of the grave, it is only to re- turn from a short confinement to endless liberty. If it falls into dissolution, it is in order to rise more illustrious from its ruins ; and wear an infinitely brighter face of per- fection and of glory. f Having now made my panegyric, let me next take up a lamentation for these love- liest productions of the vegetable world. For I foresee their approaching doom : Yet a little while, and all these pleasing scenes • The cowslip smiles in brighter yellow drest, Than that which veils the nubil virgin's breast I A fairer red stands blushing in the rose. Than that which on the bridegroom's vestment flows. Prior. t The wise, the just, the pious, and the brave. Live in their deaths, and flourish from the grave, Grain hid in earth, repays the peasant's care, And ev'ning suns set but' to rise more fair vanish ; yet a little while, and all the sweets ofthe breathing, all the beauties of the bloom- ing spring are no more. Every one of these amiable forms must be shrivelled to deformity, and trodden to the earth — Sig- nificant resemblance this of all-created beauty. All flesh is grass ; like the green herbage liable and prone to fade. Nay, all the goodliness thereof, its fine accomplish- ments, and what the world universally ad- mires, is as the flower of the field, ( Isa. xl. 6. ) which looses its gloss, decays, and per- ishes more speedily than the grass itself. Be- hold, then, ye brightest among the daugh- ters of Eve; behold yourselves in this glass. See the charms of your Persian eclipsed, by the lustre of these little flow- ers, and the frailty of your state represent- ed by their transient glories.* A fever may scorch those polished veins 5 a con- sumption may emaciate the dimpling cheeks ; and a load of unexpected sorrows depress those lively spirits. Or, should these dis- asters, in pity, spare the tender frame ; yet age, inexorable age, and wrinkles will assur- edly come at last ; wiU wither all the fine features, and blast every sprightly grace. Then, ye fair, when those sparkling eyes are darkened, and sink in their orbs, when they are rolling in agonies, and swimming in death, — how will you sustain the aflSic- tion ? how will yoii repair the loss ? Ap- ply your thoughts to religion ; attend to the one thing needful. Believe in, and imitate the blessed Jesus ; then shall your souls mount up to the realms of happiness, when the well-proportioned clay is mingled wth its mean original. The light of God's countenance ^vill irradiate, with matchless and consummate perfection, all their exalt- ed faculties. Cleansed entirely from every dreg of conniption, like some unsullied • The reader will excuse me, if I imitate rather than translate the following lines from Theocritus ; if I vary one image, add another, and give a new turn to the whole. When snows descend, and robe the fields In winter's bright array ; Touch'd by the sun the lustre fades. And weeps itself away. When spring appears ; when violets blow. And shed a ncn perfume. How soon the fragrance breathes its last. How short-liv'd is the bloom ! Fresh in the mom the summer rose Hangs with'ring ere 'tis noon. We scarce enjoy the balmy gift, But mourn the pleasure gone. With gliding fire, an ev'ning star Streaks the autumnal skies. Shook from the sphere, it darts away. And in an instant dies. Such are the charms that flush the cheek. And sparkle in the eye; So, from that lovely finish'd form ■The transient graces fl y. To this the seasons, as they roll. Their attestations bring; They warn the fair ; their ev'ry round, Caufirms the truth I sing. REFLECTIONS or? A FLOWER-GARDEN. S] mirror, they will reflect the complete image of their Creator's holiness. O ! that you would thus dress your minds, and prepare for the immortal state ! Then from shining among your fellow-creatures on earth, you shall be translated, to shine around the throne of God. Then from the sweetness of our life, and the delight of our eyes here below, you shall pass, by an easy transition, into angels of light ; and become " an ever- lasting excellency, the joy of all genera- tions." Yes ; ye flowery nations ye must all decay. Yonder lily that looks like the queen of the gay creation ; see, how grace- fidly it erects its majestic head ! What an air of dignity and grandeur ennobles its aspect ! For elevated mien, as well as for incom- parable lustre, justly may it be preferred to the magnificent monarch of the east. ( Mat. vi. 29. ) But all stately, and charming as it is, it will hardly survive a few more days ; that unspotted whiteness must quickly be tarnished, and the snowy form defiled in the dust. As the lily pleases with the noble simpli- city of its appearance, the tulip is admired for the gaiety and multiplicity of its colours. What a profusion of dyes adorn its painted cup ! Its tinges are so glowing, its contrasts so strong, and the arrangement of them both so elegant and artful ! — It was lately the Bride of the border, and the reigning beauty of the delightfid season. As exquisitely fine as the rainbow, and almost as extreme- ly transient ; it spread for a little moment its glittering plumage, but has now laid all its variegated and superior honours down. Those radiant stripes are blended, alas ! rudely blended, with common mould. To a graceful shape and blooming com- plexion, the rose adds the most agreeable perfume. Our nostrils make it repeated visits, and are never weary of drinking in its sweets. A fragrance so peculiarly rich and reviving transpires from its opening tufts, that every one covets its acquaintance. How have I seen even the accomplished Clarissa, for whom so many votaries lan- guish, fondly caressing this little flower. That lovely bosom, which is the seat of in- nocence and virtue ; whose least excellency it is to rival the delicacy of the purest snows, among a thousand charms of its o-wn, thinks it possible to adopt another from the da- mask rose-bud Yet even this universal favourite must fail. Its native balm can- not preserve it from putrefaction. Soon, soon must it resign all those endearing qua- lities, and hang neglected on its stem, or drop despised to the ground. One could wish, methinks, these most amiable of the inanimate race, a longer ex- istence, but in vain, they fade almost as soon as they flourish ; within less than a month their glories are extinct. Let the sun take a few more journeys through the sky ; then visit this enchanting walk, and you will find nothing but a ^vretched wilderness of ragged or naked stalks But (my soul exults in the thought) the garment of celestial glory which shall ere long array the re-animated body, will never wax old, the illustrious robes of a Saviom's consummate righteous- ness, which are appointed to deck the justi- fied spirit, are incorruptible and immortal. No moth can corrode their texture, no num- ber of ages sully their brightness. The light of day may be quenched, and all the stars sink in obscurity ; but the honours of "just men made perfect" are subject to no diminution, inextinguishing and unfading is the lustre of their cro\vii. Yes, ye flowery nations, j'e must all de- cay.— Winter, like some enraged and irre- sistible conqueror, that carries fire and sword wherever he advances, that demolish- es towTis, depopulates countries, spreads slaughter and desolation on every side ; so, just so, vnR Winter with his savage and un- relenting blasts invade this beautiful pros- pect. The storms are gathering, and the tempest mustering their rage to fall upon the vegetable kingdoms. They will ravage tlirough the dominions of nature, and plun- der her riches and lay waste her charms. — Then ye trees, must ye stand stript of your verdant apparel ; and ye fields be spoiled of your waving treasures. Then the earth, disrobed of all her gay attire, must sit in sa- bles, like a disconsolate widow. The sun too, who now rides in triumph round the world, and scatters gaiety from his radiant eye, will then look faintly from the windows of the South ; and, casting a short glance on our dejected world, will leave us to the un- comfortable gloom of tedious nights — Then these pretty choristers of the air will chant no more to the gentle gales ; the lark, the linnet, and all the feathered songsters aban- don their notes, and indulge their woes. The harmony of the woods is at an end ; and silence, (unless it be interrupted by howling winds) sullen silence sits brooding upon the boughs which are now made vocal by a thousand tvarbling throats. But (sweet recollection ! ravishing ex- pectation !) the songs of saints in light ne- ver admit a pause for sadness. All heaven will resound with the melody of their grati- tude ; and all eternity echo to their trium- phal acclamations. The hallelujahs of that world, and the harmonious joy of its inhabi- tants, Avill be as lasting as the divine per- fections they celebrate — Come then, holy love, and tune my heart, descend, celestial fire, and touch my tongue, that I may stand ready to strike up and bear my part, in that great hosanna, that everlasting hymn. Yes, yes, ye flowery nations, ye must all decay. And, indeed, could you add the 52 REFLECTIONS ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. strength of an oak, or the etability of a pyra- mid,* to all the delicacy of your texture ; yet short, exceeding short, even then, would your duration be. For I see that all things come to an end. The pillars of nature are tottering ; the foimdations of the round world are falling away ; the " heavens themselves wax old like a garment." But, amidst these views of general ruin, here is our refuge ; this is our consolation ; we know that our Redeemer liveth. Thy years, blessed Jesus, shall not fail. From everlasting to everlasting, thou art still the same ; the same most excellent and adora- ble person ; the same omnipotent and faith- ful friend, the same all-sufficient and in- estimable portion. O ! may we but partake of thy merits, be sanctified by thy grace, and received into thy glory ! Then, perish if ye will, all inferior delights. Let all that is splendid in the skies expire, and all that is amiable in nature be expimged. Let the whole extent of creation be turned again into one indistinguishable void, one universal blank. Yet, if God be ours, we shall have enough ; if God be ours, we shall have all and abound ;f all that our circumstances can want, or oiu* wishes crave, to make us inconceivably blessed and happy : blessed and happy not only through this little inter- val of time, but through the unmeasurable revolutions of eternity. The sun is now come forth in his strength, and beats fiercely upon my throbbing pulse. Let me retire to yonder inviting arbour. There the woodbine retains the lucid drop ; there the jessamines, which line the ver- dant alcove, are still impearled, and deli- ciously wet vidth dews. Welcome, ye re- freshing shades ! I feel, I feel your cheering influence. My languid spirits revive ; the slackened sinews are new strung ; and life bounds brisker through all her crimson channels. Reclined on this mossy couch, and sur- rounded by this fragrant coolness, let me renew my aspirations to the ever-present • I know not any performance, in which the tran sitory nature of these most durable monuments of human grandeur, is hinted with such a modest air of instruction, or tlieir hideous ruin described in such a pomp of pleasing horror, as in a small but solemn picturesque and majestic poem, entitled. The Ruins of Rome, written by the Rev. Air. Dyer, whom the reader (if he has the pleasure of perusing that beau- tiful piece) will easily perceive to have taken his draughts from the originals themselves, as nothing but tne sifjht of those magnificent remains could have inspired his lines with such vivacity. As a specimen of the work, and a confirmation of the remark sug- gested above take leave to transcribe the following passage :-• ' — ■ The pilgrim oft. At dead of night, 'mid his orison hears Aghast the voice of time-disparting tow'rj. Tumbling all precipitate down dash'd. Rattling around, loud thundering to the moon. t Hi« and the good man fastens on the skies. And bids earth roll, nor feels the idle whirl. Night Thoughts, No. iv. Deity. Here let me remember, and imi- tate, the pious Augustine, and his mother Monica ; who, being engaged in discourse on the beauties of the visible creation, rose by these ladders to the glories of the invisible state, tiU they were inspired with the most affecting sense of their supereminent excel- lency, and actuated with the most ardent breathings after their full enjoyment. In- somuch that they were almost wrapt up into the bliss they contemplated ; and scarce " knew whether they were in the body or out of the body." When tempests toss the ocean, when plaintive signals of distress are heard from the bellowing deep, and melancholy tokens of shipwreck come floating on the foaming surge ; then how delightful to stand safe on shore, and hug one's self in conscious secu- rity !* "Wlien a glut of waters biu-st from some mighty torrent, rushes headlong over all the neighbouring plains, sweeps away the helpless cattle, and drives the aflfrighted shepherd from his hut ; then, from the top of a distant eminence, to descry the danger we need not fear : how pleasing ! Such, methinks, is my present situation. For now, the sun blazes from on high ; the air glows with his fire, the fields are rent with chinks; the roads are scorched to dust ; the woods seem to contract a sickly aspect, and a russet hue ; the traveller, broil- ed as he rides, hastens to his inn, and in- termits his journey ; the labourer, bathed in sweat, drops the scythe, and desists from his work ; the cattle fly to some shady co- vert, or else pant and toss under the biuni- ing noon. Even the stubborn rock, smit with the piercing beams, is ready to cleave. All things languish beneath the dazzling deluge. While I shall enjoy a cool hour, and calm reflection amidst the gloom of this bowery recess which scarce admits one speck of simshiiie. Thus may both the flock and their shep- herd, dwell beneath the defence of the Most High, and abide under the shadow of the Almighty. (Psal. xci. 1.) Then, though the pestilencef walketh in darkness, and the sickness destroyeth at noon-day ; though thousands fall beside us, and ten thousands at our right hand, we need fear no evil ; either the destroying angel shall pass over our houses, or else he shall dispense the corrections of a friend, not the scoiu-ges of an enemy, which, instead of hiu-ting ns. • As Lucretius gave the hint for these observa- tions, so he assigns the reason of the pleasure speci- fied. It arises, not from the consideration of another's misery ; this would argue the rankest malevolence; but from the agreeable contemplation of our own personal safety, which while we view the circum- stances that are pernicious to others, but harmless to ourselves, is not a little heightened by the contrast. — Suave mari magno, &c. t This was written when a very infectious and mor- tal distemper raged in the neighbourhood. REFLECTIONS ON A FLOWER-GARDEN. 53 shall work for oiir good — Then, though profaneness and infidelity, far more malig- nant evils, breathe deadly contagion, and taints the morals of multitudes around us ; yet if the great Father of spirits hide us in the hollow of his hand, we shall hold fast our integrity and be faithful unto death. Let then, dearest Lord, O let thy servant, and the people committed to his care, be re- ceived into thy protection. Let us take sanctuary under that tree of life, erected in thy ignominious cross ; let us fly for safety to that City of Refuge, opened in thy bleeding wounds. These shall be a sacred hiding-place, not to be pierced by the flames of di\nne wrath, or the fiery darts of temp- tation. Thy dying merits and perfect obe- dience, shall be to our souls as rivers of wa- ter in a dry place, or as the shadow of a great rock in a weary land. ( Isa. xxxii. 2. ) But most of all, in that last tremendous day, when the heavens are rent asunder and wrapt up like a scroll ; when thy almighty arm shall arrest the sun in his career, and dash to pieces the structure of the uni- verse ; when the dead, both small and great, shall be gathered before the throne of thy glory ; and the fates of all mankind hang on the very point of a final irreversible de- cision— then, blessed Jesus, let us be own- ed by thee, and we shall not be ashamed : defended by thee, and we shall not be afraid. O may we, at that awful and unutterable important jimcture, be covered with the wings of thy redeeming love ; and we shall behold all the horrible convidsions of ex- piring nature with composure, with com- fort ! We shall even welcome the dissolu- tion of all things, as the times of refreshing from the presence of the Lord. (Acts iii. 19.) There are, I perceive, who still attend the flowers ; and in defiance of the sun, ply their work on every expanded blossom. The bees I mean, that nation of chemists ! to whom nature has communicated the rare and valuable secret, of enriching themselves without impoverishing others ; who extract the most delicious syrup from every fragrant herb, without wounding its substance, or di- minishing its odom-s — I take the more no- tice of these ingenious operators, because I would willingly make them my pattern.* While the gay butterfly flutters her painted wings, and sips a little fantastic delight on- ly for the present moment ; while the gloomy spider, worse than idly busied, is preparing his insidious nets for destmction, or sucking venom even from the most wholesome plants ; this frugal community • Ego apis fnatinae More raodoque Grata carpentie thyma.— Hor. are wisely employed in providing for futur- ity, and collecting a copious stock of the most balmy treasures And oh ! might these meditations sink into my soiU ! would the God who suggested each heaven- ly thought, vouchsafe to convert it into an established principle to determine all my in- clinations and regulate my whole conduct ! I should then gather advantages from the same blooming objects, more precious than yoiu- golden stores, ye industrious artists, I also should go home laden with the richest sweets and the noblest spoil, though I crop not a leaf nor call a single flower my own. Here I behold assembled in one view, al- most all the various beauties, which have been severally entertaining my imagination . The vistas struck through an ancient wood, or formed by rows of venerable elms, con- ducting the spectator's observation to some remarkable object, or leading the traveller's footsteps to this delightful seat. — The walls enriched with fruit trees, and faced with a covering of their leafy extensions, I should rather have said, hung mth different pieces of nature's noblest tapestry : — The walks neatly shorn, and lined -with verdure, or finely smoothed and coated with gravel : — The alleys arched with shades to embower our noon-tide repose, or thrown open for the free accession of air, to invite us to oiur evening recreation : — The decent edgings of box, which inclose like a plain selvage each beautiful compartment, and its splen- did figures : — The shapely evergreens and flowery shrubs which strike the eye, and ap- pear with peculiar dignity in this distant si- tuation : — The bason with its crystal fount, floating in the centre, and difliising an agree- able freshness through the whole : — The waters falling from a remote cascade, and gently murmuring as they flow along the pebbles : — These added to the rest, and all so disposed that each recommends and en- dears each, renders the whole a most sweet ravishing scene, of order and variety, of ele- gance and magnificence. From so many lovely prospects cluster- ing upon the sight, it is impossible not to be reminded of heaven; that world of bliss, those regions of light, where the Lamli that was slain, manifests his beatific presence, and his saints live for evermore. But, O ! what pencil can sketch out a draught of that goodly land ! what colours or what style can express the splendours of Immanuel's king- dom ? Would some celestial hand draw aside the veil but for a moment, and permit us to throw a single glance on those divine abodes, how would all sublunary possessions become tarnished in our eyes, and grow flat upon our taste ? A glimpse, a transient glimpse of those unutterable beatitudes, would cap- tivate our souls, and ingross all their facul- ties, Eden itself, after such a vision, would 54 A DESCANT UPON CREATION. appear a cheerless desert, and all earthly charms, intolerable deformity. Very excellent things are spoken of thee, thou city of God. ( Psalm Ixxxvii. 2. ) Vol- umes have been written, and those by in- spired men, to display the wonders of thy perfections. All that is rich and splendid in the visible creation, has been called in to aid our conceptions and elevate our ideas. But indeed no tongue can utter, no pen can describe, no fancy can imagine, what God of his unbounded munificence, has prepar- ed for them that love him Seeing then, that all terrestrial things must come to a speedy end, and there remaineth a rest, such a blissful and everlasting rest for the people of God, let me never be too fondly attached to my present satisfactions. Weaned from whatever is temporal, may I maintain a superior indifference for such transitory enjoyments, but long, long ear- nestly for the mansions that are above ; the paradise " whicli the Lord hath planted and not man." Thither may I transmit the chief of my conversation, and from tbence expect the whole of my happiness. Be that the sacred powerful magnet, which ever influences my heart, ever attracts my affections. There are such transcendent glories, as eye has not seen ; there are such transporting pleasures, as ear has not heard ; there is such a fulness of joys, as the thought of man cannot conceive. Into that consummate felicity, those eter- nal fruitions, permit me. Madam, to wish you in due time, an abundant entrance ; and to assure you that this wish is breathed with the same sincerity and ardour, for my hon- oured correspondent, as it is Madam, for Your most obedient, &c. J. HERVEY. DESCANT CREATION. If the reader please to look back on page ' 42, he will find me engaged by a promis- sory note, to subjoin a Descant upon Crea- tion. To know the love of Christ, to have such a deep apprehension of his unspeakable kindness as may produce in our hearts an adoring gratitude and an unfeigned faith ; this, according to St. Paul's estimate, is the highest and happiest attainment in the sa- cred science of Christianity. (Eph. iii. 19.) What follows is an attempt to assist the attentive mind, in learning a line or two of that best and greatest lesson. It introduces the most conspicuous parts of the visible sys- tem, as so many pronr^pters to our dull af- fections ; each suggesting a hint adapted to the important occasion, and suited to its re- spective character. Can there be a more powerful incentive to devout gratitude, than to consider the magnificent and delicate scenes of the uni- i-erse, with a particular reference to Christ as the Creator ? — Every object \'ie\yed in this light, mil surely administer incessant recruits to the languishing lamp of divine love. Every production in nature wiU strike a spark into the soul, and the whole creation concur to raise the smoking flax into a flame. Can any thing impart a stronger joy to the believer, or more effectually confirm his faith in the crucified Jesus, than to behold the heavens declaring his glory, and the fir- mament showing his handy-work ? Surely, it must be matter of inexpressible consola- tion to the poor sinner to observe the hon- ours of his Redeemer, written with sun- beams over all the face of the world. We delight to read an account of our in- carnate Jehovah, as he is revealed in the book of Moses and the prophets, as he is displayed in the writings of the evangelists and apostles. Let us also endeavour to see a sketch of his perfections as they stand de- lineated in that stately volume, where every leaf is a spacious plain, — every line, a flow- ing brook, — every period, a lofty mountain. A DESCANT UPON CREATION. 55 Should any of my readers be unexercised in such speculations, I beg leave (in pur- suance of my promise) to present them with a specimen ; or to offer a clue, which may possibly lead their minds into this most im- proving and delightful train of thinking. Should any be inclined to suspect the so- lidity of the following observations, or to condemn them, as the voice of rant, and the lawless flight of fancy ; I must entreat such persons to recollect that the grand doctrine, the hinge on which they aU tiun, is war- ranted and established by the unanimous testimony of the inspired penmen, who fre- quently celebrate Lnmanuel, or Christ Je- sus as the great almighty cause of all, as- suring us, that all things were created by him and for him, and that in him all things consist.* On such a subject, what is wonderful, is far from being extravagant. To be won- derful is the inseparable characteristic of God and his works ; especially of that most distinguished and glorious event of the di- vine works. Redemption ; so glorious, that " aU the miracles in Egypt, and the mar- vellous acts in the field of Zoan," all that the Jewish annals have recorded, or the hu- man ear has heard ; all dwindle into trivial events, are scarce worthy to be remembered in comparison of this infinitely grand and infinitely gracious transaction. (Isa. xliii. 18.) ICindled therefore into pleasing aston- ishment by such a siurvey, let me give full scope to my meditations, let me pour out my whole soul on the boundless subject ; not much regarding the limits, which cold criticism, or colder unbelief might pre- scribe. O ye angels that surroimd the throne ; ye princes of heaven, " that excel in strength," and are clothed with transcendent brightness ; he, who placed you in those stations of exalted honour, and dignified your nature with such illustrious endow- ments ; he, whom you all obey, and all adore ; he took not on him the angelic form, but was made flesh, and found in fashion as a man ; like us wretched mortals, he par- took of weariness, of pain, and of all our infirmities, sin only excepted ; that we might one day be raised to yoiu: sublime abodes, be adopted into your blissfid socie- ty : and join with your transported choir in giving glory to Him that sitteth upon the throne, and to the Lamb for ever and ever. (Rev. V. 13.) O ye heavens ! whose azure arches rise immensely high, and stretch immeasurably wide ; stupendous amphitheatre ! amidst * Col. i. 16, 17. Before my reader enter upon the following Descant he is desired to puruse the note, P. 41. whose vast expansive circuit, orbs of the most dreadfid grandeur are perpetually run- ning their amazing races ; unfathomable depths of ether ! where worlds unnumber- ed float, and to our limited sight, worlds unnumbered are lost ; — he who adjusted your dimensions with his span, and formed the magnificent structure with his word ; he was once wrapt up in swaddling clothes, and laid in a manger ; — that the benefits accruing to his people through his most meritorious humiliation, might have no other measure of their value than immensi- ty, might run parallel in their duration with eternity. Ye stars ! that beam with inextinguishable brilliancy through the midnight-sky; oceans of flames and centres of worlds, through seemingly little points of light ! — he who shone with essential effulgence, innumera- ble ages before your twinkling tapers were kindled ; and wiU shine with everlasting ma- jesty and beauty, when your places in the firmament shall be known no more ; He was involved for many years in the deepest ob- scurity, lay concealed in the contemptible city Kazareth, lay disguised under the mean habit of a carpenter's son ; — that he might plant the heavens, (Isa. li. 16.) as it were, with new constellations, and array these clods of earth, these houses of clay, with a radiancy far superior to yours, a radiancy which wall adorn the very heaven of heavens, when you shall vanish away like smoke,* or expire as momentary sparks from the smit- ten steel. Comets ! that sometimes shoot into the illimitable tracts of ether, farther than the discernment of our eye is able to follow, sometimes return from the long, long ex- cursion, and sweep oiu- affrighted hemis- phere \vith your enormous fiery train ; that sometimes make near approaches to the sun, and bum almost in his immediate beams ; sometimes retire to the remotest distance, and freeze for ages in the exces- sive rigours of winter ; — he, who at his so- vereign pleasure withdraws the blazing won- der, or leads forth the portentous stranger, to shake terror over guilty kingdoms ; — he was overwhelmed with the most shocking amazement, and plimged into the deepest anxiety ; was chilled with apprehensions of fear, and scorched by the flames of avenging * AUuding to a passage in Isaiah, which is I think grand and elevated beyond all comparison, — " Lift up your eyes to the heavens, and look upon the earth beneath ; for the heavens shall vanish away like smoke, and the earth shall wax old like a garment ; and they that dwell theiein shall die like the feeble insect ; but my righteousness shall be for ever, and my salvation shall not be abolished." Isa. ii. 6. — With the great Vitringa, I translate the words not in like manner, but like the feeble insect, which renders the period more complete, the sense more emphatical, and is more agreeable to the genius of the sacred ori- ginal. 56 A DESCANT UPON CREATION. wrath ; — that I, and other depraved rebel- lious creatures, might not be eternally agi- tated with the extremes of jarring passions, opposite, yet on either side tormenting, far more tormenting to the soul than the sever- est degrees of your heat and cold to the hu- man sense. Ye planets ! that, winged with unimagina- ble speed, traverse the regions of the sky, sometimes climbing millions and millions of miles above, sometimes descending as far below the great axle of your motions ; ye, that are so minutely faithful to the vicissi- tudes of day and night, so exactly punctual in bringing on the changes of your respective seasons ; — he, who launched you at first from his mighty arm ; who continually impels you with such wonderful rapidity, and guides you with such perfect regularity ; who fixes " the habitation of his holiness and his glo- ry," infinite heights above your scanty rounds ; he once became a helpless infant, sojourned in our inferior world, fled from the persecutor's sword, and wandered as a vagabond in a foreign land ; that he might lead our feet into the way of peace: that he might bring us aliens near to God ; bring us exiles home to heaven. Thou sun ! inexhaustible source of light, and heat, and comfort ; without whose pre- sence an universal gloom would ensue, and horror insupportable ; who, without the as- sistance of any other fire, sheddest day through a thousand realms ; and not con- fining thy munificence to realms only, ex- tendest thy enlightening influences to sur- rounding worlds ; prime cheerer of the ani- mal, and great enlivener of the vegetable tribes ; so beautiful in thyself, so beneficial in thy effects, that erring heathens address- ed thee with adorations, and mistook thee for thy IMaker ; — he, who filled thy orb with a profusion of lustre, lustre in its di- rect emanations, insufferably bright, but re- bated by reflection, delightfully mild ; he before whom thy meridian splendours are but a shade ; whose love transfused into the heart, is infinitely more exhiliu-ating, than even thy sweet and clear shining after the rain ; — he divested himself of his all-tran- scending distinctions, and drew a veil over the effulgence of his divinity ; that by speaking to us face to face, as a man speak- eth unto his friend, he might dispel our in- tellectual darkness ; " his visage was mar- red," (Isa. lii. 14.) and he became the scorn of men, the outcast of the people, that by this manifestation of his unuttera- bly tender regard for our welfare, he might diffuse many a gleam of joy through our de- jected minds ; that in another state of things, he might clothe even our fallen na- ture with the honours of that magnificent luminary ; and give all the righteous to shine forth as the sun, in the kingdom of their FaUuif, Thou moon ! that walkest among the host of stars, and in thy lucid appearance, art superior to them all : fair rider of the night ! sometimes half restoring the day with thy waxing brightness ; sometimes waning into dimness, and scarcely scattering the nocturnal gloom ; sometimes covered with sackcloth, and alarming the gazing nations ; — he, who dresses thy opaque globe in beaming, but borrowed silver ; he whose dignity is unchangeable, underived, and all his own, he vouchsafed to wear a body of clay; he was content to appear as in a bloody eclipse, shorn of his resplendent beams, and surrounded with a night of hor- ror, which knew not one reviving ray.— Thus has he empowered his church, and a^ believers, to tread the moon under their feet ; (Rev. xii. I.) hence inspired with the hope of brighter glory, and of more enduring bliss, are they enabled to triumph over all the vain anxieties and vainer amusements, of this sublunary, precarious, mutable world. Ye thunders ! that, awfully grvunbling in the distant clouds, seem to meditate indig- nation, and form the first essays of a far more frightful peal ; or, suddenly bursting over our heads, rend the vault above, and shake the ground below, wth the hi- deous horrid crash ; ye that send your tre- mendous vollies from pole to pole, startling the savage herds, (Psalm xxix. 8.) and as- tonishing the human race ; — he, who per- mits terror to soimd her trumpet, in your deep, prolonged, enlarging, aggravated roar ; he uttered a feeble infantile cry in the stable, and strong expiring groans on the accursed tree, — that he might, in the gen- tlest accent, whisper peace to our souls, and at length tune our voices to the melody of heaven. O ye lightnings ! that brood and lie couchant in the sulphurous vapours, that glance \vith forked fury from the angry gloom, swifter and fiercer than the lion rushes from his den, or open into vast ex- pansive sheets of flame, sublimely waved over the prostrate world, and fearfully lin- gering in the frighted skies ; ye that for- merly laid in ashes the licentious abodes of lust and violence, that MiU ere long set on fire the elements, and co-operate in the con- flagration of the globe; he who kindles your flash, and directs you when to sally, and where to strike ; he who commissions your whirling bolts, whom to kill and whom to spare ; he resigned his sacred person to the most barbarous indignities ; submitted his beneficent hands to the pon- derous hammer, and the piercing nail ; yea, withheld not his heart, his very heart, from the stab of the executioner's spear ; and in- stead of flashing confusion on his outrageous tormentors ; instead of strikuig them dead to the earth, or plunging them into the depths of hell with his frown ; he cried — in A DBSCANT UPON CREATION. 57 his laet moments, and with his agonizing lips, he cried — " Father forgive them, for they Imow not what they do !" O ! what a pattern of patience for his saints ! "VVTiat an object of admiration for angels ! What a constellation of every mild, amiable, and benign virtue, shining in this hour of dark- ness, with ineflable splendour and beauty !* Hence, hence it is, that we are not trem- bling under the lightnings of mount Sinai ; that we are not blasted by the flames of di- vine vengeance, or doomed to dwell with everlasting burnings. Ye froNVTiing wintry clouds ! oceans pen- dant in the air, and burdening the winds ; he in whose hand you are an overflowing scourge ; or, by whose appointment, an ar- senalf of warlike stores ; he who opens your sluices, and a flood gushes forth to de- stroy the fruits of the earth, and drown the husbandman's hopes ; who mould you in- to frozen balls, and you are sho^ linked mth death,| on the troops of his enemies ; * One can hardly forbear animadverting upon the disingenuous temper, and perverse taste of Celsus, who attempts to turn this most distinguishing and ornamental part of our Lord's life, into ridicule and reproach.— Having spoken of Christ as despitefuUy used, and arraved in a purple robe, crowned with thorns, and holding, by way of mock majesty, a reed instead of a sceptre (for he enters into all these cir- cumstances, which is a testimony to the truth even from the mouth of an enemy;) he adds, "Why in thenaraeof wonder, does he not, on this occasion at least, act the God ? Why does he not deliver himself from this shocking ignominy, or execute some signal vengeance on the authors of such injurious and abu- sive insults, bothof himself and his Father ?"— Why, Celsus, because he was meekness and gentleness it- self; whereas your deities were slaves to their own turbulent and resentful passions ; because they were little better than savages in human shape, who too often made a merit ot slaughter, and took a horrid pride in spilling blood : while Christ was the Prince of Peace, and came not to destroy men's lives, but to save: because any madman on earth, or fury from hell, is capable of venting his rage; but who amidst such unsufferable provocations and barbarities ; who, having in his own hand the power to rescue himself, the power to avenge himself, could submit to all with an unruffled serenity of patience, and not only not be exasperated, but overcome in so triumphant a manner, evil with good ? None but Christ ! None but Christ ! This was compassion worthy of a God, clemency and charity truly divine ! Therefore the calumny raised by the same virulent objector, in another place, carries its own confutation, or rather falls with a weight of infamy on his dung- hill deities, while it bears a most honourable testimo- ny to the majestic and invincible meekness of our Saviour. Says he to the Christian, ibid. p. 404. " You indeed take upon you to deride the images of our deities, but if Bacchus himself, or Hercules, had been present, you would not have dared to offer such an affront ; or if you had been so presumptuous, would have severely smarted for your insolence; whereas, they who tormented the very person of your God, and even extended him with mortal agony on the cross, suffered no effects of his displeasure." t Juvenal seems to consider the clouds under the same character, in that beautiful line : Quicquid habent telorum armamentaria coeli. — Sat. 13. ± Job has informed us for what purpose the maga- zines of the firmament are stocked with hail. — That they may be ready against the day of battle and war, Jobxxxviii. 23. Joshua has recorded what terrible slaughter has been made by these missile weapons of theAUnighty, Josh. x. 11.— But the most dreadful deecription of this great ordnance of the heavens, is He, instead of discharging the furiousness of his ^vrath upon his guilty head, poured out his prayers, poured out his sighs, pour- ed out his very soul, for me and my fellow transgressors, that by virtue of his inesti- mable propitiation, the overflowings of di- vine good wiU might be extended to sinful men : that the skies might pour down righ- teousness, and peace on her do^\^ly wings, peace with her balmy blessings, descend to dwell on earth. Ye vernal clouds ! furls of finer air, folds of softer moisture, he who draws you in co- pious exhalations from the briny deep, or- ders you to leave every distastefid quality behind, and become floating fountains of sweetest waters ; he who dissolves you in- to gentle rain, and dismisses you in fruit- ful showers, who kindly commissions you to drop down fatness as you fall, and to scatter flowers over the field : He, in the unutterable bitterness of his spirit, was with- out any comforting sense of his almighty Father's presence ; he, when his bones were burnt up like a fire-brand, had not one drop of that sacred consolation, which on many of his aflBicted servants, has been distUled as the evening dews, and has " given songs in the night" of distress: — that, from this unallayed and inconsolable anguish of our all-gracious master, we, as from a weU of salvation, might derive large draughts of spiritual refreshment. Thou grand etherial bow ! whose beau- ties flush the firmament, and charm every spectator ; he, who paints thee on the fluid skirts of the sky, who decks thee with all the pride of colours, and bends thee into that graceful and majestic figiu-e, at whose command thy vivid streaks sweetly rise, or swiftly fade : — He, through all his life, was arrayed in the humble garb of poverty ; and, at his exit, wore the gorgeous garment of con- tempt , insomuch, that even his own familiar friends, ashamed or afraid to own him, " hid, as it were, their faces from him "• to teach us a becoming disdain for the unsubstantial and transitory glitter of all worldly vani- ties ; to introduce us, in robes brighter than the tinges of thy resplendent arch, even in the robes of his own immaculate righteous- ness, to introduce us before that august and venerable throne, which the peaceful rain- bow surrounds, surrounds as a pledge of in- violable fidelity and infinite mercy. Ye storms and tempests ! which vex the continent, and toss the seas, which dash given us in Rev. xvi. 21. There fell upon men a great hail out of heaven, every stone about the weight of a talent. * Isa. liii. 3. " Fuit tanquam aliquis, a quo quisque faciem occultaret." He was as some flagitious and abandoned wretch, from whom every one, disdaining such a character, and disclaiming such an acquaint- ance, studiously hid his face. 59 A X>ESCANT UPON CREATION. navies on the rocks, and drive forests from their roots ; he whose breath rouses you into such resistless fury, and whose nod controls you in your wildest career ; he, who holds the rapid and raging hurricane in straitened reins, and walks, dreadfully serene, on the very wings of the wind : He went, all meek and gentle, like a lamb to the slaughter for us ; atid, as a sheep be- fore her shearers is dumb, so he opened not his mouth Thus are we instructed to bear, with decent magnanimity, the various assaults of adversity, and to pass with a becoming tranquillity of temper, through all the rude blasts of injurious treatment. Thus are we delivered from the unutter- able fiercer storms of incensed and inexor- able justice ; from the " fire, the brimstone, and the horrible tempest, which vdW. be the final portion of the ungodly." Thou pestilence ! that scatterest ten thousand poisons from thy baleful wings ; tainting the air, and infecting the nations ; under whose malignant influence, joy is blasted, and nature sickens ; mighty regions are depopidated, and once crowded cities are left without inhabitants. — He, who arms thee mth inevitable destruction, and bids thee march before his angry counte- nance,* to spread desolation among the tents of the wicked, and be the forerunner of far more fearful indignation : He, in his holy humanity, was arraigned as a criminal ; and though innocence itself, yea, the very pat- tern of perfection, was condemned to die, like the most execrable miscreant ; as a nuisance to society, and the very bane of the public happiness, he was hurried away to execution, and hammered to the gibbet ; — that, by his blood, he might prepare a sovereign medicine to cure us of a more fa- tal distemper, than the pestilence which walketh in darkness, or the sickness which destroyeth at noon-day ; that he might himself say to our last enemy, " O death, I will be thy plague ; O grave, I will be thy destruction." (Hos. xiii. 14.) Heat ! whose bm'uing influence parches the Lybian wilds ; tans into soot the Ethi- opian's complexion, and makes every species of life pant, and droop, and languish ; cold, whose icy breath glazes yearly the Russian seas, often glues the frozen sailor to the cordage, and stiffens tlie traveller into a statue of rigid flesh : He who sometimes blends you both, and produces the most agreeable temperature, sometimes suffers you to act separately, and rage with intol- erable severity ; that King of heaven, and controller of universal nature, when dwell- ing in a tjibernacle of clay, was exposed t© chilling damps, and smitten by sultry • Before him went the pestilence, Hab. iii. 5. beams ; the stars, in their Ihidnight watch- es, heard him pray ; and the sun in his meridian fervours saw him toil. Hence are our frozen hearts dissolved into a min- gled flow of wonder, love, and joy ; being conscious of a deliverance from those in- sufferable flames, which, kindled by divine indignation, biu-n to the lowest hell. Thou ocean, vast world of waters ! He, who sunk that capacious bed for thy recep- tion, and poured the liquid element into un- fathomable channels ; before whom, all thy foaming billows, and floating mountains, are as the small drop of a bucket ; who, by the least intimation of his will swells thy fluid kingdoms in wild confusion, to mingle with the clouds ; or reduces them in calm com- posiu-e to slumber on the shore ; he, who once gave thee a warrant to overwhelm the whole earth, and bury all its degenerate in- habitants in a watery grave ; but has now laid an everlasting embargo on thy boister- ous waves, and boimd thee, all fierce and madding as thou art, in chains stronger than adamant, yet formed of despicable sand: and all the waves of vengeance and wrath, of tribulation and anguish, passed over Hia crucified body, and his agonizing soul ; that we might emerge from those depths of mis- ery, from that abyss of guilt, into which we were plunged by Adam's fall, and more irretrievably sunk by our own transgressions ; that at the last, we might be restored to that happy world, which is represented, in the vision of God, as having " no sea," ( Rev. xxi. 1.) to denote its perpetual stability, and undisturbed serenity. Ye mountains ! that overlook the clouds, and project a shade into distant provinces ; everlasting pyramids of nature, not to be shaken by conflicting elements ; not to be shattered by the bolts of thunder, nor im- ))aired even by the ravages of time ; he, who bid your ridges rise high, and your founda- tion stand so fast ; he, in whose scale you are lighter than dust ; in whose eyes you are less than nothing; — He sunk beneath a load of woes — woes unsupportable, but not his own ; when he took our iniquities upon himself, and heaved the more than mountainous burden from a guilty world. Ye verdant woods ! that cro\\Ti our hills, and are crowned yourselves with leafy hon- ours ; ye humble shrubs, adorned in spring with opening blossoms ; and fanned in summer by gentle gales ; ye that in distant climes, or in cultivated gardens, breathe out spicy odours, and embalm the air with de- lightful perfumes. He — yoiu- all-glorious and ever-blessed Creator's head, was encir- cled with the thorny wreath, his face was defiled with contumelious spitting, and his body bathed in a bloody sweat, that we might wear the crown — the crown of glory which fadeth not away, and live for ever- A DESCANT UPON CREATION. 5d more eurrounded with delights as much sur- passing yours, as yours exceed the rugged desolations of winter. Thou mantling vine ! He, who hangs on thy slender shoots, the rich, transparent, weighty cluster ; who, under thy unorna- mented foliage, and amidst the pores of thy otherwise worthless boughs, prepares the liquor, — the refined and exalted liquor, which cheers the nations, and fills the cup of joy; trees, whose branches are elevated and waving in air ; or diffused, in easy con- finement, along a sunny wall : He, who bends you with a lovely burden of delicious fruits, whose genial warmth beautifies their rind, and mellows their taste; — He, when voluntarily subject to our wants, instead of being refreshed with your generous juices, or regaled with your luscious pulp, had a loathsome potion of vinegar, mingled with gall, addi'essed to his lips : — that we might sit under the shadow of his merits with great tranquillity and the utmost complacen- cy ; that, ere long, being admitted into the paradise of God, we might eat of the tree of life, (Rev. ii. 7.) and drink new wine with him in his Father's kingdom. Ye luxiuriant meadows ! He, who \vithout the seedman's industry, replenishes your ir- riguous lap with never-failing crops of herb- age, and enamels their cheerful green with flowers of eveiy hue ; ye fertile fields ! — He, who blesses the labours of the husband- man, enriches your weU-tiUed plains with waving harvests, and calls forth the staff of life from your fiurows ; he, who causes ooth meadows and fields to laugh and sing, for the abundance of plenty; — He was no stranger to corroding hunger, and parching thirst ; he alas ! ate the bitter bread of woe, and had " plenteousness of tears to drink ;" 1 — that we might partake of richer dainties than those which are produced by the dew of heaven, and proceed from the fatness of the earth ; that we might feed on " the hidden manna," and eat the bread which giveth life — eternal life — unto the world. Ye mines ! rich in golden ore, or bright with veins of silver; that distribute your shining treasiu-es as far as winds can waft the vessel of commerce, which bestow your alms on monarchs, and have princes for your pensioners : — Ye beds of gems, toy-shops of nature ! which form, in dark retirement, the glittering stone ; diamonds, that sparkle with a brilliant water ; rubies, that glow with a crimson flame ; emeralds, dipped in the freshest verdure of spring; sapphires, decked with the fairest drapery of the sky ; topaz, emblazed with dazzling yellow ; ame- thyst, empurpled with the blushes of the morning : — He, who tinctures the metallic dust, and consolidates the lucid drop ; he, when sojourning or earth, had no riches but i the riches of disinterested benevolence, had j no ornament, but the ornament of unspotted purity. Poor he was in his circumstances, and mean in all his accommodations, that we might be rich in grace, and " obtain salvation with eternal glory ;" that we might inhabit the new Jerusalem, that splendid city, whose streets are paved with gold, whose gates are formed of pearl, and the walls garnished with all manner of precious stones. (Rev. xxi. 19, 21.) Ye gushing fountains ! that trickle potable silver through the matted grass ; ye fine transparent streams ! that glide in crystal waves, along your fringed banks ; ye deep and stately rivers ! that wind and wander in your course, to spread your favours wider, that gladden kingdoms in your progress, and augment the sea with your tribute : — He who supplies all your cunents from his own overflowing and inexhaustible liberality ; he, when his nerves were racked with ex- quisite pain, and his blood inflamed by a raging fever, cried, I thirst, and was de- nied (unparalleled hardship !) in this his great extremity, was denied the poor refresh- ment of a single drop of water ; — that we, having all-sufficiency in all things, might abound to every good work ; might be filled with the fulness of spiritual blessings here, and hereafter be satisfied with that fulness of joy which is at God's right hand for ever- more. Ye birds ! cheerful tenants of the boughs, gaUy dressed in glossy plumage, who wake the morn, and solace the groves, with your artless lays -. inimitable architects, who, without rule or Une, build your pensile structure with all the nicety of proportion ; you have each his commodious nest, roofed with shades, and lined with warmth, to pro- tect and cherish the caUow-brood : — but he, who tuned your throats to harmony, and taught you that curious skiU ; he was a man of sorrows and had not where to lay his head, — had not where to lay his head, till he felt the pangs of dissolution, and was laid in the silent grave ; — that we, dwelling under the wings of Omnipotence, and rest- ing in the bosom of infinite love, might spend an harmonious eternity in " singing the song of Moses and of the Lamb." Bees ! industrious workmen, that sweep with busy wing, the flowery garden, and search the blooming heath, and sip the mel- lifluous dews, — strangers to idleness ! — that ply, mth incessant assiduity, your pleasing task, and suffer no opening blossom to pass unexplored, no sunny gleam to slip away unimproved : most ingenious artificers ; that cling to the fragrant buds, drain them of their treasured sweet, and extract, (if I may so speak,) even the odoriferous souls of herbs, and plants, and flowers ; — you, when you have completed your work, have collected, refined, and securely lodged the 60 A DESCANT UPON CREATION. ambrosial stores ; when you might reason- ably expect the peacefid fruition of your acquisitions, you, alas ! are barbarously de- stroyed, and leave your hoarded delicacies to others, leave them to be enjoyed by your very murderers. I cannot but pity your haid destiny ! — How then should my bow- els melt with sympathy, and my eyes flow with tears,* when I remember, that thus, thus it fared with your and our incarnate Maker ! After a life of the most exempla- ry and exalted piety, a life filled with offi- ces of beneficence, and labours of love : He was, by wicked hands, crucified and slain : he left the honey of his toil, the balm of his blood, and the riches of his obedience, to be shared among others ; to be shared even among those who too often crucify him afresh, and put him to open shame. Shall I mention the animal,f which spins her soft, her shining, her exquisitely fine silken thread ! whose matchless manufac- tures lend an ornament to grandeur, and make royalty itself more magnificent. Shall I take notice of the cell, in which, when the gaiety and business of life are over, the little recluse immures herself, and spends the remainder of her days in retirement ? Shall I rather observe the sepulchre, which, when cloyed with pleasure, and weary of the world, she prepares for her o^vn interment ; or how, when a stat- ed period is elapsed, she wakes from a death-like inactivity; breaks the inclosure of her tomb ; throws off the dusky shroud ; as- sumes a new form ; puts on a more sump- tuous array ; and from an insect creeping on the ground, becomes a winged inhabitant of the air ? — No, this is a poor reptile, and therefore unworthy to serve as an illustra- tion, when any character of the Son of God comes imder consideration. But let me cor- rect myself. Was not Christ (to use the language of his own blessed Spirit) a worm, and no man ? (Psalm xxii. 6.) In appear- • Canst thou, ungrateful man, his torments see, Nor drop a tear for him who poured his blood for thee ? Pitt's Poems. t No one, I hope, will be offended at my introduc- ing, on such an occasion, creatures of so low a rank, since even the volumes of inspiration seem to lend me the sanction of their sacred authority. As they disdain not to compare the blessed Jesus to a door, a high- way, &c. And perhaps, all comparisons which re- spect a being of infinite dignity, are not only mean, but equally mean and unworthy. I am sensible, likewise, that in this paragraph, and some others, all the circumstances are not completely correspondent. But if, in some grand particulars the redition answers to the description, this I trustwillbe sufficient for my purpose, and satisfactory to my readers. — Perhaps it would be no mistaken caution, to apply the same observation to many of the beauti- ful similitudes, parables, and allegories used by our Lord : such as the brazen serpent, the imjust steward, the thief inthenight,&c. which, if scrupulously oifted, or rigorously strained, for an entire coincidence in every circumstance, must appear to great disadvan- tage, and lead into palpable inconveniencies. ance such, and treated as such — Did not he also bequeath the fine linen of his own most perfect righteousness, to compose the marriage-garment* for our disarrayed and defiled souls ? Did he not, before his flesh saw corruption, emerge triumphant from the grave ; and not only mount thp lower firmament, but ascend the heaven of heavens ; taking possession of those sublime abodes in our name, and as our forenmner. Ye cattle ! that rest in your inclosed pas- tures ; ye beasts ! that range the unlimited for- ests ; ye fish ! that rove through trackless paths of the sea ; sheep ! clad in garments, which when left by you, are wore by kings ; kine ! who feed on verdure, which, transmuted in yoiu- bodies, and strained from your udders, furnishes a repast for queens ; lions ! roaring after your prey ; leviathan ! taking your pas- time in the great deep : with all that wing • This, and several other hints, interspersed through- out this work, refer to the active and passive righte- ousness of Christ, imputed to believers for their jus- tification. Which in the opinion of many great ex- positors, is the mystical and the most sublime mean- ing of the wedding-garment, so emphatically and for- cibly recom.mendea by the teacher sent from God, (Matth. xxii. 11.) A doctrine, which some of those who honour my Meditations with a perusal, probably may not receive with much, if any approbation. I hope the whole performance may not be cashiered for one difference of sentiment; and I beg that the senti- ment itself may not hastily be rejected without a se- rious hearing. For I have the pleasure of being inti- mately acquainted with a gentleman of good learning and distinguished sense, who had once as strong pre- possessions against this tenet, as can well be ima- gined. Yet now he not only admits it as a truth, but embraces it, as the joy of his heart, and cleaves to it as the rock of his hopes. A clear and cogent. Treatise, entitled. Submission to the righteousness of God, was the instrument of re- moving his prejudices, and reducing him to a better judgment, — in which he has been happily confirmed by the authority of the most illustrious names, and the works of the most eminent pens, that ever adorn- ed our church and nation, — in this number, are Bi- shop Jewel, one of our great reformers ; and the other venerable compilers of our homilies ; Archbishop Ush- er, that oracle of universal learning; Bishop Hall, the devout and sprightly orator of his age; the co- pious and fervent Bishop Hopkins; the singularly good and unaffected Bishop Beveridge; that everlast- uig honour of the bench of judicature. Lord Chief Justice Hales ; the nervous, florid, and persuasive Dean Stanhope ; the practical and perspicuous Mr. Burkitt; and to simimon no other evidence, that matchless genius Milton, who in various parts of his divine poem, inculcates this comfortable truth ; and in one passage, represents it under the very same image, which is made use of above. Book X. 1. 222. I had almost forgot to mention that the Treatise, entitled Submission, &c. was written by Mr. Benja- min Jenks; whose book of devotions has deservedly passed through eleven editions; is truly admirable for the sublimity, spirituality, and propriety of the sentiments, as well as for theconcise form, and pathe- tic turn of the expression. — Whose book of medita- tions, though no less worthy of general acceptance, has, for a considerable time, been almost unknown and extinct. But it is now revived, and is lately re- published in two octavo volumes, by Mr. James Ri- vington. For which service he has my thanks, and 1 flatter myself he will have the thanks of the public ; as I am persuaded, could religion and virtue speak, he would have their acknowledgments also. Since few Treatisesare more happily calculated to represent re- ligion in its native beauty, and to promote the inter- ests of genuine virtue. — On which. account, I trust, the candid will excuse me, and the judicious will not condemn me, even though the recommendation of those devotions and of these medi unions may appear to be a digression from my subject. A DESCANT UIH>N CREATION. 61 the firmament, or tread the soil, or swim the wave :— He, wiio spreads his ever-hos- pitahle board ; who admits you all to be his continual guests ; and suffers you to want no manner of thing that is good ; — He was destitute, afflicted, tormented ; He endured all that was miserable and reproachfid, in order to exalt a degenerate race, who had debased themselves to a level with the beasts that perish, unto seats of distinguished and immortal honour, in order to introduce the slaves of sin, and heirs of hell, into mansions of consummate and everlasting bliss. Surely, the contemplation of such a sub- ject, and the distant anticipation of such a hope, may almost turn earth into heaven, and make even inanimate nature vocal with praise. Let it then break forth from every creature. Let the meanest feel the inspir- ing impulse ; let the greatest acknowledge themselves unable, worthily to express the stupendous goodness. Praise him, ye insects that crawl on the ground ! who though high above all height, humbled himself to dwell in dust. Birds of the air, waft on your wings and warble in your notes, his praise, who though Lord of the celestial abodes, while sojourning on earth, wanted a shelter, commodious as yoiu- rests. — Ye rougher world of brutes, join with the gentle songsters of the shade, and howl to him your hoarse applause ; who breaks the jaw-bones of the infernal lion j who softens into mildness the savage dis- position ; and bids the wolf lie down, in a- micable agreement with the lamb. Bleat out, ye hills ; let broader lows be respon- sive from the vales : ye forests catch, and ye rocks retain the inarticulate hymn ; be- cause Messiah the prince feeds his flock like a shepherd. He gathers the lambs with his arm ; he carries them in his bosom ; and gently leads those that are with young. (Isa. xl, 11.) Wave, ye stately cedars, in sign of worship, wave yoiu- branching heads to him, who meekly bowed his own, on the accursed tree Pleasing prospects, scenes of beauty, where nicest art conspires with lavish natiu-e, to form a paradise below, lay forth all your charms, and in all your charms confess yourselves a mere blank compared with his amiableness, who is the " fairest among ten thousand and altogether lovely." — Drop down, ye showers, and testify as you fall ; testify of his grace, which descends more copiously than the rain, distils more sweetly than the dew Let sighing gales breathe, and mvumuring rivulets flow ; breathe and flow in harmonious consonance fo him, whose spirit is far more reviving than the cooling breeze, who is himself the fountain of living waters. Ye lightnings ! blaze to his honour, ye thimders sound his praise, while reverberat- ing clouds return the roar, and bellowing oceans propagate the tremendous anthem. — Mutest of creatures, add yoiu- silent ora- tory, and display the triumphs of his meek- ness ; who though he maketh the clouds his chariot, and treadeth upon the waves of the sea ; though the thunder is his voice, and the lightning his sword of justice ; yet amidst the most abusive and cruel injuries, was submissive and lifted not his hand, was "dumb and opened not his mouth." — Great source of day, address thy radiant homage to a far sublimer smi ; write in all thy am- ple round, with every lucid beam, O write a testimony to him, who is the brightness of his Father's glory, who is the Sun of right- eousness to a sinful world, and is risen ne- ver to go down ; is risen to be our everlast- ing light Shine clear, ye skies ; look gay, thou earth ; let the floods clap their hands, and let every creature wear a smile ; for he cometh, the Creator himself cometh to be manifested in the flesh ; and with him comes pardon, peace, and joy ; every virtue and all felicity comes in his train — Angels and archangels, let your songs be of Jesus, and teach the very heavens to echo with his adored and majestic name. Ye beheld him, with greater transports of admiration, when you attended his agony in the garden, and saw him prostrate on the ground, than when you beheld universal nature rising at his call, and saw the wonders of his creating might. Tune to loftiest notes your golden harps, and waken raptures unknown before even in heavenly breasts, while all that has breath, swells the concert of harmony ; and all that has being unites in the tribute or praise. Chiefly let man exalt his voice ; let man, vrith distinguished hosannas, hail the Re- deemer. For man he was stretched on the racking cross ; for man, he was consigned to the gloomy sepulchre ; for man, he pro- cured grace umneasurable, and bliss incon- ceivable However different, therefore, in yourage, ormore different in your circumstan- ces, be unanimous, O men ! in magnifying a Saviour, who is no respecter of persons, who gave himself a ransom for all. — Bend, ye kings, from your tin-ones of ivory and gold, in yoiu: robes of imperial purple, fall pros trate at his feet ; who forsook a nobler throne, and laid aside more illustrious en- signs of majesty, that you might reign with God for ever and ever. — Children of pover- ty, meanest of mortals, (if any can be call- ed poor who are thus enriched ; if any can be accounted mean who are thus ennobled,) rejoice, greatly rejoice in God your Savioiu ; who chose to be indigent, was willing to be contemned ; that you might be entitled to the treasures, and be numbered with the princes of heaven. Sons of affliction, though harassed with pain, and innured to anguish, O ! change yoiu- groans into songs of grati- 62 A DESCANT UPON CREATION. tude : let no complaining voice, no jarring string be heard, in the universal symphony, but glorify the Lamb even in the fires ; ( Isa. xxiv. 15.) who himself bore greater tor- ment than you feel ; and has promised you a share in the joy which he inherits ; who has made your suiferings short, and will make yoiu" rest eternal. — Men of hoary locks, bending beneath a weight of years, and tottering on the brink of the grave ; let Christ be yoiur support under all infirmities ; lean upon Christ, as the rock of your salva- tion ; let his name, his precious name, form the last accents which quiver on your pale expiring lips ; — and let this be the first that lisps on your tongues, ye tender infants, re- member your Redeemer in your earliest mo- ments ; devote the choice of your hours to the learning of his will, and the chief of your strength to the glorifying of his name ; who in the perfection of health, and the very prime of manhood, was content to be- come a motionless and ghastly corpse, that you might be girt with the vigour, and clothed with the bloom of eternal youth. Ye spirits of just men made perfect ! who are released from the burden of the flesh ; and freed from all the vexatious solicitations of corruption in yourselves ; delivered from all the injurious effects of iniquity in others ; who sojourn no longer in the tents of strife, or the territories of disorder ; but are re- ceived into that pure, harmonious, holy so- ciety, where every one acts up to his amia- ble and exalted character ; where God him- self is pleased graciously and immediately to preside You find, not without pleasing astonishment, your hopes improved into ac- tual enjoyment, and your faith superseded by the beatific vision ; you feel all your for- mer shyness of behaviour, happily lost in the overflowings of unbounded love ; and all your little differences of opinion entirely bore down by tides of invariable truth. Bless, therefore, with all your enlarged powers, bless his infinitely larger goodness ; who, when he had overcome the sharpness of death, opened the gates of paradise, open- ed the kingdom of heaven to all genera- tions, and to every denominadon of the faithful. Ye men of holy conversation and humble tempers, thi k of him who loved you, and washed you from your sins in his own blood ; think >f him on your silent couch ; talk of him in every social interview ; glory in his excellencies, make your boast of his obedience, and add, still continue to add, the incense of a dutiful life, to all the obla- tions of a gratefid tongue — Weakest of be- lievers, who go mourning under a sense of guilt, and conflicting with the ceaseless as- saults of temptation, put off your sackcloth and be girded with gladness. Because .Te- 8US is as merciful to heiir, as he is mighty to help. Because he is touched with the tenderest sympathizing conceni, for ail your distresses ; and he lives, ever lives, to be your advocate with the Father. — Why then should uneasy doubts sadden your counten- ances ? Why should desponding fears op- press your soul ? Turn, turn, those discon- solate sighs into cheerful hymns, since you have his powerful intercession, and his in- estimable merits, to be your anchor in all tribulations, to be your passport into eter- nal blessedness. Most of all, ye ministers of the sanctu- ary, heralds commissioned from above ; lift every one his voice like a trumpet, and loudly proclaim the Redeemer. Get ye up, ye ambassadors of peace, get ye up into the high mountains ; and spread far and wide the honours of the Lamb " that was slain, but is alive for evermore." Teach every sacred roof to resound with his fame, and every human heart to glow with his love. Declare as far as the force of words will go, declare the inexhausible fulness of that great atonement, whose merits are commen- surate with the glories of the Divinity.* Tell the sinful wretch, what pity yearns in Immanuel's bowels ; what blood he has spilt, what agonies he has endured, what wonders he has wrought, for the salvation of his enemies. Invite the indigent to be- come rich ; entreat the guilty to accept of pardon, because with the crucified Jesus is plenteous redemption, and all sufficiency to save. — While you, placed in conspicuous stations, pour the joyful sound, may I, as I steal through the vale of humble life, catch the pleasing accents ! For me the author of all blessings became a curse : for me, his bones were dislocated, and his flesh was torn ; he hung with streaming veins, and agonizing soul on the cross for me. O ! may I in my little sphere, and amidst the scanty circle of my acquaintance, at least whisper these glad transporting tidings ? whisper them from my o^vn heart, that they * If in this place and others, I have spoken magni- ficently of the blood of Christ, and its insuperable efficacy to expiate guilt, I think it is no more than is expressed in a very celebrated hymn, written by one of the greatest wits, who had also been one of the greatest libertines, and afterwards commenced one of the most remarkable penitents in France ; a hymn, which even Mr. Bayle confesses to be a very fine one, which another critic calls an admirable one, and which a genius superior to them both, recommends as a noble one. (See Spect. Vol. vii. No. 513.) The author having acknowledged his crimes to be beyond measure heinous, and almost beyond forgive- ness provoking — so provoking, as to render tears from such eyes offensive, and prayers from such lips abomi- nable; composes himself to submit, without the least repining sentiment ; to submit even with praise and adoration, to the most dreadful doom. Accordingly, he stands in resigned exp'fectation of being instantly struck by the bolts of vengeance ; but with a turn of thought equally surprising and sprightly, with afaith properly founded and happily firm, he adds. Yet where ! O where ! can even thy thunders fall ? Christ's blood o'erq?reads and shields mefrora them all. A DESCANT UPON CREATION. 63 may surely reach, and sweetly penetrate theirs. But when men and angels raise the grand hymn, when all worlds and all beings add their collective acclamations ; this full, fer- vent, and universal chorus will be so infe- rior to the riches of the Redeemer's grace, so disproportionate to the magnificence of his gloij, that it will seem but to debase the unutterable subject it attempts to exalt, the loud hallelujah will die away, in the so- lemn mental eloquence of prostrate, raptur- ous, silent adoration. O Goodness infinite ! goodness immense ! And love that passeth knowledge I—words are vain Language is lost in wonders so divine " Come then expressive silence muse his praise." CONTEMPLATIONS f ON thf: NIGHT, AND THE STARRY HEAVENS, WITH A WINTER-PIECE. ''l,lY ilEDITATIONS OF HIM SHALL BE SWEET." — PSALM CIV. 34. PAUL ORCHARD, ESQ. STOKE-ABBEY, DEVONSHIRE. Dear Sir, As your honoured father was pleas- ed to make choice of me to answer in your name at the font, and to ex- ercise a sort of guardianship over your spiritual interests, permit me, by putting these little treatises into your hand, to fulfil some part of that so- lemn obligation. Gratitude for many signal favours, and a conscientious regard to my sacred engagement, have long ago inspired my breast with the warmest wishes, both for your true dignity, and real happiness. Nor can I think of a more endearing, or a more ef- fectual way of advancing either the one or the other, than to set before you a sketch of your excellent father's character. Illustrious examples are the most winning incitements to vir- tue ; and none can come attended with such particular recommenda- tions to you, sir, as the pattern of that worthy person from whom you derive your very being. A most cordial and reverential esteem for the divine word, was one of his remarkable qualities. Those oracles of Heaven were his principal delight, and his inseparable compa- nions. Your gardens, your solitary walks, and the hedges of your fields, can witness (Joshua xxiv. 27.) with what an unwearied assiduity he ex- ercised himself in the law of the Lord. From hence he fetched his maxims of wisdom, and formed his judgment of things ; the sacred pre- cepts were the model of his temper, and the guide of his life ; while the precious promises were the joy of his heart, and his portion for ever. Improving company was another of his most relishing pleasures. Few gentlemen were better furnished, ei- ther withrichness of fancy, or copious- ness of expression, to bear a shining part in conversation. With these talents he always endeavoured to give some useful, generally some re- ligious, turn to the discourse. Nor did he ever reflect with greater com- placency on his social hours, than when they tended to glorify the eter- nal majesty, and to waken in himself and others a more lively spirit of devotion. To project for the good of others, was his frequent study ; and to car- ry those benevolent contrivances in- to execution, his favourite employ. When visited by the young persons of the neighbourhood, far from tak- ing an ungraceful pride to initiate them in debauchery, or confirm them in a riotous habit, it was his inces- sant aim, by finely-adapted persua- sives, to encourage them in industry, and establish them in a course of so- 68 DEDICATION. biiety, to giuurl them against thei allurements of vice, and animate them M'ith the principles of piety. A noble kind of hospitality this ! which will probably transmit its be- neficial influence to their earthly pos- sessions, to their future families, and even to their everlasting state. A conviction of human indigence, and a thorough persuasion of the divine all-sufficiency, induced him to be frequent in prayer. To prostrate himself in profound adoration, be- fore that infinitely exalted Being, who dwells in light inaccessible, was his glory ; to implore the continu- ance of the Almighty favour, and the increase of all Christian graces, Avas his gain. In tliose moments, no doubt, he remembered you, sir, with a particular earnestness ; and lodged many an ardent petition in the court of Heaven for his infant son. Cease not to second them with your own devout supplications, that they may descend upon your head, " in the fulness of the blessings of the gospel of peace." To give their genuine lustre to all his other endowments, he was care- ful to maintain an humble mind. Though his friends might admire his superior abilities, or his acquaint- ance applaud his exemplary beha- viour, he saw how far he fell short of the mark of his high calling ; saw, and lamented his defects ; saw, and renounced himself ; relying for final acceptance and endless felicity on a better righteousness than his own, even on the transcendently perfect righteousness, and inconceivably pi-e- cious death of Jesus the Redeemer. This was the rock of his hope, and the very crown of his rejoicing. These, sir, are some of the distin- guishing characteristics of your de- ceased parent. As you had the mis • fortune to lose so valuable a relative, before you was capable of forming any acquaintance with his person, I flatter myself you will the more attentively observe his picture — this his moral picture ; designed, not to be set in gold, or sparkle in enamel, but to breathe in your spirit, and to live in all your conduct ; which, though it be entirely your owm, cal- culated purely for yourself, may pos- sibly (like the family pieces in your parlour, that glance an eye upon as many as enter the room) make some pleasing and useful impression on every beholdei'. May every one, charmed with the beautiful image, catch its resemblance ; and each, in its respective sphere, " go and do likewise." But you, sir, are peculiarly con- cerned to copy the amiable original. As the order of an indulgent Provi- dence has made you heir of the affluent circumstances, let not a gay and thoughtless inadvertence cut you ofl^ from the richer inheritance of these noble qualifications. These will be your security amidst all the glittering dangers which are insepa- rable from blooming years and an elevated situation in life. These are your path, your sure and only path, to true greatness, and solid happiness. Tread in these steps, and you cannot fail to be the darling of yom* friends, and the favourite of heaven. Tread in these steps, and you will give inexpressible joy to one of the best of mothers ; you will become an extensive blessing to your fellow -creatures ; and which, after such most engaging motives, is scarce worthy to be mentioned, you will be the deliglit, the honour, and the boast of, dear sir, your very aff^ectionate godfather, and most faithful hum- ble servant, JAMES HERVEY. Weston- Favel, near Northampton, July 14, 1747. PREFACE "We have ali-eady exercised our spe- culations on the Tombs and Flowers ; surveying natm-e, covered with the deepest horrors, and arrayed in the richest beauties. Allegory taught many of the oojects to speak the lan- guage of vu'tue, while imagination lent her colom-ing to give the les- sons an engaging air. And this with a view of imitating that divine in- structor, who commissioned the lily in her silver suit, to remonstrate in the ear of unbelieving reason ; who sent his disciples (men ordained to teach the universe) to learn max- ims of the last importance, from the most insignificant birds that wander tlirough the paths of the air ; from the very meanest herbs, (Matth. vi. 26, 28, 29, 30,) that are scattered over the face of the arround.* * Celebrated writers, as Demosthenes and Cicero, Thucydides and Livy, are ob- served to have a style peculiar to themselves. Now, whoever considers the discourses of Christ, will find him distinguishing himself by a style, which may properly be called his own. Majestic, yet familiar, happily uniting dignity with condescension, it con- sists in teaching his followers the sublimest truths, by spiritualizing on the most com- mon occurrences ; which besides its being level to the lowest apprehensions, and ad- mirably adapted to steal into the most inat- tentive heart, is accompanied with this very singular advantage, that it turns even the sphere of business into a school of instruc- tion; and renders the most ordinary objects a set of monitors, ever soliciting our re- gard because ever present to our senses. — So that 1 believe, it may be said of this amiable method, in which our Lord con vcyod, as well as of that powerful energy Eiuboldened by the kind accep- tance of the preceding sketches, I beg leave to confide in the same be- nevolence of taste, for the protection and support of the two remaining es- says ; which exhibit a prospect of still life, and grand operation, which moralize on the most composed, and most magnificent appearances of things ; in which Fancy is again suffered to introduce her imagery, but only as the handmaid of Truth, in order to dress her person, and dis- play her charms, to engage the at- tention, and win the love even of the gay and of the fashionable ; which is more likely to be affected, by forming agreeable pictures of na- ture, and deriving instructive obser- vations, than by the laboz-ious method which attended his doctrines, " That never man spake like this man." — The harvest ap- proaching, he reminds his disciples of a far more important harvest, John iv. 35. Matt, xiii. 39. when immortal beings shall be reap- ed from the grave, and gathered in from all the quarters of the earth, when every bus- man creature shall sustain the character of valuable wheat, or despicable tares ; and accordingly be lodged in mansions of ever- lasting security, or consigned over to the rage of unquenchable fire. — In his charge to fishermen when they are commencingpreach- ers, Matth. iv. 19, he exhorts them, con- formably to the nature of their late occupa- tion, to use the same assiduity and address in winning souls, as they were wont to ex- ercise in catching the finny prey — For the farther illustration of this no less useful, than curious subject, I would refer my read- er to a valuable note in Sir Isaac Newton's Observations on the Prophecies, p 1 IS. ito. edition. 70 PREFACE. of long-deduced arguments, or close connected reasonings. The contem- plation of the heavens and the earth, of their admirable properties and beneficial changes, has always afford- ed the most exalted gratification to the human mind. In compliance with this prevailing taste, I have drawn my serious admonitions from the stupendous theatre, and varie- gated scenery of tlie universe ; that the reader may learn his duty from his very pleasures ; may gather wis- dom mingled with virtue, from the most refined entertainments, and no- blest delights. The evening drawing her sables over the world, and gently darken- ing into Night, is a season peculiarly proper for sedate consideration. All circumstances concur to hush our passions, and soothe our cares, to tempt our steps abroad, and prompt our thoughts to serious reflection. Then is the time For those whom wisdom, and whom nature charm, To steal themselves from the degen'rate crowd, And Eoar above this little scene of thiiigs ; To tread low thoughted vice beneath their feet; To soothe the throbbing passions into peace, And woo lone quiet in her silent walks.* The favour I would solicit for the first of the following compositions is, that it may be permitted to attend in such retired and contemplated ex- cursions, to attend, if not under the character of a friend, at least in the humble capacity of a servant or a page ; as a servant to open the door * Thomson's Autumn, 1. 973. last edit. 12mo. of meditation, and remove every im- pediment to those better exercises of the mind, which blend advantage with amusement, and improve while they delight ; as a page, to gather up the unstable fluctuating train of fan- cy, and collect her fickle powers into a consistent, regulai* and useful ha- bit of thinking. The other conversant among the starry regions, would lead the ima- gination through those beautiful tracts of unclouded azure, and point out to the judgment some of those astonisliing particulars which so eminently signalize the celestial worlds. A prospect this to which curiosity attracts our eyes, and to which scripture itself often directs our study, a prospect beyond all others most excellently calculated to enlai'ge the soul, and ennoble its con- ceptions ; to give the grandest ap- prehensions of the everlasting God, and create sentiments of becoming superiority, with relation to all tran- sitory interests; in a word, to fui'nish faith with the surest foundation for a holy afiiance and true magnani- mity of spirit, to afi'ord piety the strongest motives, both for a lively gratitude, and profound veneration. While Galileo lifts his tube, and discovers the prodigious magnitude of those radiant orbs ; while Newton measures their amazing distances, and unites the whole system in har- monious order by the subtile influ- ences of attraction ; I wovdd only, like the herald before that illustrious Hebrew, (Gen. xli. 43.) proclaim at every turn, " Bow the knee, and adore the Almighty Maker, magnify his eternal name, and make his praise like all his works, to be glorious. CONTEMPLATIONS ON THE NIGHT. The business of the day dispatched, and the sultry heats abated, invited me to the re- creation of a walk, a walk in one of the fin- est recesses of the country, and in one of the most pleasant evenings which the sum- mer season produced. The limes and elms, uniting their branches over my head, formed a verdant canopy, and cast a most refreshing shade. Under my feet lay a carpet of nature's velvet ; grass intermingled with moss, and embroidered with flowers. Jessamines, in conjunction with woodbines, twined around the trees ; displaying their artless beauties to the eye, and diffusing their delicious sweets through the air. On either side, the boughs, round- ed into a set of regular arches, opened a view into the distant fields, and presented me with a prospect of the bending skies. The little birds, all joyous and grateful for the favours of the light, were paying their acknowledgments in a tribute of harmony, and soothing themselves to rest with songs, while a P>ench horn from a neighbouring seat, sent its melodious accents, softened by the length of their passage, to complete the concert of the grove. Roving in this agreeable manner, my thoughts were exercised on a subject still more agreeable than the season, or the scene, I mean our late signal victory over the united forces of intestine treason, and foreign invasion, a victory which pours joy through the present age, and will transmit its influence to generations yet unborn Are not all the blessings which can endear society, or render life itself desirable, cen- tered in our present happy constitution, and auspicious government ? Were they not all struck at by that impious and horrid blow, meditated at Rome, levelled by France, and seconded by factious spirits at home ? Who then can be sufficiently thankfid for the gra- cious interposition of Providence, which has not only averted the impending ruin, but turned it, with aggravated confusion, on the authors of our troubles. Methinks, every thing valuable which I possess ; every thing charming which I be- hold, conspire to enhance this ever-memor- able event. To this it is owing that I can ramble unmolested along the vale of private life, and taste all the innocent satisfactions of a contemplative retirement. — Had rebel- lion* succeeded in her detestable designs ; instead of walking with security a:,'i tonir placence in these flowery paths, 1 inight have met the assassin with his dagger, or have been obliged to abandon my habita- tion, and " embrace the rock for a shelter." — Farewell then, ye fragrant shades ; seats of meditation and calm repose ! I should have been driven from yoiu: loved retreats, to make way for some barbarous, some in- sulting victor. Farewell then, ye pleasing toils, and wholesome amusements of my ru- ral hours ! I should no more have reared the tender flower to the sun ; no more have taught the espalier to expand her boughs ; nor have fetched any longer from my kit- chen-garden the purest supplies of health. Had rebellion succeeded in her detesta- ble designs, instead of being regaled with the music of the woods, I might have been • Referring to the rebellion set on foot in the year 1745, which for several months made a very alarming progress in the North ; — but was happily extinguished by the gloriovis and decisiTe victory ac Culloden. 72 CONTEMPLATIONS alarmed with the sound of the trumpet, and all the thunder of war. Instead of being entertained with this beautiful landscape, I might have beheld our houses ransacked, and our villages plundered : I might have beheld our fenced cities encompassed with armies, and our fruitful fields " clothed with desolation :" or have been shocked with the more frightful images of garments rolled in blood," and of a ruffian's blade reeking from a brother's heart. Instead of peace, with her cheering olives, sheltering our abodes ; instead of justice, vnth her impartial scale, securing oiu" goods ; persecution had brand- ished her sword, and slavery clanked her chains. Nor are these miseries imaginary only, or the creatures of a groundless panic. There are in a neighbouring kingdom, 'vho very lately experienced them in all th i' li- gour.* And if the malignant spirit ot I'o- pery had forced itself into our chinch ; if an abjured pretender had cut his way to our throne, we could have no reason to expect a mitigation of their severity on our be- half. But supposing the tender mercies of a bigoted usurper to have been somewhat less cruel ; where, alas ! w'ould have been the encouragement to cultivate our little portion ; or what pleasure could arise from an improved spot ; if both the one and the other lay every moment at the mercy of lawless power ? This imbittering circum- stance would spoil their relish ; and by ren dering them a precarious, would render them a joyless acquisition. In vain might the vine spread her purple clusters, in vain be lavish of her generous juices, if tyranny, like a ravenous harpy, should be always ho - vering over the bowl, and ready to snatch it from the lip of industry, or wrest it from the hand of liberty. Liberty ! that dearest of names ; and pro- perty ! that best of charters ; give an addi- tional, an inexpressible charm to every de- lightful object. See how the declining sun has beautified the western clouds ; has ar- rayed them in crimson, and skirted them with gold. Such a refinement of our do- mestic bliss is property, such an improve- ment of our public privileges is liberty — When the lamp of day shall entirely with- draw his beams, there will still remain the same colleclion of floating vapours ; but O ! how changed, how gloomy ! The carnation- streaks are faded ; the golden edges are worn away ; and all the lovely tinges are lost in a leaden-coloured louring sadness. • See a Pamphlet entitled Popery always the same, whi n contains a narrative of the persecutions and severe hard hiiis lately suffered by the protestants in the southern parts of France; and closes with a most seasonahle, aUirminp;, and spirited address to the in- babitauta of Great Britain. Printed I/'tis. Such would be the aspect of all these scenes of beauty, and all these abodes of pleasure, if exposed continually to the caprice of ar- bitrary sway, or held in a state of abject and cringing dependence. The sun has almost finished his daily race, and hastens to the goal. He des- cends lower and lower, till his chariot- wheels seem to hover on the utmost verge of the sky, \Vliat is somewhat remarkable, the orb of light upon the point of setting, grows considerably broader. The shadows of objects, just before they become blended in undistinguishable darkness, are exceed- ingly lengthened* — Like blessings little prized while possessed ; but highly esteem- ed, the very instant they are preparing for their flight ; bitterly regretted when once they are gone, and to be seen no more. The radiant globe is now half immersed beneath the dusky earth, or as the ancient poet speaks, is shooting into the ocean, and sinks in the western sea. — And could I view the sea at this junctiu-e, it would yield a most amusing and curious spectacle. The rays, striking horizontally on the liquid element, give it the appearance of floating glass ; or reflected in many a different di- rection, form a beautiful multiplicity of colours. A stranger, as he walks along the sandy beach, and lost in pensive attention, listens to the murmurings of the restless flood, is agreeably alarmed by the gay decor- ations of the surface. With entertainment and with wonder, he sees the curling waves, here glistering with white, there glowing with purple ; in one place wearing an azure tincture, in another glancing a cast of un- dulating green ; in the whole, exhibiting a piece of fluid scenery, that may vie with yon- der pensile tapestries, though wrought in the loom, and tinged \vith the dyes of heaven. While I am transported by fancy to the shores of the ocean, the great luminary is sunk beneath the horizon, and totally dis- appears. The whole face of the ground is overspread with shades ; or, with what one of the finest painters of nature calls a dun obscurity. Only a few very superior emin- ences are tipt with streaming silver. The tops of groves and lofty towers catch the last smiles of day ;f are still irradiated by the departing beams. — But O ! how tran- sient is the distinction ! how momentary the gift : Like all the bless-ngs which mor- tals enjoy below, it is gone almost as soon as granted. See how laiiguishingly it trem- * Majoresque cadunt altis de montibus umbrae. — t See this remarkable appearance delicately des- cribed; and wrought into a comparison, which in my opinion is one of the most jiiot, beauti/ul, and n;> Die pieces of imagery to be found in modem poetry ; Night Thoughts, No. II. p. 42. 4to. edition. ON THE NIGHT. 73 bles on the leafy spire, and glimmers with a dying faintness, on the mountain's brow. The little vivacity that remains, decays every moment. It can no longer hold its station. While I speak, it expires, and re- signs the world to the gradual approaches of night. Now twilight gray Has in her sober livery all things clad.* Every object a little while ago glared with light, but now all appears under a more qualified lustre. The animals har- monize \\'ith the insensible creation ; and what was gay in those, as well as glittering in this, gives place to an universal gravity. In the meadows all was jocund and sportive ; but now the gamesome lambs are grown weary of their frolics, and the tired shep- herd has imposed silence on his pipe. In the branches, all was sprightliness and song, but now the lively green is wrapt in the descending glooms ; and no tuneful airs are heard, only the plaintive stock-dove cooing moimifully through the grove. Should I now be vain and trifling, the heavens and the earth would rebuke my unseasonable le- vity. Therefore, be these moments devot- ed to thoughts sedate as the closing day, solemn as the face of things. And indeed, however my social hours are enlivened with innocent pleasantry, let every evening, in her sable habit, toll the bell to serious consider- ation. Nothing can be more proper for a person who walks on the borders of eterni- ty, and is hasting continually to his final audit ; nothing more proper, than daily to slip away from the circle of amusements, and frequently to relinquish the hurry of business, in order to consider and adjust "the things that belong to his peace." Since the sun is departed, from whence can it proceed that I am not involved in pitchy darkness ? Whence these remainders of diminished brightness, which, though scarcely forming a refulgence, soften and soothe the horrors of night ? I see not the shining ruler, yet am cheered \\'ith a real though faint communication of his splen- dour. Does he remember us in his pro- gress through other climes ? does he send a detachment of his rays to escort us, during his personal absence ? or to cover (if I may use the military term) our retreat from the scene of action ? Has he bequeathed us a dividend of his beams, sufficient to render our circumstances easy, and our situation agreeable, till sleep pours its soft impres- sion on the organs of sense ; till sleep sus- pends all the operations of our hands, and entirely supersedes any further occasion for the light. No ; it is ill judged and unreasonable to ascribe this beneficent conchict to the sun. Not imto him, not unto him ; but unto his Almighty Maker, we axe obliged for this pleasant attendant, this valuable legacy. The gracious Author of our being has so disposed the collection of circumambient air, as to make it productive of this fine and wonderful effect. The sun-beams, falling on the higher parts of the aereal fluid, in- stead of passing on in straight lines, are bent inwards, and conducted to our sight. Their natiural course is over-ruled, and they are bidden to wheel about, on purpose to fa- vour us vvdth a welcome and salutary visit. — By which means the blessing of light, and the season of business, are considerably prolonged ; and what is a very endearing circumstance, prolonged most considerably when the vehement heats of summer in- cline the student to postpone his walk till the temperate evening prevails ; when the important labours of the harvest call the husbandman abroad before the day is fully risen. After all the ardours of the sultry day, how revivuig is this coolness ! This gives new verdiue to the fading plants, new viva- city to the withering flowers, and a more ex- quisite fragrance to their mingled scents. By this, the air also receives a new force, and is (jualified to exert itself with greater activity; qualified to brace our limbs, to heave our lungs, and to co-operate with a brisker impulse in perpetuating the circu- lation of om- blood. This I might call the grand alembic of natiue, which distils her most sovereign cordial, the refreshing dews. Incessant heat would rob us of their benefi- cial agency, and oblige them to evaporate in imperceptible exhalations. Turbulent winds, or even the gentler motions of Au- rora's fan, would dissipate the rising vapours, and not suffer them to form a coalition. But favoured by the stillness, and condens- ed by the coolness of the night, they unite in pearly drops, and create that finely tem- pered humidity, which cheers the vegetable world, as sleep exhilarates the animal. Not unlike to these are the advantages of solitude. The world is a troubled ocean ; and who can erect stable purjioses on its fluctuating waves ? The world is a school of wrong ; and who does not feel himself \'\'arping to its pernicious influence ?* On this sea of glass (Rev. xv. 2.) how insen- sibly we slide from our own steadfastness ! Some sacred truth, which was struck in live- ly characters on our souls, is obscured, if not obliterated. Some worthy resolution, which heaven had wrought in our breasts, is shak- Milt. Par, Lost, Book iv. I. 538. * Nunquam a turba mores, quos extuli, refero. AIi- qiiid ex eoqiiod composui, turbatur: aliquid, ex his quaefugavi redit. Ininuca est multorum conversa- tio. — Sencc. 74 CONTEMPLATIONS en, if not overthrown. Some enticing ^'a- nity, which we had solemnly renounced, again practises its wiles, and again capti- vates our affections. How often has an imwary glance kindled a fever of irregular desire in our hearts ? How often has a word of applause dropt luscious poison into our ears ? or some disrespectful expression raised a gust of passion in our bosoms ? Our innocence is of so tender a constitution, that it suffers in the promiscuous crowd. Our piu^ity is of so delicate a complexion, that it scarce touches on the world without con- tracting a stain. "We see, we hear, with pe- rU. But here safety dwells. Every meddling and intrusive avocation is secluded. Si- lence holds the door against the strife of tongues, and all the impertinencies of idle conversation. The busy swarm of vain images, and cajoling temptations, which be- set us, with a buzzing importunity, amidst the gaieties of life, are chased by these thickening shades. Here I may without disturbance commune with my own heart, and learn that best of sciences, to know my- self. Here the soul may rally her dissipat- ed powers, and grace recover its native ener- gy. This is the opportunity to rectify eve- ry evil impression, to expel the poison, and guard against the contagion of corrupting examples. This is the place where I may with advantage apply myself to subdue the rebel within, and be master, not of a scep- tre, but of myself. Throng, then, ye am- bitious, the levees of the powerful : I will be punctual in my assignations with soli- tude. To a mind intent upon its own im- provement, solitude has charms incompara- bly more engaging than the entertainments presented in the theatre, or the honours conferred in the drawing-room. I said solitude. — Am I then alone ? — It is true, my acquaintance are at a distance. I have stolen away from company, and am remote from all human observation. But that is an alarming thought, Millions of spiritual creatures walk the earth Unseen, both when we wake and when we sleep.* Perhaps there may be numbers of those invisible beings patrolling this same retreat, and joining with me in contemplating the Creator's works. Perhaps those minister- ing spirits who rejoice at the conveision of a sinner, and hold up the goings of the righteous, may follow us to the lonely re- cess ; and even in our most solitary mo- ments, be constant attendants. What a pleasing awe is awakened by such a reflec- tion ! How venerable it renders my retired walks ! I am struck with reverence, as un- der the roof of some sacred edifice, or in the presence-chamber of some mighty mon- arch, O ! may I never bring any pride of imagination, nor indulge the least dissolute affection, where such refined and exalted in- telligences exercise their watch ! It is possible that I am encompassed with such a cloud of witnesses ; but it is certain that God, the infinite eternal God, is now and ever with me. The great Jehovah, before whom all the angelic armies bow their heads and veil their faces, sm-rounds me, supports me, pervades me. " In him I live, move, and have my being." The whole world is his august temple, and in the most sequestered corner I appear be- fore his adorable Majesty, no less than when I worship in his house, or kneel at his al- tar. In eveiy place, therefore, let me pay him the homage of a heart cleansed from idols and devoted to his service. In every circumstance, let me feel no ambition, but to please him, nor covet any happiness, but to enjoy him. How sublime is the description, and how striking the sentiment, in that noble pas- sage of the Psalms : Whilher shall I go from thy spirit, or whither shall I flee from thy presence ? If I climb up into the heights of heaven thou art there enthroned in light. If I go down to the depths of the grave, thou art there also in thy pavilion of darkness. If I retire to the remotest eas- tern climes, where the morning first takes wings ; if, swifter than the darting ray, I pass to the opposite regions of the west, and remain in the uttermost parts of the sea ;* shall I in that distant situation be beyond thy reach, or by this sudden transi- tion escape thy notice ? So far from it, that could I, with one glance of thought, trans- port myself beyond all the boimds of crea- tion, I shoiUd still be encircled with the immensity of thy essence, or rather still be enclosed in the hollow of thy hand. Aw- ful, yet delightful truth ! let it be intenvo- ven with eveiy thought, and become one with the very consciousness of my exis- tence ; that I may continually walk with God, and conduct myself in every step of my behaviour, " as seeing Him that is in- visible." They are the happy persons ; felicity, true felicity, is all their own, who live imder an habitual sense of God's omnipresence, and a sweet persuasion of his special love. If dangers threaten, th"eir impregnable defence is at hand. Nothing can be so near to ter- rify, as their almighty Guardian to secure • Mill. rar. Lost, Book iv. 1, fi/r. * Psalm cxxxix. 7—9. There is, I think an addi- tional strength and beauty in the thought, if, with the learned Mr. Mudge, we suppose an antithesis be- tween the two clauses of the last verse, as there evi- dently is between those of the preceding, and that they PTtpre^s, in a poetical style, the extremities of the ca>t and the west. ON THE NIGHT. 75 them. To these, the hours can never be tedious ; and it is impossible for them to be alone. Do they step aside from the occu- pations of animal life ? A more exalted set of employments engage their attention. They addi-ess themselves in all their various acts of devotion, to their heavenly Father ; who now sees in secret, and ^vill hereafter reward them openly. They spread all their wants before his indulgent eye, and disbur- den all their sorrows into his compassionate bosom. Do they withdraw from human so- ciety ? They find themselves under the more immediate regards of their Maker. If they resign the satisfactions of social intercourse, it is to cultivate a correspondence with the condescendijig Deity, and taste the plea- sures of divine friendship. What is such a state but the very suburbs of heaven ! What IS such a conauct, but an antepast of eter- nal blessedness ! Now, my soul, the day is ended, The hours are all fled. They are fled to the supreme Judge, and have given in their evidence ; an evidence registered in heaven, and to be pro- duced at the great audit. Happy they whose improvement has kept pace with the fleeting minutes, who have seized the important fu- gitives, and engaged them in the pursuit of wisdom, or devoted them to the' aprvice of virtue. ■'L^ Fugitives indeed they are. Um moments slip away silently and insensibly. The thief steals notinore unperceived from the pillaged house ; so that the day seems to be closed almost as soon as it dawned — And will the runagates never stop ? No ; wherever we are, however employed, time pursues his incessant course. Though we are listless and dilatory, the great measurer of oiu: days presses on ; still presses on in his unwear- ied career,* and whirls our weeks, and months, and years away. Is it not then surprisingly strange, to hear people complain of the tediousness of their time, and how hea\'y it hangs upon their hands ? to see them contrive a variety of amusing artifices, to accelerate its flight, and get rid of its burden ! Ah ! thoughtless mortals ! Why need you urge the headlong torrent ? Your days are swifter than a post, which, carry- ing dispatches of the last importance, with unremitted speed scours the road. They pass away like the nimble ships, which have the wind in their wings, and skim along the watery plain. They hasten to their destined period with the rapidity of an eagle ; which leaves the stormy blasts behind her, while she cleaves the air, and darts upon her prey, f Now the day is gone, how short it ap- pears ! When my fond eye beheld it in per- spective, it seemed a very considerable space. Minutes crowded upon minutes, and hours ranged behind hours, exhibited an extensive draught, and flattered me with a long progression of pleasm-es. But, upon a retrospective view, how wonderfully is the scene altered ! the landscape, large and spacious, which awarm fancy drew, brought to the test of cool experience, shrinks into a span. Just as the shores vanish, and mountains dwindle to a spot, when the sail- or, surrounded by skies and ocean, throws his last look on his native land. How clearly do I now discover the cheat ! May it never impose upon my unwary imagina- tion again ! I find there is nothing abiding on this side eternity. A long duration in a state of finite existence is mere illusion. Perhaps the healthy and the gay may not readily credit the serious truth ; espe- cially from a young pen, and new to its employ. Let us then refer ourselves to the decision of the ancient. Ask some venerable old person, who is just marching off the mortal stage, how many have been the days of the years of thy life ? ( Gen, xlvii. 8. Heb. Bib.) It was a monarch's question, and therefore can want no recom- mendation to the fashionable world. Ob- serve how he shakes his hoary locks, and from a deep-felt conviction replies, " Four- score years have finished their rounds, to furrow these cheeks, and clothe this head in snow." Such a term may seem long and large to inconsiderate youth ; but, oh ! how short, how scanty, to one that has made the experiment ! Short as a gleam of transient sun-shine ; scanty " as the sha- dow that departeth." Me thinks, it was but yesterday that I exchanged my chiluish sports for manly exercises ; and now I am resigning them both for the sleep of death. As soon as we are bom, we begin to draw to our end ; and how small is the interval between the cradle and the tomb ! Oh, may we believe this testimony of mature age ! May every evening bring it with clearer evidence to our minds. And may we form such an estimate of the little pittance while it is upon the advancing hand, as we shall certainly make when the sands are all run down. Let me add one reflection on the work to be done, while this shuttle is flying through the loom;* a work of no small • Sed fusit interea, fuc;it irreparabile terapus. — Virg. t Job ix. 25, 2(!. by these tliree very expressive iiiingcs, the insiiircd poet represents the unintermit- ted and rapid flight of time. Tlie passage is illiis- iratcd wiih great judgment and equal delicaiy, in Dr. Gray's most ingenious abridgment of Schultens. Quae tribusin elementis velocissima, hie admirabili cum emphasi congeruntur. In terris, nil pernicius cursore, et quidem laeti quid ferente. Rapidius ta- men adhuc undas, non secant sed supervolant, navig- ia papyro contexta. Omnium rapidissime aerem grandibus alls permetilur aquila, praecipiti lapsu ruens in praedam. * My days are swifter than a weaver's shuttle. Job vii. G. 76 CONTEMPLATIONS difliciilty, yet of the utmost consequence. Hast tliou not seen, hast thou not known the excellent of the earth, who were living images of their Maker ? His divine likeness was transfused into their hearts, and beamed forth in all their conduct ; beamed forth in meekness of wisdom and purity of affection ; in all the tender offices of love, and all the noble efforts of zeal. To be stamped with the same beautiful signature, and to be followers of them as they were of Christ ; this, this is thy business : On the accom- plishment of this, thy eternal all depends. And will an affair of such unspeakable weight admit of a moment's delay, or con- sist with the least remissness ; especially since much of thy appointed time is already elapsed, and the remainder is all uncertain- ty, save only that it is in the very act to fly ? Or, suppose thou hast made a covenant with the grave, and wast assured of reaching the age of Methuselah, how soon would even such a lease expire ! Extend it if you please still further, and let it be co-exis- tent with nature itself. How inconsidera- ble is the addition ; for, yet a very little while, and the commissioned archangel lifts up his hand to heaven, and swears by the almighty name, that time shall be no lon- ger.* Then, abused opportunities will never return, and new opportunities will never more be offered. Then should negli- * This alludes to the beginning of Revelations, chap. 10 ; which abstracted from its spiritual meaning, and eonsidered only as a stately piece of machinery, well deserves our attention ; and I will venture to say has not its superior, perhaps not its equal in any of the most celebrated masters of Greece and Rome. — All that is gloomy or beautiful in the atmosphere, all that is striking or ma^iificent in every element, is taken to heighten the idea. Vet nothing is dispro portionate, but an uniform air of ineffable majesty, greatens, exalts, and ennobles the whole. Be pleased to iibserye the aspect of this august personage; all the brightness of the sun shines in his countenance, and all the rage of the fire burns in his feet. See his ap- parel ; the clouds compose his robe, and the drajiery of the sky floats upon his shoulders ; the rainbow forms his diadem, and that which "compasseth the heaven with a glorious circle," is the ornament of his head. Behold his attitude; one foot stands on the ocean, the other rests on the land. The %vide ex- tended earth and the world of waters, serve as pedes- tals for those mighty columns. Consider the action ; his hand is lifted up to the height of the stars. He speaks, and the regions of the firmament echo with the migl'.ty accents, as the midnight desert resounds with the lion's roar. The artillery of the skies is dis- charged at the signal ; a peal of sevenfold thunders spreads the alarm, and prepares the universe to receive his orders. To finish all, and give the highest gran- deur, as well as the utmost solemnity to the represen- tation, hear the decree that issues from his mouth. He swears by Him that liveth for ever and ever. In whatever manner so majestic a person had expressed himself, he could not fail of commanding universal attention. But wlien ha confirms his speech by a most sacred and inviolable oath, we are not only wrapt up in silent suspense, bu* overwhelmed with the profoundest awe. He swears that time shall be no longer ! Was ever voice so full of terror ; so big with wonder ! It proclaims not the fall of empires, but the final period of things. It strikes otf the v/heelsof nature; bids ages and genera ions cease to roll ; and, with one potent word consigns a whole world over to dissolution. This is one .among a multitude of very sublime and misteriy strokes to be found in that too much neglecte.l book, the l.ible. gent mortals wish, wish ever so passionate- ly for a few hours, a few moments only, to be thrown back from the opening eternity, thousands of worlds would not be able to procure the grant. Shall I now be industrious to shorten what is no longer than a span, or to quick- en the pace of what is ever on the wing ? Shall I squander away what is unutterably important while it lasts, and when once de- parted, is altogether irrevocable ? O ! my soul forbear the folly, forbear the desperate extravagance. Wilt thou chide as a loiter- er the arrow that boundeth from the string, or sweep away diamonds, as the refuse of thy house ? Throw time away ! astonishing, ruinous, irreparable profuseness ! Throw empires away, and be blameless ; but, O ! be parsimonious of thy days ; husband thy pre- cious hours. They go connected, indissolu- bly connected, with heaven or hell. * Im- proved, they are a sure pledge of everlasting glory; wasted, they are a sad preface to never ending confusion and anguish. What a profound silence has composed the world ! So profound is the silence, that my very breath seems a noise ; the ticking of my watch is distinctly heard ; if I do but stir, it creates a disturbance. There is now none of that confused din from the tumul- tuous city ; no voice of jovial rustics from the neighbouring meadow ; no chirping me- lody from the shady thicket. Every lip is sealed ; not the least whisper invades the air ; nor the least motion rustles among the boughs. Echo herself sleeps unmolested. The expanded ear, though all attention, catches no sound but the liquid lapse of a distant murmuring stream. AH things are hush'd, as nature's self lay dead. If, in the midst of this deep and universal composure, ten thousand bellowing tlmnders should burst over my head, and rend the skies with their united voUies, how should I bear so unexpected a shock ? It wotild stun my senses, and confound my thoughts. I should shudder in every limb, perhaps sink to the earth with terror. Consider then, O mortals ! consider the much more prodigious and amazing cull which will ere long alarm your sleeping bones. When the tenants of the tomb have slumbered in the most undisturbed repose, for a midtitude of • I remember to have seen upon a sun-dial in a physician's garden at Northampton, the following in- scription, which, I think, is the most proper motto for the instrument that measures our time, and the most striking admonition which can possibly be pre- sented to every eye that glances upon it; ab hoc mo- menta pendet cternitas. The weighty sense of «'liich I know not how to express in English more happily than in those words ot Dr. Watts : Good God ! on what a slender thread (Or, on what a moment of time) Hang everlasting things ! ON THE NIGHT. 77 ages ; what an inconceivable consternation must the shout of the archangel, and the trump of God occasion ! will it not wound the ear of the ungodly, and affright even to dis- traction, the impenitent sinner? The stupen- dous peal will sound through the vast expanse of heaven, will shake the foiuidations of na- ture, and pierce even the deepest recesses of the grave. And how, O ! how will the pri- soners of divine justice he able to endure that tremendous summons to a far more tremendous tribunal ? Do thou, my soul, listen to the still voice of the gospel. At- tend in this thy day, to the gracious invita- tions of thy Savioiu-. Then shall that great midnight cry lose its horror, and be music in thy ears. It shall be welcome to thy reviving clay, as the tidings of liberty to the dungeon captive, as the year of Jubilee to the harassed slave. This, this shall be its charming import, " Awake and sing, ye that dwell in the dust." (Isa. xxvi. 19.) Wliat a general cessation of affairs has this dusky hoiu: introduced ! A little while ago, all was hurry, hurry ; life and activity exerted themselves in a thousand busy forms ; the city swarmed with passing and repassing multitudes ; all the country was sweat and dust ; the air floated in perpetual agitation, by the flitting birds, and famiming bees. Art sat prying with her piercing eyes, while industry plied her restless hands. But see how all this fervent and impetuous bustle is fled with the setting sun. The beasts are sunk to their grassy couch ; and the winged people are retired to their downy nests . The hammer has resigned its sound- ing task, and the file ceases to repeat its fly- ing touches. Shut is the well frequented shop, and its threshold no longer worn by the feet of numerous customers. The vil- lage swain lies drowned in slumbers ; and even his trusty dog, who for a considerable time stood sentry at the door, is extended at his ease, and snores with his master. In every place, toil reclines her head, and ap- plication folds her arms. All interests seem to be forgot ; all pursuits are suspend- ed ; all employment is sunk away — sunk away with those fluttering myriads which lately sported in the sun's departing rays. It is like the Sabbath of universal nature, or as though the pulse of life stood still. Thus will it be mth our infinitely mo- mentous concerns, when once the shadows of the evening (that long evening which follows the footsteps of death) are stretch ed over us. The dead cannot seek unto God ; the living, the living alone, are pos- sessed of this inestimable opportunity.*^ " Behold ! now is the accepted time. Behold ! now is the day of salvation. 2 Cor. vi. 2. Haste, haste, he lies in wait, he's at the door. Insidious death ! Should his strong hand arrest. No composition sets the prisoner free. " There is no work or device, no repentance or amendment, in the grave,* whither we are all hasting." When once that closing scene is advanced, we shall have no other part to act on this earthly theatre. Then the sluggard, who has slumbered away life in a criminal inactivity, must lie dowii in hopeless distress and everlasting son'ow. Then that awful doom will take place ; " He that is holy, let him be holy still ; and he that is filthy, let him be filthy for ever. Is it so, my soid ? Is this the only, only time allotted for obtaining the great reward, and making thy salvation sure ? and art thou lulled in a vain security, or dreaming in a supine inadvertency? Start, O ! start from, thy trance. Gird up the loins of thy mind, and work while it is day. Improve the present seed-time, that eternity may yield a joyful harvest We especially, who are watchmen in Israel, and ministers of the glorious gospel ; may we be awakened, by this consideration, to all assiduity in our holy office ! Some or other of our people are ever and anon departing into the invisi- ble state ; all our friends are making inces- sant approaches to their long home ; and we ourselves shall very shortly be transmit- ted to the confinement of the tomb. This is the favourable juncture wherein alone we can contribute to their endless welfare. This is the crisis, the aU-important crisis of their final felicity. Instantly, therefore, let us pour in our wholesome instructions ; instantly let us ply them with our earnest exhortations. A moment's delay may be an irreparable loss ; may be irretrievable ruin. While we procrastinate a fatal stroke may intervene, and place us beyond the power of administering, or place them beyond all possibility of receiving, any spi- ritual good.f * They who are gone down to the grave are repre- sented, Isa. xxxviii. 11, by the phrase, rendered by Vitringa, those that inhabit the land of intermission or cessation ; which prevents all appearance of tau- tology in the sentence ; and is, I think, a valuable im- provement of the translation, as it conveys an idea not only distinct from the preceding, but of a very poe- tical and very afflicting nature ; such as was perfectly natural for the royal smger and royal sufferer to dwell upon in his desponding moments. Thus interpreted, the sense will run; "I shall see man no more; I shall be cut off" from the cheerful ways of men, and all the sweets of human society ; and, what is a fur- ther aggravation of the threatened stroke, I shall, by its taking place, be numbered with those that inherit the land of cessation and inactivity ; where there will he no more possibility of contributing to the happi- ness of my kingdom ; no more opportunity of ad- vancing my Creator's glory, or of making my own final Stuvation sure." A sentiment like this is grand, important, and full of benevolence ; removes all sus- picion of unbecoming pusillanimity, and does the highest honour to the monarch's character. t The case represented by the prophet (1 Kings XX. 40.) seems perfectly applicable on this occasion. As thy servant was busy here and there, he was gone. So, while we are either remiss in our function, or laying ourselves out upon inferior cares, the people of our charge may be gone ;— gone beyond the influ- ence of our counsels ; beyond the reach of our pray- ers ; gone into the unchangeable and eternal state. 78 CONTEMPLATIONS How frequently is the face of nature changed ; and by changing made more agreeable ! The long continued glitter of the day renders the soothing shades of the evening doubly welcome. Nor does the morn ever purple the east with so engaging a lustre, as after the gloom of a dai'k and dismal night. At present a calm of tran- quillity is spread through the universe. The weary wnds have forgot to blow. The gentle gales have fanned themselves asleep. Not so much as a single leaf nods. Even the quivering aspen rests. And not one breath curls over the stream. Some- times, on the contrary, the tempest sum- mons all the forces of the air, and poiurs it- self with resistless fury from the angry north. The whole atmosphere is tossed into tumultuous confusion, and the watery world is heaved to the clouds. The as- tonished mariner, and his straining vessel, now scale the rolling mountain, and hang dreadfully visible on the broken surge ; now shoot with headlong impetuosity into the ya\%'ning gulf, and neither hulk nor mast is seen. The storm sweeps over the continent ; raves along the city streets ; struggles through the forest boughs ; and terrifies the savage nations Mdth a ho\^'l more wildly horrid than their own. The knotty oaks bend before the blast ; their iron trunks groan, and their stubborn limbs are dashed to the ground. The lofty dome rocks ; and even the solid tower totters on its basis. Such variations are kindly contrived, and with an evident condescension to the fickleness of our taste. Because a perpe- tual repetition of the same objects would create satiety and disgust ; therefore the indulgent Father of our race has diA'ersified the universal scene, and bid eveiy appear- ance bring with it the charm of novelty. This circumstance is beneficial, as well as entertaining. Providence, ever gracious to mortals, ever intent upon promoting our felicity, has taken care to mingle, in the constitution of things, what is pleasing to our imagination with what is serviceable to our interests. The piercing winds, and rugged aspect of winter, render the balmy gales and flowery scenes of spring peculiar- ly delightful. At the same time, the keen frosts mellow the soil, and prepare it for the hand of industry. The rushing rains impregnate the glebe, and fit it to become the magazine of plenty. The earth is a great laboratory ; and December's cold col- lects the gross materials, which are subli- mated by the refining warmth of May. The air is a pure elastic fluid ; and were it always to remain in this motionless seren- ity, it would lose much of its active spring : were it never agitated by those wholesome concus.sions, it would contract a noisome, perhaps a pestilential taint. In which cases, our respiration, instead of purifying, would corrupt the vital juices ; instead of supplying us with refreshment, would be a source of diseases ; or every gasp we drew might be unavoidable death. * How then should we admire, how should we adore, that happy union of benignity and wisdom, which, from a variety of dispensations, pro- duces an unifonnity of good ! produces a perpetual succession of delights, and an uninterrupted series of advantages. The darkness is now at its height ; and I cannot but admire the obliging manner of its taking place. It comes, not with a blunt and abrupt incivility, but makes gen- tle and respectful advances. A precipitate transition from the splendours of day to all the horrors of midnight would be inconve- nient and frightful. It would bewilder the traveller in his journey ; it would strike the creation with amazement ; and perhaps be pernicious to the organs of sight. There- fore the gloom rushes not upon us instan- taneously, but increases by slow degrees ; and sending twilight before as its harbinger, decently advertises us of its approach. By this means we are neither alarmed nor in- commoded by the change ; but are able to take all suitable and timely measures for its reception. Thus graciously has Provi- dence regulated, not only the grand vicissi- tudes of the seasons, but also the common interchanges of light and darkness, with an apparent reference to our comfort. Now, the fierce inhabitants of the forest forsake their dens. A thousand grim forms, a thousand growling monsters pace the de- sert. Death is in their jaws, while, stimg with hunger and athirst for blood, they roam their nightly rounds. Unfortunate the traveller who is overtaken by the night in those dismal wilds ! how must he stand aghast at the mingled yell of ravenous throats, and lions roaring after their prey ! Defend him, propitious heaven ! or else he must see his endearing spouse, and haO his native home no more ! — Now the prowling * Considering the immense quantity of coals, and other combustible materials which are daily consum- ed, and evaporate into the air ; considering the numberless streams, and clouds of smoke, which al- most continually overwhelm populous cities ; the noisome exhalations which arise from thronged in- firmaries and loathsome jails, from stagnating lakes and putrid fens; the variety of offensive and un- wholesome effluvia, which proceed from other causes : it is a very remarkable instance of a Provi- dence at once tenderly kind and infinitely powerful, that mankind is not suffocated with stench, that the air is not choked with filth. The air is the common sewer into which ten thousand times ten thousand nuisances are incessantly discharged; yet it is pre- served so thoroughly clear, as to afford the most transparent medium for vision ; so delicately undu- latory, as to transmit, with all imaginable distinct- ness, every diversity of sound ; so perfectly pure, as to be the constant refiner of the fluids in every ani- mal that breathes. ON THE NIGHT. 79 wolf, like a murderous ruffian, dogs the shepherd's footsteps, and besets his bleat- ing charge. The fox, like a crafty felon, steals to the thatched cottage, and carries off the feathered booty. Happy for the world, were these the only destroyers that walk in darkness. But, alas ! there are savages in human shape, who, muffled in shades, infest the abodes of civilized life. The sons of violence make choice of this season* to perpetrate the most outrageous acts of wrong and robbery. The adulterer waiteth for the twilight; and, baser than the villain on the highway, betrays the honour of his bosom friend. Now faction forms her close cabals, and whispers her traiterous insinuations. Now rebellion plans her accursed plots, and pre- pares the train to blow a nation into ruin. Now crimes, which hide their odious heads in the day, haunt the seats of society, and stalk through the gloom with audacious front. Now the vermin of the stews crawl from their lurking-holes to wallow in sin, and spread contagion through the night. Each soothing himself with the fond no- tion, that all is safe, that no eye sees. ^re they then concealed? Preposterous madmen ! to draw the curtain between their infamous practices and a little set of mortals, but lay them open to all these chaste and wakeful eyes of heaven !f as though the moon and stars were made to light men to their revels, and not to God. Are they then concealed ? No, truly. Was every one of these vigilant luminaiies clos- ed, an eye keener than the lightning's flash, an eye brighter than ten thousand suns, beholds their every motion. Their thick- est shades are beaming dayj: to the jealous Inspector and supreme Judge of human actions. Deluded creatures ! have ye not beard, have ye not read, " That clouds and darkness are his majestic residence?" (Psa. xcvii. 2. In that very gloom to which you fly for covert, he erects his throne. What you reckon yoiu- screen is the bar of his tribunal. Oh, remember this ! stand in awe and sin not. Remember that the great and terrible God is about your path§ -When night Darkens the streets, then wander forth the sons Of Belial, flown with insolence and wine. — Milt. f Sed luna videt, sed sidera testes Intendunt oculos. ^ This is finely, and very forcibly expressed by the Psalmist : " If I say, peradventure the darkness shall cover me, then shall my night be turned to day ;" or as it may be rendered somewhat more emphatically, Even the night shall be broad day-light all around me. Psalm cxxxix. 11. § The original words are much stronger than the translation ; signifying, Thou sif test ray path ; and art familiarly or intimately acquainted with all my ways. The former, I apprehend, denoting the exact cognizance which the Almighty taketh, the latter im- plying the constant inspection which he exerciseth, over all the circumstancee of our conduct, Psalm cxxxix. 3. when you take your midnight range ; is about your bed, when you indulge the loose desire ; and spies out all your ways, be they ever so secretly conducted, or art- fully disguised. Some minutes ago, a passenger crossed along the road. His horse's foot struck the ground, and fetched fire from a flint. My eye, though at a distance, catehed the view ; and saw with great clearness the transient sparkles, of which, had I been ever so near, I should not have discerned the least glimpse under the blaze of day.* So, when sickness has drawn a veil over the gaiety of out hearts ; when misfortunes have eclips- ed the splendour of our outward circum- stances ; how many important convictions present themselves with the brightest evi- dence ! Under the sunshine of prosperity they lay undiscovered ; but, when some in- tervening cloud has darkened the scene, they emerge from their obscurity, and even glit- ter upon our minds. Then the world, that delusive cheat, confesses her emptiness ; but Jesus, the bright and morning star, beams forth with inimitable lustre. Then \dce loses all her fallacious allurements ; that painted strumpet is horrible as the hags of hell ; but virtue, despised virtue, gains love- liness from a louring providence, and treads the shades with more than mortal charms. May this reconcile me, and all the sons of sorrow to our appointed share of suffering? If tribulation tend to dissipate the inward darkness, and pour heavenJy day upon oiu- minds ; welcome distress, welcome disap- pointment, welcome whatever our froward flesh, or peevish passions, would miscall ca- lamities. These light afflictions which are but for a moment, shall sit easy upon our spi- rits ; since they befriend our knowledge, promote our faith, and so work out for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory. f * I beg leave to inform the young gentleman, whose name dignifies my Dedication, that this was a remark of his honoured father, when we rode toge- ther, and conversed in a dusky evening. I mention this circumstance, partly to secure the paragraph from contempt ; partly to give him and the world an idea of that eminently serious taste which distinguished my deceased friend. The less obvious the reflection, the more clearly it discovers a turn of mind remarka- bly spiritual, which would sufier nothing to escape, without yielding some religious improvement. The meaner the incident, the more acimirable was that fertility of imagination, which could deduce the su- blimest truths from the most trivial occurrences. t 2 Cor. iv, 17. The great Stephens, that oracle of Grecian learning, translates our apostle's phrase — xa^ yTig€aX»v, Quo nihil magisdici aut fingi po- test. But how does the sense rise ! how is the idea enlarged, under two such forcible expressions ! The whole verse is a master-piece of the beautiful antithe- sis, the lively description, and the nervous diction. It is one of those exquisite passages in the inspired writings, which, like some rich aromatic plants, can- not be transferred from their own generous and na- tive soil, without being impaired in their vivacity, and losing much of their delicacy. Perhaps, the fol- lowing version may be somewhat less injurious to the CONTEMPLATIONS How has tliis diukness snatched every splended and graceful object from my sight; It ha; dashed the sponge over the pictures of spring, and destroyed all the delicate dis- tinctions of things. Where are now the fine tinges, which so lately charmed me from the glowing parterre ? The blush is struck out from the cheeks of the rose ; and the snowy hue is dropt from the lily. I cast my eyes toward a magnificent seat : but the aspiring columns, and fair expanded front, are mingled in rude confusion. Without the sun, all the elegance of the blooming world, is a mere blank ; all the symmetry of architectiu-e is a shapeless heap. Is not this an expressive emblem of the loveliness which the Sun of Righteousness transfuses into all that is amiable ! Was it not for Jesus and his merits, I should sigh with anguish of spirit, even while I rove through ranks of the most beautiful flowers or breathe amidst a wilderness of sweets. Was it not for Jesus and his merits, I should roam like some disconsolate spectre, even through the smiles of creation, and the caresses of fortune. My conversation in this world, though dressed in the most engaging forms of external pleasure, would be like the pas- sage of a condemned malefactor, through enamelled meadows and bowers of bliss, to be broke upon the wheel, or to expire on the rack. But a daily reflection on the Lamb's atoning blood ; a comfortable trust that my soul is reconciled through this di- vine expiation ; this is the ray, the golden ray, which irradiates the face of the universe. This is the oil of beauty, which makes all things wear a cheerful aspect ; and the oil of gladness, which disposes the spectator to behold them with delight. * This, this is the sacred charm, which teacheth nature in all her prospects, in all her productions, so exquisitely to please. " Man goeth forth to his work, and to his laboiu-, till the evening ;" but then his strength fails, his spirits flag, and he stands in need, not only of some respite from toil, bat of some kindly and sovereign refresh- sacred original than the common translation : — Our Tery light affliction, which is but just for the present moment, worketh out a far more exceeding, and in- comparably great, and eternal weight of glory. * Thus applied, that fine piece of flattery, addressed to the Heathen emperor, is strictly and literally true. -: — Vultus ubi tuns Affulsit populo, gratior it dies, Et soles melius uitent. — Hoi-at. Which I would cast in a Christian mould, and tlius translate : When faith presents the Saviour's death. And whispers " This is thine," Sweetly my rising hours advance. And peacefully decline. While such my views, the radiant sun Sheds a more sprightly ray : Each object smiles; all nature charms; I sing my cares away. ments. WTiat an admirable provision for this purpose is sleep ! Sleep introduces a most welcome vacation, both for the soul and body. The exercises of the brain, and the labours of the hands, are at once discon- tinued. So that the weary limbs repair their exhausted vigour ; whDe the pensive thoughts drop their load of sorrows, and the busy ones rest from the fatigue of ap- plication. Most reviving cordial ! equally beneficial to our animal and intellectual powers. It supplies the fleshly machine, and keeps all its nice movements in a pro- per postiu-e for easy play. It animates the thinking faculties with fresh alacrity, and rekindles their ardour for the studies of the dawn. Without these enlivening recruits, how soon woidd the most robust constitu- tion be wasted into a walking skeleton ; and the most learned sage degenerate into a hoary idiot ! Some time ago I beheld with siu-prise poor Florio. His air was wild ; his countenance meagre, his thoughts rov- ing, and speech disconcerted. Inquiring the cause of this strange alteration, I was informed, that for several nights he had not closed his eyes in sleep. For want of which noble restorative, that sprightly youth (who was once the life of the discourse, and the darling of the company) is become a spec- tacle of misery and horror. How many of my fellow-creatures are at this very instant confined to the bed of languishing, and complaining with that Ulustrious sufferer of old, wearisome nights are appointed to me ! (Job vii. 3.) Instead of indulging soft re- pose, they are counting the tedious hours, telling every striking clock, or measuring the very moments by their throbbing pulse. How many, harassed with pain, most pas- sionately long to make some little truce with their agonies in peacefid slumbers ! How many, sick with disquietude, and rest- less even on their downy pillows, woidd purchase this transient oblivion of their woes almost at any rate I That which wealth cannot procure, which multitudes sigh for in vain, thy God has bestowed on thee times out of niunber. The welcome visitant, punctual at the needed horn', has entered thy chamber, and poiu-ed his pop- pies round thy couch ; has gently closed thine eye-lids, and shed his slumberous dews over all thy senses. Since sleep is so absolutely necessary, so inestimably valuable, observe what a fine apparatus almighty goodness has made to accommodate us with the balmy blessing ! With how kind a precaution, he removes whatever might obstruct its access, or im- pede its influence ! He draws around us the curtain of darkness ; which inclines us to a drowsy indolence, and conceals every object that might too strongly agitate the sense. He conveys peace into our apart- ON THE NIGHT. 81 meiits, and imposes silence on the wliole creation. Every animal is bid to tread softly, or rather to cease from its motion, when man is retiring to his repose. May we not discern, in this gracious disposition of things, the tender cares of a nursing-mo- ther, who hushes every noise, and secludes every disturbance, when she has laid the child of her love to rest. So, by such soothing circumstances, and gen tly working opiates, he giveth to his beloved sleep. (Fsalm cxxvii. '2.) Another signal instance of a providence iitent upon our welfare is, that we are pre- served safe in the hours of slumber. How are we then lost to all apprehension of danger ; even though the murderer be at our bed side, or his naked sword at our breast ! Destitute of all concern for our- selves, we are unable to think of, much more to provide for, our ownsccmity. At these moments, therefore, we lie open to in. numerable perils : perils from the resistless rage of flames ; perils from the insidious artifices of thieves, or the outrageous vio- lence of robbers ; perils from the irregular workings* of our own thoughts, and espe- cially from the incursions of our spiritual enemy. What dreadful mischief might that rest- less, that implacable adversary of mankind work, M'as there not an invisible hand to control his rage, and protect poor mortals ! What scenes of horror might he represent to our imaginations, and " scare us with dreams, or terrify us with visions !"f But * I think it is referable only to a superintending and watchful providence, that we are not hurried in- to the most pernicious actions, when our imagination is heated, and our reason stupi tied by dreams. We have sometimes heard of unfortunate persons, who, walking in their sleep, have thrown themselves head- long from a window, aiid bt'en dashed to death on the pebbles. And whence is it that such disastrous acci- dents are only related as pieces of news, not exper- ienced by ourselves or our families ? \\ ere our minds more sober in their operations, or more circumspect in their regards ? No verily, nothing could be more wild titan their excursions, and none could be more inattentive to their own welfare. Therefore, if we have laid us down, and slept in peace, it was because the Lord vouchsafed us the sweet refreshment ; if we rose again in safety, it was because the Lord sustain- ed us with his unremitted protection. Will the candid reader excuse me, if I add a short story, or rather matter of fact, suitable to the pre- ceding remark ? Two persons who had been hunting together in the day, slept together the following night. One of them was renewmg the pursuit in his dream ; and, having run the whole circle of the chase, came at last to the fall of the stag. Upon this, he cries out with a detennined ardour, I'll kill him ; I'll kill him ; and immediately feels for the knife, which he carried in his pocket. His companion happening to be awake, and observing what passed, lejiped from the bed : being secure from danger, and the moon shining into the room, he stood to view the event ; when, to his inexpressible suqirise, the infatuated sportsman gave several deadly stabs, in the very place, where, amoment before, the throatand the lite of his friend lay. This I mention as a proof that nothing hinders us, even from being assassms of others, or murderers of ourselves, amidst the mad sailies of sleep — but the preventing care of our hea- venly Father. t What a complete master that malignant spirit IS Ui exliibiiing visionary repre.ientations, appears the Keeper of Israel, who never slumbers nor sleeps, interposes in our behalf, at once to cherish us under his wings, and to de- fend us with a shield. It is said of Solo- mon, "that threescore valiant men were about his bed, all expert in war ; eveiy one with his sword upon his thigh, because of fear in the night ;" ( Song iii. 7,8.) but one greater than Solomon, one mightier than myriads of armed hosts, even the great Jehovah, in whom is everlasting strength, vouchsafes to encamp about our houses, watch over our sleeping minutes, and to stop all the aven- ues of ill. O ! the unwearied and condes- cending goodness of our Creator ! who lulls us to our rest by bringing on the silent shades ; and plants his own ever-watchful eye as oiu: sentinel, while we enjoy the needful repose. Reason now resigns her sedate office, and fancy, extravagant fancy, leads the mind through a maze of vanity. The head is crowned with false images, and tantaliz- ed with the most ridiculous misapprehen- sions of things. Some are expatiating amidst i'airy fields and gathering garlands of visionaiy bliss, while their bodies ai'e stretched on a wisp of straw, and shelter- ed by the cobwebs of a barn. Others, quite insensible of their rooms of state, are mourning in a doleful dungeon, or strug- gling with the raging billows. Perhaps, with hasty steps, they climb the craggy cliff, and \\'ith real anxiety fly from the imagi- nary danger ; or else, benumbed with sud . den fear, and finding themselves unable to escape, they give up at once their hopes and their etforts ; and, though reclined on a couch of ivory, are sinking, all helpless and distressed, in the furious whirlpool. So unaccountable are the vagaries of the brain, while sleep maintains its dominion over the limbs. But is this the only season when absurd and incoherent irregularities play their ma- gic on our minds ? Are there not those who dream even in their waking moments ? — Some piide themselves in a notion of superior excellency, because the royal fa^- vour has annexed a few splendid titles to their names, or because the dying silk-Morm has bequeathed her finest threads to cover their nakedness. Others congratulate their own signal happiness, because loads of golden lumber are amassed together in their coffers; or promise themselves a most superlative felicity indeed, when some thousands more are added to the useless heap Nor are there wanting others, who gape after substantial satisfaction from airy from his conduct towards Christ on the high inoun- tain ; and that he is too readv, if not restrained by an over-ruling power, to employ his dexterity m afflict- ing inankind, is evident from his treatment of Job, See 1-ukeiv. 5. Job vii. 14. 82 CONTEMPLATIONS applause : and flatter themselves with I know not what immortality, in the mo- mentary buzz of renown. Are any of these a whit more reasonable in their opin- ions, thar the poor ragged wretch in his reveries, who while snoring under a hedge, exults in the possession of his stately palace and sumptuous furniture ? If persons who are very vassals to their own domineering passions, and led captive by numberless temptations ; if these per- sons pique themselves with a conceit of their liberty, and fancy themselves the ge- nerous and gallant spirits of the age ; where is the difference between theirs and the madman's frenzy, who though chained to the floor, is throned in thought, and wield- ing an imaginary sceptre? In a word, as many as borrow their dignity from a plume of feathers, or the gaudy trappings of for- tune ; as many as send their souls to seek for bliss in the blandishments of sense, or in any thing short of the divine favour, and a well grounded hope of the incorruptible inheritance ; * what are they, but di-eamers with their eyes open — delirious, though in hefdth ? Woxdd you see their picture drawn to the very life, and the success of their schemes calculated with the utmost exact- ness ; cast your eye upon that fine repre- sentation exhibited by the prophet : " It shall be even as when a hungry man dream- eth, and behold he eateth ; but he awaketh, and his soul is empty ; or, as when a thirsty man dreameth, and behold he drink- eth ; but he awaketh, and behold he is faint, and his soul hath appetite; (Isa. xxix. 8. Such is the race, and such the prize, of all those candidates for honour and joy, who run wide from the mark of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus. They live in vanity, and die in woe. Awaken us, merciful Lord, from these noon -tide trances ! Awaken us, while con- viction may turn to our advantage, and not serve only to increase our torment. O ! let our " eyes be enlightened to discern the things that are excellent," and no longer be imposed upon by fantastic appearances, which, however pompous they may seem, will prove more empty than the visions of the night, more transient than the dream that is forgotten. Having mentioned sleep and dreams, let me once again consider those remarkable in- cidents of our frame ; so very remarkable, that I may venture to call them a kind of experimental mystery, and little less than a standing miracle. Behold the most vigo- rous constitution when stretched on the bed of ease, and totally resigned to the slumbers These give a sacred and home felt delight, A sober certainty of waking bliss. — Milt. Comus. of the night : its activity is oppressed with fetters of indolence ; its strength is con- signed over to a temporary' annihilation ; the nerves are like a bow unstrung, and the whole animal system is like a motionless log. Behold a person of the most delicate sensations, and amiable dispositions : his eyes, though thrown wide open, admit not the visual ray, at least distinguish not ob- jects : his ears, with the organs unimpaired, and articulate accents beating upon the drum, perceive not the sound, at least ap- prehend not the meaning. The senses, and their exquisitely fine feelings, are over- whelmed with an unaccoinitable stupefac- tion. YoTi call him a social creature : but where are his social affections ? He knows not the father that begat him, and takes no notice of the friend that is as his own soul. The wife of his bosom may expire by his side, and he lie more unconcerned than a barbarian. The children of his body may be tortured with the severest pangs, and he, even in the same chamber, remain untouch- ed with the least commiseration. Behold the most ingenious scholar, whose judgment is piercing, and able to trace the most in- tricate difficulties of science ; his taste re- fined, and quick to relish all the beauties of sentiment and composition : yet, at this juncture, the thinking faculties are unhing- ed, and the intellectual economy quite dis- concerted. Instead of close connected rea- sonings, nothing but a disjointed huddle of absurd ideas ; instead of well-digested prin- ciples, nothing but a disorderly jumble of crude conceptions : the most palpable de- lusions impose upon his imagination. The whole night passes, and he frequently mis- takes it for a single minute ; is not sensible of the transition, hardly sensible of any du- ration. Yet, no sooner does the morning draw back his curtains, and day-light fill the room, but he awakes, and finds himself possessed of all the valuable endowments, which, for several hours were suspended or lost- His sinews are braced, and fit for action ; his senses are alert and keen. The romantic visionary brightens into the mas- ter of reason. The frozen or benumbed aflfections melt with tenderness, and glow with benevolence ; and, what is beyond mea- sure surprising, the intoxicated mind works itself sober, not by slow degrees, but in the twinkling of an eye recovers from its per- turbation. Why does not the stujior which deadens all the nice operations of the aiu- mal powers hold fast its possession ? When the thoughts are once disadjusted, why are they not always in confusion ? How is it that they arc rallied in a moment ; and, from the wildest irregularity, reduced to the most orderly array ? PVom an inactivity re- sembling death, how is the body so sud- ON THE NIGHT. 83 denly restored to vigour and agility ? From extravagancies bordering upon madness, how is the understanding instantaneously re-established in sedateness and harmony ? Surely, " this is the Lord's doing, and it should be marvellous in our eyes ;" should awaken oiu" gratitude, and inspirit our praise. This is the time in which ghosts are sup- posed to make their appearance. Now the timorous imagination teems with phantoms, and creates immberless terrors to itself. Now dreary forms, in sullen state, stalk along the gloom ; or, swifter than lightning, glide across the shades. Now voices more than mortal* are heard from the echoing vaults, and groans issue from the hollow tombs. Now melancholy spectres visit the ruins of ancient monasteries, and frequent the solitary dwellings of the dead. They pass and repass, in unsubstantial images, along the forsaken galleries ; or take their determined stand over some lamented grave. How often has the school-boy fetched a long circuit, and trudged many a needless step, in order to avoid the haunted church- j-ard ! Or if necessity, sad necessity, has obliged him to cross the spot, where human skulls are lodged below, and the baleful yews shed supernumerary horrors above : a thousand hideous stories rush into his memory ; fear adds wings to his feet ; he scarce touches the ground ; dares not once look behind him ; and blesses his good for- tune, if no frightful sound purred at his heels, if no ghastly shape bolted upon his sight. It is strange to observe the excessive timidity which possesses many people's minds on this fanciful occasion, while they are void of all concern on others of the most tremendous import. Those who are startled, in any dark and lonely walk, at the very apprelienson of a single spectre, are nevertheless unimpressed at the sure pro- spect of entering into a whole world of disembodied beings ; nay, are without any emotions of awe, though they know them- selves to be hastening into the presence of the great, infinite, and eternal Spirit. Should some pale messenger from the re- gions of the dead draw back our curtains at the hoiu* of midnight, and, appointing some particular place, say, as the horrid appari- tion to Brutus, /'// meet thee there !f, I believe the boldest heart would feel some- thing like a panic ; would seriously think upon the adventure, and be in pain for * Vox quoque per lucos vulgo exaiidita sileiites Ingens, et simulacra modis palleutia miris Visa sub obscurum noctis. — Fii-g. t The story of Brutus and his evil genius, is well known. Nor must it be deemed, that the precise words of the spectre to the hero were, I'll meet thee at Phillippi. But as this would not answer my pur- pose, I was obliged to make an alteration in the cir- cumstance of place. the event. But when a voice from hea- ven cries, in the awakening language of tlie pro])het. Prepare to meet thy God, O Israel; (Amos iv. 12.) how little is the warning regarded ! how soon is it for- got ! Preposterous stupidity ! to be utterly unconcerned, where it is the truest wisdom to take the alarm ; and to be all trepidation, where there is nothing really terrible. Do thou, my soul, remember thy Saviour's ad- monition ; " I will forewarn you whom you shall fear : Fear not these imaginary hor- rors of the night ; but fear that awful being, whose revelation of himself, though with expressions of peculiar mercy, made Moses, his favourite servant, tremble exceedingly ; whose manifestation, when he appears with piuTJOses of inexorable vengeance, will make mighty conquerors, who were familiar with dangers and estranged to dismay, call upon the moim tains to fall on them, and the rocks to cover them ! the menace of whose ma- jestic eye, when he comes attended with thousand thousands of his immortal hosts, ^^'ill make the very heavens cleave asunder, and the earth flee away. O ! dread his displeasure ; secure his favour ; and then thou mayest commit all thy other anxieties to the wind ; thou mayest laugh at every other fear." This brings to my mind a memorable and amazing occiurence, recorded in the book of Job ; (Job iv. 12, 14, &c.) which is, I think, no inconsiderable proof of the real existence of apparitions* on some very extraordinary emergencies, while it discoun- tenances those legions of idle tales, which superstition has raised and credulity receiv- ed ; since it teaches us, that if at any time those visitants from the unknown world render themselves perceivable by mortals, it is not upon any errand of frivolous con- sequence, but to convey intelligence of the utmost moment, or to work impressions of the highest advantage. * Is a proof of the real existence of apparitions, if the sense in which I have always understood this pas- sage be true. — Eliphaz, I apprehend, was neither in a trance nor in a dream, but perfectly awake. — Though he speaks of sleep, he speaks of it as fallen not upon himself, but upon other men. He does not mention dreams, though somnia would have si'.ited the verse (if the book be in metre) altogether as well as visions. It could not surely be a wind, as some translate the word ; because the circumstance of standing still is not so compatible with the nature of a wind ; and a wind would have passed above him, all around him, as well as before him : not to add, how low a remark it is, and how unworthy of a place in so august a description, that he could not discern the form of a wind. — It seems, therefore, to have been a real spirit; either angelical, as were those which presented themselves to Abraham resting at the door of his tent, and to Lot sitting in the gate of Sodom; or else the spirit of some departed saint, as in the case of Samuel's apparition, or the famous ap- pearance of Moses and Elijah on the mount of trans- figuration ; a spirit assuming some vehicle, in order to become visible to the human eye ; which, accord- ingly, Eliphaz saw, exhibiting itself as an object of sight, but saw so obscurely and indistinctly, that he was not able to describe its aspect, or to discern whom it resembled. 84 CONTEMPLATIONS It was in the dead of night : all nature lay shrouded in darkness : Every creature was buried in sleep : The most profound silence reigned through the universe. In these solemn moments, Eliphaz alone, all Wakeful and solitary, was musing upon sub- lime and heavenly subjects ; when, lo ! an awful being from the invisible realms burst into his apai'tment.* A spirit passed be- fore his face. Astonishment seized the be- holder ; his bones shivered within him ; his flesh trembled all over him ; and the hair of his head stood erect with horror. Sudden and unexpected was the appearance of the phantom ; not such its departure. It stood still, to present itself more fully to his view: It made a solemn pause, to prepai-e his mind for some momentous message. After which a voice was heard ; a voice, for the importance of its meaning, worthy to be had in everlasting remembrance ; for the so- lemnity of its delivery, enough to alarm a heart of stone. It spoke, and this was the purport of its words : " Shall man, frail man, be just before the mighty God ? Shall even the most accomplished of mortals be pure in the sight of his IVIaker ?f Behold, and consider it attentively : He put no such trust in his most exalted servants as should bespeak them incapable of defect ! and his very angels he charged with folly, as sinking, even in the highest perfection of their holi- ness, infinitely beneath his transcendent glories ; as falling, even in all the fidelity of their obedience, inexpressibly short of the homage due to his adorable majesty. If angelic natures must not presume to jus- tify either themselves or their services be- fore uncreated purity, how much more ab- surd is such a notion, how much more impious such an attempt, in them that dwell in houses of clay, whose original is from the dust, and whose state is all imper- fection." * I have given this solemn picture a modern dress, rather for the sal<;e of variety and illustration, than from any apprehension of improving the admirable original. Such an attempt, I am sensible, would be more absurdly van, than to lacquer gold, or to paint the diamond. The des ription in Eliphaz's own lan- guage is awful and affecting to the last degree — a night-piece, dressed in all the circumstances' of the deepest horror. I question whether Shakespeare himself, though so peculiarly happy for his great command of terrifying images, has any thing supe- rior or comparable to this. The judges of fine com- position see the masterly strokes; and I believe the most ordinary reader feels them chilling his blood, and awakening emotions of dread in his mind. t There seems to be a significant and beautiful gradation in the Hebrew, which I have endeavoured to preserve by a sort of paraphrastic version. The reader will observe anew turn given to the sentiment, preferable, I think, to that which our English trans- lation exhibits. Not, " Shall man be more just than God?" but, " ''hall man be just before, or in the sight of God ?" The passage thus rendered, speaks a truth mcomparably more weighty, and needful to be inculcated ; a truth exactly parallel to that humbling confession of the prophet, " we are all as an unclean thing;" and to that solemn declaration of the Psal- mist ; " In thy sight shall no man living be justified." I would observe from lience, the ver^ singular necessity of that poverty of spirit which entirely renounces it own attain- ments, and most thankfully submits to the righteousness of the incarnate God. To inculcate this lesson, the Son of the Bless- ed came down from heaven, and pressed no other principle with so repeated an impor- tunity on his hearers.* To instil the same doctrine, the Holy Ghost touched the lips of the apostles with sacred eloquence, and made it an eminent part of their commission " to demolish every high imagination." That no expedient might be wanting to give it a deep and lasting efficacy on the human mind, a phantom arises from the valley of the shadow of death, or a teacher descends from the habitation of spirits. Whatever then we neglect, let us not neglect to culti- vate this grace, which has been so variously taught, so powerfidly enforced. Hark ! a doleful voice. With sudden starts, and hideous screams, it disturbs the silence of the peaceful night. It is the screech-owl, sometimes in frantic, some- times in disconsolate accents, uttering her woes.f She flies the vocal grove, and shuns the society of all the feathered choir. The blooming gardens, and flowery meads, have no charms for her. Obscure shades, rag- ged ruins, and walls overgrown with ivy, are her favourite haunts. Above, tlie mouldering precipice nods, and threatens a fall ; below, the toad crawls, or the poison- ous adder hisses. The sprightly morning which awakens other animals into joy, ad- ministers no jdeasure to this gloomy re- cluse. Even the smiling face of day is her aversion, and all its lovely scenes create nothing but imeasiness. So, just so, would it fare with the ungod- ly, were it possible to suppose their admis- sion into the chaste and bright abodes of endless felicity. They would find nothing but disappointment and shame, even at the fountain-head of hajjpiness and honour. For how could the tongue habituated to profaneness, taste any delight in the har- monious adorations of heaven ? How could the lips cankered with slander, relish the raptures of everlasting praise ? Where would * It is well worthy of our observation, says an ex- cellent cominentator, that no one sentence uttered by oiu' Lord, is so frequently repeated as this ; •' Who- soever shall exa'.t himself, shall be abased; and he that shall humble himself shall be exalted," which oc- curs at least tea times in the Evangelists; but is ne- ver duly accompli -hed in us, till we disclaim all pre- tensions to merit and righteousness of our own, and seek them only in the atonement and obedience of Je- sus Christ. t Solaque culminibus ferali carmine bubo Sepequeri, longasque in fletura ducere voces. Vh-gil. Thus sung that charming genius, that prince of the ancient poets, that most consummate master of ele- gance and accuracy ; all whose sentiments are nature, whose every description is a picture, whose whole language is music. ON THE NIGHT. 85 be the satisfaction of the vain beauty, or the supercilious grandee ? Since, in the tem- ple of the skies, no incense of flattery would be addressed to the former, nor any obse- quious homage paid to the latter. The spotless and inconceivable purity of the blessed God, would flash confusion on the lascivious eye. The envious mind must be on a rack of self-tormenting passions, to ob- serve millions of happy beings shining in all the perfections of glory, and solacing them- selves in the fulness of joy. In short, the unsanctified soul, amidst holy and triumph- ant spirits, even in the refined regions of bliss and immortality, would be like this melancholy bird, dislodged from her dark- some retirement, and imprisoned under the beams of day. * The voice of this creature screaming at our windows, or of the raven croaking over our houses, is, they say, a token of approach- ing death. There are persens who would regard such an incident with no small de- gree of solicitude. Trivial as it is, it would damp their spirits, perhaps break their rest. One cannot but wonder, that people should suffer themselves to be affrighted at such fantastical, and yet be quite unaffected with real, presages of their dissolution. Real presages of this awful event address us from every quarter. What are these incumbent glooms which overwhelm the world, but a kind of pall provided for nature, and an image of that long night, which will quick- ly cover the inhabitants of the whole eai'th ? "VVTiat an affinity has the sleep,f which will very soon weigh down my drowsy eye-lids, with that state of entire cessation, in which all my senses must be laid aside ! The si- lent chamber, and the bed of slumber, are a vei7 significant representation of the land where all things are hushed, all things are forgotten. What meant that deep death- bell note, which the other evening sadden- ed the air ? Laden %vith heavy accents, it struck our ears, and seemed to knock at the door of our hearts. Surely, it brought a message to surviving mortals, and thus the tidings ran : " Mortals, the destroyer of * I would beg of the reader to observe, with what emphasis and propriety, our Lord touches this impor- tant point, in his reply to Nicodemus. " Verily, ver- ily, I say unto thee, Except a man be bom again, he cannot enter into the kingdom of heaven." q. d. "I wave the authority of the supreme Judge, and speak with the condescension of a teacher in Israel. Though I might, without being liable to the least control, pass it into a sovereign decree, That unrenexved mor- tals, who are slaves to corrupt appetites, shall not en- ter the habitations of the just ; I rather choose to re- present it as a case utterly impossible ; and charge the calamity, not upon divine severity, but upon hu- man folly. Such persons, from the very nature of things, preclude themselves ; they incapacitate their own minds; and contrarities must be reconciled, be- fore they, in their unregenerate condition, can be partakers of those spiritual and sublime delights." John iii. 3. t Kt consanguineus lethi sopor.— Fic^'. your race is on his way. The kst enemy has bcgtni the pursuit, and is gaining ground upon you every moment. His paths are strewed with heaps of slain. Even now his javelin has laid one of yoiu" neighbours in the dust ; and will soon, very soon, aim the inevitable blow at each of your lives." We need not go down to the charnel- house, nor carry our research into the reposi- tories of the dead, in order to find memo- rials of our impending doom. A multitude of these remembrancers are planted in all our paths, and point the heedless passengers to their long home. I can hardly enter a considerable town, but I meet the funeral procession ; or the mourners going about the streets. The hatchment suspended on the wall, or the crape streaming in the air, are silent intimations, that both rich and poor have been emptying their houses, and replenishing their sepulchres. I can scarce join in any conversation, but mention is made of some that are given over by the physician, and hovering on the confines of eternity ; of others, that have just dropt their clay amidst weeping friends, and are gone to appear before the Judge of all the earth. There's not a newspaper comes to my hand, but, amidst all its entertaining narrations, reads several serious lectures of mortality. What else are the repeated ac- counts of age worn out by slow- consuming sicknesses ; of youth dashed to pieces by some sudden stroke of casualty ; of patriots exchanging their seats in the senate, for a lodging in the tomb ; of misers resigning their breath, and ( O ! relentless destiny ! ) leaving their very riches for others ? Even the vehicles of otrr amusement are registers of the deceased ; and the voice of fame seldom sounds but in concert with a knell. These monitors crowd every place ; not so much as the scenes of our diversion ex- cepted. What are the decorations of our public buildings, and the most elegant fur- niture of our parlours, but the imagery of death, and trophies of the tomb ? That marble bust, and those gilded pictures, how solemnly they recognise the fate of others, and speakingly remind us of our own ! I see, I hear, and O ! I feel this great truth : It is interwoven with my constitution. The frequent decays of the structure foretell its final ruin. What are all the pains that have been darted through my limbs ; what every disease that has assaulted my health ; but the advanced guards of the foe ? What are the languors and weariness that attend the laboiu's of each revolving day, btit the more secret practices of the adversary, slowly undermining the earthly tabernacle ? Amidst so many notices, shall we go on thoughtless and unconcerned ? Can none of these prognostics, which are as sure as oracles, awaken our attention, and engage 8G CONTEMPLATIONS our circumspection ? Noat, it is written, being warned of God, prepared an ark. Imitate, my soul — imitate this excellent example. Admonished by such a cloud of witnesses, be continually putting thyself in a readiness for the last change. Let not that day, of which thou hast so many infal- lible signs, come upon thee unawares. Get the ivy untwined, and thy iiifections disen- tangled from this enchanting world, that thou mayest be able to (juit it without re- luctance. Get the dreadful hand-writing cancelled, and all thy sins blotted out, that thou mayest depart in peace, and have no- thing to fear at the decisive tribunal. Get, O ! get thyself interested in the Redeem- er's merits ; and transformed into his sa- cred image ; then shalt thou be meet for the inheritance of saints in light, and mayest even desire to be dissolved, and to be with Christ. Sometimes in my evening walk I have heard The wakeful bird. Sing darkling, and in shadiest covert hid. Tune her nocturnal note.* How different the airs of this charming songster, from those harsh and boding out- cries ! The little creature ran through all the variations of music ; and showed her- self mistress of every grace, which consti- tutes or embellishes harmony. Sometimes she swells a manly throat, and her song kindles into ardour. The tone is so bold, and strikes with such energy, you would imagine the sprightly serenader in the very next thicket. Anon the strain languishes, and the mournful warbler melts into ten- derness. The melancholy notes just steal upon the shades, and faintly touch your ear ; or, in soft and sadly pleasing accents, they seem to die along the distant vales, silence is pleased, and night listens to the trilling tale. "Wliat an invitation is this, to slip away from fhe thronged city ! This coy and mo- dest minstrel entertidns only the lovers of retirement. Those who are carousing over their bowls, or ranting at the riotous club, lose this feast of harmony. In like manner, the pleasures of religion, and the joy of re- conciliation with God ; the satisfaction aris- ing from an established interest in Christ, and from the prospect of a blissful immor- tality; these are all lost to the mind that is ever in the crowd, and dares not, or de- hghts not, to retire within itself. Are we ciiarmed with the nightingale's song ! Do we wish to have it nearer, and hear it of- tener ! Let us seek a renewed heart, and a resigned will, a conscience that whispers peace, and passions that are timed by grace ; then shall we never want a melody in our breasts, far more musically pleasing than sweet Philomela's sweetest strains. As different as the voices of these birds, are the circumstances of those few persons who continue awake. Some ar€ squander- ing pearls, shall I say, or kingdoms ? No ; but what is unspeakably more precious — Time ! squandering this inestimable talent with the most senseless and wanton prodi- gality. Not content with allowing a few spare minutes for the purpose of necessary recreation, they lavish many horn's, devote whole nights, to that idle diversion of shuf- fling, ranging, and detaching a set of paint- ed pasteboards. Others, instead of this busy trifling, act the part of their own tor- mentors. They even piquet themselves,* and call it amusement ; they are torn by wild horses, yet term it a sport. What else is the gamester's practice ? His mind is stretched on the tenter-hooks of anxious suspense, and agitated by the fiercest ex- tremes of hope and fear. While the dice are rattling, his heart is throbbing, his for- tune is tottering ; and possibly, at the very next throw, the one sinks in the gulf of ruin, the other is hurried into the rage of distraction. Some, snatched from the bloom of health and the lap of plenty, are confined to the chamber of sickness ; where they are con- strained either to plunge into the everlast- ing world in an unprepared condition, or else (sad alternative !) to think over all the follies of a heedless life, and all the bitter- ness of approaching death. The disease rages, it baffles the force of medicine, and urges the reluctant wretch to the brink of the precipice. While fiuies rouse the conscience, and point at the bottomless pit below. Perhaps his drooping mo- ther, deprived long ago of th.e husband of her bosom, and bereft of all her other offspring, is even now receiving the blow which consummates her calamities. f In vain she tries to assuage the son'ows of a \ » MUt. Par. Lost. Book III. 1. 38. » Alluding to a very painful punishment, inflicted on delinquents among the soldiery. t This brings to my mind one of the deepest mourning-pieces extant in the productions of the pen. The sacred historian paints it in all the simpli- city of style, yet with all the strength of colnuring ; " when Jesus came nigh to the gate of the city, be- hold ! there was a dead man carried out, the only son of his mother, and she was a widow." What a grada- tion is here ! How pathetically beautiful ! evei y fresh circumstance widens the wound, aggravates the calamity, till the description is worked up into the most finished picture of exquisite and inconsolable distress. He was a young man, cut oft' in the flower of life amidst a thousand gav expectations and smil- ing hopes. A son, an only son ; the afllicted mother's all, so that none remained to preserve the name or perpetuate the family. What rendered the case still more dejjlorable, she was a widow ! left entirely deso- late ; abandoned to her woes ; without any to share her son ows, or to comfort her under the irreparable loss. Is not this a fine sketch of the impassioned and picturesque ? Who can consider the narrative with any attention, and not feel his heart penetrated with a tender commiseration ? Luke vii. 12. ON THE NIGHT. 87 beloved son ; in vain she attempts, with ber tender offices, to prolong a life dearer than her own. He faints in her arms : he bows his head : he sinks in death. Fatal, doubly fata;l, that last expiring pang ! While it dislodges the unwilling soul, it rends an only child from the yearning embraces of a parent, and tears away the support of her age from a disconsolate widow. While these long for a reprieve, others invite the stroke. Quite weary of the world, with a restless impatience, they sigh for dissolution ; some pining away under the tedious decays of an incurable consump- tion, or gasping for breath and almost suf- focated by an inundation of dropsical waters. On some a relentless cancer has fastened its envenomed teeth, and is gnawing them, though in the midst of bodily vigour, in the midst of pitying friends, gradually to death. Others are on a rack of agonies, by coii- vidsive fits of the stone. O ! how the pain >vrithes their limbs ! How the sweat be- dews their flesh, and their eye-balls wildly roll ! Methinks the night condoles with these her distressed children, and sheds dewy tears over their sorrowful abodes. But, of all mortals, they are the most ex- quisitely miserable, who groan beneath the pressure of a melancholy mind, or smart under the lashes of a resentful conscience. Though robed in ermine, or covered ivith jewels, the state of a slave chained to the gallies, or of an exile condemned to the mines, is a perfect jjaradise compared with theirs. O that the votaries of mirth, whose life is a continued round of merriment and whim, would bestow one serious reflection on this variety of human woes ! It might teach them to be less enamoured with the few languid sweets, that are thinly scatter- ed through this vale of tears, and environed with such a multitude of ragged thorns. It might teach them no longer to dance away theiryears, with a giddy rambling impulse ; but to aspire with a determined aim, after those happy regions, where delights abun- dant and unimbittered flow. Can there be circumstances which a man of wisdom would more earnestly deprecate than these several instances of grievous tri- bulation ? There arp ; and what is very as- tonishing, they are frequently the desire and the choice of those, who fancy them- selves the sole heirs of happiness : Those, I mean, who are launching out into the depths of extravagance, and running exces- sive lengths of riot ; who are prostituting their reputation, and sacrificing their peace, to the gratification of their lusts ; sapping the foundation of their health in debauch - eries, or shipwrecking the interests of their families in theu' bowls, and what is worse, are forfeiting the joys of an eternal heaven, for the sordid satisfactions of the beast, for the tran- sitory sensations of an hour. Ye slaves of appetite, how far am I from en\7ing your gross sensualities and voluptuous revels ! Little, ah ! little are you sensible, that while indidgence showers her roses, and luxury diffuses her odours, they scatter poi- sons also, and shed unheeded bane. " — Evils incomparably more malignant than the wormwood and gall of the sharpest aflBiic- tion. Since death is in the drunkard's cup, and worse than poinards in the harlot's em- brace, may it ever be the privilege of the man whom I love, to go without his share of these pestilent sweets !f Abundance of living sparks glitter in the lanes, and twinkle under the hedges. I suppose they are the glow-worms, which have lighted their little lamps, and obtained leave, through the absence of the sun, to play a feeble beam. A faint glimmer just serves to render them perceivable, without tending at aU to dissipate the shades, or making any amends for the departed day. Should some weather-beaten traveller, drop- ping with wet, and shivering with cold, ho- ver round this mimiciy of fire, in order to dry his garments and warm his benumbed limbs ; should some bewildered traveller, groping for his way, in a starless night, and trackless desert, take one of these languid tapers, as a light to his feet, and a lantern to his path ; how certainly would both the one and the other be frustrated of their ex- pectation ! And are they more likely to succeed, who, neglecting that sovereign balm which distilled from the cross, apply any carnal diversion to heal the anxiety of the mind ? who, deaf to the infallible deci- sions of revelation, resign themselves over to the erroneous conjectures of reason, in order to find the way that leadeth unto life ? or, lastly, who have recoiu-se to the froth of this vain world, for a satisfactory portion and a substantial happiness ? Their conduct is in no degree wiser; their disappointment equally sure ; and their miscarriage infin- itely more disastrous. To speak in the delicate language of a sacred writer, " they sow the wind, and will reap the whirlwind." Hos. viii. 7. Tq speak more plainly, the pleasures of the world, wliich we are all so prone to dote upon ; and the powers of fallen reason* which some are so apt to idolize ;j: are not * Ves in the flow'rs that wreathe the sparkling bowl. Fell adders hiss, and pois'nous serpents roll. PriorS Sill. __ t " Quam suava est suavitatibus istis carere !"— was St. Augustine's pious exclamation. The sub- stance of which Mr. Pope has expressed with more simplicity, and with no less dignity. Count all the advantage prosperous Vice attains- 'Tis but what Virtue (lies from and disdains. t I hope it will be observed, that I am far from de- crying that noble faculty of reason when exerted in her proper sphere, when acting in a differential subordin- ation to tlie revealed will of heaven. While ^he ea.- CONTEMPLATIONS only vaiji, but treacherous ; not only a paint- ed flame, like the sparkling animals, but much like those unctuous exhalations, which arise from the marshy ground, and often dance before the eye of the benighted way-faring man. Kindled into a sort of fire, they per- sonate a guide, and seem to offer their ser- vice ; but blazing with delusive light, mis- lead their follower into hidden pits, head- long precipices, and unfathomable gulfs ; where, far from his beloved friends, far from all hopes of succour, the unhappy wanderer is swallowed up and lost. Not long ago we observed a very surpris- ing appearance in the western sky. A pro- digious star took its flaming route through those coasts ; and trailed as it passed, a tre- mendous length of fire, almost over half the heavens. Some, I imagine, viewed the por- tentous stranger, with much the same anx- ious amazement as Belshazzar beheld the hand-writing upon the wall. Some looked upon it as a bloody* flag, hung out by di- vine resentment over a guilty world. Some read in its glaring visage the fate of nations, and the fall of kingdoms.f To others it shook, or seemed to shake, pestilence and war from its horrid hair. For my part, I am not so superstitious as to regard what every astrologer has to prognosticate upon the accession of a comet, or the projection of its huge vapoury train. Nothing can be more precarious and unjustifiable, than to draw such conclusions from such events ; since they neither are preternatural eff'ects, nor do they throw the frame of things into any disorder. I would rather adore that omnipotent Being, who rolled those stupen- dous orbs from his creating hand, and leads them by his providential eye, through un- measurable tracts of ether ; who bids them now approach the siui, and glow with mi- sufferable ardours ;| now retreat to the ut- ercises l-.er powers within these appointed limits, she is ur.spealiably serviceable, and cannot be too indus- triously cultivated ; but, when she sets up herself in proud contradiction to the sacred oracles ; when, all arrogant and self-sufficient, she says to the word of scripture, I ha\e no need of thee ; she is then, I must be bold to maintain, not only a glow-worm, but an ignis fatuiis, not only a bubble, but a snare. May not this remark, with the strictest propriety, and without the least limitation, be applied to thege- nerality of our modern romances, novels, and theatri- cal entertainments ? These are commonly calculateil to inflame a wanton fancy ; or, if conducted with so much modesty as not to debauch the affections, they pervert the judgment, and bewilder the taste. By their incredible adventures, their extravagant parade of gallantry, and their characters widely different from truth and nature, they inspire foolish conceits, beget idle expectations, introduce a disgust of genuine history, and ii:dispose their admirers to acquiesce in the decent civilities, or to relish the sober satisfactions of common life. * Liquida si qiiando nocte coracta'. Sanguinei lugubre rubent.— r'J/-,?. t Crinemciuetimendi Sideris, et terris, mutantem regna cometen. X "The comet in the year of IGHO, accorduig to Jir Isaac Newton's computation, was, in its nearest .approach, above HiO times nearer the sun than the earth is. Consequently, its heat was then 2!i,()(Hi times grcp.ttr ihan tliat of sinnmer. So that a ball of iron as most bounds of our planetary system, and make their entry among other worlds. They are harmless visitants. I acquit them from the charge of causing, or being accessory to desolating plagues. Would to God there were no other more formidable indications of approaching judgments, or impending ruin ! But, alas ! when vice be- comes predominant, and irreligion almost epidemical ; when the sabbaths of a jealous God are notoriously profaned, and that name which is great, wonderful, and holy, is prostituted to the meanest, or abused to the most execrable purposes ; when the worship of our great Creator and Preserver is banished from many of the most conspi- cuous families, and it is deemed a piece of rude impertinence so much as to mention the gracious Redeemer in our genteel inter- views ; when it passes for an elegant freedom of behaviour to ridicule the mysteries of Clmstianity, and aspeciesof refined conver- sation to taint the air with lascivious hints ; when those who sit in the scorner's chair sin with a high hand, and many of those who wear the professor's garb, are destitute of the power, and content themselves with the mere form of godliness ; when such is the state of a community, there is reason, too apparent reason, to be horribly afraid. Such phenomena abounding in the moral world, are not fanciful, but real omens. Will not an injured God be avenged on such a nation as this ? Will he not be provoked to " sweep it with the besom of destruction?"* O that the inhabitants of Great Britain would lay these alarming considerations to heart ! The Lord of hosts has commanded the sword of civil discord to return into its sheath; but have we returned every one from his evil wtiys ? Are we become a re- newed people, devoted to a dying Saviour, and zealous of good works? What mean those peals of sobs which burst from the ex- piring cattle ? What mean those melancholy moans, where the lusty droves were wont to low ?f What mean those arrows of un- timely deaths, discharged on our innocent and useful animals ? No wantonness or sloth has vitiated the blood of these laborious, temperate crea- tures. They have contracted no disease big as the earth heated bv it, would hardly become cool in 50,000 years." Der. Astr. Theo. p. 237. * Isa. xiv. 23. The eternal sovereign, speaking of Pabylon, denounces this threatening, " 1 will sweep it with the besom of destruction." — What a noble, but dreadful image is here ! How strongly and awfully pourtrayed ! How pregnant also is its signification ; intimating the vile nature, and expressing the total extirpation of this wicked people ; at the same time, suggesting the perfect ease with which the righteous God would execute his intended vengeance. -f- If these papers should be so happy as to outlive their author, perhaps it may be needful to inform pos- terity, that the above mentioned hints allude to a most terrible contagious and mortal disterap.cr, raging amijii.i,' the honied cattle in various parts of the king- dom ON THE NIGHT, 89 from unseasonable indulgences and inordi- nate revellings. The pui-e stream is their di'ink ; the simple herb their repast. Nei- ther care disturbs their sleep, nor passion in- flames their breast. Whence, then, are they visited with such terrible disorders, as no prudence can prevent, nor any medicines heal ? Surely these calamities are the wea- pons of divine displeasure, and manifest chastisements of an evil generation !* Sm-e- ly God, the God to whom vengeance be- longetb, has still a controversy with our sin- ful land ! And who can tell where the visi- tation wiU end ? What a storm may follow these delusive drops ? O that we may "hear the rod, and who hath appointed it I" Taught by these penal effects of our disobe- dience, may we remove the accui-sed thing from our tents, our practices, our hearts ; (Joshua vi. 18.) May we turn from all un- godliness, before wrath come upon us to the uttermost ; before iniquity prove our ruin ! Sometimes at this houj', another most re- markable sight amuses the curious, and alarms the vulgar. A blaze of lambent meteors is kindled, or some very extraor- dinary lights are refracted, in the quarters of the noith. The streams of radiance, like legions rushing to the engagement, meet and mingle, insomuch that the air seems to be all conflicting fire. Within a while they start from one another, and, like legions in precipitate flight, sweep each a separate way through the firmament. Now they ai-e quiescent, anon they are thrown into a qui- vering motion ; presently the whole horizon is illuminated with the glancing flames. Sometimes, with an aspect awfully ludi- crous, they represent extravagant and antic vagaries : at other times, you would suspect that some invdsible hand was playing off the dumb artilleiy of the skies, and, by a strange expedient, giving us the flash without the roar. The villagers gaze at the spectacle : first with wonder, then with horror. A gener- al panic seizes the country. Every heart throbs, and every face is pale. The crowds that flock together, instead of diminishing, increase the di'ead. They catch contagion from each other's looks and words : while fear is m every eye, and every tongue speaks the language of terror. Some see hideous shapes, armies mixing in fierce encounter, or fields swimming with blood. Some fore- see direful events, states overthrown, or mii^hty monarchs tottering on their thrones. Others, scared with still more frightful ap- prehensions, think of nothing but the day of doom. " Sure," says one, " the unalter- able hour is struck, and the end of all things come." " See," replies another, " how the blasted stars look wan ! Are not these the signs of the Son of man coming in the clouds of heaven ?" " Jesus, prepare us," (cries a third, and lifts up his eyes in devo- tion) for the archangel's trump, and the great tribunal !" If this waving brightness, which plays innocently over our heads, be so amazing to multitudes ; what inexpressible constenia- tion must overwhelm unthinking mortals, when the general conflagration commences ! The day, the dreadful day, is approaching, " in the which the heavens shall pass away with a great noise ;"* and the elements shall melt with fervent heat ; the earth iilso, and all the works that are therein, shall be burnt up. That mighty hand, which once opened the windows from on high, and broke up the fountains of the great deep, will then unlock all the magazines of fire, and ])our a second deluge upon the earth. The vengeful flames, kindled by the breath of the Almighty, spread themselves from the centre to the circumference. Nothing can withstand their impetuosity ; nothing can escape their rage. Universal desola- tion attends their progress. Magnificent palaces, and solemn temples, are laid in ashes. Spacious cities, and impregnable towers, are mingled in one smoking mass. Not only the productions of human art, but the works of almighty power, are fuel for the devouring element. The everlasting mountains melt, like the snows which cover their summit. Even vast oceans serve only to augment the inconceivable rapidity and fury of the blaze. O ! how shall 1 or others stand undismayed amidst the glare of a burning world, imless the Lord Jeho- vah be our defence ? How shall we be ujj- held in security, when the globe itself is sinking in a fiery ruin, unless the Rock of ages be our support. Behold a new spectacle of wonder ! The moon is making her entry on the eastern sky. See her rising in clouded majesty I * Hinc lastis vituli viilgo moriuntur in herbis F.t, clulces animas pleiia ad ))ia;sepia reddunt, Balalu hinc pecorum.et crebris.iTnigitibus amnes, Areutescjue sonant ripsc, col'.csiiuc siiinni.— F'i)|j. * 2 Pet. ill. 10. 1 have often thought this verse an eminent instance of that kind of beautiful writing, in which the very sound bears a sort of significancy ; at least carries an exact correspondence with the sense. The original expression is one of the hoarsest and deepest words in language. Nothing could be more exquisitely adapted to affect the ear, as well as im- press the imagination, with the wreck of nature, and the crash of a fallen world. 1 scarce ever read this clause, but it brings to my mind that admired descrip- tion in Milton: On a sudden open fly. With impetuous recoil, and jarring sound, Th' infernal doors, and on their hmges grate Harsh thunder.— Bc/o/c. II. 1. 879. It is a pleasing empIoV) and a very laudable office of true criticisu!, to point out these inferior recom- mendations of the sacred classics. Though I believe, the inspired writers themselves, amidst all the eleva- tion and magnificence of their divine ideas, disdained a scrupulous attention to such little niceties of style. 90 CONTEMPLATIONS opening as it were, and asserting her origi- nal oonimission to rule over the night. All grand and stately, but somewhat sullied is her aspect. However, she brightens as she advances, and grows clearer as she climbs higher, till at length her silver loses all its dross : she unveils her peerless light, and becomes " the beauty of heaven, the glory of the stars,"* delighting every eye, and cheering the whole world, with the bright- ness of her appearance and the softness of her splendours O, thou queen of the shades ! may it be my ambition to follow this thy instructive example ! While others are fond to transcribe the fashions of little courts, and to mimic personages of inferior state ; be it mine to imitate thy improving purity. May my conduct become more unblemished, and my temper more refined, as I proceed farther and farther in my pro- bationary course. May every sordid desire wear away, and eveiy irregular appetite be gradually lost, as I make nearer approaches to the celestial mansions. Will not this be a comfortable evidence, that I too shall shine in my adored Redeemer's kingdom ? shine with a richer lustre tlian that which radiates from thy resplendent orb ; shine with an unfading lustre, when every ray that beams from thy beauteous sphere is totally extinguished ? The day afforded us a variety of enter- taining sights. These were all withdrawn at the accession of darkness. The stars, kindly officious, immediately lent us their aid. This served to alleviate the frown of night, rather than to recover the objects from their obscurity. A faint ray, scarcely re- flected, and not from the entire surface of things, gave the straining eye a very imper- fect glimpse ; such as rather mocked than satisfied vision. Now tne moon is risen, and has collected all her beams, the veil is taken from oft' the countenance of nature. I see the recumbent flocks ; I see the green hedge-rows, though without the feathered choristers hoping from spray to spray. In short, I see once again the world's great picture ; not indeed in its late lively colours, but more delicately shaded, and arrayed in softer charms. f What a majestic scene is here ! incom- parably gi'and, and exquisitely fine ! The moon, like an immense crystal lamp, pen- dent in the magnificent ceiling of the hea- vens. The stars, like so many thousands of golden tapers, fixed in their azure sockets. All pouring their lustre on spacious cities, and lofty mountains ; glittering on the ocean, gleaming on the forest ; and open- * Eccl'us. xliii. !). Lucidura cttli decus. — Hoi: t Now rcisiis Full orb'd the moon, and with more pleasing light Shadowy sets off the tace of things. — Milt. ing a prospect, wide as the eye can glance, more various than fancy can paint.* We are forward to admire the performances of human art. A landscape, elegantly design- ed, and executed with a masterly hand ; a piece of statuary, M'hich seems, amidst all the recommendations of exact proportion and graceful attitude, to soften into flesh, and almost breathe with life ; — these little imitations of nature, we behold \nth a pleasing surprise. And shall we be less affected, less delighted, with the inexpres- sibly noble, and completely finished origi- nal ? The ample dimensions of Ranelagh's dome, the gay illuminations of Vaivchall grove, I should scorn to mention on such an occasion, were they not the objects of general admiration. Shall we be charmed with those puny essays of finite ingenuity, and touched with no transport at this stu- pendous display of omnipotent skill ? at the august grandeur, and shining stateliness of the firmament ; which forms an alcove for ten thousand worlds, and is ornamented with myriads of everlasting luminaries? Surely, this must betray, not only a tota. want of religion, but the most abject little- ness of mind, and the utmost poverty of genius. The moon is not barely "an ornament in the high places of the Lord," (Eccl'us. xliii. 9. ) but of signal service to the inhabitants of tlue earth. How uncomfortable is deep, pitchy, total darkness ! especially in the long absence of the winter's sun. Wel- come, therefore, thrice welcome, this aus- picious gift of Providence, to enliven the nocturnal gloom, and line with silver the raven-coloured mantle of night. How de- sirable to have our summer evenings illu- minated ! that we may be able to tread the dewy meads, and breathe the delicious fra- grance of our gardens ; especially, when the sultry heats render it irksome and fatiguing to walk abroad by day. How cheering to the shepherd the use of this universal lan- tern, as he tends his fleecy charge, or late consigns them to their hurdled cots ! How comfortable and how advantageous to the mariner, as he ploughs the midnight main, to adjust the tackling, to explore his way. * As when the moon, refulgent lamp of night. O'er heaven's clear azure spreads her sacred light When not a breath disturbs the deep serene. And not a cloud o'ercasts the solemn scene ; Around her throne the vivid planets roll, And stars unnumber'd gild the glowing pole ; O'er the dark trees a yellower verdure shed. And tip with silver every mountain's head : Then shine the vales, the rocks in prospect rise ; A tlood of glory bursts from all the skies ; The conscious swains, rejoicing in the sight, Eye the blue vault, and bless the useful light. Iliad viii. I transcribe these lines, because Mr. Pope says, they exhibit, in the original, the finest night-piece in poetry. And if they are so beautiful in Homer's lan- guage, who can suspect their suK'ering any disadvan- tage from the pen of his admirable translator ? ON THE NIGHT. 91 and under the influence of this beaming sconce, to avoid the fatal rock ! For these, and other beneficial purposes, the hand of the Almighty has hung the stately branch on high ; and filled it with a splendour not confined to a single edifice, or commensu- rate to a particular square, but diffusive as the whole extent of the hemisjjhere. The most faithful of our inferior ser- vants are sometimes tardy in their office, sometimes negligent of their duty. But this celestial attendant is most exactly punctual, at all the stated periods of her ministration. If we choose to prolong our journey after the sun is gone downi, the moon, during her whole increase, is always leady to act in the capacity of a guide. If we are inclined to set out very early in the morning, the moon, in her decrease, pre- vents the da^vn, on purpose to offer her as- sistance. And because it is so pleasant a thing for the eyes to behold the light, the moon, at her full, by a course of unintermit- ted waiting, gives us as it were a double day. How apparently has the divine wis- dom interested itself, in providing even for the pleasurable accommodation of man ' How desirous that he should want no piece of commodious furniture, no kind of delight- ful convenience ; and, in prosecution of these benevolent intentions, has annexed so valuable an appendage to the terrestrial globe. Justly, therefore, does the Psalmist celebrate that admirable constitution, which ordained the moon and the stars to govern the night, as an instance of rich goodness, and of mercy which endureth for ever : (Psalm cxxxvi. 9. The moon, it is confessed, is no lumi- nous body. All the brightness which beau- tifies her countenance is originally in the sun, and no more than transmissively in her. That glorious orb is the parent of day, and the palace of light. From thence the morn- ing star gilds her hom ;* from thence the planetary circles are crowned with lustre ; and from thence the moon derives all her silver radiance. It is pleasing to reflect, that such is the case with the all-sufficient Picdeemer, and his dependent people. We are replenished from his fulness. What do we possess wliich we have not received ; and what can we desu-e, which we may not expect from that never-failing source of all good ? He is the author of our faith, and the former of our graces. In his unspotted life, we see the path ; in his meritorious death, the price ; and in his triumphant re- * I might, to justify this expression, observe that the planet Venus, commonly called the momingstar, is found by our telescopes frequently to appear horn- ed; or to nave a crescent of liijht, somewhat like the moon, a little before or after ner conjunction. But this would be a remark too deep and refined for my scheme; which proceeds only upon muperficial know- ledge, and the most obvious appearances of nature. surrection, the proof — of bliss and immor- tality. If we offend and fall seven times a- day, he is the Lord our peace, (Judges vi. '24.) If we are depraved, and our best deeds very unworthy ; he is the Lord our righteousness, (Jer. xxiii. 6.) If we are blind, and even brutish, in heavenly know- ledge ; he is the Lord our wisdom, ( 1 Cor. i. 30. ) his word dispels the shades ; his Spirit scatters the intellectual gloom ; his eye looks om- darkness into day. In short we are nothing, and " Christ is all." Worse than defective in ourselves, " we are com- plete in him." So that if we shine, it is with delegated rays, and with borrowed light. We act by a strength, and glory in merits, not our own. Oh ! may we be thoroughly sensible of our depend- ence on the Saviour. May we constantly imbibe his propitious beams ; and never, by indulging unbelief, or backsliding into folly, withdraAv our souls from his benign influences ; lest we lose our comfort and our holiness, as the fair ruler of the night loses her splendour, when her urn is turned from its fountain,* and receives no more communications of solar effulgence. The moon is incessantly varj'ing, either in her aspect, or her stages. Sometimes she looks full upon us, and her visage is all lustre : Sometimes she appears in profile, and shows us only half her enlightened face ; anon, a radiant crescent but just adorns her brow ; soon it dwindles into a slender streak ; till at length, all her beauty vanish- es, and she becomes a beamless orb. Some- times she rises with the descending day, and begins her procession amidst admiring multitudes ; ere long, she defers her progress till the midnight watches, and steals unob- served upon the sleeping world. Some- times she just enters the edges of the west- ern horizon, and drops us a ceremonious visit. Within a while, she sets out on her nightly tour from the opposite regions of the east, traverses the whole hemisphere, and never offers to withdraw, till the more refulgent partner of her sway renders her presence un- necessary. In a word, she is, while con- versant among us, still waxing. or waning, and "never continueth in one stay." Such is the moon, and such are all sub- lunary things — exposed to perpetual vicissi- tudes. How often, and how soon, have the faint echoes of renown slept in silence, or been converted into the clamours of oblo- quy ! The same lips ; almost with the same breath, cry, Hosaiuia and Crucify. Have not riches confessed their notorious trea- chery a thousand and a thousand times ? either melting away like snow in our hands Alluding to those truly poetical lines in Milton. Hither, as to their fountain, other stars Repairing, in their golden urns draw light. Par, Lose, Book vii. 92 CONTEMPLATIONS by insensible degrees, or escaping like a vvi)iged ])risoner from its cage with a preci- pitate flight. Have we not knowti the bridegroom's closet an anti-chamber to the tomb ; and heard the voice which so lately pronounced the sparkling pair husband and wife, proclaim an everlasting divorce, and seal the decree with that solemn assevera- tion, " Ashes to ashes, dust to dust!" Our friends, though the medicine of life — our health, though the balm of nature, are a most precarious possession. How soon may the first become a corpse in our arms ; and how easily is the last destroyed in its vigour ! You have seen, no doubt, a set of pretty painted birds, perching on your trees, or sporting in your meadows. You was pleased with the lovely visitants, that brought beauty on their wings, and melody in their throats. But could you insm-e the continuance of this agreeable entertainment? No, truly. At the least disturbing noise, at the least terrifying appearance, they start from their seats, they mount the skies, and are gone in an instant, are gone for ever. Would you choose to have a happiness which bears date with their arrival, and ex- pires at their departure ? If you could not be content with a portion, enjoyable only through such a fortuitous term, not of years, but of moments, O ! take up with nothing earthly ; set your affections on things above ; there alone is " no variableness or shadow of turning." Job is not a more illustrious pattern of patience, than an eminent exemplification of this remark. View him in his private estate. He heaps up silver as the dust ; he washes his steps in butter ; and the rocks pour him out rivers of oil. View him in his public character : Princes revere his dignity ; the aged listen to his wisdom ; every eye beholds him with delight ; every tongue loads him with blessings. View him in his domestic circumstances : On one hand, he is defended by a troop of sons ; on the other, adorned with a train of daugh- ters ; and on all sides surrounded by " a very great household." Never was human feli- city so consummate ; never was disastrous revolution so sudden. The lightning which consumed his cattle was not more terrible, and scarce more instantaneous ; the joyful parent is bereft of his oflfspring, and his children are buried in death. The man of affluence is stri])t of his abundance ; and he who was clothed in scarlet, embraces the dunghill. The venerable patriarch is the derision of scoundrels ; and the late darling of an indulgent providence, is become " a brother to dragons, a companion of owls." Nor need we go back to former ages for proofs of this afflicting truth. In our times, in all times, the wheel continues the same incessant whirl ; and frequently those who are triumphing to-day in the highest eleva- tions of joy, to-morrow are bemoaning the instability of mortal affairs in the very depths of misery.* Amid so much fluctua- tion and uncertainty, how wretched is the condition which has no anchor of the soul, sure and steadfast ! May thy loving kindness, O God, be our present treasure ; and thy future glory our reversionary inheritance ! Then shall our happiness not be like the full-orl)ed moon, which is " a light that de- creaseth in its perfection ;" but like the sun, when he goetli forth in his strength, and knoweth no other change, but that of shin- ing more and more unto the perfect day. Methinks, in this ever varying sphere, I see a representation not only of our tempor- al advantages, but also of our spiritual ac- complishments. Such, I am sure, is what the kind partiality of a friend would call my righteousness ; and such, I am apt to sus- j>ect,-)- is the righteousness of every man living. Now we exercise it in some few instances, in some little degrees : anon, sin revives, and leads our souls into a transient though unwilling captivity. Now we are meek ; but soon a ruffling accident inter- venes, and turns our composure into a fret- ful disquietude. Now we are humble ; soon we reflect upon some inconsiderable or * T believe I may venture to apply what the Te- manite says of the affairs of the wicked to all sublun- ary things, as a true description of thsir very great instability. Job xxii. 16. rendered by Schultens, " Fliimen fusum fundamentinn eorum." Their foun- dation, (or what they reckon their most solid and sta- ble possession) is a flood poured out : which is one of the boldest images, and most poetical beauties I ever met with in any language sacred or profane. In order to have a tolerable conception of the image, and a taste of its beauty, you must suppose a torrent of wa- ters, rushing in brolien cataracts, and with impetuous rapidity, from a steep and craggy mountain. 1 hen imagine to yourself an edifice built upon the surge of this rolling precipice, which has no other basis than one of those headlong whirling waves Was there ever such a representation of transitory prosperity, tending with inconceivable swiftness, unto ruin ? Vet sucli is every form of human felicity, that is not grounded on Jesus, and a participation of his merits, who is the Rock of ages; on Jesus, and his image formed in our hearts, which is the hope of glory. t I would not be understood as measuring in this respect, others by myself; but as taking my estimate from the unerring stancjard of Scripture. And in- deed, proceeding on this evidence, supported by this authority, I might have ventured farther than a bare suspicion. For " there is not a just man upon earth, that doeth good, and sinneth not," says the .Spirit of inspiration by Solomon (Eccles. vii. 2(i.) Nay, such is the purity, and so extensive are the demands of the divine law, that an apostle makes a still more humbling acknowledgment; " In many things we oflVnd all." (James iii.'i.) And the unerring tencher, who most thoroughly knew our frame, directs the most advanced, most established, and most watchful Christians, to pray daily for the forgiveness of their daily trespasses. — To which testimonies, I beg lea\e to add an elegant passage from the Can- ticles; because it not only expresses the sentiment of this paragraph, but illustrates it by the very same similitude. Slie (the church) is fair as the moon ; clear as the sun. Fair as the moon, the lesser and changeable light, in her sanctification ; clear .is the sun, the greater and invariable luminary in her ji:sti- fication. The inherent holiness of believers being imperfect, and subject to many inequalities; while their imputed righteousness is every w;ty coiKiplete, and constantly like itself. Cant. vi. '19, ON THE NIGHT. 93 imaginary superiority over others, and a sud- den elatement swells our minds. Now, perhaps, we possess a clean heart, and are warm with holy love ; but, O ! how easily is the purity of our affections sullied ! how soon the fervour of our gratitude cooled ! And is there not something amiss even in our best moments ? Something to be asham- ed of in all we are, something to be repent- ed of in all we do ? With what gladness, therefore, and ador- ing thankfulness, should we submit to the righteousness of " our incarnate God ;" and receive as a divine gift, what cannot be acquired by human works! (Rom. v. 17, — X. 3. ) A writer of the first distinction, and nicest discernment, styles the obedience of our glorious Surety, an everlasting righte- ousness, (Dan. ix. 24.) such as was sub- ject to no interruption, nor obscured by the least blemish, but proceded always in the same uniform tenor of the most spotless perfection. This righteousness, in another sense, answers the prophet's exalted de scription ; as its beneficial and sovereign efficacy knows no end, but lasts througli all our life ; lasts in the trying hour of death ; lasts at the decisive day of judgment ; lasts tlirough every generation ; and will last to all eternity. Sometimes I have seen that resplendent globe stript of her radiance ; or, accoi'ding to the emphatical language of Scripture, " turned into blood." The earth, interpos- ing with its opaque body, intercepted the solar rays, and cast its gloomy shadow on the moon. The malignant influence gained upon her sickening orb, extinguished more and more the feeble remainders of light, till, at length, like one in a deep swoon, no come- liness was left in her countenance — she was totally overspread with darkness. At this juncture, whac a multitude of eyes were gazing upon the rueful spectacle ! even of those eyes which disregarded the empress of the night, or beheld her with indifference, when, robed in glory, and riding in her triumphal chariot, she shed a softer day through the nations. But now, under these circumstances of disgrace, they watch her motions with the most prying attention. In every place her misfortune is the object of general observation, and the prevailing to pic of discourse in every company. Is it not thus with regard to persons of eminence in their respective spheres? Kings at the head of their subjects ; nobles sur- rounded with their dependants ; and (after names of so much grandeur, may I be al- lowed to add?) ministers labouring among their people,* are each in a conspicuous sta- tion. Their conduct in its minutest step, especially in any miscarriage, will be nar- rowly surveyed, and critically scanned. Can there be a louder call to ponder the paths of their feet, and to be particularly jealous over all their ways ? Those who move in in- ferior life may grossly offend, and little alarm be given, perhaps no notice taken. But it is not to be expected that the least slip in their carriage, the least flaw in their character will pass imdiscovered. Malice, with her eagle-eyes, will be sure to discern them, while Censure, wdtli her shrill trum- pet, will be as far from concealing them, as Calumny, with her treacherous whispers, from extenuating them. A planet may sink below the horizon, or a star for several months withdraw its shining : and scarce one in ten thousand perceive the loss ; but if the moon suffers a transient eclipse, al- most half the world are spectators of her dishonour. '\^ery different was the case, when at this late hour, I have taken a solitary walk on the western cliffs. At the foot of the steep mountain, the sea, all clear and smooth, spread itself into an immense plain, and held a watery mirror to the skies. Infinite heights above the firmament stretched its azure expanse, bespangled with unnumbered stars, and adorned with the moon " walking in brightness." ( Job xxxi. 26.) She seem- ed to contemplate herself with a peculiar pleasure, while the transparent surface both received and returned her silver image. Here, instead of being covered with sack- cloth, she shone with double lustre ; or ra- ther, with a lustre multiplied, in proportion to the number of beholders, and their various situations. Such, methinks, is the effect of an ex- emplary behaviour in persons of exalted rank. Their course, as it is nobly distin- guished, so it will be happily influential ; others will catch the diffusive ray, and be ambitious to resemble a pattern so attract- ing, so commanding. Their amiable quali- ties will not terminate in themselves, but we shall see then? reflected from their fami- lies, their acquaintance, their retainers. Just as we may now behold another moon, trembling* in the stream, glittering in the canal, and displajing its lovely impress on eveiy collection of waters. The moon, philosophy says, is a sort of sovereign over the great deep. Her orb, like a royal sceptre, sways the ocean, and actuates the fluid realms. It swells the tides, and perpetuates the reciprocal returns of ebb and flow, by which means the liquid element purges off its filth, and is preserved from being putrefied itself, and from poison- ing the world. Is the moon thus operative on the vast abyss ? and shall not the faith « " Ye are the light of the world. A city that is set on a hill cannot be hid." Matt. v. U. * Spleiidet tremulo sub lumine pontus. 94 CONTEMPLATIONS of eternal and infinite delights to come, be equally efficacious on this soul of mine? Far al)ove her argent fields are treasures of hap- piness, unseen by mortal eye, by mortal ear unheard, and unconceived by any human ima- gination. In that desirable world, the most distinguished and exalted honours also are conferred ; in comparison with which the thrones and diadems of earthly monarchs an? empty pageants, and childish toys. Yonder arch of sapphire, tvith all its span- gles of gold, is but the floor of those divine abodes. What then are the apartments ? what is the palace ? How bright with glo- ries ! how rich with bliss ! O ! ye mansions of blessedness ; ye beau- ties of my Father's kingdom, which far out- shine the lamps of the visible heaven, trans- mit your sweet and winning invitations to my heart. Attract and I'efine all my aflfec- tions. Withdraw them from stagnating on the sordid shores of flesh ; never suff'er them to settle upon the impure lees of sense ; but impress them with emotions of restless de- sire after sublime and celestial joys, — ^joys, that will proceed, stiU proceed, in a copious and everlasting flow, when seas shall cease to roll, — ;ioys, that will charm every faculty with unimaginable pleasure, when the moon, with her waxing splendours, shall cheer our sight no more. Enough for the present evening. My thoughts have been sufficiently exercised, and my steps begin to be attended ^vith weariness. Let me obey the admonition of nature, and give respite to my meditations, slumber to my eyes. But stay — Shall I retire to the bed of sleep, with as little ceremony, and with as much inattention, as the brutes to their sordid lair? Are no acknowledgments due to that divine Being who is the support of my life, and the length of my days? Have I no farther need of his protecting care ; no more occasion for the blessings of his goodness ? Lepidus per- haps may laugh at the bended knee, and have a thousand darts of raillery ready to discharge on the practice of devotion. Tlie wits, I know, are immercifuUy severe on what they call the drudgery of prayer, and the fantastical rant of praise. These they leave to the illiterate labourer, and the mean mechanic ; or treat them with a contemp- tuous sneer, as the parson's ignoble trade. Is it then an instance of superstitious blindness to distinguish, or of whimsical zeal to celebrate, the most supercminent ex- cellency and merit? Is it an ungraceful business, or does it argue a grovelling dis- position, to magnify goodness transcendent- ly rich and diffusive ? What can be so truly becoming a dependant state, as to pay our adoring homage to the Author of all per- fection ? and profess our devoted allegiance to the supreme Almighty Governor of the universe ? Can any thing more significantly bespeak an ingenuous temper, or administer a more real satisfaction to its finest feelings, than the exercises of penitential devotion, by which we give vent to an honest anguish, or melt into filial sorrow, for our insensibility to the best of friends, for our disobedience to the best of parents ? In a word, can there be a more sublime pleasure, than to dwell in fixed contemplation on the beau- ties of the eternal mind ; the amiable ori- ginal of all that is fair, grand, and harmoni- ous ; the beneficent giver of all that is con- venient, comfortable, and useful ? Can there be a more advantageous employ, than to present our requests to the Father of mercies ; opening our minds to the irradia- tions of his wisdom, and all the faculties of our souls to the communications of his grace ? It is strange, unaccountably strange, that the notion of dignity in sentiment, and the pursuit of refined enjoyment, should ever be disunited from devotion ; that per- sons who make pretensions to an improved taste, and ex.dted genius, should neglect this most ennobling intercourse with the wisest and best of beings, the inexhaustible source of honour and joy. Shall I be deterred from approaching this source of the purest delight ? deterred from pursuing this highest improvement of my nature ? deterred from all by a formidable banter, or confuted by one irrefragable smile ? No : let the moon in her resplen- dent sphere, and yonder pole with all its starry train, witness if I be silent even or morn ; if I refrain to kindle in my heart, and breathe from my lips, the reasonable incense of praise ; praise to that great and glorious God who formed the earth and built the skies, who poured from his hand the watery world, and shed the all-sur- rounding air abroad. " Thou also madest the night. Maker omnipotent ! and thou the day ; which I, though less than the least of all thy mercies, have passed in safety, tranquillity, and comfort. When I was lost in tlie extravagance of dreams, or lay immersed in the insensibility of sleep, thy hand recovered me from the temporary lethargy ; thy hand set a new, a delicately fine edge, on all my blunted senses, and strung my sinews with recruited vigom\ When my thoughts were benumbed and stupified, thy quickening influence roused them into activity • when they were discon- certed and wild, thy regulating influence reduced them into order ; refitting me at once to relish the innocent entertainments of an animal, and to enjoy the sublime gra- tifications of a rational capacity. When darkness covered the creation, at thy com- mand the sun arose, painted the flowers, and distinguished every object ; gave light to my feet, and gave nature with all her ON THE NIGHT. 95 beautifui scenes to my eye. To thee, O thou God of my strength, I owe the con- tinuance of my being, and the vivacity of my constitution. By thy sacred order, with- out any consciousness of mine, the wheels of life move, and the crimson fountain plays. Overruled by thy exquisite skill, it trans- forms itself, by the nicest operations of an inexplicable kind of chemistry, into a variety of the finest secretions, which glide into the muscles, and swell them for action, or ])our themselves into the fluids, and repair their incessant decays ; which cause cheer- fulness to sparkle in the eye, and health to bloom in the cheek. " Disastrous accidents, injurious to the peace of my mind, or fatal to the welfare of my body, beset my paths. But thy faithfulness and truth, like an impenetrable shield, guarded me all around. Under this divine protection, I walked secure amidst legions of apparent perils ; and passed un- hurt through a far greater multiplicity of unseen evils. Not one of my bones was broken ; not a single shaft grazed upon my ease ; even when the eye that watched over me, saw, in its wide survey, thousands fall- ing beside me in irrecoverable ruin, and ten thousands deeply wounded on my right hand. If sickness has at any time saddened my chamber, or pain harrowed my flesh, it was a wholesome discipline, and a gracious severity. The chastisement proved a so- vereign medicine to cure me of an immode- rate fondness for this imperfect trouble- some state, and to quicken my desires after the imembittered enjoyments of my eternal home. Has not thy munificence, unwearied and unbounded, spread my table, furnished it with the finest wheat, and rej)lenished it with marrow and fatness : while temper- ance sweetened the bowl, appetite seasoned the dish, contentment and gratitude crown- ed the repast ? Has not thy kindness, O God of the family of Israel, preserved my affectionate relations, who study by their tender offices to soften every care, and heighten every joy ? Has not thy kindness given me valuable friends, whose presence is a cordial to cheer me in a dejected hour, and whose conversation mingles improve- ment with delight ? " When sin lay disguised amidst flowery scenes of pleasure ; enlightened by thy wis- dom, I discerned the latent mischief; made resolute by thy grace, I shunned the lusci- ous bane. If, through the impulse of sen- suality, or the violence of passion, I have been hurried into the snare, and stung by the serpent ; thy faithful admonitions have recalled the foolish wanderer, while the blood of thy Son has healed his deadly wounds. Some, no doubt, have been cut off in the midst of their iniquities, and transmitted from the thrillings of polluted joy to the agonies of eternal despair ; whereas I have been distinguished by long- suffering mercy ; and, instead of lifting up - my eyes in torments, to behold a heaven ir- recoverably lost, I may lift them up under the pleasing views of being admitted, ere long, into those abodes of endless felicity. In the mean time, thou hast vouchsafed me the revelation of thy will, the influences of thy Spirit, and abundance of the most ef- fectual aids, for advancing in knowledge, and growing in godliness ; for becoming more conformable to thy image, and more meet for thy presence ; for tasting the plea- sures of religion, and securing the riches of eternity. " How various is thy beneficence, O thou lover of souls ! It has unsealed a thousand sources of good ; opened a thousand ave- nues of delight ; and heaped blessings upon me with a ceaseless liberality. If I shoifld attempt to declare them, they would be more than the starry host which glitter in this unclouded sky ; more than the dewy gems, which will adorn the face of the morning. " And, shall I forget the God of my sal- vation, the author of all my mercies ! Rather let my pulse forget to beat. Shall I render him no expressions of thankfidness ? Then might all nature reproach my ingratitude. Shall I rest satisfied with the bare acknow- ledgment of my lips ? No ; let my life be vocal, and speak his praise, in that only ge- nuine, that most emphatical language, the language of devout obedience. Let the bill be drawn upon my very heart ; let aU my affections acknowledge the draught ; and let the whole tenor of my actions, in time and through eternity, be continually paying the debt, the ever-pleasing, ever-growing debt of duty, veneration, and love. " And can I, O thou guide of my goings, and guardian of all my interests, can I dis- trust such signal, such experienced good- ness ? Thou hast been my helper through all the busy scenes of day ; therefore under the shadow of thy wings will I repose my- self, during the darkness, the danger, and death-like inactivity of the night-. What- ever defilement I have contracted, wash it thoroughly away in redeeming blood ; and let neither the sinful stain, nor the sinful inclination, accompany me to my couch. Then shiUl I lay me down in peace, and take my rest ; cheerfully referring it to thy all-wise determination, whether I shall open my eyes in this world, or awake in the un- knowTi regions of another. CONTEMPLATIONS ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. This evening, I exchange the nice retreats of art, for the nohle theatre of nature. In- stead of measuring my steps, under the co- vert of an arbour, let me range along the summit of this gently rising hill. There is no need of the leafy shade, since the sun has quitted the horizon, and withdrawn his scorching beams. But see how advanta- ges and inconveniences are usually linked, and chequer our affairs below ! If the an- noying heat ceases, the landscape and its pleasing scenes are also removed. The ma- jestic castle and the lowly cottage are ^'an- ished together. I have lost the aspiruig mountain, and its russet brow ; I look round but to no purpose, for the humble vale, and its flowery lap. The plains whitened ^vith flocks, and the heath yellow with furze, dis appear. The advancing night has wrapt in darkness the long extended forest, and drawn her mantle over the windings of the silver stream. I no longer behold that lux- uriant fertility in the fields, that wild magni- ficence of prospect, and endless variety of images, which have so often touched me with delight, and struck me with awe, from this commanding eminence. The loss, however, is scarcely to be re- gretted ; since it is amply compensated by the opening beauties of the sky. Here I enjoy a free view of the whole hemisphere, without any obstacle from below to confine the exploring eye, or any cloud from above, to overcast the spacious concave. It is true, the lively vermillion, which so lately streaked the chambers of the west, is all faded ? But the planets, one after another, light up their lamps ; the stars advance in their glittering train ; a thousand and a thou- sand luminaries shine forth in successive splendours ; and the whole fii-mament is kindling into the most beautiful glow. The bliieiicss of the ether, heightened by the sea- son of the year, and still more enlivened by the absence of the moon, gives those gems of heaven the strongest lustre. One pleasure more the invading gloom has not been able to snatch from my sense. The night rather improves than destroys the fragrance which exales from the bloom- ing beans. With these the sides of this slopping declivity are lined ; and with these the b,()Oll times, according to the lowest reckon- ing. Sir Isaac Newton computes the sun to bs 9(1(1, fKH* times bigger than the i.arlh.—7W'i,''<"<*' I'/'Ho- siiphcr, p. 740 ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 9J) A line, extending from side to side, tlu'ough the centre of that resplendent orb, would measure more than eight hundred thousand miles : a girdle, formed to go round its cir- cumference, would require a length of mil- lions : were its solid contents to be estima- ted, the account would overwhelm our un- derstanding, and be almost beyond the power of language to express. * Are we startled at these reports of philosophy? Are we ready to cry out in a transport of surprise. How mighty is the being, who kindled such a prodigious fire, and keeps alive, from age to age, such an enormous mass of flame ? Let us attend to our pliilosophic guides, and we shall be brought acquainted with speculations more enlai-ged and more amaz- ing. The sun, with all its attendant planets, is but a very little part of the grand ma- chine of the universe. Every star, though in appearance no bigger than the diamond that glitters upon a lady's ring, is really a vast globe, like the sun in size, and in glory ; no less spacious, no less luminous, than the radiant source of our day. So that every star is not barely a world, but the centre of a magnificent system : has a retinue of worlds, irradiated by its beams, and revolving round its attractive influence ; all which are lost to our sight in unmea- surable wilds of ether. That the stars ap- pear like so many diminutive, and scarce distinguishable points, is owing to their im- mense, and inconceivable distance. Im- mense and inconceivable indeed it is ; since a ball, shot from a loaded cannon, and flying with imabated rapidity, must travel, at this impetuous rate, almost seven himdred thou- sand years,f before it could reach the near- est of those twinkling luminaries. Can any thing be more wonderful than these observations ? Yes ; there are truths far more stupendous ; there are scenes far more extensive. As there is no end of the almiglity Maker's greatness, so no imagi- nation can set limits to his creating hand. Could you soar beyond the moon, and pass through all the planetary choir ; could you wing your way to the highest apjiarcnt star, and take your stand on one of the loftiest pinnacles of heaven — you would there see other skies expanded ; another sun distri- buting his inexhaustible beams by day ; other stars that gild the horrors of the al- ternate night ; and other,^ perhaps nobler, * Dr. Derham, after havingcalculated the dimensions of the planets, adds, "Amazing as these masses are, they are all far outdone by that stupendous globe of light, thesun ; which, as it is the foimtain of light and neat to all the planets about it, so doth it far surpass them all in its bulk ; its apparent diameter being computed at 822, 148 English miles, its ambit at 2,582,873 miles, and its solid contents at, 29U,971,00O,000,0U0,0U0." Astro-Theology, Book I. ch. ii. + See Religious Philosopher, p.. 818. t See Astro-Theology, Book II. chap. ii. where the author, having assigned various reasons to support systems established — establislied in unknown profusion, through the boundless dimensions of space. Nor does the dominion of the universal Sovereign terminate there. Even at the end of this vast tour, you would find yourself advanced no farther than the sub- urbs of creation, arrived only at the frontiers of the great Jehovah's kingdom." And do they tell me that the sun, the moon, and all the planets, are but a little part of his works ? How great, then, are his signs ! and how mighty are his wonders. ( Dan. iv. 3. ) And if so, what is the Cre- ator himself? How far exalted above all praise ! who is so high, that he looks do«ai on the highest of these dazzling spheres, and sees, even the summit of creation, in a vale ! so great, that this prodigious extent of space is but a point in his presence ; and all this confluence of worlds, as the lightest atom, that fluctuates in air, and sports in the meridian ray.j- Thou most sublime and incomprehen- sibly glorious God, how I am overwhelmed with awe ! how simk into the lowest pro- stration of mind ! when I consider thy " ex- cellent greatness," and my own utter insig- nificancy ? And have I, excessively mean as I am, have I entertained any conceited apprehensions of myself; have I felt the least elatement of thought, in the presence this theory of our modem astronomers, adds, " Be- sides the fore-mentioned strong probabilities, we have this farther recommendation of such an account of the universe, that it is far more magnificent, and worthy of the infinite Creator, than any other of the narrower schemes." » Job, after a most beautiful dissertation on the mighty works of God, as thevare distributed through universal nature, from the heights of heaven to the very depths of hell, closes the magnificent account with this acknowledgment ; Lo ! these are parts of his ways. Or, as the original word more literally sig- nifies, and may, I think, be more elegantly rendered. These are only the skirts, the very uttermost borders of his works. No more than a small preface to the immense volume of the creation, l-'rom the Hebrew (cjctremities,) I cannot forbear thinking on the ex- treme and very attenuated fibres of the root, whetj compared with the whole substance of the trunk ; or on the exquisitely small size of the capillary vessels, when compared with the whole structure of the body. Job xxvi. 14. t This puts me in mind of a very fine remark on a scriptural beauty and a solid correction of the com- mon translation, made by that learned, sagacious, and devout expositor Vitringa. Isa. xl. 1.5. We find it written of the Supreme Being, that he tnketh up the isles as n very little thit^i;. Which, our critic observes, is neither answerable to the import of the original, nor consonant to the structure of the discourse. The prophet had no intention to inform mankind what the iVlmighty could do with regard to the islands, if he pleased to exert uncontrollable power. His design was to show how insignificant, or rather what mere nothings they are, in his esteem, and before his Ma- jesty. The islands, says he, tho\igh so spacious as to afford room for the erection of kingdoms, and the abode of nations; though so strong as to withstand, for many thousands of years, the raging and reiterat- ed assaults of the whole watery world, are yet, before the adored Jehovah, small as theminutestgrainwhich the eye can scarce discern, light as the feathered mote which the least breath hurries away like a tempest. Insults sunt ut leve quid, quod avolat. The deep- rooted islands are as the voLitile atom, which by the gentlest undulations of the air, is wafted to and fro in perpetual agitation. 100 CONTEMPLATIONS of so majestic and adorable a being? How should this wound me with sorrow, and co- ver me with confusion ! O my God, was I possessed of all the high perfections, which accomplish and adorn the angels of light ; amidst all these noble endowments I would fall down in the deepest abasement at thy feet. Lost in the infinitely superior blaze of thy uncreated glories, I would confess myself to be nothing, to be less than no- thing and vanity. How much more ought I to maintain the most unfeigned humilia- tion before thy divine majesty, who am not only dust and ashes, but a compound of ig- norance, imperfection, and depravity ! While, beholding this vast expanse, I learn my own extreme meanness, I would also discover the abject littleness of all terrestrial things. What is the earth with all her ostentatious scenes, compared with this astonishing grand furniture of the skies ? What, but a dim speck hardly perceivable in the map of the universe? It is observed by a very judicious writer,* that if the sun himself, which enlightens this part of the creation, was extinguished, and all the host of plan- etary worlds which move about him, were annihilated ; they would not be missed by an eye that can take in the whole compass of nature, any more than a grain of sand upon the sea-shore. The bulk of which they consist, and the space which they oc- cupy, is so exceedingly little in comparison of the whole, that their loss would scarce leave a blank in the immensity of God's works. If then, not our globe only, but this whole system, be so very diminutive, what is a kingdom or a country ? what are a few lordships, or the so much admired pa- trimonies of those who are styled wealthy? When I measure them with my own little pittance, they swell into proud and bloated dimensions. But when I take the universe for my standard, how scanty is their size, how contemptible their figure ! They shrink into pompous nothings. When the keen-eyed eagle soars above all the feathered race, and leaves their very sight below : when she wings her way with direct ascent up the steep of heaven, and, .steadily gazing on the meridian sun, ac- counts its beaming splendours all her own : does she then regard with any solicitude, the mote that is flying in the air, or the dust which she shook from her feet ? And shall this eternal mind, which is capable of con- templating its Creator's glory, which is in- tended to enjoy the visions of his counten- ance ; shall this eternal mind, endued with such great capacities, and made for such ex- alted ends, be so ignobly ambitious as to sigh for the tinsel of state ; or so poorly covetous as to grasp after ample territories • SfDct. Vol. vjii. No. 565. on a needle's point? No; tnider the intiu- encG of such considerations, I feel my sen- timents expand, and my wishes acquire a tone of sublimity. My throbbing desires after worldly grandeur die away ; and I find myself, if not possessed of power, yet su- perior to its charms. Too long, must I own, have my affections been pinioned by vanity, and immured in this earthly clod.' But these thoughts break the shackles ;* these objects open the door of liberty. My soul, fired by such noble prospects, weighs anchor from this little nook, and coasts no longer about its contracted shores ; dotes no longer on its painted shells. The im- mensity of things is her range, and an infin- ity of bliss is her aim. Behold th's immense expanse, and ad- mire the condescension of thy God. In this manner, an inspired and princely as- tronomer improved his survey of the noc- tru-nal heavens. " AVhen I consider thy heavens, even the work of thy fingers, the moon and the stars, which thou hast ordain- ed : I am smitten with wonder at thy glo- ry, and cry out in a transport of gratitude, Lord, what is man, that thou art mindful of him ! or the son of man, that thou visitest him !" (Psalm viii. 3, 4.) How amazing, how charming, is that divine benignity, which is pleased to bow down its sacred re- gards to so foolish and worthless a creature ! yea, disdains not, from the height of infinite exaltation, to extend its kind providential care to our most minute concerns ! this is amazing. But that the everlasting Sover- eign should give his Son to be made fiesh, and become our Saviour ! shall I call it a miracle of condescending goodness ? Rather what are all miracles, what are all myster- ies, to this inefl^able gift ! Had the brightest archangel been com- missioned to come down, with the olive branch of peace in his hand, signifying his eternal Maker's readiness to be recon- ciled ; on our bended knees, v\'ith teai's of joy, and a torrent of thankfulness, we ought to have received the transporting news. But when, instead of such an an- gelic envoy, he sends his only begotten Son, his Son beyond all thought illustrious, to make us the gracious overture — sends him from the " habitation of his holiness and glory," to put on the infirmities of mortali- ty, and dwell in a tabernacle of clay ; sends him, not barely to make us a transient vi- sit, but to abide many years in our inferior and miserable world ; sends him, not to ex- The soul of man was made to walk the skies, Delightful outlet of her prison here ! There, disincumber'tl from her chains, the ties Of toys terrestrial, she can rove at large ; There freely can respire, dilate, extend. In full proportion let loose all her powers. Night-Thotiglits, No- ix. ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 101 crcise dominion over monarclis, but to wear out his life in the ignoble form of a ser- vant ; and at last, to make his exit under tne infamous character of a malefactor ! Was ever love like this ? Did ever grace stoop so low?* Should the sun be shorn of all his radiant honours, and degraded into a clod of the valleys ; should all the dignitar- ies of heaven be deposed from their thrones, and degenerate into insects of a day ; great, great would be the abasement : but nothing to thine, most blessed Jesus ! nothing to tliine, thou prince of peace ! when for us men, and for our salvation, thou didst not ab- hor the coarse accommodations of the man- ger ; thou didst not decline even the gloomy horrors of the grave. It IS well the sacred oracles have given this doctrine the most explicit confirmation, and evidence quite incontestible ; other- wise a favour so undeserved, so unexpectLd, and rich beyond all imagination, might stag- ger our belief. Could He who launches all these planetary globes through the illi- mitable void, and leads them on, from age to age, in their extensive career : could he resign his hands to be confined by the gird- ing cord, and his back to be ploughed by the bloody scourge ! Could he who crowns all the stars with inextinguishable bright- ness, be himself defiled with spitting, and disfigured with the thorny scar ! It is the greatest of wonders, and yet the surest of truths. O ! ye mighty orbs, that roll along the spaces of the sky ; I wondered a little while ago at your vast dimensions and ample circuits ; but now my amazement ceases, or rather is entirely swallowed up by a much more stupendous subject. Alethinks your enormous bulk is shrivelled to an atom, your prodigious revolutions are contracted * This reminds me of a very noble piece of sacred oratory, wliere, in a fine series of llie most beautiful gradations, the apostle displays the admirably conde- scending kindness of our Savfour. He thoui;}it it nn robbery, it was his indisputable right, to be equal with the infinite, self-existent, immortal God. Yet, in mercy to sinners, he emptied himself of the incom- municable honours, and laid aside the robes of incom- prehensible glory. VVhen he entered upon his medi- atorial state, instead of acting in the grand capacity of universal Sovereign, he took upon him the formof a servant; and not the form of those ministering spirits, whose duty is dignity itself, who are throned, though adoring. He took not on him the nature of nni^els, but stooped incomparably lower ; assumed a body of animated dust, and was made i» the likeness of men, those inferior and depraved creatures. Astonishing condescension ! but not sufficient for the overflowing richness of the Redeemer's love. For, beiiip found in fashion as a man, he humbled himself farther stiil ; occupied the lowest place, where all was low and ig- noble He notonly submitted to theyokeof the law, but also bore the infirmities, and ministered to the necessities of mortals. He even washed the feet of others, and had not where to lay his own head. Yea, he carried his meritorious humiliation to the very deepest degrees of possible abasement. He became obedient unto death ; and not to a common or natur- al death, but a death more infamous than the gibbet, more torturous than the rack, even the accursed (i<.-'i;h of the rros^, I'hil, ii <;— «. to a span, while I muse upon the far more elevated height.s, and unfathomable depths, the infinitely more extended lengths, and unlimited breadths, of the love of God in Christ Jesus ; (Eph. iii. 18, 19.) Contemplating this stately expanse, I see a mirror which represents in the most awful colours the heinousness of human guilt. Ten thousand volumes wrote on purpose to display the aggravations of my various acts of disobedience, could not so effectually convince me of their inconceiv- able enormity, as the consideration of that all-glorious person, who, to make an atone- ment for them, spilt the last drop of his blood. I have sinned, may every child of Adam say ; and what shall I do unto thee, O thou observer of men ?* Shall I give my first-born for my transgression, the iiuit of my body for the sin of my soul? vain com- mutation ! and such as would be rejected by the blessed God with the utmost abhor- rence. Will all the potentates that sway the sceptre in a thousand kingdoms, devote their royal and honoured lives to rescue an obnoxious creature from the stroke of ven- geance ? Alas ! it must cost more, incom- parably more, to expiate the malignity of sin, and save a guilty wretch from hell. Will all the principalities of heaven be con- tent to assume my nature, and resign them- selves to death for my pardon ?f Even this would be too mean a satisfaction for inex- orable justice ; too scanty a reparation of • Job vii. 21. Not preserver, as it stands in our version, hut observer of men. VVhich phrase, as it de- notes the exact and incessant inspection of the divine eye, as it intimates theabsoiuteimpossibility Ihatany transgression should escape the divine notice, is evi- dently most proper, both to assign the reason, and heighten the emphasis of the context. t Milton sets this thought in a very poetical and striking light. — All the sanctities of heaven stand round the throne of the supreme Majesty. God fore- sees and fortels the f 11 of man ; the ruin which will unavoidably ensue on his transgression ; and the ut- ter impossibility of his being able to extricate him- self from the abyss of misery. He, with his whole posterity must die ; Die he, e'er justice must ; unless for him .Some other able, and as willing, pay The rigid satisfaction, death for duath. After which aftecting representation, intending to raise the most tender emotions of pity, the following inquiry is addressed to all the sunrounding angels. Say, hcav'nly powers, where shall we find such love? Which of you will be mortal to redeem Man's mortal crime ? and die the dead to -lave ? He ask'd ; but all the heavenly choir stood mute, An(l silence was in heav'n. There is, to me at least, an inimitable spirit and beauty in the last circmiistance. Tiiat such an in- numerable multitude of generous and compassionate beings should be struck dumb with surprise and ter- ror at the very mention of the deadly forfeiture and ransom set ! no language is so eloquent as this silence. Words could not possibly have expressed, in so em- phatical a manner, the dreadful nature of the task ; theabsoluteinabihty ofany or all creatures to exe- cute it; the superemin;nt and matchless love of the eternal Son, in undertaking the tremendous work, not only without reluctance, but unsought, and un- implored, with readiness, alacritv and delight. Par. Loft, liv'jk in. line .'W. Kdit. Bent. 102 CONTEMPLATIONS God's injured honour. So flagrant is hu man guilt, that nothing but a victim of in finite dignity could constitute an adequate propitiation. He who said, " Let there be light, and there was light ;" let there be a firmament, and immediately the blue cur- tains floated in the sky ; he must take flesh ; he must feel the fierce torments of crucifix- ion ; and pour out his soul in agonies if ever such transgressors are pardoned. How vast is that debt, which all the wealth of both the Indies cannot discharge ! How vitiated that habit of body, which all the drugs produced by nature herself cannot rectify ! But how much more ruined was thy condition, O my soul ! how much more heinous were thy crimes! since nothing less than the stifl^eriiigs and death of IVIessiah, the Son of God, and radiant image of bis glory, could eflfect thy recovery, or cancel thy iniquity. Though, perhaps, thou art not sunk so very deep in pollution as some of the most abandoned profligates, yet re- member the inestimable ransom paid to re- deem thee from everlasting destruction. Remember tliis, and " never open thy mouth any more," (Ezek. xvi. 63,) either to murmur at the divine chastisements, or to glory in thy own attainments. Remem- ber this, and even " loathe thyself for the multitude of thy provocations," (Ezek. xxxvi. 31,) and thy great baseness, Once more let me view this beautiful, this magnificent expanse, and conceive some juster apprehensions of the unknown rich- ness of my Saviour's atonement. I am in- formed, by a writer who cannot mistake, that the High Priest of my profession, who was also the sacrifice for my sins, is higher than the heavens; (Heb. vii. 26,) more exalted in dignity, more bright with glory, than all the heavenly mansions, and all their illustrious inhabitants. If my heart was humbled at the consideration of its ex- cessive guilt, how do all my drooping pow- ers revive at this delightful thought ! The poor criminal, that seemed to be tottering on the very brink of the infernal pit, is raised by such a belief, even to the portals of paradise. My sclt-abaseinent, I trust will always continue, but my fears, under the influence of such a coiniction, are quite gone.* I do not, I cannot doubt the effi- cacy of tliis propitiation. While I see a glimpse of its matchless exetllency, and * I am sorry to find, that some of my readpvs were a little disgusted at this expression, "' my fears are quite gone;" as thinking it discovered a tincture of arrogance in the writer, and tended to discourage the weak Christian. But I hope a more mature consider- ation will acquit me from bofh these charges. l''nr, what has the author said ? Only that at some pecu- liarly happy moments, when the Hoiv Ghost bears v/itness of Christ in his heart, and he is favoured with a glimpse of the Redeemer's matchless excel- lency— that in these brighter intervals of life, his trembling feaii with rc-y;nd to the decuive sciiteixe ' veiily believe myself interested ni its me- rits, I know not what it is to feel any mis- giving suspicions, but am steadfast in faith, and joyfid through hope. Be my iniquities like debts of millions of talents, here is more than full payment for all that prodigious sum. Let the enemy of mankind, and accuser of the brethi-en, load me with invectives ; this one plea, A Divine Redeemer died ! most thoroughly quashes every indictment. For though there be much tiu'pitude, and manifold transgres- sions, " there is no condemnation to those that are in Christ Jesus." Nay, were I chargeable with all the vilest deeds which have been committed in every age of the world, by eveiy nation of men ; even in this most deplorable case I need not sink into despair. Even such guilt, though grie- vous beyond all expression, is not to be compared with that abundance of grace and righteousness which dwell in the incaniate Divinity. How great, how transcendently glorious, are the perfections of the adored Jehovah ! So great, so superlatively pre- cious, is the expiation of the dying Jesus. It is impossible for the human mind to ex- alt this atonement too highly ;* it is impos- sible for the humble penitent to confide in it too steadily. The scriptures of eternal truth have said it, (exult my soul, in the belief of it !) that the blood on which we rely, is God's oww blood ; ( Acts xx. 28, ) and therefore all-sufiicient to expiate, omni- potent to save. David, that egregious sinner, but more exemplary saint, seems to have been well acquainted with this comfortable truth. What else can be the import of that very remarkable, but most devout declaration ! " Thou shalt purge me-f with hyssop, and I shall be clean : thou shalt wash me, and I shalt be whiter than snow." I have been of the great tribunal, are turned into ;)Ieasing expect- ations. And what is there in such a declaration of- fensive to the strictest modesty, or dispiriting to the weakest belie\er ? Instead of creating disc-ourago- ment, it points out the way to obtain a settled tran- quillity. Its natural tendency is, to engage the seri- ous mind in a more constant and attentivemeditation on the unknown merits of the divine Mediator. And were we more thoroughly acq\iaint»d, more deejjly aflected, with his unutter,able dignity, I am persuad- ed our uneasy apprehensions would proportionally vanish : our faith be established, our hopes brighten- ed, and our joys enlarged. * This doctrine, though rich with consolation to the ruined sinner, yet, is it not likely to open a door for licentiousness, and emboldp>! transgressors to pro- secute their vices? No; it is the most powerful mo- tive to that genuine repentance which ilows from an unfeigned love of God, and operates in a hearty de- testation of all sin. One who knew the unmeasur- ab!e goodness of the Lord, and was no stranger to the sinfiil perverseness of our nature, says, " There is morcy with thee; therefore shalt tlniu be feared," I'salm cxxx. 4. Words full to mypuriinse; which at once add the highest authorily'to tins sentiment, and direct our minds to its proper inMuence, and due iirprovemcnt. + i>salmli.7 " Thou sh.ilt pnri;e." I prefpr this translation ht'fjrc the new one; Ir.cause this speaks ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 103 guilt)', I mast confess, of the most compli- cated and shocking crimes ; crimes, inflam- ed by every aggravating circumstance, with regard to myself, my neighbour, and my God. Myself, who have been blessed above men, and the distinguished favourite of Providence ; my neighbour, who, in the most dear and tender interests, has been ir- reparably injured ; my God, who might just- ly expect the most grateful returns of duty, instead of such enormous violations of his law. Yet, all horrid and execi-able as my offence is, it is nothing to the superabund- ant merit of that great Redeemer who was promised from the foundations of the world ; in whom all my fathers trusted ; who is the hope of all the ends of the earth. Though my conscience be more loathsome, with adulterous impurity, than the dunghill ; though treachery and murder have rendered it even black as the gloom of hell ; yet, washed in the fountain open for sin and for uncleanness, (Zech. xiii. 1,) I shall be, I say not pure only, this were a dispai'age- ment to the efficacy of my Saviour's death ; but I shall be fair as the lily, and white as the snow. Nay, let me not derogate from the glorious object of my confidence ; cleansed by this sovereign sanctifying stream, I shall be fairer than the full-blown lily, whiter than the new-fallen snows." Power, saitli the Scripture, belongeth unto God; (Psalmlxii.il.) And in what majestic lines is this attribute of Jehovah written throughout the whole volume of the creation ! especially through those magnifi- cent pages unfolded in yonder starry re- gions ; which are therefore styled, by the sweet and seraphic singer of Israel, " The firmament of his power." (Psalm cl. 1,) because the grand exploits of Omnipotence are there displayed with the utmost pomp, and recorded in the most legible characters. AVho that looks upward to the midnight sky, and with an eye of reason beholds its rolling wonders, who can forbear inquiring of what were those mighty orbs formed ? Amazing to relate : They were produced without materials ! They sprung from emp- tiness itself. The stately fabric of universal nature emerged out of nothing. What in- struments were used by the supreme Archi- tect, to fashion the parts with such exqui- site niceness, and give so beautiful a polish to the whole ? How was all coimected into one finely proportioned, and nobly finished structure ? A bare fiat accomplished all ! Let them be, saith God. He added no more ; and immediately the marvellous edi- the language of a more steadfast belief, and cives the highest honour to the divine goodness. Were the words intended to bear no more than the common yietitionary sense, and not to be expressive of a noble lilerophory of faith, they would rather havebeen im- peratives and not futures. fice arose, adorned with eveiy beauty, dis- playing innumerable perfections, and declar- ing, amidst enraptured seraphs, its great Creator's praise. " By the word of the Lord were the heavens made, and all the host of them by the breath of his mouth."* What forceful machineryfixed some of those ponderous globes on an immoveable basis ? What irresistible impulse bowled others through the circuit of the heavens ? What coercive energy confined their impetuous courses within limits astonishingly large, yet most minutely true ? Nothing but his sovereign will. For all things were at first constituted, and all to this day abide accord- ing to his ordinance. Without any toilsome assiduity, or kbori- oHs process, to raise, to touch, to speak such a multitude of immense bodies into being ; to launch them through the spaces of the sky, as an arrow from the hand of a giant ; to imjjress on such unwieldy masses a motion far outstripping the swiftness of the winged creation ;f and to contiiuie them in the same rapid whirl for thousands and thousands of years; what an amazing instance of infinite might is this ! Can any thing be impossible to the Lord, the Lord God, the Creator and Controller of all the ends of the earth, all the regions of the universe ? Rather, is not all that we count difficult, per- fect ease to that glorious Being, who only spake, and the world was made? (Psalm xxxiii. 9,) who only gave command, and the stupendous axle was lodged fast, the lofty wheels moved complete ? What a sure de- fence, O my soul, is this everlasting strength of thy God ! Be this thy continual refuge in the article of danger ; this tby * If this thought is admitted a second time, ami suffered to ennoble the next paragraph, it is partly because of its unequalled sublimity; partly, because it awakens the most grand idea of creating power ; and partly, because the practice of the Psalmist, an authority too great to be controverted, is my preced- ent. The beautiful stanza quoted from Psalm xxxiii. 6, is a proof how thoroughly the royal poet enter- ed into the majesty of the Mosaic narration. The repetition of tfie sentiment, verse 9, intimates how peculiarly he was charmed with that noble manner of describing the divine operations, while the turn of hisovvn composition shows how perfectly he possessed the same elevated way of thinking : And this, long before Longinus wrote the celebrated treatise, which has taught the Heathen, as well as the Christian world, to admire the dignity of the Jewish legislator's style. — fid. Longin. de Sublim. Sect ix. t To give one instance of this remark : The earth, in the diurnal revolution which it performs on its own axis, whirls about at the rate of above a thou- sand miles an hour. And, as the great orbit, wluch it describes annually round the sun, is reckoned at 540 millions of miles, it must travel near a million and a half each day. What a force must be requisite to protrude so vast a globe, and wheel it on, loaded as It is with huge mountains and ponderous rocks, at such a prodigious degree of rapidity ! It surpasses hu- man conception. How natural, how pertinent, how almost necessary after such an observation, is the ac- knowledgment made by holy Job ! "I know that thou canst do every thing, and that no thought, no imaginable scheme' can be withholden from thee, can lie beyond thy power to execute." Chap. xlii. 2. /04 CONTEMPLATIONS never-failing resource in every time of need. What cannot this uncontrollable power of the great Jehovah effect for his people ? Be their miseries ever so galling, cannot this God relieve them ? Be their wants ever so numerous, cannot this God sup- ply them ? Be their corruptions within ever so inveterate, or their temptations without ever so importunate, cannot this mighty, mighty God, subdue the former, and fortify them against the latter? Should trials, with an incessant vehemence, sift thee as wheat ; should tribulation, with a weight of woes, almost grind thee to powder ! should plea- sure, with her bewitching smiles, solicit thee to delicious ruin ; yet hold thou fast by God and lay thy help upon him that is omnipotent.* Thou canst not be in- volved in such calamitous circumstances, or exposed to such immiiient peril, but thy God, whom thou servest is able to deliver thee from the one, and to support thee imder the other. To support ! to deliver ! — Let me not dishonour the unlimUed great- ness of his power -. He is able to exalt thee from the deepest distress to the most triumphant joy ; and to make even a com- plication of evils work together for thy everlasting good. He is able, not only to accomplish what I have been speaking, but * It is a most charming description, as well as a most comfortable promise, which we find in Isaiah xl. 29, 311, ill. He giveth power to the feeble ; and to them that have no might at all, he not only impart- eth, but increaseth strength ; making it to abound, where it did not so much as exist. Without this aid of Jehovah, even the youths, amidst the very prime of their vigour and activity, shall become languid in their work, and weary in their course. And the young men, to whose resolution and abilities no- thingseemed impracticable, shall not only not succeed, but utterly fall, and miscarry in their various enter- prises. Wliereas they that wait upon the Lord, and confide in his grace, shall press on with a generous ardour from one degree of religious improvement to another. Instead of exhausting, they shall renew their strength ; difficulties shall animate, and toil in- vigorate them. They shall moimt up, as with soar- ing wings, above all opposition ; they shall be car- ried tlirough every discouragement, as eagles cleave the yielding air; They shall run with speed and alac- rity the way of God's commandments, and not be weary: They shall hold on (progredienter, carpenti- ter) with constancy and perseverance in those peace- ful paths, and not faint ; but arrive at the end of their progress, and receive the prize of their high call- ing. To this most cheering doctrine, permit me to add its no less beautiful and delightful contrast. Eliphaz, speaking of the enemies of the righteous, says. Nihil e.Tcisum /actio nobis adversaria. We should reckon our language acquitted itself tolerably well, if, when deprecating the abilities of an adversary, it should re- present them weak as the scorched thread, feeble as the dissolving smoke. But these are cold forms of speech compared with the eloquence of the east. According to the genius of our Bible, all the power that opposes the godly, is a mere nothing ; or, to speak with a more empliatical air of contempt, a destroyed, an extir- pated nothing. Admire this expression, ye that are charmed with daring images, and (what Tally calls verbitm ardens) a spirited and glowing diction. Re- member this declaration, ye that fight the good fight of faith. The united force of all your enemies, be it ever so formidable to the eye of flesh, is before your almighty Guardian, nihil nihilissimtim, not only no- thing, but less than nothing, and vanity. Job xxii. 20. to " do exceeding abundantly tibuvc all that we Ciin ask or think.* O ! the wretched condition of the Avicked, who have this Lord of all power for their enemy ! O ! the desperate madness of the ungodly, who provoke the Almighty to jealousy ! Besotted creatures ! are you able to contend with your Maker, and enter the lists against incensed Omnipotence? Can you bear the fierceness of his wrath, or sus- tain the vengeance of his lifted arm ? At his presence, though awfully serene, the hills melt like wax, and the " mountains skip like frighted lambs." At the least in- timation of his displeasure, the foimdations of nature rock, and the pillars of heaven tremble. How then can a withered leaf endure, when " his lips are full of indigna- tion, and his tongue as a devouring fire ?" Or, can any thing screen a guilty worm, when the great and terrible God shall whet his glittering sword, and his hand take hold on inexorable judgment? When that hand, which shoots the planets — masses of exces- sive bulk,-|- with such surprising rapidity, through the sky ; that hand which darts the comets to such unmeasurable distances beyond the orbit of our remotest planet, beyond the pursuit of the strongest eye ; when tliat hatid is stretched out to punish, can the nuHiition of rocks, the intervention of seas, or even interposing worlds divert the blow ? Consider this, ambition, and bow thy haughty crest. Consider this, dis- obedience, and bend thy iron sinew ! O ! consider this, all ye that forget, or affront the tremendous Jehovah. He can, by a single act of his will, lay the universe in utter ruin ; and can he want power to bring you, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, to the dust of death, or to the flames of hell ? He has — I say not ten thousand lightnings to scorch you to ashes, ten thou- » I should in this place avoid swelling the notes any farther, were it not to take notice of tlie itiimita- ble passage quoted above, and to be found Ephesiaiis iii. a). Which, if 1 do not greatly mistake, is the most complete representation of divine power that it is possible for words to frame. To do all that our tongue can ask, is a miracle of might : But we often think more than we can express, and are actuated with groanings unutterable. Yet, to answer these vast desires, is not beyond the accomplishment of our heavenly Father. Nay, to make his gifts and his blessings commensurate to the largest stretch of hu- man expectations, is a small thing with the God of glory. He is able to do above all that the most en- larged apprehension can imagine ; yea, to do abund- antly more, exceeding abundantly more, than the mind itself, in the utmost exertion of all its faculties, is capable of wishing, or knows how to conceive. t One of the planets (Saturn) is supposed to be more than 90 times as big as the globe on which we live. According to the same calculation, the largest of the planets (Jupiter) is above 2(I0 times vaster than this vast collection of spacious forests, towering mountains, extensive continents, and boundless oceans. Such enormous magnitude ! winged with such prodigious s))eed ! It raises astonishment beyond expression. " With God is terrible majesty "' Job xxxvii. 22. " Who shall not fear thee, 6 Lord, and glorify thy name '" Rev. xv. 4. ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. I(\- Band tliuiiders to crush you into atoms ; but, wbat is uuspcakably more dreadful, be lias an army of terrors even in the look of bis angry countenance. His very frown is worse than destruction. I cannot dismiss tbis subject witbotit ad- miring tbe patience of the blessed God ; who, tliough so strong and powerful, yet is ])rovoked every day. Suiely, as is bis majesty, so is bis mercy — bis pity alto- gether commensurate to bis power. If I vilify but tbe name of an earthly monai-cb, I lose my liberty, and am conlined to the dungeon. If I ai)pear in arms, and draw tbe sword against my natural sovereign, my life is forfeited, and my very blood will scarce atone for the crime. But thee I have dishonoured, O thou king immorttd and invisible ! Against thee my breast has fomented secret disaiTcctioii ; my behavi- our has risen up in open rebellion; and yet I am spared, yet I am preserved. In- stead of bemg barnsbed from thy presence, I sit at thy table, and am fed fioni thy hand. Instead of pursuing me with thun- derbolts of \'engeance, thy favoin-s surround me on every side. That arm, that injured arm, which might justly fall, with irretriev- able ruin, on a traitor's bead, is most gra- ciously stretched out to caress him with the tenderest endearments, to cherish him wtb every instance of parental kindness ! O, thou mightiest, thou best of Beings, bow am I pained at my very soid, for such shameful and odious disingenuity ! Let me always abominate myself, as the basest of creatures, but adore that imwearied long suffering of thine, which refuses to be irri- tated ; love that unremitted goodness, which no acts of ingratitude coidd stop, or so much as check, in its gracious curi-ent. O ! let this stubborn heart, which duty could not bind, which threatenings could not awe, be the capti^•e, the willing captive, of such triumphant beneficence. I have often been struck with wonder at that almighty skiO, wliich weighed tbe moimtains in scales, and tbe bills in a ba- lance ; Mhich proportioned the waters in the hollow of its band, and adjusted tbe dust of the earth by a measure.* But how much * Isa. xl. 1-2. The dust of the earth, in this su- blime sci ipture, signifies the dry land, or soUd part of our globe ; which is placed in contradistinction to tiie whole collection of fluid matter, mentioned in the preceding clause. Perhaps this remarkable ex- pression may be intended to intimate, not only the extreme niceness which stated the dimensions of the world in general, or in the gross, but also that parti- cular exactness with which the very smallest mater- ials that constitute its frame, (not excepting each in- dividual atom) were calculated and disposed; — g. d. It isa small thing to say, no such enormous redund- ancies, as unnecessary ridges of mountains, were suf- fered to subsist. There was not so much as the least grain of sand superfluous, or a single particle of dust deficient. As the grand aim of the description is to celebrate the consummate wisdom exemplified in the creation, and to display that perfect jiroportion with wliich every part tallies, coincides, and harmonizes more niar\-ellous is that magnificent econ- omy, which poised tbe stars with inexpress- ible nicety, and meted out the heavens with a span ! where all is prodigiously vast, im- mensely various, and yet more than mathe matically exact. Siu'ely tbe wisdom of God manifests itself in the skies, and shines in those lucid orbs ; shines on the contem- plative mind, with a lustre incomparably brighter than that which their united splen- doiu-s transmit to tbe eye. Behold yonder countless multitude of globes ; consider their amazing magnitude ; regard them as the sovereigns of so many systems, each accompanied with his jilane- taiy equipage. Upon tb.is supposition, what a multiplicity of mighty spheres must be peqietually running their rounds in the up- per regions ! Yet none mistake tlieir way, or wander from the goal, though they pass through trackless and unboimded fields. None tly off from their orbits into extra^a- gant excursions ; none press in upon their centre, with too near an approach : none in- terfere with each other in their perennial passage, or intercept the kindly communica- tions of another's influence. * But all their rotations proceed in eternal harmony, keep- ing such time, and obsemng such laws, as are most exquisitely adapted to the perfec- tion of tbe whole. Wliile I contemplate this excellent \ns- dom, which made the heavens, and attunes all their motions, how am I abashed at that mixtme of arrogance and folly which has at any time inclined me to murmur at thy dis- pensations ? O Lord, what is this, but a sort of implicit treason against thy supre- macy, and a tacit denial of thy infinite un- derstanding ! Hast thou so regularly placed such a wonderful diversity of systems through the spaces of the universe ? Didst thou, without any probationary essays, without any improving retouches, speak them into the most consummate perfection ? Dost thou continually superintend all their cir- cumstances, with a sagacity that never mis- takes the minutest tittle of propriety ? And shall I be so unaccountably stupid, as to question tbe justness of thy discernment in choosing my inheritance, and fixing tbe bounds of my habitation ? Not a single er- ratum, in modelling the structm'e, determin- ing the distance,! and conducting the ca- with the whole, I have taken leave to alter the word of our English translaiioneomprehend, and introduce in its stead a term equally faithful to the Hebron', and mere significative of the prophet's precise idea. * T he interception of light, by means of an eclipse happens very rarely, and then it is of so short a con- tinuance as not to be at all inconvenient. Nay, it is attended with such circumstances as render it rathci useful than prejudicial. i The sun in particular, (and let this serve as a spe- cimen of that most curious exactness with which the other celestial bodies are constituted, and all their circumstances regulated,) the sun is formed of such a determinate magnitude, and placed at such a coii- venient distance, "as not to annoy, but only re- 106 CONTEMPLATIONS rcer of unmiinbered worlds ! And shall my jjeevish humoiir presume to censure thy in- terposition with regard to the affairs of one inconsiderable creature ; whose statm-e, in such a comparative view, is less than a span, and his present diu-atioii little more than a moment ? O ! thou God, " in whose hand my breath is, and whose are all my ways," let such sentiments as now possess my thoughts be always lively on my heart ! These shall compose my mind into a cheerfid acqides- cence and a thankful submission, even when afflictions gall the sense, or disappointments break my schemes. Then shall I, like the gratefid patriarch, (Gen. xii. 7,8,) in all the changes of my condition, and even in the depths of distress, erect an altar of ador- ing resignation, and inscribe it \nth the apostle's motto, " To God only wise." Then, shouldst thou give me leave to be the carver of my own fortunes, I woidd hum- bly desire to relinquish the grant, and re- commit the disposal of myself to thy mi- erring beneficence ; fully persuaded, that thy coimsels, though contrary to my fro- ward inclinations, or even afflictive to my flesh, are incomparably more eligible, than the blind impulse of my own will, however soothing to animal nature. On a careless inspection, you perceive no accuracy or uniformity in the position of the heavenly bodies. I'hey appear like an illustrious chaos ; a promiscuous heap of shining globes ; neither ranked in order, nor moving by line. But what seems confu- sion, is alj regularity. \VTiat carries a show of negligence, is really the result of the most masterly contrivance. You think, perhaps, they roA'e in their aerial flight ; but they rove by the nicest iide, and without the least error. Their circuits, though seem- ingly devious, their mazes, though intricate to our apprehensions,* are marked out, not indeed with golden compasses, but by the infinitely more exact determinations of the all-wise Spirit. So, what wears the appearance of calami- ty in the allotments appointed for the god- ly, has really the nature of a blessing. It issues from fatherly love, and will termin- ate in the richest good. If Joseph is snatched from the embraces of an indulgent parent, and abandoned to slavery in a fo- reign land, it is in order to save the whole fa- mily from perishing by famine, and to pre- serve the seed in whom all the nations of fresh us, and nourish the ground with its kindly warmth. If it was larger, it would set the earth on fire; if smaller, it would leave it frozen. If it was nearer us, we should be scorched to death ; if farther from us, we should not be able to live foi A-ant of heat." — Stackliousc's History of the Bible. * Mazes intricate. Eccentric, intervolved : yet regular Then most, wlien most irregular thrv seem Milton. the earth should be blessed. If he falls in- to the deepest disgrace, it is on purpose that he may rise to the highest honours. Even the confinement of the prison, by the un- searchable workings of Providence, opens his way to the right hand of the throne it- self. Let the most afflicted servant of Je- sus wait the final upshot of things : He wdl then discover the apparent expediency of all those tribidations which now, per- haps, he can hardly admit \vithout reluc- tance, or suSkv without some struggles of disatisfaction. Then, the gushing tear and the heaving sigh will be tm'ued into tides of gi-atitude and hymns of holy wonder. In the mean time, let no audacious railer presumptuously impeach the divine proce- diu"e ; but, adoring where we cannot com- prehend, let us expect the evolution of the mysterious plan. Then shall every eye perceive, that the seeming labyrinths of pro- ^ddence were the most direct and compend- ious way to effect his general piu^poses of grace, and to bring about each one's parti- cular happiness.* Then also shall it be clearly shown, in the presence of applaud- ing worlds, why Aartue pined in want, while vice rioted in affluence ; why amiable inno- cence so often dragged the dimgeon chain, while hoiTid guilt trailed the robe of state. That day of universal audit, that day of everlasting retribution, wiU not only vindi- cate but magnify the whole management of heaven. The august sessions shall close A\ath this unanimous, this glorious acknow- ledgment : " Though clouds and darkness, impenetrable by any human scrutiny, were sometimes round about the supreme con- ductor of things, yet righteousness and judg- ment were the constant habitation of liis seat, (Psalm xcvii. 2,) the invariable stan- dard of all his administrations." Thus (if I may illustrate the grandest truths by in- ferior occurrences) while we view the arras on the side of least distinction, it is void of any elegant fancy ; \\ ithout any nice strokes of art ; nothing but a confused jumble of incoherent threads. No sooner is the piece beheld in its proper arpect, but the suspect- ed rudeness ^■anishes, and the most cmious arrangement takes place. We are charmed with designs of the finest taste, and figures of the most graceful form. All is shaped with symmetiy, all is clad in beauty. The goodness of God is most eminently displayed in the skies. Coidd we take an understanding siu'\Ty of \\'hatever is formed by the divine Architect, throughout the whole extent of material things, our minds ^voiddbe transported with their excellencies. * The moral world, Which, though to us it seem; embroiled, moves on In higherordcr; fitted and impelled By Wisdom's finest liand, niul issuing all In general good.— T/iymwj)',' fl'inter, I, .'iSG, '"!' cW. ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 107 fuid our tongues echo back that great en- comium, they are good, very good, ( Gen. i. 31.) Most beautifid'in themselves ; con- trived by imemng wisdom, and executed with inimitable skill. Most usefid* in their functions ; exactly fitting the places they fiU, and completely answering the purposes for M'hich they were intended. All the parts of the inanimate creation proclaim, both by their intrinsic and relative excellen- cies, the all- diffusive beneficence of their Maker. How much more wonderful are the displays of divine indulgence in the worlds of life ! Because dead matter is incapable of delight, therefore the gracious Creator has raised innumerable ranks of perceptive existence ; such as are qualified to taste his bounty, and enjoy each a liappiness suited to its peculiar state. With this view, he fiu-nished the regions of inferior nature with an order and a series of sensitive beings. The waters teem wth shoals of fijiny in- habitants : The dry land swarms N^dth ani- mals of every order : The dwellings of the firmament are occupied by midtitudes of winged people. Not so much as a green leaf, jjhilosophcrs say, but lodges and ac- commodates its puny animalcule tenants, f And wherefore this diversity, this profusion of living creatures, flying the air, treading the ground, and gliding through the paths of the sea ? For this most glorious reason -. That the eternal Sovereign may exercise his superabundant goodness ; that his table may be furnished with millions and mUUons of guests ; that he may fill every hour, every * This kalokagathin of the universe, and all its parts, has heen very highly and very justly extolled by the ancient inquirers into nature ; and was indeed an il- lustrious scene spread before the sages of the Heathen world, wherein to contemplate the goodness and the glories of the supreme Being. It was nobly said by a Pagan philosopher, on this occasion, " That God, when he undertook tlie work of creation, transf rul- ed hiTiself into love." l-.ut he need not transform himself into this amiable principle; for " God is love :" as was much more nobly said by one whom that philosopher would have termed a barbarian. 1 John iv. 8. t A very celebrated poet, in a beautiful paragraph on this subject, informs his readers, that all nature swarms with life. In subterranean cells, the earth heaves with vital motion. Even the hard stone, in the very inmost recesses of its impenetrable citadel, holds multitudes of animated inhabitants. The pulp of mellow fruit, and all the productions of the or- chard, feed the invisible nations. Each liquid, whe- ther of acid taste or milder relish, abounds with va- rious fornas of sensitive existence. Nor is the pure stream, or transparent air, « ithout their colonies of unseen people. In which constitution of things we have a wonderful instance, not only of the divine goodness to those minute beings, in giving them a ca- pacity for animal gratifications, but of his tender care for mankind, in making them imperceptible to our senses. These, concealed By the kind art of forming heaven, escape The grosser eye of man : For, if tiie worlds In worlds enclosed should on his senses burst, From cares ambrosial, and the nectar'd bowl. He'd turn abhorrent ; and in dead of night. When silence sleeps o'er all, be stmin'd with noise. Tltomson's Suiniticr, moment, their mouths with food, oj- their hearts with gladness. But what a small theatre are three or four elements for the operations of Jeho- vah's bounty ! His magnificent liberality sconis such scanty limits. If you ask, wherefore has he created all worlds, and re- plenished them with an unknown multipli- city of beings, rising one above another, in an endless gradation of still richer endow- ments, and still nobler capacities ? The answer is, for the manifestation of his own glory, and especially for the communication of his inexhaustible beneficence.* The great Creator could propose no advantage to himself. His bliss is incapable of any addition. " Before the mountains were brought forth, or ever the earth and the world wei'e made," he was supremely happy, in his own indei)e!ident and all-suilieient self His grand design, therefore, in erect- ing so many stately fabrics, and peopling them with so many tribes of inhabitants, was to transfuse his exuberant kindness, and impart felicity in all its forms. Ten thousand worlds, stocked with ten thousand times ten thousand ranks of sensitive and intelligent existence, are so many spacious gardens, which, with rivers of connnunicated joy, this overflowing fountain waters con- tinually. Boundless,-)- and (which raises our idea of this divine principle to the very highest degree of perfection) disinterestedf nuiiiifi- cence ! How inexpressibly amiable is the blessed God, considered in this charming light ! Is it possible to conceive any excel- lence so adorable and lovely, as infinite be- nevolence, guided by unerring wisdom, and exerting almighty power, on pm-pose to make a whole universe happy ? O my soul, what an irresistible attractive is here ! what a most worthy object for thy most fervent afl^ection ! shall now every glittering toy become a rival to this transcendently bene- ficent being, and rob him of thy heart ? No, let his all-creating arm teach thee to trust in the fulness of his sufficiency ; let his all- superintending eye incline thee to acquiesce in the dispensations of his providence : and let his bounty, so freely vouchsafed, so * A sacred writer, considering thii delightful sub- ject, and confining his observation within the nanow limits of his own country, cries out with a mixture of amazement and gratitude; " How great is his good- ness, and how great is his beauty !" Who then can forbear being lost in wonder, and transported wiih delight, when heextends his survey to those in finitely more copious communications of divine bounty. which, like salutary and refreshing streams, run through all worlds, and make not only the litt'e va- leys of a single kingdom, but the immensity of cre.v tion laugh and sing? Zech. ix. 17. t In this sense, " There is none good but o'lf , that is God." None universally and essentially good ; none whose goodness extends itself, in an inSiite variety of blessings, to every capable object; or who always dispenses his favours' from the sj'.e iiri:.;i,de of free and disinterested bcne\ olence. 108 CONTEMPLATIONS amply diirused, induce thee to love him, v.'ith all the ardour of a grateful and admir- ing sold ; induce thee to sen-e him, not with a joyless awe, or slavish dread, but with unfeigned alacrity, and a delightful complacency. If the goodness of God is so admirably seen in the works of nature and the favoius of providence, with what a noble superiority does it even triumph in the mystery of re- demption ! * Redemption is the brightest mirror in M^hich to contemplate this most lovely attribute of the Deity. Other gifts are only as mites from the divine trea- sury ; but redemption opens, I had almost said exhausts, all the stores of indidgence and grace. Herein " God commendeth his love ," (Rom. v. 8 ;) not only manifests, but sets it off, as it were, with every bright and grand embellishment ; manifests it in so stu- pendous a maimer, that it is beyond par- allel ; beyond thought ; " above all blessing and praise." Was He not thy Son, ever- lasthig God, thy only Son, the Son of thy bosom from eternal ages, tlie highest object of thy complacential delight ? Was not thy love to this adorable Son incomparably gi'eater than the tendercst affection of any, or the united affections of all mortal pa- rents? Was not the blessed Jesus more illustrious in excellency than all angels ; more exalted in dignity than all heavens ? Yet didst thou resign him for poor mortals, for \ile sinners ! Couldst thou see him de- scend from his royal throne, and take up his abode in the sordid stable ? see him fore- go the homage of the seraphim, and stand exposed to the reproachful indignities of an insolent rabble ! see him arraigned at the bar, and sentenced to death ; numbered with malefactors, and nailed to the gibbet ; bath- ed in his own innocent blood, and pouring out his soul in agonies of sorrow ! Could the Father, the Father himself, ^\^th nn- kno\\ai i)hilanthropy,f say, " It shall, it sliall be so ! JVIy pity to rebellious man pleads, and prevails. Awake, therefore, O sword, (Zech. xiii. 7,) edged with divine wrath ! awake, and be sheathed in that immaculate * In this, and in otherpartsof the Contemplations, the reader will observe, that the attributes of the Deity are represented as shining with more distin- guished lustre in the wondors of redemption than in the works of creation. If such remarks should seem to be xuiprecedented, or to stand in need of a vindi- cation, permit me to subjoin the sentiments of a great critic equally versed in both those sublime theories. " In a perfect orator,'' he says " Tully re- quires some skill in the nature of heavenly boaies; because his mind will become more extensive and un- confined ; and when ho descends to treat of human affairs, lie will both think and write in a more exalted and magnificent manner. For the same reason, that excellent master would liave recommended the study of those great and glorious mysteries, which revela- tion has discovered' to us; to which the noblest parts of this system of the world are as much inferior, as the creature is less excellent than the Creator." Sper/aini , vol. xiil. no. C.T5. t rhilaiilhropy, thai is loving-Uindncss to man. breast ; pierce that dearly beloved heart. I am content that my Son endiu-e the sharp- ness of death, rather than sinful mortals perish for ever." Incomprehensible love ! May it htinceforward be the favotuite sub- ject of my meditation, more delightful to my musing mind than applause to the ambitious ear ! IMay it be the darling theme of my discourse ; sweeter to my tongue than the droppings of the honey comb to my taste ! May it be my choicest comfort through all the changes of life ; and my reviving cor- dial even in the last extremities of dissolu- tion itself ! A prophet, contemplating with a distant siu-vey this unexampled instance of Almighty love, is wrapt into a transport of devotion. At a loss for proper acknowledgments, he calls upon the whole universe to aid his la- bouring breast, and supply his lack of praise. Sing melodiously, ye vaulted heavens ; ex- vlt, and even leap for glachiess, thou cum- brous earth ; ye mountains, break your long silence, and burst into peals of loudest ac- clamation ;* for the Lord, by his precious gift, and this great salvation, hath comfort- ed his people. A sacred historian hath left it upon record, that at the first exhibition of this ravishing scene, there was with the an- gel who brought the blessed tidings, a mul- titude of the heaveidy host, praising God, and making the concave of the skies resound with their hallelujahs. At the dawn of the Sun of Righteousness, when he was begin- ning to rise with healing in his \^^ngs, the morning-stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy. And shall man, whom this gracious dispensation principally respects ; shall man, who is the centre of all these gladdening rays ; shall he have no heart to adore, no anthem to celebrate, this Love withoiU end, and without measure, grace ? Milton. How pure is the state of the sky, and how clear its aspect ! Clearer than the lim- pid stream, purer than the transparent crys- tal, and more curiously fine than the po- lished mirror. That stately ceiling fretted with gold, and stretched to an extent of many millions of leagues, is not disfigured mth a single flaw. That azure canopy. * Isa. xlix. 13. I have not adhered to our common translation, but endeavoured to preserve, somewhat more faithfully, the noble pathos, and inimitable energy of the sacred original. The love of God man- ifested in a divine and dying Saviou , is a blessing of such inconceivable richness, as must rende • all ac- knowledgments flat and all encomiums languid. Yet I think the most poetical and most emphatical cele- bration of that unspeakable instance of goodness, is contained in this rapturous exclamation of the pro- phet ; which intimates with a wonde, ful majesty of sentiment, that even the whole compass of the inani- mate creation, could it be sensible of the benefit ai d capable of delight, would exp' ess its gratitude in all these demonstrations of the most lively and exuber- ant joy. ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 109 embroidered with stars, and spacious enough to form a covering for unnumbered worlds, is w-ithout the least spot or wiinkle. Yet this, even tliis, ^\aLl scarce peld us so much as a faint representation of the divine puri- ty. God is a God of matchless and trans- cendent exceUency. His ways are upright- ness itself. His counsels and words are the very sancrity of wisdom and of truth. The laws which he hath given to imiversal nature, are exquisitely contrived, and beyond all possibility of improvement. The pre- cepts wliich he hath appointed for the hu- man race^are a complete summaiy of all that is honoiu'able in itself and perfective of the rational mind. Not the least oversight, in planning a series of events for all futuri- ty. Not the least mal-administration, in managing the affairs of ever}- age since time began, and of eveiy nation luider the ^^•hole heavens. Pardon these disparaging ex- pressions : A negative perfection is far, far beneath thy dignity, O thou most liighest.* In all these instances, in all thy acts, and all thy attributes, thou art not only holy, but " glorious m holiness." So inconceivably holy is the Lord God of hosts, that he sees delilement even in the brightness of the firmament. The li\ang sapphire of the heavens, before liis majesty, loses its lustre. Yea, the stars, (though the most piu-e and resplendent part of the heavens) are not pme in his sight. How much less man, who in his fallen and de- praved state, is but as a worm that crawls in the cornipted carcase ; and the Son of Man, who, by reason of liis manifold ac- tual imj)urities, is too justly compared to an insect, that wallows amidst stench and pu- trefaction ?f Is there not then abiuidant * " O thou most highest." This expression occurs more than once in the psahns used by the established church. It is, I think, one of those beauties whicli, because often exhibited, generally escape our notice. It is a superlative formed on a superlative ; and, though not strictly conformable to grammatical rules, is nobly supeior to them all. The language seems to be sensible of its own deficiency, when the incom- prehensible Jehovah is addressed or celebrated. Op- pressed as it were with the glories of the subject, it labours after a more emphatical manner of diction than the ordinary forms of speech aflbrd. It is, if I rightly judge, one of those daring and happy pecu- liarities of a masterly genius, which Mr. Pope so fine- ly describes, and while he describes, exempliiies : Great wits sometimes may gloriously offend. And lise to faults true critics dare not mend ; From vulgar bouni s with brave disorder part. And snatch a grace beyond Uie reach of art. Essay on Criticism. St Paul's iiabe-utiful passage of the like nature: which our translators have very properly rendered, lets than tlie least of all sai?its. His polio mallon kreisson, is another instance of the s me kind. But here the English version fails. Far better is ■ xtreme- )y flaccid, compared with the nervous original. And 1 greatly question, whether it is possible to translate the sentence with equal conciseness, and with equal spirit. See Eph. iii. 8. Phil. i. 23. t Job XXV. 5, (j. I submit to the judgment of the learned, whether this is not the true meaning of the text. It may not, perhaps, recommend itself to the cause for the most irreproachable and emi- nent of mankind to renounce all arrogant pretensions, to lay aside eveiy assuming aii> to take notliing but shame and confusion to themselves ? A holy prophet, and a holy prince, felt such humbling impressions from a glimpse of the uncreated purity. I abhor myself in dust and ashes, (Job xlii. 6,) was the declaration of the one : I am a man of unclean lips, (Isaiah ^'i. 5,) the confessioiv of the other. Should not this teach us all to adore the divine mercies, for that precious purifjdng fountain,* which was foretold from the fomidation of the world, but was opened at that awful jimctiu-e, when knotty whips tore the flesh, ■^^•hen ragged thorns mangled the temples, when sharpened nails cut fresh sluices from the crimson ciu'rent, when the gash of the spear completed the di'cadful work, and forthwith flowed there- from the wounded heart blood and water Especially since God liimstlf saw no blemish in his dear Son. He looketh to the moon, and it shineth not ; yet his all- penetrating and jealous eye discerned no- thing amiss, nothing defective in our glori- ous Redeemer. Nothing amiss ? He bore this most illustrious testimony concerning his holy cliild Jesus ; " In him I am pleas- ed ; I am well pleased ; I acquiesce, with entire complacency and with the liighest de light, in his person, his undertaking, and the whole execution of his office. " How shoidd this thought enliven our hopes, while the other mortifies our pride ? Should not our hearts spring ^dthin us, and even leap for joy, at the repeated assiu'ance given us by revelation, that such a di\'inely excellent person is oirr Alediator? What apparent reason has ever}- believer to adopt the bless- ed virgin's exclamation, " My soid doth magnify the Lord for his transcendent mer- cy ; and my spirit rejoices, r:Ot in wide ex- squeamishly nice critic ; or to those persons who dream of, I know not what, dignity in our fallen nature. But it seems, in preference to every other interpret tation, suitable to the sacred context ; and is far from being injurious to tie character of that apostate race, which is " altogether become abominable," and "is as an unclean thing." On this supposition there is not only an apparent, but a very striking contrast between the purity of God and the pollution of mr.n. Tlie purity of the most hi-h God, which outshines the moon and eclipses the stars ; the pollution of de- generate man, which, exclusive of a Saviour, would render him as loathsome to the all-seeing eye, as the vilest vermin are in ours. Without assigning this cense to the passage, I cannot discern the force of the antithesis, nor indeed the propriety of the sentiment. Worms, in the general, give us an idea, of meaimtss and infirm ty, not of deiilement and impurity, un- less they are insects hatched amidst putrefaction, and consideied in such noisome circumstances. The two words of the original are evidently used in this signi- fication by Moses and Isaiah ; by the fonner, to de- note the vermin which devoured the putrefied man- na; by the latter, to express the reptiles whichsv/arm in the body that seee corruption. Exod. xvi. 20. Isa. xiv. 11. • " In that day, there shall be a fountain opened to the house of David, and to llie inhabitants of Je- rusalem, for sin and for unckaiincas, Zcch. Jtlii. 1. no CONTEMPLATIONS tended han'ests, waxdiig over my fertile glebe ;* not in annies vanquished, and leav- ing the peculiar treasure of nations for my spoil ;* but in an infinitely richer, nobler blessing, even in God my Savioiu- :" That a person so sublime and perfect has vouch- safed to become my surety ; to give himself for my ransom in the world below, and to act as my advocate in the royal presence above ; yea, to make my recovery the re- ward of his sufferings ; my final felicity the honour of his mediatorial kingdom ! When an innumerable multitudef of bodies, many of them more than a hundred thousand miles in diameter,| are all set in motion ; when the orbits in which they per- form their periodical revolutions, are ex- tended at the rate of several hundreds of millions ; when each has a distinct and se- parate sphere for finisliing liis vast circuit ; when no one knov.s what it is to be cramp- ed, but each most freely exjjatiates, in his unbounded career ; when every one is placed at such an immense remove from each other, that they appear to their respective inhabitants, only as so many spots of light — how astonishing must be the expanse which yields room for all those mighty globes, and their \\adely-diffused operations ! To what prodigious lengths did the almighty builder stretch his line, when he marked out the stupendous platform ! I wonder at such an immeasiurable extent. ]\Iy veiy thoughts are lost in this abyss of space. But be it kno\\ai to mortals, be it never forgot by sinners, that, in all its most siu-- prising amplitude, it is small, it is scanty, compared with the bounty and the mercy of its Maker. His bounty is absolutely without limits,§ and without end. The most lavish gene- rosity cannot exhaust, or even diminish his munificence. O ! all ye tribes of men ; or rather, all ye classes of intelligent creatures, * The inspired penman, from these two occa- sions of distinguished joys,, sets forth the incompar- ably greater delight which arises from the gift of a Saviour, and tlie blessing of redemption ; Isa. ix. ver. 3. compared with ver. 6. t This refers, not only to the planets which pass and repass about our sun, but also to the other plan- etary worlds, which are supposed to attend the seve- ral fixed stars. t The diameter of Jupiter is calculated at 130,650 miles, while its orbit is reckoned to consist of 1)95,134, 000. Which computation, according to the maxims of astronomy, and the laws of proportion, may, as is taken for granted m the Contemplations, be applied to other planets revolving roimd other suns. § By bnunty, I menn not the actual exercises, or the sensible effects, of this e.-:ce!lency in the Deity. These are, and always must be, through the immense perfection of the attribute, and the necessary scanti- ness of the recipient, bounded. But I would be im- derstood as speaking of the divine power, and the di- vine will, to exert divine beneficence. These can have no real, no imaginable limits. These, after a profusion of blessings, distributed to umuu-nbered worlds, continued through unnumbered ages, must still have more to bestow, for ever have more to be- stow, infinitely more to bestow, than it is possible for creation itself to receive. ye are not straitened in the liberality of your ever-blessed Creator ; be not straiten- ed in yoiu- ovn\ expectations. " Open your mouth ^vide, and he shall fill it" mth copi- ous and continual di-aughts from the cup of joy. Yoiu" God, on whom is your whole dependence, is more than able, is more than willing, to " supply all yoiu" need, accord- ing to his riches in glory." AVhenthe Lord Jehovah is the giver, and his grace* the gift ; let your Avishes be imbounded, and your cravings insatiable. All that created beings can possibly covet, is but a veiy small pittance of that luiknowni liappiness which the everlasting Benefactor is ready to bestow. Suppose everj' charitable dis- position which warms the hearts of the hu- man race, added to those more enlarged af- fections which glow in heavenly bosoms ; what were they all, even in their highest exercise, compared with the benignity of the divine nature ? Bless me, then, thou eternal soiu-ce of love ; bless all that rever- ence thy holy name, according to thy own most profuse goodness, Avhose great prero- gative it is to disdain all measure. O ! bless us, in proportion to that grace, the richness of which (unutterable by the tongues of men and of angels) was once spoken in the groans, and written in the wounds, of thy expiring Son ! Spacious indeed are these heavens ! ^^'here do they begin ? where do they end ? M'hat is their extent ? Can angels answer my question ? have angels travelled the vast circuit ? can angels measure the bounds of space ? No ; it is boundless, it is ludcnown, it is amazing all. How charming, then, to reflect, that the mercy of God is " gi'eater than the heavens ; is more extensive than the dimensions of the sky." Transporting reflection ! Let me indulge thee once morc.f Let me think over the delightful displays of this lovely attribute ; and, while I admire the trophies of forgiving goodness, add one to the number. With what amiable and affecting colours is this represented in the ♦ 2 Cor. ix. 8. " God is able to make all grace abound towards you, that ye, having all sufficiency in all things, may abound to every good work." How beautiful and emphatical is this description ; inferior to nothing but that extent of ability, and those riches of liberality which it so eloquently celebrates. Doesit not exhaust all the powers of language, while it at- tempts to give us a specimen of the munificence ot the Lord ? t Once more refers to Reflections on a Flower Garden. Some of the following pages exhibit a di- gressive view of the divine mercy. I thought it pro- per to apprize my reader of this excursion ; though I hope it will be needless to offer any apology for en- larging upon a theme incomparably joyous. Who can complain of tediousness, while I speak consolation to distressed, and recovery to ruined creatures ? The divine mercy is the sole fountain of all our present and future blessings. In conformity to this benign attribute, human hopes arise, and human felicity flows. Who, therefore, can be weary of viewing and reviewing, when the lengths and breadths of forgiv- ing grace are the rav isliing prospect ? ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. Ill partible of the prodigal ! What could induce that foolish youth to forsake his father's house ? Had he not been tenderly cherished by the good parent, and loaded with bene- fits from his indulgent hand ? Were not the restraints of parental government an easy yoke ; or rather a presen'ative from ruin ? Notwithstanding every endearing ob- ligation, he revolts from his duty ; and launches into such scandalous irregularities, as were dishonourable to his family, and de- structive to himself. WTien necessity, not choice, but sharp necessity drove him to a submissive return, does the injured father stand aloof or shut his doors ? Quite the reverse. He espies him, while he is yet a great way off ; and the moment he beholds the profligate youth, he has compassion on liim. His bowels yearn, they " soimd like a hai-p," touched with notes di\dnely soft. He never once thinks of his ungracious de- parture, and infamous debaucheries. Pity, parental pity, passes an act of obli\aon ; and in one instant, cancels a series of long-con- tinued provocations. So strong are the workings of fatherly affection, that he is almost impatient to embrace the naked and destitute wretch. The son's pace is slow, he arose and came ; the father's is swift, he spiimg forth (aged as he was) and ran. And is there a single frovni in his brow, an upbraiding word on his tongue ? Instead of loathing the sordid creature, or reproaching him for his odious excesses, he falls on his neck, clasps him in his aims, and hugs him to his bosom. Instead of disowning t!:e riotous spendthrift, or rejecting him for his undutiful behaviour, he receives and wel- comes him with kisses of delight. He re- joices at his retiuiTi from extravagance and vice, as he formerly rejoiced on the day of his nativity. When this companion of har- lots opens his mouth — before he speaks, the father hears. He interrupts him in the midst of his intended speech. The over- flowings of his compassionate heart can brook no delay. He seems to be uneasy himself, till he has made the afflicted peni- tent glad with the assiu-ance of his accejjt- ance, and the (choicest of his favours. Wliile the poor abashed offender seeks nothing more than not to be abhorred, he is thoroughly reconciled, and honoured before the whole family. "WTiile he requests no other indidgence than oidy to be treated as the meanest sen'ant, he is clothed wth the best robe ; he is feasted wath the fatted calf; he is caressed as the dearest of child- ren. Was there ever so bright and win- ning a picture of the tenderest mercy, most freely vouchsafed, even to the most im- worthy of creatures ? Yet thits, my soid, and thus, my fellow-sinner, will the Lord (iod of everlasting compassions receive us, if, sensible of our niiscrj', and thirsting for salvation, we tiuni to liim thi-ongh Jesus Christ. Where sin has abounded, says the pro- clamation from the court of heaven, grace doth much more abound. Manasseh was a monster of barbarity ; for he caused his o\^'ii children to pass through the fire, and filled Jerusalem with innocent blood. Manasseh was an adept in iiuquity ; for he not oidy multiplied, and to an extravagant degree, his sacrilegious impieties, but he poison- ed the principles and perverted the man- ners of his subjects, making them to do worse than the most detestable of the hea- then idolaters, (2 Chron. xxxiii.) Yet, tlirough this superabimdant grace, he is humbled, he is reformed, and becomes a cliild of forgi\'ing love, an heir of immortal glory. Behold that bitter and bloody per- secutor Said, when, breathing out threaten- ings,* and bent upon slaughter, he worried the lambs, and put to death the disciples of Jesus. Who, upon the principles of human judgment, woidd not have pronounced him a vessel of wrath, destined to unavoidable damnation ? nay, woidd not have been ready to conclude, that, if there were heavier chains, and a deeper dungeon, in the world of woe, they must surely be reserved for such an implacable enemy of true godliness ? Yet (admire, and adore the inexhaustible treasures of grace !) this Saul is admitted into the goodly fellowship of the prophets ; is numbered vrith the noble army of max- t)Ts ; and makes a distinguished figure among the glorious company of the apos- tles. The Corinthians were flagitious even to a proverb. Some of them wallowed in such abominable vices, and habituated themselves to such outrageous acts of in- justice, as were a reproach to human niv ture. Yet even these sons of violence, and slaves of sensuality " v>'cre washed, were sanctified, ivere justified, (1 Cor. vi. .9, 10, 11) ; washed in the precious blood of a dying Redeemer ; sanctified by the power- ful operations of the blessed Spirit ; justd- * Acts ix. I. " Saul yet breathing out threatening and slaughter." — What a representation is here of a mind mad with rage, and abandoned to the fiercest extremes of barbarity ! I scarce know whether I am more shocked at tire persecutor's savage disposition, or c'narmed with the evangelist's lively description. The adverb ;/et seems referable to chap. viii. ver. .S. and has, in this connexioji, a peculiar force. The havoc he had committed, the inoffensive families he had already ruined were not suilicient to assuage his vengeful spirit. They were only a taste ; which, in- stead of glutting the blood-hound, made him more closely pursue the track, and more eagerly pant for destruction. He is still athirst for violence and mur- der. So eager and insatiable .s his thirst that he even breathes out threatening and slaughter. His words are spears and arrows, and his tongue a sharp sword. It is as natural for him to menace the Christ- ians, as to breathe the air. Nay, they bleed every hour, every moment, in the purposes of his rancor- ous heart. It is onlyowijig to want of power, that every syllable he utters, exeiy breath he d.aws, does not d^al r.bont deaths, and C'.usc some of the innocent disciples to f.ill. 11-2 CONTEMPLATIONS fied through the infinitely tender mercies of a gracious God. Those who were once the biu-den of the earth, are now the joy of heaven, and the delight of angels. There is another instance of Scripture, which most loudly publishes that sweetest of the divine names ! " The Lord, the Lord God, merciful and gracious, long-suf- fering, and abundant in goodness and tnith ; keeping mercy for thousands, forgiving ini- quity, transgression and sin," (Exod. xxxiv. 6, 7,) an instance this, which exceeds all the former ; which exceeds whatever can be imagined ; which, if I was to forget, the very stones might cry out, and sound it in my ears : I mean the case of those sinners who murdered the Prince of peace and Lord of glon,'. These men could scarce have the shadow of an excuse for their crime, hardJy a circumstance to extenimte • their guilt. They were well acquainted | \\'ith his exemplary conversation ; they had often heard his heavenly doctrines ; they were almost daily spectators of his unequal- led miracles. They therefore had all pos- sible reason to honour him as the most il- lustrious of beings, and to receive his gos- pel as the most inestimable of blessings. Yet, not\\'ithstanding all these engaging mo- tives to love him, even above their own lives, they seize his person, asperse his cliar- acter, drag him before a heathen tribunid, and extort a sentence of death against inno- cence and holiness itself. Never was the ^'il- est slave so contumeliously abused ; nor the most execrable malefactor so barbarously executed. The sun was confounded at the shocking scene ; and one cannot but won- der how the avenging lightnings coidd with- hold their fl i.shes. The earth trembled at the horrid deed ; and why, why did it not cleave asunder, and open a passage for such blood- tliirsty miscreants nito the nethermost hell ? Shall these ever hope to obtain forgiveness from the righteous Judge ? Shall not these be consigned o^'er to inexorable WTath, and the severest torments? O the miraculous effects of divine grace ! O the triumphant goodness of God oiu- Saviour ! Many, even of these impious wretches, at the descent of the Holy Ghost, were convinced of their miserable state ; were wounded with peni- tentiid remorse, fled to the sanctuary of the cross, had their pardon ratified by the bap- tismal seal, and, continuing in the apostles' doctrine, were made partakers of the king- dom of heaven ; where they now shine as so many everlasting monuments of most distinguished mercy, and receive beatitude past utterance from that very Redeemer whom once " with wicked hands tlicy cru- cified and slew." Well might the prophet cry out, with a pleasing amazement, " Who is a (iod like unto thee, that piu'doacth iniquity, and pasi- eth by transgression !" (Micah ni. 18.'; Let all flesh know assuredly, let all flesh rejoice greatly, that uath the Lord there is such mercy, and with his Clu'ist such plen- tiful redemption. And O ! for the voice of an archangel, to circulate the glad tidings through the universe, that the American sa- vage, as well as the European sage, may learn the exceeding riches of grace in Christ, tlu-ough whose infinitely great propitiation, all manner of sin, barbarity, and blasphemy, are freely forgiven unto men. What a grand and majestic dome is the sky ! Where are the pillars which supjjort the stately concave ? What art, most exact- ly true, balanced the pressme ? What props of insuperable strength sustain the weight ? How is that immeasurable arch upheld, im- shaken and unimpaired, while so many ge- nerarions of busy mortals have sunk imd disappeared as bubbles upon the stream ? If those stars are of such an amazing bidk, how are they also fastened in their lofty si- tuation ? By what miracle in mechanics are so many thousands of ponderous orbs kept from falling upon our heads ; kept from dashing both the world to pieces and its in- habitants to death ? Are they hung in golden or adamantine chains ? Rest they their enormous load on rocks of marble or co- lumns of brass ? No ; they are pendulous in fluid ether ; yet are more immoveably fixed, than if the everlasting mountains lent their • forests for an axle tree, or their ridges for a basis. The almighty Architect stretches out the north, and its whole starry train, over the empty place. He hangs the eai'th and all the etherial globes upon nothing. (Job xxvi. 7.) Yet are their foundations laid so siu-e, that they can never be moved at any time. No unfit representation to the sincere Christian, of his final perse\'erance : * such * With regard to the final perseverance of the true believer, I am sensible this point is not a little con- troverted. The sentiments which follow are my steadfast belief. It is by no means proper, in a wcrl; of this nature, to enter upon a discussion of the sub- ject. Neither have I room so much as to hint what might be urged for its support. Let my reader ob- serve, that I am far from delivering it as essential to Christianity, or necessary to salvation. Millions of the very contrary conviction are, I doubt not, higli in the favour of God, and in a growing meet- ness for his heavenly kingdom. As 1 blame none for rejecting, none, I hope, will be offended with me for espousing this particiUar doctrine. To be of different opinions, at least in some inferior in- stances, seems an unavoidable consequence of our present state, where ignorance in part cleaves to the wisest minds, and prejudice easily besets the mostim- pariial judgments. This may turn to our conunon advantage, and afford room for the display and exer- cis2 of those healing virtues, moderation, meekness, and forbearance. Let me only be permitted to ask, whether this tenet does not evidently tend to est?.- blish the comfort of tlie Christian, and to magjaify the fidelity of God our Saviour? Whether, far from countenancing slotl\, or encouraging remissness, to know that our labour should not be in vain, is not the most prevailing inducement to abound in the work of lite Lord ? I Cor. xv. j,}. ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 113 as poir.ts out the cause which effects it, and constitutes the pledge which ascertains it. His nature is all enfeebled. He is not able of himself to think a good thought. He has no visible safeguard, nor any sufficiency of his own. And yet whole legions of for- midable enemies are in a confederacy to compass his ruin. The world lays unnum- bered snares for his feet ; the devil is in- cessantly urging the siege, by a multitude of fiery darts, or wily temptations : the flesh, like a perfidious inmate, under colour of friendship, and a specious pretence of plea- sure, is always forward to betray his inte- grity. But amidst all these threatening cir- cumstances of personal weakness and im- minent danger, an in^^sible aid is his de- fence : " I will uphold thee," says the bless- ed God, •' \\atli the right hand of my right- eousness." (Isa. xli. 10.) Comfortable truth ! The arm which fixes the stars in their order, and guides the planets in their course, is stretched out to preserve the heirs of salvation. " My sheep," adds the great Redeemer, "are mine, and they shall never perish ; neither shall any pluck tliem out of my hand." (John x. 28.) What words are these ! and did they come from him who hath all power in heaven and on earth ? and were they spoken to the weakest of the flock ; to every unfeigned follower of the great Shepherd ? Then, Omnipotence it- self must be vanquished before they can be destroyed, either by the seductions of fraud, or the assaults of violence. If you ask, therefore, what security we have of enduring to the end, and continuing faithful unto death ? the very same that cs- tabUshes the heavens, and settles the ordin- ances of the universe. Can these he thrown into confusion ? (Jer. xxxi. S5, 36,) then I.S any one inclined to examine the reasons which made the avithor a proselyte to this persuasion ? He may find them displayed in tlie memorial, delivered by several select and eminent divines of the church of England, at the renowned synod of Ddfrdt. <.See Acta yynod Dordrech. par. 2, page 24fi of the Latin edition, published in a single quarto volume.) Those who have no opportunity of consulting the memoirs of that venerable assembly, I would lefer to the works of the indefatigable and very learned Turren- tin, or to those of the candid and elegant W'itsius. Turreut. tom. ii. q. xvi. Wits. Oecon. lib. iii. cap. xiii. The latest and fullest view of the point, which I ever remember to have met within any of our En- glish writers, is in the Lime-street Lectures ; which are a defence of several most important doctrines of the gospel, and contained in two octavo volumes, the united labours of nine modern divines, most ofwhom are well known to the world by their other evangeli- cal and useful writings. In those lectures, the final perseverance of thesamts is very particularly statetl ; and, to my apprehension at least, most satisfactorily proved; the arguments usually urged against it are impartially considered ; and I cannot but think (with all due deference to the judgment of others) inian- swerably confuted. And here (not to swell thisnote any farther,) I shall only just hint, that the judicious Hooker, (an author- ity, perhaps, as weighty and unexceptionable as any that can well be produced) gives a solemn attestation of this tenet, in a short discourse on the perpetuity of laith, subjoined to his Ecclesiastical Polity. Kol edit. may the true believer draw back unto per- dition. Can the sun be dislodged from his splierc, and rush lawlessly through the sky? Then, and then only, can the faith of God's elect be finally overthrown. (Titus i. 2.) Be of good cotirage, then, my soul, rely on those divine succoiu's which are so so- lemnly stipidated, so faithfully promised. Though thy grace be languid as the glim- mering spark, though the overflowings of corruption threaten it with total extinction, yet, since the great Jehovah has underta- ken to cherish the dim principle, "many waters cannot quench it, nor all floods drown it." Nay, though it were feeble as the smoking flax,* goodness and faithfulness stand engaged to augment the heat, to raise the fire, and feed the flame, till it beam forth, a lamp of immortal glory in the hea- vens. As to the faithfulness of a covenanting God, this may be emblematically seen in the stability of the heavenly bodies, and the perpetuity of their motion : ( Psalm cxix. 89, 90. ) Those that are fixed or station- ar)', continue unalterable in their grand ele- vations : no injurious shocks, no violence of conflicting elements, are able to displace those everlasting hinges on which depend- ant worlds re\olve : through the «'hole flight of time, they recede not so much as a hair's breadth from the precise central point of their respective systems ; while the erratic, or planetary, perform their prodi- gious stages without any intermission, or the least embarrassment. How soon, and how easily is the most finished piece of hu- man machinery disconcerted ! But all the celestial movements are so nicely adjusted, all their operations so critically proportion- ed, and tiieir mutual dependencies so strong- ly connected, that they prolong their bene- ficial courses throughout all ages. While mighty cities are overwiielmed with ruin, and their very names lost in oblivion ; while * The tenderness and faithfulness of God to his people, are tinelypicturcd by thein-nphet Laiah, chap, xlii. ver. 3. Which passage, because of its rich con- solation, and uncommon beauty, is deservedly adopt- ed by St. Matthew, and ingrafted into the system of evangelical truths. He will luit himself break, noi sufl'er to be bx'oken by any other, the bruised leed, nor qi(e)ieh the /iinokiiif; Jlu.r'. Was it possible to have chosen two more delicate and cxjiressive representa- tions? Could any iinage be more significant of a very infirm and enfeebled faith, than the flexile reed that bends before every wind ; which, besides its natur- al weakness, is made abundantly weaker by being bruised, and so is ready to fall in pieces of itself ! Or could any thing, with a more jiathetical exactness describe the extreme imbecility of that other princi- ple of the divine life, Idi'e.' The state of the flax just beginning to burn is liable to be put out by the least blast ; moreliablcstill is the wick of ihe lamp, when it is not so much as kindled into a glimmering flaine, but only breathiiiic smuke, and uncertain whether it shall take fire or iiot. Vet true faith and heavenly love, though subsisting amidst such pitiable infirmi- ties, v/ill not be abandoned by their great Author, shall not be extinguished by any temptations, but be maintained, invigorated, and made finally triumph- ant. M:itt. xii. 2(1. 114 CONTEMPLATIONS vast empires are swept from their founda- tions, and leave not so much as a shadowy trace of their ancient magnificence ; while all terrestrial things are subject to vicissitude and fluctuating in uncertainty ; — these are permanent in their duration ; these are in- variable in their functions : Not one fail- eth. Who doubts the constant succession of day and night, or the regular returns of summer and \vinter ? And why, O ! why shall we doubt the veracity of God, or dis- trust the accomplishment of his holy word ? Can the ordinances of heaven depart ? Then only can God forget to be gracious, or ne- glect the performance of his promise. Nay, our Lord gives us yet firmer grounds of affiance, he affords us a surer bottom for our faith, than the fundamental laws of the uni- verse. Heaven and earth, he says, shall pass away, but my words shall not in a sin- gle instance, or in one tittle of their import, pass away, No : his sacred word, what- ever may obstruct it, whoever may oppose it, shall be fulfilled to the very uttermost. O powerful word ! How astonishing is its efficacy ! When this word was issued Ibrth, a thousand worlds emerged out of nothing. Should the mighty orders be re- peated, a thousand more would spring into existence. By this word, the vast system of created things is upheld in constant and immutable perfection. Should it give com- mand, or cease to exert its energy, the uni- versal frame would be dissolved, and aU na- ture revert to her original chaos. And this very word is pledged for the safety, the com- fort, the happiness of the godly. This in- violable, this almighty word speaks in all the promises of the gospel. How strange- ly infatuated are our souls, that we should value it so little ! What infidels are we in fact, that we should depend upon it no more ! Did it create whatever has a being, and shall it not work faith in our breasts ? Do uniuimbered worlds owe their support to this word ; and shall it not be sufficient to buoy up our souls in troubles, or establish them in trials ? Is it the life of the universe, and shall it be a dead letter to mankind ? If I \\'ish to be heard when I implore heavenly blessings, is not this privilege most clearly made over to my enjoyment in that well-known text, " Ask, and it shall be given you." (Matt. vii. 7.) If I long for the eternal Comforter to dwell in my heart, and Simotify my nature, have I not an ap- parent title to this high prerogative confer- red in that sweet assertive interrogation, " How much more shall your heavenly Fa- ther give the Holy Spirit to those that ask nim ?" ( Luke xi. 1 3. ) If I earnestly covet the inestimable treasures that are comprised in the great Immanuel's mediation, can I have a firmer claim to the noble portion than is granted in that most precious scripture, " Him that cometh to me, I will in no wise cast out." ( John vi. 37.) What assurance of being interested in these unspeakable mercies would I desire ? What form of con- veyance, what deed of settlement, were it left to my own option, should I choose ? Here is the word of a king, the king im- mortal and invisible ; all whose declarations are truth itself. * If a monarch bestow im- munities on a body of men, and confirm them by an authentic charter, no one con- troverts, no one questions their right to the royal favoiu-s. And why should we sus- pect the validity of those glorious grants which are made by the everlasting Sover- eign of nature ; which he has also ratified by an oath, and sealed with the blood of his Son? Corporations may be disfranchised, and charters revoked ; even mountains may be removed, and stars drop from their spheres ; but a tenure founded on the di- raie promise is unalienably secure, is last- ing as eternity itself. We have endeavoured to spell a syllable of the eternal name in the ancient manu- script of the sky. We have caught a glimpse of the Almighty's glory from the lustre of innumerable stars. But would we behold all his excellencies pourtrayed in full perfection, and dra^vn to the veiy life ; let us attentively consider the Redeemer. I observe there are some parts of the firma- ment in which the stars seem as it were to cluster. They are sown thicker, they lie closer than usual, and strike the eye with redoubled splendour. Like the jewels on a crowTi, they mingle their beams, and re- flect an increase of brilliancy on each other. Is there not such an assemblage, such a con- stellation of the di\dne honours, most amia- bly effidgent in the blessed Jesus ? Does not infinite wisdom-j- shine, with siur- passing brightness, in Christ ? To the mak- ing of a world there was no obstai'le ; but to the saving of man, there seemed to be insurmountable bars. If the rebel is suf- fered to escape, where is the inflexible jus- tice which denounces death as the wages of sin ? If the offender is thoroughly pardoned, where is the inviolable veracity which has solemnly declared, " The soul tbat sinneth shall die ?" These awful attributes are set in terrible array, and, like an impenetrable battalion, oppose the salvation of apostate mankind. WTio can suggest a method to absolve the traitorous race, yet vindicate the honours of almighty sovereignty ? This is an intricacy which the most exalted of fin- ite intelbgencies are unable to clear. But behold the unsearchable secret revealed ! If these fail. The pDlared firmament isrnttenness, And earth's base built on stubble. Milton's Comu3. t See the next note. ON THE STARRY HEAVENS. 115 revealed in ihe wonderfi J redemption accom- plished by a dpng Saviour ! so plainly re- vealed, that, " he who runs may read," and even babes understand what minds of the deepest penetration could not contrive. The Son of God, taking oiu- nature, obeys the law, and undergoes death in our stead. By this means, the threatened curse is executed in all its rigour, and free grace is exercised in all its riches. Justice maintains her rights, and with a steady hand administers impartial vengeance ; while mercy dispenses her pardons, and welcomes the repentant criminal with the tenderest embraces. Hereby the seemingly thwarting attributes are reconciled ; the sinner is saved not on- ly in full consistence with the honom- of the supreme perfections, but to the most illustrious manifestation of them all. Where does the divine power* so signally exert itself as in the cross of Christ, and in the conquests of grace ? Our Lord, in his lowest state of humiliation, gained a more glorious victory than when, through the di- viding sea, and the waste howling wilder- ness, " he rode upon his chariots and horses of salvation." 'When his hands were rivet- ted with irons to the bloody tree, he dis- armed death of its sting, and plucked the prey from the jaws of hell. Then, even then, whUe he was cnicified in weakness, he vanquished the strong man, and subdued our most formidable enemies. Even then he spoUed principalities, triumphed over the powers of darkness, and led captivdty cap- tive. Now he is exalted to his heavenly throne, with what a prevailing eflBcacy does Lis grace go forth " conquering and to con- quer !" By this the slaves of sin are res- cued from their bondage, and restored to the liberty of righteousness. By this de- praved wretches, whose appetites were sen- sual, and their dispositions devilish, are not only renewed, but renewed after the image of God, and made partakers of a di- vine nature. Millions, millions of lost creatures are snatched, by the interposition of grace, like brands from the burning ; and, translated into everlasting mansions, shine brighter than the stars, shine bright as the sun in the kingdom of their Father. Would you, then, see an incomparably more bright display of the divine excellence than the spotted firmament, the spangles of heaven, or the golden fountain of day ex- hibit ? Contemplate Jesus of Nazareth ! He is the brightness of his father's glory, and the express image of his person. In his im- maculate nature, in his heavenly temper, in • Christ, the wisdom of God, and the power of God. 1 Cor. i 24. To the intent that now, unto the principaHties and powers in he ivenly places, might he known by the church, (by the amazing contrivance andaccomplishment of its redemption, me deep,) ex- frnsivc, and greatly diversified wisdoiv of God. Eph. ui. v. his most holy life, the moral perfections of the Deity are represented to the highest ad- vantage.* Hark ! how mercy with her charming voice speaks in all he utters. See how benevolence pours her choicest stores, in all he does. Did ever compassion look so amiably soft, as in those pitying tears which swelled his eyes, and trickled down his cheeks, to bedew the rancour of his invete- rate enemies ? Was it possible for patience to assimie a form so lovely, as that sweetly- winning conduct, which bore the contradic- tion of sinners ? which intreated the obstinate to be reconciled ; besought the guilty not to die ? In other things, we may find some scattered rays of Jehovah's glory; but in Christ they are all collected and united, in Christ they beam forth with the strongest radiance, with the most delightful efful- gence. Out of Sion, and in Sion's great Redeemer, hath God appeared in perfect beauty. Search then, my soid, above all other pursuits, search the records of redeeming love. Let these be the principal objects of thy study. Here employ thyself with the most unwearied assiduity : In these are hid all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge :f Such wisdom as charms and astonishes the very angels, engages their closest attention, and fills them vvith the deepest adoration ;| such knowledge, as qualifies the possessor, if not for offices of dignity on earth, yet for the most honourable advancements in the kingdom of heaven. Disunited from which knowledge, aU application is but elaborate impertinence ; and all science no better than pompous ignorance. These records contain the faiiltless model of duty, and the noblest motives to obedience. Nothing so * In this sense, that saying of our Lord is eminent- ly true, "He that hath seen me, hath seen the Fa- ther ;" John xiv. 9. t Col. ii. 3. Not a mean degree, but a treasure ; not one treasure, but many ; not many only, but all treasures of true wisdom and saving knowledge, are in Christ and his glorious gospel. The transcendent excellency of those treasures seems to be finely inti- mated in that expression, hid; which may be interpre- ted by the Hebrew, Job iii. 21, laid up with the ut- most care, and the greatest safety : Not left, at all ad- ventures, to be stumbled upon by every giddy wan- derer, ortofall into the armsof the yawning sluggard, but, likejewelsof the brightest lustre, orrichesof the highest value, kept in store to adorn and reward the diligent searcher. t This, I believe, is the import of the apostle's language, though it is not a literal translation of I Pet. i. 12. I never had such a lively apprehension of the beautiful significancy of the last word, as when I have attended a dissection of some part of the ani- mal body. In order to discern the minutiae of the admirable frame, the latent wonders of art and me- chanism, the eye is so sharpened, and its application so intensely bended, as gives a very just experi- mental comment on that expressive phrase. With such earnest attention is the everlasting gospel con- templated by the angelic orders. How much more, if it were possible, does it deserve the devout and in- cessant consideration of human minds ! Since by them, it is not only to be speculated as a bright ana ravishing display of the divine attributes, but to be applied to their fallen nature as a most benign scheme of recovering grace ; as the sure and only me- thod of obtaining life and innnortality. 11<> CONTEMPLATIONS powerful to woik a lively faith and a joyfiil lope, as an attentive consideration of oiu: Lord's unutterable merits. Nothing so so- vereign to antidote the pestilential influence of the world, and deliver oui" affections from a slavery to ignoble objects, as an ha- bituid remembrance of his extreme agonies. The genuine, the ever-fi-uitfid soince of all morality, is the unfeigned love of Christ ; and the cross,* the cross is the appointed altar, from vvhicli we may fetch a coal-f- to kindle this sacred fire. Behold, therefore, the man ! the match- less and stupendous man ! whose practice was a pattern of the most exalted virtue, and his person the mirror of every divine perfection. Examine the memoirs of his heaveidy temper and exemplary conversa- tion. Contemjilate that choir of graces which were associated in his mind, and shed the highest lustre on aU his actions. Fa- miliarize to thy thoughts his instructive dis- courses, and enter into the very spirit of his refined doctrines ; that the graces may be ti-ansfused into thy breast, and the doctrines transcribed in thy life. P'ollow him to Calvai-y's horrid eminence ! to Calvary's fatal catastrophe ! where innocence, dignity, and merit, were made perfect through suffer- ings ; each shining, with all possible splen- dour, through the tragical scene ; somewhat like his o\vn radiant bow, then glowing with the gi'eatest beauty when appearing in the darkest cloud. Be thy most constant attention fixed on that lovely and sorrow- ful spectacle. Behold the spotless victim nailed to the tree, and stabbed to the heart. Hear him poiuing out prayers for his miu"- derers, before he poured out his soul for transgressors. See the wounds that stream ivith forgiveness, and bleed balm for a dis- tempered M'orld. O ! see the justice of the Almighty and his goodness ; his mercy and his vengeance ; every tremendous and gracious attribute manifested — manifested ■with inexpressible glory in that most igno- minious, yet grandest of transactions. Since God is so inconceivably great as these his mar\'eUous works declare ; Since the great Sov'reign sends ten thousand worlds. To tell us, he resides above them all. In glory's unapproachable recess it * " And I," says our Lord, " if I be lifted up from the earth, and extended on the cross, will draw all men unto me;" will give such a rich and transcend- ent display of my love, as shall constitute the most powerful and prevailing attractive of theirs. John xii. 32. + Alluding to Isaiah vi. 6. :j: For this quotation, and several valuable hints, I acknowledge mvself indebted to those beautiful and sublime poems, entitled Night Thox^'hts ; of whicli I shall only say, that I receive fresh pleasure and richer improvement from every renewed perusal. And I think I shall have reason to bless the indul- gent Bestowerof all wisdom, for those instructive and animating compositions, even in my last moments: than which nothing can more emphatically speak thiir superior excellence, nor give a more solid satis- faction to their worthy Author. Happy should 1 how can we forbear hastening, with Moses, bowing ourselves to the earth, and worship- ping ! O ! what an honourable, as well as advantageous employ, is prayer ! — Advan- tageous ; By prayer, we cultivate that im- proving correspondence with Jehovah, we carry on that gladdening intercourse vnth. his spuit, which must begin here, in order to be completed in eternity — Honourable : By prayer, we have access to that mighty Potentate, whose sceptre sways universal nature, and whose rich regalia fills tlie skies with lustre. Prayer places us in his pre- sence-chamber ; while the blood of spruik- ling procures as a gracious audience. Sliall I then blush to be found prostrate before the throne of grace? Shall I be ashamed to have it le of this scriptural doctrine. We are required to take a prudent and mo- derate thought for the necessaries of life. The sluggard, who neglects this decent precaution, is se- verely reprimanded ; is sent toone of the meanest ani- mals, to blush for his folly, and learn discretion from her conduct, Prov. vi. 6. Our Saviour's precept, and the exact sense of his expression, is. Take no anxious thoui^ht ; indulge no perplexing care; no such care as may argue an unreasonable distrust of Providence, or may rtiul and (ear your jnLids with distrebsing, with perJiicioiis solicitude. 1J8 CONTEMPLATIONS contracted spuit, but with the most lively and enlarged emotions of gratititude : when I shall incessantly enjoy the light of his countenance, and be united, inseparably unit- ed, to his all-glorious Godhead. Take, ye ambitious, unenvied and unopposed, take to yourselves the toys of state. May I be enabled to rejoice in this blessed hope, and to triumph in that amiable, that adorable, that delightful name, the Lord my God ! And I shall scarce bestow a thought on the splendid pageantry of the world, unless it be to despise its empty pomp, and to pity its deluded admirers. All these bodies, though immense in their size, and almost infinite in their miU- titude, are obedient to the divine command. The God of wisdom " telleth their num- bers," and is intimately acquainted with their various properties. The God of power " calleth them all by their names," and assigns them whatsoever office he pleases. He marshalls all the starry le- gions, with infinitely greater ease and nicer order, than the most expert general ar- ranges liis disciplined troops. He appoints their posts, he marks their route, he fixes the time for their return : The posts which he appoints, they occupy without fail ; in the route, which he settles, they persevere without the least deviation ; and to the in- stant,* which he fixes for their return, they are precisely punctual. He has given them a law which, through a long revolution of ages, shall not be broken, unless his sover- eign will interposes for its repeal. Then, indeed, the motion of the celestial orbs is controlled ; their action remains suspend- ed ; or their influence receives a new direc- tion.— The sun, at his creation, issued forth with a command to travel perpetually through the heavens ; since which he has never neglected to perform the great circuit, " rejoicing as a giant to rim his race." But, when it is requisite to accomplish the pur- poses of dinne love, the orders are counter- manded ; the flaming courier remits his career, stands still in Gibeon ;f and, for the conveniency of the chosen people, holds back the falling day. The moon was dis- patched \vith a charge, never to intermit her revolving coiu'se till day and night come to an end : But, when the children of Provi- dence ai'e to be favoured with an uncom- mon continuance of light, she halts in her march, makes a solemn pause in the valley » " The planets and all the innumerable host of heavenly bodies, perform their courses and revolu- tions with so much certainty and exactness, as never once to fail ; but, for almost 6000 years, come con- stantly about to the same period, in the hundredth part ofa minute. " — Stackhouse's History of the Bible. t This is spoken in conformity to the Scripture language, ana according to the common notion. With respect to the power which affected the alteration, it is much the same thing, and alike miraculous, wlic- therthe sun or the earth be supposed to move. of Ajalon,* and delays to bring on her at- tendant train of shadows. When the ene- mies of the Lord are to be discomfited, the stars are levied into the ser\dce ; the stars are armed, and take the field ; the stars, in their courses, fought against Sisera.f So dutiful is material nature ! so obse- quious in all her forms to her Creator's pleasure ! The bellowing thunders listen to his voice ; and the voUied lightnings ob- sen'e the direction of his eye. The flying storm and impetuous whirlwind wear his yoke. The raging waves revere his nod ; they shake the earth, they dash the skies, yet never oflfer to pass the limits which he has prescribed. Even the planetary spheres, though ^'astly larger than this wide extend- ed earth, are in his hand as clay in the hands of the potter. Though swifter than the northern blast, they sweep the long tracts of ether; yet are they guided by his reins, and execute whatever he enjoins. All those enormous globes of central fire, which beam through the boundless azure, in comparison of which, an army of planets were like a swarm of summer-insects ; those, even those, are conformable to his will ; as the melting wax to the impressed seal. Since all — all is obedient throughout the whole ascent of things, shall man be the on- ly rebel against the almighty Maker? Shall these unruly appetites reject his govern- ment, and refuse their allegiance ? Shall these headstrong passions break loose from divine restraint, and nm wild in exorbitant sallies after their own imaginations. O my soul ! be stung with remorse, and overwhelmed with confusion, at the thought ! Is it not a righteous thing that the blessed God should sway the sceptre, with the * Josh. X. 12, 13. The prophet Habbakkuk, ac- cording to his lofty manner, celebrates this event ; and points out in very poetical di( tion, the design of so surprising a miracle. The sun and moon stood still in their habitation ; in the light, the long con- tinued and miraculous light, thy arrows, edged with destruction, walked on their awful errand ; in the clear shining of the day, protracted for this very pur- pose, thy glittering spear, launched by thy people, but guided by thy hand, sprung to its prey. Hab. iii. 11. t Judg. V. 20 The scriptural phrase, fought against, will, I hope, be a proper warrant for every expression I have used on this occasion. The pas- sage is generally supposed to signify, that some very dreadful meteors (which the stars were thought to in- fluence,) such as fierce flashes of lightning, impetuous showers of rain, and rapid storms of hail, were em- ployed by the Almighty to terrify, annoy, and over- throw the enemies of Israel. If so, there cannot be a more clear and lively paraphrase on the text, than these fine lines of a Jewish writer. " His severe wrath shall he sharpen for a sword; and the world shall fight with him against the ungodly. Then shall the right-aiming thunderbolts go abroad, and from the clouds, as from a well-drawn lx)w, shall they fly to the mark. And hail-stones full of wrath shall be cast out ofa stone bow; and the water of the sea shall rage against them ; and the floods (as was the case of the river Kishon) shall cruelly drown them. Vea, a mighty wind shall ntHud up against them ? and, like a storm, shall blo'.v thcin away. Wisas.i parable, we rannot but admire the acciiiacy ot'our Lord, both ill Uuniis,' the stcnc, and iclfctiiip tlif circumstances. the productions of nature, he convej-s to us the most valuable fruits, by the intervention of the loveliest blossoms. Though the present is in itself extremely acceptable, he has given it an additional endearment, by the beauties which an-ay it, or the perfumes which surround it. — In the pages of revel- ation likewise, he has communicated to us the most glorious truths, adorned with all the graces of composition ; such as may polish the man of genius, and improve the man of worth ; such as highly delight our imagination, even while they cultivate and refine om- morals. So that they really are, as one of their divine authors very elegant- ly speaks, " like apples of gold in pictures of silver."* Asp. Who then would not gladly receive that gracious exhortation, " Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly ?" (Col. iii. 16.) Who would not willingly obey that benign command, " Thou shalt talk of it when thou sittest in thine house, and when thou walkest by the way ; when thou liest down, and when thou risest up?" (Dent. vi. 7.) When I consider the language of the Scriptures, and sometimes experience their energy on my soul, I am inclined to say, " Other writings, though polished with the nicest touches of art, only tinkle on the ear, or affect >is like the shepherd's reed. But these, even amidst all their noble negligence, strike, alarm, transport us somewhat like the voice of thunder, or the archangel's trum- pet." When I consider the contents of the Scriptures, and believe myself interested in the promises they make, and the privileges they confer, 1 am induced to cry one, " What are all the other books in the world, compared with these invaluable vo- lumes ? No more than an entertaining no- vel, or a few prudential rules for domestic economy, compared with a parent's will, a royal charter, or an imperial grant of titles and manors." All these circumstances remind me of an encomium most deservedly given to the Bi- ble v which, though quite artless, is, I think, abundantly more expressive than the most elaborate eflbrts of rhetoric. It came from the lips of a martyr ; who, being condemn- ed to die for his inviolable adherence to the doctrines of Scripture, when he arrived at the stake, and had composed himself for his execution, took his final leave in these af- fecting words ; " Farewell sun and moon ! • Prov. XXV. 11. — Theron follows the received translation. 1 should prefer the expression of Glassius, who supposes P]D^ TJl'^Ii'D to signify, " Reti- acula argeiitea, in quibus oculi sunt minutissimi, pe- netrabiles tamen visu." According to this interpre- tation, the passage will presentus with apples of gold in ntt-work, or lattice-work of silver; where the tine fruit receives a new charm, by showing itself through the elegant apertures of the silver. 154 THERON AND ASPASIO. farewell all the beauties of creation, and comforts of life ! farewell my honoured friends ! farewell my beloved relations ! and farewell, thou precious, precious Book of God !" Aspasio had scarce uttered the last sen- tence, when a servant came to let them know " supper was upon the table." — Very opportunely, said Theron, has our re- past waited till our conference is ended. We have showed what a large field of de- lightful speculation the Scriptures open ; and what ample materials for the most re- fined discoiurse they afford. As nothing can be more ungraceful, than to neglect in our own conduct what we recommend to the practice of others, let us, this very night, begin to ennoble our interviews with these impro\'ing subjects, — let us endeavour to make religious conversation, which is in all respects desirable, in some degree fa- shionable. DIALOGUE 11. The next morning, when breakfast was over, Theron and Aspasio took a walk into the garden — their spirits cheered, and their imaginations lively — gratitude glowing in their hearts, and the whole creation smiling around them. The spot adjoining to the house was ap- propriated to the cultivation of flowers. In a variety of handsome compartments were assembled the choicest beauties of blooming nature. Here the hyacinth hung her silken bells, or the lilies reared their silver pyra- mids. There stood the neat narcissus, loosely attired in a mantle of sno\%7 lustre : or the splendid ranuncidus wore a full-trim- med suit of radiant scarlet. Pinks were rising to enamel the borders ; roses Avere opening to dress the walls ; siurounded on all sides with a profusion of beauteous forms, either latent in the stalk, or bursting the buds, or blown into full expansion. This was bounded by a slight partition, a sort of verdant parapet, through which they descend by an easy flight of steps, and are presented with the elegant simplicity of the kitchen garden. In one place you might see the marigold flowering, or the beans in blossom. In another, the endive curled her leaves, or the lettuce thickened her tufts ; cauliflowers sheltered their fair complexion under a green umbrella ; while the burrage dishevelled* her locks, and braided them with blooming jewels, of a finer azure than the finest sapphires. On the sunny slopes, the cucumber and melon « Referring to the loose irregular manner of its foli- ation. lay basking in the collected beams. On the raised beds, the artichoke seemed to be erecting a standard, while the asparagus shot* into ranks of spears. The level ground produced all manner of cooling sa- lads and nourishing esculents. Nothing was wanting to furnish out the wholesome luxury of an antediluvian banquet. Soon a high wall intervenes, through which a wicket opens, and transmits them into the regular and equidistant rows of an orchard. This plantation is so nicely ad- justed, that it looks like an arrangement of rural piazzas, or a collection of diversified vistas. The eye is everywhere entertained with the exactest uniformity, and darts with unobstructed ease from the one end of the blanching files to the other. On all the boughs lay a lovely evolution of blossoms, arrayed in milky white, or tinged with the softest red. Crowding into one general cluster, without relinquishing any vacant space for leaves, they formed the fairest, the gayest, the grandest alcove that fancy itself ean imagine. It is really like the court of the Graces. None can approach it without finding his ideas brightened, and feeling his temper exhilarated. Contiguous to this correct disposition of things, nature had thrown a wilderness, hoary, grotesque, and magnificently confus ed. It stretched itself, with a large circu- lar sweep, to the north ; and secured both the olitory and the orchard from incommod- ing winds. Copses of hazel and flowering shrubs filled the lower spaces, while pop- lars quivered aloft in air, and pines pierced the clouds with their leafy spears. Here grew clumps of fir, clad in everlasting green ; there stood groves of oak, that had weathered for ages the wintry storm. Amidst this woody theatre ran a winding walk, lined with elms of insuperable height, whose branches, uniting at the top, reared a stately arch, and projected a solemn shade. It was impossible to enter this lofty labyrinth without being struck with a pleasing dread. As they proceed, every inflection diflfuses a deeper gloom, and awakens a more pensive attention. Having stroUed in this darksome avenue without a speck of sunshine, without a glimpse of the heavens, on a sudden they step into open day. — Surprising ! cries As- pasio, what a change is this ! what delight- ful enchantment is here ! — One instant whelmed in Trephonius' cave,* where hor- * Alluding, not only to the shape, but also to the growth of this plant, which is so unusually quick, that it may almost be said to start, rather than to rise out of the earth. t The reader may find a curious account of this I cave, together with a very humorous, and (which I should iilways accompany humour, or else it will be like a sting without thehoney) an improving descrip- i tion of its effects, in the Sp'jctator, Vol. viii. No. 5y8, laoe. THERON AND ASPASIO. \o5 ror frowns, and darkness lowers, and soli- tude reigns : transported the next into the romantic scenes of Arcadia, where all is populous, all is lightsome, and all is gay. — Quick as thought, the arches of heaven expand their azure ; turrets and spires shoot into the skies ; towns, with their spacious edifices, spread themselves to the admiring view. Those lawns, green with fieshest herbage ; those fields, rich with undiUating corn ; where were they all a moment ago ? — It brings to my mind that remarkable situation of the Jewish lawgiver, when, ele- vated on the summit of Pisgah, he surveyed the goodly land of promise ; " surveyed the rivers, the floods, the brooks of honey and butter ;" surveyed " the mountains drop- ping with wine, and the hills flowing with milk," (Job XX. 17. Joel iii. 18.) surveyed all with those eyes, which, for forty tedious years, had been confined to dry sands, rag- ged rocks, and the irksome wastes of a de- solate howling wilderness. Here they seated themselves on the first mossy hillock which offered its couch. The rising sun had visited the spot, to dry up the dews, and exhale the damps that might endanger health ; to open the violets, and expand the primroses that decked the green- The whole shade of the wood was collected behind them ; and a beautiful, extensive, diversified landscape spread itself before them. Theron, according to his usual manner, made many improving remarks on the pro- spect and its furniture. He traced the footsteps of an all- comprehending contri- vance, and pointed out the strokes of ini- mitable skill. He observed the grand ex- ertions of power, and the rich exuberance of goodness, most signally, most charmingly conspicuous through the whole — Upon one circumstance he enlarged with a particular satisfaction. Ther. See, Aspasio, how ail is calculated to administer the highest delight to man- kind. Those trees and hedges, which skirt the extremities of the landscape, stealing away from their real bulk, and lessening Ity gentle diminutions, appear like elegant pic- tures in miniature. Those which occupy the nearer situations are a set of noble images, swelling upon the eye, in full jiro- portion, and in a variety of graceful atti- tudes ; both of them ornamenting the se- veral apartments of our common abode, with a mixture of delicacy and grandeur. The blossoms that array the branches, the flowers that embroider the mead, ad- dress and entertain our eyes with every charm of beauty ;* whereas, to other crea- » Therefore, when the prophet describes the Chris- tian church, adorned with all the " beauties of holi- ness," he borrows his imagery from these amiable ob- jects ; " Israel shall bud and blossom," Isa. xivii. (i. tures, they are destitute of all those attrac- tives which result from a combination of the loveliest colours and most alluring forms. Yonder streams, that glide ^^■ith smooth serenity along the valleys, glitter- ing to the distant view like sheets of po- lished crystal, or soothing the attentive ear with the softness of aquatic murmurs, are no less exhilarating to the fancy than to the soil through which they pass. The huge enormous mountain, the steep and dizzy precipice, the pendent horrors of the craggy promontory, wild and tremendous as they are, furnish out an agreeable enteitainment to the human mind, and please even while they terrify ; whereas the beasts take no other notice of those majestic deformities, than only to avoid the dangers they threaten. Asp. How wonderfidly do such consid- erations exalt our idea of the Creator's goodness, his very distinguishing goodness to mankind ! And should they not })roportion- ably endear that eternal Benefactor to our affections ? His ever-bountiful hand has scattered blessings, and with profuse liber- ality, among all the ranks of animated ex- istence. But to us he exercises a benefi- cence of a very superior kind. We are treated as his peculiar favourites. We are admitted to scenes of delight, which none but ourselves are capable of relishing. Ther. Another remark, though very ob- vious, is equally important : The destination of all those external things is no less advan- tageous, than their formation is beautiful. The bloom, which engages the eye with its delicate hues, is cherishing the embryo fruit, and forming within its silken folds the rudi- ments of a future desert. Those streams, which shine from afar like fluid silver, are much more valuable in their productions, and beneficial in their services, than they are amiable in their appearance. They dis- tribute, as they roll along their winding banks, cleanliness to our houses, and fiuit- fulness to our lands. They nourish, and at their own expense, a never-fail.ng supply of the finest fish. They visit our cities, and attend our wharfs, as so many public vehicles, ready to set out at all hours. Those sheep, which give their udders to be drained by the busy frisking lambs, are fattening their flesh for our support ; and while they fill their own fleeces, are pro- viding for our comfortable clothing. Yon- der kine — some of which are browsing upon the tender herb, others, satiated with pasturage, ruminate under the shady covert — though conscious of no such design, are concocting, for our use, one of the — Nay, the very "wilderness, even the Gentile na- tions, being converted unto Christ, " shall blossom as a rose, Isa. xxxv. 1. — "I will be as the dew unto Is- rael ; he shall blossom as the lily, and cast forlh his roots as Lebanon : Hos. xiv. i What an elegant pic- i ture ! and what a comfortable promise ! 156 THERON AND ASFASIO. softeet, purest, healthiest liquors in the world. The bees that fly humming about our seat, and pursue their work on the fra grant blossoms, are collecting balm and sweetness, to compose the richest of sy- rups ; which, though the produce of their toil, is intended for our good. Nature, and her whole family, are our obsequious servants, our ever-active labour- ers. They bring the fruits of their united industry, and pour them into our lap, or de- posit them in our store-rooms. Asp. Who can ever sufficiently admire this immense benignity ? — The supreme Disposer of events has commanded delight and profit to walk hand in hand through his ample creation ; making all things so perfectly pleasing, as if beauty was their only end ; yet all things so eminently ser- viceable, as if usefulness had been then- sole design. And, as a most winning in- vitation to our gratitude, he has rendered man the centre, in which all the emanations of his beneficence, diffused through this terrestrial system, finally terminate. But, my dear Theron, is not this appa- rent, in a much more wonderful manner, throughout the whole economy of redemp- tion ? It were a small thing for this inferior class of unintelligent creatures, to be con- tinually employing themselves for our be- nefit. Even the Son of the most high God, through all his incarnate state acted the very same part. He took flesh, and bore the infirmities of human nature, not for himself, but for us men, and our salva- tion. He suffered want, and endiu-ed mi- sery in all its forms, that we might possess the fulness of joy, and abound in pleasures for evermore. When he poured out his soul in agonies, under the curse of an aveng- ing law, was it not with a compassionate view to make us partakers of eternal bless- edness ? When he fulfilled, perfectly ful- filled the whole commanding law, was it not for this gracious purpose that his merits might be imputed to us, that we by his obedience might be made righteous ? Yes ; " For us heliv'd, ToiI'd for our ease, and for our safety bled." Nothing in the whole course — Ther. Pardon me for interrupting you, Aspasio. I have no objection to the ge- nenJ drift of your discourse ; but that par- ticular notion of imputed righteousness has always appeared to me in a very ridiculous light. And I must say, that such a puri- tanical nostrum makes a very unbecoming figure amongst your other manly and correct sentiments of religion. Asp. You know, Theron, I have long ago disavowed that ignoble prejudice, which rejects doctrines, or despises persons, be- cause they happen to be branded with con- temptible names. It is tnie the writers styled Puritans, are remarkable for their at- tachment to this peculiarity of the gospel. It runs thi'ough all their theological works, and very eminently distinguishes them from the generality of our modern treatises. But must it therefore be wrong, because main- tained by that particular set of people ? Or, are they only advocates for this important truth ? TJier. Ay ; it is as I suspected. I have lately conjectured, from several hints in my Aspasio 's discourse, that he has been warp- ing to the low ungentleman-Iike peculiari- ties of those whimsical fanatics. Asp. I cannot conceive why you should call them whimsical. To settle faith on its proper basis — the meritorious righteous- ness of the Redeemer ; and to deduce from Its true origin — the love of God shed abroad in the heart ; to search the consci- ence, and convince the judgment ; to awaken the lethargic, and comfort the af- flicted soul ; and aU from a thorough know- ledge, joined to a masterly application, of the divine word ; — these, sure, are not whimsical talents, but real excellencies. Yet these, if we may credit history, entered into the preaching ; these, if we will ex- amine impartially, are to be found in the writings of the Puritans. — And a pearl, you will please to remember, is a pearl still, though it should hang in the Ethiopian's ear. Ther. Ethiopian indeed ! You have truly characterised that demure and gloomy ge- neration. I hope you do not intend to in- troduce their affected solemnity and forbid- den reserve, into your own easy and engag- ing conversation. Though, for aught I can judge, this would be no more ungraceful, than to patch such antiquated notions on the refined scheme of Christianity. Asp. My dear friend, you are too ludi- crous ; and I begin to catch the infection. We had better return to our first topic. Let us contemplate the wonders of creation, and as we admire the works, learn to adore the Maker. Ther. None of your evasions, good As- pasio. You must not think to put me off at this rate. I have wanted an opportuni- ty to rally you upon this head, and to argue or laugh you out of these religious oddities. Asp. If you will not agree to terms of peace, I hope you will allow some cessa- tion of arms. At least till I can muster my forces, and prepare for the vindication of my principles. ITier. No ; upon the spot, and out of hand, you are required to answer for your- self, and these same queer opinions. — I shall serve you as the Roman consul served the procrastinating monarch. When he de- murred about his reply to the demands of the senate, and said, " he would consider of THERON AND ASPASIO. 157 the matter •" the resolute ambassador drew a circle round liim with his cane, and insist- ed upon a positive answer, before he step- ped over those limits. Asp. This, however, you will give me leave to observe, that the affair is of a very serious nature. Upon condition that you will dismiss your flourishes of wit, and strokes of satire, I will acquaint you mth the reasons which have made me a thorough convert to this doctrine. Once I held it in the utmost contempt, and pitied the simplicity of (as I then styled them ) its deluded admirers. But I am now become such a fool, that I may be truly wise and substantially happy. I have seen my ruined state, and I bless God for this sovereign restorative. It is the source of my strongest consolations, and the very foundation of my etemal hopes. Ther. Excuse me, Aspasio, if the vivaci- ty of my temper, andt he seemingly uncouth tenet, kindled me into a more humorous gaiety than became the occasion. You speak of the point with so much serious- ness, and in such weighty terms, as check my levity, and command my respect- Be pleased to execute what you have promised, and the most engaged attention of my mind shall atone for the petulent sallies of my tongue. Asp. To conceive a dislike of any doc- trine, only because persons of a particular denomination have been very officious to pro- mote its reception ; this is hardly consistent with an impartial inquiry after truth. Ther. 1 grant it, Aspasio. And I should be ashamed of my opposition, if it was founded on so slight a bottom. But, ab- stracted from all party considerations, I can see nothing in this supposed aiticle of our faiih that may recommend it to the un- prejudiced inquii-er. AVhat can be more awkward than the term, or more irrational than the sentiment ? Asp. The word imputed, when used in this connexion, may possibly convey a dis- agreeable sound to the ears of some people, because they look upon it as the peculiar phraseology of a few superstitious sectarists, and reject it merely on the foot of that un- reasonable siumise But how can you be disgusted at the -expression, Theron, who have so often read it in the most approved and judicious writers? St. Paul, who might affirm with relation to his epistles, much more truly than the painter concerning his portraits, " I write for eternity,"* scruples not to use this awkward language several times in the same chapter.f Milton, the * Alluding to the painter, who, apologizing for the slow procedure and scrupulously nice touches of his pencil, said, Mternitati pingo, " I paint for eternity." t ="66 Rom. iv. in which single chapter, some branch of the word Aoy/^t i unto hira." 1 Cor. ii, 14, favour of his royal assessor : and brought honour to the Christian cause. This amiable self-regimen, and modera- t'on of temper, I shall be sure to see exem- plified in my friend's conversation, however I may fail of it myself, or be proof against all his arguments. Asp. Ah ! Theron, we want no mo:iitor to remind us of our supposed excellencies. And if you begin with your complimeiits, it is time to put an end to our discourse. Only let me just observe, that divint truths cannot be properly discerned but by the enlightening influences of the divine Spirit. We must address ourselves to this inquiry not only with unprejudiced minds, but likewise with pra)'iitg hearts. We must bring to this dispute, not barely the quiver of logic, but that " unction from the Holy One which may teach lis all things," (1 John ii. 20, 27.) Let us then adopt the poet's aspiration : -Thou celestial Light, Shine inward, and the mind throui^h allher powers Irradiate ; there plant eyes ; all mist from thence Purge and disperse I Milton, B. iii. 1. 51. DIALOGUE IIL Ther. We are now, Aspasio, about two miles distant from my house. The horse- road lies through a narrow, dusty lane. The foot-path leads along a spacious pleasant meadow. Suppose we deliver our horses to the servant, and walk the remainder of the way ? Asp. You coidd not make a proposal more agreeable to my inclination ; espe- cially as the air is become cool, and the walk is so inviting. What a magnificent and charming scene ! hills on either sirle, gently rising, and widely spreading ; their summits crowned with scattered villages, and clustering trees : their slops divided into a beauteous chequer- work ; consisting partly of tillage, with its waving crops, partly of pasturage, with its grazing herds. Before us, the trefoil, the clover, and a variety of grassy plants, differ- ently bladed, and differently branched, weave themselves into a carpet of living green. Can any of the manufactures formed in the looms, or extended in the palaces of Persia, vie with the covering of this ample area ? vie with it, in grandeur of size, or delicacy of decoration ? What a profusion of the gayest flowers, fringing the banks, and embroidering the plain ! -Nature here Wantons, as in her prime, and plays at will Her virgin fancies, pouring forth more sweet, Wild alwve rule or art, enonncus bliF?; ! SUL,,H. It. V 162 THERON AND ASPASIO. Nothing can be brighter than the lustre of those silver daisies, nothing deeper than the tinge of those golden crowfoots ; yet both seem to acquire additional beauty, by succeeding to the defoimity of winter, and flourishing amidst so much surrounding verdure. Ther. Nature is tndy in her prime. The vegetable tribes are putting on their richest attire. Those chesnuts, on our right hand, begin to rear their flowering pyramids ; those willows, on our left, are tipt with tassels of grey ; and yonder poplars, which over- look the river, and seem to command the meadows, are pointed with rolls of silver. The hawthorn, in every hedge, is partly turged with silken gems, partly dissolved into a milk-white bloom : Not a straggling furze, nor a solitary thicket, but wears a rural nosegay. All is a delightful display of present fertility, and a joyous pledge of future plenty. Now we experience what the royal poet, in very delicate imagery, de- scribes : " The winter is past ; the rain is over and gone. The flowers appear on the earth ; the time of the singing of birds is come ; and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land. The fig-tree putteth forth her green figs ; and the vine, with the tender grapes, give a good smell;" (Cant. ii. 11, 12, 13.) Asp. Your quotation and the scene re- mind me of a remark, which should have taken place in our last night's discourse. When we were enumerating the excellencies of the sacred writings, methinks we might have added, — Are you fond of pastoral, in all its flowery graces, and blooming honours ? Never have we seen such exquisite touches of rural painting, or such sweet images of endeared aflfection, as in the " Song of songs, which is Solomon's." All the brilliant and amiable appearances in nature are employed, to delineate the tenderness of his heart, who is love itself; to portray the beauty of his person, who is the chiefest among ten thousand ; and describe the happiness of those souls, whose " fellowship is with the Father, and with his Son Jesus Christ ;" (1 Johni. 3.) See, Theron, what the cheering warmth and the genial showers of spring have done ! Such a change, so pleasing and so ennobling, the gospel of Christ introduces into the soul Not a day, scarce an hour passes, but this season of universal fecundity produces some- thing new. And is there any state, or any circumstance of life, on which the faith of Christ does not exert a similar efficacy, and bring forth fruit unto God ? This is supposed to be the spiritual meaning of that fine descriptive picture which you have borrowed from the Canti clo= It displays the benign agency of grace and its doctrines, especially of our Lord's satisfaction for sin, and of his righteousness imputed to sinners. These operate with much the same favourable and happy energy, both on our morals and our comforts, as the sweet influences of the vernal sun operate on the sprouting herbs and opening flowers. Ther. If such were the effects of your doctrine, it would stand the fairer chance for general acceptation. But there ai"e several weighty scruples to be removed, before persons of a liberal and enlarged way of thinking can acquiesce in your opinion. Who, for instance, can persuade himself, that what you call the satisfaction of Christ is consistent with the dictates of reason, or with the perfections of the Deity ? Asp. Let gentlemen be candid in their inquiries, and truly liberal in their way of thinking ; then, I flatter myself, these scru- ples may be removed without much difficulty. God, the almighty Creator and supreme Governor of the world, having made man, gave him a law, with a penalty annexed in case of disobedience. This sacred law our forefather Adam presumptuously broke ; and we, his posterity, were involved in his guilt. Or, should that point be controvert- ed, we have undeniably made, by many per- sonal transgressions, his apostacy our own ; insomuch that aU have sinned, have forfeited their happiness, and rendered themselves obnoxious to punishment. Man being thus ruined, none could recov- er him, except his injured Maker. But shall he be recovered, shall he be restored, without suffering the punishment due to his crime, and threatened by his Creator ? What then will become of the justice of the divine Lawgiver ? and how shall the honour of his holy law be maintained ? At this rate, who would reverence its authority, or fear to violate its precepts ? Sinners might be emboldened to multiply their transgressions, and tempted to think, that the God of immaculate holiness, the God of unchangeable veracity, is " alto- gether such an one as themselves."* Does it not appear needful, that some ex- pedient be devised, in order to prevent these dishonourable and horrid consequences ? Ther. Proceed to inform us what the expedient is- Asp. To ascertain the dignity of the su- preme administration, yet rescue mankind from utter destruction, this admirable pur- pose was formed, and in the fulness of time executed. The second person of the ever-blessed Trinity unites the human na- ture to the divine, submits himself to the » This was actually the case, as we are informed by the Searcher of hearts, when, on a particular oc- casion, punishment was only retarded. How much more would such impious opinions have prevailed if on this grand act of disobedience, punishment had been entirely forborne ? Psal. 1. 21. DIALOGUE III. 163 obligations of his people, and becomes re- siMJusible for all their guilt. In this capacity he performs a perfect obedience, and under- goes the sentence of death ; makes a full expiation of their sins, and establishes their title to life. By which means the law is satisfied, justice is magnified, and the richest grace exercised. Man enjoys a great salva- tion, not to the discredit of any, but to the unspeakable glory of all, the divine attri- butes. This is what we mean by Christ's sa- tisfaction. And this, I should imagine, wants no recommendation to our unpreju- diced reason ; as I am sure it is most de- lightfully accommodated to our distressed condition. It is also confirmed by many express passages of Scripture, and illustrated by a variety of very significant images. Tlier. Pray, let me be favoured with some of your scriptural images. After which we may inquire, whether your doctrine will stand the test of reason. Asp. What is your notion of a ransom ? When Priam redeemed the dead body of Hector from the victorious Achilles, how v\'as it done ? Tlier. By paying a price. Thus Fabius recovered the captives which were taken by Hannibal. He transmitted the sum requir- ed, and they were discharged from their confinement. Asp. Such is the redemption procured for sinners by our Lord Jesus Christ. Of such a nature, (though incomparably more grand and august in all its circumstances,) and expressed by the veiy same word, " The Son of man came not to be ministered unto, but to minister ; and to give his life a ransom for many." Christ also paid a price, a real price, a most satisfactory price ; in consideration of which, our freedom from every penal evil is granted. " Ye are redeemed,"* says the apostle, " not with corruptible things, as silver and gold, but with the precious blood of Christ." Let me add one text more, which, in the same style of commutative ' justice, asserts the same truth : " Christ has redeemed us,"f hath bought us off, " from jthe curse of the law," (Gal. iii. 13.) Yes, ;my friend, The ransom was paid down. The fund of heav'n, Heav'n's inexhaustible exhausted fund. Amazing and amaz'd, pour'd forth the price, All price beyond. Though curious to compute, Archangels fail'd to cast the mighty sum. ISight Tlwuglits, No. IV. ' j'.'^^*;'- ^8- We have an equivalent expression, used m the same signification, by one of the cor- rectest writers in the world, f' ^"l*'.":?"" Pollux alterna morte redemit.— Virg. t Gal. HI. 13.— We are said to be bought, 1 Cor vi. , -«. not m a metaphorical sense, but really and pro- . Perly, for here tlie price is mentioned, and by St. Peter the price is specified. 1 Pet. i. 18, 19. Ther. Hold a little, good Aspasio. Con- sider the consequence of what you maintain. If there was a ransom in the case, to whom was it paid ? The devil had led sinners cap- tive. They are said to be the slaves of Satan. And shall the blessed Jesus pay his life to that accursed fiend ? Shocking to imagine ! Yet, shocking as it is, it must follow from your own and your poet's asser- tion. Asp. You misapprehend the case, Theron. The ransom was paid to God. " Thou hast redeemed us to God," (Rev. v.' 9.) is the confession of the saints in light. Sa- tisfaction was made to the divine law, and to the divine justice ; the one of which was offended, the other violated, and both con- curred to denounce the transgressor's doom ; of which doom Satan was only the destined executioner, whose malignity, and implaca- ble rage, God is pleased to make the instru- ment of inflicting his vengeance, as he for- merly used the idolatrous kings of Assyria and Babylon to chastise the disobedient Is- raelites. " When we were without strength." (Rom. V. 6.) utteriy ruined, yet absolutely helpless ; when none, in heaven or earth, could afford us any succour ; then our Lord Jesus Christ most graciously and most sea- sonably interposed. He said, as it is veiy emphatically represented by Elihu, " De- liver them from going down into the pit ; I have found a ransom," (Job. xxxiii. 24.) He did what is very beautifully described by our English classic : -S >man, as is most just. Shall satisfy for man, be judged and die; And dying rise, and rising with him raise His brethren, ransom'd with his own dear life. MILTON. Ther. But pray, do not you allow that Christ is truly and properly God ? Asp. We not only allow it, but we insist upon it, and make our boast of it. This is the very foundation of his merit, and the support of our hope. Ther. This may aggrandize the merit of Christ, but it will increase the difficulty of your task. For, according to this opinion, Christ must make satisfaction to himself. And is not this a practice quite unprece- dented ? a notion perfectly absurd ? Asp. It is quite unprecedented, you say. On this point I shall not vehemently con- tend. Only let me mention one instance. Zaleucus, you know, the prince of the Lo- crians, made a decree, that M-hoever was convicted of adultery, should be punished with the loss of both bis eyes. Soon after this establishment, the legislator's own son was apprehended in the very fact, and brought to a public trial. How could tlie father acquit himself in so tender and deli- cate a conjuncture ? Should he execute the IG4 THERON AND ASPASIO. law in all its rigour, tlus would be worse tlian death to tlio unhappy youth : Should he pardon so notorious a delinquent, this would defeat the design of liis salutary in- stitution. To avoid both these inconvenien- ces, he ordered one of his own eyes to be ])ulled out, and one of his son's, by which means the rights of justice were preserved inviolate, yet the tenderness of a parent was remarkably indulged : And may we not venture to say, that in this case, Za- Icucus both received and made the satisfac- tion ? received it as a magistrate, even while he made it as a father? Ther. I cannot see, how this suffering of the father was in any degree satisfactory to the law, since the father and the son could not be considered as one and the same per- son. It may pass for an extraordinary in- stance of parental indulgence ; it may strike the benevolent and compassionate hearer : but, if tried at the bar ot equity and reason, it will hardly be admitted as any legal sa- tisfaction, it will probably be condemned, as a breach of nature's first and fundamen- tal law, self-preser^'ation. Asp. What you observe, Theron, I must confess has weight. It will oblige me to give up my illustration. Nevertheless, what you urge against the propriety of the comparison, tends to establish the certainty of the doctrine. For Christ and his peo- ple are actually considered as one and the same person. They are one mystical body ; he the head, they the liiembers; so inti- mately united to him, that they are " bone of his bone, and flesh of his flesh," ( Eph. v. 30 ; Col. i. 20.) by virtue of which union, their sins were punished in him, " and by his stripes they are healed," (Isa. liii. 5,) they obtain impunity and life. Though there may be nothing in the pro- cedure of men which bears any resemblance to this miracle of heavenly goodness, it re- ceives a suflicient coniu-mation from the language of Scripture. He who wrote as an amanuensis to the unerring Spirit has declared, that " God was in Christ recon- ciling the world,' — unto whom ? unto some third party ? No ; but reconciling it by the death and obedience of Christ, " unto him- self," ('2 Cor. V. 19.) And I can very readily grant that this divine exertion of benignity and wisdom should be without a precedent, and without a parallel.* Difficulties, I own, may attend the expli- cation of this article, or be interwoven with its consequences. At the same time I must affirm, that our apprehensions of hea- venly things are so obscure, and our ideas * Fancy, in the person of Horace, said of Jupiter and his fabulous exploits, " Cui nihilviget si;)iile aut secundum." Much more will reason, in the character of a believer, »ay the same of Jehovah and his marvellous grace. of the divine benevolence so scanty, that we may very possibly mistake, and fancy that to be absurd, which is only great, wonder- ful, and incomprehensible.* — Nor shall I be thought presumptuous in adding, that it will be impossible for all the sagacity in the world to prove this doctrine an absurdity, though it should ever remain an inexplica- ble mystery. How many phenomena in the constitution of external nature, ai-e con- fessedly mysterious and inexplicable ! They challenge, they command our assent ; yet baffle ail our researches, and defy oiu' ut- most penetration. If, then, we find this truth fully and incontestibly revealed in the Bible, we must renounce the philosopher before we can consistently act the sceptic. Ther. Let us see, then, whether it be so fully and incontestibly reveale d in the Bi- ble. You have given me, as yet, but one of your scriptural images. Asp. I have another at your service. Christ is called an High Priest. What do you take to be the nature of the priestly office? Ther. The business of the priest was, I apprehend, to offer sacrifices, and to make intercession for the people. Asp. Very true ; and Christ could not, with any propriety, receive this appellation, if he had been defective in performing either of the sacerdotal functions. Now, that he offered no such victim as slain beasts, is uni- versally acknowledged. We might presume therefore, even though we had not the au- thority of an apostle to assiu-e us, that " he offered himself through the eternal spirit to God," (Heb. ix. 14.) The cross, shall I say?t rather his divine nature, was the altar ; his soul and body, each immaculately pure, were the holocaust. * Its unparalleled, nay, its incomprehensible nature, is no objection to its truth and reality. This is ra- ther a circumstance which perfectly agrees with the testimony of the inspired writers, and affords, in my opinion, an unanswerable argument for the divine origin of Christianity. It agrees with the testimony of the inspired \vriters, who called, not only God's wisdom, by way of super- eminent distinction, but his wisdom in a mystery, even his hidden wisdom ; which could not possibly have been conceived by any finite mind, however enlarged or sagacious. It affords an unanswerable ar- gument for the divine origin of Christianity, since it was infinitely too deep for the contrivance of men, and absolutely undiscoverable by the penetration of angels ; how could it be known, but by manifestation from above? Whence could it take its rise, but from an especial revelation. t The cross is, by some authors, styled the altar, but, 1 thmk, improperly. This notion seems to have sprung from, or given rise to, the Popish practice of idolizing the crucifix. At least it countenances such a kind of foppish or sacrilegious devotion, more than a Protestant writer could wish. It was the property of the altar to sanctify thegift. This, therefore, when referred to our Lord's sacrifice, is a far more exalted office than we dare ascribe to the instrument of his suffering. This must be the honour and prerogative of his divine nature, which did indeed sanctify the great oblation ; gave it a dignity, a merit, an efficacy, unspeakable and everlasting. DIALOGUE III. J Go These lie resigned, the one to deadly wounds, the other to inexpressible anguish, and both to be instead of all whole burnt- offerings. On this invaluable oblation, his intercession at the right hand of his Father is founded ; from this it derives that pre- vailing efficacy, \\'hich is the security of his standing, and the recovery of his fallen dis- ciples. Give me leave to ask farther, what is your idea of a sacrifice ? When Iphigenia was slain at the altar, what was the import of that memorable action ? Ther. It was intended, if we may credit Virgil's account,* to appease the indignation of the superior powers, and to obtain a propitious gale for the windbound fleet and confederate forces of Greece. But I hope you would not make that solemn butchery of the royal virgin, a pattern for the supi-eme goodness ; nor the practice of gross idola- ters, a model for the religion of the holy Jesus. Asp. By no means, Theron. Only I would observe, that the custom of offering sacrifices obtained among the most cidtivat- e(i nations of tlie heathen world ; that these sacrifices were frequently of the vicarious kind, in which the victim was substituted instead of the offerej, and the former being ' cut off, the latter was discharged from pun- ishment ; consequently that the classic au- thors would (in case there was any need of such auxiliaries) join with the sacred wri- ters to declare the expediency, and explain the nature of sacrifices. This also you will permit me to add, that if the heathens talk sensibly on any part of religious worship, it is on the subject of sacrifices. Their sen- timents concerning expiatory oblations seem to be the faint and distant echo of revela- tion ; and I have usually considered them not as the institutions of mere reason, but as the remains of some broken tradition. However, the truest and most authentic signification of a sacrifice, is to be leiirned from the Jewish ritual, explained by the gospel comment. Do you remember the Mosaic account of that ordinance. Ther. You are much better acquainted, Aspasio, with those sacred antiquities, and can give the most satisfactory information with regard to this particular. Only let me remind you, that alms are styled offerings ; and praises, both in the prophetical and evangelical M'ritings, come luider the de- nomination of sacrifices. Asp. Though praises and alms are styled sacrifices, they are not of the propitiatory, but eucharistic kind. They are never said to expiate transgressions, only are repre- sented as acceptable to God through Jesus Christ, that divinely precious victiin, whose merits both cancel our guilt, and commend our services ! According to Ther- Stay a moment, Aspasio. Let me recollect myself. This may be the meaning of sacrifices, as ordained by Moses, and solemnized among the Jews. " Sacrifices were a symbolical address to God ; intended to express before him the devotion, affec- tions, dispositions, and desires of the heart, by significative and emblematical actions." Or thus ; " The priest made atunement for sin, by sacrificing a beast, only as that was a sign and testimony of the sacrificer's pure and upright heiirt." Asp. Sacrifices, I acknowledge, were a symbolical address to God. But would you confine their efficacy only to the death of the animal, and the jturity of the offerer? No, Theron : they always had a reference to the great sacrifice, ordained in the eter- nal counsels of Jehovah ; prejjared when the co-eternal Son w.is made flesh, oflVred when the blessed Jesus surrendered him- self to be led as a lamb to the slaughter. They v.ere so far from beizig independent of this divine oblation, that they acted in perpetual subserviency to it, and derived all tiieir virtue from it. They were the sha- dow, but the body was Christ. " They exjjressed," you say, " tlie de- votion, affections, dispositions, and desires of the heart." But I rather think they ex- pressed the guilt and the faith of the offerer. His guilt : for this seems to be intimated by the very names of the jiroj^itiatoiy sac- rifices ; the sin and the sacrifice, the offend- ing action and the expiatory rite, being Signified by one and the same word.* It is somewhat more than intimated, by the oc- casion of the offering, and the state of the offerer j since it was only on account or guilt contracted, that piacular oblations were made, and only from a guilty person that they were required. His faith, or firm belief that ceremonial guilt, which shut him out from the communion of the visible church, and subjected him to the infliction of temporal punishments, was removed by these ; but that moral guilt, which defiles the soul, and excludes from heaven, should be purged by some better sacrifice than these."!" In the exercise of this faith, Abel offered up a more acceptable sacrifice than Cain ; and without this faith exercised in some degree, it was impossible to please God. » .SaHguiiK- w'acr.i'i \ciitos, ct virsiiio tacss • /iSujil denotes a sin, and sin-offcnng. Lev. iv. 3, 24. Dtll^^i signifies the tre3p.-:ss, and the trespass- offering, Lev. V. 15, 19. t They "sri.nctified to the piirifyinc; of the flesh," Heb. ix. l,"?. " but could not make him that did the service {ici feet, as pertaining to the conscience, He'o. j.t.y. 166 THEKON AND ASPASIO. If sacrifices were intended to bespeak integrity of lieart, methinks the state of in- nocence had been the properest period for their institution and oblation. But we never hear of this awful ceremony till man is fallen, and sin committed. If intended to denote purity of heart, why should they be particularly enjoined on that solemn day Avhen confession was made of all the sins of the whole congregation? (Lev. xvi. 21.) An oddly concerted device this ! in which the tongue must contradict what the cere- mony would recognise. Or, how could it be proper, after the violation of some law, or the neglect of some ordinance, im- mediately to go and offer a sacrifice ? What would be the language of such a practice ? " I have done wickedly, but my heart is pure and upright." Is this consistent with the spirit of humility, of modesty, or of com- mon ingenuity ? Is this the way of giving glory to God, or of taking shame to our- selves ? Whereas, let the sacrifice be a ty- pical expiation, and this is the significancy of the action, " Lord, I confess myself guilty. Punishment and death are my due. Let them fall, I beseech thee, on my victim ; that thy justice being glorified, and thy law satisfied, thy mercy may be honourably displayed in my forgiveness. Besides, Theron, what likeness, what agreement is there between the profession of integrity and an animal mortally wound- ed, wallowing in its own blood, and strug- gling in the agonies of death ? Whereas, between these dying pangs and the punish- ment due to sin, or the sorrows sustained by the crucified Savioiu', there is an ap- parent, a striking, and in various respects an edifying resemblance. Ther. They declai'ed, perhaps, the sacri- ficer's readiness and resolution to slay the brute in himself, and to lay down his life in adherence to God. Asp. I do not remember any assertion of this kind in the Bible, or any hint to coun- tenance such an interpretation. It seems, in some cases, to be incompatible with the very nature of things, and contrary to the express declarations of Scripture. Doves, you know, lambs and sheep, were offered in sacrifice. But shall we slay the lamb, the dove, the sheep in ourselves ? So far from it, that Christ's disciples are either described by these creatures, or command- ed to imitate their })roperties. " Be ye harmless as doves," (Matth. x. 16.) " Peter, feed my lambs," (John xxi. 15.) "My sheep hear my voice." (John x. 27.) Supposing, however, that this might be a subordinate design, or a valuable improve- ment of the sacrificial acts, yet their primary intention, and ultimate end, were widely different ; were much more significant of the divine compassions, and much better adapted to the comfort of mankind. They were an awful indication, that death was the wages of sin ; at the same time a cheer- ing declaration, that God was pleased to accept the death of the animal instead of the sinner's ; a figurative representation" also of that illustrious Person, who was to bear the sin of many, and pour out his soul for transgressors. Ther. Since sacrifices were of a religious nature, they should not only be instructive and beneficial in their tendency, but have their due effects with regard to God, to sin, and to the pei-son who brought them. Asp. They had their effects with regard to God, that his justice might be magnified and his anger appeased — to sin, that its de- merit might be displayed, yet its guilt be done away — to the person who brought them, that he might obtain pardon, be ex- empted from punishment, and exercise his faith on the Lord Jesus Christ. Tlier. There are so many sorts of sacri- fice appointed in the Jewish rubric, that I am at a loss for a distinct idea, unless some one be singled out and separately considered. Asp. Among all the sacrifices instituted by Moses, none more circumstantially typi- fied the blessed .Jesus, or more appositely expressed the benefits of his oblation, than the paschal lamb, and the sin-offering, on the day of atonement. An expositor, who cannot be mistaken, has given us this interpretation of the pas- chal lamb : " Christ our passover is sacri- ficed for us ;"f declaring hereby, that Christ is a real sacrifice ; that he was prefigured, in this capacity, by the paschal lamb ; that the circumstances which distinguished it, met in him ; and the advantages which re- sulted from it, were procured by him : those, in their truest import — these, in their largest extent. The words of the apostle speak « \S h.it says Milton upon this subject of sacrifices, and with reference to their principal desitjn ? lie calls them Religious rites Of sacrifice; informing men by types And shadows, of that destined seed to bruise The serpent, by what means he shall achieve Mankind's deliverance. — B. li. 1.231. ■f 1 Cor. V. 7. Would any one venture to say, Paul our passover is sacrificed for us ? Yet this, I think, may be, or rather is in effect said, by the ac- count which somepersonsgiveof Christ'ssatisfaction. The very thought of such a blasphemous absurdity is too painful and offensive for the serious Christian to dwell upon. I would therefore divert his atten- tion to a more pleasing object. Let him observe the exquisite skill, which here and everywhere conducts the zeal of our inspired writer.— The odesof Pindar are celebrated for their fine transitions, which, though bold and surprising, are perfectly natural. We have in this place a very masterly stroke of the same beautiful kind. The apostle, speaking of the inces- tuous criminal, passes, by a most artful digression, to this darling topic, a crucified Saviour. Who would have expected it on such an occasion ? Yet, when thus admitted, who does not see and admire both the l)ropriety of the subject, and the delicacy of its iu- duction i DIALOGUE III. 167 this sense to the plainest, simplest reader, Whereas, to extort any other signification from them, what subtilty of wit, and what refinement, or rather violence of criticism must be used ! The paschiil lamb was without blemish, Such was the lamb of God ; free from all taint of original sin, and from every spot of actual transgression. — A lamb of the first year, in all the sprightliness and floridity of youth. Christ also laid down his life, not when worn with age, or debilitated with sickness ; but in the very prime of his days; amidst all the bloom of health, and all the vigour of manhood The lamb was to be slain in such a manner as might occasion the most copious effusion of its blood. And was not this very exactly fulfilled in our suffering Saviour? His blood flowed out in vast abundance, by the amazing sweat in the garden ; by the rending lashes of the scourge ; by the lacerating points of the thorns ; by the dreadful nails which cleft his hands and his feet ; by the deadly spear which ripped open his side, and cut its way to his heart — Though the blood was to be so liberally spilt, a bone of the lamb was not to be broken. And you cannot but re- collect, you cannot but admire, the wonder- ful interposition of Providence, to accom- plish this emblematical prediction. When the soldiers had received a command to break the legs of the three crucified persons ; when they had actually broke the legs of each malefactor, which hung on the right side ef our Lord and on the left; their minds were over-ruled (by a divine infiuence, no doubt) to spare the blessed Jesus, and to leave all his bones unhurt, untouched. The lamb was to be killed before the whole assembly ; in the presence, either of the whole congregation of Israel, or else of that particular society which concurred in eating the flesh. And did not the whole multitude of the Jews conspire against our Redeemer to put him to death ? Did they not all cry out, as with one voice. Crucify him ! Crucify him! Was he not executed at one of their grand festivals, and in the sight of the whole as- sembled nation ? — The blood was not to be poured heedlessly upon the ground, but re- ceived carefully into a bason, and sprinkled, with the utmost punctuality, upon the door- posts. In like manner, the blood of the heavenly Lamb is not to be trampled under foot by a contemptuous disregard. It is the treasure of the church, and the medicine of life ; to be received, therefore, by an hum- ble faith, and devoutly applied to our con- sciences The sprinkling of that blood se- cured every Israelitish family from the des- troying angel's sword. So the merits of the slaughtered Saviour* screen every believing sinner from the stroke of offended justice, and from the pains of eternal death. — What must have become of the Israelite, who, trusting to the uprightness of his heart, should neglect to make use of this divinely- appointed safeguard? He must inevitably have been punished with the death of his first-born. Equally certain, but infinitely more dreadful, will be his condemnation, who, before the omniscient Judge, shall pre- sume to plead his own integrity, or confide in his own repentance, and reject the atone- ment of the dying Jesus. Ther. Now, if you please, for the sin of- fering,* which seems to have been the most eminent sacrifice of them all. Asp. It was the most comprehensive, because it shadowed forth not only the death of Christ, but his resurrection from the di?iid, and his ascension into heaven. As the various actions of some illustrious per- sonage, which cannot be exhibited by the painter in a single draught, are displayed in several compartments, yet all constitute one and the same grand historical picture ; so, these glorious events, incapable of being re- presented by any single animal, were typi- fied by two kids of the goats, which never- theless were reputed but as one offering, f These goats were brought to the door of the tabernacle, and there presented before the Lord. Christ also presented himself before God, when " he went up to Jerusa- • Both St. Peter and St. Paul speak of tlie blood of spriukling, 1 Pet. i. 2; Heb. xii. 24.; intimating. by this remarkable form of speech, that the death of Christ will be of no advantao;e to the sinner, unless it be applied to his heart; as tne blood of the paschal lamb was no protection to an Israelite, till it had tinged the posts of his door. Isaiah, using the same phrase, ana alluding to the same custom, says of our Lord Jesus Christ, " he shall sprinkle many nations," lii. 15. Not only initiate them into his church by baptism; but also, by the application of his blood shall cleanse them from their guilt, and deliver them from the wrath to come. * For the circumstances relating to the sin-offer- ing the reader will consult Lev. xvi. For those which concern the paschal lamb, he will have recourse to Exod. xii. t How runs the divine command ' " He (the high priest) shall take of the congregation twokids of the foatsforasin-otfering," Lev. xvi. 5. Are not these two ids sty led, in thesingular number and collective sense, an offering ? That we might not mistake, God is pleased to add, " and one ram for a burnt-offering." Here he names one, to prevent a misapprehension of his meaning, when he had before said two. To ren- der his meaning still more apparent, and that we may regard tliis goat as joined in the same offering with the other, the Lord, contrary to his own rule in all other cases, orders the high priest to lay his hands upon the head of the scape-goat, not upon the head of the goat devoted to death. He divides the necessary circum- stances of a sacrifice between them both, to intimate, in the clearest manner, that neither the one nor the other separate, but both taken together, were the one sacrificial oblation, appointed for this distinguished solemnity. If this be true, I think the passage is a pretty con- siderable proof, that atonement %vas made by suffering vicarious punishment; notwithstanding what his been urged against it, from the tenth verse of the chapter. Shoiild we require human authority for the support of this interpretation, one of the greatest human authorities may be seen in the celebrated Wit- sius; " Uterquehircuspertinebat ad unura sacrifici- um pro peccato, hostise unius loco. Uter'~iue erat pecuspiacularis, vicaria Israeli peccatori, ejusque pec- catum fereus." Ds Oeevn. lib. iv. cap. (i. 16S THERON AND A6PA6IO. lem, that all things written by the prophets concerning him might be accomplished," (Luke xviii. 31.) The goat on which the Lord's lot fell, was devoted to death. " Christ also being delivered by the deter- minate counsel and foreknowledge of God," (Acts ii. 23.) "was crucified and slain." The body was burnt without the camp, which pointed at the very place, and pic- tured out the very nature of our Lord's sufferings : " For he suffered without the gate," (Heb. xiii. 12.) was there exposed to the rage of men and the wrath of God, under the most exquisite pains of body, and ihe most insupportable agonies of soul; all significantly typified by the flame of a de- vouring fire, than which nothing is more fierce, more penetrating, or more severely tormenting. As the animal which was slaiig!?tered showed forth the Redeemer dying for our sins, that which escaped prefigured the same Saviour rising again for our justifica- tion. The high priest put his hands upon the head of the scape-goat, and with great solenuiity confessed the sins of the whole congregation. The import of this cere- mony is expressly declared in the sacred canon : " The goat shall bear upon him their iniquity."* It is charmingly explained by the prophet, " The Lord laid on him the iniquities of us all," (Isa. liii. 6.) and most delightfully confirmed by the apostle, " He himself bore our sins in his own body on the tree," (1 Pet. ii. 24.) This done, the goat was dismissed into a land not inhabited, a place separated from all resort of men, where he was never like- ly to be found any more ; to teach us, that our offences, having been expiated by the bleeding Jesus, are entirely done away, shall never rise up in judgment against us, but according to the prophecy of Jeremiah, " When the iniquity of Israel shall be sought for, there shall be none ; and the sins of Judah, they shall not be found," ( Jer. 1. 20.) It is fiu-ther enjoined, " that Aaron shall confess all the iniquities of the children of Israel, and all their transgressions, in all their sins." Iniquities, transgressions, sins are particularized ; and to this cluster of expressions, the word all is added, to in- form us, that the least sins need the atone- ment of Christ's death ; to assure us, that the greatest sins are not beyond the compass of its efficacy ; and that all sins, be they ever so heinous, or ever so numerous, are forgiven to the true believer. The high-priest carried the blood of the victim into the second tabernacle, even with- in the veil. So Christ entered with his own litis observable, that whereas the scape-goat is said tohear ( J«^^J) the s ns of Israel, Lev. xvi,22; the \vry same phrabO is iipplied to Christ, Isa. liii. 12. blood, not into the holy places made w ith hands, but into heaven itself. The blood was sprinkled before the mercy-seat, and left in ) the holy of holies, that it might always remain \ before the Lord. And does not Christ al- ways appear in the presence of God for us ? does he not ever live to make intercession for us? to plead his all-sufficient propitiation in our behalf; that the benefits procured thereby may be communicated, ratified, and perpetuated to his people ? TTier. These benefits, Aspasio, are as- cribed, in Scripture, to repentance and re- formation of life, qualifications of our own ; not to any such cause as a vicarious sacrifice, where the merit must necessarily subsist in another. What saj's the apostle Peter when he had just received his in- structions from the Holy Ghost ? " Re- pent and be converted ;" not look un- to an atonement, or depend upon a pro- pitiation ; " that yoiu- sins may be blotted out." (Acts iii. 19.) Asp. It is true, the benefits of the new covenant are promised to penitents, as their happy portion ; but never assigned to their repentance, as the procuring cause : never to their repentance, but to the blood of the great High Priest, called, therefore " the blood of the everlasting covenant," (Heb. xiii. 20.) being the condition stipulated in it, required by it, and in consequence of which all its unspeakable privileges are bestowed. Besides, the qualifications you suppose are the gift of the Lord. We are not able to exercise them till Christ, who is exalted for this very purpose, gives repentance. (Acts V. 31.) A conversion to God, and a newness of life, are not the effect of hu- man abilities, but the work of the divine Spirit, and the fruit of the Redeemer's death. Indeed, this death is the purchase of every heavenly blessing. This opens the heaven of heavens, and all its inex- haustible stores. By this we have the en- joyment of grace, and by this the hope of glory. T/ier. You begin to be in raptures, As- pasio ! Asp. Excuse me, Theron. It is not easy to repress the sallies of delight and devotion, when we muse upon such amaz- ing loving-kindness, and are touched with a sense of such immensely rich benefits. A great High Priest ! who is " higher than the heavens," (Heb. vii. 26,) yet humbled himself to death, even the death of the cross ! who is " consecrated for evermore,'" ( Heb. vii- 28,) and pleads all his merit, im- proves all his influence, for our consum- mate felicity ! " What heart of stone but glows at thoughts like these ? Such coiUcmpIations mount us. aiul should mount ])I.\].OGLiE III. 1G9 The mind still higher; nor ever glance on in.'n Unraptiired uninriamed." Night Thuugiitd, No. iv. But I check myself; and will either reply to your objections, or listen to your sentiments ; listen as attentively as you yourself attend to the music of that shrill- tongued thrush. Ther. Its sweetly-modulated lays, emi- nent even in the symphony of spring, have indeed atti'acted my ears. But my mind is disengaged and free for your conversation. Asp. I can rej)eat a song, sweeter far than this, or all the melody of the wood- land choii's. — A song, \^hich has harmony enough to make the brow of melancholy wear a smile, or to sooth away the sorrows of death itself: " Who shall lay any thing to the charge of God's elect ? It is God that justifieth ; who is he that condenineth ? It is Christ that died ; yea rather, that is risen again ; who is even at the right hand of God ; who also maketli intercession for us " (Rom. viii. 33, 34.) -According to my friend's principles, the strain of this triumphant exclamation was ill-judged, and should have run in the following manner : " Who shall lay any thing to our charge ? We have endeavoured to preserve a recti- tude of disposition, and to persist in a laudable course of action. Wherever we failed, we have been sorry for the fault, and have implored pardon from the divine ma- jesty. What then shall dismay us, or who shall condemn us ?" Your topics of con- solation would be complete, without having recourse to the death of Christ as an atone- ment for sin ; or, to the resurrection of Christ, as an evidence that the atonement is accepted ; or to the intercession of Christ, as the cause of our interest in that transcendent blessing. Ther. Since you so frequently mention, and so earnestly insist upon atonement, I should be glad to know the precise signifi- cation of the word. I am told, the original jihrase has nothing to do with the idea of making satisfaction. Asp. We may learn the precise signifi- cation of atonement, by considering the means, the effect, and the manner, whereby the means accomplish the effect. The ef- fect of atonement is pardon. The means of obtaining it are the death of Christ. The way or manner whereby the death of Christ becomes efficacious for this blessed purpose, is the sovereign appointment of his Father, the infinite dignity of his per- son, and especially the vicarious nature of his sufferings, or their being undergone in the stead of sinners. Ther. It has been supposed, and is af- firmed too, that our Saviour's obedience and death were conducive to our redemption, only in virtue of his Father's will and ap- ]iointment. Asp, I am glad it is some other, and not my Theron, who espouses this oi)inion, which is highly injurious to the dignity of our Kedeenier's jjcrson, and to the merit of his obedience. Neither is it very honour- able to the wisdom of the Father, unless we suppose him therefore to have appointed the death of Christ, because he knew it was fully sufficient for the glorious purpose. And why should we use that weak in- adequate expression, conducive to our re- demption ? Would any one say, of Solo- mon's elegant and sumptuous temple, that it was conducive to the accomplishment of what Moses foretold? (Exod. xv. 17.) David's provision of stones, of timber, and of gold, was, if you please, conducive to it. But Solomon's act was perfective of it, was the very execution of the thing itself. Such are the obedience and death of Christ, with respect to our redemption. Ther. But we forget the original word, and neglect to inquire into its genuine im- port. Asp. The word, \A'hich we translate atonement, implies, in its prim.ary accepta- tion, the notion of covering. Thus the ark was covered,* " was overlaid with pitch, within and without," that all its chinks might be secured against the insinuating attempts of the water, and all its timber defended from the injuries of the liquid ele- ment. When an object, in this or any other manner, is covered over for safety ; the covering receives every shock, and sus- tains all damages, which would otherwise fall upon the thing covered. The image, therefore, is very pertinently used to ex- press the true evangelical nature of atone- ment ; and the word is used, with equal jjropriety, to describe the mercy-seat,f which was a costly covering for the ark, made of ])ure gold, and exactly commensurate to that sacred repository. In this were lodged the tables of th& law ; whose precepts we have violated, and to whose curse we were sub- ject. Consequently the mercy-seat, both by its situation, its extent, and its office, prefigured the Redeemer ; who interposes between the law and the offender ; fulfils the commands, and sustains the curse of the former ; merits pardon, and procures salvation for the latter. As some fine flower, having entertained our eye with one beautiful colour, suddenly breaks, or gradually softens into another, and gives us a renewed pleasure ; such, methinks, is the nature of this delightful * /n3]3 Thou shalt " besmear, cover, or overlay. Gen. vi. 14. This is the first place in which our word occurs. It is supposed to give us the genuine and native sense of the phrase. Perhaps the English ex- pression " cover," may be derived from the participle nSD " copher." t J1"1DD Exod. XXV. 17. 170 THERON AND ASPASIO. word. It is expressive of the hoar-frost,* which, in a serene but shai-p wintry morn- ing, covers the houses, covers the trees, covers the whole face of nature. So the blood of Jesus, according to the Psalmist's representation, covers all our guilt, and hides every offence. (Psalm xxxii. 1.) Insomuch that, when this blood is applied by the divdne Spirit, the Lord " sees no in- iquity in Jacob." (Num. xxiii. 21.) He acts, as if he saw none ; neither punishes the guilty, nor abhors the polluted sinner. The same expression is used with refer- ence to a covenant, and signifies the aboli- tion of the contract ;f which was done by cancelling the deed, or expunging the ar- ticles of stipulation. By the covenant of works, all mankind became obnoxious to condemnation, were bound over to death. By the grace of Christ our obligation to punishment is disannulled, and the hand- writing of condemnation is blotted out. Should you ask, how this is effected ? By paying a ransom, and offering a sacrifice. Should you farther inquire, of what this ransom and this sacrifice consisted ? Of nothing less than the precious blood,f the inestimable life,§ the divinely-magnificent person of Christ. || Ther. These then are the capital ideas included in the original word — a covering by way of defence, and a covering by way of concealment. Asp. They are, Theron. — As the brain, in the animal body, is the source of sensa- tion, sends out various detachments of nerves to animate and actuate all the parts of the vital system ; so these two capital ideas branch themselves into a variety of subordinate, yet similar significations, which run through the whole economy of the gos- pel, to enliven and quicken the spirit of a believer. Let me instance in a few parti- culars. This richly-significant word de- notes— the exercise of divine mercy, (Deut. xxxii. 43,) the pardon of sin, (Deut. xxi. 8 ; 2 Chron. xxx. 18,) a cleansing from guilt, (Numb. xxxv. 33,) purging from transgression, (Psalm Ixv. 3,) reconciliation * 113 J Psal. cxlvii. 16. The idea deduced from noar-frost, is not so exact and striking, in our north- em clime, as in tlie more southern regions. There, the exhalatii ns and dews being more copious, the hoar-frost must fall thicker, lie deeper, and moieful- ly correspond with the notion of covering. t Isa. xxviii. 18. "^rj^abolebitur. "Propriesonat, oblinetur, obliterabiter, est enim. ^3^ Hebroeis pro- Sriequid obducere, atque inde(cumobductaet oblita ispareant) delere, abolere." Thus, I apprehend, the words should be pointed. $ " Not by the blood of goats and calves, but by hisown blood," Heb. ix. 12. § •' The son of man came to give his life a ransom for many," Mark x. ia. II " Who through the eternal Spirit offered himself without spot to God," lleb. ix. 14. for iniquity, (Dan. ix. 24,) the pacifying of wrath, ( Ezek. xvi. 63. ) Do not these pas- sages (which are expressed by some branch of the veib that conveys to us the idea of atoning) plairJy intimate, that the atone- ment of Christ is the meritorious cause of all these desirable effects ? is the foundation of every act of divine goodness ; and the origin of every blessing vouchsafed to sin- ners ? Ther. After all, this is the consideration which principally offends and peqjlexes me : God is a spirit, an absolutely perfect and infinitely pure being ; remote, inconceivably remote, from whatever is gross or corporeal. How then can he take pleasure in the effu- sion of blood, or the burning of flesh ? How can any such low carnal inducements make him merciful to sinners, or appease what you call his wrath. Asp. Rather, what the Scriptures call his wrath. You mistake our doctrine, my dear Theron. We never maintain that any sacrifice whatever, not even the propitiation of Christ's death, was intended to make God merciful ; only to make way for his eternal ]Hirposes of mercy, without any pre- judice either to the demands of his law or the rights of his justice. Our sentiments on this head are exactly consonant to his o^\^l declaration, and his own procedure, in the case of Job's friends ; (see Job xlii. 7, 8. ) Though displeased with their con- duct, he was merciful to their persons ; nevertheless, he would not exercise that mercy till they had first offered a sacrifice, and acted faith in a dying Saviour. Neither is it ever supposed, that the infi- nitely v\'ise and pure God can take pleasure in the effusion of blood, or the burning of fiesh, simply considered ; only as they had a reference to that noble and inestimable sacrifice, which brings the highest honour to his name, ^^hich those slaughtei-ed animals exhibit in a figiue, and to which every true Israelite had a belie\-ing regard. I say, had a believing regard. For it is af- firmed by the author of the Hebrews, that the gospel was preached to the Israelites in the wilderness, (Heb. iv. 2.) What does he mean by the gospel ? The very essence of this benevolent scheme, according to the apostle's own definition, is, that " Christ died for our sins," (1 Cor. xv. 3.) How was this gospel preached to o\\x fathers in the wilderness ? By significant emblems ; esjjecially by slaughtered animals, and bleed- ing victims, by which Christ was almost continually, though not so evidently as in these latter times, " set forth crucified for sinners." (Gal. iii. 1.) In this sense alone, those canial usages were worthy the wisdom of God to appoint, and the majesty of God to accept. This DIALOGUE III. ITl gave them a peculiar dignity and importance, and set them far above all the similar obser- vances used in the heathen worship. They were also, when thus explained, thus improv- ed, extremely pi'otitable to believers ; as they directed their contemplation to the future sufferings of a Saviour, and ratified to their faith the benefits of his ever-operating sac- rifice ; which, we wei'e assured by an infalli- ble voice, was effectual " for the redemption of the transgressions under the first cove- nant."" Ther. So you apprehend, that in those usages practised by the ancient Jews, the gospel was emblematically preached, and Christ in a figure exhibited ? Asp. IMost certainly, Theron. And for this cause, imder the law, almost all things were purged with blood, (Heb. ix. 22.) The multiplicity, the variety, the constancy of their sacrifices, were all designed to im- press upon their minds, and familiarize to their thoughts, this great evangelical truth. Was any one overtaken by a fault ? He must present a victim, and the priest must slay it, by way of trespass-offering ; to sig- nify, that ihe guilt which was contracted couj d be done away only by the atoning death of Christ. Had any one received a signal blessing? A beast was slain byway of peace- offering; as a public expression of gratitude for the mercy, and also as an emphatical declaration, that all good vouchsafed to fal- len man is owing to the Redeemer's ransom. Was any one to be invested with the priest- ly oiiice, or admitted to minister in the sanc- *uarj'? Aram ora bullock must bleed, byway of atonement, and for the purpose of conse- crating, (Lev. viii. 22. Numb. viii. 12.) in order to testify, that no man can officiate with acceptance in the worship of God ; that no service, though of a religious kind, • Heb. ix. 15. When I reflect on these words, I wonder how any one can assert, that all the Jews died under the curse of the law. Died under the curse of the law ! even though the apostle has war- ranted it for a truth, that " all these" (meaning Abra- ham, Sarah, Isaac, Jacob, &c.) "died in faith," Heb. xi. 13. Even though he has elswhere laid it down as a maxim, " so then they which are of faith," (in whatever period of time they live, or under whatever dispensation of religion they worship,) " are blessed with faithful Abranam." Gal. iii. 9. Even though the Psalmist in one place affirms "blessed are they whose unrighteousnesses are forgiven, and whose sin is covered f" and, in another ])lace, declares concern- ing himself and his pious coteniporaries, "look how wide the east is from the west ! So far hath he set our sins from us." Psalm xxxii. I. Psalm ciii. li. From these and many other texts, I think it is evident, that the faithful Jews no more died under the curse of the law, than the faithful Christians. The death of Christ procured the pardon and accept- ance of believers, even before he came in the flesh. From the beginning, he had covenanted with the Father, as their Mediator; and God, to whom all things are present, saw the certain accomplishment of his undertaking. He was therefore, by virtue of the divine decree, and in point of saving efficacy, "a Lamb slain from the toundation of the world." Though he laid down his life in the reign of Tiber- ius, he was a real Redeemer in all ages. can be pleasing in his sight, till the former is interested in the merits, unless the latter is recommended by the death of the great High Priest. And not only by their solemn sacrificial acts, but even by their ordinary meals, this grand lesson was inculcated. They were forbidden to eat the blood, in order to awaken and preserve in their consciences a reverential and fiducial regard to the pre- cious blood of Christ. The Holy Ghost assigning a reason for this sacred prohibition, says expressly, " Because the blood maketh an atonement for your souls," (Lev. x\'\\. 11.) the blood of beasts tj-})ically, the blood of Christ effectually. O that Christians would, in this particular, learn of Jews ; learn, at least, from Jewish ordinances, to have their attention incessantly fixed on that divine High Priest, who, by one offering, hath perfected for ever, — not barely condu- ced or contributed to the work, but hath fully accomplished it, and obtained complete remission for — them that are sanctified, (Heb. X. 14.) Ther. Some offerings were made without any effusion of blood. What could those mean ? Or how cotild they typify the sac- rifice of Christ ? Asp. Perhaps the apostle might foresee such an objection when he used that guarded expression, almost all things were purged with blood. If, in these cases, there was no effusion of blood, yet there was a des- truction of the substance. The meat-offer- ings were consumed by fire ; which is much the same to inanimate things, as shedding of the blood is to living creatures. The same ef- fect is ascribed to these oblations, as to those of the sanguinary kind. It is expressly de- clared of the poor man's tresi)ass-offering, which consisted of fine flour, and was burnt upon the altar, " It shall make an atone- ment for him," (Lev. v. 11, 12, 13.) So that here also was what we may truly call a visible prediction of Christ. The offerings which flamed, as well as the victims which bled, showed forth our dying Lord : whose one "oblation of himself once offered," com- prized all the qualities, and realized the whole efficacy represented by every other sacrifice. Ther. Another odd circumstance has often given me disgust, and been apt to pre- judice me against the institutions of the Old Testament. ]\Iany of them appear mean, contemptible, and perfectly puerile. " Can these," I have said within myself, " be or- dained by a God of infinite wisdom, and transcendent glory ? Can we reasonably im- agine, that a mandate should be issued from the court of heaven, on purj)ose to forbid the boiling, and enjoin the roasting of some particular piece of meat? (Exod. xji. 9.) 172 THERON AND ASPASIO. Will the Great Ruler of the skies concern himself about the pretiise manner of killing one bird, and releasing another? (Lev. xiv. 4, 5, 6, 7. ) Will he who claims the wor- ship of the heart, have such an especial re- gard to a drop or two of despicable blood, put upon the tip of the right ear, or the thumb of the right hand? (Exod. xxix. 20.) Surely, such childish ceremonies are too minute and trivial for the notice, much more for the solenui ap])ointment, of the supreme Majesty !" Asp. You will please to remember, that when those ceremonies were ordained, it was the infancy,* at least the minority of the church. If we advert to this circumstance, we shall have reason to admire both the all- comprehending wisdom, and the no less con- descending goodness, of Jehovah. His all- comprehending wisdom, in conforming so accurately and so minutely the type to the event, though the former was established long, long before the latter existed. Many ages before the Desire of Nations appeared, his picture was drawn, was presented to public view, and is now found to correspond in every feature with the illustrious original. What hand could be equal to such a task, but only the hand of an omniscient limner ? His condescending goodness, in adapting the tenor of his revelation to the state of his people ; " speaking unto them even as unto babes." (1 Cor. iii. 1.) not by naked pre- cepts, or abstracted truths, but by earthly similitudes, f and (if I may so express my- self) by embodied instructions, such as were level to their low capacities, and calculated to affect their dull apprehensions. The institutions to which you hint were undoubtedly mean and trifling, if considered in themselves. Accordingly, their wise and majestic author cautions his people against such erroneous and unworthy notions. " I spake not unto your fathers, nor commanded them, in the day that I brought them out of the land of Egypt, concerning burnt- offer- ings or sacrifices," (Jer. vii. 22.) " It was not my design that they shoidd acquiesce in * St. Paul calls thechurch of those times "nepios." an infant, or babe. Gal. iv. I, 3. And the ceremonial institutions have been styled, with as much truth as ir.cenuity, evangclium elementare et praeliminare. \ This seems to be our Lord's meaning, when he says to Nicodemus, "if I have told you earthly things." He had been treating of that internal spiri- tual renovation, which is the root and spring of all holiness. He had been speaking of that Divine >^pirit, whose gracious and almighty agency produces this desirable change. The nature of the former was represented, under the similitude of a birth, by which we enter upon a new state, form new ideas, and habituate ourselves to new practices, pleasures, pursuits. The operations of the latter were des- cribed, by the common and well known properties of 1he wind. This he mentions, as a plain and fami- ii.ir method of teaching : this he opposes to telling )i:ni of heavenly things; or delivering refined anS ished ! Howimperceptiblyhas the time stole away I These garden-gates I always used to approach with a particular complacency. They seem- ed to afford me a welcome retreat from the impertinence and vanity of the world. Now, methinks, I enter them with reluctance, because they are likely to put a period to this agreeable conversation. However, as my Aspasio enters with me, I am recon- ciled, I am satisfied. It will be in his power to restore the pleasure which must now be interrupted. And this is what I shall ere long request ; because I have not spoke my whole mind upon the present subject. At^p. Whenever you think proper, The- ron. This is to me a favourite subject ; and not to me only, but to incomi)arably » Virs- .*'n. 1. 176 THERON AND ASPASIO. better judi^es. The man who had been caught up into the third heavens, and seen the ^'isioIls of God, " determined to know nothing but Jesus Christ, and him crucifi- ed," (1 Cor. ii. 2.) At the grandest as- sembly that ever was convened on earth, this furnished the principal, if not the only topic of conversation. And in that world where the voice of joy and thanksgiving is perpetually heard, this constitutes the bur- den of the song, " Thou wast slain, and bast redeemed us to God by thy blood," (Rev. V. 9.) DIALOGUE IV. Ther. I jiust now desire my Aspasio to inform me, what that grand assembly was, (which he mentioned in the close of our last discourse), and where convened? Asp. Can you not guess, Theron ? — Was it in the plains of Thessaly, when Xerxes drew together the forces of more than half the known world, and appeared at the bead of all the potentates of the east ? Was it in the Roman forum, when the Senators were assembled in their robes, and the barbarians took them for a synod of gods ? No : it was on the mount of transfiguration, where the Son of the true God, the Lord of eter- nal glory, shone forth in some of his celes- tial and native splendour; with garments white as the snow,* and a countenance bright as the sun : where he conversed mth two of his most distingiushed saints, just come dowTi from the regions of bliss and immortality ; mth Moses the great deliver- er of the law, and with Elijah the resolute restorer of its honours : where he was at- tended by three of his principal ambassa- dors, who were to be the reformers of man- kind, and the lights of the world. This, I think, is the most venerable and august assembly that the annals of history have recorded. And what was the topic of conversation among these illustrious personages ? Not the affairs of state, nor the revolutions of empires ; not the curious refinements of literature, nor the wonderful discoveries of philosophy; but the igno- minious and bloody exitf which the divine * Mark ix. 3. The evangelist's description is, like the scene, remarkably bright, and the gradation of his images is almost as worthy of observation as the memorable fact. The garments were white — ex- ceeding white — white as the snow — whiter than any fuller on earth could make them : surpassing all the works of art, equalling the first and finest productions of nature. Nay, so great was the lustre, that it glis- tered like the lightning, and even d.izzled the sight. t Does not this very delicately, yet very strongly intimate, that the sufterings and death of Christ were the principal end of the Mosaic institutions, and the principal subject of the prophetic teachings ? For is It not natural to suppose, that Moses and Elijah in- tended, when ministering on earth, that very thing, which their conversation dwelt upon v/hen they de- scended from heaven ? Jesus was soon to make at Jerusalem. This circumstance, methinks, should strongly re- commend the subject to our frequent dis- course, even thougli it ^las less eminent for intrinsic dignity, and comfortable import. Talking in this manner, they arrive at the park ; which the moment you enter fills the view with its bold, enlarged, and magnificent sweep. It was diversified with level and rising ground. Here scooped into mimic amphitheatres, with the deer pendent on the little summit, or shooting down the easy precij)ice ; there raised into gentle hillocks, some of which were cano- pied with a large spreading, solitary oak, others were tufted with a cluster of taper- ing and verdant elms. Two or three cas- cades, gleaming from afar, as they poured along the slanting rock or the grassy slope, gave a pleasing variation to the prospect ; while they startled the timorous inexper- ienced fa\\Tis with their foaming current and \^-atery roar. Grandeiu" and simplicity seemed to be the genius of the place. Every thing breathed an air of noble negli- gence, and artless majesty. In the centre of all rose a curious roman- tic mount. Its form was exactly roiuid, somewhat like a sugar-loaf, lopt off a little below the point. Not coeval with natiu-e, but the work of human industry. Thrown up, it is supposed, in those perilous times, when Britain was alarmed by foreign in- vasions, or bled with intestine wounds. It was covered, all around, with alder shrubs ; whose ranks, gradually arising, and spread- ing, shade above shade, composed a kind of woody theatre, through which were struck two or three spkal walks, leading, by a gentle ascent, and under embowering ver ■ dure to the summit. At proper intervals, and on every side of the hill, were formed little arborets with apertures cut through boughs to admit a prospect of the country. In one or other of these leafy boxes yoii command, at evei^y hour of the day, either the enlivening sun, or the refreshing shade. All along the circling avenues, and all a- round the beauteous rests, sprung daffodils, primroses, and violets ; which, mingling with hyacinths and cowslips, composed many a charming piece of natural mosaic. How agreeable, as they climb and wind themselves round the hill, to reflect on the happy change wliich has now taken place ! Where steely helmets gleamed, or brazen shields clashed, the goldfinches twitter their loves, and display their painted plumes. The dens of rapine, or the horrid haunts of bloodshed, are become the retreats of calm contemplation, and friendly converse. In yonder lower spaces, where the armed troops were wont to patrole, from whence they made excursions to ravage the villages DIALOGUE IV. 177 ov terrify tlie swains, the fallow-deer trip lightly or the full-headed stags stand at bay. From a small eminence, but at a consid- erable distance, gushed a couple of springs, which, rambling through a grove, lost one another in the shady labyrinth. Emerging ; at length from the gloom, they approached 1 nearer and nearer, and fell into embraces at I the foot of this hill. They rolled, in ami- I cable conjunction along the pebbly channel I which encircles its basis, and added their ; sober melody to the sprightly warbling of j the birds. Flowing off in one common , stream, they foi-med the line pieces of water 1 which beautified the park. From thence I they stole into the meadow, and widened into \ a river. There, enamoured, as it were with ; each other, they glide by wealthy to\\'ns, and ' sweep through tioweiy vales ; regardless of I the blooming toys which deck the one, and ! of the noisy crowds which throng the I other. 1 So, said Aspasio, may Theron and his Selina, pleasing and pleased with each other, pass through the busy and the amusing I scenes of life ; neither captivated by the ; one, nor anxious for the other. With such ! harmonious agi'eement, and indissoluble union, may they pursue the com-se marked out by Providence, their happiness increas- ing, and their usefulness enlarging, as they draw nearer the Ocean of all good ! Then parted by a gentle stroke of fate, like the waters of some ample stream severed by the piers of an intervening bridge, may they speedily reunite ! reunite in consum- mate bliss, and never be separated more ! TJier. 1 thank you, Aspasio, for your affectionate compliment. Nor can I wish you, by way of return, a greater recom- pence, than the continual exercise of such a benovolent temper. For to exercise be- nevolence, is to enjoy the most refined and exalted pleasure ; such as makes the near- est approaches to the felicity of tlie Eternal Mind, who, as the Scripture most beauti- fully speaks, " has pleasure in the prosper- ity of his servants." But while we are seated on this mount, our situation reminds us of (what you just now mentioned) the grand conference re- lating to the death of Christ — a business for which you have indeed accoimted, but in a manner that may be thought not the most honourable to the divane atti-ibutes. Asp. I have represented it as a ransom 'or our souls, and a sacrifice for our sins. If you disapprove my account, be pleased o favour me with yoiu: own. For what mrpose, according to your opinion, did that jver-blessed person die ? Ther. To confirm the truth of his doc- rine, and leave us a pattern of the most erfect resignation. Asp. And is this all ? Shall we thus im- poverish the riches of grace ? "Was this no- tion defensible, it could never be desirable. But it has as little to support it as it has to recommend it. For, upon such a suppo- sition, where is the difference between tlie death of Christ and the death of the martjTS ? They confirmed the truth of the gospel : In their sufferings was obe- dience and resignation, the same in quality, though not in degree. Upon such a sup- position, what bciieiit couM the ancient patriarchs receive from the Redeemer ; since none could be improved by the exam- ple of his patience, or the pattern of his obedience, till they were actually exhibited, or how could Christ be styled " the Lamb slain from the foundation of the world?" (Rev. xiii. 8.) the advantages of whose death commenced from the veiy beginning, as they wiU be prolonged even to the end of time. Not to depend on consequential argu- ments, let us hear the express declaration of our divine Master himself : " This is my blood, which is shed," — for what ? To give credibility to my gospel, or yield an example of entire resignation ! Rather — " for the re- mission of sins," ( Matth. xxvi. 28. ) Will any one attempt to make the remission of sins, and the proi)osal of a pattern, or the ratifica- tion of a doctrine, synonymous terms ? They who can torture and transmute the genuine sense of words at this extraordinary rate, may metamorphose any expression into any meaning. If, then, we would consider our Lord's death in its due amplitude, we must con- sider it both as a pattern of piety and as a ransom for sinners : we must neither sepa- rate nor confound these very distinct, yet verj' consistent effects. Ther. Is it not inconsistent with the ac- knowledged principles of justice, that the innocent should be punished instead of the ofl'ender ? Asp. If the innocent person has an ab- solute power over his owti life, willingly substitutes himself in the place of the guilty, and by his vicarious sufferings fully answers all the purposes of a righteous government ; — in this case, which was the case with our Lord, I see not the least repugnancy to the rules of justice. The Bible, that authentic transcript of the counsels of heaven, avows, and by avowing, vindicates the practice, " The Lord hath laid on him the iniquity of us all.* When aU we like sheep liud gone astray, and were exposed to the stroke of \engeance, as those wandering creatures to » Isa liii. 6. O ^"'USJl i"a<^e '« meet, or fallupon, inahostilevindictivetnanner; withadegign to Wke vengeance, or inllict death; as an armed man fa)ls upon his enemy, or a fierce lion on the helpless lamb. N 178 THERON AND ASPASIO. the ravenous beaate ; tlie good shepherd in- terposed, and the just God made that ven- geance to fall upon him, which must other- wise have been executed upon us. " He suffered," says another inspired writer, " the just for the unjust," (1 Pet. iii. 18.) that, by expiating our guilt, " he might bring us to God ;" now to his gracious favour, here- after to his blissful presence. You will permit me to add a passage from our common favourite, Milton. Be- cause it is no less beautiful in itself, than it is pertinent to the occasion ; must please the critic, and may expound the apostle. Messiah, pleading in behalf of fallen man, thus addresses his Almighty Father : ' Man dead in sins and lost, Atonement for himself, or offering meet, (Indebted and undone!) hath none to bring. Behold me then ! me for him ! life for life I offer. On me let thine anger fall. Account me man : I for his sake will leave Thy bosom, and this glory next to thee Freely put off; and for him lastly die Well-pleased : on me let death wreak all his rage." Milton, b. iii. 1. £'33. Ther. The fine imagination of a poet will hardly pass for a decisive argument. When we are searching after truth, we must attend to the dictates of reason, not follow the vagaries of fancy. And reason, Aspasio, remonstrates against your notion of a vicarious sacrifice ; Reason, that pri- mary guide, and final lest, both in discover- ing and determining the sense of Scripture. Asp. Suppose you, then, my dear The- ron, that none are in possession of reason but the pupils of Socinus, and the zealots for Deism ? or that none make use of reason in their religious inquiries, but men of this mould ? Wrong not the Christian, think not reason your's ; "1 is reason our great Master holds so dear: 'Tis reason's injured rights his wrath resents ; 'Tis reason's voice obeyed his glorious crown. Through reason's wounds alone thy faith can die. Night Thoughts, No. IV. Poets, you see, are far from disclaiming reason. Equally far is Christianity from discarding the sober, the sanctified use of this noble faculty. When reason is un- der the influence and direction of the divine Spirit, we have the same high opinion of her excellence as yourself. And, when thus regulated, we have, I am persuaded, the sanction of her authority for all our sentiments. Reason, as she operated in the sagest of the heathen world, instead of rejecting, ap- proved and adopted this very scheme ; ap- proved it even under the disadvantage of a mutilated and defective, or rather of a per- verted and dead form. The current lan- guage of the classic authors, and almost every historian of Greece and Rome, are vouchers for the truth of this observation. As the Gentiles were unanimous in the custom of offering sacrifices, and equally unanimous in supposing their vicarious na- ture, so also are the Jewish writers. Ther. What man of sense pays any re- gard to the Jewish writers ? Legendary they are, and extravagant to the last degree. Dotards I might call them, rather ihan writers. Asp. They are, I believe, extravagant enough in their comments upon Scripture ; but they relate, with sufficient exactness and fidelity, the prevailing belief of their nation. In this case, their testimony is aa unexceptionable, as, in the other, their no- tions are chimerical. Now, had it been a mistaken belief, surely our blessed Lord, that infallible judge, and impartial reprov- er, would have testified his disapprobation of it. Surely his disciples, who were ac- tuated by the unerring and undaunted spirit of their Master, would have entered their protest against it. Surely St. Paul, in his epistle to that very people, and in his trea- tise on that very subject, would have set himself to rectify such an error, and have weeded out the tares before he sowed the good seed. But there is not the least hint of this kind in all the discourses of our Sa- viour, or in all the writings of his apostles. They speak to a people who were accus- tomed to look upon their sacrifices as pia- cular oblations,* and a typical expiation of guilt. They speak of our Redeemer's cru- cifixion, and the benefits of his death, in the sacrificial terms, that were of current use and established signification. If, there- fore, the popular opinion was improper, their manner of expression and address must be calculated rather to authenucate error, than to propagate truth. So that, I think, even the silence of the inspired pen- men on this occasion, is but little inferior to a loud attestation. Did they only say nothing against the doctrine of satisfaction by sacrifice, it would in effect, and circum- stances considered, be saying abundance for it. But they are very copious and explicit upon the point. Tker. Where are they so copious ? If you have such a heap of their allegations, it will be easy to pick out a few, and giv€|, us a specimen. Asp. It is as easy, Theron, as it is d( lightfid. " Messiah shall be cut off," says] the Prophet Daniel, " but not for himself. (Dan. ix. 26.) For whom then, and for what? Isaiah informs us concerning both. " For the transgression of my people was he stricken," (Isaiah liii. 8.) Because this is an article of the last importance, it is re- peated, it is confirmed, it is explained, with the most remarkable particidarity : " He was wounded for our transgressions ; he wa« * This, I think, is inconfestably proved bv Outram in his treatise De Sacrificiis. is, vqj 1 DIALOGUE IV. 179 bruised for our iniquities ; tLe chastisement of our peace was upon him, and with his stripes we are healed." (Isaiah liii. 5.) Our Lord himself asserts the same truth in the very same style : " I am the good shep- herd, and lay down my life for the sheep," (John X. 15.) St. Paul, in a multitude of passages, sets his seal to this momentous doctiine. St. Peter maintains it in very forcible words : " Who his own self bare our sins in his own body on the tree."* The sacred writers not only assert this capital article, but use every diversity of speech, in order to give it the fullest evi- dence, and the strongest establishment. " He made reconciliation for the sins of the people." (Heb. ii. 17.) "Jesus Cluist the righteous is the propitiation for our sins." (I John ii. 2.) " He loved us, and washed us from our sins in his own blood." (Rev. i. 3.) " He was made sin for us, though he knew no sin." (2 Cor. v. 21.) Tlier. Nobody makes any objection to these texts ; but the sense, the true sense of such phrases, is the thing in question. Asp. What you call the question, to me appears so plain, as not to want a decision, or admit of a doubt. However, since you seem to demand a critical scrutiny, it will not be thought pedantic if I make an ob- servation or two upon the original lan- guages ; or rather, as you are not acquainted with the Hebrew, on that language of which you yourself are a judge and a master. If one died for all, then were all dead. The preposition uti', in this connexion, must ne- cessarily signify more than " on our account, or for our advantage." Because, if it be taken in this unsettled rambling sense, the apostle's argument is vague and inconclu- sive. In case our Lord had suffered, only " to free us from some evil, and procure us some benefit," this would by no means im- ply that cdl were dead, under the sentence of condemnation, obnoxious, and doomed to death. (2 Cor. v. 14.) The utmost you can infer from such premises is, that all stood in need of a deliverance from some evil, or wanted the procurement of some good. Whereas, suppose the sacred writer to intend tliat our Lord's death was truly vicarious, and undergone in our stead ; that he suffered what was our due and our doom ; then the reasoning is just, and the inference undeniable. He gave himself avriXur^tv v-n^, a ransom for all. (I Tim. ii. 6.) If this does not im- ply the notion of vicarious, I very much question whether language itself can ex- press it. AuT^ov is a ransom, which con- veys a vicarious sense, in its most common and authorized acceptation. Avtj, which is equivalent to instead,* still more fully as- certains and strengthens the idea. 'Ttrsj, which is translatedyor, and denotes a sub- stitution of one in the place of another ; t this added to all, renders the expression as determinate and emphatical for the pui'pose, as words can possibly be. Shall I argue from a more obvious topic, which has no such dependence on the pre- cise significancy of the original ? " Surely," says the prophet; he speaks with vehe- mence, as of an affair which is very weighty ; he speaks with confidence, as of a fact which is very certain : " He hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows, (Isa. liii. 4. ) Wliat can this mean, but he hath taken upon himself that affliction and those miseries which properly belong to us ? Let us read on, and this meaiung will present itself in the clearest view. " We did es- teem him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted ;" we took him for a real malefac- tor, and thought that he was pimished for his own misconduct. In opposition to which injurious and false surmise it is added, " but he was wounded for om- transgressions, he was bruised for oiu- iiuquities." May I not here borrow the prophet's language, and say, with an air of certainty, Surely this is the plainest proof in the world, that our sins were the meritorious cause of Christ's sufferings ; and if our sins werti the meritorious cause of his sufferings, our guilt must be charged upon him, and pim- ished in him. St. Paul affirms that " Christ hath de- livered us from the curse of the law," (Gal. iii. 13.) How? By taking our place, and enduring what we deseiTcd ; or, as the apos- tle himself spealcs, to the same effect, but in a much more emphatical manner, "by being made a curse for us." Does not this evidently denote both a commutation of persons, and a translation of punishment ? He suffered, who was innocent ; not we, who were guilty. He also suffered that very sentence which the law denounced on us, for it is wTitten, " Cursed is every one that continueth not in all things," (Deut. xxvii. 26.) to this we were obnoxious. It is written again, " Cursed is every one that hangeth on a tree," Gal. iii. 13.) to this Christ submitted. And if Christ en- » AtT/, Matt ii. 22. 1 y this word, the septua- gint translate the Hebrew, n7\r\- And that nn n denotes the substitution of one instead of another, no student of the sacred language will voi- ture to deny, bee Gen. xxii. 13 j 2 Sara. xvm.JJ! 2 Kings X. 24. • 1 Pet. ii. 24. Very forcible words indeed. He bare f ^"H« "«? ^i'^" '' ^^ beseech, you iu —himself bare — our sins— in his own body; intended, Christ's stead," 2 Cor. v. 2 '. I»a t/Tif rtf iKtiovTt <^'is would imagine, to make the article of our Lord's ^ ^ ■ .^v . j i.„™;ni,t ho.ominfttPTPil unto X icarioussuffcnngs ck^r beyond all misappreheiKioii. I /"'". that m thy stead hemiglU ha\ e rmnwtered unto „yA »urc beyond »il doubt. nie. I'hilem ver. 13. 180 THERON AND ASPASIO. dured that very curse which we deserved — if, by this means, he delivered us from all malediction — either this must be suffer- ing in our stead, or else nothing can be called by that name. Shall I descend lower still, and refer our point to the determination of illiterate men ? Ask any of your serious tenants, what ideas arise in their minds, upon the perusal of the aforementioned texts ? I dare venture to fore- tel,thatart'ess and unimproved as theirunder- standings are, they will not hesitate for an an- swer. They will neither complain of ob- scurity, nor ask the assistance of learning ; but will immediately discern, in all these passages, a gracious Redeemer suffering in their stead, and by his bitter, but expiatory passion, procuring the pardon of their sins. Nay farther, as they are not accustomed to the finesses of criticism, I apprehend they will be at a loss to conceive how it is pos- sible to understand such passages in any other sense. Say not this is an improper appeal, or these are incompetent judges. The Scrip- tures were written for their'edification ; not to exercise the ingenuity of subtle dispu- tants, but to instruct the meanest of man- kind in the way of salvation. Therefore, on fundamental articles, we may assuredly conclude the expression will be easy, and the doctrine perspicuous ; so that " he who runs may read, and the wayfaring men, though fools, shall not err therein."* And though I am far from undervaluing the aids of litera- ture, yet, upon those momentous subjects which are inseparably connected with our eternal felicity, I cannot but regard the com- mon sense of plain, honest, humble Chris- tians, as the very best of critics- Ther. It has been said by a learned cri- tic, " That a vicarious punishment or suffer- ing gives us too low ideas of the Son of God, as it sinks them to the pain and suffering of a malefactor, the very meanest idea we can have of them. Asp. The idea is plainly suggested by the word of prophecy, and supported by the at- testation of sacred history. In that it was foretold, and in this it is recorded " that he was numbered with transgressors," (Isa. liii. 12; Luke xxii. 37.) To this purpose speaks St. Paul, though somewhat more cautiously than your critic. He was made, not indeed sinful flesh, but in the likeness of sinful flesh.; and though perfectly innocent, was left to endure the vengeance due to the vilest miscreants. Yes, my dear Theron, that glorious per- son, whom the highest angel adores, " suf- * Isa. XXXV. 8. The word/no?* seems to denote per- sons of slow understanding and duU ai>prehensions, as Lukexxiv. '2o \ or else it signifies those who, for want of a cultivated education and the improvements of literature, are accounted fools by the sons of science, as 1 Cor. i. 27. fered, as if he had been the criminal, the pain and punishment which we, or equiva- lent to that which we, the real ciiminals, should have suffered." If to consider this, gives us a low idea — if to suffer this, was a deep abasement — how exceedingly high, and how immensely grand is the goodness and the grace manifested therein ! the lower you draw the arrow on the string, the loftier flight it makes in the sky, and the great- er our Lord's humiliation for us, the more wonderful and adorable his love to us. Ther. As there cannot be a vicarious guilt, or as no one can be guilty in the stead of another, so there cannot be a vicarious punishment, or no one can be punished in- stead of another ; because punishment, in its very nature, connotes guilt in the per- son who bears it. Asp. If you mean by guilt the conscious- ness of having committed a sin, and the internal defilement consequent upon it, we never suppose such a vicarious guUt. It is not so much as intimated, that Christ was stung with the remorse, or stained with the pollution of the adidterous David, the perfi- dious Peter, and the persecutingSaul ; but that he was treated by the righteous God as if he had perpetrated these, andall the crimes of aJl believers, either in the past or succeeding ages. \ If by guilt you mean the charge of a cri- \ minal action, and the obligation to suffer the penalty, your assertion is nothing more than begging the question. It nakedly affirms the very thing in debate : and bare affirmations, unsupported by evidence, are seldom admit- ted as decisive proofs. We, on the other hand, are inclined to believe, that all our criminal actions were charged upon Christ, and that he suffered the punishment which they deserved. The former of these is not so properly called vicarious guilt, as real guilt — contracted by one, imputed to an- other. The latter we readily allow to be ^acai'ious punishment, sustained in their stead whose guilt was imputed. For both these points we have the authority of truth itself, speaking in the Scriptures, " The Lord laid on him the iniquities of us all :" here is the imputation, "Clmst has redeemed us from the curse of the law, being made a ciu^se for us ;" here is the vicarious punish- ment. And you know to what casuists we submit the interpretatiou of these texts — / common sense, and an honest heart. / Ther. Is not this shocking to suppose? horrid to affirm ? If guilt was really imputed to Christ, then punishment was his due. Justice might insist upon it, and he could not escape it. Asp. To suppose this, is so far from shocking my apprehension, that it appcHrs, even on your own principles, right and necessary. Right, because punishment, as you yourself have declared, always connotes DIALOGUE IV. 181 guilt ; I would add either contracted, or at least imputed. And indeed the sufferings of Christ could not be of a penal natiue, unless he endured them as under a charge of guilt. It is necessary to suppose this, otherwise how will you vindicate the justice of God ? He bid his sword awake, and smite the blessed Jesus, (Zech. xiii. 7.) But shall the Judge of all the earth do ■wrong ? Shall he smite, where there is nothing but innocence ? no guilt, either personal or im- puted ? That be far from him ! The thought be far from us ! Whereas, upon this supposition, it be- comes a just and righteous thing, that God shoxdd inflict, and that Christ should sus- tain, the most rigorous punishment. And I do not know but this might be the cause of our Lord's silence, when he was accused at Pilate's bar and at Herod's judgment-seat. It is probable he considered himself as standing before a higher tribunal, and re- sponsible to eternal justice for the criminal actions of all his people. In this situation, and in this capacity, clear himself of per- sonal demerit he could, clear himself of im- puted guilt he could not. Therefore he was dumb, he opened not his mouth. For though, as the Son of the most high God, glory and immortality were his undoubted right ; yet, as the Surety for sinful men, tri- bulation and death were his condign portion. And why should this be thought shock- ing ? It is not the least derogation to the transcendent excellency of Christ. It casts not the least stain on the mispotted sanctity either of his natiue or his life- To bear sin as a voluntary surety, is infinitely dif- ferent from committing it as an actual trans- gressor. To say that Christ was punished for any irregularity of his own, would be false, impious, and horrid. To say that he was charged with our guilt, and endured the punishment due — in the plain and full sense of the word — due to our sins, is so far from being injurious to his dignity, that it pays the proper honour to his mediatorial undertaking. It pays him the honour of the highest obedience to his Father's will, the deepest humiliation of his own illus- trious person, and the most boundless be- nevolence to mankind. Tlier. God is love, Aspasio, all love. Whereas you would Asp. Not often interrupt a friend's dis- course. But I cannot forbear interposing a query, on this occasion. Is there, then, no just displeasure in the Deity? What meaneth that solemn denunciation of the supreme Lawgiver ? " The anger of the Lord shall smoke against that man?" (Deut. xxix. 20.) What meaneth that aw- ful declaration of the Apostle ; " Tbe wrath of God is revealed from heaven, upon all ungodlincbs and unrighteousness of men?" (Rom. i. 18.) Or in what sense are we to explain that alarming interrogatory of the prophet, " Who can stand before liis indignation ? and who can abide in the fierceness of his anger? (Nah. i. 6.) Whence could those avenging visitations proceed, which destroyed Sodom and Go- morrah with a tempest of fire ? ( Gen. xix. 24.) which swept away so many thousands of the polluted Israelites with a raging pes- tilence ? (Numb. XXV. 9.) and consigned over so many legions* of rebellious angels to chains of darkness ? Surely, Theron, if there be any deter- minate signification in language, if any les- son to be learned from the most tremend- dous judgments, it is, that the Lord, though free from all the discomposure of passion, is nevertheless angry Avith the wicked, (Psal. vii. 11. Deut. ix. 8.) and will make impenitent ofl!enders feel the efl^ects of his wise and holy indignation. Ther. Does not your doctrine represent the aU-merciful God as a rigorous being, who, when once displeased, will hardly be pacified ? Whereas, the Lord himself de- clares by his prophet, " Fury is not in me." Men of satirical wit w^ould be apt to insin- uate, that you had mistaken Jehovah for Moloch, and was erecting a Christian church in the valley of the Son of Hinnom. Asp. We take our representations of God, not from the vain conjectures of men, but from the records of infallible truth. There he is described as a righteous God, a jealous God, (Exod. xx. 5.) and, to in- corrigible sinners, a consuming fire, (Heb. xii. 29.) though wonderfully condescending, yet transcendently majestic, insomuch that none of the fallen race are permitted to ap- proach his throne, but only through the in- tervention of a great Mediator, (John. xiv. 6.) and without shedding of blood, even the blood of a person higher than the hea- vens, there is no remission of any offences, (Heb. ix. 22; vii. 26.) When the Lord says, " Fury is not in me," (Isa. xxvii. 4.) the words have a pecu- liar reference to his church, which, in a pre- ceding verse, he had styled, "a vineyard of red whie." The connexion seems to de- note, that his fierce anger was tm-ned away from his people, on account of the satis- faction made by their Savioiu-. Though his own people are the objects, not of his * Millions.— The name of the fallen angels is no- where specified, and the veil sits deep upon the spirit- ual world ; so that we ran see no farther than revela- tion has discovered. Yet, I think, there is sufficient room to groimd a conjecture upon the reply which one of those execrable apostates made to our Lord. " My name is legion," (a word signifying a great mul- titude, five or SIX thousand;) " for we are many." If so many were employed in tempting and tormenting a single person, what armies, what myriads of those invisible enemies, must exist through universal na- ture ? It is an alarming thought ! should make us fly to our divine Protector, .ind almighty Deliverer. See Mark v. 'J, and i I'et. ii. 4. I.«i2 THERON AND ASPASJO. indigtiatioii, but of his love, let no ungodly wretches audaciously presume : It is not so with them. They are " the briars and thorns"" mentioned in the next clause; cumberers of the ground, unprofitable and noxious. Them he warns, them he chal- lenges : " Who A\dll set tliem in battle against me ?" Let them come on ; they shall find it a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God. Nay, he wiU not stay for their approach : " I will march against them," in liis threat- ening ; " I will pass through them ; I will bum them together." This will certainly be the case, if not in the present yet in a future world. Wien once the master of the house is risen up, and has shut to the door, mercy is gone for ever. Then nothing must be expected, nothing will then be ex- perienced, but " vengeance and fiery indig- nation, to devoiu: the adversaries of the gospel." God will then "execute judgments ill anger, and in fury, and in furious re- bukes," (Ezek. v. 15.) with such awful se\'erity and immense glory, as will cause heaven to adore, and hell to tremble. Yet ill all tliis there is not the least tinc- tiue of that outi'ageous temper, wliich in man we properly call fury. In man, fury implies an immoderate degree of resent- ment, which will hearken to no reasoning, and accede to no terms. The gospel ac- count proves, even to a demonstration, that this has no place in the divine nature. So far from it, that God, though highly provoked, has provided an atonement, has made overtures of reconciliation to his dis- obedient creatures, has even besoughtf a guilty world, to accept of forgiveness, (2 Cor. v. 20.) This is the piu7)ort of that gracious invitation wliich follows in the prophet : " Let him," let the wicked man forsake his way, " and take hold of my strength ;" let him fly to my crucified Son, who is the power of God for the sal- vation of sinners ; cleaving to his merits by faith, as some poor delinquent to the horns of the altar.l Thus he shall make peace ; • There is a fine contrast between the vineyard and the thorns, at the same time a regular continuation of the metaphor. As nothing is more common than to see the latter shooting up amidst the former ; so no- thing is more common than to have hypocrites inter- mingle themselves with believers. t 2 Cor. V. 20. It was an instance of singular com- passion in the blessed God, that though offended with Job's friends, he admitted of a sacrifice, and directed them to an intercessor ; both typical of Christ Jesus. But what unparalleled condescension, and divinely tender mercies, are displayed in this verse! "As though God did beseech you by us; we pray you in Christ's stead, be ye reconciled to God." Did the judge ever beseech a condemnelied in the veiy nature of forgiveness. Tiike away the former, and you desti'oy the latter. If an equivalent be given, pardon is no longer pardon, but a purchase. For- giveness ceases to be an act of grace, and becomes the payment of a debt. Asp, The text you quote is truly sublime and equally comfortable. But you forget to mention one article of veiy great moment, ^vhich closes and completes the glorious character ; which seems added on purpose to prevent any wrong apprehensions of the Deity, and to guard against all abuse of the doctrine : " He will in no wise clear the guilty."* — God will not, on any consideration whatever, absolve the obstinate, persevering, irreclaimable offender ; neither will he ac- quit any of the guilty race, absolutely, un- ..nditionally, or without such a satisfaction as may repair the honour of his injured law. • Exod. xxxiv. 7. This text is not without its dif- ficulty, especially in the original. Steuchus inter- prets the words, Et i»»oce»s non erit sine piaculo, " He shall not be acquitted without a piacular sacri- fice." I think they may be translated, with a little more propriety and exactness, thus : " Pardoning in- iquity, transgression, and sin," Hp^ll J^ / np!)") though not with impunity; or rather, "llioughhe will by no means let itgo unpunished," meaning sin ; which is the immediate antecedent, is expressed in the three preceding words, and may very properly be referred to in this clause. " We have redemption through his blood," says the apostle, " even the forgiveness of our sins," (Eph. i, 7.) It is forgiveness, you see, though bought with a price. It is remission, though prociu-ed by blood. It is free with regard to that Sovereign Being who pardons ; for he vs'as under no obliga- tion to admit of a propitiatory sacrifice, but might, without any diminution of his dignity, have left all mankind to perish in their sins. It is free with regard to the obnoxious crea- tures who are pardoned ; for it is vouchsaf- ed without any satisfaction demanded at their hands, or any penalty inflicted on their persons. It is in tliis respect also free, that an interest in the great atonement is granted to us, without the least merit, or any deserving qualifications of our own. In all this God is not only merciful but most tenderly and immensely merciful. And will any one calumniate this adorable me- thod of exercising mercy, because provision is also made for the glory of God's truth, God's holiness, and supreme authority ? Ther. Does not yoiu* notion of a propi- tiatory sacrifice derogate from the goodness of the Almighty Father, and transfer all our obligations to the incarnate Son ? Aap. Is there not goodness in allowing a substitute to suffer in our stead ? Is there not still greater goodness in providing a sub- stitute for us, without any solicitation on our part? Is there not the very highest exertion of goodness, in appointing a dear, an only, an incomparably excellent Son for the piu-pose ? This marvellous scheme, far, very far from obscuring, most illustriously displays the superabundant loving-^kindness of the Father. " God so loved the world," apostate and polluted as it was — How did he love it? To a degree unutterable by any tongue, inconceivable by any imagination, and only to be expressed by the infitiitely-precious effects : Loved it so, " that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth on him sliould not perish, but have everlasting life;" (John iii. 16.) And does this dero- gate from the goodness of the Almighty Father, to give not barely pardon and life, but give them through the hands, nay, through the wounds, the agonies, the death, of his divinest, dearest Son ? Such privileges, vouchsafed on any terms, must challenge the devoutest acknowledg- ments. But when attended with this ad- ditional demonstration of favour, tliey are enough to inflame us with gratitude, and transport us with admiration. They not only manifest, but commend* the divine » Uom. V. 8. 't.mt?r,et. It seems to be an image taken from the practice of tradesmen ; who, in show- ing their goods, point out their excellencies, and set in tlie clearest light whatever may bespeak their worth, or recommend them to the purchaser. DIALOGUE IV. 185 love ; show it to the greatest advantage, in the highest perfection, with every circum- stance of recommendation and endearment. By this means, blessed God! thou hast un- speakably enhanced thy benefits ! thou hast rendered them, though invaluable in them- selves, exceedingly more so by the manner of conferring them ! Ther. Again in your elevations, As- pasio ? The world, you know, is grown veiy rational and inquisitive ; will admit nothing but upon clear evidence and full conviction. We expect, in all religious in- quii'ies, not the flights of fancy, or the sal- lies of zeal, but a sobriety of reason and so- lidity of arginnent. Asp. The world, rational as it is, seems, by the taste of the present age, no enemy to works of fancy. The world therefore may not be displeased with an affecting stoiy. And a story, suitable to the occa- sion, just occurs to my mind ; such as may serve to shadow forth, though very faintly, the surpassing benignity and grace of our crucified Lord. An Asiatic queen, departing this life, left behind her three accomplished sons, all arrived to years of maturity. The young princes were at strife who should pay the highest respect to their royal mother's me- mory. To give scope for their generous contention, they agreed to meet at the place of her interment, and there present the most honourable gift they knew how to de- vise, or were able to procure. — The eldest came and exhibited a sumptuous monument, consisting of the richest materials, and orna- mented with the most exquisite workman- ship. The second ransacked all the beau- ties of the blooming creation ; and offered a garland of such admirable colours, and de- lightful odours, as had never been seen be- fore. The youngest appeared, without any pompous preparation, having only a crj-stal bason in one hand, and a silver bodkin in the other. As soon as he approached the tomb, he threw open his breast ; pierced a vein, that lay opposite to his heart ; received the blood in the transpaient vase ; and, with an air of affectionate reverence, placed it on the beloved parent's monument. The spectators, struck with the sight, burst into a shout of general applause, and immediate- ly gave the preference to this last oblation. If it was reckoned such a singular ex- pression of love, to expend a few of those precious drops, for the honour of a parent ; O how matchless, how ineffiible, was the love of Jesus, in pouring out all his vital blood, for the salvation of enemies ! Ther. My gi-eatest objection is still to come. If Christ suffered in our stead, he must suffer that veiy punishment which was due to our iniquities. This your or- thodox divines affirm to be incomparably worse than bodily death ; to be nothing else than the everlasting displeasure of God. Asp. The punishment due to our ini- quities, was shame, death, and the divine wrath. As for shame — Was ever shame like that shame which oiu- despised Redeemer bore? Though prince of the kings of the earth, yet born in a stable, and laid in a manger. When an infant, exiled from his own coun- try, and a vagabond in a foreign land. When engaged in the discharge of his mi- nistry, accused of the most flagitious crimes, and branded with the blackest names. AVTien brought to his exit, apprehended as a thief; condemned as a miilefactor, nay, the vilest of malefactors, a robber and a mm'derer is preferred before him. His executioners poured contempt upon all his venerable offices. As a king, they ridi- culed him, by putting a mock sceptre into his hand, and crowning him with ragged thorns* instead of a royal diadem. They vilified his prophetic character by hood- winking his eyes, striking his blessed head, and then asking, in cruel derision, " who it was that smote him ?"f They cast reproach on his priestly undertaking, when they sharpen- ed their tongues with malicious irony, and shot out those bitter words, " He saved others, himself he cannot save," (Matth. xxvii. 42. ) To render his infamy as pub- lic as it was shocking, they hung him on a tree ; and exposed him, defiled as he was with spitting, and disfigured with wounds, to the gazing eyes and contumelious scoflTs of numberless spectators. If you doubt whether Christ sustained the WTath of God, let us follow him to the garden of Gethsemene — a scene, which I would always recollect when I walk along the fei'tile vale, or expatiate amidst the flowery garden, or enjoy the delights of any riu-al retirement. — He had no remorse to a- larm his spotless conscience ; yet fearfubiess and trembling came upon him. No vio- lence was offered to his sacred person ; yet a horrible dread overwhelmed him. It was night, cold night ; and though our divine Master lay prostrate upon the earth, amidst the fall of chining dews, he sweat — sweat blood — sweat great drops of blood, run- ning down in reeking streams to the ground ! — " He was anointed with the oil of gladness above his fellows," (Psal. xlv. 7.) yet so insupportable was his affliction, that he could not forbear crying out, " My soul is sorrowful — exceeding sorrowful — » To have crowned the blessed Jesus with straw, would have been a vile insult, and treating him like an ambitious madman. But to crown him with keen, pungent, lacerating thorns, was adding cruelty to their insults; unheard-of barbarity to the mo3t con- temptuous mockery, Matt, xxvii. 3!). t Scornfully insinuating, that his sacred prophetic office was fit for nothing, but to serve such despicable purposes, Matt. xxvi. (id. 186 THERON AND ASPASIO. soiTowful even unto death !" (Mat. xxvi. 88.) What cause, what adequate cause, can be assigned for this amazing anguish ? None but the wrath of his Ahnighty Fa- ther, who was now become an inexorable Judge ; and treated him no longer as the Son of his love, buc as the Surety for un- numbered millions of guilty creatures. Ther. Was it possible that the innocent and holy Jesus, the dearly beloved Son of God, should be an object of his Father's wrath ? Asp. It was not only possible, but una- voidable and necessary : unavoidable, with respect to the divine holiness ; necessary, for the prociu'ement of our redemption. Sin was charged upon Christ ; all the sins of all believers, in all ages and places of the world. And could the infinitely-righteous God behold such a deluge of iniquities, (those abominable things, which he hateth) without expressing his displeasure ? Or could the blessed Jesus be punished, tiuly punished for them, without any painful sen- sation of their horrid evil, and of that tre- mendous indignation which they deserved ? If this was not the case, who can main- tain the dignity of his conduct diuing the agony in tlie garden ? "Was there no pouring out of the divine displeasure ? Then his be- haviour in that hour of trial did not equal the intrepidity of the three Hebrew youths, who continued calm, and without the least perturbation, while the furnace was heated into seven-fold rage, (Dan. iii. 16, 17, 18.) But if this was the time in which, no creat- ed ai-m being strong enough to give the blow, " it pleased the Lord to bruise him," (Isa. liii. I0-) if the most high God " bent his bow like an enemy, and stood with his right hand as an adversary," (Lam. ii. 4.) it is easy to account for the prodigious conster- nation of our Redeemer. It is not to be wondered, that his heart, though endued with otherwise invincible fortitude, shoidd become like melting wax. For who know- eth the power of that wrath, at which " the pillars of heaven tremble?" (Job. xxvi. 11.) Ah ! Theron, the vinegar and the gall which they gave him to drink, were not half so bitter as the cup of his Father's wrath ; yet, for our sake, he drank it off to the very dregs. The nails that pierced his hands, and the spear that cleft his heait, were not half so sharp as the frowns of his eternal Fath- er's countenance ; which, for our consolation, he patiently submitted to bear. — He was rent with wounds, and racked with pain ; his bones were dislocated, and his nerves convulsed : a thousand thorny daggers were planted in his temples, and life flowed out at ten thousand gushing veins. Yet this, nil this was gentle, was lenient, in compari- son of those inexpressible agonies, which penetrated his very iOuL The former fetch- ed not a single complaint from his mouth ; the latter wrung from his breaking heart that passionate exclamation ; " My God ! my God ! why hast thou forsaken me ?"— Astonishing words ! Surely, a distress, be- yond all imagination grievous,* uttered them. Surely, the vengeance, not of men, but of heaven itself, extorted them. Every syllable of which speaks what the mourn- ing prophet describes, " Is it nothing to you, all ye that pass by ? Behold and see if there be any sorrow like unto my sorrow, wherewith the Lord hath afflicted me in the day of his fierce anger?" (Lam. i. 12.) Here now is oiu- whole punishment en- dured ; the shame of the cross, and the sorrows of death ; the suspension of the Almighty's favour, and the terrible sensa^ tions of his wrath. Ther. Be it so. Yet all this amounts to no more thaji part of payment. For these sufferings were transient, temporary only, not eternal. Therefore the main cir- cumstance, the most bitter ingredient, was wanting. Asp. In the estimate of divine justice, and in point of penal satisfaction, they were equivalent to our endless punishment ; especially if we consider the severity of the sufferings and the dignity of the Sufferer. The severity of the sufferings. At the last day, all those fierce eruptive flames, which have raged in .^tna, in Vesuvius, and in every other burning mountain through- out the world ; all those confined subterra- nean fires, which have so terribly shaken the foundations of Jamaica, Sicily, and Con- stantinople— in a word, the whole element of fire, however employed through all the revolutions of time, wherever diffused through all the regions of the globe, wiL then be collected from all quarters, and burst forth into one vast, resistless, general conflagration. In some such manner, all that wrath, which was due to the innumer- * To heighten our idea of this distresi, the evan- gelists make use of the most forcible words — ri^^urc mCaix^uaCai, he was seized with the most alarm- ing astonishment— a5>i^optiy, he was overwhelmed with insupportable dejection — •n^iXtiToi, he was besieged on all sides, as it were, with an army of invading sorrows — He wrestled amidst strong cries and tears, not only with the malice of men and rage of devils, but with the infinitely more dreaded indigna- tion of God; he wrestled even unto an agony of spirit, !» ay'jDHct. All these circumstances of horror and anguish, constitute what a celebrated poet very justly styles, " A weight of woe more than ten worlds could bear !" The critic, probably, will admire the propriety and beauty of this line, which, composed of nothing but monosyllables, and clogged with the frequent repeti- tion of a cumbrous consonant, makes thesound remark- ably apposite to the sense. May we all be sacred critics ! have not only a refined taste to relish such elegancies of composition, but an awakened heart, to feel the energy of such important truths. DIALOGUE IV. 187 nble multitude of sinners, redeemed from every kindred, and tongue, and people, and nation, which, if executed on the offending creatures, had been prolonged to eternal ages — all that wrath was contracted into one inconceivably dreadful blaze, and at once poured out upon the interposing Surety ; at once flamed forth on ourheavenly victim. This will appear more than probable, if, among other particulars, we contemplate the un- equalled magnanimity of our Lord, who is styled " the Lion of the tribe of Judah," ( Rev. vi. 5. ) and compare it with his bloody sweat in the garden, and his exceeding bit- ter cry on the cross.* The dignity of the Sufferer. — Had our Saviour's sufferings been the sufferings of a mere man, or of the most exalted angel, I acknowledge they could have boi'e no pro- portion to our demerit. It were impossi- ble for a finite being to sustain the wrath, or discharge the debt. But they were the sufferings of the Prince of Heaven, and tlie Lord of Glory ; before whom all men are as dust, and all angels as worms. Was an infinite Majesty offended ? An infinite Me- diator atoned. Weigh the dignity, the im- mense dignity of the Redeemer's person, against the everlasting duration of our ])un- ishment, and it will not only counterbalance, but preponderate. Finite creatures can never make an infinite satisfaction ; no, not through the most unlimited revolution of ages. Whereas, when our divine Lord un- dertook the work, being truly and properly infinite, he finished it at once. So that his sufferings, though temporary, have an all- sufficiency of merit and efficacy. They are, in this respect, parallel ; nay, on account of the infinitude of his nature, they are more than parallel to an eternity of our punishment. It was Enimanuel, it was the incarnate God, who purchased the church, and re- deemed sinners, with his own blood. (Acts XX. 28.) The essential grandeur of our Sa- viour communicated its ennobling influence to every tear he shed, to every sigh he heaA'- ed, and every pang he felt. This renders his sufferings a perfect, as their xacarious nature renders them a pro- per, satisfaction. And though " the wood of Lebanon was not sufficient to burn, nor all the beasts thereof sufficient for a burnt- offering," ( Isa. xl. 16,) this sacrifice fully answers the exigence of the case. This sacrifice sends up an ever-acceptable odour to the skies, and diffuses its sweet perfume through all generations ; such as appeases heaven, and revives the world. Yes, Theron, you must give me leave to • I think the language of the Greek liturgy is the language of strict propriety, as well as of fervent de- votion, A(' uy)iui'^aiv an •ra^itf/^ariov. The suffer- ings of our Lord are, in their measure and weight, to ns unknown ; absolutely beyond the reach of hu- man imagination. repeat the delightful truth : It was " the great God, even our Saviour Jesus Christ, who gave himself for us." (Tit. ii. 13, 14.) His sacrifice, therefore, must be inconceiv- ably meritorious. O that sinners, the vilest of sinners, knew its all-sufficient efficacy ! they would no longer be holden in the bonds of iniquity, by that destructive sug- gestion of the devil, " There is no hope." (Jer. ii. 25.) TTier. What valuable end could such vi- carious sufferings accomplish ? Supjjose God absolutely inexorable, and they caimot avail. Suppose him divinely merciful, and they are needless. Asp. The difficulty you propose, I think, has been obviated already ; so that I have no occasion to solve your dilemma, but only to answer yom: queiy. These sufferings, as a punishment, gave ample satisfaction to tlie divine violated law ; as a sacrifice, they ])er- fectly reconciled us to our offended God ; as a price, they redeemed us from every evil, and purchased for us a title to ;ill j;ood. Tliis is a subject of the most distinguish- ed importance. Let not my Theron initi- gine, I woidd abuse his patience, if I dwell a moment longer on the favourite topic. I might enumerate many ends, all magniiicent and gracious, accomplished by this wonder- ful expedient. I content myself with spe- cifying a few ; but those, such as bring the highest glory to God, administer the most solid comfort to man, and most effectually promote the interests of piety. In this we have a manifestation of the most awfid justice, and at the same time a display of imbounded goodness. Awful justice, in that the great and terrible God, though determined to exercise mercy, would exercise it only in such a manner as might vindicate the authority of his law, might testify the purity of his nature, and declare the inviolable faithfulness of his word. Un- bounded goodness ; in that he withheld not his Son, his only Son, but freely gave him up for us all ; gave up " the brightness of his gloi7," to be covered with infamy ; gave up " the beloved of his soul," to expire in agonies ; on purpose to obtain honour and immortality for apostate men. The tor- ments inflicted on all the damned in hell, are not so fearful a monument of God's jus- tice, as those dying agonies of the Lord Jesus Christ. Nor could a thousand worlds conferred on mankind, have been such an act of superabundant munificence, as that gift of his ever-blessed Son. Look we for power and wisdom ? To up- hold the humanity of Christ, under all the stiulied cruelties of men, under the insatiate rage of devils, and the far more tremendous curse of the divine law ;* to conquer sin, • Isaiah xliii. 6. " I the Lord, will hold thine hand, and will keep thee.'* This is spoken of the 188 THERON AND ASPASIO. and death, and hell, by a person bound with fetters, nailed to a tree, and crucified in weakness ; to expiate, by one offering, the innumerable millions of crimes committed by all his people from the beginning to the end of time : was not this power ? match- less power ! astonishing power ! And as for wisdom, how admirable was the contriv- ance, which could harmonize the seemingly opposite claims of mercy and of justice ! and not only satisfy each, but magnify both ! Had punishment been executed in all its ri- gour on the sinner's person, mercy had lost her amiable honours. Had the sinner been restored to favour, without any penalties sustained either by himself or his Surety, justice had been set aside as an insignificant attribute. Whereas, by our Lord's vicari- ous and expiatory sufferings, both are mani- fested, and both are exalted. Therefore the Scripture affirms, that God hath not only exercised, but abounded in wisdom and prudence ; nay, hath abounded in all wis- dom and prudence, (Eph. i. 8,) by this combination of righteous vengeance and triumphant grace, which is at once so hon- ourable to himself and so advantageous to his people. Ther. " Advantageous to his people." — I am glad you are come to this point. This is what I want to have cleared up. I am for those doctrines, which glorify God by doing good to man. Give me the reli- gion whose aspect is benign, and whose agency is beneficial : not like a meteor, to dazzle us with a vain glitter ; or like a comet, to terrify us with a formidable glare ; but like yonder sun, whose beams shed light, and life, and joy all around. Asp. If this be what you seek, and what .you prize, the Christian religion, this doc- trine in particular, will answer your warmest expectations, and challenge your highest es- teem ; for it is rich with benefits of the most needful, the most desirable, and most exalted kind. — The fu'st and grand blessing is pardon of sins ; pardon, not of small sins only, but of the most aggravated, the most horrid, the most enormous. Be they flam- ing as scarlet, be they foul as the dunghill, be they black as hell itself — yet they shall be as the spotless wool, or as the vii'gin snows. Isaiah i 18. They shall " be, as though they had never been." Pardon, not of a few, but of all sins. Be they numer- ous as the hairs of our head, numerous as the st94 THERON AND ASPASIO. may lie not stand hi the same relation with regai-d to justifying obedience? There is the same reason for the one as for the other, every argument, in favour of the former, is equally conclusive in behalf of the latter. Ther. I very freely grant, that Christ Jesus was punished in our stead ; that his death is the expiation of our sin, and the cause of our security from penal suffering. But this — Asp. Will imdeniably prove, that sin was imputed to him ; otherwise he could not truly suffer in our stead, nor be justly punished at all. " And imputation is as rea. sonable and justifiable in one case as in the other, for they both stand upon one and the same foot ; and, for that reason, he who throws dowTi one, throws down both." I should not have interrupted my Theron, only to introduce this answer from an eminent divine, who adds what should be very seri- ously considered -. " And therefore, who- ever rejects the doctrine of the imputation of our Saviour's righteousness to man, does, by so doing, reject the imputation of man's sin to our Saviour, and all the consequences of it. Or, in other words, he who rejects the doctrine of the imputation, does, by so doing, rqect the doctrine of the expiation likewise."* Ther. I know nothing of this divine; and, eminent as he is, can hardly take his ipse dixit for a decision. Asp. I was in hopes you would pay the greater regard to his opinion, because he is not in the number of the whimsical fana- tics. Give me leave to observe farther, that the imputation of Christ's righteousness bears an evident analogy to another great truth of Christianity. We did not personally com- mit Adam's sin, yet are we chargeable with guilt, and liable to condemnation, on that — Ther. How ! we chargeable with guUt and liable to condemnation on account of Adam's transgression ! This position I must deny, I had almost said, I must ab- hor. None other could, in the eye of jus- tice and equity, be blamable for any of- fence of our first parents, but they only. Asp. So says Theron ; but what says St. Paul ? This may be the voice of natural reason, but what is the language of divine revelation ? " In whom," that is, in Adam, " all have sinned. " Ther. The wonls, if I remember right. For that all have sinned tation I might contend, as not In the least incompatible with the original phrase,* and as the most precisely suitable to the sacred argument. But I wave this advantage. Let the words run into your moxdd, and the translation take your form. They are equally decisive of the point in debate. They assign the reason why death came upon all men, infants themselves not ex- cepted : " For that," or inasmuch as, " all have sinned." How ? not in their own person ; this was utterly impossible. But in that first grand transgression of their fe- deral head, which, as it could not be ac- tually committed by them, must, according to the tenor of the apostle's arguing, be im- puted to them. Ther. Pray, what do you mean by that stiff, and to me unintelligible phrase, fe- deral head ? Asp. I mean what Milton celebrates, when he represents the Almighty Father thus addressing his eternal Son : " Be thou in AdarVs room The head of all mankind, though Adam's son. As in hira perish all men, so in thee. As from a second root, shall be restored As ma:ny as are restored ; without thee none." Book 3. 1. 2ii5. Asp. In the margin, they are translated as I have repeated them. For this interpre- « Staynoe upon " Salvation by Jesus Christ alone." Vol. i. p. 334. Where the reader may find several weighty considerations, clearly proposed, and strongly urged, for the explanation and establishment of this capital doctrine. I mean what the apostle teaches, when he calls Christ " the second man," ( 1 Cor. XV. 47.) and "the last Adam," (1 Cor. xv. 45. ) The second ! the last ! How ? Not in a numerical sense, not in order of time, but in this respect -. That as Adam was a public person, and acted in the stead of all mankind, so Christ was a public person, and acted in behalf of all his people. That, as Adam was the first general representa- tive of this kind, Christ was the second and the last ; there never was, and there never will be any other. That what they seve- rally did, in this capacity, was not intended to terminate in themselves, but to affect as many as they respectively represented. This is St. Paul's meaning, and this is the foundation of the doctrine of imputation. Ther. If you build it on no other founda- tion than your own particular sense of the apostle's words, perhaps your ground may prove sandy, and treacherous to its trust. Asp. I build it upon mine, and I deduce it from yours, Theron. But I am far from resting the whole weight of the cause upon a single text. It is established, again and again, in this same chapter. Neither do I wonder at the prejudices which you and others may entertain against the doctrine. It lies qiute out of the road of reason's re- searches ; it is among the wonderfid things of God's law. This the inspired penman foresaw, and modelled his discourse ac- cordingly. Like some skilful engineer, who. E^' u vavrii ■/i/xa^rov. Rom. v. 12. DIALOGUE V. 195 though he makes the whole compass of his fortiiication strong, yet bestows peculiar and additional strength on those parts which he apprehends wiU be exposed to the fiercest attack ; so the wise, the divinely wise apos- tle, has inculcated, and re-inculcated this momentous point, has enforced it with all the assiduity of zeal, and conlij-med it by all the energy of expression. "If, through the offence of one, many be dead — The judgment was by one to condemnation — By one man's offence, death reigned by one — By the offence of one, judgment came upon all men to condemnation," (Rom. v. 15, 16, 17, 18.) That there may remain no possibility of mistaking his meaning, or of eluding his argimient, he adds, " By one man's disobedience, many were made sin- ners," (Rom. V. 19.) Tlier. Sin, I am told by a celebrated ex- positor, sometimes signifies punishment. He farther informs me, that we may be said to sin in Adam, not by the imputation of his disobedience to us, but by becoming obnoxious to those sufferings which were due to his sin. Asp. Then the apostle's reasoning will stand in this form ; " death came upon all men, for that all have sinned ;" that is, " death came upon all men, because all have been punished, or, an obnoxiousness to pun- ishment came upon men, because all are become obnoxious to punishment." A goodly strain of argumentation for an unerr- ing writer to use ! But surely Gamaliel's pupil would disclaim, nmch more would Christ's ambassador scorn, such weak and immeaning chicanery. He mentions sin and its punishment ; but never hints, that they are intended to signify one and the same thing. He all along maintains a dis- tinction between them ; represents the for- mer as the cause of the latter. Judgment condemnation, death, are owing to sin, of- fence, disobedience. It is by the imputa- tion of these that we become obnoxious to those. This account is clear, is natural, and wants no strained criticisms to support it. This account demonstrates the equity of that providential government, which exe- cutes the sentence of death even on those descendants of Adam who have not sinned in their own persons. It also illustrates the procedure of that sovereign gi-ace, which treats as righteous, and entitles to life, even those believers in Jesus, who have not obeyed in their o\\r\ persons. — What says our chm-ch ? You -have a great veneration for the church of England, Theron. Ther. I have. But, I fear, my Aspasio has neither so honourable an opinion of her worship, nor so steady an adherence to her constitution ; othenvise he woidd not so highly extol those ambitious and canting hypocrites the Puritans ; who were the most inveterate enemies of our excellent establishment, and would have rejoiced in its utter subversion. Asp. As to the Puritans, you will do me the justice to acknowledge, that I speak only of their evangelical tenets, abstracted from all political principles. As to myself, your fears are friendly, but I trust they are groundless. I \A'ould only ask, who are to be deemed the most affectionate and faith- ful sons of their siicred mother ? Those, I presume, who most cordially embrace her doctrines, and most dutifully submit to her precepts. By this touchstone let my fide- lity be tried ; and, for an immediate trial, be pleased to repeat her ninth article. Ther. I cannot say, that I remember the particular words of any, though I have often read, and veiy much approve them all. Asp. I wish you would commit to your memory four or five of the most distin- guished.* They are a valuable treasure, and contain the quintessence of the gospel. These are the words of the ninth article. " Original sin is the faidt and corruption of every man, that naturally is engendered of the offspring of Adam." It is the fault, says the pious Bishop Beveridge, and there- fore we are guilty of it ; it is the corruption also, and therefore we are defiled with it. Our homilies have recourse to no such pal- liatives, and qualifying interpretations, as my Theron's expositor uses. One of thenn affirms point blank, that " in A dam all men sinned universally." This seems to be a paraphrase on the text, whose translation you lately controverted. In what sense our great poetical divine imderstood the sa- cred writer is apparent from the following words, which are supposed to have been spoken by Jehovah himself : ' Adam's crime Makes guilty all his sons." Milton, book iii. I. 290. And from another passage, where our re- bellious progenitor, bewailing his aggravated misery, and the extensive malignity of his sin, declares, " In me all Posterity stands cursed." — Book x. 1. 817. For my own part, I must confess, that if the transmission of original depravity be granted, I know not how the imputation of Adam's destructive apostacy can be denied. If we had no concern in the one, how cotild we be justly punished with the other ? I say punished. Vov to lose the primitive integrity of our nature, and inherit a de- praved disposition, is at once a most deplor- able calamity, and a most terrible ptmish- ment. Corruption transmitted, and guilt imputed, seem to be doctrines indissolubly EspeciaUy Articles 9, 10, 11, 12, 13. 196 THERON AND ASPASIO. connected. To allow the former, and re- ject the latter, is in my apiirchension to acknowledge the effect without achnitting tlie cause. , Ther. To make us parties in a covenant, which we did not agree to, can this be equitable ? To ruin us for a crime which we never committed, am this be merciful ? Surely this is a ilagraiit injustice, never to be ascribed to the all-gracious God ; a dia- bolical barbarity, add some, never to be mentioned without the utmost detestation. Asp. I see no cause for such a tragical outcry of barbarity, nor indeed for any complaint of injustice. Not to insist upon the sovereignty of an all-creating God, and his unquestionable right, to " do what he will with his own," (IVIatt. xx. 13.) 1 would only ask, did he not condescend to transact with man, not on the foot of abso- lute uncontrollable authority, but in the honourable and delightful way of a cove- nant ? Were not the terms of this covenant perfectly easy, and wonderfully gracious ? Wonderfully gracious ; for they proposed a state of inconceivable and everlasting feli- city to creatures who were entitled to no happiness; (Lidce x. 28.) had not the least claim to any good ; no, not so much as to the privilege of existence. Perfectly easy ; for what was the condition on man's part ? Not any rigorous act of duty, nor se- vere course of self-denial, but the free en- joyment of millions of blessings and plea- sures, with only the prohibition of one |x?r- nicious indulgence. Here, then, is made on one hand, a promise of the most glorious reward that God himself could give ; and nothing required on the other, but the smallest expression of allegiance that man himself could wish. And is this injustice ? is this barbarity ? Ther. AU this was equitable enough with regard to Adam ; but why should we be condemned for his violation of the cove- nant ? Or how was such a constitution ol things gracious with respect to us ? Asp. " AV'hy condemned ?" Because we should have been partakers of the benefit and the glory, if he had persevered in his duty. To this, I presume, none would ob- ject. And if they would not to the one, they ought not to the other. You ask farther, " How was such a con- stitution of things gracious with respect to us ?" I answer, because it was the most likely means to secure the happiness of us and all mankind. Was not Adam, of all persons, by far the best qualified to act as a general head? He had a perfection of knowledge, to discern his true interest ; a perfection of holiness, to capacitate him for obedience ; and a perfection of happi- ness, disposing him to perseverance. As none could have more eminent qualifica- tions, none coidd have so many obligations. 1 His own welfare, both bodily and spiritual, ' was at stake ; the eternal interests of his rising family, and of his remotest posterity, were depending; thelises, the soids, theever- lastingall of the whole human race, were em- barked on the single bottom of his fidelity. Therefore the felicity of every individual that should spring from his loins, was a fresh motive to vigilance, an additional en- gagement to duty.* As his love to his offspring was more refined, more exalted, more god-like than ours, all these consider- ations, and inducements must operate upon him in their fullest scope, and with the strongest energy. What an intrenchment was here to keep out disobedience, and ward off ruin ! An intrenchment deep as hell, high as heaven, wide as the whole ex- tent of the human species. — Here then I may venture to throw the gauntlet, and challenge the whole world. Let the most penetrating mind de\ase a scheme, so wisely and graciously calculated to ascertain the success of a probationary state. If this be impracticable, then must every mouth be stopped ; no tongue can have the least reason to complain : I, for my part, shall think myself obliged to admire the benignity of my Creator's conduct ; and God may justly demand of all intelligent creatures, " What could have been done more" for the preservation and felicity of mankind, " that I have not done ?" (Isaiah v. 4.) Especially, when to all this we add, that the same Almighty Being, who appointed Adam to be our representative in the first covenant, without asking our actual con- sent, appointed also Christ to be our repre- sentative in the second covenant, without sta3iug for our actual solicitation. When we take this into the accoimt, there remains not the least shadow of injustice ; but good- ness, transcendent goodness, shines forth with the brightest lustre. Ther. Goodness, Aspasio ! This is sur- prising indeed ! Why, if Adam's transgres- sion be laid to our charge, we are damnable creatures the very moment we exist ; and are liable to the torments of hell, even on account of his disobedience. To term this goodness, is the greatest of paradoxes ! to affirm it of the Deity, is little less than blas- phemy ! Asp. Let us be calm, my dear friend, and * Should any person imagine himself more capable of standing than Adam, who was endowed with all the perfections of an innocent, holy, god-like nature ; I think, by this very imagination he begins to fall; fall into pride. Should any person suppose, that, from a view to his own particular salvation, he would con- tinue faithful ; when Adara was not engaged to fide- lity, from a regard to his own and the finm happiness of all his posterity ; he seems to be just as wise as the mariner, who persuades himself, that though a thou- sand anchors could not secure the ship in a storm, yet one might have done it effectually. DIALOGUE V. 197 consider the case impartially. If it is not a real truth, I sh;ill be as willing to relin- quish it as yourself. Is not death, eternal death, the wages of every sin ? And if of every sin, then doubtless of original, which is the fountain from whence all thterea emphasis siiifn^ilaris in voce nobis. SigniScat id, quod omncs sentiunt, nos- tro bono et commodo natum esse hunc Pucrum Im- l>eratorciii"— Vitrins. inloc. DIALOGUE V. 203 cessity of obeying, in order to procure cither honour or happiness for himself. But all that he performed in conformity to the preceptive part of the law, he perform- ed under the character of a public person, in the place and for the benefit of his spiri- tual seed, that they might be interested in it, and justified by it. Ther. Be it so ; the believer is interested in Christ's righteousness. Pray, is lie in- terested in all, or only in part ? If in all, then every believer is equally righteous, and equally to be rewarded ; which is contrarj' to an allowed maxim, that there will be dif- ferent allotments of happiness in the hea- venly world. If in part only, how will you ascertain the degree — what proportion be- longs to this person, and what to the other ? Either way, your scheme is inextricably em- barrassed. Asp. The reply to my Theron's inquiry- is easy ; and the embarrassment he men- tions is but imaginary. Eveiy true believer is interested in all Christ's righteousness — in the whole merit of his spotless nature, of bis perfect obedience, and ex]iiatory death. Less than the whole would be unavail- able. Whereas the whole renders us com- pletely justified. You are a great admirer of anatomy, Theron, and must undoubtedly remember the very peculiar structure of the ear. Other parts of the body are progressive in their growth : their bulk is proportioned to the infantile or manly age. But the organs of hearing, I have been informed, are precisely of the same size, in the feeble infant and the confirmed adidt. Justification likewise, being absolutely necessary to a state of ac- ceptance with God, is in every stage of the Christian coiu'se, and even in the first A&vm of sincere faith, complete. With regard to the existence of the privilege, there is no diff"erence in the babes, the young men, the fathers in Christ.* The perception, the assurance, the comfortable enjoyment of the mercy, may increase ; but the mercy itself is incapable of augmentation. The various advances in sanctification account for the various degrees of future glorj' ; and not account for them only, but render them entirely reasonable, and, accord- ing to our apprehension of things, unavoid- able. As to settling the proportion, we may safely leave that to the supreme Arbitrator. He, " who meteth out the * To the same purpose speaks one of our most cele- brated divines ; as great an adept in sacred literature as a^es have produced. — "All are justified alike; the truth of faith justifying, not the measure. Justifica- tion therefore is the same in all that believe; though their belief be in different degrees. So, once in the wilderness, all gathered not manna in the same mea- sure, yet whenallcametomeasure,they had all alike; none above an omer, none under." Light/oot, vol. ii. p. 1052. heavens with a span, and setteth a compass upon the face of the deep," cannot be at a loss to adjust this particular. Ther. The organs of hearing, though not precisely, are very nearly, of the same bidk in the babe and the man. They acquire, from advancing years, scarce any thing more than an increase of solidity. So that I make no objection to your illustration, but to your doctrine. If Christ has done all, and we are en- titled to his whole merits oidy by believing — to be saved must be the easiest thing in the world : whereas the Bible represents Christianity as a race and a warfare, a state of conflict and a course of striving. In good tnith, Aspasio, you prophesy pleasing things. Divinity is not your profession, or else I should number you among " the smooth emollient downy doctors." For, according to the articles of your creed, there is no more diificulty in securing heaven, than in rising from oiu: seat. Asp. A speculative assent to all the princi- ples of religion, is, I acknowledge, a very easy matter. It may, it must exist, \A'herever there is a tolerable capacity for reasoning, and a due attention to evidence. This no- tional faith forced its way into the breast of Simon the sorcerer, (Acts viii. 13,) and ex- torted a confession from the dying lips of Ju- lian* the apostate. Irresistible as the stroke of lightning, terrible also as its fiery glare, it flashes conviction into the very devils. Even those execrable spirits, "believe and tremble." (James ii. 19.) But the faith which, far from resting in speculation, exalts the desires, regulates the passions, and refines the whole conversa- tion ; the faith which, according to the ex- pressive language of Scripture, " purifies the heart, overcomes the world, and sets the affections on things above ;" — this truly noble and triumphant faith is no such easy acquisition. This is the gift of an infinite Benefactor, the \\x)rk of a divine Agent ; called therefore by way of super-eminent distinction, " faith of the operation of God," (Col. ii. 1"2,) because God himself, by the effectual working of his mighty power, pro- duces it in the human soid. The exercise of this fiiith I would not compai'e to an active gentleman rising from his seat, but rather to a shipwTecked mari- ner, labouring to gain some place of safety. He espies a large rock which rears its head above the boisterous flood. To this he bears a\vay, and to this he approaches ; but wliii-l^ ing winds and dashing waves drive him back * It is related in ecclesiastical history, that the Era- peror Julian, that royal but wretched apostate, in an engagement with the Parthians, wasmortally wound- ed; and that he cried, with his expiring breath, " Vi- cisti.OGaliUce!"— I am vnnquished.O Galilean; thy right hand halh the prs^-emineuce ! 204 THERON AND ASPASIO. to an unhappy distance. Exerting all his strength, he advances nearer still, and at- tempts to climb the desirable eminence, when a sweeping surge interposes, and di'encbes him again in the rolling deep. By determined efforts, he recovers the space he had lost. Now he fastens on the cliff, and has almost escaped the danger. But there is such a numbness in his limbs that he can- not maintain his hold, and such an impetu- ous swell in the ocean that he is once more dislodged, and plunged afresh into the rag- ing billows. What can he do ? His life, his precious life is at stake- He must re- new, still renew, and never intermit his en- deavours. Neither let him abandon him- self to despair. The Master sees him amidst all his fruitless toil. Let him cry earnestly, "Lord save me, I perish!" and he who comniandeth the winds and the waves \\ill be siu-e to put forth his benefi- cent hand, and rescue him from the devour- ing sea. Such, my friend, so painful, so assiduous are the struggles of faith, before it can rest in peaceful security on the " Rock of Ages, Christ Jesus." Of this you may, some time or other, be assured, not only from my lips, but from your own experience. Tfier. What may happen in some future period of time, is beyond my power to fore- see. At present, I am apt to think, we must put a stop to the theological lecture. Do you not remember our engagement with Altinous? and you will owni, that punctuali- ty in performing our promises is at least a moral virtue, if it be not a Christian grace. DIALOGUE VL AspASio's affairs called him to London. He staid in town a few days ; but as soon as business was finished, he quitted the city, and hastened to his friend's coun- try-seat. Upon his arrival, he found some agreeable company, that came to spend the evening with the family. This incident prevented the immediate prosecution of their subject. As the next morning proved misty, and unfit for walking abroad, The- ron invited Aspasio to pass an hour in his study. It was situated at the extremity of a large gallery, H-liich, while it conducted the feet to a repository of learning, interposed between the ear, and all tlie disturbance of domestic affairs; so that you are accommo- dated with every thing that may regale a studious mind ; and incommoded with no- thing that may interrupt a sedate attention. Aspasio readily consented to the proposal ; but desired liist to take a turn in this beau- tiful oblong, and divert himself with the decorations of the place. Asp. A very short survey, Theron, is sufficient to discover the correctness of your judgment, and the true delicacy of your taste. Here are no impertinent and frivolous ex- hibitions of romantic tales or poetic stories. Here are no indecent pieces of imagery, that tend to corrupt a chaste, or inflame a wan- ton fancy. On the contrary, I am present- ed with a collection of maps, accurately drawn by the most able hands ; and with several remarkable transactions of anjquity, most eloquently told in the language of the pencil. You have happily hit that grand point, which the gentleman of refinement, as well as the author of genius, should ever keep in view — the union of the beneficial with the delightful. T/ier. Indeed, my Aspasio, I have often been disappointed, sometimes even shocked, in the gardens, the porticos, and the walks of some modern virtuosi Their portraits and statues ai'e little else but an assembbige of elaborate trifles. Ixion stretched u])on the wheel, or Phaeton precipitated from the chariot. Apollo stringing his lyre, or Ju- piter (I beg his supreme liighness' pardon, for not giving him the precedence in my catalogue) bestriding his eagle and balancing his bolts. Pray, where is the advantage of being introduced to this fabulous tribe of gentry ? What noble idea can they awaken, or what valuable impression leave upon the mind ? The best we can say of such perform- ances is, that they are limning and sculp- ture expensively thrown away. This celebrated trumpery one can bear with however. But when the painting and sculpture, instead of cultivating virtue, and impro\ang oiu" niorals, are calculated to be the very bane of both — wiU you call this an elegant entertainment? No : it is a nuisance ; it is a pest. In the statues, I grant, every dimple sinks, and every muscle swells, with the exactest propriety. The countenance is animated with life, and the limbs are ready to start into motion. The picture, I am sensible, is as highly finished as the efhgy : the distributions of light and shade most artfully adjusted; the dimiiuitions of the perspective true to a nicety ; nor can any thing exceed the easy flow of the robe, unless it be the graceful attitude, and al- most speaking aspect, of the principal figure. But is this masterly execution an equiva- lent for the most malignant effects ? for sullying the purity of my fancy, and poison- ing the powers of my imagination ? Is it an indication of the o\ATier's judi- cious taste, to prefer regularity of features in the hammered l)lock, before orderly and harmonious affections in his own breast? Does it bes])eak a refined disposition, or a benevolent tenij>er, to be so extravagantly DIALOGUE VI. 203 enamoured with the touches of a lascivious pencil, as to expose them in the most fre- quented passages, and obtrude them on every unwary guest ? Surely, this can create no very advantageous opinion of a gentleman's intellectiial discernment ; much less can it raise an amiable idea of his moral charac- ter.* On such occasions I am strongly tempted to suspect that real honour is a stranger where common deeencyf is want- ing. As for the artist, one can hardly forbear execrating his hateful folly, who could pros- titute such fine talents to such infamous purposes. Detested be the chisel that teaches, though with inimitable dexterity, the cold obdurate marble, to enkindle dis- solute affections. Abhorred be the pencil that makes no other use of the most lovely colours, than to pollute the canvass, and in- snare the spectator. It is argued, I know, that many of those pieces are the completest models extant. An everlasting reproach this to the art; but no apology for the performances ; since the more nicely they are executed, the more mischievous^ is their influence. It strikes the surer, and sinks the deeper. It di-esses destruction gay, and paves with beauty the way to ruin. * It is a pity, but the advice of Cicero, that great 'master of eleg;mt taste and polite manners, was re- ceived as a standard of regulation by all our connois- seurs in the fine arts : "In primis jjrovideat, ne or- namenta a?dium atque hortorum vitiura aliquod in- diceut inesse moribus." — De Offic. t A gentleman observing some gross indelicacies of this kind at the seat of a person of distinction, very acutely (and, I believe, too justly) said, ' His paint- ings are the gibbet of his name." J I hope it will not be thought improper, I wish it was entirely needless, to animadvert upon a practice, which is not only a reproach to our Christian profes- sion, but an insult upon national decorum— the prac- tice of exposing to public view, and offering to pub- lic sale, such shameful prints, as are fitted only to create licentious desires and cherish the most profli- gate dispositions. ^uch spectacles are a species of the rankest poison. And can the poison be less pernicious, because it is received at the eye, instead of passing through the lips ? Because it tends more immediately to debauch the morals, and but remotely to destroy the constitu- tion ? No wonder so many of our youths are corrupt- ed, and so many robberies committed,whiIesuch scenes of pictured lewdness are suftered to inflame them with lust, and habituate ihem to impudence. Another very indecent custom has unaccountably Btole its way into several performances of genius and elegance. The custom, 1 mean of representing the muses, the graces, and other romantic personages in the form ot beautiful ladies, partly, if not entirely, naked. It is true, here are no loose adventures ; no immodest gestures, nay more, he artist expresses his own and consults your modesty,by presenting you with a position in profile, by the intervention of a foliage, or the lappet of a robe. But let me ask the ingenious operator, if he would choose to introduce his wife or his daughter, in such a manner, to public company ? Is he startled at the question ? is he shocked at the thought; Then let him reflect, and let others consider, whether that can be graceful or allowable in a picture, which would be brutal and unsuft'erable in common life. Socrates (wlio, before his application to philo- sophy, practised as a statuary) could not but blush at this abuse of his art : and, being to form a repre- sentation of the graces, he represented them properly habited. It is my chief ambition, Aspasio, to have all my decorations so circumstanced, that the beholder may learn some valuable lesson rn morality, or be reminded of some import- ant event in history, — may find, even in the scenes of his amusement, something to es- tablish his virtue, or enlarge his know- ledge. I frequently entertain my eldest son, who is reading the Greek and Latin historians, with an explanation of my principal draw- ings, that he may behold in colouring, what he has penised in narrative. — At this in- stant, the youth happened to make his ap- pearance, paying his respects to Aspasio, and dutifully saluting his father. It just recurs to my memoiy, said Theron, that some necessary affairs of the family require my attendance tor a few mhmtes. Will you excuse my absence, good Aspasio ; and permit my son to supply my place. You will very much oblige me by leav- ing me such a companion — And come, my dear Sir, addressing himself to Eugenio, as I know you are a lover of learning, what think you of diverting oiu-selves with these agreeable books ? which give us their in- structive lessons, not in puzzling languages, but in pleasing colours. Eugenio spoke his consent, and expressed his modesty, by a becoming blush, wliile Aspasio proceed- ed Asp. This is a striking picture indeed : Hills piled on hills form a most astonishing prospect. What horrible magnificence reigns amidst those wild and shaggy rocks ! Na- ture seems to have designed them for the boundaries of the world. Yet those daring troops are attempting to pass the prodigious barrier : Who are they, Eugenio ; and whom shall we call their leader ? Euy. This, Sir, is the famous Hannibal, heading and encouraging his army in the passage of the Alps. The sons of Africa seem to shiver with cold, as they traverse those frozen regions, and march among the clouds. Asp. It is the very same. Some, you observe, climb with excessive toil, the steep and craggy cliffs. Others, with far greater difficulty, descend through dreadful declivi- ties of ice, exposed aU the while to the ar- rows of the mountaineers. Some, endea- vouring to avoid the showers of steel, slip \\'iththeii- feet, and tumble headlong down the vast projecting promontories. See from what a height they are falling ! carriages and their drivers, the horse and his rider, and at what a distance still from the stony abyss below ! Some lie wiih closed eyelids and ghastly features, dashed to death at the very bottom. Others, writhing with the torture of mangled limbs and broken bones, lift up an agonizing look to their comrades. Their comrades, insensible of a brother's misery, and wholly 206 THERON AND ASPASIO. intent upon their own preservation, hang frightfully suspended on the edges of the precipice. The precipice seems to tot- ter as they cling ; and the alarmed specta- tor expects every moment a hideous down- fall. Are you not startled at the view, Eugenio, and in pain for the hardy adven- turers ? JEvg. I am, Sir. And I wonder how they will extricate themselves from these peril- ous circumstances. I have read in Livy, that they cut their way through the rocks, after they had softened them with vinegar. But is this probable ? how could they pro- cure a sufficient quantity amidst those deso- late mountains ? Asp. I believe their resolution and their perseverance were the \'inegar. These open a road through rocks. These, under the conduct of prudence, and the favour of hea- ven,* surmount all obstacles. Influenced by these, the survivors press boldly on, and are determined to vanquish the horrors of nature, as a prelude to their victory over the forces of Rome. Let these, resolution andperserN'ance'Imean,bethe companions of my Eugenie's youthful studies, and they will enable him also to conquer difficulties — even all the difficulties which lie in his way to true religion and sound learning. What is our next draught ! At each end we have a group of living figures. All the inter- mediate space is an extensive tract of land, diversified only by rapid rivers, horrid de- serts, and mountainous, ridges ; with here and there a few savage natives in uncouth dresses, and formidable arms. It is more like a map than a picture ; and the most remarkable beauty is the aerial perspective ; which puts a very agreeable cheat upon our eyes ; causing us to behold on an ell of can- vass the space of many hundreds of miles. Eug. This represents the retreat of the ten thousand Greeks. First we behold them in the plains of Media ; at an immense distance from their native coimtry ; without * Under the favour of heaven. I cannot but wish that the relator of Lord Anson's voyage round the world had anticipated Aspasio's remarli; had made some grateful acknowledgments to an interposing Providence, in that masculine, nervous, noble narra- tive: A narrative of such sipial deliverances, so cri- tically timed, and so surprisingly circumstanced, as in the course cf one expedition, are scarcely to be par- alleled. I am persuaded, it would have been no disparage- ment of the great commander, and his gallant offi- cers, to have it thankfully recognised, on some very unexpected, yet most advantageous turn of aSairs, "this hath God done!" Neither could it have de- tracted from the merit of the brave sailors, to have confessed, on many hazardous emergencies, that all their resolution, all their address, and the exertion of their utmost abilities, had been only lost labour, without the remarkable co-operation of divine good- ness. And I am apprehensive, that it must consider- ably diminish the clelight of many readers, to observe the blessed author of all these mercies passed by un- noticed, unacknowledged, and without any share of the praise. The sarcasm on Pope Adrian and his exploits, I fear, would be too proper on this occasion, Hie Deus nihil fecit. guides ; without provision ; and, what is thd! most desperate calamity of all, deprived of their ablest officers by treacheiy and murder. Well may they look dejected ! How have I pitied them as I read their story ? abhor- red the perfidy of their enemies ; and wish- ed them all success in their hazardous en- terprise ! Asp. Do not you perceive their drooping spirits begin to revive, and some gleam of hope diffuses itself through their counten- ances, while they listen to the eloquent Xenophon, who stands conspicuous in the midst, haranguing his soldiers, and rousing their courage. But, ah ! what a vast ex* tent of unkno\vn climes must they traverse, with a numerous and victorious army har- assing them in flank, or hanging upon their rear? What fatigues must they sustain, what hardships endure, before they arrive at their wished-for home ! — Fired by the enchanting name, and animated by their brave philosophic leader, they resolve to push their way through all the extremes of peril and of pain. To scatter, with their little band, the encircling millions of bar- barians, is the smallest of their achieve- ments. They cross i-ivers, they scale rocks, whose slippery banks, and craggy summits, are Ihied with opposing nations. They wade tlu'ough deserts of snow ; and pass over inhospitable mountains, the far more dreaded abodes of desolation, drought and famine. They encounter the keenness of the northein storm, and aU the rigour of the most malignant seasons. As some of these articles are incapable of being expressed by the pencil, the artist remits us to the his- torian, and has contented himself with marking out the most distinguished stages of this memorable expedition. Only we view the courageous itinerants, once again, on a pretty lofty eminence. There they appear, not with their former dejection, but in all the transports of joy. Eng. This, Sir, is the mountain Tecqua, from whence they had the first view of the sea, and the first dawn of safety. There they embrace one another, and extol their commanders, especially the noble Xeno- phon, whose history gives me great delight, and his manly yet benign aspect strangely attracts my esteem. Methinks, imder such a general, I could have been willing to take my share in all the toil and all the hazards of the expedition. Asp. Would my Eugenio ? Then I will list him under a Captain unspeakably more accomplished and beneficent. Young as you are, you shall, from this hour commence a soldier and a traveller ; — a soldier, to fight against sin, and every temptation — a tra- veller, to pass through the wilderness of this world, unto the land of everlasting rest. .Though your enemies may be numerou-, DIALOGUE VI. 207 and your journey tedious, yet faint not, neither be discouraged. The Lord of hea- ven is your guide, and heaven itself shall be your exceeding great reward. When you arrive at those hapjiy abodes, your de- light will infinitely surpass all that the Grecians felt on Tecqiia, when their ra- vished eyes beheld, and their tongues -with ecstasy shouted, " the sea ! the sea !" The scene of yonder picture, I would venture to affirm, lies among the ancient Jews. Eng. How can you tell this. Sir, at such a distance ? Asp. By " the fringes in the borders of their garments, and on each fringe a riband of blue." God Almighty commanded all the Jews to observe this peculiarity in their habit,* that their very clothes, being differ- ent from the apparel of their heathen neigh- bours, might admonish them not to be con- formed to their idolatrous worship and li- centious manners. This, as well as eveiy other divine command, our Lord Jesus Christ most exactly obeyed. Therefore we are told by the evangelical historian, that the diseased woman, " who touched but the hem of his garment, was restored to health." Hem it is in our English bibles ; but, if you consult that most excellent of all books, the Greek Testament, you will find, that the original word might more pro- perly he rendered /n«(7e.f However, let us pass from the drapery to the design. Eug. Here we see David in one of the most threatening exigencies of his whole life. Saul, more like a blood-hound than a king, pursues the best of sons, and the most valuable of subjects. He has extend- ed the wings of his veiy superior army, in order to surroundf the injured hero and his handful of associates. » One would wonder how the Jews can so tenaci- ously adhere to their law, and yet so apparently ne- glect its precepts. Wheie are the sons of Abraham, who observe this express and positive command of Jehovah ! Though this indeed might be obeyed, yet many of the Mosaical injunctions are rendered, and by nothing less than the dispensations of Providence, absolutely impracticable. Is not this, therefore, a most incontestible proof^a proof, not invented by the arts of sophistry, but written by the finger of the Almighty himself^that the legal ordinances are abol- ished, in order to make way for a better dispensa- tion ? When the avenues are become inaccessible, the house untenantable, and the principal apartments ir- reparably decayed ; is not this the most cogent ad- monition to the inhabitants, that they betake them- selves to some new and more commodious residence ? See Numb. xv. 38. t Matt. ix. 20. K.^a'T^t'Sov. t To this, or some such incident, may. be applied a passage of the Psalms, which, in our translation, is very obscure; has scarce any sense, or if any, a very unjustifiable one. " Wherefore should I fear in the days of evil, when the wickedness of my heels com- passeth me round about ?" Psalm xlix. 5. Where- fore ! The reason is very apparent : When wickedness cleaves to a person's heels, or habitually attends his goings, it raises an army of terrors; it unsheaths the sword of divine vengeance, and levels at his guilty head everv threatening in the book of God. Surely then another translation should be given to Asp. This is the most animated, and I think the most masterly perfonnance, that has hitherto come under our notice. Con- stemation and doubt agitate their looks. Shall they surrender themselves, as so many tame victims, to a tyraiit's fury ; or shall they cut thek way to safety, through the hearts of coimtiymen, friends, and brothers? Dreadfid dilemma ! While they are debat- ing, the pursuers are closing upon them. A few, a few minutes more, must decide their fate. But who is the person that in- tervenes, just at this critical juncture ? Eug. It is a messenger from the princi- pal inhabitants of Judea. He comes breath . less and trembling, amazement in his face, and dust upon his head. " An invasion !'" he cries, " an invasion ! The Philistines have poiu-ed themselves upon our frontiers ! The Philistines are overrunning the land !"• Asp. Upon the receipt of this news, see what vexation reddens in the disap- pointed monarch's aspect ! What anger lightens in his eye ! At the same time, what pale reflections on his country's dan- ger mingle themselves with the fiery pas- sions, and almost quench the flame enkind- ling in his cheeks. Shall the vulture re- linquish his prey, even when it lies fluttering under his talons ? Galling thought ! But his kingdom is at stake. If he does not immediately advance to repel the enemy, his all, his all is lost. Bm-ning therefore with indignation, yet chilled with fear, he turns, hasty though reluctant, away. Are you not charmed, Eugenio, with tliis de- scription of tumidtuous and contrary pas- sions, which afl!brd the finest subject for historic painting, and are so happily ex- pressed in this piece ? Eug. Indeed, Sir, I am shocked, rather than charmed. The very looks of that re- vengefiil monarch fill me with horror. What must he suffer in his mind, who dis covers such rage and anguish in his features ! I would not have his furious temper, for all his royal power. Asp. Then, my dear Eugenio, you must endeavour to suppress every emotion of the words, and a different turn to the sense ! And another translation the words will bear; a different sense the connexion demands : " Wherefore should I fear, when wickedness compasseth me about at my heels?" This is a fine spirited interrogation. This implies a great and edifying truth. From this also the verse appears, not only with propriety, but with beauty. When wickedness, or the malicious attempts of wicked men — compass me about, surround me, threaten me on every side — nay, when they are at my very heels, just upon the point to seize, overwhelm and crush me, so that the danger seems both inevitable and imminent; yet even then, having God's almighty power and inviolable faithfulness for my protection, wherefore should I be alarmed ? alanmed f No ; con- fiding in such ii safeguard, I will bid defiance to my enemies, and bid adieu to my fears. * This event is related 1 .Sam. xxiii. 25, &c. And it is one of the most extraordinary instances of a di- vine interposal, at the very crisis of need, that any history has recorded. '208 THERON AND ASPASIO. envy and malevolence. You must cherish a cordial good-will to all men ; and learn to i-ejoice in their excellencies and happiness, as well as in your own. Envy is the worm that gnaws, envy is the fury that embroils his wretched heart. And an author, with whom you will ere long be acquainted, has assured us, Invidia Siculi non invenere tyranni Tormentum majus.— Hor. The next is a kind of night-piece. Stars are in the sky, and the new moon rides on the skirts of the hemisphere ; which affords just light enough to distinguish objects. This is a perfect contrast to the foregoing: We see no conflict of jarring passions ; but the principal person appears sedate and composed, as the night that surrounds him. He stands on the bank of a river, thought- ful and attentive, as though he was ponder- ing or executing some imj)ortant project. Eiig. This is Cyrus the Great. He stands upon the banks of the Euplirates, not far from Babylon. He points with his sceptre, and is giving directions to his army. The directions are, to pass through the channel of the river (which is drained of its water) in order to sui-prise the city. Asp. This is a prince of very superior dignity, the honoured instrument of execut- ing Jehovah's counsels. He was foretold by the prophet Isaiah, and even mentioned by joanie, more than two hundred years be- fore his bu-th. { Isaiah xUv. 28 ; xlv. I . ) Let us wish him prosperity ; for he goes to humble the pride of Babylon, and release the captivity of Israel. See with what re- gular movements and what calm alacrity his troops advance ! Silence seems to es- cort them, while, under covert of the shades, and with Providence at their head, they march along a road never before trodden by the foot of man. The soldiers of the garrison have abandoned their station on the wall, to join in the dissolute indulgence of this fatal night. The inhabitants, like many a heedless sinner, are lulled in indo- lence,.and dreaming of pleasures, even on the veiy brink of ruin. Eug. Why are those brazen gates which lead to the river, placed in such a distin- guished point of view ? They strike my eye more, I think, than all the monuments of art and grandeur, which adorn that superb city. And let me farther ask, whether the painter has not offended against probability, in suffering them to stand wide open ? On approach of so formidable an adversary, I should expect to have found them shut with all possible security. Asp. In this particular, the painter has showed his judgment, and not forgotten his piety. God had devoted that haughty and oppressive metropolis to destniction. And you will perceive, from this circumstance, how wonderfully he ovemiles all events for the accomplishment of his sacred i)ur- pose. Had those ponderous gates been shut,* the city had continued impregnable, and the whole enterprise been defeated. But, through some accidental forgetfulness, occasioned by the disorders of this riotous solemnity, or rather by a very signal inter- position of divine vengeance, they are left open, and afford an easy entrance to slaugh- ter and death, which rush upon the unhappy creatures all sunk in sleep, or overcharged with wine, as a concealed snare in some dreadful unexpected moment springs up, and inextricably entangles the unwary bird. Was I to inscribe this picture with a motto, I would choose the apostle's admonition, " be sober ; be ^^gilant." Who is this, \vith his length of hairf flowing upon his shoulders, with such ampli- tude of personage, such magnificence of mein, and noble plainness of habit? Eug. This is my favourite piece. My father sometimes shows me the heads of the philosophers ; but there is something so uninviting and severe in Socrates and Diogenes, that I could never much admire them. But this, Sir, is Scipio ; the thun- derbolt of war, as Virgil calls him. Here is something so lovely and engaging, as well as grand and majestic, that I am never weary of looking on him. Asp. He appears M'ith a lady of distin- guished beauty in his hand. Eug. This is the captive princess, who had been taken in war, who was set apart for the General's prize, but whom he is now restoring to her espoused husband. Asp. You are right, Eugenio. He has just led in his lovely captive, attended by her husband and parents, amidst a full as- sembly of Romans and Ccltiberians, the victors and the vanquished. His modest eyes, you observe, are rather turned from, than gazing upon the blooming virgin. Cannot you suppose, how the spectators must be affected, upon the opening of this extraordinary scene ? Every one beholds the hero with admiration, the lady with de- light. Every bosom is big with expectation * See this very momentous, though seemingly in- considerable circumstance, finely illustrated by Mr. Rollin, and compared with a remarkable prophecy in Isaiah, Ancient Hist. vol. ii. p. 144, &c. A work, in which the most entertaining and instructive events of antiquity are regularly digested, elegantly related, and. stripped of those minuter incidents, which make the story move slow, and are apt to fatigue the attention. t I believe it was not customary with the Romans, especially their warriors, to have long flowing hair. This, therefore, might seem an offence against what the I talians call il costume, if the painter was not sup- ported by the authority of Livy ; who, in his descrip- tive picture of Scipio, gives us the following touches : '• Species corporis ampla ac magnifica. Prseterquam quod suaptenatura niulta majestas inerat, adornabat promissa Caisaries, habitusque corjioris, non cultus munditiis, sed virilii vere ac militaris.— Lib. xiviii. c. ;!J. DIALOGUE VI. 209 or in pain for the event. After a short pause, he addresses himself to the lover, in words to tliis effect : " I am no stranger to your interest in this fine woman : The for- tune of wai- has put her entirely into my power. The circumstance of my youth cannot render me insensijjle to so engaging a person : But with us Romans, honour and generosity have a more prevailing influence than transitoiy gratifications. Take your bride ; be happy in each other ; and when you look upon this gift, admii'e the Ro- mans, be a friend to Rome." Upon this he delivers her (as you behold the action here represented) to the enamoured prince. — See how the crowds, that cluster and hang around, are struck with the beneficent deed ! In the Celtiberians, we behold a mixtiu"e of veneration and surprise. Their looks are full of meaning. Methinks they are going to cry out, " excellent man !" In the Romans, we discern a conscious supe- riority, and exultation of mind. Triumph is in their features, as though they would say, " this wondrous man is ours. " In the lady, we admire the accomplished and modest fair, uniting all the dignity of her birth with all the delicacy of her sex. What soft confusion and what tender joy appear in her countenance ! She is lost in wonder, and at a loss for words : she speaks the acknow- ledgments of her heart by the silent elo- quence of a tear, which steals down her glowing cheek to bedew the kind hand that has protected her innocence, and is deliver- ing her to her lord. Her lord is under an apparent and a graceful struggle of love and gratitude : He doats upon his charming princess, and he almost adores his generous benefactor. We can hardly tell whether he is going to clasp the former in his arms, or throw himself at the feet of the latter. The aged parents express their transport in a different manner. Theii' knees are bent to the earth ; their eyes are lifted up to heaven ; they implore for their noble guard- ian, every blessing that the gods can be- stow. Scipio himself displays all the mag- nanimity of the conqueror, tempered M'ith the sedateness of the philosopher, and soft- ened with the gentleness of the friend. He gives happiness ; but he enjoys a greater. His eyes sparkle with a sublime delight ; and he seems to anticipate the applause, which this truly heroic act will gain in all countries and in all ages. Eug. Is not this a greater victory than any that he had won in the field of battle ; and a nobler triumph than any that could be voted him by the applauding senate ! Ami- able Scipio ! Might I be a Roman, I would be no other than Scipio. Asp. I ^^^sll you, my dear Sir, the tem- perance and generosity of Scipio ; but from a better motive than his. He, I fear. was too much swayed by a spirit of am- bition,which you must endeavour to suppress rather than cherish. A spirit of ambition which pants after distinction, and thirsts for applause, is diametrically opposite to the genius of the gospel, (Gal. v. 26.) It is a lesson which must infallibly be unlearned, if ever we become possessors of faith, oi partakers of Christ, (John v. 44.) It is " a root of bitterness," which naturally produces envy, (Gal. v. 26.) that most odious, and (as you have just now seen) most self-tor- menting of all tempers. It is a habit of mind, which generally renders men incen- diaries in the chm'ch, and disturbers of its tranquillity, (3 John 9,10.) It is, there- fore, more like an inchanted potion which inebriates, than a genuine cordial which animates. Eug. From what motive then would you encourage me to be diligent in the pursuit of learning, and in the cultivation of eveiy virtue ? Asp. Not, that you may acquire the poor, contemptible, perishing honour, which Cometh from men ; — but that you may please God, your Almighty Creator ; that you may glorify Christ, your infinitely condescending Redeemer ; that you may yourself attain what is the tnie dignity and only felicity of your nature ; and may be serviceable to the best interests of your fellow-creatures — even their present holiness and their eternal hap- piness. These are the grand and endearing en- couragements which our holy religion pur- poses. These will operate, I am bold to aver, with a much sweeter and a far more so- vereign efficacy, than all the glittenng en- ticements which ambition can devise : and, what is above all other considerations weighty, these will be more likely, or rather these will be very certain, to receive the divine blessing. You told me you was never weary of contemplating Scipio. For which reason I promise myself, you wiU not be fatigued or displeased though I have so long confined your attention to this i)ortrait. But have we no hero of Britain, fit to join this illus- trious triumvirate from Rome, Persia, and Judea ? Eug. The very next we meet is one of our English kings. But I cannot say that I remember either his name or his story. Asp. How, my young gentleman ! Do you read the annals of other nations, and not ac- qiuiint yom'self with the affairs of your own country ? If I was in your place, I would apply myself to the classical writers by way of study, and to some valuable English histo- rian by way of amusement. Such an amuse- ment is infinitely preferable to novels or romances, and will not only relax your at- tention, but enrich 3'our mind. 210 THERON AND ASPASIO. Eug. I thank you, good Sir, for your ad- monition, and, if you please, I will now be- gin the study you recommend. Your ex- planation of these drawings shall be the ru- diments of my knowledge, and I shall think it a happiness to receive my first instruc- tions from so able a master. Asp. It is honour enough for me, Eugenio, to have given you the hint. I only point out yourgame, or spring the covey ; you shall be taught by a more expert proficient, to make it your own. Yet, though others may di- rect you with greater skill, none will rejoice in your successful pursuit, more sincerely than myself. This is our renowned Henry the Fifth, as he appeared after the victory of Agincourt. You see the gallant conqueror clad in steel, and recent from the slaughter of the insult- ing foe. He seems to breathe an heroic ardour, which is irradiated and exalted by a lively devotion. If courage can be expressed by the pencil, this is its genuine likeness ; keen, yet composed ; grasping the sword, yet looking up to heaven. He that a little while ago drove the battle, like a whirlwind, on the legions of France, now bends a sup- pliant knee, and oflfers the eucharistic hymn to the Lord God of Hosts. No turbulent or disorderly joy riots among the soldiery. They express not the triumph of their hearts in frantic exultations or drunken revels, but in acts of thanksgiving to Jehovah : in an attitude which speaks the devout ac- Knowledgment of the prophet, " Thou art our battle-axe and weapons of war," ( Jer. li. 20.) or the grateful declaration of the Psalmist, " Not unto us, O Lord, not unto us, but unto thy name be the gloiy," (Psal. cxv. 1.) This last instance informs my Eugenio, that prayer is an honourable employ ; has been practised by persons of the most ad- mired endowments ; is the surest method of obtaining success in whatever business we undertake, and of enjoying prosperity, in whatever circumstances we are placed. The next piece is diflferent from all the preceding. In those, armies with their banners displayed, ships of war riding at an- chor, battering engines, and instruments of death, form the perspective- In this, we have all around, a lovely and rural landscape, expressive of peace, and enriched with plenty. Com and cattle in the valleys, fruit- ful vineyards on the hills, and beautiful gar- dens surrounding the houses. But who is that graceful and august personage, seated on a stately throne of ivory and gold ? Eug. This is Solomon, having an inter- view with the Queen of Sheba. A large train of her attendants throng the avenues of the palace ; some leading foreign ani- mals ; some bearing vases and caskets ; all arrayed in strange apparel. The Israelites stare upon their outlandish visitants, thdr costly presents, and peculiar habits. Their visitants are as much siu-prised at the walls, the towers, and especially the temple of Je- rusalem. But you, Sii', I apprehend, are most pleased with the venerable person who fills the throne. Asp. Indeed I am ; and so his royal guest. You observe in her robe, her retinue, her deportment, an unpolished kind of grandeur. But all in Solomon is so splendid, and at the same time so elegant ; displays such a delicacy of taste and such a magnificence of spirit, that the Sabean princess is perfectly in raptures. See how she stands fixed and gazing with speechless admiration,* like one lost in astonishment and transported with delight ! Her looks speak what, when she recovers the power of utterance, her tongue expresses : " It was a trae report, that I heard in my OAvn land, of thy acts, and of thy wisdom. Howbeit, I believed not the words, until I came, and mine eyes had seen, and behold, the half was not told me ; thy wisdom and prosperity exceed the fame which I heard." Eug. This is a great compliment. Is it right. Sir, to praise a man in such plain terms, and such high strains, to his very face ? I think I have heard Philenor blame such a practice, as inconsistent with refined manners ; and I have heard my father say, no one is a better judge of fine breeding than Philenor. And if the most agreeable behaviour, added to the most winning con- versation, are what you call fine breeding, I am sure Philenor is master of it to a very great degree. I love to be in his company, and am never better pleased than to hear him talk. Asp. The compliment is high, but it is just. It is strictly conformable to truth, and proceeds from the most miaffected sin- cerity. If we take what follows into con- sideration, we shall have a pattern of true politeness ; a propriety, and a refinement of address, far surpassing her Majesty's ex- ternal state ; " Happy are thy men ; happy are these thy servants, which stand con- tinually before thee, and that hear thy wis- dom. " Instead of envying, she congratulates the domestics of Solomon, and rejoices in their superior felicity. This is benevolence. " Blessed be the Lord thy God, which de- lighted in thee, to set thee on the throne of Israel. Because the Lord loved Israel for ever, therefore made he thee king, to do judgment and justice." — Here she ascribes all his royal virtues, and matchless accom- plishments, to the bounty of heaven. Though they are applauded in the person of Solomon, ♦ This, I apprehend, is the meaning of that remark- able strong expression used by the sacred historian ; " There w.is no more spirit in her," 1 Kings x. 5. DIALOGUE VI. 211 they are recognised as the free gift of God. This is piety. When the endowments we celebrate lead us to magnify, not their pos- sessor, but their author, then the poison is corrected, and turned into medicine. Praise thus circumstanced loses its malignity, and is rendered salubrious. It pleases ine to perceive that you take so much notice of the conversation which passes between your worthy father and his ingenious friends. I promise myself, you will also remember the maxim, which we have now learned from a queen — a queen, whom not only the sacred historian, but our Lord Jesus Christ himself vouchsafes to mention, and wnth marks of approbation ; whose name therefore will be had in ho- nour, when Semiramis and Cleopatra, the heroines and the beauties, are consigned over to oblivion. The maxim which I mean is this : There must be an union of sincerity, of benevolence, and of piety, in order to con- stitute true politeness. Whoever pretends to fine breeding, and is destitute of these qualities, is nothing more than a pretender. He bears just the same proportion to this ornamental character, as the ape and the monkey bear to the man. But we have not sufficiently examined our picture. The dome is of cedar, sup- ported by pillars of marble, to which are annexed curtains of silk and embroidery. The pillars shine with the most glossy po- lish, and swell upon the eye with the boldest projections. The curtains, pendent in large and easy folds, seem not adhesive to the canvass, but waving in the air. The throne is exquisitely contrived, richly ornamented, and highly finished. It is evident the pain- ter had in his eye that remarkable observa- tion of Scripture, " There was not the like made in any kingdom ;" and he has really done all whch art could devise, or colours execute, in order to exemplify the gi'eat en- comium. If the monarch was absent, we should desire no better entertainment than to view the beauties of the apartment ; but can hard- ly allow any attention to the edifice, when so graceful and so grand a presence bespeaks our regard. For I must own there appears to me something'peculiarly excellent in this figure ; a serenity and dignity, without any of that martial air which adds a tincture of ferocity to the warrior ; a sagacity and pe- netration not to be equalled by the wrinkles of age, yet transparent through all the bloom of youth. Piety and wisdom, the love of God and the grace of his Spirit, give an elevation to the mind, a sacred charm to the countenance, and something more than mor- tal to the whole man. I am apt to sus pect, Eugenio, that you yourself are ready to adopt a new favourite ; that you now prefer Solomon even to Scipio ; and had rather be like the " beloved of the Lord," than the darling of Rome. Eug. Every thing in Solomon is so ve- nerable and heavenly, that I am filled with awe, rather than fired with emulation. It is not for a boy to think of imitating such high perfection ! Asp. Why not, my dear Sir ? It was God who gave Solomon his superior wisdom and exalted accomplishments. And God is " the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever ;" as willing to hear, and as able to help you, as he was to hear and bless his servant Solomon. Neither let your youth be a discouragement. " Out of the mouth of very babes and sucklings, he ordaineth strength, and perfects praise. (Psalm viii. 2. ) Samuel ministered in the temple when he was but a child. (1 Sam. ii. 18.) Jo- siah, while he was yet young, began to seek after the God of his fathers. (2 Chron. xxxiv. 3.) Timothy was acquainted with the holy scriptures from his earliest years. (2 Tim. iii. 15.) And Solomon himself was none of the oldest, when he was fa- voured with that extraordinary vision, and made that admirable choice, at Gibeon. (1 Kings iii. 5, 6, &c.) a passage of scripture, which I dare say you have read, which I would recommend to your attentive consid- eration, and which I hope you will take for the model of your conduct. And if you, like that illustrious young prince, desire a wise and understanding heart, more than the affluence of wealth, or the distinctions of honour ; " if you seek %visdom as silver, and search for her as for hid treasure ; then shall you also understand the fear of the Lord, and find the knowledge of God." (Prov. ii. 4, 5.) The next that occurs, presents us with a view of the sea ; and a most tremendous view it is. Eug. This is the voyage related by the evangelist, when our Lord sailed with his disciples, and bid the storm be still, and made the ocean calm. Asp. Then we may truly say, " a greater than Solomon is here !" Give me leave to hint, upon this occasion, that every picture of Christ must necessarily depreciate his glorious person. Therefore you will never think, that a few rays beaming round his sacred head, can properly distinguish the Son of God, or express the grace of his offices, and the divinity of his natiu'e. It is not to display the perfections of the Lord Jesus himself, but only to give us an idea of one of his works, that the pencil has been employed on this grand subject. You will also remember, that it was not the main ocean, but the lake of Tiberias, on which they sailed. However, the painter is at liberty to make his sea as large as he pleases, and his storm as ter-rible as 212 he can. Accordingly he has collected all the horrors of a tempest. Lightnings fire the arch above ; and thunders, could thun- ders have been painted, would have rocked the ground below. Those flaming bolts have smitten a huge promontory, and tore its rugged bi'ow. See how the rocky fragment is tumbling, with impetuous bound from cliff to cliff ! The waters, lashed by furious winds, heave and toss their tumultuous billows : Here they rise in rolling ridges, there they rage in devouring whirls. Amidst these horrible commotions, you behold a vessel in all the extremity of distress : Straining under the blast, battered and half overwhelmed by the surge, she can no long- er maintain the unequal conflict ; she yields to the resistless flood ; and begins, evident- ly begins to siiJj. Perplexed, amazed, and at their wit's end, the disciples nm to and fro. They shift the tackling, lighten the stowage, tiy every expedient ; and find, to their inexpressible affliction, every expedi- ent ineffectual. We cast our eye forward, and their di- vine Master appears, sedately rising from a gentle slumber. He sees the perplexity and horror of his companions, without the least emotion of alarm. He sees destruc- tion approaching, heaven and earth mingling; and instead of being dismayed, enjoys the elemental war. What composure in his mien ! what dignity in liis attitude ! what majesty, sweetened with compassion, in his aspect ! such as could arise from no other cause, but a conscious and undoubted certainty that not one of the company should perish, not a hair of their head be injiu'ed ; and that all this mighty uproar of nature should end in a demonstration of his mightier power, and a confirmation of his disciples' faith. He looks abroad into the mutinous sky, and the turbulent deep : He waves, with an authoritative air, his sacred hand ; and adds the great commanding word, " Peac« ! be still." Do you inqiure after the effect ? Let Milton declare it : Confusion heard his voice, and wild uproar Stood ruled. This is expressed in another draught. Where all is hushed, the tremendous agi- tations cease, and the most profound tran- quillity takes place. The water is smooth as glass ; we have the picture of a per- fect calm, and view those \ery persons, who a little while ago, were in the wildest distraction, and in the jaws of I'uin, sur- roimding their Lord as men alive from the dead. Their consternation is tunied into wonder ; and their pangs of fear into ecs- tasies of joy. They acknowledge the om- nipotence, and adore the goodness of Jesus. Euy. Well may they ackno^\■ledge his omnipotence, since winds and waves obey him. Great reason have they to adore his THERON AND ASPASIO. goodness, since he rescued them from the very jaws of death — that M'orst of deaths, perishing in the stormy deep. Asp. If Jesus Christ had vouchsafed such a deliverance to my Eugenio, Avhat would he have thought, or how would he have been affected ? Eug. I should have thought myself inex- pressibly obliged, and that I could neve( show sufficient gratitude to so great a bene- factor. Asp. Assure yourself, then, my dear Sir, that he has done infinitely more for you : That he has delivered you, not indeed from being swallowed up by the raging billows, but from sinking into the pit of everlasting perdition -. That he has not only rescued you from endless destruction, but obtained eternal life and heavenly happiness for you. — This he has done, not by speaking a word, or issuing a command ; but by bear- ing your guilt, suffering yoiu- punishment, and dying the death, the most ignominious and tormenting death, in your stead. Should you not then unfeignedly love him ? study to please him ? and make it the reigning endeavour of your life to glorify him ? Here Theron returned, and the young student withdrew, after receiving some af- fectionate and encoiu'aging compliments from Aspasio, who was going to enlarge upon the excellent taste of his friend, the instructive style of his pictures, the good sense and great proficiency of his son : But Theron, far from coveting the praise, and fully satisfied with the consciousness of acting the becoming part, prevented his discourse by stepping to a pair of glass fold- ing doors, which, thrown open, admitted them into the study. A chimney-piece of grey marble, with plain, but bold and protuberant mouldings, formed a very handsome appearance. In various little niches were fixed elegant busts ; and on the several interstices hiuig beautiful prints, representing many of the most eminently learned men, who were tlie ornaments and blessings both of ancient and modem times. The shelves all around were accommodated, not encumbered, with books. Aspasio, running over the lettered backs, observed a collection of the most valuable authors in history and natural phi- losophy, in poetry and divinity. You will easily perceive, said Theron, that I am somewhat singular in furnishing my study, as well as in oi'namenting the avenue. My books are not for show, but use ; and claim a regard, rather on account of their worth than their number. An im- mense multitude of volumes, I have always thought, is more likely to embarrass the at- tention than to improve the understanding. A huge libraiy seems to resemble a per- plexing labyrinth ; and often bewilders the DIALOGUE VI. 213 mind, instead of leading it expeditiously to the acquisition of truth. When people are eager to peruse a mul- tiplicity of writings, it frequently happens, that in reading all they digest none.* They taste some empty and transient amusement, but collect no solid or lasting advantage. Their minds are somewhat like those capa- cious looking-glasses, wliich we have seen exposed in the most frequented and popu- lous streets of London. They receive all manner of shadowy images, but no substan- tial Impression. A thousand figures pass through them, not one abides in them. Om- books, replied Aspasio, as well as our friends, should rather be select thiui numerous. P^or my part, I would desire no more than two or three of the most cor- rect and masterly writers in any science. These a person of moderate capacity may be able to comprehend ; and not compre- hend only, but enrich his memory with the choicest sentiments, and make the substance of their works his own. He will, by re- petition and familiar converse, enter into their spirit, and acquire their manner ; while a rambler in reading does little more than gratify his fancy, without refining his taste, or amending his heart. Upon this Aspasio tiuned himself, and espied, in one comer of the apartment the celestial and terrestrial globes ; in another, a large refiecting telescope ; and on the top of a bureau, one or two of the best micros- copes. These instruments, resumed Theron, have opened an inexhaustible fund of the finest entertainments."}" They have furnished us with new eyes, and brought up, I may ven- tiu:e to say, a new world into our view. They give us a sight of wonders, which may seem incredible to the incurious vulgai", and were utterly imknown to the most inquisitive sages of antiquity. They charm the eye with a display of inimitable beauties, where no- thing worthy of notice was expected. They throw the mind into a pleasing transport of admiration ; and from the meanest, low- est objects, raise the mostamiable and exalted ideas of the all-glorious Creator. I have often regretted, that such rational and manly gratifications should be almost * The author of Night Thoughts has touched this subject witli great judgment, and equal sprightlmess. Voracious learning, often over-ted, Digests not into sense the raoally meal. This forager on other's wisdom leaves Her native farm her reason quite untill'd. W ith mixed manure she surfeits the rank soil, Dung'd, but not dress'd : and rich to beggary, t Gentlemen of taste and seriousness cannot, I think, have a nobler piece of furniture for their studies, than the microscope and the telescope, the orrery ;ind the air-pump. This apparatus would af- ford thera a most delightful and improving amuse- ment in a solitary hour ; it would also give them an oi)portunity of entertaining their company in a truly elegant and very instructive manner. It would open a tine and ample field for displaying the glories of Cod the Creator, and of God the Redeemer. universally supplanted by the fantastical and childish amusements in vogue. Why should not the contemplation of nature's surprising novelties be as acceptable an entertainment as the stiile diversion of quad- rille ? be as refined an employ for a leisure hour, as to count the spots on a pack of cards ? The ladies, I am very sure, might find brighter colours and more delicate or- naments, in the robes and head-dress of a common fly, than ever they found amidst the trinkets of a toyshop. And was the fair circle of females once acquainted mth the radiant varnish and rich studs which ena- mel the cover of a beetle's wing, I am apt to think, they would view with less rapture, with more indifference, perhaps with a be- coming disdain, all the pretty fancies of a beau's wardrobe. A few days ago, when the accomplished Manilla favoured us with a visit, I showed her, through a magnifying glass, the sting of a bee, the scale of a soal, the wing of a gnat, and some other beautiful minims of nature, together with the powder which adheres to oiu- finger when we touch the body of a moth. " Amazing !" cried the young lady; " What elegant figures ! What enchanting finery ! " Smallest lineaments exact. In all the liveries dec'K'd of summer's pride. With spots of gold and purple, azure and green." Milton, h. vii. " How perfect the polish, and how high the finishing, of that little weapon ! This piece of defensive armour, how skilfully contrived, and how curiously wrought ! Here rising into little ridges, like the bosses of a buckler, fitted to repel injuries : there, scooped into little cavities, designed, I sup- pose to diminish its weight ; that the coat of mail may not encumber, even while it defends, the puny wearer. What I took to be a whitish despicable rag, is the neatest fan I ever beheld, mounted on sticks* ini- mitably tapering and slender, tinged with all the soft and lovely colours of the most glossy mother-of-pearl. But what astonishes me more than all, is the view of that co- loured dust, which your instrument has turned into a cluster of feathers. Every one wrought off with a regularity and a de- licacy that are beyond the jjower of descrip- tion. The finest stroke drawn by the Ita- lian pen, compared with the extreme mi- nuteness of the shaft, is broad and bidky as an admiral's mast. A speck of leaf- gold, could it be weighed against the exquisite at- tenuations of the vane, t would seem more substantial and ponderous than yonder mar- ble slab. * These sticks are the little ribs, which support, at proper intervals, the fine transparent membrane of the wing. \ Van'.' IS the feathery part of a quill. 214 THERON AND ASPASIO. " How nice, even to a prodigy, must be the mechanism of the animalcule race ! I see globules, I see tides of blood, rolling through meanders inexpressibly finer than the finest hair. — Stranger still ! I see whole shoals of active creatures expatiating in a single drop of water ;* taking their pastime amidst such a scanty canal, as unstraitened, and as much at large, as leviathan in the abysses of the ocean. A whole kingdom of those creatures, though collected into a body, are quite undiscernible by the naked eye. What then must be the size of every individual ? Yet in every individual there is a complete system of limbs ; each endow- ed with spontaneous motion ; all assembled, though not crowded, in a living atom. To reflect upon the texture of vessels, and the operation of organs, so complex, so numer- ous, yet so inconceivably minute ; how it awakens admiration, fills me with reverence of the Almighty Maker, and yields a pleasiu-e infinitely superior to all the modish amuse- ments of our sex ! Your discoveries of life in miniature have given me a disgust of what is called high life, and its solemn fop- peries. You have spoiled me, Theron, for a fashionable trifler. I shall no longer relish the dull economy of the fan, or the poor pa- rade of the snufF-box." Asp. Have you nothing to say of the te- lescope ? — I believe it must be myprovince to celebrate this admirable invention ; and I wish I could do it, with Manilla's brilliant imagination. If the microscope leads us downward, to the curious secrets of the ani- malcule creation, the telescope bears us upward, to the grand peculiarities of the stariy regions. The eye, conducted by this wonderful guide, visits a variety of majestic orbs, which would otherwise be lost in un- measurable tracts of ether. This, far more surprising than the discoveries of Columbus, has found out new colonies of worlds in every quarter of the noctmnal skies. This has placed a glittering crescent on the brow of onef of the planets ; and has given others a most stately train of attendants. J Tell me, Theron, could you discern the full choir of the constellations, or distinguish the variegated face of the moon, • In a single drop of water. Dr. Hook is said to have discOTered, with his microscope, eight millions two hundred and eighty thousand animalcules. This is mentioned, because it is the prevailing philosophy of the age; though I must confess that M. Gautier seems to have gone a considerable way towards giving it another turn ; as he has proved, before a learned assembly at Paris, that the vermiculares of Lewen- hoek, and the living molecule of M. de Buffon, were only balls of air agitated by the fermenting of the «eea. If so, it is not impossible but Dr. Hook's ani- malcules may be nothing more than balls of air, agi- tated by the fermenting of the pepper. Be this as it will, the young lady's remarks on the wonde s of me- chanism in the animalcule creation, I believe, will never be controverted. i The iilaiiet Venus. t The satvlliU's of Jupiter and Saturn without the aid of our telescopic tube ? Could you, with your unassisted eye, get a sight of Jupiter's satellites, or procure a glimpse of Saturn's ring ? Without that supplementary aid to our sight, they are quite imperceptible ; though the satellites of the former are incomparably more mag- nificent than the retinue of all the monarchs in the world ; and, compared wth the ring of the latter, all the bridges on ten thousand rivers, are less than the ferule of your cane. As the telescope to the eye, so is revela- tion to the understanding. It discovers truths, which, exclusive of such a discovery, had been for ever hid from the most saga- cious minds. It is strange to the unlearn- ed observer, that this ponderous globe of earth and seas should wheel its rapid circuit round the sun. But the telescope has ren- dered this fact clear to a demonstration. It is strange like\vise to our natural appre- hensions, that we should die in Adam, and be imdone by our first parent's disobedience; nor less so, that we should be made alive in Christ, and derive our recovery from his im- puted righteousness. But revelation makes this doctrine as certain as it is comfortable. TTier. Does revelation make it certain ? — This is a point not yet established but taken for granted. I rather apprehend, that revelation in no place maintains it — in many places disavows it. Since your ab- sence, Aspasio, I have spent some time in searching the scriptiu-es, with a particular view to this tenet ; and I can find no such expression in the whole Bible as the impu- tation of Christ's righteousness. If it was so leading an article as you represent, surely it could not have been entirely forgotten by the inspired writers, nor utterly excluded from their body of divinity. Asp. The very identical expression may not occur, and yet the doctrine be abim- dantly taught. I believe, you never met with the word resurrection in any part of the Pentateuch, nor ever read the phrase satisfaction in all the New Testament. Yet our Lord fully proved the truth of the for- mer from the writings of Moses ; and you yourself have acknowledged the latter to be the unanimous sense of the apostles and evangelists. In the Epistle to the Romans, we have express and repeated mention of a right- eousness imputed. What or whose right- eousness can be the subject of this asser- tion ? Not the righteousness of angels ; They are a superior class of beings, and have no such intimate connexion with our nature. Not the righteousness of eminent saints : This is the exploded error of Po- pery ; and furnishes the Romish zealots with that chimera of arrogance and folly, works of supererogation. Not any right- eousness of our own ; for it is positively DIALOGUE VI. S15 declared to be without works, (Rom. iv. 6,) in which no works of our own have any concurrence, or the least share. — What other righteousness then can be meant, but the righteousness of our great Substitute, Surety, and Saviour, who took our nature, discharged ovu- debt ; and is therefore styled, "Jehovah our righteousness." (Jer. xxiii. 6.) Ther. This seems contraiy to the whole tenor of the sacred instructions. What says the prophet? " When the wicked man tumeth away from his wickedness that he hath committed, and doth that which is lawful and right, he shall save his soul alive." (Ezek. xviii. 27.) Here that great- est of blessings, the salvation of the soul, is ascribed to a departure from evil, and a perseverance in good ; to a real alteration in a man's own temper and conduct, not to any fanciful application of some transmis- sive righteousness from another. Asp. Let me ask my Theron, is there no wickedness but riot and debauchery, pro- faneness and injustice ? Unbelief, though it may pass without censure or notice in a system of morality, is, in the voliune of re- velation, declared a capital crime. Oiu: Lord, speaking of the Holy Spirit, mentions it as a signal part of his office, that " He shall convince the world of sin." Of what sin ? Scandalous violations of moral recti- tude ? This were a needless employ. The light of reason is sufficient to evince such a charge, and the court of conscience is erect- ed to pass the deserved sentence. Of sin, adds the heavenly Teacher, " because they believe not on me," (John xvi. 9,) on my death, as the cause of their forgiveness ; on my righteousness, as the ground of their acceptance ; on my Spirit, as the powerful principle of their holiness. Unbelief treats God as a liar, (I John v. 10,) because it rejects the testimony which he has bore concerning his beloved Son. Unbelief tramples on the blood of Clmst, and is a most contemptuous affront to all his saving offices. Unbelief would coun- teract the operations of the Holy Ghost, whose peculiar work it is to testify of Christ, and make manifest his righteousness. Un- belief instigates (could we have thought it possible ?) a child of dust, a slave of sin, to idolize himself and his own performances. To say all in a word, imbelief is that great, that comprehensive iniquity, which scorn- fully rejects, or impiously renounces, the most glorious method of salvation which Omniscience itself could devise. The wicked man, therefore, never turns from his wickedness, till he turns, by a true faith, to Jesus Christ. Till then, he is a rebel against the gospel, however he may pay some specious and partial regard to the law, So flagrant a rebel, that he stands particularly excepted, in the act of evange- lical indemnity. For as " he that believeth on the Son, hath everlasting life ; so he that believeth not, is condemned already, and the wiath of God abideth on him."* Ther. What are the Psalmist's sentiments on this subject ? Does not he represent the matter in a very different light ? " Thou, Lord, art merciful ; for thou rewardest every man according to his," not another's "works." (Psalm Ixii. 12.) Asp. Weighty saying! May it impress our very hearts ! God is merciful, and there- fore rewardeth. From whence it appears, that what we call a reward is really an act of mercy rather than of justice. " The wages of sin is death ; but the gift," (says the apostle, altering his style, and making a most important distinction,) the gift of God "is eternal life." (Rom. vi. 23.) The in- spired penman subjoins, not^r but accord- ing to, every man's works. His works are the measure, not the meritorious cause. To merit, is the sole prerogative of the Sa- \'iour. To him it is owing, that our im- perfect services are honoured with any ac- ceptance ; much more that they are recom- pensed \vith any reward. Ther. Does not this exposition of yours clash with that truly generous acknowledg- ment of St. Peter ? " In every nation, he that feareth God, and worketh righteous . ness, is accepted with him." (Acts x. 35.) Here it is undeniably evident, that accept- ance with our Creator is founded on a man's own piety, and personal integrity. Asp. Rightly to understand this text, we should inquire into the circumstances of the history. The apostle had been strongly and most unreasonably prejudiced in favour of the Jews ; imagining, that the salvation of Christ, like the dispensation of Moses, must be confined to his countrymen. But now, having considered the piuTJort of his late heavenly vision, having compared it with the angelic message delivered to Cor- nelius ; and being made acquainted with the character of that valuable man ; he breaks out into tliis truly catholic declara- tion : " My prejudices are vanished. My sentiments are enlarged. From the instance before me, it is demonstrably certain, that God does not appropriate the blessings of his covenant to any particular person, fa- mily, or people. ' But, in every nation, he that feareth him, and,' fiom a principle of * John iii. 18, 36, Tlie words are exceedingly em- phatical, and no less awful. Not barely he sivall corne into condemnation, but he (that believelh not) is condemned already. Though ever so civilized or refin- ed in his outward conversation , he lies under a sentence of death, and is theobject of divine wrath. Which not only will visit him, but abideth on him. So that, wherever he may be, whatever he may do, the dis- pleasure of the tremendous Jehovah hangs over him, like a dreadful destructive sword; which, if he dies in such a condition, will inevitably fall upon him, and cut him in pieces eternally. 2ie THERON AND ASPASIO. religion in the heart, ' worketh righteous- ness* in the life, ' is accepted ;' so accepted, as to be an object of the divine favour, and an inheritor of eternal happiness." This, I think, is the exact meaning of the place. And let it be recollected, that no one tridy fears, or can possibly please God, without faith. (Heb. xi. 6,) For which reason, it seems necessary to suppose, that Cornelius, though a heathen by birth, had believed through grace. Nay, it is evident from the context, that he had heard of Jesus Christ ; had some acquaintance wth the design of his coming, and the ex- ecution of his office ;* enough to be the ground of a real, though perhaps an in- fantile faith. The business of the apostle was, to lead this convert into the clear light, and full privileges of the gospel ; to ratify and confirm his title to them, by the sacred seal of baptism ; and introduce him, as the first fruits of the Gentiles, into the Christ- ian church. So that nothing can be concluded from this passage, but that the glad tidings of Christianity are for Jews, for Gentiles, for all people ; that faith, even when weak, is productive of good works ; and when sin- cerely improved, will certainly be increased — " will go from strength to strength." Ther. Does not our Saviour, in describ- ing the process, and fortelling the issue of the last decisive trial, assign a kingdom to the righteous ? assign it in this precise view, as a proper remuneration of their own good works ; saying in the most express terms, " Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world : For I was an hungered, and ye gave me meat : for," &c. (Matt. XXV. 30.) Asp. Be pleased to take notice of the expression. They are bidden to inherit; and what is freer than an inheritance ? Ob- serve also the reason alleged, and compare it with the rule of judicature : " He that believeth," saith the supreme judge, " shall be saved." This is the avowed, the invari- able standard, by which he proceeds in ad- ministering everhisting judgment. Ac- cordingly, he confers eternal life on the righteous, as persons entitled to this great felicity on the foot of his own gracious ap- pointment. For denotes, not the foundation, but the evidence of their right. " I acquit such a person," says the arbitrator in a judicial claim ; " for the witnesses depose that the « Acts X. .%, 37. Indeed it could hardly be other- wise, since Cornelius was settled at Cesarea, the resi- dence of the lord-lieutenant, and seat of the civil, as Jerusalem was of the ecclesiastical government. In a place of such general resort, so very remarkable an event could not' be unknown, especially as Philip the evangelist had lixcd hisabodo in that city. See Acts viii. -Ut. debt is paid." The deposition, which an- swers to these righteous acts, is the proof; payment of the debt, which coiresponds with Christ's perfect obedience, is the cause* of the discharge. " For ye have given, ye have abounded in all instances of duty to me, and love to your brethren ; and thereby have manifested yourselves true believers." It may be farther observed, that our Lord says not ye have done it to your fellow-crea- tures, but to " these my brethren," (Matth. XXV. 40. ) He commends not eveiy random act of good nature or generosity, but such kinds of beneficence only as cany the Chris- tian stamp — were exercised to a disciple, " in the nameof a disciple." And those most evidently spring from faith ; these unde- niably attest its sincerity. Ther. Are not these distinctions more subtile than solid? Asp. To me they appear in no such light. If you think otherwise, let us appeal to those excellent persons themselves. The turn, the very remarkable tvmi of their sen- timents will fully decide our question. Do they lay any stress upon their own religious duties and beneficent deeds ? Far from re- lying on them, farther still from pleading them, they bestow not a single thought upon them. Having fixed their hopes on the Rock of Ages, they forget these transient bubbles,-!- Nay, they wonder, that their ex alted Master should condescend to makt any honoin-able mention of such imperfect services. O that we may be enabled, through the whole course of our lives, to follow the example of their piety ! and, when we stand before the tremendous tribmial, to imitate their humility and wisdom ! Their humili- ty, in renouncing themselves, and disclaim- ing all desert of their own : their wisdom, in reposing their whole confidence on the merits and righteousness of their Redeemer. Ther. Our Lord makes no mention of this doctrine in his sermon on the mount. Whereas if it had been so very material, he would at least have touched upon it in that comprehensive summa;y of true religion. Asp. Our Lord says not a word concern- ing the sacrifice of liis death. Neither is there a syllable relating to his intercession for transgressors. But are these articles of our liiith to be deemed fictitious or super- * The spring is come, says the covnitryman : for the orchard blooms, and the blackbird sings. The blooming of the trees, and the melody of the birds, were never supposed to create, only to characterise, the delightful season. They are not its cause, but the proof of its taking place. t Bubbles they are, compared with the all-glorious obedience of Christ, or considered in reference to the grand affair of justification before God. But as bub- bles, or watery vesicles inflated with air, are the means of exhibiting the beautiful colours of the rain- bow; so these services, though poor and defective, bear tcstivnonv to the existence of that jirecious grace —faith. DIALOGUE VI. 217 fluous, because they are not expressly incul- cated in that admirable treatise of practical divinity ? However, upon a more attentive examina- tion, perhaps, we shall find the point most strongly implied, though not distinctly spe- cified : its necessity demonstrated, though its nature be not explained. The illustrious Teacher opened his mouth, and with a pe- culiar solemnity said, " Blessed are the poor in sph'it," (Matth. v. 3.) But who are they? Not the persons who soothe themselves with the fiuttering conceit of the Laodicean church, " I am rich in obedience, and in- creased in spiritual goods," (Rev. iii. 17.) Those rather, who see their indigence, be- wail their guilt, and hunger and thirst after the justifying merit of a Redeemer ; whs, from the very bottom of an humbled heart, confess, " Lord, I am no more able to con- form all my conduct to thy most holy la\A', than I am capable of atoning for my iimu- merable sins. Christ must be my righteous- ness, as well as my propitiation, or else I am irrecoverably undone." The inimitable preacher farther assures his hearers, that, " unless their righteous- ness exceed the righteousness of the Scribes and Pharisees, they shidl in no wise enter into the kingdom of heaven," (Matth. v. 20.) How must Christians exceed tlie Pharisees? Not only in being sincere, in having respect unto all God's commandments ; but also in possessing a complete righteousness, such as the divine holiness can with complacency accept, and in which the divine justice may with honour acquiesce. Nor can this be any thing less than the perfect obedience of the great Mediator. St. Paul's memorable testimony, concerning his attainments in the Pharisaical, and his hopes in the Christian state, afford the very best comment upon this important declaration of our Lord, ( Phil, iii. 7,8, 9.) Ther. The Oracle of heaven, you know, was once consulted upon that most momen- tous of all questions, how a person may as- certain his title to life and immortality? And what is the tenor of the sacred res- cript ? We are referred to the ten command- ments ; and, in the most explicit terms, with the most peremptory air, told, " this do, and thou shalt live." (Matth. xix. 17. Luke X. 28.) Asp. That particular person, if you please, Wiis referred to the ten commandments ; not we, and manldnd in general. Our Lord, in the preceding verses, had been informing his disciples, that they must receive the kingdom of God, or the grace of the gospel, and the blessings it proposes, as a little child. And this can hardly signify, in con- sequence of their oyvw doings. Thcr. " That particular person referred to ! Not we, and mankind in general !" I do not understand your meaning, As])a- sio. Asp. You will observe, then, that our Lord's reply was not an universal direction, butan answer, adhominem, peculiarly adapted to the young gentleman's application, which, however it may be admired, was none of the wisest. Instead of asking, " How shall a poor guilty mortal, who is every day of- fending, obtain forgiveness from the right- eous God ?" instead of saying, " How shall I, who am not able to think a good thought, make siu-e my title to an eternal weight of glory?" our querist demands," what good thuig shall I do, that I may inherit eternal life ?" The reply proceeds upon the inquirer's own principles, " If you expect salvation upon such legal terms, know, that your obedience must be nothing less than a perfect conformity to the divine law. Perform all its precepts, in their utmost extent, and with, an unremitted perseverance, then" — But, alas ! such perfection is too high for fallen creatures, they cannot attain unto it. Necessarily, therefore, must they drop all such pretensions, and have recourse to some other method of justification. Ther. Why did that " wonderful counsel- lor," if such was the purport of his answer, express himself so obscurely ? Why did he not divert his promising scholar from this fruitless attempt, and put him in the right, the practicable way of obtaining salvation ? Asp. This he did with the finest address, and in the most skilful manner. Had our Lord affirmed, " You are worldly, you are covetous, your riches are your god ;" such a charge woidd in all probability iiave been as confidently denied as it was plainly urged. Therefore he brings this specious hypocrite to a test* which coidd not be evaded, and which was sure to discover the truth, a test which laid open the palpable and enormous defects of his so much boasted obedience ; which made it appear that, instead of keep ■ ing all the commandments, this vain self- jusuciary had not obeyed the very first; but amidst all his towering imaginations of himself, had been, and at that very instiuit was, a sordid grovelling idolater, who pre- ferred his transitory possessions on earth to an everlasting inheritance in the kingdom of heaven. Could any expedient be more suitable to the case, or better calculated to reduce him, intoxicated as he was with pride, to a sober humble mind ; to beat him off from his false foundation, " the right- * Matt. xix. 21. " If thou wilt be perfect, sell all that thou hast, and give to the poor." This direc- tion seems to be much of the same nature with that other part of our Lord's reply : " If thou wilt enter into life, keep the commandments." Both were per- sonal, both occasional, both adapted to particular circumstances. The latter is no more the stated evan- gelical way to heaven, than the former is indispens- ably obligatory on all C'liristians. 218 THERON AND ASPASIO. eousness wliich is of the law," and lead him to a reliance on the promised, the expected, the present Messiah ? It puts me in mind of my friend Saga- cio's conduct, which seems to have some conformity with our Lord's procedure, and may possibly tend to illustrate its propriety. Visiting one of his unlearned neighbours, he found him in company with a certain talkative stranger, who was haranguing at an extravagant rate on the wonders of as- tronomy. Sagacio soon perceived that the chief furniture of this extraordinaiy adept lay in a little acquaintance with the tech- nical terms, and somewhat more than a lit- tle share of assurance. How should he bring the self-plumed sciolist to a little modesty of sentiment, and decorum of con- versation? He took leave to ask, " What the word astronomy might signify? The orator was struck dumb in a moment. He had never informed himself, it seems, that astronomy related to the order and re- gidation of the stars. This single question taught our minute philosopher more effec- tually than twenty lectures on the subject. It taught him his own ignorance, and that he had the very rudiments of his so much admired science still to leani. Ther. What will you say to those famous passages in the epistle of St. James, " By works a man is justified," — " Was not Abraham our father justified by works?" (Jam. ii. 21, 24.) Can any words be plainer in their meaning ? or can any mean- ing be more directly opposite to the whole scope of your argumentation ? Asp. This I would say, Theron : the passages you quote, when detached from the context, may seem inconsistent with the declarations of another apostle ; as a limb, when wrenched from its natural situation, appears with an air of disproportion. Where- as, reduce the dislocated part, and it will recover the symmetry of its shape, it will harmonize exactly with the animal system. Replace likewise these assertions, consider them in connexion with the whole para- graph, and they will be foimd, if not uni- sons, yet perfect concords with the strain of St. Paul's teaching. What is the point which St. James un- derttikes to illustrate ? To distinguish a genuine from an insincere faith. " If a man say, he hath faith," (Jam. ii. 14.) this is mentioned as the boast of some hypocritical professor. So that the apostle is evidently dealing with a pretender to the precious gift ; and therefore replies, " Shew me thy faith," prove the reality of thy claim ; prove it to me and to the church, to thy fellow-crea- tures and fellow- Christians. If unproduc- tive of righteous and godly works, we nmst pronounce it spurious, worthless, dead. Having detected the counterfeit, he pro- ceeds to describe the sterling. The grand characteristic of which is, a frame of mind, and a course of action, corresponding with the doctrine believed. By this touchstone, the faith of our renowned progenitor was tried, and, being tried, was " found unto praise, and honour, and glory. " " Was not Abraham our father justified by works ?" Justified ! How ? As to acceptance with the Supreme Judge ? No : this was effect- ed long before the Patriarch offered up Isaac. But when he exercised that heroic act of self-denial, resignation and obedience, then his justification was evidenced to all generations. " His faith was made per- fect," answered its proper end, and appear- ed to be of the true, the triumphant, the scriptural kind, since it overcame the world, overcame self, and regarded God as all in all. Upon the whole, St. Paid speaks concern- ing the justification of our persons, St. James concerning the justification of our faith.* St. Paid describes the manner of being justified before the all-seeing God ; St. James points out the prooff of a justi- fied state, as it is visible to men. The former proceeds from the immaculate right- eousness of Christ, placed to our account j the latter consists in the fruits of righteous- ness adorning our life. Rightly understood, therefore, these passages are not the least contradictory to the epistles of St. Paul, or to the scope of my argumentation. But are a seasonable caveat, and a proper pre- servative, against misunderstanding those, or perverting this. Ther. I wish you would read that con- cise but judicious abridgment of true reli- gion, comprised in the fifteenth psalm. The sacred penman, for his owa, and for the in- formation of all mankind, asks, " Lord, who shall dwell in thy tabernacle, or who shall rest upon thy holy hill ?" To this most in- teresting inqiury, the following verses are a full and satisfactory answer ; the whole of which turns upon the discharge of mord duties ; " walking uprightly and working righteousness ;" without a syllable, or a single hint, concerning the very superior • That the expression used by St. James signifies this declarative justification is plain from 1 Tim. iii. 16, where the apostle, speaking of our Lord Jesus Christ, says '^ixaiuitit He was justified in or by the Spirit ; declared to be the true Son of God ; manifest- ed on earth, and recognised from heaven, as the un- doubted Saviour of the world. t A very little reflection, I should imagine, must convince every unprejudiced reader, that St. James cannot possibly be stating the method of justification before the infinitely righteous God; because he never so much as mentions the death of Christ, ' ' who made his soul an offering for sin ; to whom gave all the prophets witness, that whosoever believeth in him, shall receive remission of sins; and besides whom, there is no other name given under heaven, whereby we can be saved. Could an apostle so absolutely for- get his Lord; and in a case where every other in- spired writer acknowledges Him; nay, acknowledget him to be all in all ! DIALOGUE VI. 219 excellence of faitb, or the extreme necessity of a vicarious obedience. Asp. I have often read, and I well re- member, that beautiful, that instructive psalm. And I beg leave to observe, once for all, with relation to such passages of the Old Testament, that they suppose the per- sons whom they describe to be convinced of their natural corruption, to be humbled under a sense of their actual guilt, and to live in a conscientious observance of the expiatory sacrifices ; all which had an in- variable reference to Christ, and derived their whole virtue from his mediation. Would any of the Jewish saints, think you, have dared to advance a plea for eter- nal blessedness, upon the foot of their own conformity to such moral directions ; ne- glecting, at the same time, the sacrifices of the three great festivals, or a believing im- provement of the daily oblation ? By no means. They were, and they would ac- knowledge themselves deplorably defective ; they would plead the promise of free grace, and fly to the blood which God himself had appointed to make an atonement for their souls. By such sentiments, and such a conduct, they reduced to practice the very essence of our doctrine ; disavowing their OAvn deeds, however virtuous or religious, and trusting in the strength of Israel, " the Lord our righteousness," who alone fidfill- ed all the precepts contained in this excell- ent formulary of duty ; who was also the substance of every purifying and of every propitiatory rite. TTier. Has not the sacred \vriter ex- pressly said, at the close of the psalm, " Whoso doeth these things, shall never faU?" Asp. He has ; and this, I apprehend is his meaning. " Persons of such a temper, and such a practice, bear the marks of God's children, and are meet for his glory. Ac- cordingly, they shall never fall either into total apostacy here, or final condemnation hereafter. They are now heirs, and in due time shall be possessors, of his eternal king- dom." But you will take notice, that all these duties and qualifications oidy characterise, not constitute, the inheritor of heaven. You will likewise advert to another very remarkable circumstance in the description : " He setteth not by himself, but is lowly in his own eyes ;"* or, as the more expressive t Psal XV. 4. DNQDV 31i^mD2 I cannot say that I admire the Bible translationof this clause: " In whose eyes the vile person is contemptible." Me- thinks, it tloes not savour of the tender and benign spirit of our religion, which teaches us to honour all men, to despise no one's person, but only to detest the wickedness of the wicked. Should tlie sense 1 have opposed have its weight, the sense 1 have preferred is incomparably weightier. If to despise the vile, is a religious act, to think meanly ot ourselves, is a much more advanced, and a original speaks, he is despicable and vile in his own sight ; so far from aspiiing to self- justification, that he even condemns and ab- hors himself, and falls down, as a most un- worthy wretch, at the foot of infinitely free grace. Ther. I cannot but think it is the cun'ent doctrine of scripture, and I am sure it is one of the first principles which the light of nature teaches, — That the most high God must necessarily love righteousness, and take pleasure in the righteous. Asp. If the light of nature was to pub- lish a gospel, I believe it would be formed upon your plan. It would bestow favour only on the innocent, the virtuous, and the holy. But the gospel of Christ runs in a very diflferent strain ; This brings pardon for the condemned, and blessings for the accursed : This is health to the sick, and recovery to the ruined. " The Lord hath anointed me," saith its divine Author, " to preach good tidings to the meek,"* who are humbled under a sense of their sinfulness. " He hath sent me to bind up the broken hearted," who are wounded with a conviction of their undone state ; — " to proclaim liber- ty to the captives," the wretched captives of Satan ; " and the opening of the prison to them that are bound," bound in the chains of ignorance, impotence, and misery. As I am myself a most unworthy sinner, you must not be displeased if I espouse the cause of those unhappy creatures. Yet though a friend of sinners, I am no enemy to the righteous. I entirely agree with my Theron in allowing, that the most high God necessarily loves righteousness. Only I want to be informed, where this admira- ble and lovely quality is to be found ? Not far more difficult instance of true religion. This is to copy the highest pattern of human excel lence, who, notwithstanding his very superior attainments, ac- counted himself less than the least of all saints, iiay, the very chiefesl of sinners. * Isa. Ixi. 1. Upon this passage of Isaiah I would beg leave to observe that the word meek seems not to answer or convey the prophet's idea. By glad tidings to the meek, we are inclined to think of persons en- dued with that placid and quiet spirit, which is in the sight of God of great price. This might discourage many people, who know themselves to be destitute of such a gracious habit. This might lead others to sus- pect, that some amiable disposition is previously ne- cessary, in order to receive the benefits of redeeming grace. Which is a very mistaken, and will prove a most uncomfortable forbidding notion. The original r^V^j? signifies, in this place, the afflicted ; not so much those who are beautified with meekness as those who are oppressed with misery, spi- ritual misery especially ; not excepting even those who are slaves to their own unruly passions. The Lord Jesus never finds, but makes people meek. Meek- ness is one of the fruits of his Spirit, one of the bless- ings which he bestows on the unworthy. I'he whole paragraph is a description of extreme wretchedness. What can be more distressed than the man whose outward circumstances are impoverished and ruined; whose spirit is broken under the weight'of his calamities, who is taken captive by the enemy, is thrown into a dungeon, and loaded with irons ? "This is the prophet's representation, this is the picture of unconverted sinners ; and to these, to these Christ Jesus is a ransom, a deliverer, a portion. 220 THERON AND ASPASIO. junorig the Gentiles : They have swerved from the dictates of natural conscience. Not among the Jews : They have broke the holy commandment delivered on mount Sinai. Not among Christians : For, if God should enter into judgment with us, we could not answer him one of a thousand. In the kingdom of Ethiopia, or in the country of the Moors, where will you find the native whites? The Son of God found none among the race of Adam that were entitled to the character of righteous. He who gave him- self a ransom for all, makes no application to such persons. * Why ? Because he sul- lenly disesteemed personal goodness, or was unable to distinguish the excellency of in- herent virtue ? No ; but because he knew, that, amiable as these qualifications are, they have no existence in the human heait, till the sinner, reconciled by his death, be sanctified also by his Spirit. You remember, perhaps, that remarkable answer which the Spartans once returned to a threatening embassy from some of the neighbouring states ? Nothing could be more concise ; and, I think, nothing was ever more spirited and significant. Ther. Those neighbours gave them to understand, by their ambassadors, " That, if they entered their territories, they would burn their towns, make the inhabitants pri- soners, and spread destniction wherever they advanced." To which insolent me- nace, the brave Lacedemonians made no other reply, than — If. Is this the story to which you refer ? Asp. The veiy same. And when you are speaking of human righteousness, as the cause of our acceptance with the eternal God, I would borrow the language of a Spartan. If, shall be my reply. — If, se- clusive of the obedience, and independent on the Spirit of Christ, you can furnish yourself with this endowment ; or if you can carry your righteousness to that perfec- tion, which may equal the purity of the law, and comport with the majesty of the Law- giver ; then trust in it — let it be the ground of your confidence, and seek no better foundation. But whosoever shall in this manner seek for his recommendation to the favour of God, will act like the mistaken countryman in Horace, who, being unable to ford the river, took up a resolution to wait till the stream was all run by : ^ -■' At ille Labitur, et labetur in omne volubilis aivum." f Ther. Here, I fancy, we must take leave of your countryman. If he adheres to his * Matth. ix. 13. " I came not to call the righteous but sinners to repentance. ' t Vain man desist ; such flattering hopes forego : It Hows, aiuUiows, and will forever flaw. resolution, we shall find him in the very same situation when breakfast is over j and may resume our subject, just where it is discontinued. DIALOGUE Vn. Ther. To nic, who have spent the great- est part of the winter in towoi, these scenes of the country are inexpressibly pleasing. Take who ^vdll the gilded saloon, and the silken settee, so long as I can shelter my- self under the canopy of such a spreading beech, and use one of its coarse misshapen roots for my seat. It is true we see no longer those si)lendid brocades, and elegant toupees, which dis- tinguish the Park and the Mall : but we have full in our view a multitude of honest rustics, piu'suing their cheerful labours in yonder meadow ; some mowing the luxuri- ant herbage ; some raising it into regular cocks ; others loading their waggons with the hay, or clearing the ground with their rakes. The ground, cleared of its soft en- cumbrance, appears fresh and green, like another spring ; while the exhalations of the tedded grass, floating in the air, give a rural perfume to the gale. And which, my Aspasio, which are the most valuable objects : — The little labourers of the hive, that enrich themselves, and regale their masters ? or the gay fluttcrers of the garden, whose whole life is nothing but sport, and their highest character is, to be insignifi- cantly pretty ? Asp. In this retirement we hear none of the wanton and corrupting airs of the opera ; no, nor the majestic and ennobling melody of the oratorio.* But we have a band of music stationed in the grove, and a concert of native harmony warbling from the boughs. We are entertained with the music which charmed the human ear long before Jubal found out his instruments, (Gen. iv. 21,) and thousands of years before Handel com- posed liis notes. The bulfinch, and a mid- titude of little tuneful throats, strike the key. The thrush below, and the skylark responsive from above, diversify and exalt the strain. The blackbird, somewhat like the solemn organ, \vith notes perfectly mel- low and gracefully sonorous, crowns the choir J while the turtle's melancholy voice, » Majestic and ennobling.— This, I think, is the true character, and expresses the real tendency of the ora- torio. Nevertheless, it may not be improper to ob- serve, that if we carry a triflingor irreligious spirit to the entertainment; if we attend to the musical airs, but disregard those sacred truths which enter into the composition; such a behaviour will be little better than a profanation of holy things. I fear it will be a species of taking God's adoiable and glorious name in vain. DIALOGUE VII. i>21 and the mui'muring water's phiintive tone, deepen and complete the universal sym- phony. This is the music which constituted the first song of thanksgivang, and formed the first vocal praise, that the all-gracious Cre- ator received from his new made world. This is neither the parent of effeminacy, nor a pander for vice, but refines the affec- tions, even while it amuses the imagination. Ther. All the entertainments of nature are calculated to secure our innocence, as well as to gratify our fancy. And what is another very agreeable circumstance, those gratifications which afford the sublimest j)leasure are exhibited gratis, while those which enervate the mind and debauch the affections must be dearly purchased. Every one cannot gain admittance into the boxes or the pit, when some celebrated tragedy is brought upon the stage ; but every one may behold the beauteous exhibitions of spring, and the finished productions of autumn. All may contemplate the machinery of na- ture, and the wonders of creation ; thereby enjoying a far more exquisite amusement, without any of the guilt or any of the dan- ger. The inhabitants of yonder ullages have never beheld the splendid procession which solemnizes the coronation of a monarch, nor the gaudy illuminations which distin- guish the anniversary of his birth. But they see, almost every moniing, a much nobler spectacle displayed in the east. They see the great Rider of the day, or rather the envoy from day's eternal Sovereign, making his entry amidst the spaces of the sky. The heavens are strewed with co- lours, which outvie the pinks and carnations. The grass is decked with dew-drops, and every plant is strung, as it were, with peai Is. All around, the darkness retires, and sweet refreshing gales arise. At length the mag- nificent luminary appears. And what is all the ostentatious pomp of kings, what is all the glitter of the most brilliant court, compared with his transcendent lustre ? This spectacle we may behold without loss of time or prejudice to health. Nay, we cannot behold it without improving one and redeeming the other. So beneficial are even the pleasures which nature yields ; so serviceable the very diversions to which she invites ! Asp. Thus gi-acious is the Almighty Maker in the constitution of material things. The substantial and the valuable are open to every one, are accessible by all. Only the tinsel and the trappings are the property of a few, the poor prerogative of wealth. No less gracious is God in the disposal of spiritual favours. These are infinitely more excellent, and yet are equally free. We are invited to buy them, " without money and without price." C Isaiah Iv. 1.) What do you give for the benefits of the rising sun, or the delights of this rural me- lody ? The case is much the same with re- gard to the righteousness by which we are justified, and all the blessings of salvation. Ther. This brings to our remembrance the countryman whom we left on the banks of the river. And for aught I can see, Theron and the rustic are pretty much upon a footing : the first as far from acceding to yom- notions, as the last is from gaining his point. Asp. Have you any objection, Theron, to these gifts of nature, because they are neither purchased by your money nor pro- duced by your own toil ? Ther. But who can ever expect to ob- tain pardon, and acceptance, and eternal salvation, at so cheap a rate ! It seems to be all delusion, Aspasio. Asp. So cheap ! Then you would pay somewhat, I perceive, by way of price. But give me leave to ask, what price did you pay to God your Maker, for fashioning you in your mother's womb ? what price have you paid to God your Preserver, for upholding you ever since you was born? or what price do you think of paying to God the supreme Proprietor, for the ground on which you tread, for the air in which you breathe, for the light by which you see? Just the same price must you advance to God your Saviour, for all his justifying merits. Both these and those proceed from the same benefactor. They are all absolutely necessary, either for the welfare of the body, or the happiness of the soul. And they are all vouchsafed on the same free terms- For thus saith the prophet : " His going forth," in the dispensation of the gos- pel, " is prepared as the morning." Christ, with all his precious privileges, " shall come unto us as the rain, as the latter and former rain unto the earth." (Hos. vi. 3.) However, if you are acquainted with a dif- ferent or a better way, be so good as to communicate your knowledge. Ther. Some, you may observe, depend upon their inoffensive behaviour. They live peaceably ; they do no harm to their neighbours ; they are guilty of no gross of- fence against God. And why should they not hope to obtain his favour ? They ap- prehend the prophet Samuel establishes their hope, when he makes this solemn ap- peal : " Whose ass have I taken ? whose ox have I taken ? or whom have I defraud- ed ?"(1 Sam. xii. 3.) Nay, they imagine, that our Lord himself has authorized their expectation, by giving this character of Na- thaniel : " An Israelite indeed, in whom is no guile." (John i. 47.) A freedom from outwai'd injustice and inward hypocrisy, is 222 THERON AND ASPASIO. all the qualification, applauded in the one case, avowed in the other. Asp. This negative goodness (if it de- serves to be called goodness) was a plea for the empty Pharisee. But none, I presume, would choose to be associated with such a companion, either in character here, or in condition hereafter. Samuel, in the place you mention, is vin- dicating himself only to his fellow-crea- tures, and only in the capacity of a magis- trate. He speaks not of his justification before the Judge of quick and dead. This he well knew must be derived from another source, and must rest upon a firmer bot- tom. The " Israelite wdthout guile," was a per- son who not only abstained from every sin, but performed every duty ; and without any wilful neglect of the one, or any allowed indulgence of the other. This instance, therefore, will by no means prove the suf- ficiency of your negative righteousness, which seems to have just the same degree of excellency as a fountain that never issues in water, or as a cloud that never descends in rain. Ther. In this particular, Aspasio, your sentiments are mine. But I M'ould add morality to civility ; the virtuous to the in- offensive conversation. And if we not ojdy cease to do evil, but learn to do well ; if we use temperance, exercise charity, and keep all the commandments to the best of our power, is not this a sufficient foundation for our hope ? Asp. Yes, Theron ; if, as you add mo- rality to your civility, you add perfection to both. Otherwise you must be ranked, not among the claimants, but among the delin- quents. You have no title to a reward, but stand in need of paidon. It is a principle of justice, founded on the unalterable constitution of things, that the debtor be acquitted, -when he has paid the debt. But supposing him, instead of gold to bring iron ; instead of talents to return pence, instead of defraying, to increase the score daily ; can he then reasonably expect, or legally claim a discharge ? With respect to such an obedience, we may pass our verdict in the figurative, but very expressive language of Isaiah : " The bed is shorter than that a man can stretch himself on it; and the covering narrower than that he can wrap himself in it." (Isa. SKviii. 20.) It can neither give rest to the alarmed conscience, nor afford protection to the guilty soul. If we have nothing better to plead, we shall not be able to lift up our heads in the last decisive judgment ; " but must enter into the rock, and hide ourselves in the dust, for fear of the Lord, and for the glory of liis majesty." (Isaiah ii. 10.) TTier. We will go a step farther, and take in the exercise of devotion. We will read God's word, pray to his divine Majesty, and regularly attend on his public worship. Here now are social accomplishments and moral virtues, completed by the performance of religious duties. Asp. Completed ! I fear that expression will scarcely abide the test of a single query. Have you then performed all your duties, with that ardent love of God, and undivided view to his glory ; with that adoring grati- tude to the blessed Jesus, and that child- like dependence on his Spirit, which the nature of things requires, and the scriptures of truth enjoin ? If not, your duties, be they moral or religious, or both, are far from be« ing complete ; nay, they are utterly defec- tive, and for that reason absolutely insuffi- cient for your justification. They are clip- ped or sophisticated coin ; and will that be current in the world of glory ? Ther. Allowing them to be defective, they are at least sincere. And though not free from all alloy, yet if they bear the image and superscription of integrity, why should they be rejected as "reprobate silver?" (Jer. vi. 30.) Why should they not obtain the currency you mention ? Asp. " Alas !" says a judicious and admir- ed writer, " the imperfections of our best services daily forfeit the blessings of time. How impossible then is it, that the sincerity of them, amidst so many frailties and de- fects, should purchase the glories of eter- nity !" Ther. Be your writer ever so judicious, I can confront him \nth others, equally ca- pable of judging, and diametrically opposite in opinion. What says that wise and brave man, the successor of Moses, and generalis- simo of the armies of Israel ? Joshua, I am sure, declares himself on my side : " Fear the Lord, and serve him in sincerity," is his last solemn charge to the people. (Joshua xxiv. 14.) Even the great apostle, on a review of his ministry, makes it matter of self-gratulation, that he " had his conversa- tion in godly sincerity." (2 Cor. i. 12.) Asp. You have quoted the charge de- livered by the servant ; be pleased to recol- lect the protestation made by the master : " Not for thy righteousness," says Moses, " or for the uprightness of thy heart, dost thou go to possess their land." (Deut. ix. 5.) Even an earthly Canaan was not given to the Israelites, as the reward of their own either outward obedience or inward sinceri- ty. Much less can we expect the kingdom of immortality on account of any upright- ness of our intentions, or piety of our ac- tions. However, as the doctrine of sincerity is the favourite and the fashionable tenet, I will conform a little to the taste in vogue. You shall have no reason to complain, that DIALOGUE VII. 223 lam either a cyiiic or a itoic* Let it suffice us to be sincere ; only let us refer ourselves to the apostle for a description of this darling qualification ; " That ye may be sincere, being filled with the fruits of right- eousness, which are by Jesus Christ, unto the praise and glory of God." (Phil. i. 10, Here are three properties of acceptable sincerity. — It must bear fruits, "the fruits of righteousness ;" and bear them abundant- ly, so that we may be filled with them. The branch and the fruits must derive, — that its vigour, these their flavour, and both of them their very being — from the all-suppoiting, all-supplying root Christ Jesus. Then, in- stead of terminating in self-justification, they must redound to the honour of God. It is not said, these shall justify you, but " these shall glorify your father which is in heaven." This kind of sincerity can never be too highly esteemed, nor too zealously encou- raged. But this, you will observe, flows from the grace of Christ, and issues in the glory of God ; therefore does but very poor- ly attest, either the sufficiency of human ability to perform good works, or the suffi- ciency of human works to win the prize of our high calling. Ther. Do you then exclude all works ? Will you make a mere nothing, both of our moral endowments, and of your evangelical obedience ? Asp. They are excluded, both the one and the other, from all share in justifying us ; yet not by me, but by an authority to which there can be no objection, and from which there lies no appeal. Speaking of salvation, thus saith the wisdom of God, " Not of works " Ther. Works of the ceremonial law, I suppose. These, we all acknowledge, are under the Christian dispensation, as a bond cancelled or an act repealed. But sure you will allow a better office, and a nobler cha- racter to that course of obedience which is regulated by the commands of Christ. Asp. St. Paul will allow it no such office as that for which my Theron is pleading. " Ye are saved," says the apostle. Ye are delivered from wrath, reconciled to God, and made heirs of his kingdom. How? " By grace, through faith," (Eph. ii 8.) Grace, like a magnificent sovereign, from the riches of his own bounty, and without any respect to human worthiness, confers the glorious gift. Faith, like an indigent petitioner, with an empty hand, and without any pretence to personal desert, receives the heavenly blessing. * The cynic had no complaisance, the stoic was quite inflexible. Both grace and faith stand in direct op- position to works, all works whatever — . whether they be works of the law, or works of the gospel ; exercises of the heart, or actions of the life ; done in a state of na- ture, or done under the influences of grace ; they are all and every of them, equally set aside in this great aflfair. That the bill of exclusion is thus exten- sive, or rather quite unlimited, appears from the reason assigned : " Lest any man should boast," Eph. ii. 9 ; that all pretence of glorying may be cut oflf from fallen crea- tures ; that the whole honour of obtaining salvation may be appropriated to him, "who hid not his face from shame and .spitting." — And is he not worthy, unspeak- ably and infinitely worthy, to receive this unrivalled honour as a recompense for his unparalleled humiliation ? Tlier. All om* good works, we allow, are recommended by Christ. They prevail for our justification only through his merits. So that we still depend upon the Redeemer ; and, by this means, pay him the highest honour. Asp. Depend upon the Redeemer ! No, my dear friend ; you rely upon your own pious acts, and moral qualifications. They, they are your grand recommendation. The office consigned over to the divine Jesus, is nothing more than to be (as it were) master of the ceremonies. He may have the credit of introducing your fine accomplishments with a kind of graceful air. But is this an office suited to his incomparable dignity ? Was it for this that he bowed the heavens and partook of our nature ? Was it for this that he became subject to the law, and obe- dient unto death? Only for this, that he might usher in our own endowments with a plume and a scarf? Surely, Theron, you can never entertain such low thoughts of the incarnate God, and of Christ's media- torial undertaking. Ther. Neither can I entertain such low and vilifying thoughts of our own virtuous attainments. They distinguish persons of eminence and worth from the sordid wretch, and execrable villain, just as the noble fa- culty of reason distinguishes the man from the brute. Asp. To deny good works the merit of justifying us, is very difltrent from vilifying them. You are going to build a new house, Theron : Pray, do you intend to hew your timber from the flimsy tendrils of the vine ? Ther. No certainly. Asp. Because you do not think its feeble shoots proper to form the beams, and sup- port the roof, of your intended edifice ; do you therefore afl!'ront them, depreciate them, or disallow their usefulness ? By no means. They may beautify your walls with their ornamental s])read, and enrich the desert 224 THERON AND ASPASIO. with their delicious fruit. This is an office suitable to the nature of the plant ; and from this it receives sufficient estimation, without pretending to the honours of the oak. Virtuous attainments, I own, are a con- siderable distinction in the present state of things ; and, what is a higher encomium, (I shall now outshoot you in your own bow,) they will distinguish the true believer from the hyprocritical professor, even at the great tribunal. But let them be con- tent with their province, and not intrude upon the Saviour's prerogative. To effect justification be his, to discriminate the justified, theirs. Neither let them elate their possessors with a vain conceit of themselves, who, though they were meek as Moses, holy as Samuel, and tosc as Daniel, must confide in nothing but the boundless mercies of the Lord, must plead nothing but the infinite merits of his Christ. ■ This is the theology both of the Psalmist and of St. Paul. They derive the bless- edness promised in scripture, not from the shallow stream of human accomplishments, but from the inexhaustible ocean of divine grace : " Blessed is he whose unrighteous- nesses are forgiven, and whose sins are co- vered." (Psalm xxxii. 1.) Ther, Will Aspasio then, like many of our modem disputants, mutilate the holy word ? industriously display what seems to strengthen his argument, but artfully secrete what tends to overthrow his scheme ? How could you forget, or why should you sup- press the following clause, " and in whose spirit there is no guile." Was you afraid it would demolish your opinion ; and point out an upright honest mind as the cause of this blessedness ? Asp. Far was I, my dear Theron, from any such groundless apprehensions, and equally far from all such delusoiy designs. "Shall I talk deceitfully for God?" (Job xiii. 7.) His sacred cause does not need it, and his exalted majesty would disdain it. No, I would condemn my tongue to eternal silence, rather than speak a syllable, either to conceal or disguise the truth. Most readily we will admit the sentence you mention, " In whose spirit there is no guile." It is evident from the context, that these words are not descriptive of a person in whose heart and conversation there is no iniquity, but of a penitent sinner, whose mouth freely confesses the iniquity of them both, confesses without any reserve or the least attempt to palliate ; which, instead of invalidating, corroborates my aigument. since, according to your own allegation, the highest merit consists in a free acknow- ledgment of sin, or a total renunciation of all worthiness. Ther. When, therefore, we join repent- ance to all our other works, lament our de- ficiencies, and implore forgiveness, surely this must be available with a merciful God, and cannot but entitle us to the happiness of heaven. Asp. How strange does it sound, at least in my ears, for poor miserable guilty crea- tures, to talk of entitling themselves to the happiness of heaven by any deeds of their ovm ! when it is owing wholly to God's rich forbearing mercy, that they aie not transmitted to hell ; owing wholly to God's free preventing grace that they are enabled to think a good thought. But not to enlarge upon this considera- tion, I would ask, whether those peniten- tial exercises were attended with a hearty detestation of sin, and an utter abhorrence of the sinner? (Ezek. xxxvi. 31.) If they were, you would then renounce yourself universally. You would never think of placing the least dependence on any thing of your own, nay, you would even loathe yourself. If they were not, then your very repentance falls short, and is to be repented of. It is as if " one came to the press-fat for to draw out fifty vessels, and there were but twenty." (Hag. ii. 16.) It is, if I may continue the prophet's metaphor, and the prophet's language, " the scant measure, which," in this your spiritual traffic, as well as in the affairs of secular commerce " is abominable." (Micah vi. lO.) Or, should your repentance be without a failure and without a flaw, I must still say to my friend, as our Lord replied to the young ruler, "one thing thou hickest." In all these acts of humiliation, you have only taken shame to yourself, whereas a right- eousness is wanting which may magnify the law and make it honourable. Should God, without insisting upon this, pardon and reward, he would not act according to his glorious character, nor be at once "a just God and a Saviour." (Isaiah xlp. 21.) And if you can find this righteousness, " either in the depth, or in the height above ;" in any person or any object, save only in the imputed obedience of our Lord Jesus Christ, I retnict whatever I have ad- vanced. Ther. A preacher and an author has lately assured us, that we are to be " accept- ed of God, and saved by our own obedi- ence." If so, I need not scruple to repeat my assertion, that our own duties, especially when accompanied with repentance, are a real and proper foundation for life etenial. Asp. Then the apostle was under a great mistake, when treating of Christ and his merits, he ventured to assert, " other foun- dation can no man lay, save that which is laid, even Jesus Christ." (1 Cor. iii. 1 1.) Ther. If vou will not credit a modem DIALOGUE Vir. '225 preacher, I can produce a decision, made by one of the most ancient and authoritative synods : " Then hath God also to the Gen- tiles granted repentance unto life." (Acts xi. 18.) Repentance unto life is their unanimous voice, and my unexceptionable voucher. Asp. I can easily guess the assembly to which you refer. But I can hardly grant it the venerable name of a synod. It con- sisted of some Judaizing converts, who adhered with a tenacious and bigoted zeal to the Mosaic rites. However, though I might scruple my Tlieron's appellation, I readily acquiesce in their determination. It is not said, those Gentiles were peni- tent, and therefore God granted them life. This should have been the language of the assembly, in order to establish my friend's way of thinking. On the contrary, they were dead in sin. God, of his free good- ness, granted them repentance, which is both the beginning and a substantial part of true life, even of that life which is founded on justification, is carried on by sanctification, and completed in glory. I would farther observe, that repentance is a turning of the heart. And when it is repentance luito life, it is a turning of the heart from every other object, to the great and sole fountain of good, Christ Jesus. (Acts xix. 4.) — Were men slaves to sensu- ality ? When they repent, they are turned to Christ, for refined and heavenly affec- tions. Were they wont to confide in them- selves and their own works ? As soon as they truly repent, they turn to Christ for a better righteousness ; and thereby, for everlasting acceptance with God. In short, they tm'n from every false stay, and fly only to Christ, depend only on Christ, look- ing not to their own tears of humiliation, not to their own duties or graces, but " look- ing for the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ luito eternal life." (Jude 21.) Ther. Suppose it should be wrong to expect such a vast reward, as the inconceiv- able glories of heaven, on account of our own duties, yet to set them wholly aside, to allow them no influence at all, not so much as the least co-operation in tui-ning the scale ; this is an access on the other hand. If the former is presumption, the latter is fanaticism. Asp. I must confess, I do not thoroughly understand what you mean by fanaticism. Neither is it of much significancy to enter upon the disquisition of an obnoxious term. I would only maintain, that on us unworthy sinners, whatever is bestowed by the right- eous God, is bestowed, not as a debt* to our works, but as the donation of pure grace. Ther. I think, it is sufficiently of grace, if we acknowledge good works to be wrought by the assistance of the divine Spirit ; and then admitted, together with our Saviour's merits, as a recommendation to the divine favour. Asp. The Pharisee could make his ac- knowledgments for the assistance of grace : "God, I thank thee," was his language. Yet this did not exempt him from the charge of pride, nor secure him from the sin of boast- ing. Besides, if good works are wrought by the operation of the divine Spirit, they draw a bill upon our gratitude, not upon the bank of heaven ; they render us the obliged, not the deserving party. To think or teach otherwise, is errant popery,* however it may lurk under a veil of Protestantism. You bring to my mind a memorable stoiy. Two persons were travelling through the deserts of Arabia- The one utterly unarmed, the other wore a sword and car- ried a musket. As the place was exceed- ingly dangei'ous, the latter, solicitous for the safety of his companion, makes him a present of his firearms ; which was no sooner done, than a lion espies them, and advances fiercely towards them. The for- most discharges his piece, and wounds their hon'id aggressor. The wound neither kill- ing nor disabling, only enrages the mon- ster. He seizes the unfortunate marksman, and is upon the point to tear him limb from limb. His fellow-traveller flies to his suc- cour, snatches up the carbine, which dropt from the other's hand, and fells the raven- ous beast to the gi-ound ; then, drawing his sword, stabs him to the heart, and rescues his friend. The lion thus slain, they take oflf the skin, which he who slew the lordly savage claims as his own. " No," says his grateful friend, "as you did part of the execution with my weapon, I insist upon half of the shaggy spoil. I expect satisfaction likewise for the loss of my piece, which you broke in the encounter." To obtain both, he com- mences a law-suit against that generous as- sociate, who not only gave him the weapon, but saved the prosecutor from the very jaws of destiuction. Ther. If I had been judge, I should, without much hesitation, have determined such a cause. Instead of costs and da- mages for my plaintifl^, I should have^/ans- mitted the wretch to the pillory. Asp. I believe all the world would ap- plaud your sentence. Only be pleased to remember, that the procedure on which you * Bestotved as a debt, H, I must allow, somewhat like jargon. But perhaps jargon and inconsistency may not be without their propriety in this place, as they tend to show the genius of that doctrine which woiild connect stich contradictory ideas. * Good works, says a champion for the church of Rome, are " mercatura regni coelestis,— tlie price we pay, or the commodity we barter, foe the kmgdom of heaven. 226 THERON AND ASPASIO so justly animadvert, is the very picture of our excessive unreasonableness, if we pre- sume to write ourselves creditors, and the divine Being debtor ; because he has de- livered us from the bondage of corruption, and enabled us to perform the duties of godliness. Theron paused, as somewhat struck by the representation. After a short interval, Aspasio resumed the discourse. Believe me, my dear friend, salvation, both in the root and all its branches, is en- tirely of grace. Or else believe me, for the many cogent testimonies of scripture, which most circumstantially ascertain this great truth. Election is of grace : "• Hav- ing predestinated us into the adoption of children," not on account of human worthi- ness, but, "accordingto the good pleasure of his will, (Eph. 1.-3.) Equally gratuitous is our effectual vocation : " God hath called us with an holy calling, not according to our works, but according to his purpose and grace," (2 Tim. i. 9.) Faith, with all its precious fruits, is owdng to the same cause : " By grace ye are saved through faith," (Eph. ii. 8.) From hence springs justifi- cation, together with all its attendant pri- vileges : "JBeing justified freely by his grace."* This is the origin of regeneration, and every living principle of godliness : " Of his own will begat he us by the word of truth," (Jam i. 18.) The consummation of bliss flows from the same all-supplying source : " The gift of God is eternal life," ( Rom. vi. 23. ) It is, in every respect, a gift, not only wi};hout, but contrary to all desert of ours. — So that the foundation is laid in the riches of grace ; the superstruc- ture is reared by the hand of grace, and when the top- stone is brought forth, when our felicity is completed in the kingdom of heaven, the everlasting acclamation will be, " Grace, grace unto it !" (Zech. iv. 7.) This is that glorious gospel, which hu- man learning could never have discovered ; which carnal reason cannot imderstand ; which the wisdom of this world accounteth foolishness ; which the envy of the devil, and the pride of man, will always oppose. Tlier. What say you to the opinion which Ouranius so strenuously maintains, that we are justified, not by the merits of Christ imputed to us, but by Christ himself form- ed in our hearts ? And Ouranius is none of your proud or carnal people- His writ- ings are remarkable for their strict piety, and his life is as exemplary as his princi- ples- » Rom. iii. 24. Awfsav t»i uvth xH''^'' One of these words might have served to convey the apostle's meaning. But he doubles his asseition, in order to give us the fullest conviction of the truth, and to irnpress us with a sense of its peculiar import- ance; " Freely Ijy his grace." Asp. You know, Theron, I have nothing to do with the persons of men, but with the truths of the gospel. Ouranius, though eminently devout, may be mistaken : And if this is his way of thinking, he quite mis- apprehends the doctrine of grace- What is written in the oracles of scrip- ture? " The Lord justifieth the ungodly," (Rom. iv. 5.) What is implied in the maxim of Ouranius ? He justifieth the holy, the heavenly, the Christ-like. — " A man is justified by faith," (Rom. v. 1,) says the secretary of heaven. He is justified hy works, says the pen of Ouranius : only let them be works of a superior order, such as are internal, spiritual, and wrought by the operation of Christ on the soul. — Accord- ing to this notion, every one is justified by his own love, his own purity, his own zeal. Whereas, an unerring writer has most so- lemnly declared, " that by one man's obe- dience, many myriads of sinners, even all the redeemed world, shall be made righte- ous." (Rom. v. 19.) This notion, I think, is legalism in its greatest subtilty, or highest refinement. It disannuls the merit of Christ, it vacates all imputation, .awHnakes our salvation to con- sist wholly in the work of sanctification. Against which, if you remember, I entered my protest in one of our first conferences.* And now, having ventured to animadvert on the tenets of others, it may reasonably be expected, that I should give an account of my own faith. — " I am justified ; my soul is accepted ; not because Christ has put his laws in my mind, but shed his blood for my sins ; not because I myself am enabled to walk in all godly conversation, but because the Lord Jesus has fulfilled all righteous- ness as my surety." ner. I am for neither of the extremes. The middle way is most eligible. This is what soimd sense approves, and the sacred system authorizes, " Whoso believeth on me," says our Lord, " shall not perish, but shall have everlasting life," (John iii. 13.) " Blessed," adds the beloved disciple, " are they who do his commandments ; that they may have a right to the tree of life ; and may enter in, through the gates, into the city, (Rev. xxii. 14.) Conformably to these texts of scripture, I would neither reject our Redeemer's me- rits nor repudiate good works. As this shady tree, and these cooling breezes, unite their properties, to render our situation agreeable ; so those two causes, acting in conjunction, exalt us to the favour of God, and coHstitute us heirs of heaven. God himself has joined them. And I must urge my remonstiance in our Lord's own words, • See Dialogue II. p. ISO. DIALOGUE VII. 227 " What God hath joined together, let no man put asunder." Asp. Would you then make impotence itself a coadjutor with omnipotence ? does tliis humble the sinner ? does this exalt the Saviour? No: it is a most injurious in- fringement of his mediatorial dignity. In- stead of excluding, it evidently introduces boasting. In consequence of such a sclieme, it would be said by the inhabitants of the heavenly world, " Thanks to our blossed Redeemer for this happiness ! yet not to him only, but to our own righteous- ness also. Can you imagine, that the obedience of Christ is insufficient to accomplish our jus- tification ? Must its efficacy be reinforced by the accession of our works ? And what are these works of ours, that they should enhance the value, the immense value of our Redeemer's ? Maimed, tarnished, worm- eaten things : eaten by the worms of self- seeking, self-admiring, self-love ; tarnished by a thousand vanities, maimed by ten thousand negligences. To join these in commission with our divine Master's right- eousness, would be infinitely more disgrace ful than to tack the beggar's rag on the mo- narch's robe ; would be altogether as need less as to dream of augmenting the sea by the drops of our bucket. Ther. Worm-eaten ? What reason have vou to represent our acts of obedience under this sordid and shameful image ? Asp. I thought you could hardly brook this dispai"aging expression. It is somewhat like petty treason against the dignity of man. My reasons I would postpone to some other opportunity, when if you please we will give the cause a full hearing. At present, to make amends for this vile slander, I will suppose your works to have no defect ; nay to have all the perfection which you yourself could wish. Will you glory on this account? You are too mo- dest, I am sure, to avow or patronize such a practice ; yet, if we say or think concern- ing any attainments of our own, " This is the ground on which I expect to escape con- demnation, and inherit life ;" we do, in the most offensive, though not in the most ex- plicit manner, glory.* Or, will you reckon, that these services, because faultless, are in any degree merito- rious? Let us hear our Lord's decision in the case : " When ye have done," not only some, " but all those things which are com- X. " Omnis causa justitiae et salutis est materia et objectura xau^titriat. Unde apostolus : Namsi Abra- ham ex openbus justificatus est, ex^"^'^" X'^f-'^ y" i. e. Whatever is the cause of righteousness and sal- vation, is a real and proper foundation for glorying. Therpfore the apostle acknowledges, "If Abraham w?'?ju3titiedby works, he hath whereof to glory." Po\u. iv. 2. manded you." And where is the man, or what is his name, who, in any nation, or in any age, has done all that is commanded ? Where shall I find him ? .\ngels, tell me where? Shall I see glories beaming from his brow ? Or trace his footsteps by the rising flowers ? Yet even in such a case, if all this were performed, what shall we say ? We are no better than unprofitable servants ; we have done nothing more than what was our in- dispensable duty to do, (Luke xvii. 10.) And have, on this footing, just the same claim to honours and rewards, as the negro slave, after the despatch of his daily busi- ness, has upon the estate or the wealth of an American planter. TTier. But what say you' to those pas- sages of scripture which I have quoted ? You have given them a hearing, but no an- swer. They, I do insist upon it, expressly assert, therefore incontestably prove, an union of Christ's merit and our own works in the business of salvation. Asp. It is written in the book of Revela- tion, " Blessed are they that do his com- mandments." And wherefore ? Because the obedience of faith is attended with a real blessedness on earth, and demonstrates our title to etenial blessedness in heaven. It is, though not the purchase, yet the evidence of our right to the tree of life. All this I acknowledge. But where, I beseech you, does the scripture join the obedience of Christ and the obedience of man, as mutually conducive to the justifica- tion of a sinner ? The scripture utterly dis- avows such a copartnership, and asserts what our homily expresses, " siurely, there can be no work of any mortal man (be he ever so holy) that shall be coupled in merit with Christ's most holy act."* The scrip- ture steadily declares, that, in this greatest of transactions, Christ is not an accessary, but the principal ; nay that he is all. " Be it known imto you, men and brethren, that, through this" illustrious and exalted " per- son,-|- is preached imto you the forgiveness of sins ; and by him all that believe are justified from all things." Through this person, without any partner or coadjutor. By him ; not by him and our works jointly, but by him solely ; without the concurrence of any other action or any other agent. This was typified by the high-priest, when, on the solemn day of expiation, he went into the tabernacle alone, and made the fi- gurative atonement without any associate, (Lev. xvi. 17.) From all things : by him they are wholly, as well as solely justified ; § Homily on Good Friday. t Acts xiii- 38. Aia tkts, the word man is not in the original. So that I think, " tJiii iiUi.itrioiis mv.\ exalteffperson," is the fullest and most exact trr,ii«- lation. S28 THERON AND ASPASIO. freed from every charge, wlietlier of omis- sion or commission, and rendered, not in part only, but completely acceptable. I hope, therefore, you will no longer con- sider the supremely excellent Jesus as a partial cause of our justification. ■ What would be the consequence, if a person should lix one foot on the bank of yonder river, and rest another on the iluid stream? Ther. He must unavoidably f;ill. Asp. A nd what says our divine instructor to those double-minded Galatians, who Gould not believe themselves safe and com- plete in the merits of Christ alone, but must be seeking some other foundation, on which to repose a share at least of their confidence ? He says, and they are awful words ; they call for my Theron's most serious regard, " ye are fallen from grace." (Gal. V. 4.) Let me entreat my friend to beware of this error. I think it is the prevailing error of our times ; and so much the more dangerous, because it is somewhat specious. To pour contempt upon the blessed Jesus, with the libertines and deists, would be shocking to a mind that retains the least reverence for sacred things. Entirely to set aside the meritorious efficacy of his un- dertaking, with the Arians and the Soci- nians, would be afflictive to a conscience that is impressed with the least sense of sin. "Whereas, to erect our merits on the foundation of Christ's ; to be found in his, yet not renounce our own righteousness ; this is both plausible to our reason, and pleas- ing to oiu vanity ; this seems to honour the divine Saviour, even while it gratifies hu- man pride. But this is an egregrious false hood, and cannot stand : This is an abomin- able idol, and must be laid in the dust. Chnst, like the real mother of the child, will have the whole or none, ( I Kings iii. 26.) the whole — unshared, uiuivalled, mi- dimiuished glory of our salvation. Let me again entreat my dear Theron to beware of this error. It is the main pillar in the Roman heresy, and the master-policy of the Popish Machiavilians. Christ hath merited, that we may merit, is their grand maxim, and their grand delusion. Hence Gome their penances and their pilgrimages, hence the hypocritical mortifications of some, and the extravagant austerities of others ; this enriches their shrines, and fills their cloisters. And to those seminaries of su perstition let it be banished, let it be con- fined. There let them raise their scaflfold ing, and try to enlarge the dimensions of the sky ; there let them kindle their flambeaux and attempt to increase the lustre of the sun. And when they have eflfected this easier task, then will we Protestants fol low their example, and adopt their system ; then will we also think of adding our own righteousness, by way of supplement to tTie dignity and efficacy of our Lord's. Ther. If we are justified wholly by our Lord's righteousness ; if nothing need be added, if nothing can be added to its all- comprehending fulness, what becomes of the generally-received opinion, that Christ obtained for us only a possibility of being saved, or put us into a capacity of acquir- ing salvation. Asp. It will be discountenanced and over- thrown, as extremely dishonomable to the Redeemer, and no less uncomfortable to the redeemed. When Chi-ist procured our par- don, and recovered our title to life, it v.as all his own doing. " Of the people there was none with him," (Isa. Ixiii. 6.) In both cases his work was perfect. Hear his own testimony : " I have finished the work which thou gavest me to do," (John xvii. 4-) Should you want an explication of these words, I refer you to the comment of an apostle ; " He, that is, Jesus Christ, has obtained eternal redemption for us," (Heb. ix. 12.) This was his work, and it is fully executed. He has — he has obtained eter- nal redemption ; and left nothing for his people, but to accept the glorious purchase, and live as becomes the redeemed of the Lord. This truth is written, as with a sunbeam, in the pages of the gospel ; and sounds, as with a voice of thunder, in the songs of heaven. " Salvation to our God," they cry, " that sitteth upon the throne, and to the Lamb," (Rev. vii. 10.) Those saints in glory ascribe the whole — the whole of their salvation they ascribe to the grace of God, and to the blood of the Lamb. Ther. Have not many of our ablest di- vines represented faith, obedience, and re- pentance, as the terms of acceptance ? Christ, according to this account, procured not the blessing itself, but only the grant of easier conditions on wliich it may be enjoyed. Asp. What says that sublime Being who gives the ablest divines all their wisdom ? " My righteous servant shall justify many," (Isa. liii. 11.) not pave the way, or adjust the preliminaries, but despatch the very bu- siness ; " shall justify." The terms of ac- ceptance, for fallen and rebellious man, ' were a full satisfaction to the Divine jus- tice, and a complete conformity to the di- > vine law. These, impracticable by us, were j consigned over to Christ. By him they ' were thoroughly accomplished ; and by this accomplishment of them, he purchased for us all blessings. Among others, he pur- chased the gift of faith, the grace of repent- ance, and ability to yield thankfid, dutiful, evangelical obedience. These, therefore, are very improperly called, the terms which are really constituent parts of our salva- tion. DIALOGUE VII. 229 To sum up all in a word— the whole tenor of revelation shows, that there are but two methods whereby any of the human race can be justified : Either by a perfect obedience to the law, in their own persons ; and then the reward is of debt : " — Or else, because the Siu-etyof a better covenant has satisfied all demands in their stead ; and then the reward is of grace. There is no trimming or reconciling expedient. You may choose either of the two ; but no third is proposed or allowed. Ther. Was there not a difl!erent method for the ancient people of God? Asp. None, Theron. In the state of primitive innocency, a perfect and persever- ing observance of the divine command was the condition of life and immortality. When, by the first grand apostacy, this be- came impossible, a free pardon, and gracious acceptance, through the blessed Jesus, were substituted in its stead. AVTiich economy, like a fountain of life, was opened, when God promised " the seed of the woman to bruise the seiT^eiit's head," (Gen. iii. 2o.) ] t ran hke a salutary ri\'ulet through the antediluvian world ; — continued its progress along the patriarcliial age ; — flowed, in broader streams, under the ]\Iosaic dispen- sation.;— is derived down to us, abundantly enlai'ged, by the coming of Christ, and the ministry of his apostles ; — will be transmit- ted with an increasing spread to the latest posterity ; — nor ever cease to amplify and extend its influence, till, as the fountain is become a river, the river is augmented into an ocean ; and " the knowledge of the Lord" our righteousness " fiU tlie earth, as the waters cover the abysses of the sea," (Isa. xi. 9.) There was, I confess, a diversity in the administration, but no difference in the na- ture, of the blessing. Jesus Christ, how- ever variously manifested, was the " same yesterday," is the same " to-day," wiU be the same " for ever," (Heb. xiii. 8.) as it is the veiy same sun which gleams at early dawn, which shines in the advancing day, and glows at height of noon. j\Iy simile reminds us of the time, and leaves a most important doctrine upon our memories. Suppose we take the admo- nition, and begin to move homeward. Ther. We need be in no huny, Aspasio. IMy watch tells me, that we have half an hour good. Besides, I have something far- ther to allege, and from a very great autho- rity, which seems directly contrary to yom- notion. Asp. Just as you please, Theron. If you choose to stay, I am all compliance with » Rom iv. 4. Pactional debt; founded on the pro- mise of thccn\ enant, not springing from any wortn in the obedience. yoiu" inclination ; and, would truth per- mit, I shoidd be all conformity to your opi- nion. Ther. You know who it is that asks, "What doth the Lord require of thee?" And neither of us need be informed, what it is that the prophet replies ; " Do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly mth thy God, (Mic. vi. 8.) But I want to knov? what you think of this passage. Asp. I think it is absolutely inconsistent with yoiu- scheme. This passage incul- cates humility. But j-our scheme is the very reverse of that amiable virtue. A self- justiciary walking humbly with God, is litUe better than a contradiction in tenns. The Lord has said, " Ye shall be saved by grace."* Your system replies, " No, but by our own works. — It is declared in sciip- tiu-e, " that the gift of God is eternal life." It is implied in my friend's doctrine, that this happiness is the wages of our o\y\\ deeds — " My son shall have all the glory of a sinner's salvation," is the unalter- able decree of the Most High. " We will have a share in the honour," is the language of yoiu- opinion — Look, how wide there- fore is the east from the west ! so remote is such a strain of teaching from the prac- tice of walking humbly with oiu" God. Ther. But consider, good Aspasio ; ha^'e I not the prophet's authority for my opi- nion ? Are not his words expressly on my side? does he not mention those duties of morality and piety as the appointed method of obtaining the di\ane favoiu:. Asp. He mentions, I apprehend, a soli- citous inquiiy ; to which he gives a satisfac- tory answer ; then subjoins a practical im- provement of the whole. The inqimy is expressed in these words : " Wherewithal shall I come before the Lord, and bow my- self before the high God ? Shall I come be- fore him with bumt-oiferings, with calves of a year old ? WiU the Lord be pleased NAith thousands of rams ; \\'ith ten thousands of rivers of oil ? Shall I give my first-born for my transgression, the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul ?" ( Mic. n 7, 8. ) To which it is replied, " He hath showed thee, O man, what is good," for this important purjjose ; namely, the Messiah ; pointed out by all thy sacrifices, and described in the pre- ceding chapter. Atonement for sin, and peace with God, are to be made by a better hand, and in a better way, than thou pro- posest. He " whose outgoings have been from of old, from everlasting," (Mic. v. 2.) He, who is the Son of the highest, and yet » Eph. ii. 5. This text lavs the axe to the very root of spiritual pride, and all self-glorying whatever. Therefore, the inspired writer, foreseeing the Ixick- wardness of mankind to receive it, yet knowing the absohue necessity of its reception, againasserts (vei, 8.) the very same trulh in the very same words. 230 THERON AND ASPASIO. the seed of " her that travaileth ;"' (Mic v. 3.) He has undertaken, and will fully exe- cute, this great office. " And what doth the Lord thy God re- quire of thee ?" What temper, what con- duct, what expressions of gratitude, from his people, who are reconciled through the blood of Christ, and admitted to the bless- ings of the new covenant.* They are to testify their thankfulness, by the alacrity, uniformity, and constancy of their obedi- ence ; or by the conscientious discharge of every moral, social, and religious duty. If this be a true interpretation of the text, instead of establishing, it overturns your cause. — But I have another objection to your method, perhaps more weighty than the foregoing. Tlier. Pray, let me hear it. — I am not so enamoured with my notions, but I can bear to have them censured ; nor so attached to my scheme, but I can relinquish it for a better. Asp. I would illustrate my meaning, by a common experiment in optics. When ob- jects are viewed in a concave speculum, or in the hollov/ of a polished spoon, how do they appear ? Titer. Inverted. Asp. Such is my friend's system of reli- gion. He inverts the order of the gospel : He turns the beautiful building upside downi, and lays that for the foundation which should only be part of the superstructure. Not so the apostle Paul. He, like a wise master-builder, places Christ as the foun- dation-stone, and rears liis edifice of prac- tical godliness on that all-supporting Tuasis. — Examine his epistle to the Romans ; which is unquestionably the completest mo- del of doctrine, and the noblest body of divinity extaTit in the world. He first discovers the depravity of our nature, and the misery of our condition : He then displays the method of our reco- very by Christ, and the blessings freely vouchsafed in his gospel : After which he delineates the offices of morality, and en- forces them by the most engaging motives ; motives drawn from the free unbounded lov- ing-kindness of God our Saviour, and from the rich invaluable benefits of his grace ;f * Thy God i* the phrase. Which denotes an in- terest; implies an appropriation; and is the peculiar language of the covenant — Thy God ; not made so by thy humble walking, but by an act of his own grace, previous to any obedience of thine. — Accordmg to Theron's principles, the prophet should rather have said, "Walk humbly (not with thy God, but) that he may be thy God." t This, I think, is the best platform for an evange- lical catechism. The ruin of man, occasioned by sin — his recovery. eflFected by Christ — his gratitude, to be expressed by way of obedience. — This plan is carried into execution by the Palatinate divines : who have formed upon it, a summary of catechetical instruc- tion, than which I have met with nothing of the kind more clear and satisfactory: more edifynig and ani- mating : more exscty consonant to the benign spirit privilege he plants as the root ; from which duty blooms as the flower ; godliness grows as the fruit. The same order is observed by St. Peter in his very concise, but very accurate map, of the way to heaven : " Elect, according to the foreknowledge of God the Father, through sanctification of the Spirit, unto obedience, and sprinkling of the blood of Christ," (1 Pet i. 2.) First, the evedasting and electing love of the Father — Then, the enlightening and renewing agency of the Spirit ; who testifies of Christ, and applies his death to the soul, purifying the heart by faith ; from whence, as from a fountain of living water, flows true sanctification, and every act of filial obedience, every species of real holiness ; all which, being partly de- fective, and partly polluted, must be sprink- led with the blood of Jesus, and made ac- ceptable by his dying oblation. Ther. Is this the constant method in which the sacred writers represent the gos- pel salvation ? Do they always observe this particular order, in arranging its doctrines and its duties ? Or, is it not an insignificant circumstance which goes first, provided we take in both ? Asp. To observe this order, I am per- suaded, is no insignificant circumstance. It is of great consequence both to our estab- lishment, and to our growth in grace. Is it a matter of indiflerence to the archer whether he send the point or the feather of his arrow foremost ? Can he, in either case hit the mark with equal ease, and equal cer- tainty, I believe, you will find, that the sacred writers, in all their evangelical discourses, invariably adhere to this order. Nay, it took place even under the legal dispensa- tion. When the Lord God published his law from Mount Sinai ; when he wrote it with his own finger, on tables of stone ; how did he introduce the precepts ? how enforce their obsen'ance ? Let us attend to the preamble, which is the language of love, and the very spirit of the gospel -. " I am the Lord thy God, who brought thee out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of bondage," (Exod. xx. 2.) "I have already delivered thee, with a mighty hand, from the most sordid and insupportable slavery. I have promised thee, for thy possession, the delightful country of Canaan, ' a godly heritageof the hosts of nations, (Jer. iii. 19.) Nay, I myself am thy portion ; a God in covenant with thee ; engaged by an invio- lable contract, and with the exertion of all of the gospel, or better calculated to make mankind both holy and happy. This piece the reader may see, together with ajuai'cious, and very valuable exposi- tion of it, in the Latin works of Henricus Altingius, vol. i. quarto. Which, I believe, may be bought for a trifle, yet arc more precious than gold. DIALOGUE VII. SSI my attributes to do thee good. Therefore keep the statutes, the judgments, and or- dinances, which I am now going to esta- blish." Could there be a more winning in- ducement, or a more endearing obligation to obedience? I might point out the same strain running through the exhortations of Moses and the songs of David, the sermons of the prophets and the writings of the apostles. But this I wave, not through an apprehension of its difficulty, only from a fear of prolixity. However, you will not think me tedious if I produce one more instance from the great master of our schools. " For we ourselves were sometime foolish, disobedient, deceiv- ed, serving divers lusts and pleasures, living in malice and envy, hateful, -and hating one another," (Tit, iii. 3 — 8.) Here he sets before us a dismal but exact picture of our depraved and undone condition. Then he presents us with a delightful view of our re- demption, both in its gracious cause and precious effects. " But after that the kind- ness and love of God our Saviour toward man appeared ; not by works of righteous- ness which we have done, but according to his mercy he saved us, by the washing of regeneration, and renewing of the Holy Ghost ; which he has shed on us abundantly through Jesus Christ our Saviour ; that be- ing justified by his grace, we should be made heirs according to the hope of eternal life." Having thus provided for our hap- piness, he then promotes oar holiness. " This is a faithful saying, and these things I wQl that thou affirm cojistantly, that they who have believed in God might be careful to maintain good works -. these things are good and profitable unto men." I make no comment* upon the passage ; because I hope you will commit it, as a noble depositum, to your memory. Your own diligent meditation, accompanied with humble prayer, will-furnish out the best ex- position. Only I would just remark, that the apostle, always consistent, always uni- * Perhaps the reader will give me leave, though .\Bpasio has declined the office, to add a short exposi- tory stricture upon the most distinguished part^ of this very important paragraph. I. We have the cause of our redemption; "not works of righteous- ness which we have done, but the kindness, the love, the mercy of God our Saviour." II. The effects; which are, 1st, Justification — being justified, having our sins forgiven, and Christ's righteousness imput- ed: allthi , without any the least deserving quality in us; solely by his grace, and most unmerited goodnes . 2d, Santification — expressed by the " wash- mg of regeneration, and renewing of the Holy Ghost;" whose influences purify the soul, as the washing of water cleanses the body; and introduces an improvement into all the faculties of the mind, somewhat like that annual renovation and general smile of nature, which the return of spring diifuses over the face of the earth. III. The end and con- summation of all ; "that we should be made heirs of the heavenly kingdom ; and live, now in the as- sured hope, hereafter in the full enjoyment of fter- nnl hfe." form, marshals his thAights with his usual exactness. Good works are not disbanded, nor yet suffered to lead the van, but made to bring up the rear.* When he mentions these fruits of the Spirit, he mentions them, not slightly as matters of small moment, but earnestly, as affairs of great importance. It is his desire and his charge, that all believ ers should be careful ;f have their hearts upon the business ; should use their best contrivance, and exert their utmost endeav- ours, not barely to practise, but to main- tain ; to be exemplary, distinguished, and pre-eminent in the exercise of every virtue, because this virtue, and those works, though not the ground of a reconciliation with God, are amiable in the eyes of all, and honour- able to the Christian profession. They are also a necessary ingredient in personal happiness, and the apparent means of social usefulness. Ther. This view of the evangelical plan is, I must confess, new to me ; and parti- cularly your ordonnance of the epistle to the Romans. Asp. If this be ne^v, perhaps what I am going to advance may be strange. We have been talking about acceptance with God, and debating whether our own good works are the cause of this inestimable blessing. What will you say, if we can perform no good work, till we are interested in Christ, and accepted by God ? Ther. Say ! — that this is razing founda- tions. Asp. It is razing the wrong, the founda- tion falsely so called, which will certainly deceive as many as make it their trust. And is it not prudent, when we are build- ing for eternity, carefully to examine the ground ? Is it not friendly to divert a man from the treacherous sand, and lead him to the unshaken rock ? For this cause I said it once, and for this cause I say it again; that we can perform no good work till we are interested in Christ, and accepted of God. * The same order is observed by St, John, Rer. xiv. 13. " Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord ; fur they rest from their labours, and their works do follow them." Not go before, to open the everlasting doors, and give them admittance into the mansions of joy. But they follow them, when ad- mitted: As tlie robe, which, on a king's coronation day, flows from his shoulders, cannot but accompany him, wheresover he goes. It may be pertinent, on the mention of thi^llustration, just to hint, that as it is not the robe^f state which makes the king; so neither is it the external practice of holiness which makes the Christian. An union with Christ, an in- terest in his merits, and the indwelling presence of his Spirit; these, and nothing short of these, consti- tute the true Christian. Vet, as the royal robe is an attendant on majesty, and distinguishes the monarch ; so practical godliness is inseparable from faith, and adorns the believer. ■f (p^oiT.^ii'n, This is somewhat like that empha- tical expression,, which so often occurs in the Old Testament, nvi'^'? TTD'iTl " ^'^ shall observe to do ; ye shall be very diiii^i nt to fulfil ; ye shall be very rxact in pctformiig." 232 Titer. Produce your reasons, Aspasio. And strong reasons they must be, which are forcible enough to support such an opi- nion. Asp. The case seems to speak for itself. How can a man that is evil do works that are good ? Would you expect to " gather grapes of thorns, or figs of thistles ?" But let us hear what our unerring Teacher says ; " As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself, except it abide in the vine ; no more can ye, except ye abide in me." (John xv. 4.) Nothing can be more express and full to our purpose. But that which follows is far more awful and alarming to our con- sciences. " If a man abide not in me, he is cast forth as a branch and is withered ; and men gather them, and cast them into the fire, and they are burned." (John xv. 6.) From which it appears, that the hu- man heart is never actuated by good tem- pers, that the human life can never be pro- ductive of good works, until a man is in- grafted into Christ, no more than a branch can bear valuable fruit, while it continues in a state of separation from the tree. * It appears also, that persons alienated from Christ are, and all their performances too, like broken, withered, rotten boughs — fit for nothing, but to be committed to the flames, and consumed from the earth. Both they and their sernces, far from being me- ritorious, are, in the estimate of heaven, worthless and despicably mean. The): What ! are all the noble deeds, performed by the advocates for moi'ality and lovers of virtue, worthless in them- selves, and despicable before the supreme Being ? Worthless and despicable (grating words !) only because they are not attended with the peculiarities of your faith ? Can the want of this little circimistance change their nature, and turn their gold into di'oss ? Asp. My dear Theron, call not the cir- cumstance little. It is sufficient, were your works more precious than gold, to debase them into tin, into lead, into dross When the poor shepherd brought you, yes- terday morning, a present of some wood- strawberries, bringing them as an humble expression of his gratitude, they were kindly received. But if he had offered them as a price for your house, or as the purchase of your estate, how should you have regarded them in such a connexioni" No words can THERON ANL> ASPASIO. * This discovers an error which 'is often commit- ted, in our attempts to instructlittle children. What is more common than to tell them, " If they will be fjood, God Almighty will love and bless them." — Whereas, they should rather be informed, "that they are sinners; but that God Almighty has given his .•^on to die for sinners ; and, if they pray to him, he will forgive their sins, will make them holy, make them happy, and bless them with all spiritual bless- ings in Christ." express the disdain you would have con- ceived. When Baniabas presented a sum of money to the apostles, for the supply of their necessities and the relief of indigent believers, (Acts iv. 37,) it was welcome to them, and pleasing to God. But when Simon the sorcerer oflfered his gold to Peter and John ; offering it, not from a principle of faith, but as an equivalent for the Holy Spirit ; not in order to testify his thankfulness, but rather to play the huck- ster with heaven, it was rejected with the utmost indignation. (Acts viii. 20.) I leave my friend to apply the preceding instances. Only let me beg of him to be- lieve, that if my words are grating, they are extorted by the force of truth. If I am obliged to blame what he calls good works, it is, as a great critic blames eloquence, " with the tenderness of a lover." But my censiu-e falls only on their faulty origin and unbecoming aim. Let them spring from the grace of Christ as their source, let them pro- pose the glory of Christ as their end ; then, instead of putting a slight upon them, or giv- ing them a bill of divorce, I would court, ca- ress, and wed them. Whereas, if neither this end be kept in the view, nor that principle operate in the heart, I must persist in ques- tioning the genuineness of their character, nay, in denying the very possibility of their existence. There may be a mimicry of holy actions -. but it is mimicry only ; as empty as the combs made by those wasps, and no better than a flame that is painted. — I have an authority for this doctrine, which I think you will not offer to controvert. Ther. What authority ? Asp. That of our chinch : who declares, in her 13th article ; " Works done before the grace of Christ, and inspiration of his Spirit, are not pleasing to God ; forasmuch as they spring not out of faith in Christ." Faith in Jesus Christ purifies the heart. Till this be done, we have neither disposi- tion nor capacity for holy obedience. Nay, without faith in Christ, o\ir persons are abominable,* our state is damnable, and how can any of our works be acceptable ? Such a one, you say, is honest in his dealings, temperate in his enjoym.ents, cha- ritable to the ])oor. I allow it all. But unless these seeming virtues are referred to the glory of the supreme Jehovah, unless they tiow from faith in the crucified Jesus, they may be acts of worldly policy, of self- ish prudence, of Pharisaical pride — they are by no means a jdeasing oblation to the * " To thedefiledand unbelieving isnothing clean." Tic. i. 15. The apostle joins defiled and nuheliev- ing, to intimate, that without a true belief nothing is clean. The understanding and the conscience are polluted. Both the man and his doings arc impure. DIALOGUE VIII. 233 Lord Almighty.* Nay, instead of being acts of duty, and objects of approbation, they stand condemned in the scripture, and are breaches of the commandment. They stand condemned in that scripture, which declares, " wdthout faith it is impossible to please God." (Heb. xi. 6.) They are breaches of that commandment, which re- quires, " whether ye eat or drink, or what- soever ye do, do all to the glory of God." (1 Cor. X. 32.) Upon the whole, if we will submit to the determination of our established church, or acquiesce in the decision of our divine Mas- ter, we must acknowledge, that there is no such thing as a good work, till we are re- conciled to God, and our persons accepted in his sight. Therefore, to represent our own works as the means of reconciliation and acceptance, is both chimerical and ab- surd. Chimerical, because it builds upon a phantom, and takes for a reality what has no existence : Absurd, because it in- verts the natural order of things, and would make the effect antecedent to the cause. Ther, Before we quit this agreeable retreat, let me ask my Aspasio, what he purposes by running down all those works which are the produce of inward religion, and essential to true holiness : whose excel- lency is displayed in the clearest, and whose necessity is urged in the strongest terms, throughout the whole Bible ? Asp. I am far from running down works which are the produce of inward religion, and therefore may be justly styled, " works of faith, and labours of love." But I would caution my Theron and myself to take care that our works be accompanied with those circumstances which alone can render them truly good. Let them arise from faith, and bear witness to love ; or else we shall have " thistles instead of wheat, and cockle in- stead of barley." (Job xxxi. 40.) I would also persuade my friend, and I would habituate myself, not to repose our confidence in any works whatsoever ; lest they prove a bruised reed, that breaks un- der our weight — or a pointed spear, that pierces us to the heart. AVe shall never be like the church, " who comes up out of the * Might not this observation be made, with great propriety, in our infirmary and other charitable ser- mons? Should not the audience be exhorted to abound in acts of benevolence, from a grateful re- gard to the infinitely-merciful and condescending Je- sus? 2 Cor. viii. 9. Should they not, before all thmgs, be directed to make sure their interest in the Redeemer's merits ? that their persons may find fa- vour, and their alms acceptance. Eph. i. 6. Should they not be admonished, that without this believing application to Christ, whatever they do, whatever they give, is worthless in the eye of their Maker, and will be fruitless to their own souls. Heb. xi. 6. In this respect our Saviour was eminently typified by the Jewish altar; on which every sacrifice, by whom- soever brought, was to be offered, and separate from which no sacrifice, however costly, coiilil be accept- ed. Exod. XX. 2\ ; Levit. xvii. 3, -1. wilderness, leaning upon her beloved," (Cant. viii. 5,) so long as we bolster up ourselves with a conceit of personal right- eousness. This was the error, the fatal error of the Pharisees ; this the film which blinded the eyes of their mind, and sealed them up under the darkness of final unbelief. Besides, my dear Theron, if you expect to be saved by your own duties, you will be loath to see the worst of your condition. To see the worst of your condition, will be a dagger to your hopes, and as death to your soul. You will therefore be inclined to " daub with untempered mortar," (Ezek. xiii. 10.) Instead of acknowledging the deep depravity of your nature, and the num- berless iniquities of your life, you will in- vent a thousand excuses to palliate your guilt ; and by this means erect a wall of partition between your soul and the merits of your Redeemer ; which will be a greater inconvenience, a more destructive evil, than to cut off all supply of provision from an army, or even to intercept the sunbeams from visiting the earth. Tlier. Now you talk of armies, I must observe, that though I have scarce been able to keep my ground, in this argumenta- tive action, I cannot allow you the honour of a victory, as a retreat is very different from a rout. Asp. I would also remark, that my friend has changed the intended plan of our operations ; has almost continually acted upon the offensive ; while my part has been only to sustain the shock. At our next encounter, you may expect to have the or- der of battle reversed. I shall direct my forces to begin the charge. Put yourself therefore in readiness for a brisk attack. Ther. You act the fair enemy, Aspasio, I must confess, in thus giving the alarm, before you make the assault. Asp. This hostility may appear fairer still, when I assure you, that my weapons aim not ai the destruction of your comfort, or the demolition of any valuable interest. Only they would be " mighty through God, to pull down the strong holds" of unbelief, and bring every self-exalting, every rebelli- ous thought, " captive unto Christ," (2 Cor. X. 4, 5,) captive, in a professed sub- mission to his righteousness, as well as a dutiful subjection to his commands. And when such is the tendency of the campaign, it wUl be yoin: greatest advantage to lose the victory ; it will be better than a triumph to acknowledge yourself vanquished. DIALOGUE VIII. Ther. Ovw last conversation ended with a challenge. To decline or delay tlie ac- 234 THERON AND ASPASIO ceptance of it, would look like cowardice in me, and be a piece of injustice to you, Aspasio. Therefore I am now ready to give you all the satisfaction which a gentle- man can demand. Only, as the weather continues hazy, I believe my study must be the place of action. Asp. A challenge, Theron ! Ther. What, Sir ! do you bogle ? would you eat your words, and play the poltroon ? Asp. Perhaps I may have an inclination to follow the example of a brother hero, who ran away from the field of battle just as his comrades were advancing to charge the enemy ; and when called to an account for his behaviour, right vvortliily alleged, that his retreat proceeded, not from any ti- midity of mind, no, but from a concern for the public good ; '' for," quoth he, " if I had been knocked on the head to-day, how should I have been able to fight for my country to-morrow?" You smile, Theron, at my doughty war- rior, and his sage maxim. But, since you have glanced at a certain modish custom, give me leave very seriously to assure you, that, if the afl^air was to be determined by sword and pistol, I should reckon such a conduct, a resolute refusal at least, not at a'l unmanly, but the truly wise and gallant behaviour. For surely it can never be an instance of wisdom, to hazard my life at the mere caprice of a turbulent ruffian, who is a stranger to all the principles of humanity and generosity, but a slave, an abandoned slave to his own ungovernable passions. Surely it can never be an act of real braveiy to expose my person, because some fool- hardy practitioner in the fencing-school is desperate enough to risk his ! The gentle- man, the true gentleman, should exert a becoming dignity of spirit, and scorn to set his welfare on a level with that of an incon- siderate and barbarous bully.* T/ier. But honour, my Aspasio, honour is at stake. Better to lose our life than forfeit our reputation. Better to be in a grave than to be the jest of every coffee- house ; and perhaps pointed at, as we pass the streets, for mean-spirited, sneaking, or, as the gentlemen of the sword so elegantly speak, white-livered animals. Asp. P'orfeit our reputation ! Amongst whom, I beseech you? A few rash and precipitate creatures, the pupils of La * Aspasio calls the person who gives the challenge a bully. And such, notwithstanding all the maxims of fantastical and false honour, he will certainly be found, when tried at the bar of reason or justice. For, if the most impetuous, irrational, and brutal barbarity, is allowed to constitute a bully, he has an indisputable title to the character, who, on account of a mere punctilio, or some slight affront, would destroy a life that might be of !»ervice to society, inight lie a blessing to various relatives, and is inti- )nalcly connected with a blissful or miserable immor- tality. Mancha's knight ; the sons of chimera* and cruelty ; whose applause is infamy ; and their detraction the highest praise they can bestow. From every judicious and worthy person, your conduct will be siu-e to gain approbation, and your character esteem. When Caesar received a challenge from Antony, to engage him in single combat, he very calmly answered the bearer of the message : " If Antony is weary of life, tell him, there are other ways to death, besides the point of my sword." Who ever deem- ed this an instance of cowardice ! All ages have admired it as the act of a discreet and gallant man ; who was sensible of his own importance, and knew how to treat the pe- tulant and revengeful humour of a discon- tented adversary with its deserved contempt, Barely to lose our life, is the smallest of those evils which attend this mischievous practice. It is pregnant with a long, an almost endless train of disastrous conse- quences to parents, wives, children, friends, associates, and the community. It is an infallible expedient to be deprived of the favour of the infinite God, and to be ex- cluded from the joys of his eternal king- dom. It is the sm'e way to become an ob- ject of abhorrence to the angels of light, and be made the laughing-stock of devils, in their dungeons of darkness.f Shame, ever- lasting shame, shall be the reward of such gallantry, " the promotion of such fools." (Prov. iii. 35.) Ther. With regard to this point, I am entirely of your opinion, Aspasio, however I may dilTer in other particulars. Asp. Say you so, Theron ? Would you then tamely submit to affronts, insults, and injuries ? TTier. As to the trifling aflfronts of a peevish, incontinent tongue, I would treat them with a superior scorn. And when thus treated, they are sure to recoil, with the keenest edge, and severest weight, upon the impotent malicewhich offers them- The wretch should see, that I could pity his miseiy, and smile at his folly. But as * This kind of gentry are styled, in a book, with which they have little or no acquaintance, but whose maxims will be had in reverence when their names are lost in oblivion, IIK^UD " the sons of bluster, or the children of noise." Jer. xlviii. 45. t " Let me tell you with confidence," (says an ex- cellent person, addressing himself to one of these un- happy desperadoes) that all duels, or single combats, are murderous: blanch them over (how you list) with names of honour and honest pretences, their use is sinful, and their nature devilish." .See the se- lect works of Bishop Hall, in one volume folio, i)age 526, where the reader will find a happy mixture of true oratory and sound divinity; a rich veinof fnncy, and a sweet spirit of piety ; contemplations upon the histories of scripture (which, I think, are our pre- late's master-piece) almost as entertaining and in- structive, as the subjects illustrated are important and wonderful. Notwithstanding a few stiff or an- tique phrases, I cannot but esteem the works of this author amongst the most valuable compositions ex- tant in our language. DIALOGUE Vllr. iW5 to iiij lilies, tbe case is othenvise. Should any one Hssault my person, it is at his peril. He would find, and perhaps to his smart, Et nos tela manu, ferrumcjiie baud debile dextra Spargimus, et nostro sequitur de vulnere sanguis. ViBG. Here the fundamental and everlasting law of self-preservation calls upon us to play the man. And I am sure, Christianity does not require us to yield our throats to the knife, or open. our breasts to the dag- ger. But to retire to deliberate, to sit down and indite a formal challenge, seems to me al- together as savage and iniquitous, as to as- sault on the highway. He that demands my money on the road, or extorts it by an incendiary letter, or decoys me into the snare by a forged and counterfeit note, is stigmatized for a villain, is abhorred by every person of integi-ity, and when detected is rewarded with a halter. Why should we reckon the headstrong bravo less in jurious, who makes his attempt upon my very life, and thirsts with insatiable fury for my blood ? Asp. He allows you a fair chance, it is said. TJier. A chance ! Of what ? Either of falling a sacrifice to his rage, or of imbru- ing my hands in his blood. Which is nei- ther more nor less than reducing me to a ne- cessity of launching into damnation myself, or of transmitting a fellow-creature to eter- nal vengeance. And is this an extenuation ? this a mitigating circumstance ? It really proves the practice so inexcusably wicked, that nothing can be pleaded in its defence. The very argument used to justify the hor- rid deed, inflames its guilt, and aggravates its malignity. It is a pity but the legislative authority would interpose fcJr tbe suppression of such a flagrant wrong to society, and such a no- torious violation of our benign religion. Why should not the laws declare it felony to make the first overture for a duel ? Since it is always more heinous, and frequently more pernicious — is alwajs murder in the intention, and frequently issues in double destruction ; the one inflicted by the stab of violence, the other executed by the sword of justice. Might it not, at least, be branded with some mark of public infamy, or subjected to a severe pecuniary mulct ? so that a gentleman of spirit and temper might have it in his power to return the compliment of a challen^ng letter with some such an- swer:— Sir, " However meanly you may think of your life. I set too high a value upon mine, to exj)0se it as a mark for undiisciplined and | i'miiending deatii outrageous passions. Neither have I so totally renounced all that is 'humane, bene- volent, or amiable, as to draw my sword for your destruction, because you have first been overcome by precipitate and unreason- able resentment. You have given me an opportunity of acting the gentleman and the Christian. And this challenge I accept, as a note under your hand for five hundred pounds ;* which will very soon be de- manded according to law, by. Sir, " Yoiurs, &c." Asp. But to resume the proper subject, the nature of our engagement ; which I now recollect, and which was explained when I ventured to give what you call the chal- lenge. As it is not my Theron, but the obstacles of his faith, and the enemies of his felicity, that I am to encounter, perhaps I shall have courage to stand my ground ; and, instead of violating all the obligations of equity, honour, and conscience, I shall certainly evidence my love to my friend, may possibly promote his truest good. Ther. I do not see how this can be ef- fected by your late attempt. You under- took to run down all works of righteous- ness as absolutely imable to find acceptance with God, and equally insufficient to re- commend us to his favour. It is for the credit of these, which Aspasio has depre- ciated, that I enter the lists. Asp. Pray, what is the standard to which these works of righteousness must be con- formed, and by wliich their sufficiency may be determined ? TTier. The moral law, doubtless ; I know no other standard of righteousness, nor any other way of becoming righteous. Asp. You will, I hope, ere long be ac- quainted with another way. At present, I agree to your proposal. We will join issue on this footing, and try the merits of our cause before this tribunal. Yourself shall be the judge. I will only ask your opin- iouj and refer myself to yoiu- decision. You see, I am soon weary of the military style. I had obtruded myself on a part which I was not qualified to act, and Jiow resimie a more becoming character. Ther. If you place me on the bench, I * Might not the refuser of a challenge be dignified with some honorary distinction, resembling the civic crown amongst the ancitnt Romans ; since, by his cool and temperate bravery, he saves one life from the sword, another from the halter ? -Was some ho- norary distinction, on the one hand, united to a pe- cuniary forfeiture on the other, I cannot but think they would prove an effectual method to check the progress of this destructive evil. It would break the teeth of malice with her own weapons, and turn the artillery of revenge upon herself. Those detestable passions would be loath to indulge themselves in this horrid manner, if it was made the sure way to en- noble and enrich the object of their rage.— N.B. The civic crown was an ornament assi^ed to those sol- diers who had in battle rescued a tellow-citizen from 2:5(5 THERON A^D ASPASIO. shall iillow of no such digressions, but shall keep you close to the subject. Asp. Has your Lordship then considered the nature of the divine law, and the extent of its obligations ? Ther. It obliges all persons, and com- prises the whole duty of man. It forbids all immorality, and enjoins every viitue Are not these your sentiments ? Asp. They are, when somewhat enlarged. — The empire of the law, as prohibitory of evil, extends both to the outward and in- ward man. It takes cognizance of the ac- tions ; it judges every word. All the ope- rations and all the dispositions of the soul come under its sacred jurisdiction. It is indeed a discerner, not only of the working thoughts, but also of the dawning inten- tions ; and arraigns them both at its awful bar. " It pierces even to the dividing a- sunder of the soul and spirit." (Heb. v. 12.) Not the inmost recesses of the breast are too deep for its penetration, nor all the artifices of the deceitful heart too subtle for its detection. Other laws forbid the un- clean art ; this condemns the wanton eye, and irreguLir desire. Other laws punish the injurious deed ; this passes sentence on the unguarded sallies of passion, and the most secret emotions of resentment. So eminently true is that remark of the Psalm- ist, " thy commandments are exceeding broad." (Psalm cxix. 96.) Tell me now, Theron, has your obedience been commen- surate to this extensive platform of duty ? Ther. If the law be so \evy extensive — Asp. Nay, my friend, you cannot sus- pect, that I have stretched, to an undue ex- tent, the obligations of the divine law, since this interpretation is established by an au- thority too great to be controverted, too clear to be misunderstood — even by the authority of Christ himself; whose sermon upon the mount is a professed exposition of the commandments, and maintains in the most explicit manner all that I have ad- vanced. So that if our Lord's exposition is just, I think it will be neither rash nor uncharitable to say, there is not a man upon earth but has broke them all. T/ter. Are we all idolaters then ? all adulterers ? all murderers ? Shocking to imagine ! Asp. It is shocking, I confess. But how much more so, if such delinquents ex- pect justification by their own deeds ? Ther. This is no proof of your assertion, my good friend. Asp. To be fond of gold, to be enamour- ed with the world, to love any creature more than the ever-blessed Creator, are in- stances of idolatry, ( Col. iii. 5; Phil. iii. 19,) not quite so gross, but altogether as real, as to set up idols in our temples, or pay acts of adoration to senseless imager. Have you always been free from this apos- tacy of the affections ? Our infallible Teacher has informed us, that unreasonable anger, contemptuous lan- guage, and malevolent wishes, (Matt. v. 22,) are each a species of murder, and not many removes from the assassin's deadly stab. Have you been always meek, always bene- volent, and never chargeable with this men- tal homicide ? We are farther assured, that the indul- gence of inordmate desire is, in the impar- tial estimate of heaven, as the commission of the impure deed. (Matt. v. 28.) And evil concuj)isccnce of every kind violates thac sacred precept, " Thou shalt not covet."* Has your will been invariably up- right, and warped with no irregular inclina- tion ? aie j'ou wholly impoUuted with this adultery of the heart ? I wait not for a reply. I have often heard you plead guilty to all — yes, to all and every of these charges respecti\'ely. TTier. Where, and when, Aspasio ? Asp. In the most sacred place, and on the most solemn occasion. And not you only, but a whole multitude of self-con- demned criminals. Our church, you know, has ingrafted the decalogue into her public service ; and taught all her members to an- swer, after the repetition of each command- ment, " Lord, have mercy upon us, and incline our hearts to keep this law." Is there any sense in these words ? or have we any meaning when we utter them ? If we have, surely they must imply an ac- » Rom. vii. 7. Aspasio's observation Ijrings to my remembrance a remarkable incident ; which, as it is quite pertinent to our purpose, the reader will allow me to relate. It passed between a friend of mine, and a certain ingenious stranger, into whose company he happened to fall. The gentleman was extolling, at an extravagant rate, the virtue of honesty ; what a dignity it imparted to our nature! how it recom- mended us to the Supreme Being ! he confirmed all by a celebrated line from Mr. Pope. " An honest man's the noblest work of God." Sir, replied my friend, however excellent the virtue of honesty may be, I fear, there are very few men in the world that really possess it. Vou surprise me, said the stranger. Ignorant as I am of your charac- ter, Sir, I fancy it would be no difficult matter to prove even you a dishonest man. 1 defy you. WiW you give me leave, then, to ask you a ([uestion or two, and promise not to be offended? Ask your questions, and welcome. Have you never met with an opportunity of getting gain by some unfairmeans? The gentleman paused. 1 do not ask, whether you made use of, but whether you have met with such opportunity? I, for my part, have; and 1 believe every body else has. Very probably I may. How did you feel your mind afftcted, on such an occasion ? Had you no secret desire, not the least inclination, to seize the advantage which offered ? Tell me, without any evasion, and consistently with the character you admire. I must acknowledge 1 have not always been absolutely free from every irregular inclination, but— Hold, Sir, none of your salvos. You have con- fessed enougli. If you had the desire, though you never proceeded to the action, this shows you was dishonest ni heart. This is what the scripture calls concupiscence. It defiles the soul. It is a breach of that law, which "requireth truth in the inner parts;" and, unless vou are pardoned through the blood of Christ, will be a. just ground of yo»ir condemnation, " whtn God shall judge the secrets of mm." DIALOGUE VIII. 237 kiiowledgnient of disobedience in every par- ticular. Tlie criminal arraigned at the bar never falls on his knees, and craves foi- giveness, till he either confesses or is con- victed. This then must be the purport of our response. " We are verily guilty con- cerning this thing. And we humbly im- plore, both pardoning mercy for the past, and strengthening grace for the future." Give me leave to urge my question a little farther. Is there a single day in which you have not transgressed, some way or other, this sacred rule ? Ther. If the law of God will dispense with no deviation, not even the first starts of thought, or the least wanderings of de- sire— But surely to affirm this, is to extend the law beyond all reasonable bounds. The motions of evil desire, if indulged, are un- doubtedly criminal. But are they also, when restrained, breaches of duty ? I should rather imagine, that such temptations are thrown in our way for the trial of our obe- dience— which, had they no power over our affections, would not be trials ; and when they are resolutely withstood, cannot be faults. Asp. AVhat was the judgment of our re- formers ? And what is the voice of our church ? We may find both in the ninth article. " Although there is no condemna- tion for them that believe and are baptized, yet the apostle doth confess, that concupis- cence and lust bath of itself the nature of sin." It is not said, concupiscence hath then only the natiu-e of sin when it is ripen- ed into action ; but of itself, and before it breaks out into the commission of iniquity. Of itself it is contrary to the pure nature, and therefore cannot but be condemned by the perfect law of God. Ther. This I can truly plead in my own behalf, that it has not been customary with me to offend ; at least not presumptuously, or of deliberate wickedness. Asp. My dear Theron, do not offer to palliate your guilt. Such an opiate may stu- pify, but will not cure ; or rather, like opiates ill prepared, it will intoxicate the mind, and counteract the operation of eveiy healing medicine. Besides, it is not only pernicious, but false and unreasonable. You know the use of that solar microscope, and are able to inform me of its effects. Ther. I ought to be pretty well acquaint- ed with these experiments ; since it has long been my favourite diversion to employ a few spare hours in such agreeable specu- lations. Asp. You have seen the body of an in- sect, accommodated to the surprising in- strument. When, in this situation, the animal was pricked by a very fine needle, your eye, your naked eye, just perceived the puncture, and discovered, perhaps a speck of moisture oozing from the orifice. But in what manner were they represented by the magnifying instiiiment? Ther. The puncture was widened into a frightful gash ; the speck of moisture swell- ed into a copious stream, and flowed like a torrent from the gaping wound. An ox, under the saci'ificing knife, scarce looks more bulky, or bleeds more largely. Asp. Do you not apprehend my design ? — If we, short-sighted mortals, and almost blinded with self-love ; if we cannot but be sensible of our faults, how flagrant must they appear, in what enormous magnitudes, and with what aggravating circumstances, to an eye perfectly pure and infinitely penetrat- ing ! Instead of attempting to extenuate our offences, let us make some such improving reflections : " If this holy law, which pro- hibits the minutest failure, from the indict- ment ; if this all-discerning God, who sifts our conduct even to the smallest defect, be the judge; if our personal goodness, which abounds with imperfections, be our pica ; what can we expect at that decisive hour, when the Lord shall "lay judgment to the line, and righteousness to the plummet ?" (Isa. xA'iii. 17.) Surely, this consideration should incline us to adopt the wise and ar- dent wish of the apostle, " That we may" now, in this our day, "win Christ, and" at the last tremendous audit, be " found in him ; not having our own righteousness, which is of the law," for the foundation of our hopes, " but the righteousness which is of God, by faith in Jesus Christ." (Phil, iii. 8, 9.) Consider the law in its nobler capacity, as enjoining whatever is excellent. Can you hope, Thereon, to be justified by it, if you fall short of its demands, not barely in a few instances, but in every action of your life, and every temper of your heart ? Ther. Such a hope, cherished amidst such circumstances, would be ftdlacious and ab- surd. But I trust, I am not so very faulty, or rather so entirely abandoned, as your in- terrogatory supposes. Asp. Have you duly weighed the perfec- tion and spirituality of the divine law ? It is a transcript of the imspotted purity and absolute rectitude of the divine nature. It requires an unreserved obedience to all God's commands, and a most unfeigned submission to all his dispensations ; with- out regretting the former as a grievous yoke, or repining at the latter as rigorous treat- ment. It calls, not only for external duty, but also for the most upright imaginations, and devout affections. Nay, it insists upon the exercise of every virtue, and that in the highest degree : love to God, without the least lukewarmness, and love to all our neighbours, without any unkindness ; a 238 THERON AND ASPASIO. sanctity of desire, that knows no stain, and a humility of mind that is free from all elatement. In a word, it requires us to be perfect, " even as our Father which is in hea- ven is perfect."* Do any of your actions come up to this exalted standard ? Are any of your graces thus refined ? Ther. Ami then absolutely an insolvent before the great Lord of the universe? Have I no lamb in my fold v>ithout a ble- mish ? nothing in my life, nothing in my heart, but what is defective and defiled ? Asp. Indeed, my friend, this is not your condition alone, but the condition of the most irreproachable person on earth. There is none perfect, in any character, or in any work, no not one. None that obeys the divine law, uniformly, invariably, and com- pletely. Cast your eye upon the names which are subjoined to those beautiful prints. How elegant is the engraving ! How accurate are the letters ! The strokes most delicate- ly fine ! Their shape most exactly true ! Let me ask you to transcribe them with your j)en ; and make the copy equal to the original. Preserve aU the noble boldness of the Roman stamp, and all the graceful softness of the Italian touch. What ! could you not execute this task, even in your pre- sent unimpaired health, and with the exer- tion of all your skill ? How shamefully then must you fall short, if your eyes were dim with age ; if your hands shook with a paralytic disorder, and your understanding was oppressed with a lethargic dulness ! Such is really the case with regard to all the children of men. Our nature is de- praved ; our moral abilities are enervated ; and our intellectual faculties clouded. And can we, in such a state of impotence, tran- scribe that sacred system, which is the very image of God — transcribe it into our tem- pers, and render it legible in our lives, with- out diminishing one jot or tittle of its per- fect purity. Ther. Though I fall short, there are Christians of a much higher class ; Christ- ians, I do not doubt, who have these laws written on their hearts, all whose tem- pers are tast into this heavenly mould. « Mat. V. 48. Our Lord, having explained several commandments of the law, sums up the whole, and gives us the spirit of them all, in this most refined precept ; " Be ye perfect, even," &c. If the reader pleases to take this passage into consideration, he will nave a more satisfactory answer to Theron's objec- tion, conceniingthe first motions of evil desire; more satisfactory, I mean, than was suggested in the pre- ceding pages. There the reply turned upon human testimony ; here it rests upon divine authority. I hope, the candid reader will, on other occasions, remember this observation. And if, at any time, the strongest reasons are not assigned, let him suppose it probable, that they are omitted in one |)lace, only to he introdiiccd and urged, perhaps with greater advan- Rge, m another. Nor am I myself without hopes of niakinj? more considerable advances in holiness. Asp. May yoiu- hopes be quickened into vigorous endeavours, and your endeavours be crowned with abundant success ! What you suppose concerning very eminent Christians, I cannot wholly admit, neither do I wholly deny. They may have all their tempers cast into the heavenly mould ; but then they are conformed to the sacred pattern only in part. There is a resem- blance, yet not such as that clear and steady mirror (pointing to a fine glass over the chimney-piece) exhibits, but such as some turbident and muddy stream reflects. If the breasts of these eminent Christians vi'ere formed on the model of Drusus'* house, I verily think you would have a lower opinion of their acquisitions and vir- tue. David, whom God himself dignifies with the most exalted of all characters, and " styles a man after his own heart ;" who to a most inflamed love added a most accu- rate knowledge of the divine testimonies, was deeply sensible of the truth I would inculcate. After an attentive contempla- tion of the sublimity, the extent, the sancti- ty of those heavenly institutes, he breaks out into this humbling exclamation, " Who can tell how oft he ofFendeth?" ( Psalm xix. 12.) " Was the most vigilant conduct, or the most purified soul, examined by this consummate rule, innumerable would be found the slips of the former, and glaring would the failures of the latter appear." Ther. I cannot see the reason for de- grading human nature to such an extrava- gant degree, and ranking human works among the refuse of things. Asp. Do you ask the reason of this re- monstrance ? It is to preserve us from the mischievous error of the Pharisee, who, measuring himself, not by the true, sub- lime, and extensive sense of the law, but by a false, debased, and mutilated interpre- tation, became haughty in his own conceit, and abominable in the sight of God. Hear him trumpeting his own praise : " I am no extortioner, no adulterer." (Luke xviii. 11.) This the poor vain creature fancied was a sufficient obedience paid to the second table. See him still strutting in his own imaginary plumes :f " 1 fast twice in the * When Drusus, a noble Roman, was deliberating upon a model for his new house, the architect offered to build i t in such a taste that no eye should overlook any of his rooms. " Vou quite mistake my inclina- tion," said Drusus, " I am for the reverse of your plan. I would have my house so contrived that every passenger may see whatever is transacted within." \ This seems to give the genuine signification of TO v^l^n^ov sv ccfS^co'Tois, Luke xvi. 15, not "that which is'highly esteemed," svt(^»' 'v^i^ov. The proposition, taken in this sense, is neither necessary nor uuivCT'sally true. The meeUncis of Moie<>, (!'.? DIALOGUE VIII. ZHi) week ; I give tithes of all that I possess." (Luke xviii. 12.) This he foolishly dream- ed was a due compliance with the demands of the first table. The young ruler seems to have been under the same delusion, when he had the assurance to declare, " all these things," which are prescribed by the divine law, "have I kept from my youth up." (Matt. xix. 20.) A more pestilent opinion it is scarce pos- sible for the mind of man to entertain, and nothing can appear more egregiously mis- taken, if we consider the vast comprehen- sive scope of the sacred precepts, and are convinced that they require a most exact conformity, in every particular and every punctilio. Ther. Is there nothing valuable, then, in regidarity of conduct and integrity of heajt ? nothing valuable in our acts of charity, and habits of virtue ? nothing whatsoever that may recommend us to our Maker ? Asp. From our fellow- creatures they stand entitled to respect, imitation, and gra- titude ; but before infinite perfection, they must drop their claim, and lie prostrate in the dust, imploring forgiveness, nof chal- lenging a reward. We all discern a beautj' and a twinkling lustre in the stars, when viewed under the shades of night. But when the magnificent source of day arises, their beauty vanishes, their lustre is dark- ness. Such are human accomplishments when compared with the perfect law, or beheld by the piercing eye of the supremely glorious God. Titer. Methinks this notion confounds the difference of good and evil and by ren- dering all our actions blamable would ren- der them all alike. This is levelling with a witness ! Asp. It only shows, that there are ble- mishes in all ; whereas, some are flaw and blemish all over. Is there no difference between the leopard's spots, and the raven's foot? If I maintain that neither of those animals are perfectly white, does this imply that both are equally black ? All we perform, however specious it may seem, is very far short of our elevated nile ; therefore cannot procure the divine fa- vour, or entitle us to the kingdom of hea- ven. Nay, if God should enter into judg- ment with us, on the foot of our owti per- formances, he woidd discover such defects, even in the choicest instances of our obe- dience, as must render them matter of con- demnation,* not meritorious of applause. fortitude of Joshua, the wisdom of Solomon, were highly esteemed among those very men to whom our Lord addressed his discourse ; yet none can suppose, that the endowments of those illustrious personages were " an abomination in the sight of God." "To this assertion St. Cyril bears a very express testimony : " Even those of our actions which seem to be performed in a right manner, could not escape Be pleased to observe this penknife — . What can be more exquisitely keen than the edge, or more nicely polished than the blade ; but how do they appear when be- held through one of those microscopes ? , Tfier. The edge less sharp than the woodman's axe, or rather more blunt than his iron wedge. The polish resembles a mass of coarse metal, rudely hammered on the anvil. Asp. How very delicate is the cambric, which forms your ruffles, and gives such an ornamental air to your whole dress ! No- thing can be finer than the threads, or more exact than the textiu-e. But what is their appearance in a microscopic view ? Ther. You would take the line threads for hempen cords ; and would almost be positive, that they had been wattled toge- ther by the clumsy hands of the hurdle-ma- ker, rather than curiously wove in the ar- tist's loom. Asp. That lovely piece of enamel, which makes a part of your lady's pensile equipage, quite charms the spectator with the just- ness of its figure, and the radiancy of its colours. But — Ther. Under the scrutiny of this search- ing instrument it loses all its elegance ; ajid instead of winning oiu- admiration, provokes our contempt. It looks like a heap of mor- tar plastered on by the mason's trowel. Asp. You see then, Theron, what gross indelicacies, what bimgling inequalities, this supplementary aid to our sight discovers, even in the most finished works of human art. So, and abundantly more, does the immaculate purity of God discern imper- fections in our most upright deeds and most guarded hours. I said immaculate, and I ought to have said more ; for God is not only unerringly wise to detect, but infinitely pure to abhor, all contamination. Angels, and the spirits of just men made perfect, are endowed with immaculate, but the Lord is possessed of in- finite purity. Have you cunsidered this attribute of the Godhead, Theron ? Ther. I have ; and not without amaze- ment at the charming, the awful descrip- tions of it, which occiu" in the sacred writ- ings. God is not only holy, but, as the lawgiver of the Jews veiy sublimely ex- presses himself, " glorious in holiness," Exod. XV. 11. The sacred penmen, treating of this illustrious perfection, seem to la- bour the important point. They indulge the loftiest flights of imagination : they employ the boldest figiu-es of speech ; and add the most glowing colours of eloquence ; not without frequent acknowledgments, that all the force of language is abundantly too feeble for the unutterable subject. censure and blame, if God should examine and bring them to the test." 240 THERON AND ASPASIO. One of the proiihets, addressing the King eternal, immortal, invisible, breaks out into this ecstatic exclamation : " O Lord, my God, my Holy One, thou art of purer eyes than" (to allow, shall I say ? Tliis is an ascription of praise unspeakably too mean for thy surpassing excellency : Thou art of purer eyes than) " to look upon evil, and canst not behold iniquity," ( Hab. i. 13.) Another, wrapt into a prophetic vi- sion, sees the seraphim veiling their faces in token of profound humiliation ; hears those sons of ai-dour and love, crying in loud responsive strains, " Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God of Sabbaoth!"* Nay, so transcendently holy, says another devout worship])er, that all created glory is totally eclipsed in his presence : " He, looketh to the moon, and it shineth not ; yea, the stai-s are not pure in his sight, (Job. xxv. 5.) * Isa vi. 3. The poets and writers of a bold ima- gination are particularly fond of machinery ; of introducing celestial beings, in order topive some pe- culiar dignity to their plan, or someadditional strength to their sentiments. With what inimitable propriety and surprising emphasis is this species of fine writing used in scripture, especially in the passage quoted above. Let us only consider the personages. These are the seraphim ; pure and active spirits, likened by the psalmist to flames of fire ; styled by the apostle domi- nions and principalities of heaven, who excel in strength and wisdom, in every high and bright accom- plishment. Their attitude. They wait around the King immortal, seated on his exalted throne. They stand; are in a posture of service; with their wings outstretched, ready to fly at the first signal. They stand not with their eyes reverently cast down, but with their faces covered, to denote the deepest self- abasement, as creatures that are conscious and asham- ed of their own meanness, or as overcome with the insupportable glories which beam from uncreated majesty. Their action. They celebrate, not in cold conversation, but with rapturous songs, not with single voices but in a grand choir, (see Psalm Ixxxvii. 5, 6.) the amiable yet tremendous sanctity of the Lord Almighty. Their manner of expression. Though filled and penetrated with the prodigious theme, they attempt not to describe it. Impracticable that, even by the tongue of angels ! They express themselves, therefore, m the language of profound admiration, in repeated, in reiterated acclamations to the wonder- ful attribute ; •' Holy ! holy ! holy !" The effects of this august appearance The posts of the door shake at the voice, — the ponderous and magnificent pillars of brass (see 2 Chron. iii. 17,) treinble like a leaf. The spacious and beautiful house is filled with tokens of the divine indignation; ii involved in clouds of smoke; and joins v;ith the trembling columns, and adormg seraphs, to tell the thoughtless world, " what a fearful thing it is to I'all into the hands of the living God !" The prophet himself is struck with astonish- ment,— is overwhelmed with awe, — and cries out, " as a woman in her pangs." — Can any thing be more enlivened, impressive, and alarming ? If I shall not trespass upon the reader's patience, I would beg leave to add a remark concerning the word Sabaoth, which, though a. Hebrew expression, is re- tained in that excellent hymn entitled Te Deum ; and which some people, I ain inclined to believe, inadver- tently confound with Sabbath. The latter signifies the rest of the seventh day, and in this connexion, yields a sense not very apposite, and comparatively mean. Whereas, the former denotes armies or hosts, and furnishes us with an image truly grand and ma- jestic, worthy to beadmitted into the songs of seraphs. It glorifies God, as the great, universal, uncontrol- lable Sovereign, who exercises a supreme dominion over all the orders of being, from the loftiest arch- angel that shines in heaven, to the lowest reptile that crawls in dust ; who says to a legion of cherubs. Go ; and they go ; — to a swarm of insects. Come ; and they come ; — to any, to every creature, Do this ; and they do it. See Matth. viii. 'J. And "his very angels," those refined and ex- alted intelligences, " he chargeth \\itlj folly." (Job. iv. 18.) Asp. Very majestic descriptions ! And pray let us observe the impressions which such beamings of the divine effulgence made upon the saints of old. Moses, drawing near the cloudy pavilion, the presence- chamber of the Holy One of Israel, says, with emotions of luiconimon dread, " I ex- ceedingly fear and quake !" (Heb. xii. 21.) When Job is favoured with some peculiar manifestations of the omnipotent God, see his posture ! hear his words ! " I abiior my- self, and repent in dust and ashes," (Job xlii. 6.) How strong is the language! how deep the abasement ! When Isaiah saw the incomprehensible Jehovah sitting upon his throne, and the princes of heaven adoring at his footstool, seized with a pang of reve- rential fear, he cried out, " Woe is me ! I am undone ! for I am a man of unclean lips !" (Isa. vi. 5.) When Ezekiel beheld an emblematical representation of him who dwelleth in light inaccessible ; when the Ancient of Hays, veiled under a human shape, ai)j)eared to Daniel ; though one was a devout priest, and each was an eminent prophet, yet, overwhelmed with a mixture of veneration and terror, they both " fell down at his feet as dead," (Ezek. i. 28; Dan. X. 8, 9 ;) and this, not before a full display, but only before a glimpse of the Godhead, which, though partial and tran- sient, was too dazzlingly bright for an eye of flesh to bear. O my friend ! my Theron ! what figure must our mean performances, our low at- tainments, make before this immensely glo- rious God ? Let us examine the behaviour and spirit of Job a little more particularly. He is one of your favourite examples, and indeed very deservedly, fur in piety he had no superior and no equal — '* there was none like him in the earth ;" yet, when he has to do with the Maker of all things, and the Judge of all men, he pours out his abashed soul in these very remarkable professions : " If I justify myself, my own mouth shall condemn ine ; if I say I am perfect, it shall also prove me perverse." — (Job. ix. 20,21, 30, 31, 32.) He declares yet farther, " If I wash myself in snow water, and make my hands never so clean, yet shalt thou," O righteous and eternal God, " plunge me in the ditch ;" manifest me, notwithstanding all this care and circumspection, to be a guilty and filthy creature; yea, so very guilty and filthy, that my own clothes, were they sensible of the pollution, could not but abhor me. This he confesses, not because he was an habitual sinner, or chargeable with any scandalous immorality, but because his mind was tilled with the most aflfecting sense of DIALOGUE VIII. 31 1 God's hiconceivable holiness and infinite glory. " For," adds the venerable sufferer, " he is not a man as I am ;" but a Being of such extensive knowledge that nothing can escape his discernment, of such exalted pu- rity that every spot of defilement is loath some in his sight. For which reason, it is absolutely impossible that I should an- swer him," with reference to my o\\ii per sonal righteousness, or that we should come together in judgment, on any such footing, without confusion to myself, and ruin to my cause. To all this he subjoins, what is stiil more memorable and exemplary. " Though I were perfect, yet would I not know my soul, I would despise my life." He supposes himself in a higher state than your most advanced Chris- tian, " though I were peifect ;" yet even in such a state, were it attainable and attained, " I would not know my soul ;" not dwell upon, not plead, no, nor so much as cherish a thought of, my own accomplishments and acquirements. In the important business of justification, they should stand for c)T)hers ; they should be throwai into shades ; they should entirely disappear. Nay more, " I would despise my life:" my life, with all its most shining actions and most distin- guished virtues, should be reckoned insigni- cant and despicable, just as insignificant and despicable, with respect to this great tran- saction, as a wandering spark would be, if appointed to diffuse day amidst the darkness of night, or produce spi-ingamidst the depths of winter. Titer. These are alarming hints, Aspasio, I must confess. A law which requires an exact and univei'sal obedience, both in heart and life ! A God of such majesty, purity, and glory, that men of the most approved integrity are overwhelmed with confusion in his presence ! I shall consider them at tny leisure with the attention they deserve. At present, I believe opportunity is gi\'ing us the slip. Yonder coach seems to be moving this way, and the livery looks like Philander's. Aspasio, desirous to fix those convic- tions, which are of the last consequence to our faith and salvation — very desirous to fix them on his friend's mind, replied : Asp. As your visitants are at a distance, give me leave to observe, that the wisest of men, attending to the first of these particu- lars, has poured contempt upon all human excellency : " There is not a just man upon earth, that doeth good, and sinneth not." (Eccl. vii 20.) The apostle of Christ takes shame to himself on the same account, and teaches all mankind to strike the sail of self-conceit : " In many things we offend all." (James iii. 2-) David, considering the latter of these points, prays with the utmost earnestness, " Enter not into judg- ment with thy servant, O Lord !" and as- signs this humbling reason for his petition, " for in thy sight shall no man living be justified." (Psalm cxliii. 2.) This induced Nehemiah, who had been so nobly zealous for the honour of his God, not to confide in his own valuable services, but make application to forgiving goodness : " Spare me, O Lord, according to thy great mercy." (Neh. xiii. 22.) Had I set before you the example of the poor publican, who smote upon his breast, durst not lift iip his eyes to heaven, but cried, from the bottom of a polluted heart, " God be merciful to me a sinner !" (Luke xviii. 13,) self-love might possibly have whispered, " Surely I am not to be ranked with that abominable ^v^etch. I stand upon some better footing than such an infamous offender." AVith respect to the enjoyment of eternal life, we stand upon no better, upon no other. And when low as that obnoxious despised creature, we are upon the very same ground with the most ex- alted saints. 1 hey all appear before the Majesty of Heaven, in the same attitude of unfeigned humiliation, and with the same acknowledgments of utter unworthiness. For it is a certain truth, and admits of no exception, that to justify sinners is not the privilege of human obedience, but the sole prerogative of " the Lord our righteousness." Ther. Is not the practice of Hezekiah an exception to your rule ? These, if I re- collect aright, are the words of that holy king : " I beseech thee, O Lord, remember how I have walked before thee in tnath, and with a perfect heart, and have done that which is good in thy sight. (2 Kings XX. 3.) You see, he puts the issue of his trial before the everlasting God, upon his own integrity and his own obedience. Asp. These are his words, but they are not used with this view. He humbly re- presents before the great Sovereign of the world, how beneficial his former life had been, and how serviceable his prolonged life might be, to the best interests of the Jewish nation. He recurs to his obedience, not that he may establish his hope of eter- nal happiness in heaven, but that he may obtain a reprieve from the grave, and a lengthening of his tranquillity on earth. Neitlier is this obedience gloried in by way of merit, but only pleaded by way of argument, as though he had said, " Re- member, gracious God, how I have ex- erted my royal authority to suppress idola- try, to extirpate \ace, and to promote thy tnie religion. Consider hov/ greatly thy people stand in need of such a vigilant and zealous governor ; and to what a miserable condition both church and state may be re- duced, if thou takest away thy servant by this threatened but untimely stroke. And; 242 TIIERON AND ASPASIO. for the welfare of Judah, for the honour of thy name, for the support of thy own wor- ship, O spare me a little /" Aspasio paused, expecting a reply. As Theron continued silent and musing, As- pasio, with a smile of benevolence, pro- ceeded.— Come, my Theron ! why so deep in thought ? Have you any objection to the evidences I have pioduced ! They are some of the most dignified characters and illustrious personages that could be selected from all ages : kings, princes, and patriots ; priests, saints, and martyrs. Should these be deemed insufficient, I can exhibit a larger and nobler cloud of witnesses : — larger, for they are a great multitude, which no man can number, of all nations, and kindreds, and people, and tongues ; nobler, for they stand before the throne, and before the Lamb, clothed with white robes, and palms in their hands. Ask those shining armies, who they are, and whence they came ? Their answer is comprised in one of my favourite portions of scripture, one of those delightful texts, from which I hope to de- rive consolation even in my last moments. For which reason, you will allow me to re- peat it, though it may perhaps be mention- ed in a former conversation : " We are they who came out of great tribulation ; and have washed our robes, and made them white in the blood of the Lamb ; therefore, arewebeforethe throne." (Rev. vii. 14,15.) Some of them laid down their lives for the sake of Christ ; many of them were eminent for works of righteousness ; all of them were endued with real holiness. Yet none of these qualifications constituted their passport into the regions of endless felicity. They had "washed their robes," had fled to the atonement, and pleaded the merits of Jesus their Saviour. Hereby they had " made them white ;" this was the cause of their acquittance from guilt, and their com- plete justification : and therefore, on this account, their persons were accepted ; they were presented without spot before the throne, and admitted to that fulness of joy, which is at God's right hand for evermore. Tlier. I have no objection to your wit- nesses. But, methinks, your doctrine is strangely debasing to human nature. Asp. A sign, Theron, that is agreeable to the genius of the gospel ; which is cal- culated, as the eloquent Isaiah foretold, to humble the sinner, and exalt the Saviour : * * This corresponds with a very valuable maxim, whic ' an eminent divine once recommended to his people, as a touchstone to distinguish evaneelical trulli. — " That doctrine," he said, " which tends To humble the sinner; To exalt the .Saviour; To promote holiness;" That doctrine which tends to accomplish all these designs, you may embrace as sound. That which is defective in its influence on any one of them, you should reject as corrupt. " The loftiness of man shall be bowed down, and the haughtiness of man shall be made lov*', and the Lord alone shall be ex- alted in that day." (Isaiah ii. 11.) " Man, though naturally vain, shall be made sensi- ble of his numberless oflTences ; shall see the defects which attend his highest attain- ments ; shall confess the impossibility of being justified by the deeds of the law ; and place all his hope upon the propitiatory death, and meritorious obedience, of the Lord Jesus Christ. DIALOGUE IX. Theron, impressed with the last conver- sation, was very desirous to resume the sub- ject, and renew the important debate. With this view he conducted his friend into a re- tirement commodious for the purpose. They enter a spacious lawn, which lay opposite to the house, and stretched itself in the form of an expanded fan. The mounds on either side were dressed in verdure, and ran out in a slanting direction. The whole, to an eye placed at a distance, bore the re- semblance of a magnificent vista ; contract- ing by slow degrees its dimensions, and les- sening at last into a point, which the regular and graceful seat with all imaginable dignity supplied. Nature had sunk the lawn into a gentle decline, on whose ample sides were oxen browsing and lambs frisking. The lusty droves lowed as they past, and the thriving flocks bleated welcome music in their mas- ter's ear. Along the midst of this verdant slope ran a spacious and extensive walk, which, coated with gravel, and fenced with pallisadoes, looked like a plain stripe of brown intersecting a carpet of the brightest green. At the bottom, two handsome ca- nals, copiously stocked with fish, floated to the breeze ; whose waters, beheld from every front room in the house, had a fine ef- fect upon the sight, not without a refresh- ing influence on the imagination. At the extremity of one stood a stately colonnade- 'I'he roof was elevated on pillars of the ionic order ; and the area slabbed with stones, neatly ranged in the diamond fashion. Several forest chairs accommodated the ang- lers with a seat, while the bending dome supplied them with a shaded Corresponding, and on the margin of the other canal, was erected a summer house, of a very singular kind — The lower part had an opening towards the north. It was cool ; it was gloomy ; and had never seen the sun. It carried the romantic air of a grotto, or rather the pensive appearance of a hermit's cell. The outside was coarse and rugged with protuberant stones. Partly overspread with ivy, partly covered with moss, it seem- ed to be the work of anci»nt years. You DIALOGUE IX. 243 descend, by steps of turf, through a low and narrow door. A scanty iron grate, instead of a large sweeping sash, transmits a glim- mering light, just sufficient to discover the inner structure, which appeared like one continued piece of rock-work — a cavern cut, you would imagine, from the surround- ing quarry. Above, hung an irregular arch, with an aspect rather threatening than in- viting. Below, lay a paving of homely peb- bles ; in some places a little furrowed, as though it had been worn by the frequent tread of solitary feet. All around were rus- ticity and solemnity ; solemnity never more visibly seen than through a gloom. The furniture o; the same grotesque fashion with the apartment- A bench hewed, you would rdspect, by nature's chisel, out of the solid stone ; a sort of couch, composed of swell- ing moss, and small fibrous roots. From one corner trickled a pure spring, which crept with a bubbling moan along the channelled floor, till its healthy current was collected into a bason, rudely scooped from the ground. On the edge of thi« little receptacle lay chained a rusty bowl, and over it stood an antique worm-eaten table. On the least obscure part of the wall you discern, dimly discern, a parchment scroll, inscribed with that sage, but mortifying admonition, " Va- nity of vanities ! all is vanity !" Over this recess, so pleasingly horrid, and adapted to solemn musings, arose an open and airy Belvidere You ascend by winding stairs ; and coming from the uncouth abode below, are sweetly surprised with an elegant hexagon. The ceiling lofty, and decorated with the softest, richest, almost flowing fret- work. The wainscot, in paimels of oak, retained its native auburn ; so beautifully plain, that, like an amiable countenance, it would have been disfigured, rather than im- proved, by the most costly paint. On this were disposed, in gilded frames, and to great advantage, a variety of entertaining land- scapes. But none surpassed, none equalled, all were a foil to the noble, lovely views which the windows commanded. The chim- ney-piece, of white shining marble, streaked with veins of vivid red. Over it was carv- ed a fine festoon of artificial, in it was rang- ed a ciioice collection of natural flowers. On a table of glossy walnut lay a portable tele- scope, attended with Thomson's Seasons, and Vanierii Pradium Ritsticum.' The whole was fitted up in the highest taste, and furnished with every pleasurable ornament, on purpose to harmonize with that lavish gaiety, which seemed to smile over * " Vanierii Prsedium Rusticum." A most elegant Latin poem ; -which treats of every remarkable pecu- liarity relating to the business ol' a country life, ov the furniture of a country seat. It entertains us with » description of the most agreeable objects, in an easy flow of thepu;est language, and most musical num- bers. all the face of nature : on purpose to corres- pond with that vernal delight, which came breathing on the wings of every fragrant gale : I may add, on purpose to remind the beholder of those immortal mansions, which are decorated with images infinitely more splendid, with objects unspeakably more glorious ; where holy beings win spend, not a few vacant hours in refined amusement, but a boundless eternity in the consumma- tion of joy. For, to a well-turned mind nature is a preceptor; and these are her in- structive lessons : To the pure in heart, even sense is edifying, and these are its de- licate moralities. The redundant waters of the canal rolled off in a spreading cascade ; which, tumbling from many a little precipice, soothed the air with a symphony of soft and gurgling sounds, nor ever intermitted the obliging of- fice, " From mom to noon, from noon to dewy eve." But when the fanning breezes dropt their wings, when the feathered choir were hush- ed in sleep, when not so much as a chirping grasshopper was heard throughout the meads, this liquid instrument still played its solo, still pursued its busy way, and warbled, as it flowed melodious mm-murs. Asp. Such, Theron, so uniform, uninter- rupted, and invariable, should be our con- formity to the divine law. But, alas ! those sacred precepts are so exceeding broad, that the most enlarged human obedience is far from being commensurate to their extent; so absolutely holy, that our highest attain- ments fall vastly short of their exalted per- fection. How then can we expect justifica- tion from such a consummate rule ? How dare we place our dependence upon such imperfect duties? especially before a God of unerring discernment and immaculate pu- rity. Tker. Because mankind are incapable of pleasing their Maker, by yielding an absolute and invariable obedience to the moral law ; does it follow from thence, that they cannot render themselves acceptable to him, by an universal course of sincere obedience ? Asp. I think it follows from what has been already observed. If you desire new arguments, they are at hand. Tiie law, says the teacher of the Gentiles, is the ministration of condemnation.* How can this be true, if it requires no more than a sincere obedience ; such as is proportion- ed to our infirm state ? If this be sufficient to justify, and entitle us to our Creator's favour, the law ceases to be the ministration * 2 Cor. iii. 7. In this place, I apprehend, the apos- tle means the moral law, and that principally, as that alone was written and engraven on stones. Elsewhere, I believe he uses the word in a larger sense; and. in- tends to exclude all law whatever from bearing any share in our justification. 244 THERON AND ASPASIO. of condemnation. It becomes (which is flatly contradictory to the apostles doctrine) the ministration of righteousness. The law is styled, by the same inspired teacher, " a schoolmaster to bring us to Christ.* How can it, upon your supposi- tion, be qualified for such an office ? If a sincere obedience be the whole of its de- mands, it can no longer direct us to Christ, it will no longer deliver us over to a Re- deemer's merit ; but must draw and attach us to itself, teaching us to look upon its precepts, and our own conscientious observ- ance of them, as tlie tenure of eternal life. Do you insist upon a third proof ? A third presents itself; not so much founded on argumentation, as deduced from example. How was Abraham, the friend of God and father of the faithful, justified ? By a course of sincere obedience ? No ; but by faith in the promised Messiah. " Abraham worked not," with a view to obtain justifi- cation ; but believed on him, who justifieth the ungodly.f How was David, the man after God's own heart, justified ?f By his zeal for the Lord, and by his eminent ser- vices? No ; but by a righteousness imput- ed ; even that righteousness of the blessed Redeemer, through which " iniquity is for- given, and sin pardoned." And can we be said to walk humbly, or can we be thought to walk surely, if, refusing to tread in the steps of these exemplary saints, we diverge into a path of our own devising ? Ther. " Of our own devising !" No, my friend ; there is a milder law introduced by the gospel, condescending and merciful to our infirmities, which accepts of sincerity instead of perfect obedience. Asp. When was this milder law intro- duced, and the stricter abrogated ? Not upon the entrance of sin, I presume. At this rate, the origmal law must be the crea- ture of a few days, perhaps of a few hours only But can we imagine, that the all wise and unchangeable God would ordain a sys- tem of precepts to be disaimulled as soon as enacted ? Not in our Lord's time, I am * Gal. iii 24. "Yl'u'hxyui'ytif.'" a schoolmaster; who pretends not to finish the education of youth, but directs them to, and prepares them for, higher studies or nobler employs. The law, in like manner, aims not at furnishing us with a title to happiness ; but fits, disposes, and disciplines us, for the all-suflS- cient Redeemer. T These two examples are, with the truest judg- ment, selected, and with the utmost propriety applied, Rom. iv. I, &c. Rom. iv. 6, &c. Abraham was the most illustrious pattern of piety among the Jewish patriarchs: " In glory there was none like him," Ec- clus. xiiv. 9. David was the most zealous and se- raphic of their kings ; '• a man after God's own ho.irt," 1 Sam xiii. 14. If neither of these was justi- fied by his ovra obedience, but each by an imputed righteousness, if they both obtained acceptance with God. not as upright beings, who might claim it ; but as sinful creatures, who must implore it ; the conse- quence is glaring. It is such as must strike every attentive understanding, and must affect e\ ery indi- vidual person. very certain. That holy commandment, which requires supreme love to God, and perfect charity to men, he assures us, was still in force, Matth. xxii. 37, 38, 39. Nay it is evident, from the nature of the Deity, and from our relation to one another, that it always will be in force, that it never can cease, but is necessary and everlasting. " A milder law, condescending to our in- firmities I" What can be the purport of such an institution ? It must be supposed to speak the following lans^uage : " Be it known unto you, O children of Adam, that you are no longer enjoined to love the Lord with all your strength, nor to love your neighbour as yourselves. Once, indeed, I insisted upon absolute purity of heart ; now 1 can dispense with some degree of evil con- cupiscence. Since Christ is come, and his gospel preached, you need not always be clothed with humility ; but may feel some little emotions of pride. In short, because you are weak, I will connive, or even ac- commodate my demands to your enfeebled and depraved condition." Not to urge (what must be shocking to every ear) that such a doctrine would make the Holy One of God a minister of sin, and the gospel of our salvation a patent for licen- tiousness ; let me only ask, Does this agree with our Lord's declaration, " One jot a tittle shall in no wise pass from the law, i. . all be fulfilled ? Matth. v. 18. Is this suit- able to the perfections of the divine Legis- lator ? " with whom is no variableness, nor shadow of turning," James i. ] 7. Will this consist with the avowed resolution of the Almighty Jehovah, " He will magnify the law, and make it honourable?" Isa. xlii. 2L Ther. However you may decry what I call the milder law, St. Paul asserts it to be the Christian scheme. This he strenuous- ly argues for as the only scheme by which any man can be justified in the sight of God. Asp. Does he, Theron ? in what epistle ? what chapter ? what verse ? He says, ad- dressing himself to the Galatian converts, " I do not frustrate the grace of God, for, if righteousness come by the law, Christ is dead in vain," Gal. ii. 21. From which passage, we learn two very momentous truths, that were we to derive a justifying righteousness from the law, this would not only be derogatory to the honour of grace, but subversive of its very being ; that by seeking justification through our own con- scientious behaviour, we make, as far as in us lies, the death of Christ a vain thing, for which there was no occasion, and of which there is no use. To the same piu*pose it is written in that invaluable epistle to the Romans, " If they which are of the law be heirs," if they who trust to their own performance oi' the law DIALOGUE IX. 215 nre thereby entitled to the heavenly inheri- tance ; " faith is made void, and the promise made of none effect," Rom. iv. 14. — See now, my friend, the tendencyof youropinion! It is not a mere speculative mistake, an er- ror of inconsiderable consequence, but such as strikes at the fundamentals of the gospel. Instead of being the only Christian scheme, it totally overthrows Christianity itself.* For it would render the promise abortive, and supersede the necessity of faith ; it would destroy the very existence of grace, and make even the death of Christ a super- fluous transaction. Ther. This I see, Aspasio, that the me- thod of obtaining acceptance on account of our own sincerity, is a benign expedient, such as corresponds with the compassionate nature of the Deity, and is what the apostle styles, " being justified by faith, without the deeds of the law." Asp. How ! To be justified by faith, and justified by sincerity, the same thing ? Is it possible that these should be equiva- lent terms ? Let me illustrate my query by a similitude, which our present situation suggests. Sometimes an easy comparison is more convincing than a laboured argu- ment. From this pleasing eminence we com- mand an extensive view of the country. Our eye connects the artless grandeur of nature with the elegant embellishments of the summer-house. Nor is the public road the least entertaining part of the scene ; be- cause it presents us with a moving picture, with a perpetual succession of new objects. How many travellers have passed in review since we took our seat in this agreeable ele- vation ! Just at this instant a stage-coach bolts out of the lane, filled, I presume, with passengers that reside in the neighbourhood, or are to lodge in the next market-town. We will suppose them set down at their journey's end. An acquaintance visits them, congratulates them on their arrival; and asks that customary question, " how they came ?'' " We came," say they, " without walking a step ourselves, yet by walking, as well, and as far as we are able.'' Is this answer intelligible ? Are these methods of travel- ling consistent? So intelligible is my friend's doctrine ; so consistent is justifica- tion vouchsafed without the deeds of the law ; and justification obtained by perform- ing the deeds of the law as well as we are able. * St. Paul says of those preachers who taught jus- tification by the works of the law, " they would pervert," or (as the original word fitraiXT^iTrirai may be translated) subvert and overthrow " the gosjiel of Christ." To pervert, give a wrong turn, or a false colour, seems not to express fully the apostle's idea, nor to preserve the native energy of his argument, The Greek word is equivalent to the Hebrew I^H' which we generally render evertere. Gal. i. 7- Ther. Without the law, signifies without the necessity of an exact and unerring con- formity to it. Asp. This is not without, but by the law, qualified in the rigour of its demands, and departing somewhat from the perfection of its precepts. Could you affirm with any propriety, that this part of the hemisphere is without the sun, because an intervening cloud has moderated its fervour and abated its glare ? What says the apostle ? His words in another place will determine his meaning in this. If a state of acceptance with God l>e of works, be referable to our own obedi- ence, whether sincere or perfect, " it is no more of grace."* Works and grace, in point of justification, are irreconcilable op- posites. On this pinnacle they cannot stand together. One must supplant and overthrow the other. But why do I speak of gi-ace ? If my friend's opinion prevail, grace is at an end. What we took to be the gospel, turns out a covenant of works. Salvation ceases to be a free gift, and becomes a necessary pay- ment. For " to him that worketh," that per- formeth what the law requires, " is the re- ward not reckoned of grace ;" but he may claim it as his due, it must be paid him as matter of debt ; Rom. iv. 4. Ther. You take no notice of what I ur- ged concerning the benignity of this scheme, and how much it magnifies the clemency of the great Legislator, Asp. But why should clemency erect its throne on the ruins of almost every other attribute ? This method would dishonour the veracity of God, which has denounced ' a curse upon every deviation from his re- vealed will. It would depreciate the ad- ministration of his justice, which cannot but punish whatever violates his sacred precepts. It would greatly derogate from the dignity of his law, and make it a mere thing of wax to bend, and truckle, and take its form from the sin and weakness of human nature. Ther. Will the divine law then make no favourable allowances for human infirmities, for constitutional faults, and strength of passion ? Asp. Far be it from me to represent the law of the Most High, either more strict, or more yielding, than it really is. To avoid all possibility of such a mistake, let us hear the declaration of the law itself: " Cursed is every one that continueth not in all things that aie written in the book of the law, to do them." Gal. iii. 10. * Rom. xi. 6. The passage produced by Aspasio, refers immediately to the doctrine of election, and but remotely to the privilege of justification. How- ever, as the former includes the latter, if that be per- fectly free, this cannot be the consequence of works. The argument therefore, I apprehend, is conclusive, though the proof is not so direct. * 2i6 THERON AND ASPA6I0. " Every one ;" without any exception of persons, without any regard to pleas, either of human weakness or violent tenoptation. — " That continueth not ;" it is not enough to observe these holy commandments in the general tenor of our conversation. Our course of obedience must be without any intermission, from the earliest dawn of rea- son to the latest period of life. " In all things j" we must refrain from all the sins that are forbidden, and from every approach towards them. We must practise all the virtues that are enjoined, and in their full extent of perfection. In a word, the law insists upon obedience, perfect in its principle, perfect in all its parts, perfect in every degree, and in each of these respects perpetual.* The least de- ficiency in anyone particular renders us liable to vengeance; and notwithstanding any re- pentance for transgressions, notwithstanding all pretensions to sincerity of heart, subjects us to the curse. Theron paused : — he seemed to be struck with surprise ; — but rallying his thoughts, replied, If this be the sense of the passage ; who of all flesh can be saved ? Asp. Say rather, If the extent of the di- vine law be so enlarged, if its demands be 60 high, and its sanction so awfully rigor- ous, then must " every mouth be stopped ; — then is all the world become guilty Jtefore God ; and by the works of the law shall no man living be justified." Ther. Will not such excessively severe doctrine drive people into despondency, or even drown them in despair? Asp. No, Theron ; unless it be such a despair as is the parent of heavenly hope, and productive of those amiable twins — peace and joy : A despair, I mean, of being reconciled to our oifended God, and of ob- taining eternal happiness by any satisfaction or any duties of our own. Ther. Surely, you forget the gracious manifesto published by the condescending King of heaven : " If there be first a wil- ling mind, it is accepted, according to what a man hath, not according to what he hath not," 2 Cor. viii. 12. Is it not plain from this text, that infinite goodness will admit our honest, though imperfect endeavours ; and, since we are not able to pay an unsin- ning, will mercifully accept our best obe- dience? Asp. I do notforget, but possibly my friend may misapply, the gracious manifesto. To whom was the word of this consolation sent ? To true believers, who had " given their own selves to the Lord," 2 Cor. viii. 5 ; » That the law insists upon an obedience absolute- ly perfect, will be farther evident to the attentive reader, if he considers the tenor of St. Paul's argu- mentation, in his epistles to the Romans, and to the Galaiir.Bs; particularly Rom. iii. 23. iv. 15, Gal. iii. 31. who " were established in Christ," S Cor. i. 21 ; "and abounded in faith," 2 Cor. viii. 7. If you likewise, my dear Theron, ac- knowledge yourself a vile sinner in your worst, and an unprofitable servant in your best estate ; if, in consequence of this ac- knowledgment, you fly for refuge to the wounds of a crucified Saviour, and rely for sal- vation only on his obedience unto death; then you imitate those Corinthian converts; then you may apply that indulgent declaration to yourself; and then would I venture to ad- dress you, in the elegant and cheering lan- guage of the royal preacher, " Go thy way, eat thy bread with joy, and drink thy wine with a merry heart ; for God now accept- eth"* both thy person and thy perform- ances. But if you overlook the righteousness of the blessed Jesus : if you depend upon your- self and your own attainments ; you are (how shall I speak it) not accepted, but accursed. In such a case you have already heard your doom denounced by the leader of the Jews, and may hear it ratified by the apostle of the Gentiles : " As many as are of the works of the law," who seek justification by their own observance of its commands, " are under the curse." Gal. iii. 10. Ther. Under the curse ! Because our at- tempts to obey, though faithfully exerted, are attended with defects ! Is not this un- reasonable and shocking ? Unreasonable, that the God of justice should establish a law of such consummate perfection, as no child of Adam can, even with his utmost assiduity and care, fulfil ? Shocking, that the God of mercy should thunder out so severe a denunciation on the least inadver- tent breach, on- every unavoidable failure ? This exceeds the relentless rigour of Draco, or the tyrannical impositions of Egyp- tian task-masters. Draco is said to have written his laws in blood ; yet he never en- acted such institutions as were absolute- ly too strict and difficult to be observ- ed. And though the Egyptian task-mas- ters insisted upon the full tale of bricks, without allowing the necessary proportion of straw ; yet the punishment they inflicted was incomparably less than everlasting de- struction. Asp. If God Almighty, in delivering his law to fallen mankind, intended to propose the means of their justification, 3'our argu- ment would be valid, and your inference uride- • Eccl. ix. 7. Aspasio's remark discovers an amW- giiity in the word accepted. If people mean, that sincere obedience shall beaccepted, as their justifying righteousness, as that which constitutes their title to everlastingfelicity, the proposition is extremely false. If thev mean, that the sincere obedience of believers, though very imperfect in itself, shall be graciously regarded in Christ, and find favour through his all- recornmciiding merit, the sentiment is unque^trona. bly true. DIALOGUE IX. 247 Biable. But the Supreme Legtelator had a Very different, a far more mysterious design. However, before I proceed to touch upon this point, let me desire to know your opinion — For what reasons, think you, was the law ordained ? Ther. For what reasons ? To deter men from the commission of vice, and excite them to the practice of virtue. To set before them a rule for their conduct which, if they diligently observe, they shall be rewarded with eternal happiness ; which, if they pre- sumptuously transgress, they shall be pun- ished with eternal misery- Asp. If man had never fallen, this doc- trine had been sound divinity, and this me- thod a practicable scheme. But ever since the fall, such a way of salvation is some- what like the northeast passage. As moun- tains of ice, and the severest rigours of win- ter, block up this, — so extreme impo- tence in man, and the utmost perfection in the law, bar up that. " The law," saith the apostle, " is weak ;" is incapable of furnishing us with a title to the heaven- ly felicity ;* not through any defect in its precepts, but " through the flesh," through the inability of our degenerate nature. Yet I must confess you are not alone in your opinion. Multitudes have unwarily entertained the same notion; not appre- hensive that they frustrate hereby the grace of God, and render it of none effect with re- gard to themselves. If you examine the scriptural account, you will find it quite of another strain. Ther. Pray let me hear the scriptural ac- count. For whenever those divine oracles speak, I am all attention : Wherever they interpose theirauthority, lara all submission. Asp. •' By the law is the knowledge of sin," Rom. iii. 20. Far from being our justifier, it is our accuser. It arraigns, and proves us guilty. It demonstrates, beyond all possibility of contradiction, that the very best among us have failed and come short of our duty ; nay, that the very best among us have done amiss, and dealt wickedly. " I was alive without the law once," says the apostle, Rom. vii. 9. I thought my- self upright and holy ; and entitled, by virtue of these qualifications, to life eternal. *' But when the commandment came," shining in its purity, and operating with power, "sin revived :"aclear and lively sense of guilt shot, like a piercing ray, through all my soul. I saw myself chargeable with many past provocations. I felt myself * Rom. viii. 3. Therefore he says in another place, " If there had been a law given, which could have given life." Gal. iii. 21. It is the same way of speaking, and intended to denote the very same im- possibility, which is implied in that speech of Jeho- vah to Abraham, " If a man can number the dust of the earth." Oen. xiii. 16. subject to much remaining corruption. In consequence of which "I died:" my vain conceits were blasted ; my presumptuous hopes expired ; I could not but acknowledge myself justly liable to condemnation and death. Tker. It had this effect on Saul, when he was a malignant and barbarous persecutor. But when people are virtuous and benevo- lent, what purpose does it then serve? Asp. A very important one ; yet such as may probably, at the first hearing, affect you with a little surprise. " The law enter- ed," says the apostle, "■ that the offence might '' Ther. Be restrained, no doubt. Asp. That the offence might *' abound," Rom. v. 20. is the assertion. Ther- Surprising indeed ! Is it possible that God's law should give countenance to sin ? nay, add spurs to the sinner ? Asp. Let us beware of mistaking our sa- cred casuist. The law entered, not that the commission of sin might be authorized, but that the abundance of our sins might be manifested ; that all mankind, even your virtuous persons, may perceive the great multitude of their iniquities, the greater im- purity of their hearts,* together with the utter imperfection of their highest attain- ments, and best services. This end could not be answered by a law relaxed in its demands, or warping to our weakness ; only by a system of precepts every way exact, and in all degrees perfect. Whoever would represent to his neighbours the spots that sully, or the scars that disfi- gure his countenance, must effect the de- sign, not by a stained, but by a pure mirror. Ther. " The knowledge of sin, and a con- viction of our exceeding sinfulness :" these are intentions which I should not have sus- pected. Asp. These are not all. There is an- other intention of the law, equally neces- sary, and no less awful : " it reveals the wrdth of God against all ungodliness and unrighteousness of men." Romans, i. 18. Having set before the sinner his innumera- ble offences and enormous guilt, it denounces the doom which he deserves ; it unsheathes the sword of justice, and threatens the of- fender with everlasting destruction from the presence of the Lord. Ther. A modern writer supposes, that God may set aside the law, in favour of frail men. I might far more reasonably suppose, that he would mitigate the law, on the same con- sideration. But what you urge makes me afraid to lean on so precarious a prop- Asp. To look for comfort and salvation from this quarter, would be to lean, as the * And therefore was law given them, to evince Their natural pravity.— .Ifirton, 6. 12. 1. 287. 248 THERON AND ASPASIO. Arabiaii proverb speaks, " on a wave of the sea," which will not only fail to support, but will certainly swallow up the unadvised and rash depender. No, Theron ; rather than the divine law should lose its honours, Sodom and Gomor- rah were laid in ashes; the ancient world was destroyed with a deluge ; the present frame of nature is destined to the flames, and all its unholy inhabitants will be condemned to hell. Nay, rather than the least tittle should pass unaccomplished, its curse has been executed on God's own Son, and all its injunctions have been fulfilled in the per- son of Jesus Christ. Ther. As I dare not confide in the mo- dern provisionary salvo, so neither can I ac- cede to your severe and terrifying notions. The laws of a wise and beneficent governor are calculated for the good of his subjects. What good, what advantage can accrue to us, from receiving such a sentence, and pos- sessing such convictions ? Asp. Though I might mention many ad- vantages, I shall content myself with select- ing one, which is not only valuable in itself, but the introduction to every spiritual bless- ing. When, by the instrumentality of the law, and the illumination of the Spirit, we are brought under such convictions, then we are taught to see our danger ; then we are made to feel our misery ; and then we shall no longer sleep in security, but solicitously look out for deliverance, and gladly accept the sovereign remedy. Ther- The law, according to your repre- sentation, is intended to accuse me — to con- vict me — to condemn me- So it becomes, instead of a salutary, a killing system. Asp. " The letter killeth, but the spirit giveth life." 2 Cor. iii. 6. If we adhere to the literal sense, without attending to the spiritual design ; if we regard only the pre- cept and the sanction as they stand in them- selves, and neither consider nor improve them as acting in subserviency to the Medi- ator's righteousness ; they are doubtless a killing ordinance, and bind us down under a sentence of death. But, rightly improved — Hold ! let me proceed no farther with the argument. You are a sportsman, Theron, and delight in the manly recreations of the field ; you must therefore have read that fine poem, which so elegantly describes your favourite diversion. Ther. The Chase, I suppose you mean. Asp. The same. Do you remember the large description of the royal stag chase ? Tlier. Perfectly well. It is not a week since I perused the whole passage, and with as much pleasure as if it had been entirely new. Asp. Then you can give me a summary of the agreeable narrative. Ther. I can. But will not this chase lead us away very far from our subject? Asp. Perhaps not so far as you imagine. I have a reason for my request. TTier. What reason, I beseech you ? Asp. You shall soon know. Only favour me with the account. Ther. I protest, I cannot discern the least connexion between these rural sports and the grandtopicof our conversation. Howev- er, since you command, I will implicitlyobey. The stag, roused from his lair, shakes his dappled sides ; tosses his beamy head ; and, conscious of superior agility, seems to defy the gathering storm. You see, speaking of poetry, I have caught something of the po- etical strain. Asp. This enlivened manner excites my eagerness, and makes me more desirous to hear the sequel. Ther. First, he has recoorse to stratagem, and evasive shifts. He plunges into the copse ; darts across the glade, and wheels about in doubling mazes, as though he would pursue even the foe he avoids. The full- mouthed pack unravel all his windings, and drive him from his wily arts. Now he betakes himself to flight, and confides in his speed. He bursts through the woods, bounds over the lawns, and leaves the lagging beagles far behind. The beagles, slow but sure, trace his steps through woods, through lawns, through half the extended forest : Unwearied, still unwearied, they urge their ardent way, and gain upon the alarmed object of their pursuit. Again he flies, flies with redoubled swift- ness ; shoots down the steep ; strains up the hill ; and takes shelter in the inmost recess of some sequestered grove. The sagacious hounds hang, with greedy nostrils, on the scent. They recover, by indefatigable as- siduity, the ground they had lost. Up they , come a third time ; and, joining in a ge- neral peal of vengeance, hurry the affiighted animal from his short concealment. Perplexed, and in the utmost distress, he seeks the numerous herd. He would lose himself, and elude his pursuers, amidst the multitude of his fellows. But they, uncon- cerned for a brother's woe, shun the miser- able creature, or expel him from the selfish circle. Abandoned by his associates, and haunted with apprehensions of approaching ruin, he trembles at every leaf that shakes. He starts ; he springs ; and wild, and swift as the wind, flies he knows not where, yet pours all his soul in flight. Vain, vain are his eflbrts ! The horrid cry, lately lessened, thickens upon the gale, and thunders in his ear. Now the poor breathless victim is full in view : his sprightliness forsakes him ; his agility is spent. See how he toils in yonder valley with faultering limbs and a hobbling gait ! The sight of their game quickens the DIALOGUE IX. 5/49 pace, and whets the ardour, of the impetu- ous hounds. With tumultuous violence they rush in, and with clamorous joy demand their prey. What can he do, surrounded as he is with insulting tongues and ravenous jaws ? De- spair is capable of inspiriting even the ti- morous breast. Having nothing to hope, he forgets to fear. He fares about, and makes a resolute staiid. The trunk of a sturdy tree covers his rear, and liis own branching horns defend him in front. He rushes upon his adversaries, gores some, lays otliers grovelling on the turf, and makes the whole coward pack give way. Encouraged by this unexpected success, his hopes revive. He rallies once again his drooping spirits; exerts the little remainder of his strength, and springs through the midst of the retiring rout. It is his last, last chance. He stretches every nerve ; once more loses sight of the rabble from the kennel ; and, finding no security on the land, takes to the water ! He throws his burning sides into the river, sails down the cooling stream ; and slinks away to the verge of some little shelving island. There finding a resting place for his feet, he skulks close to the sha- dy margin. All immersed in the wave, ex- cepting only his nostrils, he baffles for a while the prying eye of man, and the keen- er smell of brute. Discovered at length, and forced to quit this unavailing refuge, he climbs the slippery bank. Unable to fly any longer, he stands at bay against an aged willow ; stands, all faint with toil, and sobbing with anguish. The crowds that gather round him with merciless and outrageous transport, triumph in his misery. A multitude of blood-thirsty throats, joined with the sonorous horn, ring his funeral knell. The tears, till this fatal instant unknowm, gush from his languishing eyes, and roll down his reeking cheeks. He casts one more look on the woods, the lawns, the pleasing scenes of his former delights ; and, determined to die, prepares to sell his life as dear as possible. At this most critical juncture, the royal sportsman comes up. He sees the distress- ed creature ; and as soon as he sees, he pities ! The clemency which attends the throne, accompanies even the diversions of majesty. He issues the high command. The prohibitory signal is given. The pack, though raving for blood, are checked in a moment ; and not checked only, but called off from the prey. Disappointed and grum- bling they retire, and leave the intended vic- tim of their fury to enjoy his liberty, his safety, and his ease again. 1 have now followed the stag, till I have tired your patience. Why did you suffer nie to run on at this extravagant rate ? You know I am, on these favourite topica, an everlasting talker. ylsp. Why this apology, Theron ? I am sure you did not see my mouth yawn, or my head nod, while you was pursuing your sub- ject. Besides, I intend to make reprisals, and put your attention to the same trial- Thus the strictness of the law pursues the soul ; dislodges it from every refuge of lies ; and never remits its terrifying menaces, till the poor delinquent ceases from self-confi- dence, and fixes on Christ for his whole sal- vation. The man, perhaps, is awakened into a serious concern for his eternal state. In consequence of which, he relinquishes his profane and iniquitous practices ; breaks the Sabbath, and defrauds his neighbour no more. But the law quickly represents, and in a glaring light, that a negative obedience is by no means sufficient. Upon this he betakes himself to a course of positive holiness ; gets acquainted with religious people, and performs religious du- ties ; prays in secret, and attends public ordinances ; conscientiously observes the Lord's day, and regulates his behaviour by the rule of God's commandments. Now, he is ready to congratulate himself on his remarkable and hopeful reformation. Soon he perceives, that all his proficien- cy is but skin-deep, a mere outside varnish, which has not penetrated the inner man. He begins therefore, to watch over the mo- tions, and bewail the evils of bis heart. He labours to subdue pride, and curb passion ; to purge out filthy lusts, and to banish spi- ritual wickedness. Notwithstanding ail his vigilance, conscience flies in his face, either for the neglect of some virtue, or the com- mission of some sin. The law rings in his ear that dreadful denunciation, " Cursed is he that performeth not all things." Struck by this conviction, his wounds bleed afresh. He is obliged to seek some new balm for his sore. In order to appea.se an offended God, and atone for his sinful relapses, he makes many sorrowful confes- sions, possibly submits to voluntary suffer, ings. He denies himself, and bestows li- berally on the poor : He sighs deeply, and mourns bitterly — But can waters that are muddy cleanse the garment that is filthy? Wilt thou satisfy, O vain man, wilt thou satisfy for one sin by committing another ? In these penitential exercises were thy thoughts steadily devout ? In those acts of beneficence, was thy heart warmly affection- ate ? If not, such fancied reparations of past faults, only aggravate the heavy score. What shall he do ? He cannot pay : to beg he is ashamed. Fain would he enter into life, yet not be too much indebted to grace. He attempts, therefore, to com- 250 THERON A^D ASPASIO. pound with heaven. He binds himself by solemn, perhaps by sacramental engage- ments, to use greater circumspection for the future ; then turns his eye to the divine Mediator not with a view of relying wholly on his righteousness, but only to obtain such a supply as may make up the deficien- cies of his own. Somewhat like this was tlie mistake of the Galatian converts, against which St. Paul, in his epistle to that peo- ple, so solidly disputes, and so sharply inveighs — For a while he holds fast his purposed integrity. At length, falling notoriously short in executing his part, a startling voice sounds in his earthat dread- ful alarm, " Cursed is he that continueth not-" His heart sinks with discouragement, and all his resolutions hang their enfeebled heads. He has tried every method that he can devise, and has found every method in- eftectual. All his expedients are a spider's web, and his hope is as the giving up of the ghost. His soul, pursued by the law, and haunt- ed by terror, is brought to the gates of death, or the very brink of despair. And now the King of kings, now the Lord our righteousness, appears for his rescue. Now is accomplished that gracious declaration, " O Israel, thou hast destroyed thyself, but in me is thy help." Hos. xiii. 9. Driven from every false refuge, and drawn by the blessed Spirit, he comes weary and heavy laden to Christ. Convinced of the sin of his nature, the sin of his life, and the sin of his best duties, he renounces himself in every view. This is all his salvation, and all his desire, that he may win Christ, and be found in him. Did that poor afflicted woman say, " If I may but touch his gar- ment, I shall be whole ?" With equal ar- dour does this enlightened sinner cry, " If I may but have fellowship with the glorious Immanuel, in his merits, and in his benefits, I am alive from the dead, I am happy for ever." Having seen a glimpse of the transcen- dent excellency of the Redeemer's person ; having received a taste from the inexhaust- ible fulness of his grace ; O how he longs for brighter manifestations ! how he thirsts after more plentiful draughts ! — None that come to Christ are cast out. He that awakens these ardent desires, in his due time gives the desired blessings. After va- rious conflicts a comfortable and est.iblish- ed faith is wrought in the penitent's soul. He believes, that the Son of the Most High died in his stead, and was obedient for his justification ; believes, that all the unsearchable riches of the adored Media- tor's life and death are his portion.* • Sco this work of grace, and procedure of conver- sion, more copioubly displayed, in a valuable little By this faith, his heart is purified; hit heart is quickened, he is fitted for every good work. Though temptations assault him, he derives strength from his Saviour; " resists the devil and is faithful, unto death." Though corruptions defile him, he flies to the "fountain opened for uncleanness." Zech. xiii. 1 ; makes daily, hourly applica- tion of the blood of sprinkling, and goes on his way, rejoicing in God his Saviour. Ther. Your discourse puts me in mind of Absalom's procedure when Joab refused to make him a visit. The Prince ordered his servants to set on fire the General's corn. 2 Sam. xiv. 30. This stratagem had its intended efi"ect. The apprehension of dan- ger drove him, when the respectful invita- tion would not lead him, to a personal in» terview. You seem to suppose that the law was delivered with such a design — to lay us under a necessity of flying to the atonement of Christ. Asp' I do, Theron. And for this opinion I have a far better authority than my own supposition. We are assured by unerring wisdom, that " Christ is the end of the law." Rom. x- 4. It points invai'iably to him ; it terminates wholly in him ; and then obtains its first, its principal purpose, when sinners are brought to their divine Redeem- er for righteousness and strength ; for that righteousness which entitles to heaven, that strength which capacitates for obedience. " The law hath concluded all mankind under sin," Gal. iii. 10 ; yet not with an intention that any should be discouraged now or perish for ever ; but that every one may see his inexpressible need of a Saviour's death, and a Saviour's obedience ; that, be- ng thus prepared both to value and receive so precious a blessing, the promise of justi- fication "by faith in Jesus Christ, may be given to them that believe." Let us advert td this grand aim of the law. Then we shall see goodness, unques- tionable and sovereign goodness, in forming its constitution so sublimely perfect, and making its threatenings so inflexibly severe. Exclusive of this wholesome severity, we should supinely disesteem, perhaps wanton- ly reject, the grace of the gospel. The pro- digal son would never have returned to his father, in that humble, submissive, suppli- cating posture, if he had not found his cir- cumstances utterly ruined, and felt himself piece, entitled, " Human Nature in its Fourfold state," by Mr. Thomas Boston, page 227, which, in my opinion, is one of our best books for common readers. The sentences are short, and the compari- sons striking. The language is easy, and the doctrme evangelical. The method proper, the plan compre- hensive ; the manner searching, yet consolatory. If another celebrated treatise is styled, " The whole duty ofMan,"! v/ould call this the wholeof Man; as itcom- prises — what he was originally — what he is bv trans- giesson— what he should be through grace — and then what he will be in glory. DIALOGUE X. S61 perishing with hunger. No more would the conceited sons of Adam, disclaiming all pretence to any merit of their own, and with nothing but the halter* of self-condemna- tion about their necks, fall down at the feet of a merciful Redeemer, if they were not instigated by the sharp goad, or rather dri- ven by the flaming sword of the law. Ther. Has the law, then, nothing to do with our temper and conversation ? Is it no longer to be considered as a system of du- ties? noloiigerto be regarded as a ruleof life? Asp. When it has forced the lines of self-righteousness, and driven us to Jesus Christ, that only citadel of safety, for ac- ceptance and salvation, then it serves as a rule for our conduct ; then it shows us, like a friend and a guide, how to order our conversation, and adorn our profession ; how to glorify God, and express our grati- tude to Christ. But till it has accomplish- ed the fore- mentioned end, it thunders vengeance, it flashes terror j it is, as Moses speaks, a " fiery law."f And is it, my dear Theron, a fiery law ? Then let it constrain us to take shelter in that meritorious obedience, which will be, to our guilty souls, " as the cold of snow in the time of harvest." Prov. xxv. 13. Is it a law which " worketh wrath ?" Let it endear to our affections that inestimably precious gospel, which " preacheth peace by Jesus Christ." Acts x. 36. Is it " the ministration of condemnation ?" 2 Cor. iii. 19. O let it quicken our flight to that all- gracious Surety, who was condemned at Pilate's bar, that we may be acquitted at God's tribunal ! To all this agrees our celebrated Milton, whose divinity is as faultless as his poetry is matchless. You will give me leave to quote a few of his beautiful lines, which re- capitulate, as it were, the whole preceding conversation ; and while they recapitulate the conversation, confirm the doctrine. This will make you some amends for my late tedious harangue, this will tip the lead with gold. So law appears imperfect ; and but giv"n With purpose to resign them, in full time. Up to a better cov'nant ; disciplin'd From shadowy types to truth ; froin flesh to spirit; From imposition of strict laws, to free Acceptance of large grace ; from servile fear To filial; works of law to works of faith." Book xii. 1. 30(). • Alluding to those remarkable words of Benha- dad's servants ; " Let us put sackcloth upon our loins and ropes upon our heads, and go out to meet the king of Israel ; peradventure he will save thy life. " 1 Kings xx. 31. + Fiery law, Deut. xxxiii. 2. I dare not affirm that this IS the exact import of the original, nor do I presume to determine the precise signification of a phrase so remarkably difficult. But as this is our re- ceived version ; as it suggests a very useful truth, and a truth, which, in the present age, is peculiarly needful to be inculcated, I am inclined to acquiesce in the common rendering. DIALOGUE X. Asp Again', Theron ! must we never lay aside the weapons of controversy .■' — . You put me in mind of the resolute Athe- nian, who, having fought with distinguished bravery on the field of Marathon, pur- sued the vanquished Persians to their fleet. At that very instant, a galley full of the enemy's troops was putting oif to sea. De- termined, if possible, to prevent their es- cape, he laid hold of the vessel with his right hand, which was no sooner fixed, than chopped ofl" by the sailors. The warrior, not at all discouraged, seized it with his left. When thnt also was cutaway, he fas- tened his teeth in its side ; and never quitted his gripe, till he resigned his breath.* Ther. 1 have been considering the case of imputed righteousness, and am by no means satisfied as to the propriety of the phrase, or the truth of the doctrine, especi- ally in the sense which you espouse. Ob- jections arise, more substantial and weighty than any that have hitherto been urged ; and which, if I mistake not, you will find it a more difficult task to answer. Asp. I must do my best. And if my best attempts prove unsuccessful, I shall say, with the gallant Iphicrates, when overpowered by the eloquence of his antagonist, " My adversary is the better actor, but mine is the better play." I say better ; for to you, Theron, I will freely own, what to another person I should not be so wilhng to disclose, — That I re- ceive no comfort, but from the habitual belief, and daily application, of this precious doctrine. Whenever 1 read the most cor- rect and beautiful writings that proceed in the contrary strain, 1 feel my spirits heavy, I find my prospects gloomy, and not one ray of consolation gleams upon my mind. Whereas, much meaner compositions, which breathe the savour of this evangelical unction, seldom fail to quicken my hopes, to brighten my views, and put into my mouth that pious- ly-alert profession of the Psalmist, " 1 will rim the way of thy commandments, now thou hast set my heart at liberty." Psalm cxix. 32. Though 1 am far from laying any considerable stress upon this observation, farther still from advancing it into the place of an argument, yet I may be permitted to mention it in the confidence and familiarity of friendship. * The Athenian's name was Cynajgyrus. The au- thor who relates this extraordinary story, is Justin. If the reader should think it a rhodomontade, I be- lieve he will not judge amiss. And I promise myself, the same good sense will enable him to distingu'sh between what is hinted by way of pleasantry, and what is urged by way of argument. 2.52 TllERON AND ASPASIO. Ther. An opinion proposed with so much modesty, and so nearly connected with my Aspasio's comfort, has doubtless a claim to my serious attention. Otherwise, it might possibly provoke my raillery. For you must know I am no great admirer of inward feel- ings. I cannot think tiiem a very solid me- thod* of demonstrating your point. It must be enforced by better reasons, if you would gain it access to my heart. We must place, you say, a dependence upon the Lord Jesus Christ, in all that he has done and suffered. What he has done and suffered, you add, is our only justifying righteousness ; and to place our dependence on it, is the only method to obtain pardon of our sins, and life eternal. Asp. I have said it, I'heron, and I abide by it. TJiis being the righteousness of God, is Ther. Give me leave, before you proceed farther, to propose a query. Does the righ- teousness of God signify the active and passive obedience of Christ? Asp. Righteousness is a conformity to the law, in heart and in life. As the Son of God voluntarily made himself subject to the law, perfectly fulfilled its precepts, and suf- fered to the utmost its penalty ; this, I should imagine, furnishes us with the truest and noblest signification of the phrase. Ther. What if 1 or others should imagine quite the reverse ? Asp. I thank my friend for his admoni- tion. It is indeed unreasonable that my bare imagination should pass for orthodoxy and truth. Let us then inquire after better proof When the divine name, in the sacred phraseology, is added to a substantive, it expresses some very extraordinary property. " The trees of the Lord," Psal. civ. 16, denote those stately and magnificent forests, which the hand of the Most High planted. " The mountains of God,"" are those pro- digiously large elevations of the earth, which none but an almighty arm could establish. The righteousness of God likewise means a righteousness of the most supereminent dig- nity ; such as is worthy to be called by his name, and may justly challenge his accept- ance. And where shall we find this, but in the conduct and person of his blessed Son ? This has a most unexceptionable claim to the exalted title ; being, as a masterly critic explains the phrase, " a righteousness de- vised by God the Father, from all eternity ; wrought out by God the Son, in the per- son of Jesus Christ ; applied by God the Holy Ghost to the sinners soul." Titer. This doctrine of yours, if I rightly understand it, would make remission of sins but one half of our justification, and some- * This is the import of the original Q'^n'PJ^ I in» Psahn xxxvi. \erse /, Hebrew ; \ trsc G, Eng- dth. thing else necessary in order to obtain eter nal life ; which is jast as rational as to sup- pose, that though one cause may expel dark- ness, another must supervene in order to introduce light. Agp. The nature of justification, and the nature of condemnation, are two opposites, which will mutually illustrate each other. What is implied in the condemnation of a sinner ? He forfeits eternal life, and is doomed to eternal death. What is includ- ed in the justification of a sinner ? It super- sedes his obligation to punishment, and in- vests him with a title to happiness. In or- der to the first, there must be a remission of sins ; in order to the second, an imputa- tion of righteousness. Both which are de- rived from Christ's mediation in our behalf; and both take place when we are united to that divine head : So that we do not derive them from two different sources, but as- cribe them to one and the same great all- sufficient Cause. Your comparison, though intended to overthrow, I think fully establishes the sen- timent. When yonder bright orb makes his first appearance in the east, what effects are produced ? The shades of night are dispersed, and the light of day is diffused. To what are they owing — Each to a sepa- rate, or both to the same origin ? — Every one's experience will answer the question. Thus, when the " Sun of righteousness" arises in the soul, he brings at once pardon and acceptance. Remission and salvation are under his wings. Both which consti- tute the " healing of the nations," Mai. iv. 2. ; and both owe their being to Christ's obedience, embraced as active, and not re- jected as passive. Ther. This, I know, is the fine-spun theory of your systematic divines. But where is their warrant from scripture ? By what authority do they introduce such sub- tle distinctions? Asp. I cannot think the distinction so sub- tle, or the theory so finely spun. To be released from the damnatory sentence, is one thing; to be treated as a righteous person, is evidently another- Absalom was pardoned, when he received a permission to remove from Geshur and dwell at Jeru- salem ; but this was very different from the recommencement of filial duty and parental endearment. 2 Sam. xiv. 24. A rebel may be exempted from the capital punishment which his traitorous practices deserve, with- out being restored to the dignity of his for- mer state, or the rights of a loyal subject. In Christianity likewise, to be freed from the charge of guilt, and to be regarded as a righteous pejson, are two several blessings, really distinct in themselves, and often dis- tinguished in scripture. TTier. Where are they distinguished ? in DIALOGUE X. Sa3 what texts of scripture ? This is what I called for — your scriptural warrant. Asp. What think you of Job's reply to his censorious friends ? " God forbid that I should justify you."Job. xxvii- 3. That he forgave them, there is no doubt. Yet he could not justify them ; could not allow their reflections to be equitable, or their behaviour charitable. What think you of Solomon's supplica- tion ? " Then hear thou in heaven, and do, and judge thy servants ; condemning the wicked, to bring his way upon his head ; and justifying the righteous, to give him ac- cording to his righteousness." 1 Kings viii. 32. To condemn, in this passage, evident- ly signifies, to pronounce guilty, and ob- noxious to punishment. By parity of rea- son, to justify, must denote, to pronounce righteous, and entitle to happiness. What says Solomon's father ? " Enter not into judgment with thy servant, O Lord ! for, in thy sight, shall no man living be justified !" Psalm cxliii. 2. A man might be pardoned, if judged according to the tenor of his own obedience. But no man could be declared righteous, in conse- quence of such a trial : this were absolute- ly and universally impossible. From all which passages I conclude, that to be justified is difiFerent from, is superior to, the bare remission of sin. Ther. All these instances are derived from the Old Testament; the New, if I mistake not, speaks another language. Con- sider the case of the penitent publican What does he request ? " God be merciful to me a sinner!" What does he obtain? " He went down to his house justified." Lukexviii. 13,14-. If, then, the petition and the grant may be deemed correspondent, pardon and justification must be reckoned equivalent. Asp. The Old and the New Testament are, in their style and contents, exactly cor- respondent. Echo, in yonder cloisters, does not more punctually reverberate the speaker's voice, than those divine books harmonize with each other. Yet it will not follow, from the publican's request and the publican's blessing, that par- don and justification are the same : Only that God's bounty frequently exceeds our prayers, and is larger than our expectations ; or that the blessing which was implored, and the blessing which was vouchsafed, are inseparably connected, and always accom- pany each other. St. Paul mentions "a justification of life ;" not barely an exemption from the sentence of death, but such a justification, as gives a title (Rom- i. 18,) to the reward of life. The words are very emphatical. We shall in- jure the dignity of their meaning, if we un- derstand them in a more contracted sense. Towards the close of the same chapter, we have another passage rich with consolation and full to our purpose : " Grace reigneth through righteousness unto eternal life." Rom. V. 21. Here is pointed out the prime source of all our blessings — infinitely free and triumphant grace : the meritorious cause — not any works of man, not any qua- lifications of our own, but the perfect right- eousness of our Lord Jesus Christ : the efliect or end of all — which is not barely an absolution from guilt, but an instatement in life ; a life of holy communion with God in this world, to be crowned with an eternal fruition of him in another.* Let me produce one text more, which just at this instant occurs to my memory. You will find it in the apostle's defence of himself before Festus and Agrippa. He opens, as it were, his apostolical commis- sion, and repeats the words of his royal Master : " I send thee" to ignorant and en- slaved, guilty and ruined creatures " to turn them from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan unto God ; that they may receive forgiveness of sins, and inheritance among all them which are sanctified by faith that is in me." Acts. xxvi. 18. The great preacher of the Gentiles, or rather the su- preme Lord of all preachers, has distinguish- ed between remission of sins and the inhe- ritance of saints ; between the pardon that delivers from hell, and the justification that entitles to heaven. So that the former does by no means constitute the latter ; but is connected with it, as a link in the same sacred chain ; or included in it, as part of the same glorious whole. Ther. Admitting your distinction to be proper, is not the satisfaction made by the death of Christ sufficient of itself to obtain both our full pardon, and our final happiness? Asp. Since my friend has started the question, I may venture, with all reverence to the divine counsels, to answer in the ne- gative ; it being necessary that the Re- deemer of men should obey, as well as suf- fer in their stead. For this we have the testimony of our Lord himself. " This commandment," says he, " have I received of my Father, that I should lay down my life," (John x. 18.) " Thus it becometh us," adds he in another place, " to fulfil all righteousness. " ( Matth. iii. 15.) To which his apostle subjoins, that, if we reign in life, it must be not only through those sufferings which expiate, but also through that right- eousness which merits. (Rom. v. 17.) Tlier. Our Lord's testimony relates only to a positive institution, and is quite foreign to our purpose. I have often been dis- gusted at such strained applications of scrip- ture. The partizans of a system wrest the » Accordingly, eternal life is called the hope, not of forgiveness but of righteousness. Gal. v. 5. And it is bestowed, not barely because of absolution, but because of righteousness, Rom. viii. !(>. 254 THERON AND ASPASIO. ■acred book. They deal with divine truth, as the tyrant Procustes served those un- happy creatures who fell into his merciless hands. Is a text too short to suit their design ? Our Procustean expositors can stretch it on the rack, and lengthen its sense. Is it too full to consist with their scheme ? They can lop off a limb, secrete a sentence, or contract the meaning. Is this to reverence the great God ? Is this to treat respectfully his holy word ? Asp. I have been grieved, I assure you, and disgusted at this practice, as well as yourself; a practice not only very irreverent, but very injudicious also. It really prejudices the cause it would unfairly recommend. Such a sup- port is like " a broken tooth, or a foot out of joint," (Prov. xxv. 19.) not only unser- viceable, but hurtful ; an obstruction, rather than a furtherance. However, I am not con- scious of committing any violence on this passage, or of forcing it into my ser- vice. The circumstance you object, rather strengthens than invalidates the conclusion. If it was so requisite for our blessed Me- diator to observe a positive institution, how much more necessary to fulfil those moral precepts, whose obligation is unalterable ajid everlasting ? Besides, it should be considered whether Christ's sufferings were a complete satisfac- tion to the law. Complete they were with regard to the penalty, not with regard to the precept. A distinction obvious and im- portant. From whence arises the follow- ing argument, which, for once, you will allow me to propose in the logical form. By what alone the law was not satis- fied, by that alone sinners could not be jus- tified : By Christ's sufferings alone, the law was not satisfied. Therefore, by Christ's sufferings alone, sinners could not be justified. But when we join the active wth the passive obedience of our Lord, the efficacy of the one, with the perfection of the other, how does our justification stand firm, in the fullest sense of the word. We have all that the law demands, both for our exemp- tion from the curse, and as a title to the blessing. Ther. Does not the scripture ascribe the wholeof our salvation to the d.-ath of Christ ? delivering it as a never-to-be-forgotten max- im in Christianity, That " we have redemp- tion through his blood, (Eph. i. 7.) "are brought near through the blood of Christ," (Eph. ii. 13.) nay, that "we are justified," (the very point under debate) "through his blood," (Rom. v. 9.) Would the inspired writer have assigned these various blessings to this one cause, if it had been a price in- adequate to the purchase, or a means insuf- ficient to accomplish the end ? Asp. This part of our Lord's meritorious humiliation is, by a very usual figure, put for the whole. The death of Christ in- cludes, not only his sufferings, but his obe- dience. The shedding of his precious blood was at once the grand instance of his suffering, and the finishing act of his obe- dience. In this view it is considered, and thus it is interpreted, by lus own ambassa- dor, who, speaking of his divine Master, says, " He was obedient unto death, even the death of the cross." (Phil. ii. 8.) By the same figure, faith is sometimes said to be a lively, influential persuasion, " that Christ died for our sins," (1 Cor. xv. 3.) At other times, it is represented as a firm practical belief, that " God hath raised him from the dead," (Rom. x. 9.) Neither of which can, without the utmost contrarie- ty to the analogy of Scripture, be taken in the exclusive sense. Each act must be un- derstood, not separately, but jointly ; each as implying both, or reciprocally inferring one another. In like manner, when the scripture as- cribes our justification to the death of Christ, we are not to think that it would set aside, but imply his obedience. It is not because his active obedience has no concern in procuring the blessing, but be- cause his bitter passion was the most con- spicuous, and the completing stage of his ever-glorious undertaking. Then, and not till then, he could truly say, " Father, I have finished the work thou gavest me to do." (John xvii. 4.) Ther. According to yoiu: account, then, it should be possible for a man to have all his sins done away, yet not attain to com- plete justification. Which is as contrary to sound sense and true divinity, as to imagine that crookedness may be removed and the object not become straight. Asp. No, Theron. According to my ac- count, it is impossible that the active and passive obedience of our Redeemer should be disjoined. To whomsoever the one is imputed, from him the other is not withheld. They were undivided in Christ the illus- trious head, and they are undivided in their application to his mystical body. As Christ in suffering obeyed, and, in obeying, suffer- ed ; so, whoever receives Christ as an atone- ment, receives him also as a righteousness. This has been observed before ; and if this be real fact, what an inestimably pre- cious gift is the gift of Christ ! Never was the most Sovereign remedy so admirably suited to any malady, as this is adapted to all our wants. In him may we be found, living and dying ! How safe, how happy then ! — Let me not weary your patience, if I repeat a passage from our excellent Dr. Lightfoot, which, though artless and re- markably simple, has very much affected DIALOGUE X. 255 my mind, and, I hope will leave some va- luable impression on my friend's. " Jus- tification," says that judicious divine, " is a man's being interested in all Christ's right- eousnes. And if any thing is to be longed for, sure that is to be interested in all Christ's righteousness." Ther. You do not weary my patience, neither do you satisfy my doubts. For you take no notice of the absurdity objected, and the comparison that enforces it. Asp. Your comparison, my dear friend, is not foimded on a parallel case. Neither sense nor philosophy find a medium be- tween the removal of crookedness, and the succession of straightness. But I'eason dis- cerns an apparent, and revelation maintains an important difference, between the par- don of guilt and a title to life. This has already been proved from scripture, and is, to me at least, evident from the very na- tiu'e of things. For if a king, in favour of some condemned malefactor, revoke the sentence of death, this is one very consider- able act of clemency. But if he pleases to make the pardoned criminal a partaker of his kingdom, or an heir of his crown, this surely is new, and a much higher instance of royal bounty. If you insist upon a similitude, the word of God, which always speaks with consum- mate propriety, will furnish us with one. Zechariah illustrates the doctrine of justifi- cation. He represents the sinner by a per- son arrayed in filthy garments. His par- don is described by taking away this sordid apparel. By which benefit, he ceases to be defiled, yet is he not hereby clothed, yet is he not hereby justified : This is an additional blessing, signified by putting on "change of raiment," (Zech. iii. 4, 5,) and wearing beautiful robes. Here the cir- cumstances tally. The two constituent parts of justification are severally displayed, and strongly marked. Here we have the removal of filth, and the robe of righteous- ness ; that which frees us from being ab- horred, and that which renders us accepted ; which, though distinguishable in themselves, and distinguished by the sacred writer, are always united in the divine donation. Ther. This notion is founded on a chi- merical covenant, that Christ woidd take upon him the obedience due from man, of which there is not the least intimation in holy scripture. Asp. That Christ undertook every thing necessary to redeem lost sinners from guilt and condemnation, every thing necessaiy to procure for attainted rebels a fresh title to life and glory ; this cannot be reckoned chimerical. This must be as real, as that lost sinntrs are redeemed, or attainted rebels restored ; every proof of the one proves and establishes the other. This is what we call a covenant, and, from its benign nature, the covenant of grace. Without undertaking this, I see not how our Lord could sustain the character of a surety; nor without fulfilling it, how he could execute the office of a Redeemer. And I believe you yourself will be at a loss to show, with what kind of justice the eter- nal Father could " lay our iniquities," (Isa. liii. 6,) on the innocent Jesus, unless he had consented to be answerable for our guilt. Tlier. This is no answer to my objec- tion. I said, and it has been asserted by a very eminent and able pen, that there is no intimation of any such covenant in the whole scriptures. Asp. What then can be the meaning of those remarkable words in the prophecy of Zechariah ? " The counsel of peace shall be between them both."* Here, I think, the covenant is mentioned, and the parties are specified. " The council of peace," if I mistake not, signifies the mysterious and unsearchable contrivance, formed for the recovery of ruined man — formed and carried into execution by the Lord Almighty, or God the Father, and that illustrious per- son who is to " build the temple and bear the glory." A character which none can claim, a task to which none is equal, but the blessed Jesus only. In the 40th psalm, the conditions of the covenant are circumstantially recorded, which were, the incarnation and obedience of the eternal Son : " A body hast thou ♦ Zech. vi. 12, 13. These two verses contain a brief, but very fine description of the Redeemer : of his person, his office, and his glory ; together with the all-gracious cause, and ever-blessed ftuit of our redemption. His person : He is the man ; or, as the Hebrew im- ports, the " real," but at the same time, the " illus- trious man ;" whose name is the branch, being the new origin of a new race: the father of a spiritual seed, who are children, not of the flesh, but of the promise. A branch that shall spring, not from a common root, not from any human planting, but "from under liimself," being born of a pure virgin, and by the power of his own Spirit, he shall be both stock and stem to himself. His office: it is to build the temple, the church of the elect which is the house of the living God, in which he dwells, and by whom he is worshipped, laying the foundation of this spiritual edifice in his cross, and cementing it with his blood. Which he shall rxile as a king after having redeemed it as a priest: uniting the sacerdotal censer with the regal diadem, and being a priest upon his throne. Hence proceeds his glory ; for he stands not, like other priests, offering daily the same oblations ; but hav- ing, by one sacrifice, obtained eternal redemption for us, is set down at the right hand of the Majesty on high. What is the cause of these great events ? What, but that most sacred and august convention, the counsel of peace ? which was settled betvveen them both ; between the Lord Jehovah on one hand, and the man whose name is the Branch on the other. Called a council, from the entire consent which ac- tuated each party, and the transcendent wisdom displayed in the whole scheme. " The council of peace," Jjecause of its sovereign efficacy to make peace with an olTended God, peace in the accusing conscience, peace among people of jarring tempers and discordant principles. 256 THERON AND ASPASIO. prepared me. Lo ! I come to do thy will." (Heb. X. 5, 7.) The accomplishment of these conditions is alleged and pleaded by our great Mediator, in the introduction to his last solemn prayer. (John xvii.) What he implores, in the process of his supplica- tions, may be looked upon as the recom- pense* decreed him by the Father, and stipulated in this magnificent treaty. Im- plores, did I say ? It is very observable, that our Lord makes a demand, rather than a request. The expression is not t^uru but &iKco,-f a word of authority, not of sup- plication. He claims what by the Father's engagement, and by his own obedience, was become his unquestionable right- Here are the parties of the covenant, the conditions of the covenant, the performance of the covenant, and the reward, which, by virtue of such performance, is merited, is claimable, is due. AH this, I should ima- gine, amounts to an intimation, and some- what moi'e than an intimation of the cove- nant. Tker. This you call the covenant of grace ; but if we are justified by Chiist's fulfilling of the law, we are justified by works. So that, before you can strike out such a way of salvation, you must contra- dict yoiu^self ; and, what is more adventur- ous, you must abolish that fundamental principle of the gospel, " by the works of the law shall no flesh be justified." Asp. We are, I grant it, justified by works. But whose ? The works of Christ, not our own. This is very far from contradicting ourselves, equally far is it from abolishing what you call the gospel- principle, which, though an undeniable truth, is not an evangelical doctrine ; be- cause it only shows us our miserable state, and the utter impossibility of relieving oiu"- selves. Whereas, nothing is genuine gos- pel, but what speaks comfort, and adminis- ters recovery. Between the covenant of works, and the covenant of grace, this, I apprehend, is the diflFerence : — By the former, man was in- dispensably bound to obey, in his own per- son : By the latter, the obedience of his surety is accepted, instead of his own. The righteousness required by both, is not sin- cere, but complete ; not proportioned to the abilities of fallen man, but to the puri- ty of the law, and the majesty of the Law- giver. By this means, the glory of God, as an awful sovereign, and the glory of his law, as an inviolable system, are entirely preserved and illustriously displayed. The salvation of sinners neither clashes with • This recompense is specified and promised in an- other authentictcopy 'of the same grand treaty, re- corded. Isaich xlix. 1— <3. t Not I beg, but I will. John xvii. 24. Sic volo, ticjulifo. the truth, nor interferes with the justice of the Supreme Legislator. On the contrary, it becomes a faithful and just procedure of the most high God, to justify " him that believeth on Jesus." (1 John i. 9.) Ther. When you mak-e this difference be- tween the two covenants, where is your authority from scripture ? Which of the sacred writers have taught us, that though one demanded personal, the other is content with vicarious obedience ? Asp. Which ? The fiiTt three. The most eminent historian, the most enraptur- ed poet, and the most zealous preacher. I need not inform you, that I mean Moses, David, and Paul. The testimony of David has been already recited. Moses gives us a concise, but very instructive account of the second covenant. With whom, according to his representa- tion, was it made? Mot with Adam, or any of his posterity, but with the Lord Jesus Christ, in the room and stead of both. None of the articles are proposed to a poor, impotent, ruined creature ; but the whole is c-OTisigned over to the interposing Saviour, significantly described by " the seed of the woman." It is not said, " Thy best en- deavours, O Adam ! thy true repentance and sincere obedience, shall retrieve this fatal miscarriage ; but, " the seed of the woman shall braise the serpent's head," Gen. iii. 15; the Son of the Most High, by taking thy nature, submitting to thy obli- gations, and suffering death for thy sins, shall fully repair thy loss. Christ, we see, undertook to execute the conditions. Christ was our representative in this gieat transaction. For which reason he is styled by St. Paul, " the second man," 1 Cor. XV. 48 ; and " the surety of a better covenant," Heb. vii. 22. Our help being laid upon one that is so mighty, upon one that is so faithful, the covenant is said to be " in all things well ordered and sure," 2 Sam. xxiii. 5; admirably well ordered in- deed, for the comfort of the Christian, and the security of his salvation. " It is true," may he argue, •' I cannot fulfil the condi- tions, and it is equallv true, that this is not required at my hards. The Loid Jesus Christ, of his adorably rich goodness, has performed all that was conditionary ; and has established for me and for his people a valid title to the promises, the privileges, and" Ther. " Has thereby released me froro all obligation to duty." Farewell then to our own obedience : No more occasion for any holiness of life. Nay, the sluice is open- ed for an inundation of ungodliness. Fine divinity tridy ! Should I not rather say, downright Antinomianism ! Asp. No, my friend, " Christ came not to destroy the law, but to fulfil;" Matth. v. DIALOGUE X. 257 17. He has fulfilled ft to the very utter- most in his own person. He has also mer- ited forus those supplies of the Spirit, which alone can enable weak corrupt creatures to yield faithful and acceptable obedience. Though our Lord Jesus died, and wbs obe- dient *' for the ungodly ;" though he finds us ungodly when he justifies us; yet he never leaves his people in this abotrinable state. " On the contrary, he " teaches them to deny all ungodliness and worldly lusts," Tit. ii. 12. Pray, let us consider the tenor of this covenant, since you are so very apprehensive of its consequences. " I will put my laws into their minds, and on their hearts will I write them," Heb. viii. 10. " They shall discern such a beauty and glory in my pre- cepts, as will engage their desires, and win their affections ; so that it shall be no long- er their burden, but their delight, even their meat and drink, to do the will of their Fa ther in heaven." — This, this is one of the privileges purchased by our great Mediator. And it seems wondrous strange, that the purchase of an estate for you or me, should be reckoned the sure means to deprive us of the possession, or debar us from the en- joyment- How often is this weak surmise urged as an argument ? all whose plausibility is ow- ing to a palpable mistake, or an egi'egious fallacy ; to a supposed separation of things which are absolutely inseparable — I mean our justification and our sanctification.* You are a philosopher, Theron. Try, if you can separate gravity from the stone, or heat from the fire. If these bodies and their essential properties are indissolubly connect- ed, so are a genuine faith and a conscienti- ous obedience. To suppose them disunited, is as contrary to sound divinity, as it would be contraiy to true philosophy if you should talk of a burning substance that has no warmth, or of a solid substance that has no weight. Ne\'er therefore, my dear friend, repeat this stale objection ; never propagate this ungrounded f clamour ; nor adopt a • See Isa. xlv. 24 ; 1 Cor. i. 39 ; 1 Cor. vi. 1 1 ; where these blessings walk hand in hand, and never were, never will, never can be parted. t This puts me in mind of what Theodorus replied to Philocles ; who was often insinuating, that he preached licentious doctrine, because he enlarged with peculiar assiduity upon faith in Jesus Christ ; and frequently chose such texts as, " Believe in the Lord Jesus, and thou shalt be saved." " I preach salvation by Jesus Christ ; and give me leave to ask, whether you know what salvation by Christ means ?" Philocles piused. He began to blush ; would have eluded the question, and declined an answer. "No, said Theodorus, " you must per- mit me to insist upon a reply. Because, if it be a right one, it will justify me and my conduct ; if it be a wrong one, it will prove that you blame you know not what; and have more reason to inform yourself, than to censure others." This disconcerted him still more, upon which The- odorus proceeded ; Salvation by Christ means, not cavil which is altogetlier as unphilosophical as it is anti-evangelical. Ther. We digress from the point. My principal objection is not satisfied. I was observing, that, according to your manner of stating the affair, sah'ation is no longer free, but founded upon works. They are the works of the law, though Christ performs them. To maintain that we are justified by these works, is to confound the difference between the law and the gospel. Asp. Though we should admit your pre- mises, we cannot acquiesce in your conclu- sion. The same righteousness by which we are justified, is both Icgid and evangelical : Legal, in respect to Christ, who was made under the law, that he might obey all its commands : Evangelical, in respect to us, who work not ourselves, but believe in the great Fidfiller of all righteousness. This is much of the same nature with that other momentous distinction in divinity — salva- tion is freely given, yet dearly bought : Freely given with regard to us ; dearly bought with regard to Christ. So we are justified by works, if you look forward to our Surety ; we are justified without works, if you cast a retrospective view on our- selves. Theron was silent. — Aspasio, after a short interval, renewed the discourse. I know not whether my friend is yielding to my arguments, or searching after objections ; deliberating upon a capitidation, or muster- ing his forces for a fresh sally. However, let me take this opportunity of dropping a hint, and suggesting a caution. The grand reason which inclines some people to reject this comfortable doctrii;e lies concealed, if not in an absolute disbe- lief of our Lord's eternal glory and God- head, yet in unsettled apprehensions of it, or an habitual inattention to it. If our Saviour was not really God, as some writ- ers, unhappily mistaking themselves, endea- vour to persuade the world, it would be a reasonable practice, and entirely consistent with their scheme, to disavow the imputa- tion of his righteousness : Because, upon such a supposition, his obedience was no more than bounden duty ; in which there could not be the least pretence to merit, and which could be profitable to none but himself. Whereas, if we verily believe him to be the incarnate God, his submission to the law becomes an act of voluntary humi- power of sin. " He gave himself for us that he might redeem us from all iniquity ; redeem us from our vain conversation," as well as deliver us from the wrath to come. Go now, Philocles, and tell the world, that by teaching these doctrines, I promote the cause of licentiousness. And you will be just as rational, just as candid, just as true, as if you should affirm, that the firemen, by playing the engine, and pouring in water, burnt your house to the ground only a deliverance from the guilt, but also frorn the and laid your furniture in ashci. 258 THERON AND ASPASIO. liation Which circumstance, together with the transcendent dignity of his per- son, render his obedience, not meritorious only, but inexpressibly and infinitely meri- torious. As the blood of Christ is called God's "own blood," (Acts xx. 28.) so the obe- dience of Christ was performed in the per- son of that adorable Mediator, " who is God over all," (Rom. ix. 5.) He acted through the whole course of his life, and suffered death at the last, not merely as a man, but as (ifod-man ; as Jehovah Jesus ; Emmanuel. Let me entreat you to re- member, nay let me entreat you never to forget this all-important article of our faith. And may the Spirit of wisdom give us an understanding to know the weighty, the extensive influence, of so glorious a truth ! Thcr. Far be it from me to derogate from the dignity of our Savdour's person, or to depreciate the merits of his mediatorial office. Place them as high as words can reach, exalt them as far as thought can soar, I stedfastly believe you will still fall short, immeasurably short, of their real worth. But this consideration seems to increase the absurdity of your notion : For if Christ^s righteousness, his vei-y righteousness be im- puted, then the true believers are altogether as righteous is Christ himself; whereas, if you maintain that his righteousness is im- puted only as to its effects, you will keep clear of this rock. Asp. This, I apprehend, will be like keeping clear of Scylla only to fall foul upon Charybdis. What are the effects of the Mediator's righteousness? Pardon of sin, justification of our persons, and the sanctification of our nature. Shall we say, these effects, these benefits are imputed? To talk of their imputation, I think, is an affront to sound sense ; as, I am sure, to be put off with their imputation, would be a fatal disappointment of our hopes. All these benefits are, not imputed but impart- ed ; they are not reckoned to us, but are really enjoyed by us : ours they are, not barely in the divine estimation, but by pro- per and personal possession. Yet it does by no means follow, that be- lievers are altogether as righteous as Christ himself, unless you can prove, that to be the receiver is, in all respects, the same as to be the author and finisher. (Heb. xii. 2.) The righteousness of Christ arises wholly from himself, the source of ours subsists in another, ("hrist's righteousness is origin- ally and absolutely his own ; whereas it is made ours in a way of favour and gracious imputation. Circumstances these, which create a material difference, which yield room for a vast pre-eminence. Ther. But if Christ's perfect obedience be accounted ours, methinks we sho.uld have no more need of pardoning mercy than Christ himself. Asp. Yes ; because, before this impu- tation, we were sunk in guilt, and dead in sins ; because, after it, we are defective in our duty, and in many things offend. Tlier. Does not this doctrine render the intercession of our Saviour superfluous ? What occasion have they for an advocate with the Father, whose righteousness has neither blemish nor imperfection ? Asp. They stand in need of an advocate, first, that they may be brought home to "the Repairer of their breaches," (Isaiah Iviii. 12,) and made partakers of his right- eousness by a living faith : next, that their faith may be preserved, notwithstanding all opposition, stedfast and immoveable ; or rather, may be carried on victorious and triumphant, even to the end. Ther. You say, " Clirist performed all that was conditionary ;'' then he repented for us, and believed for us. This must be admitted in pursuance of your principles : But this is so wild a notion, so contrary to reason and scripture, that to mention it is to refute it. Asp. Christ performed whatever was re- quired by the covenant of works, both be- fore it was violated, and after it had been transgressed. But neither repentance nor faith were comprehended in this institution. It knew nothing of the one, and it would not admit of the other. It was not there- fore necessary, neither indeed was it possi- ble, for our spotless and divine Lord to re- pent of sin or believe in a Saviour. But he did unspeakably more, " He put avray sin by the sacrifice of himself." (Heb. ix. 26. ) He is himself the Sa\aour of all the ends of the earth : and he has power to bestow that blessed Spirit, which worketh faith, and produceth repentance. Ther. However, from what you have advanced, this will unavoidably follow — That a man is to be justified under the character of a notorious transgressor of the law, and justified under the character of a sinless observer of the law. And what is this but a glaring inconsistency ? Asp. Not at all inconsistent, but abso- lutely needful, if we consider those dis- tinct branches of the divine law, the per- ceptive and the penal ; both which, in case of guilt already contracted, must necessarily be satisfied. Not at all inconsistent, but perfectly harmonious, if we take in the two constituent parts of justification — the ac- quittance from guilt and a title to life. The former supposes us to be transgressors of the law ; and such the highest saints in the world are. The latter requires us to be observers of the law ; and such must the inheritors of heaven be. Much less is this inconsistent, if we consider believers in DIALOGUE X. 259 rlieir personal and relative capacity ; as they are in themselves, and as they are in their Surety. Notorious transgressors in them- selves, they have a sinless obedience in Christ. The consciousness of that will be an everlasting motive to humility ; the be- lief of this, an inexhaustible source of joy. All this is no more inconsistent than the union of a gloomy contexture and a light- some splendour, in those detached clouds which float amidst the firmament. In themselves, they are a louring and dark col- lection of vapours ; by the impression of the sun-beams, they are fair and bright as the polished silver. Ther. After all, the imputation taught in scripture is not the imputation of Clirist's righteousness, but of our o\ati faith. Agreeably to the apostle's express declara- tion, " Abraham believed God, and it was imputed to him for righteousness." (Rom. iv. 3.) Asp. This objection admits the thing in dispute, though it controverts the way and manner of obtaining it ; admits the necessi- ty of some active, positive righteousness, in order to our justification. In this particu- lar, I am glad to agree w'ith my Theron ; and in this particular, I believe the generality of serious people agree with us both. When- ever their consciences are awakened, and seek to establish the hope of eternal life, tbey constantly turn their eyes to some righteousness, which they apprehend may, either in whole or in part, answer the de - mands of the law. Some look to their own sincere obedience ; others call in to their succour works of supererogation. My friend .ivould assign this office to his faith. Ther. Is this a proper answer to my ob- jection, Aspasio ? The text is point-blank against your tenet. You do wisely there- fore not to confront, but to elude the evi- dence. Asp. I did not intend it for an answer ; only as an occasional observation, which nevertheless has a pretty close connexion with the subject. Neither would I use so mean a subterfuge, as to elude an argument which I could not confute. If my friend had allowed me leisure to explain myself, this should have been my reply. That a man is not justified by works, is a position most clearly demonstrated, and a doctrine most zealously inculcated by St. Paul. That faith is a work * exerted by the human mind, is equally certain. Un- less, therefore, we would render the apostle inconsistent with himself, we must understand the passage in a qualified sense. Why • So it is called by Him, who knew what was in man, and what were the differences of things : " This is the work of God, that ye believe on him whom he hath sent,'" John vi. 29. should we not suffer him to be his o^^^l in- terpreter ? why should we not take the nar- rative of his experience for a comment on his doctrine ? He declares, that the ground of his own comfort, the cause of his own justification, was not the grace of faith, but the " righteousness which is of God by faith ;" Phil. iii. 9 ; not the act of believ- ing, but that grand and glorious object of a sinner's belief, "the Lord our righteous- ness." Besides, what was that faith of Abraham to which the apostle refers, and which he proposes as the invariable model of our jus- tification ? It was faith in the promised seed — in Jesus Christ the righteous.* It was a firm persuasion, that this illustrious person should spring from his loins, and be the author of forgiveness, acceptance, and salvation to himself, and to a multitude of believers numberless as the stars of heaven. Let us tread in these steps of the holy pa- triarch, and we shall ascribe little, ascribe nothing to our faith, but all to the infinitely excellent obedience of our Redeemer. Ther. Sure, Aspasio, you will not pre- sume to corre<"t inspiration ! The inspired writer makes no mention of a Redeemer's obedience. He says expressly and positive- ly, " It," that is, Abraham's faith, and not any thing else, " was counted unto him for righteousness." Asp. True, Theron ; as those windows are reckoned, are counted the lights of your house. Why ? Because they illuminate ? No ; but because they afford a passage to the illuminating rays. Through them, the first and best of elements is diffused into all your habitation. So "we are saved by grace through faith," by grace imputing, through faith accepting, the righteousness of Jesus Christ. Grace is the magnificent source of this nobler light, faith is the means of transmitting it into all the faculties of the soul. When our Lord declares to the diseased woman, " Thy faith hath made thee whole," Matth. ix. 22, how are we to understand his words ? That the patient's belief, and not the agency of Christ, wrought the cure ? To suppose this, would be extremely dero- gatory to the power of our great Physician. And if we ascribe justification to the act of believing, this will be equally derogatory to the obedience of our great Mediator. In the former case, Christ and his omnipotent operation were all in all. In the latter case, Christ and his infinite merit are all in all. In both cases, faith is the only eye to dis- cern, or the hand to receive, the soveieign good. I VA'ould farther observe, that faith is very particularly distinguished from the righte- * Compare Gen. xv. 6, 6, with Gal. iii. IG. 'J60 THERON AND ASPASIO. ousness which justifies. We read of the righteousness which is by faith, which is of faith. Rom. ix. 30. Phil. iii. 9. This form of expression puts an apparent difference between the evangelical faith and the evan- gelical righteousness ; since whatever is by another, and of another, cannot, without the greatest violence to reason and language, be reckoned that other. — If faith was the cause of our acceptance with God, then we should be justified by a righteousness which is con- fessedly imperfect : For who has ever at- tained to the highest degree of this virtue ? or whose faith is not mixed with an alloy of unbelief? If faith icself was the matter of our justification, I see not how boasting could be excluded ; how the law could be magnified ; or what reason the apostle could have to account all thhigs, but the righte- ousness of Christ, meaner than dross. Phil, iii. 8. Say not, that we presume to correct in- spiration : we only interpret the inspired word in an harmonious consistency with it- self. This sense is agreeable to the pre- vailing doctrine, and to the current language of scripture. To the prevailing doctrine ; which is "a believing in him who justifieth the ungodly." Sift and examine this ex- pression, " mm who justifieth." You will find that the work is Chri.'st's ; Christ's and no other's. The Holy Ghost assigns not the least share, not so much as a co-efficien- ey, to any other cause. Faith, therefore, if it presumes to arrogate this exalted pre- rogative, or if it pretends to the least part in this important business, is a sacrilegious iisuqjer. To the current language ; as when God is called our fear; Gen. xxxi. 42, 5.3 ; our hope ; Psalm Ixxi. 5. Jer. xiv. 8 ; our joy. Psalm xliii. 4. In these places, the act is undoubtedly put for the object : So, in the passage before us, the act must de- note the object of faith. It is to be under- stood, not absolutely, but as some divines speak, objectively, instrumentally, relatively. Ther. In the name of wonder, what can you mean by this heap of harsh and obscure expressions ? Let me entreat you, Aspasio, to speak in your own style, not in the dialect of Aquin;is. I have an irreconcilable aver- sion to these scholastic terms : They are the barbarisms of divinity -. I know but one use they are fitted to serve ; that is, to per- plex and puzzle a cause you cannot main- tain : Somewhat like the liquor which a certain fish, when closely pursued, is said to emit, by which the water is darkened, and the foe eluded. Asp. This, Theron, is the meaning of our uncouth phrases : It is not faith itself which justifies ; but that righteousness which faith continually views, wh'ch faith delightfully a})prchciids, and on which it finally termi- nates. To be plainer still ; we are justified by faith, in the same manner as we are fed by the hand, or as we are said to drink of a cup. Neither the hand nor the cup are the cause of our sustenance, but the instru- ments; one of conveying it, the other of receiving it.* If an apostle affirms, "'We are justified by faith ;" faith itself declares, " in the Lord I have righteousness." Put these passages together, and you will have the true sense of our doctrine, and the true doctrine of the gospel. When Themistocles fled from the malice of his own countrymen, what recommended him to the protection of king Admetus ? — Not his name ; that was obnoxious. — Not his actions ; they had been hostile. — But the person of the young prince, whom the distressed ref^igee caught up in his arms ; and charged with these credentials, present- ed himself to the royal parent.-f- So faith recommends to God, and justifies the soul, not for itself or its own worth j but on ac- count of what it presents, and what it pleads. Ther. Is not this a fanciful distinction, and an excessive refinement ? Has it any foundation in scripture? Asp. It is implied in almost all the re- presentations of Christ, and all the descrip- tions of faith, wliich occur in the sacred writings. Christ is likened to clothing ; and be- lievers are said to " have put on Christ," Gal. iii. 27. Now it caimot be the act of putting on, that covers our bodies, or keeps them warm ; but the commodious garment which is wore — He is compared to bread : " I am the bread of life." John vi. 35. Shall we say, it is the act of eating which strengthens the constitution, and recruits our spirits ? No surely ; but the food eaten and digested. Christ was typified by the " cities of refuge," Num. xxxv. 13, and sin- ners, by the obnoxious manslayer ; who, if he fled to one of those privileged abodes, * Though 1 am entirely of Theron's mind, and can by no means admire our schola.stic divines, or tlieir logical terms, yet, a remark from Para;us, couched in this style, is so pertinent to the purpose, and so full an exp'ication of the point, that it would be an injury to the cause, not to make it a part of my notes. And some readers, 1 apprehend, not much acquaint- ed with this old-fasliioned dialect, may be well enough pleased to view a specimen; may like it, as they do the rust of a medal, merely for its uncouth- ness and antiquity. " Faith justifies," says my author, " not effective- ly, as working an habitual righteousness in us, not materially, as though it were itself i he constituent cause of our justification ; but it justifieth objective- ly, asitipprehendeth Christ; and instrumentally, as it applieth his righteousness." t This, saith Plutarch, was a custom peculiar to that country ; was reckoned the most solemn method of supplicating favour: ami seldom nret with a repulse. To which I may add, it is a cuslom that Christians should imitate, in all their addresses to the God and Father of our Lord .Jesus Christ. When thus used, thus improved, it will never fail of suc- cess. DIALOGUE X. 261 and there remained, was safe. No prose- cution against him could be valid. He had nothing to fear from the avenger of blood. In this case, was it the bare act of flying that screened the criminal ? By no means. This conveyed him to a place of security. But the place itself was his sanctuary, his asylum, his safeguard. Faith is styled a receiving of Christ : " As many as received him, to them gave he power," or granted the privilege, "to be- come the sons of God. "( John i. 12.) The of- fice of faith is, according to this definition, not to contribute its quota, much less to deposit the whole sum, but to take and use the inesti- mable gift. — Faith is called " a looking unto Jesus, Heb. xii. 2. in allusion, I suppose, to the famous expedient provided for the wounded Israelites. Num. xxi. 8- Our crucified Lord was prefigured by the bra- zen serpent ; our guilt by the stings of the fiery serpents ; and our faith by looking to the miraculous remedy. Did the healing power, I would ask, reside in the mere act of viewing ? No ; but in the emblem of a dying Saviour, elevated on the pole, and ordained for the recoveiy of the people. Here all the efficacy was lodged. From hence it was all derived. The action of the eye, like the office of faith, was only to fetch home, and apply the sanative virtue. Once more : faith is represented, as *' laying hold" on God our Sa\aour ; Isa. xxvii. 5 ; " leaning" upon our Beloved, Cant, viii- 5 ; "cleaving" to the Lord, Acts xi. 23. Please to take notice of yonder vine. Its shoots are weak, and its branches are flimsy. Being absolutely unable to sup- port themselves, they are furnished with a very remarkable set of claspers ; which, like so many fingers, lay hold on the pegs of the wall, or fasten themselves to the poles within their reach. Without such a pro- vision, the boughs must lie prostrate on the ground, and be exjtosed to the insults of every foot; whereas, by this kind contri- vance of nature, so creeping a plant will climb into the air and enjoy the breeze ; so feeble a plant will stand out the winter, and defy the storms. — An instructive ad- monition to sinners ; and no ceiitemptible illustration of faith, especially in its princi- pal and most distinguishing employ. Thus let us apprehend the blessed Jesus, hold us fast by our adored Redeemer, cleave to his ineflfable worthiness, as those twining ten- drils, by repeated circumvolutions, adhere to their substantial supporters ; then shall we rise, by " merits not our own," from the most abject and miserable condition, to a state of everlasting honour and joy. Ther. Some people, I believe, would hardly forbear smiling at the peculiarity of your diction, and might be inclined to call your discourse canting, rather than reason- ing. For my own part, I must acknow- ledge, that as all your peculiar phrases are derived from the scriptures, I hear them with reverence, rather than any disposition to sneer. Was my friend delivering a La- tin oration, it would be a sufficient warrant for any of his expressions to prove that they came from the Ciceronian mint : And wiU it not be, at least, an equally sufficient authority for any modes of speech used in a theological essay, to allege that they bear the stamp of the Bible ? Though I make no objection to your language, I have yet another scruple with regard to your doctrine — Do the ancient fathers adopt or inculcate thisimputedright- eousness ? If it was so important an arti- cle of our faith, surely it could not be unknown in those early ages which were so near the apostolical fountain. It would not have been omitted by those zealous preachers, who chose to endure all the ri- gours of persecution rather than renounce their holy profession- 's/?. I think it were sufficient to answer this question by asking another. Do the apostles, does the holy Spirit of God speak- ing in scripture, inculcate this doctrine, or display this privilege ? If so, we need not be very solicitous for any farther authority. " To the law and to the testimony," (Isa. viii. 20.) is our grand, our final appeal. Amidst all the darkness and uncertiiinty, which evidently run through the writings of the best of men, this is our unspeakable happiness, that " we have a more sure word of prophecy, to which we do well to take heed." (2 Pet. i. 19.) However, to be a little more particular : It cannot be expected that we should find many passages in those pious authors, very strong and very explicit upon the point ; because in their days it was not so professedly opposed, and therefore could not be so ex- actly discussed as in the latter ages. Never- theless, they have left enough behind them to avouch the substance of what we assert, " That a man is not justified by any works, duties, or righteousness of his own, but only by faith in Jesus Christ." I cannot say that I have charged my memory with their very words, and for that reason must not attempt at present to make any citation. But, when a proper opportunity offers, and their works are before me, I may possibly produce a few of their testimonies. In the mean time, I can mention a set of writers, whose attestation will, I imagine, carry as much weight with my friend, as the united voice of the Greek and Latin fathers. Ther. Who are they ? Asp. Our venerable reformers. The ho- milies composed by those excellent divines, are as express to my purpose as they are 202 THERON AND ASPASIO. tmexeeirtionable in tliefr evidence. This is tlieir language : " The true understand- ing of this doctrine, We be justified freely by faith without works, is not, that this our act to believe, or this our faith in Christ, doth justify us, for that were to count our- selves to be justified by some act or virtue that is within ourselves. But the tnie meaning thereof is, that although we hear God's word, and believe it ; although we Lave hope and faith, charity and repentance and do never so many good works ; yet we must renounce the merit of all our virtues and good deeds, as things that be far too weak and insufficient to deserve remission of sin, and our justification. We must trust only in God's mercy, and that sacrifice which our High Priest and Saviour Jesus Christ, the Son of God, offered for us upon the cross." The homily subjoins a very opposite il- lustration, which may conclude our discourse with perfect propriety, and I hope with equal efficacy. " So that as St. John Bap- tist, although he were never so virtuous and godly a man, yet in the matter of forgiving sin, he did put the people from him, and appoint them unto Christ, saying thus unto them, " Behold !" yonder is the " Lamb of God, which taketh away the sins of the world," even so, as great and as godly a virtue as the lively faith is, yet it putteth us from itself, and remitteth us unto Christ, for to have only by him remission of sins, or justification. So that our faith in Christ, as it were, saith unto us thus. It is not that I take away your sins, but it is Christ only? and to him only I send you for that purpose, forsaking therein all your good words, thoughts, and works. And only putting your trust in Christ."'* Ther. If there be any tolerable sense of the notion under debate, I think it must be understood as follows : — Christ's perform- ance of the law of his mediation, or, in other words, his unsinning obedience to the mo- ral law, and the spotless sacrifice of him- self to the vindictive justice of God ; these are the only valuable considerations on ac- count of which the gracious God restores guilty creatures to a state of acceptance with bis divine majesty. Asp. I am far from denying your proposi- tion : I rejoice in the propriety of my The- ron's sentiments. May his faith, which is thus far advanced, be carried on by grace, till it is completed in glory ! That unsin- ning obedience, and that spotless sacrifice, are indeed the only valuable, they are also the truly, or rather the infinitely valuable consideration, which has fully merited for us the remission of sins, and the enjoyment of life ; and this not only from the gracious, * See the second part of the Homily on Salvation. but even from the just, the faithful, ihe righteous God. But then, they must be imputed, in or- der to furnish us with a claim, and invest us with a right to the purchased privileges. Suppose them not imputed, and what be- comes of our interest in them ? They are like a medicine prepared but not applied. Suppose them imputed, and they lay a firm, an apparent, a rational foundation, for every pleasing hope, and for every heavenly blessing. Ther. I fear I have acknowledged too much. — My thoughts fluctuate. My mind is unsettled- I would not withstand the truth, I would not disbelieve any doctrine of the gospel. Yet, what shall I say? While I listen to your reasoning, I am half a convert. When I recollect the objections, I revert to my first opinion. Of this, however, I am convinced, that human righteousness is insufficient for our justification. Here your arguments have carried their point. I shall henceforth place my hopes of everlasting happiness, not upon any works of my own, but upon the free- goodness and unbounded beneficence of the Supreme Being, pursuant to that max- im of Scripture, " The gift of God is eter- nal life." Asp. You do right, Theron, to expect eternal life, as the gift of God, not as the wages of your own obediential service. But be pleased to remember, that all the gifts of grace, though perfectly free to sin- ners, are founded upon a grand and ines- timable price paid by their Saviour. Are they entirely absolved from guilt ? It is be- cause Christ gave his life for their ransom ? Are they heard with acceptance when they pray ? It is because their exalted High Priest intercedes in their behalf. — Are they completely justified, and instated in endless bliss ? It is because their Redeemer's con- summate obedience is the glorious equiva- lent for this and every other blessing Therefore, when you mention eternal life as the gift of God, you should not forget to add with the holy apostle, " through Jesus Christ our Lord." (Rom. vi. 20.) Well, my Theron, what say you farther ? Is your quiver emptied ? Are your scruples satisfied ? May I interpret this silence as an act of assent ? Ther. Observe how the ranunculuses on yonder gay parterre have contracted their spreading tufts, and the tulips have closed their expanded cups, while all the neigh- bouring flowers have shut their ivory doors, or drawn their velvet curtains. Such is the state of my thoughts- They are all bent inwards, collected in themselves, and pon- dering upon your discourse, which has in- clined me, before I tvas aware, to contem- ]ilate rather than talk. You will excuse my thoughtfuhiess, Aspasioj or, if it wantu DIALOGUE XI. 263 an apology, you must blame yourself, for, had your reasons been less cogent, my at- tention had been more disengaged. Asp. My dear Theron, I shall only wish, in allusion to your own simile, and in the latiguage of the best of books, that these tiuths may " distil as the dew," upon your mind, (Deut. xxxii. 2,) and "lie all night upon your branches." (Job xxix. 19.) This, I am persuaded, is the only way to have all your comforts " green before the sun," and all your virtues "flourish as an herb:" whereas, under the influence of any other faith, I am afraid they will be as the garden that is visited with a drought, or as the leaves that are smitten with a blast. Tker. 1 shall attentively consider, both your doctrine, and your arguments ; which, that I may execute with more ease, and to better purpose, be pleased to sum up, in a few words, the substance of what has pass- ed. This done, it will be time to with- draw. The flowers, you see, are our moni- tors. They have folded up their robes, and veiled their beauties : A custom which they seldom use till the rising damps ren- der it unsafe for their master to be among them, and the surrounding gloom renders it difficult for his eye to distinguish them. Asp. You could not oblige me more, than by giving me such a command. We trust for salvation. Not on our own external duties. This were to build our house upon the sand ; which, when the rains descend, when the torrents pour, when the winds blow with tempestuous violence, will certainly fall, and bury the builder, with all his vain hopes, in irretrievable ruin. Not on the sincerity of om- hearts. This, if opposed to Christ, and made the rival of his merits, will be a " despised broken idol." Despised by the infinitely sublime and majestic Ruler of the world. Broken, with regard to the stress we lay, or the con- fidence we repose, on so deceitful a prop. No more able to stand in the judgment of the great day, than Dagon was able to maintain his station before the ark of the Lord God of Hosts. (1 Sam. v. 3, 4.) Not upon oiu: faith. This is often weak, as the rickety child : sometimes quite faint, like a person in a deep swoon ; always im- perfect, like every other performance of ours. Alas ! to what afllicting fears, to what giievous despondency should I, for my pait, be perpetually liable, if my owti faith was the ground of my justification ? Blessed be the Father of mercies ! we have a surer support. Not upon faith, not upon ^aitb, but upon its gracious Author, and glorious object, is the hope of Israel found- ed. ^ Yet, Not upon our Lord's righteousness, con- sidered only as passive ; but upon his ac- tive and passive obedience united : all that he did in conformity to the commands of the law, and all that he suffered, in submis- sion to its penalty. Both which, immense- ly dignified by his divine natm'e, are a basis for our faith which nothing can shake, are a foundation for our affiance, which can never be removed. Nothing else, in any creature, or in all worlds, could expiate the least sm. This not only expiates all sin, but g^ves a title to every blessing — to the blessings of grace and of glory, of evange- lical holiness ajid everlasting happiness. DIALOGUE XL Asp. I HAVE often purposed, and as often forgot, to ask my Theron what pictm-e he was so attentively surveying, when I stole unperceived upon him in this favourite ar- bour,* Ther. 1 was indulging a pensive pleasure, in viewing the ruins and contemplating the fate of Babylon — that renowned and opu- lent city ! once the residence of the Assy- rian monarchs, and capital of one of the greatest empires in the world. The draught I held in my hand represented some of its lemains. And indeed this was the veiy last subject which employed my thoughts. In the morning my son brought me his ob- servations upon the scene, wliich I have jus? now been revising. For I frequently set him to exercise his judgment or display his fancy on re- maikable passages which occur in histoiy He was lately commissioned to determine a controversy between the illustrious Leoni- das and the less celebrated Paedaretus. This was the point in debate Which of them discovered the truest generosity of spirit, and the most heroic love of their coun- try ? The former, who willingly sacrificed his life in its defence ? or the latter, who, when he was candidate for a seat among the three hundi-ed, and lost his election, instead of being chagrined or dissatisfied, went home, unfeignedly rejoicing, " that there were found in Sparta, three hundred men, more worthy than himself?" The task of this day was, to give a descriptive pic- ture of those wonderful ruins. Asp. Pray let me have the pleasure of hearing the young gentleman's peiformance. Ther. It will be too long, and too puer- ile ; tire your patience, and offend your taste. Asp. I do not use to make either of these complaints, when I am entertained with Theion's compositions j and, as the son has so much of his father's genius, I ♦ ijee Dialogue V. 264 THERON AND ASPASIO. am iiot at all apprehensive of any such dis- appointment. We have a most agreeable situation, and more than an hour's leisure : I must therefore repeat my request. TTier. It is true, I have retouched the sketch, which may render it somewhat more tolerable. And since you persist in your demand, I will read the paper. Only de- siring some allowance for a little luxuriancy of imagination, which, in young writers it may be advisable to indulge rather than repress, as age and judgment will probably come with the pruning knife, and make the proper retrenchments. I must farther ob- serve, that contrary to the custom which prevails in our schools, I generally choose to have him express his sentiments in En- glish ; because it is in this language he must communicate his own, and become acquainted with the ideas of others; be- cause, to acquire some good degree of pro- priety and fluency in this his native tongue, will be incomparably more serviceable, than to speak Latin with the Tarentine elegance, or to write it wth the Ciceronian copious- ness. Is this Babylon ? the gloiy of kingdoms ! the beauty of the Chaldean excellency ! Where once the gorgeous east, with richest hand, Shower'd on her kings barbaric pearl and gold. How is she fallen ! fallen from the height of magnificence into the abyss of confusion ! What was once the object of universal ad- miration, is now a spectacle of astonish- ment and horror. The palace, where majesty sat enthron- ed, like some terrestrial deity, is a heap of rubbish ; no longer distinguished by an air of superior elegance, but by stronger and more melancholy marks of departed dignity.* Where the nobles of that sumptuous court trailed along the marble pavement their robes of purple and embroidery, there the crested snake hisses, or the fierce envenom- ed adder glides. How changed is the hospitable hall, and how disgraced the room of state ! The first afforded a constant and cordial reception to the welcome guests ; in the last the great king gave audience to his cringing, his ador- ing vassals. Now thorns overrun the circumference, and " desolation sits in the threshold of them both !" AVliere are the roofs of ivory, painted with veniiillion and adorned with sculpture ? the radiant roofs, whose lamps of burnished silver, pendent » Benjamin, a Jew of Tuilela, in his Itinerary, written about the year of our Lord 1170, tells us, " That he was upon the place where tliiscity former. ly stood, and found it wholly desolated and' destroy- ed. Only some ruins of Nebuchadnezzar's palitce were slill remaining, but men were afraid to go near them, by reason of the manv ^erpcnts and siorpions that were then in the i>lace.' in many a blazing row, jaelded light as from another sky? Swept from their founda- tions, they lie clotted with defiling dirt, or clasped with tangling briers. Music no longer pours her harmony through the spa- cious and extended apartment ; but the night-owl, nestling in some cleft of the ruins, screams her harsh and portentous dis- sonance. Joy no longer leads up the sprightly dance amidst the lustre of that ar- tificial day ; but the solitary bat flits in si- lent circles, or flaps her sooty wings. All those gay delights, let the sons of sensuality hear the tale, and take warning from the catastrophe ! — all those gay delights are ex- tinguished, like one of their feeblest tapers, which, having illuminated for a while the festive assembly, shone itself to the edges of the exhausted socket, and, in a moment flashed into stench and darkness. The walls, though cemented with bitu- men,* and consolidated into the fumness of a flint, are become like the broken bub- ble. There was a time when the inhabi- tants, confiding in the strength of their bul- warks and the multitude of their towers, looked down with fearless disdain on the army of besiegers. But noAv the prophet's threatening is most terribly fulfilled : " The fortress of the high fort of thy walls hath he brought down, laid low, and brought to the ground, even to the dust," Isa. xxv. 12. — Where are the gates, the grand and glit- tering gates,t which admitted the triumph- ant hosts, or poured forth their numerous legions against the day of battle ? Not one trace remains to tell the inquisitive stran- ger, " Here the spacious avenues opened ; here the massy portals rose. Commodious walks, in which the clustering merchants raised the busy hum, and planned the schemes of commerce ; ample streets, in which in- dustry drove the toiling car, or smote the sounding anvil, are shrouded with matted grass, or buried beneath the rankest weeds. Silence, in both places, a sullen silence reigns ; and inacti\dty, a death-like inacti- vity slumbers. What is become of those hanging gar- dens, which, for curious contrivance and stupendous workmanship were never equal- led in any nation under heaven ? Terraces that overlooked the tallest houses! Parterres exalted to the clouds, and opening their flowery beauties in that strange region ! Groves, whose very roots were higher than • The walls were built of brick, and cemented with a glutinous kind of slime, which binds more firmly than any mortar, and soon grov/s harder than the bricks or stones themselves. t There were no less than an hundred gates, all of solid brass. Hence it is, that when Jehovah pro- mises to make Cyrus master of Babylon, he speaks in this very remarkable and particularizing manner, "I will break in pieces before thte the catM of brass," Isa. xlv. 2. DIALOGUE XI. 265 the tops of the loftiest trees ! — they are now smitten by a dreadful blast. Their beauty is decayed, like a withered leaf. Their very being is gone, " like the chaff of the summer threshing floors, which the wind carrieth away, and its place is nowhere found." Dan. ii. 35. What was once the favourite retreat of a queen, and the admi- ration of the whole world, is now a nest for poisonous reptiles, and a kennel for raven- ous beasts — The traveller, instead of ex- patiating with delight where this pensile paradise flourished, is struck with horror, keeps at a trembling distance, and, surveying tlie rueful spot, cries out, " Righteous art thou, O Lord, and true are thy judgments !" Here stands an obelisk, maimed by the stroke of revolving years, like a mountain- oak shattered by the flaming bolt. An- other, all unhinged and quite disjointed, seems to tremble before every blast that blows. There the pyramid,* firm as the solid rock, and stable, one would have thought, as the everlasting hills, wrenched from its mighty base, is tumbled headlong in enormous ruin, and has crushed many a structure by its fall. — See yonder the tri- umphal arch, which exhibited through its extensive and beautiful bend an advanta- geous view of the firmament. It was once the graceful memorial of some celebrated victory ; it is now converted into a trophy of a veiy diflferent kind. Just retaining two uneven, battered, ragged stumps, it sen'es to recognise the destructive ravages of time. Spires that pierced the clouds, and shot into the skies, are levelled with the trodden soil. On pinnacles, to which the strong-winged bird could hardly soar, the gi'ovelling worm crawls, and the sordid snail leaves her slimy tract. Baths that contained the translucent wave, and were so often perfumed with odoriferous un- guents, are choaked with filth ; the grand colonnade that siurounded them is shiver- ed to pieces, and the elevated dome that covered them is dashed to the ground. The public aqueducts, which conveyed cleanliness and health along their crystal currents, are degenerated into a stagnating lake, while croaking vermin swarm among the weeds, and noisome exhalations steam from the mire. August and stately temples that seemed to affect the neighbourhood of heaven, + are sunk to the very dust. — Who can point * Strabo calls the temple of Belus a pyramid, lib. 15. t A tower in the temple of Belus, and dedicated to his worship, was very high. It consisted of eight piles of building erected one above another. It arose to the elevation of six hundred feet perpendicular, and is thought, by the learned Bochart, to have been part of that superb work which was begun when the whole earth was of one language; but miscarried, or rather was providentially defeated, by the confusion oi' tonguts. In this structure, there were doubtless the spot where the consecrated victim bled, or the sacred fire glowed ? where the sceptered image lifted its majestic head, or the venerating crowds bowed the sup- pliant knee ?• Degrading are those splen- did vanities, and cast (according to the de- nunciation of the sacred oracles) "to the bats and to the moles." Isa. ii. 20- All is low ; low as the spurious dignity of the idols they complimented ; low " as the straw that is trodden down for the dunghill," Isa- -xxv. 10. Sepulchres, the once venerable reposito- ries of the dead, awful mansions destined to everlasting concealment, are cleft and rent asunder. They disclose the horrid se- crets of the pit, and frightfully yawn upon the blasted day. Possibly some ravenous creature liu-ks \vithin, that has already rifled the tomb of its hero, given the putrid bones a new grave, and waits only for the ap- proach of night to repeat his funeral dirge in yells. Inscriptions, designed to perpe- tuate some illustrious character, or eter- nize some heroic deed, are blended in the promiscuous mass. In vain would the pry- ing antiquary search for a legible or consis- tent sentence ; in vain attempt to find the memorable names of a Nebuchadnezzar or a Ninirod. These, though engraven on plates of brass, or cut in blocks of marble, are lost amidst the stupendous lumber, as prints on the unsteady sand are effaced when returning tides smooth the furrowed beach. Here and there a straggling cypress rises, as it were, with funereal solemnity amidst the waste, t Somewhat like the black pliunes nodding over the mournful hearse, they augment the sadness of the scene, and throw a deeper horror on all below. No human voice is heard, nor human face seen, amidst these desolated heaps ; too dreary even for the roam of hoaiy hermit, or the cell of gloomy monk. Abandoned they are, totally abandoned, to the dominion of soli- tude, or else to the unmolested resort of shaggy monsters, and feathered hags, which stun the midnight hours ; these with their importunate shrieks ; those with their exe- crable howls. See to what a despicable, what an ab- horred state, the proudest monuments of earthly grandeur, and the most costly appa- ratus for earthly felicity, may be reduced ! very strong traces of that arrogant boast, " Let us build us a city and a tower, whose top may reach to heaven." Gen. xi. 4. * Alluding to that prodigious instance of profuse- ness, ostentation and idolatrous madness, " The gol- den image set up in the plam of Dura, whose height (that is the height of the statue and pedestal taken together) was threescore cubits," Dan. iii. 1. t Rauwolf, a German traveller, who passed that way in the year of our Lord 157-4, says, "This coun- try is so dry and barren, that it cannot be tilleil, and so bare, that J should have doubted whether the po- tent Babylon did stand there, if I had not knowi it by several ancient and delicate antiquities that aie still standing hereabout in great desolation." 2m TIIERON AND ASPASIO- A pregnant and alaiming proof, that, for lasting honour, or real happiness, " They build too low, who build beneath the skies." Asp. I very much approve the choice of your subject. The ruins of Persepolis would have given us a view of magnificence in abasement : The ruins of Palmyra might have showed us elegance in the dust : But the ruins of Babylon display, at once, mag- nificence and elegance under an eclipse. Scripture and revelation in their glory. — The utter destruction of this city, which was absolutely unequalled in every instance of dignity, and seemingly invincible by any enemy, must certainly have been looked up- on as the most improbable of events. Never- theless, its utter destruction was decreed by Jehovah, and denounced by his prophet, several ages before the execution took place. The awful sentence was not only denounced, but recorded, and is still remaining, in the public archives of our religion. Ther. Where is this sentence recorded, and remaining? Asp. In the prophecy of Isaiah ; and not only recorded, but in the most circumstan- tial manner, and with a minute detail of the horrible desolations. These are the words of the inspired writer: "Babylon, the glory of kingdoms, the beauty of the Chal- dees' excellency, shall be as when God overthrew Sodom and Gomorrah. It shall never be inhabited ; neither shall it be dwelt in from generation to generation ; neither shall the Arabian pitch tent there ; neither shall the shepherds make their fold there. But wild beasts of the desert shall lie there, and their houses shall be full of doleful creatures; and owls shall dwell there, and satyrs shall dance there, and the wild beasts of the islands shall cry in their desolate houses, and dragons in their pleas- ant palaces." Isa. xiii. 19 — 22. In the two first sentences is comprised the most finished picture of prosperity and grandeur. " The glory of kingdoms ;" be- yond every other royal seat, spacious, orna- mented, and wealthy ; revered by many conquered and tributary dominions as their mistress and their sovereign. The beauty of the Chaldees' excellency:" the Chaldeans, who excelled all the nations of the earth in riches, in splendour, and in power, even they gloried in this wonderful city. This was the highest honour of the most illustri- ous, and chief strength of the most victori- ous people : fairest, where all was conspi- cuously fair ; noblest, where all was super- eminently noble. Yet this distinguished, this crowning city, shall, at the blasting of the breath of Jehovah, be totally, totally destroyed, even " as when God overthrew Sodom and Gomorrah," In describing the o\'erthrow, the proi)hct is equally admirable, and rises, by a most judicious gradation, into all the pomp of horror : q. d. " Now, indeed, it is thronged with citizens ; but the hour is coming, when it shall be entirely depopulated, and not so much as a single inhabitant left. Lest you should think that, in process of time, it may be re-edified, and again abound with joyful multitudes, it shall never be inhabit- ed more ; no, never be dwelt in any more, from generation to generation, but shall continue a dismal waste through all suc- ceeding ages : A waste so dismal, that none of the neighbouring shepherds shall make their fold, or find so much as an occasional shelter for their flocks, where kings, gran- dees, and crowds of affluent citizens, repos- ed themselves in profound tranquillity. Even the rude and roving Arabian shall not venture to pitch his tent, nor be able to procure for himself the poor accommo- dation of a night's lodging, where millions of polite people basked in the sunshine of profuse prosperity. In short, it shall neither be habitable nor accessible but " a dwelling place for dragons, an astonishment and a hissing." (Jer. li- 37.) What was once the golden city, (Isaiah xiv. 4,) and the metropolis of the world, shall be an ever- lasting scene of desolation and horror ; a fearful monument of divine vengeance, and an awful admonition to human pride." All this is foretold in Scripture ; and though to human appearance impossible, though to human apprehension incredible, was, in the appointed time, most minutely accomplished. The memorials and evi- dences of the accomplishment remain to this very day. They are so authentic, that the most inquisitive curiosity cannot doubt ; and so incontestible, that the most bigoted incredulity will not deny. And should not this teach us to reverence the authority, to admire the wisdom, and confide in the pro- mises, of that heavenly volume ? I know you are not fond of compliments, Theron. Therefore, instead of speaking my opinion of your son's performance, I will endeavour to retmii your favour. You have entertained me with an account of the most memorable ruins extant in the mate- rial world. Let me present my friend with a picture of ruins no less remarkable, far more deplorable, and unspeakably interest- ing to us all. I shall give it in the colour- ing of a great master, whose works this very day I happened to be perusing. The passage displays a doctrine of the utmost importance in the Christian scheme, and by one of the finest pieces of imagery to be met with in elegant writing. I think it maybe looked upon as a practical improve- ment of Eugenio's declamation. It pleased me so much that I transcribed it ; and I make no apology for reading it, because I DIALOGUE XI. •>(i7 Khiill exj)oct your thanks. Only kt me hint, that it considers the human soul as originally a habitation of God through the Spirit, and then, speaking of its fallen con., dition, proceeds; " That he hath withdrawn himself, and left this his temple desolate, we have many sad and plain proofs before us. ' The state- ly ruins are visible to every eye, that bear in their front (yet extant) that doleful in- scription— Here God once dwelt. Enough appears of the admirable frame and struc- ture of the soul of man, to show the divine presence did sometime reside in it ; more than enough of vicious deformity to pro- claim he is now retired and gone. The lamps are extinct, the altar overturned ; the light and love are now vanished, which made the one shine with so heavenly brightness, the other burn with so pious fervour. The golden candlestick' is displaced, and thrown away as a useless thing, to make room for the throne of the prince of darkness. The sacred incense, which sent, rolling up in clouds, its rich perfumes, is exchanged for a poisonous, hellish vapour ; and here is, 'instead of a sweet savour, a stench.' The comely order of this house is turned all into confusion ; the ' beauties of holiness' into ' noisome impurities ;' the ' house of prayer to a den of thieves," and that of the worst and most horrid kind ; for evei-y lust is a thief, and every theft is sacrilege. Con- tinual rapine and robbery is committed upon holy things. The noble powers which were designed and dedicated to divine contem- plation and delight, are alienated to the ser- vice of the most despicable idols, and em- ployed into the vilest intuitions and em- braces, to behold and admire lying vani- ties ; to indulge and cherish lust and wick- edness. " There is not now a system, an entire table of coherent truths to be found, or a frame of holiness, but some shivered par- cels. How many attempts have been made since that fearful fall and ruin of this fab- ric, to compose again the truths of so many several kinds into their distinct orders, and make up frames of science or useful know- ledge ! and, after so many ages, nothing is finished in any kind. Sometimes truths are misj)laced, and what belongs to one kind is transferred to another, where it will not fit- ly match ; sometimes falsehood inserted, which shatters or disturbs the whole frame. Andwhat with much fruitless pains is done by one hand, is dashed in pieces by another; and it is the work of a following age to sweep away the fine-spun cobwebs of a former. And those truths which are of greatest use, are least regarded ; their tendency and design dre overlooked, or, they are loosened and toni off, that they cannot be wrought in, so as to take hold of the soul ; but hover, as faint ineffectual notions, that signify nothing. Its very fundamental powers are shaken and disjointed, and their order towards one an- other confounded and broken : So that what is judged considerable, is not considered; what is recommended as eligible and lovely, is not loved and chosen. Yea, the truth which is after godliness, is not so much dis- believed, as hated, held in unrighteousness ; and shines as too feeble a ' light,' in that ma- lignant darkness, which ' comprehends it not.' You come amidst all this confusion, as into the ruined palace of some great prince, in which you see here the fragments of a no- ble pillar, there the shattered pieces of some curious imagery; and all lying ne- glected and useless amongst heaps of dirt. — He that invites you to take a view of the soul of man, gives you but such another prospect, and doth but say to you, ' Behold the desolation,' all things rude and waste. So that, should there be any pretence to the divine presence, it might be said, ' If God be here, why is it thus ? The faded glory, the darkness, the disorder, the impu- rity, the decayed state in all respects of this temple, too plainly show, ' The great inha- bitant is gone.' "* Tker. Your painter, I must own, is a master in his profession ; and seems to have a peculiar talent for a night-piece. — But why, I beseech you, so much of his shades and solemnity ? Has he no colours but the dark ? no lineaments but the sour ? Could he not allow us one bright tint, one smiling feature, when he was copying the noblest being in this sublunary world ? — Is it for the honour of the great Creator to give such a deformed draught of his most finished workmanship ? Asp. It reflects no kind of dishonour upon the architect of Babylon, that its palaces are fallen, its edifices demolish- ed, and its walls levelled with the ground. They might have been built with the exactest symmetry, and once embellished with every graceful ornament, notwith- standing the stroke of violence, or the sap of years, have now reduced them to heaps of rubbish. The human soul, when recent from the inspiration of the Almighty, was bright with knowledge, amiable with virtue, and, in every respect excellent. But how — to speak in the language of the moiurning prophet, a language never more pertinent than on the present occasion — " how is the gold become dim ! how is the most fine gold changed !" Ther. Man's soul is rational and eternal ; is the offspring of the Deity, and capable of resembling its Maker. Asp. What Milton allows to the fallen > Sec Mr. Howe's treatise cntitlca The living teini>le. 268 THERON AND ASPASIO. archangel, I caii readily allow to fallen man : -He had not lost All his original brightness. The grand and distinguishing faculties of the soul remain. Just as when a fountain is poisoned, the wsiters continue to flow ; but flow no longer with health, flow rather with death in the stream. These very faculties, unless renewed and regulated by the influ- ence of religion, must be our present misery, and will prove our everlasting curse. " The soul," you say, " is rational, is eternal." And do not even the devils possess the powers of reason ? Is not their existence also of an endless duration ? Yet are they, of all crea- tures, the most execrable and the most miser- able. You call the human soul the oflTspring of tlie Deity; and you call it properly. Must we not then adopt the prophet's exclama- tion, " How art thou fallen, O Lucifer, son of the morning!" (Isa xiv. 12.) How art thou degenerated, O man, son of the Most High ! Thy glorious original serves only to set forth, with more glaring evidence, thy deplorable apostacy." Capable, you add, of resembling its Maker. This, I ack nowledge is a valuable prerogative : In this the infernal spirits have no share. But this capacity will al- ways lie dormant, will never awaken into act, never be established in habit, unless Almighty grace intervene. Ther. The most celebrated philosophers of antiquity frequently exhort their readers to follow natiu-e as a certain guide to true excellence. Many eloquent writers of our own country enlarge upon the dignity of human nature, and from this topic derive very forcible arguments for a correspondent dignity both of sentiment and beha%nour. Upon what can those principles of the an- cient sages, and of our later moralists, be founded ? Asp. Indeed, Theron, I am at a loss to tell. If they have any foundation, it is merely imaginary; not laid on truth, nor confirmed by experience. According to my apprehension, they invert the order of things ; they take that for a postulatum which ought to be ranked among the desi- derata, and make an axioHl of a mere fig- ment. Had man continued as he was created, to act according to nature and according to the law of God, woidd have been one and the same thing. For which reason we find no precepts of religion, no delineation of morality, given to Adam in paradise ; be- cause religion and morality were engraven on his heart ; or rather, they residted from the very bent and tendency of his perfect frame. But since the fall it is quite other- wise. Ther. Have not many of the ancient worthies been living confutations of your opinion ? wise philosophers, judicious law- givers, and steady ministers of justice ? their desires refined, their affections bene- volent, their whole conduct upright. Asp. I cannot forbear ^^'ondering, that you should instance in lawgivers and min- isters of justice ; since the very institution of their office presupposes the depravity of mankind. Was human nature agitated by no irregular or vicious inclinations, the bar- rier of laws would be as needless in civil societies, as the. vast banks of Holland are needless in our upland counties. But this, you will say, is a digressive observation ; — your question requires a po- sitive answer. And it is easy to answer — that the painting is beyond the life. If my author has been too free with the dark, my friend has been too lavish of the glittering colours. Those famous men might aim, perhaps, at the excellency you describe. Not one of them came up to the mark ; or, suppose they did, this would not invali- date my tenet. Ther. This would not invalidate your tenet ! Then demons ti'ation carries no con- viction. Asp. Pray, who is your greatest favour- ite among all the renowned persons of an- tiquity ? Ther. Socrates He stands at the head of the class ; and was, indisputably, the wisest and the best of the heathen world. Asp. I think so too. Be pleased, how- ever, to recollect the story of the physiog- nomist, who pretended to discover the dis- position of the mind by the cast of the countenance. The professor of this occult science undertook, you know, to exercise liis skill upon Socrates ; and pronounced him, after an examination of his features, lascivious, passionate and morose. This judgment, so extravagantly wide of the truth, was bringing a storm of ridicule and resentment upon the poor fortune-teller ; when the ingenuous philosopher interposed, and owned the description to be exactly true ; that such was his natural temper ; and if his conversation had been of a dif- ferent turn, it was owing to the aids of philosophy. So that, even in your most finished character, there was no innate dig- nity. All was adventitious. Ther. If corrujition was derived unto all men, from their forefather Adam, methinks all should be equally corrupt. But this is contrary to known fact. Some we see na- turally loving and lovely, gentle in their manners, and subject to no inordinate ap- petites. Aap. Some persons may be of more com- posed, or, if you please, of less dissolute manners, than the generality of other pco- DIALOGUE XI. 269 pie. Thanks to a better temperature of their constitution, or a more watchful care in their education. But show me the uu- regenerate man, who is subject to no inor- dinate appetites. One vile aifection may check another, or a sense of decency may hold the curb upon aU. But it is one thing to have the wild beast m the heart chained ; another, to have him expelled, or the lion transformed into a lamb. Tlier. Have we not often observed he- roic courage, and a generosity of spirit, where the education has been none of the strictest ? To what can Ave ascribe these laudable qualities, but to the innate virtue and nobleness of the temper, working with- out any auxiliary succours ? Asp. Virtue, Theron, is a complete as- semblage, not some disjointed shreds, of laudable qualities. Those you mention, if not accompanied with the whole circle of amiable accomplishments, are no more to be called virtue, than two or three scattered fragments of an edifice are to be honoured with the appellation of a house. How often are those very persons, Anth all their forti- tude, slaves to ignoble pleasures, or in bondage to the basest lusts? A most in- fallible indication that they have no uniform generosity nor any real courage. Desire of fame may prompt to many such acts as dazzle the superficial eye, which yet are far, very far from genuine virtue. Tlier. Do you then attribute the Grecian politeness, and the high Roman spirit, all the gallant actions of their heroes and ge- nerals, to a desire of fame ? Asp. There is reason to suspect, that they derived their origin from some impro- per motive : And no motive was more art- fully instilled, or more assiduously cherish- ed, than the spirit of ambition. View their crowns, their statues, their triumphal so- lemnities ; read their orators, their histori- ans, their poets. The former were the school, the latter were the masters, to in- culcate this grand lesson. Let us consider the Romans a little more attentively; and not amidst the dregs of their community, but in their very best siges, when their republic subsisted, and their Scipios nourished. Many great and shining deeds were undoubtedly performed ; but did they spring from a reverential re- gard to the Supreme Being, from obedience to his will or zeal for his honour ? If this principle should be thought too refined, did they proceed from a love to their fellow-creatures ? In case neither of these motives* actuated their conduct, it ♦ A zeal for the honour of God, and a concern for the good of our fellow-creatures, are the true sources of virtue. 1 Cor. x. 24, 31. When our actions flow not from these principles, reason will put a query up- on them, and revelation will expunge them from the citn never be placed to the account of vir- tue— Had benevolence been their leading principle, why such inhumanity to Car- thage ? why must that opulent city be laid in ashes, and her numerous citizens be put to the sword ? Were they enemies to man- kind, or a nuisance in the world ? You well know, that they were only too industrious, and too powerful ; by which means, they would be in a condition to eclipse the mag- nificence of the Roman name, and dispute tlie prize of sovereignty with the Roman state. For this crime — a crime in Ambi- tion's eye absolutely inexcusable — even Ca- to's upright soul shall doom them to utter destruction, and Scipio's gentle hand shall execute the horrid decree. Is this virtue ? Does virtue ravage coun- tries, from the mere wantonness of pride or lust of pre-eminence ? Does virtue destroy millions of lives, only to aggrandize a par- ticular people, or extend the dominon of some favourite empire ? If this were virtue, Brutus thought too honourably of her char- acter when he termed her an empty name. I am sure my Theron has juster notions of things. He need not be informed that true virtue, far from personating the rapa- cious harpy, acts as a father to others, as a father to all ; and like him who is both its pattern and its author, " goes about doing good." Tlier. The most elegant cane, if plung- ed into yonder basin while the waters are curled by the breeze, will appear both crooked and coarse. I cannot but think the accusers of human nature examine her state with a prejudiced understanding, which has the same perverse effect upon their judgment as those ruffled waves have upon the sight. Or else they contemplate her condition with a melancholy mind ; which, like a jaundiced eye, gives every object a distempered aspect, darkens the cheerful, discolours the beautiful, and hangs even the siui in mourning. Asp. Rather let this be the comparison to illustrate our point, view the meanest piece of earth through the prismatic glass, and it will appear, not beautiful only, but perfectly splendid. Remove the delusory medium, and all the sophisticated finery vanishes. The indigo, the orange, the vio- let are gone, and leave nothing to be seen, but a rude unornamented lump of clay. So, if we consider human nature according to the partial representations of self-love, or contemplate it in the flattering mirror of some popular writings, it may seem re- list of virtues. They may be specious inthemselvcs; they may be costly to the performer ; they may even be serviceable to others ; but can no more deserve the title of virtue, than the activity of our fire- men, in extinguishing the flames on some insured house, can merit the name of charity. 270 THERON AND ASPASIO. gular, holy, excellent : But, if we behold it under the light, the unerring light of re- velation, its fancied charms disappear ; it stands clothed with deformity, and is a spectacle of commiseration, if not of hor- ror. Ther. What reason have you to father such a notion upon the sacred writings ? The sacred writings inform us, that man was made " after the image of God." This, sure, could not be so dishonourable and depraved a pattern as your discourse would insinuate. Asp. Far, very far from a dishonourable pattern ! The image of God is the consum- mate standard of all perfection. In con- formity to this admirable exemplar, our first parents were created ; and in this ad- mirable condition they continued, till, by transgression, they fell — fell from the most holy and happy state, into guilt, con- demnation, and ruin. Therefore when this fatal catastrophe had taken place, the sacred historian varies his syle, and with a re- markable peculiarity, as well as propriety of speech, says " Adam begat a son in his own* (not in the divine) likeness." That every reader may advert to this melancholy, but important truth, it is marked more strongly still, it is enforced by a very em- phatical repetition : " After his own image," Moses adds (Gen. v. 3.); as contradistin- guished to the image of God, mentioned in a preceding verse. Which expressions are evidently intended to denote the difference between the state in which Adam was cre- ated and Seth was begotten. Ther. Pray let me have a succinct, but full account of this tragical story, since all your orthodox divines lay such a mighty stress upon the doctrine of the fall. Asp. God, having formed the human body out of the ground, animated the struc- ture with a living soul ; and transcribed upon this soul the image of his blessed Self. All was light in the understanding, all was rectitude in the will, and nothing but harmony in the affections. — Man, thus endowed, was placed in the delightful gar- den of Eden, and furnished with every ac- commodation which was necessary to sup- port his being, or desirable to gratify his senses. He was constituted lord of this lower creation ; and, amidst numberless in- dulgences, received only one — easy — nega- tive command, " not to eat of the tree of the knowledge o'' good and evil." From this he was to abstain, as a pledge of his sub- jection, and as an exercise of his obedience. Bliss and immortality were to be the re- ward of duty ; misery and death the pun- ishment of disobedience : " In the duy thou eatest thereof, thou shalt surely die," (Gen. ii. 17,) was the sanction of the divine law. How equitable! how gracious the terms ! Yet neither the goodness of God could in- duce him to keep them, nor the authority of God deter him from breaking them. Unreasonably discontented, even with such advantageous circumstances, and presump- tuously aspiring to be like the Most High, he hearkened to the suggestions of the evil spirit. In a word, he violated the precept, and incurred the penalty. God was just, and man was undone. He lost his up- rightness,* became subject to mortality, and, as the nervous original expresses it, " died the death." Ther. True, he became subject to many bodily infirmities, and to the necessity of final dissolution. But what has this sen- tence, or what have these sufferings to do with your notion of universal depravity in the mind ? The death which the Almighty Legislator threatened, can be opposed only to the life which the Almighty Crea- tor gave. Asp. Be it so. — The Creator gave, and man possessed, a life incomparably more excellent than that which the pulse imparts, or the beasts enjoy. He possessed a divine life, which, according to the definition of the apostle, consisted " in knowledge, in righteousness, and true holiness." (Eph. iv. 24; Col. iii. 10.) This, which was the distinguishing gloiy, and the supreme feli- city of his nature — this, alas ! was extinct. His understanding, originally enlighteTied with wisdom, was clouded and overwhelmed with ignorance. — His heart, once filled with religious veneration, and warmed with heavenly love, became alienated from God his Maker. His passions and appetites, instead of moving on in orderly array, ac- cording to the beauteous measures of truth and duty, grew mutinous, shook off the go- vernment of reason, and ran wild into the most lawless extravagancies — In a word, the whole moral frame was unhinged, dis- jointed, broken. Ther. What cause have you to suppose, that all this misery was cither included in the threatening, or introduced by the fall? Asp. The ignorance of fallen Adam was palpable : witness that absurd attempt to hide himself from the eye of Omniscience among the trees of the garden — His aver- sion to the all-gracious God was equally plahi ; otherwise he would never have fled from his Maker, but rather have hasted, ♦ This is affirmed, not of Cain, but of Seth, the most excellent of Adam's children, and father of the holy seed. -innocence, that as a veil Had shadow'd them from knowing ill was done. Just confidence, and native righteousness. Milton, b. ».l. 1054. DIALOGUE XI. 271 and on the wings of desbe, into the place of the divine manifestation. A strange variety of disorderly passions" were evidently predominant in his breast. — Pride, for he refuses to acknowledge his guilt, though he cannot but own the fact. — Ingratitude, for he obliquely upbraids the Creator with his gift, as though it had been a snare rather than a blessing : " The woman whom thou gavest me." — Want of natural affection ; for he endeavours to cast all the blame upon the weaker vessel, and to acquit his obnoxious self, by impeaching the wife of his bosom The female crimi- nal acts the same unhumbled part ; neither takes shame to herself, nor gives glory to God, nor puts up a single petition for par- don. As all these disasters ensued upon the breach of e commandment, they fiunish us, I think, vith the best key to open the meaning of the prohibitory sanction. They prove, beyond any argument, that spiritual death, and all its consequences, were com- prehended in the extent of the threaten- ing. Ther. How could one act of disobe- dience produce such destructive effects ? erase the fair image of the Godhead, and stamp the monster, stamp the very devil in its stead ? — and so small an act of disobe- dience too ! Asp. The prohibition, if you please, was small, not so the transgression. It was committed against the clearest knowledge of duty, and the strongest obligations to obedience. It argued ingratitude for the richest favours, and unbelief of the most solemn declarations. It was an act of the most horrid presumption in the creature, and of the most impious rebellion against the Creator. As to the smallness, or rather the gentle and benign import of the command, this aggravates beyond measure the crime of disobedience. Alluding to the words once addressed to the Syrian general, we may justly expostulate, " O thou Adam, if thy Lord had bid thee do some great thing, (2 Kings V. 13,) in submission to his high au- thority, and out of gratitude for his un- speakable goodness, oughtest thou not to have done it ? How much more, when he says to thee — Freely eat of all except this * Milton, speaking of the unhappy pair, and des- cribing the consequences of their fall, says, — ; Nor only tears Rain'd at their eyes ; but high winds within Began to rise; high passions, anger, hate. Mistrust, suspicion, discord, and shook sore Their inward state of mind ; calm region once, And full of peace; now tossed and turbulent! For, understanding rul'd not, and the will Heard not her lore ! but in subjection now To sensual appetite, who from beneath Usurping over sovereign reason claim''! Superior sway — Book 9, 1. 1121. single tree. Thousantk, thousands of lio- nours, privileges, and gifts be thine, only one acknowledgment of thy subjection mine; and that the easiest which thy heart can wisn, or even thy fancy conceive." You ask, how could one act of disobe- dience produce such destructive effects ? — T answer, the reality of the fact, in number- less instances of material nature, is plain to a demonstration, while the manner of operation remains an impenetrable secret. Every child perceives the former, Newton himself is at a loss for the latter. For which reason, I have always thought it bet- ter to believe what God has taught, than attempt to explain what God has concealed. Let us forego this curious, perhaps fruitless inquiiy, and substitute a remark, which na- turally arises from the subject, and may con- siderably edify our minds. TJier. Edify ! Is it possible to render this dishonourable and afflictive notion edifying ? Can ajiy generous fniit spring from such a penurious soil ? Asp. Sampson, I believe, had no expec- tation of finding any thing valuable in the relics of his slain lion ; but, to his agreeable disappointment, " there was honey in the carcase. " ( Judg. xiv. 8. ) If our doctrine ap- pear ghastly as the one, it may yield a be- nefit sweet as the other. From hence we may learn, (what, when rightly learned, is more serviceable than all the sciences) the extreme malignity of sin. When volcanos open their tremendous jaws, and disgorge a fiery inundation, they confine their fury to a single territory. When fa- mine lifts her mildewed hand, and destroys the supports of animal life, she is content with ruining a kingdom or a nation. When war drenches his sword in blood, or the pestilence impregnates the air \vith poison, they also, even they observe some limits, and never make the whole compass of na- ture the scene of their ravages. But sin levelled its blow at the whole human race. Sin poiu-ed contagion, and spread destnic- tion through all countries and all ages. One single act of sin brought confusion and a curse upon the material, and miseries, in- finite millions of miseries on the rational world. How then shoidd we fear this most pernicious of all evils ! with what careful- ness guard against its insidious allurements ! ■vvith what resolution fly from its killing caresses ! Ther. I must observe, that you take for granted what remains to be proved. For, supposing your account true with regard to Adam, yet how does this afltct his ciid- dren ? Why must all his posterity be con- taminated because their forefather has play- ed the prodigal ? Such a he^-.y cnart^e against the whole body of mankind will not be admitted "i^hout vr- / cogent proofs. 272 THERON AND ASPASIO. Asp. The proofs are cogent ; perhaps ir- refragable.— Reason offers to turn evadence in the case. Reason, in concurrence with revelation, demands, " WTio can bring a clean thing ont of an unclean?" (Job. xiv. 4. ) If the fountain be polluted, how can the streams be pure ? and if the root is corrupt, it is impossible to conceive how the branches should be sound, or the fruit good.* The scriptural testimonies are almost innumerable. They pour their evidence from every quarter, and constitute not two or three only, but a whole cloud of witnesses. *• God made man upright," says the royal preacher ; the human nature, in its primi- tive state, was without any wrong bias ; but at and ever since the first transgres- sion, they have found out and followed many perverse inventions, (Eccl. vii- '■29.) Ther. I do not deny but multitudes of people, seduced by bad example, or betrayed by their own inadvertency, have departed from the rule of duty ; have, as the wise man affirms, tried many foolish experiments to acquire happiness, and devised as many idle excuses for their folly. But this is no such irrefragable proof that they were ori- ginally bad : It only implies, that, not tak- ing proper head to their ways, they warped from their native uprightness. As yonder tidips, though perfectly beautiful at present, if not attended with the necessary cultiva- tion, will degenerate into homely flowers, and at length be no better than tawdry weeds. Asp. No, my friend. Iniquity is not an adventitious thing, caught from example, or contracted by carelessness. These may in- crease, but these do not occasion the moral malady. A sinful disposition is as early as our being, the very moidd in which all our faculties are cast. David bears very express testimony to this humbling truth : "Behold!" (He sets his N. B. upon the passage. It is a sad but certain fact; such as should never depart from my memory, nor ever be omitted in my confessions -. and is much to be regarded by every reader : ) " I was shapen in wickedness, and in sin did my mother conceive me," (Psal- li. 5.) As though he had said, " Alas, Lord, this crime, though extremely honid, is but a little part of my guilt- I have not only sin- ned in practice, but I am totally and univer- sally corrupt in my very nature." • Milton has anticipated Theron's objection; and In Adam's soliloquy, very judiciously solved it. Ah ! why should all mankind. For one man's fault thus guiltless be condemn'd, If guiltless but from me what can proceed But all corrupt, both body and mmd deprav'd : Not to do only, but to will the same With me ? How can they acquitted stand In sight of God ^.—Book 10. 1. 821. This he acknowledges, not to extenuate his offence, but to lay open his excessive vileness. And indeed it is not possible to form a right judgment of ourselves, or to be didy humbled before God, unless we add the depravation of our nature to the trans- gressions of our life. Just as it is impos- sible to discern what monstrous and vora- cious animals lie hid in the ocean, if we only glance an eye upon the surface of the waters. Ther. Tliis, you know, was written by the royal penitent under the pangs of severe re- morse. Does not a sense of his enormous iniquity, together with the apprehension of divine wrath, make liis hand shake, and lead him to aggravate featuies ? Or, suppose it were true of the adulterous king, is it equally applicable to others, who have es- caped such gross pollutions. Asp. It is no exaggerating draught, but a faithful delineation, and exactly represents evei')' child of Adam. It was written with the utmost deliberation ; and therefore is introduced with that call for peculiar atten- tion, " Behold !" And though David was scandalously criminal in his intrigue with the wife of Uiiah, yet, the general tenor of his life was not only irreproachable, but exemplary. Who so zealous for the house of his God, or so devoted an admirer of the divine word ? His heart was an altar, ever flaming with heaveidy love ; and his tongue a trumpet, to sound the praises of Jehovah through all generations. And if he had reason to make his abasing confession, who is the person that can think himself ag- grieved by sharing in the imputation? One of our most eminent martyrs,* when he heard of any malefactor condemned to suffer an ignominious death, used to lay his hand upon his breast and say, "the seeds of all those villanies \\hich brought that un- happy wretch to the gibbet were sown here. And, if they have not spnmg up into the same detestable deeds, unto divine grace, unto divine grace alone be all the glory !" Ther. Your martyrs had honest hearts, but not always the clearest heads- I admire their zeal, and reverence their memories ; but I can no more receive their ojjinlon as an oracle, than I can be persuaded to wor- ship their relics. Asp. I have no intention to palm Popery on my friend, nor any desire to calumniate the human species- If it be disingenuous and sinful to asperse a particular character, how much more unjustifiable to traduce our nature in general. My account, dark and disgustful as it is, stands confirmed by a higher authority than any private opinion. It is confirmed from » Mr- Bradford. DIALOGUE XL 273 an universal survey of mankind, taken by the eye of the Creator hi;nself, and left upon record in the books of revelation. " I'he Lord looked down from heaven, upon the children of men, to see if there were any that did understand, and seek after God." What is the result of this grand inquiry ? It must, without all peradventure, be infal- libly true ; because God's inspection is too keen to be eluded, and his judgment too impartial to be biassed. This is the report, made by the infinitely wise Observer — " They are all gone aside, they are all together be- come filthy* there is none that doeth good, no not one." (Psal. xiv. 2, 3.) Tlier. This, I apprehend, is the charac- ter of those besotted creatures, those most egregious of all fools, who say, " There is no God." To them the psalm relates, and to them the abandoned character is appro- priated. They have it, if I may so speak, cum privilegio. Asp. It is meant, rather of practical than of speculative Atheists, who say, not expli- citly with their mouths, but implicitly in their hearts, " There is no God," who live as if there was no all-seeing Eye to take cog- nizance of their present conduct, no Su- preme Judge to call them to a future reckon- ing. And I dare appeal to yourself, though perhaps the fondest of fathers, whether this instance of " foolishness is not bound up in the hearts of our children ?"| nay, whether it be not natural to us all, both in youth and manhood, to forget our Creator ? In this case, Theron, there is no mono- poly. "Your right and mine are too strongly established by experience, and too clearly expressed in the preceding scripture, to ad- mit of any controversy. If there were any that understood — they are all gone out of the way — There is none that doeth good — no not one. Could any conveyancer in Europe have contrived a form of words more fully to ascertain our unhappy title ? Ther. There may be some texts in scrip- ture which seem to countenance your asser- tion, but these refer to the worst of men, in the worst of times. And can you, with any justice, ascribe the properties of a few reprobates to the whole species ? * The two original words are metaphorical expres- sions taken from wines that are become sour, and meats that are in a state of putrefaction. I believe it is impossible to find images more strongly expressive of a total depravity, and of the utmost degeneracy. I Prov. xxii. 15. Let none think, that by foolish- ness the sacred writer means only those silly tricks, which discover a weakness of understanding in chil- dren Solomon's fool is not the idiot, but the sinner ; anrf- ihe folly sti«natized throughout the Proverbs, denotes, not a failure in the intellectual, but in the reli^^iousand moral character. The words in this passage are peculiarly forcible. " Foolishness is in the heart," implanted in the very nature;— sunk deep into the iiimost faculties : and not only sunk deep, but adheres almost inseparably— is wrapt, tied, and bound, twines like the ivy, and is rooted like the oak. Asp. This very passage, and others of a like import, are adopted by St. Paul, and ap- plied both to Jews and Gentiles, with this professed design, " that eveiy mouth may be stopped, and all the world may be found guilty before God." Kom. iii. 19. Which evinces, I should think, beyond all doubt, the universality of its extent. If, to the universality, we add the antiqui- ty of this fact, it will bear the two grand characteristics of truth. Far from bei^g a novel opinion, it was received as a maxim, in the early age of Job : "What is man, that he should pretend to be clean ? and he that is born of a woman, that he should presume to be righteous ? Righteous before the infinitely just and holy One! "Behold! he.putteth no trust in his saints," though the most ex- alted of all intelligent beings. " Yea, the heavens," those brightest parts of the material creation, "are not clean in his sight. How much more abominable and filthy is man ?"* who drinketh iniquity. Job XV. 11 — 16. though loathsome to God, and worse than poison to his own soul ; yet drinketh it like water, without any hesita- tion or the least fear, with an eager and profuse delight. This, you will observe, was alleged in a dispute, carried on with no small vehemency, yet is admitted on all hands as unexception- ably true. Be pleased also to take notice, that the charge is not confined to some very notorious sinners, but is laid against the whole body of mankind. Whatever figure they make, each in his own conceit; they are all described in the words of God, as beings insatiably athirst after evil, from ob- jects that we cannot endure to behold, or cannot behold \vithout abhorrence.f Such is man by nature ! People must have eyes veiy different from mine, to discern any dignity in this draught. Ther. As to innate dignity, we will let it pass. But this I must insist upon — and several writers of the first repute are on my side — That we enter the stage of life in a state of indifference either to good or evil ; That the affections are like a balance nicely poised, and preponderating neither one way nor the other : The whole soul, like a sheet of fair paper, is equally susceptibleof straight or crooked lines, and will as readily receive the amiable features of an angel, as the hi- deous deformity of a devil. Asp. With regard to your first illustra- * The immaculate purity of the blessed God, and the utter depravity of fallen man, are points of so great importance in the scriptural system of divinity, that they are inculcated no less than three times within the compass of this single book, and by much the same noble contrast of striking images; chap. iv. 17. 18 ; XV. 14—16; xxv. 4— ti. t The original words have two significations ; one is used to signify that abominable practice, which the Egyptians could not bear to see, Exod. vii. 22. Heb. Bib. ver. 26. Eng. Bib. The other denotes an object too squalid to be viewed without loatliing. T 274 THERON AND ASPASIO. tion, the simile I think, confutes the sentiment. For to be in suspense whether we shall love the Lord our God, the giver of all good and the source of all perfection, this surely must be condemn- ed as an irreligious temper — This is a criminal halting between God and Baal ; a neutrality, which is no better than hosti- lity. I fear the writers you mention pay but little deference to the inspired volume. Our escutcheon is very differently blazoned in that office of spiritual heraldry. " A ti-ansgressor from the womb,"* is one of our hereditary titles. Transgressors we are by strong internal propensity, even before we transgress in outward act. Observe the young hawthorn plants, which have unfolded their green leaves, in yonder nursery, but have scarce learned to spread the gay blossom- Is there in those an equal aptitude to produce the luscious juicy grape, or their own coarse and husky berry ? By no means. They will (unless grafted with some generous cyon) certain- ly, universally, constantly bear the same harsh fruit with their parent tree : So cer- tainly will the human mind, if not renewed by the spirit of Christ, branch out into un- godly tempers, and bring forth wicked prac- tices. Ther. The nobleman mentioned by Xe- nophon,-f- when overcome by an alluring temptation, devised, for his excuse, the no- tion of two souls,^ one that inclined him to vice, another that prompted him to virtue. This was a moderate caricature,| compared with my friend's. He will allow nothing regular or graceful in the human heart. You have metamorphosed the master -piece of the creation into such a deformed object, as may justly render him a terror to him- self. Can there be a grosser libel upon the Creator, or a greater discouragement to our fellow-creatures ? Asp. If this be a distorted piece, what will you call the following description ? " God saw that the wickedness of man was great upon the earth ; and that every ima- gination of the thoughts of his heart was on- ly evil continually.'' Gen. vi. .5. This, per- haps, may be reckoned a more monstrous drawing still : Yet it came from that hand which painted the canopy of the skies, and touched all the pictures of natui'e into such inimitable perfection. Pray let us examine the most distinguish- * Isa. xlviii. 8. A truth so apparent and undenia- ble, that Seneca could not but discern it, though he was an unenlightened heathen; could not but ac- knowledge it, though he was one of the jiroud Stoic sect. " Hac conditions nati sumus, animalia obnoxia non paucioribus animi quam corporis morbis." De Ira, lib. 2. c. 0. t Cyropsed. lib. 6. % A term used by the Italian painters, to signify a lesemblance horrid or ridiculous I ' ing features in this draught. Not barely the works of his hand, or the words of his tongue, but the " imaginations of his heart," are evil. The contagion has spread itself through the inner man. It has tainted the seat of his principles, and the source of his actions.* Is there not, you will say, some mixture of good ? No, they are only evil : There is no hopeful tendency : Not so much as a little leaven of piety, that may have a chance to diffuse itself, and meliorate the whole lump. But are there no lucid inter- vals ? No happy moments, when virtue gains the ascendency ? None ; he is only evil continually. The usin-pation of sin is total, and its tyranny perpetual. What I have advanced, therefore, is no libel upon the Creator's benignity; because it is the very echo of his own determination. Neither is it so properly discouraging, as humbling and alarming to our fellow-crea- tures : Humbling, to make us sensible of our ruin ; alarming, to make us desirous of a recovery. Ther. Is not the description which you have produced peculiar to the men of that wicked generation, whose gu.lt was as un- paralleled as their punishment ? Asp. It is applicable both to them and their successors. The wisdom of God re- peats the charge, and fixes it upon the race which survived the flood. f The depravity of human nature continued, nor could the waters of an universal deluge purge it away. So deep, alas ! is the stain, and so incorri- gible the virulency of original corruption, that it will yield to nothing ; to nothing will it yield, but to the " washing of regenera- tion, and renewing of the Holy Ghost." Tit. iii. 5. Till this takes place, every heart of man must wear the prophet's stigmatizing motto, " Deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked." Ther. This passage, I am informed, is not rightly translated, especially in the last expression. The Hebrew original does not bear so hard upon the human character as the English version. Asp. You allow then that the heart is deceitful. And of this we have a glaring * The original is very nice in its structure, and no less emphatical in its meaning. The heart, or grand principle — the thoughts of the heart, or the various actings of that principle — the imagination of the thoughts, or the produce and result of those actings ; namely, desires and affections, counsels and purposes. Not one, a few only, or the greatest part, but all these are evil. 1 Gen. viii. 21. Where, I think, the particle is used in the adversative, not the casual signification ; and should be rendered though, rather than for — Where it seems likewise, that the forbearance of the righte- ous God is ascribed to the great atonement; typified by Noah's burnt-offerings, and expressed by St. Paul in his epistle to the Ephesians; who probably alludes to this passage, " The Lord smelled a sweet savour, and the Lord said in his heart, I will not again curse the earth any more for man's sake, though the ima- gination of man's heart be evil from his youth, Eph. DIALOGUE XI. 275 proof ill the conduct of TTazael. He thought it impossible that he should ever perpetrate such horrid barbarities as the prophet fore- saw. " Is thy servant a dog, that he should do this great thing?" 2 Kings viii. 13. Yes, Hazael ; however thou mayest imagine thy- self gentle as a lamb, thou art fierce as a dog, and savage as a tiger : Which was most terribly demonstrated by the event. Suppose we translate the other word somewhat more accurately, the little altera- tion will be of less service to your cause. Instead of " desperately wicked," you may, if you please, read, "deplorably disordered," Jer. xvii. 3. This is the exact import of the phrase. It is a metaphor derived from a very distempered body, in which the whole head is sick, and the whole heart faint : " From the crown of whose head to the sole of whose feet," there is nothing but consuming disease and enfeebling languors.* The rules of civility may set a specious var- nish on the conversation, but until grace, sanctifying grace, administers the remedy, the most civilized heart will be like the pale emaciated 'cheek, that is poorly enlivened with paint. Ther. What say the writers of the New Testament ? Is not their way of thinking more liberal and benign ? If human nature wore so hideous an aspect under the legal dispensation, since the coming of our Lord, and the publishing of his gospel, one may expect an improved and more pleasing face of things. Asp. Human nature, in every period of time, and under every dispensation of reli- gion, is still the same- It was the Spirit of Christ who indited the Old Testament ; and he cannot vary from himself in the de- clarations of the New. I am very much inclined to believe that all the bodily diseases which our divine Physician healed, during his abode on earth, were so many emblematical representations of spiritual disorders, which, like certain family distempers, may be said to run in the blood of all mankind. Will you give me leave, Theron, to explain myself? I do not like to engross the discourse. Yet I would willingly enlarge upon this subject. Ther. By all means. The laws of argu- ment, separate from the indulgences of friendship, give you a warrant to urge what- ever may support your cause. Besides, I will be glad to hear your sentiments upon a point so curious. Asp. The poor leper, covered with noisome sores, is the very picture of a pol- luted sinner. Was the one, for his conta- gious impurities, separated from the society * Isa. i. 6. Agreeable to this doctrine, and conson- ant to this metaphor, is the confession of our Liturgy, " There is no health in us." of his fellow-citizens ? So shall the other, foi' his abominable uncleanness, be banished from the beatific presence, unless he be cleansed by the blood, and justified by the righteousness of Jesus. You pity the condition of that unhappy creature who was born blind. His eyes rolled, but rolled in vain, to find the dawn- ing ray. Such is the benighted state of the human mind, till Almighty goodness com- mand the scales of ignorance to fall ofi", and pour heavenly day through all the intellec- tual faculties. Then, and not till then, we begin to know the holiness, the justice, the adorable excellencies of God. We see the sublime purity of his law, and the extreme depravity of our own hearts. We are brought acquainted with the transcendent glories of our Redeemer's person, and ap- prehend that most comfortable mystery of his substitution in our stead. We discern the ineffable perfection of his merits, and the divinely rich freeness of his grace." Truths incomparably more delightful to the soul, than all the delectable scenes of crea- tion are to the sight. The paralytic's enervated limbs too truly represent the impotence of our nature. Was he unable to grind at a mill, to run in a race, or to turn himself on his bed? So unable are we to " fight the good fight of faith," to exercise the graces of Christian- ity, or even to turn ourselves unto God. Do not you, my friend, experience some- thing of this inability ? For my part, I must lay my hand on my breast, and daily, hour- ly confess, " The palsy is here. Though not altogether dead in sin, (blessed be Christ Jesus, and his quickening Spirit !) yet how languid is my zeal, how enfeebled my industry, in the great affair of everlast- ing salvation ! — I would fain believe, and with a full assurance of faith, the promises of the unchangeable Jehovah. But how often do I stagger through unbelief! — I would fain love, and with the warmest grati- tude, my ever-merciful and most beneficent God. But, oh ! what coldness benumbs my afi'ections ! I wish to be humble in every thought, heavenly in all my desires, and wholly resigned to the divine wiJl. But, alas ! my sufficiency for these things is like the flaccid sinew, or the withered arm." It would be endless to particularize all the maladies, which were emblems of our misery, and the triumphs of oiu: Lord's power. Let me only remark, that their bodies were afflicted with a single disorder, our souls labour under a complication of » This, and the preceding particulars, are lessons of the last importance in the Christian school. The knowledge of them deserves to be most solicitously sought, both by attentive contemplation, and by ear- nest prayer. For to know them is to be truly wise; to be influenced by them, is to be substantially hap- 276 THERON AND ASPASIO. evils. They felt their affliction, and were desirous, importunately desirous of relief. We are, till awakened from above, insensi- ble of our calamitous case. We add, to all our other indispositions, a stupifying le- thargy, or an extravagant delirium. Ther. Such allegorical expositions of Scripture are pretty enough ; but, I pre- sume, you yourself cannot reckon them de- monstrative. For my own part, I must ap- peal from the surmises of fancy to the ver- dict of reason. Asp. I cannot think that the allegorical sense, when soberly introduced, is unworthy of our regard, or without its weight. How- ever, I have no design to preclude your ap- peal. Will the avowed, will the reiterated decision of an apostle, satisfy my friend, and be admitted as the verdict of reason ? St. Paul has declared of himself, " Li me, that is, in my flesh," or unrenewed nature, ■* dwelleth no good," (Rom. vii. 18,) no good temper, not so much as any good de- sire. Elsewhere he affirms, that the " carnal mind," or unregenerate soul, " is not sub- ject to the law of God," nay, is an enemy, or rather enmity itself. (Rom. viii. 7.) Against what ? — Against sin ? That were a noble an- tipathy.— Against the world ? That were a laudable disaffection. — No ! but against God and his law. Amazing perverseness ! to be enmity against God, who is boundless be- nignity and consummate goodness ; enmity against his law, which is the transcript of his amiable perfections, and the faultless model of all virtue. Ther. This, I suppose, is the character of Saul the Pharisee, not of Paul the apostle ; descriptive of his condition when he was " a blasphemer, a persecutor, and injurious." Asp. It relates not to himself alone, but is applicable to all who continue in a state of nature. The blessed author of our be- ing, speaking of mankind in general, says, that " he is even flesh," mere flesh, altoge- ther flesh ;• his very soul and all its powers are wholly enslaved to fleshly appetites. The beneficent Restorer of our happiness pronounces the same sentence in the very same words : " That which is bom of the flesh, is flesh." (John iii. 6-) The facul- ties which men receive by their natural birth have a carnal bias, incline to nothing but sordid pleasures and ignoble pursuits. Our Saviour reinculcates the admonition, and illustrates it by a very remarkable allu- sion. You cannot forget his answer to a procrastinating disciple, " Let the dead bury their dead," (Matt. viii. ^2,) intimating, that as many as are unsanctified by the Holy Ghost, though possessed of an animal, are destitute of the divine life ; are no more fit for the kingdom of heaven, for its converse or its joys, than a pale corpse in the coffin, or dry bones in the charnel-house, are qua. lified to transact any secular business. St. Paul sets the seal of heaven to this momentous truth, in various passages of his epistles. From a multitude let me select one, and recommend it to yoiu- serious con- sideration : " You that were sometime alie- nated, and enemies." The Colossians, and all mankind, were alienated from the living God ; had no true knowledge of him ; and, what is worse, had no sincere desire after him. Nay, they were not only strangers, but enemies ; in a state of hostility to his holy nature and heavenly will. What can express a greater degeneracy ? Nothing, un- less it be the following clause : " By a mind intent upon wicked works ;* a mind, not only averse to all good, but passionately prone to all evil. Ther. A few picked passages, of a figur- ative import, and artfully clogged by some dexterous interpretation, may seem to sup- port your cause. Asp. Ah ! Theron, there is no need to use slight of hand. He that runs may read this doctrine in the sacred authors. It is interwoven with the whole series of their historical, and makes a professed part of their practical writings. What is more common with the inspired penmen, than to express a profligate course of life by " following our own imaginations, and walking in our own ways ?" When immorality and licentiousness were pre- dominant in Israel, knew no restraints, and kept no bounds, how does the unerring historian describe this horrible state of things ? " Every one did that which was right in his own eyes."t Nothing can more strongly imply the extreme depravity of mankind than such a phraseology, which makes it one and the same thing to pursue our natural inclinations, and to act the aban- doned sinner. • Gen. vi. 3. The word flesh, by which the all- wise Creator characterises man, signifies, in the sa- cred writings, whatever is dishonourable in itself, provoking to God, or introductory to the ruin of man. The \^orks of the flesh are a compendium of all iniquity. Gal. v. 19—21. To walk after the flesh, is the very reverse of walking in the Spirit, diametrically opposite to the divine law and true ho- liness. Rom. viii. 4. To be carnally minded, or to have the influence, the savour, the relish of the flesh (^{»v«^a aa^xcs) predominant in our minds, is the spiritual death of the soul, and a presage of eternal death, both in body and soul. Rom. viii. 6. * Col. i. 21. T» J/avu/a iv Ton i^ycis vets ^cvtigm " mente, malis operibus intenta." An emi- nent critic would thus point, and thus translate the words ; and assigns, for his alteration, the following reason; "Mens enim dicituressein ea re quam semper cogitat, ad quam cupidine fertur et inclinatur." Oa- VENANT in lot: Let the words be pointed and trans- lated, either in this or the received manner, they speak the language, and confirm the sentiments of this whole Dialogue. . ,„ „ , t Judg. xviii. 6.— See also Psalm Ixxxi. 12. EccL xi 9. Acts xiv. 16. DIALOGUE XI. 277 St. JuJe cannot write a few lines but he must touch upon this subject, must teach this humbling lesson : " Sensual," he says, "not having the spirit," (Jude 19.) Ac- cording to his estimate, not to be actuated by the power of especial grace, is to remain under the dominion of sensuality. If we may credit this servant of Christ, every man, while unrenewed by the divine Spirit, is governed by flesh and sense. Can any man then pretend to be originally free from the influence of corruption ? St. Paul exempts not himself, no, nor any of the highest saints, from the oppro- brious charge : " We all walked according to the desires of the flesh, and of the mind." — Which desires in us, as well as in the idolatrous heathens, were base, sordid, and contaminating. Insomuch that we who are Jews by birth, who are sons of God by our new birth, even we were " by nature the children of wrath." (Eph- ii. 3.) And if liable to wrath, then doubt- less subject to depravity, and chargeable with sin. Thp.r. What says St- James ? You have suppressed, and I had almost forgot his tes- timony, though it is so very pertinent to my purpose, and so very explicit in my fa- vour : •' Men, who are made after the si- militude of God." The similitude of God signifies, in the sacred books, those moral endowments which distinguish the possessor both from the brute and the devil. And if men are made after this image, if they are created with these endowments, where is your doctrine of original sin ? Asp. I began to flatter myself that your objections were exhausted. But since I am mistaken in this particular, surely it must be as great a mistake to imagine that our apostle would maintain an opinion so repugnant to the afore -mentioned texts, and so contrary to universal observation. Do not you perceive the very reverse true with regard to your own children ? Why do you address them with such tender en- treaties, such warm exhortations, such re- peated arguments ? Why do you allure them to duty by promises, and deter them from transgression by threatenings ? Is all this regimen, all this discipline, necessary for creatures that bear the holy image of God? They " made after the similitude of God ?" Then they have no need of the re- newing influences of the Holy Ghost, in case they live ; and no need of the atone- mtnt of Christ's blood, in case they die. Would James, the Lord's brother, assert such an egregious error, as not only oppos- es a single article, but undermines the whole constitution of Christianity ? sets aside the saiictification of the divine Spirit, and the propitiation of the Redeemer's death ? Impossible for him to assert ! Impossible, 1 should think, for us to suppose ! St. James speaks of a fact that is past ; speaks of men collectively as they were all included in their first parent. The passage, I apprehend, should be translated, not men that " are," but men that " were"* created, &c. The scripture considers Adam as the common parent of us all ; nay more, considers us all as existing in our great progenitor ; which is so far from overthrow- ing, that it establishes the point in debate. For if we were all created after the simi- litude of God, in and with Adam ; it must follow, that we all fell from our conformity to God in and with Adam. And if so — let me for once retort my friend's interroga- tory,— Where is not original sin ? I am very sure it runs through our Li- turgy ; is an essential part of our Articles ; and most strongly delineated in our Homi- lies. Shall I produce some of those tes- timonies, which are as clear as they are co- pious 'i Ther. No more of your testimonies, good Aspasio. Inform me rather what ad- vantages can accrue from your inculcating, or my adopting, such a doctrine. Suppose it were undeniably true, disagreeable truths, like disagreeable objects, should be con- signed over to obscurity, not obtruded upon our view. On such an occasion, the re- ply of Themistocles should be mine. One of the literati of Greece offiered to com- municate an elaborate and curious inven- tion, by means of which his memory should be so wonderfully strengthened, as to retain whatever he read or heard. " My friend," replied the hero, "" you quite mis- take the way to serve me. I want to learn the art not of remembering, but of forgetting." ylsp. If to forget our disease, were a likely method to restore our health, I should readily concur in your hero's way of think- ing. As this will hardly be allowed, I cannot but judge it more advisable to re- member our disease, that we may inquire after a remedy. Ther. Where is this remedy to be had ? Asp. Not on earth, but from heaven. The schools of science cannot discover it. The courts of kings are unable to procure it. The college of physicians know not how to prescribe it. But the gospel of our sal- vation prescribes, prepares and dispenses it. The language of Christ in his holy word is, " I will bring her health and cure," • Jam. iii. 9. That this is the precise signification of the participle y»y«voTaf, may be gathered from 1 1 Tim. V. 9. where yiy*"*"* is translated havingbeen ; and must necejsaiily refer, not to the present, but to L the past ronditiou of the widt-w. 278 THERON AND ASPASIO. (Jer. xxxiii. 6.) And the beginning of our cure is, to be sensible of our disorder. Hence we are taught to be humble. To review the catalogue of our actual trans- gressions, is a mortifying employ. But that which lays the soul in the lowest abase- ment, is the conviction of inbred iniquity. This strikes at the root of human vanity, and cuts asunder the very sinews of self- conceit. Blindness in the understanding, impotency in the will, disorder in the affec- tions,— these are not visitants, but inhabi- tants ; * congenial with our frame, and in- grained in our constitution. How then, 0 ! how can we be vain of our moral beauty, who have an hereditary defilement cleaving to all our faculties? Surely this must ban- ish the Pharisee from our breast, and inspire us with the sentiments of that sincere pen- itent, " Behold, I am vile ! (Job. xl. 4-.) ; must teach us the language of the abashed leper, " Unclean ! unclean !" (Lev- xiii. 45.) Ther. I should think it would make us melancholy rather than humble ; serve no other purpose than to introduce an afflictive sense of extreme wretchedness. Asp. Did we intend to rest here, your apprehensions would be just ; but we urge the doctrine of original corruption as a pre- parative for the Redemption of Christ. It is observable, that very few applied to the blessed Jesus in the days of his flesh but the sons and daughters of afHiction. The levee of that Prince of Peace was crowded by the lame, the blind, the diseas- ed. These being sensible of distress, and longing for relief, fell as humble supplicants at his feet, while others, who were firm in their health, and gay in their spirits, reject- ed him with contemptuous scorn. When we perceive " the plague of our heart," and feel those vvor^e than ulcerous sores which overspread our nature, we also shall ardent- ly seek to " the Lord our healer." AVhen we find ourselves subject to the curse of the law, in bondage to the tyranny of Satan, and liable to everlasting damnation, then the divine Physician, and the divine Re- deemer will be precious indeed : whereas, if we remain insensible of our misery, the gospel, which is saving health to the contrite soul, will be an unaffecting story to our ears : We may hear it, we may read it, as an amusing narrative ; but shall not re- ceive it as a sovereign remedy. Ther. Not receive the gospel, Aspasio ! 1 hardly understand what you mean. I of- ten study the gospel ; I believe it to be a divine revelation, and endeavour to follow its directions. I look upon it as containing the most refined system of morality ; ns en- forcing every virtue, by the strongest mo. * Called therefore n oncara iv s^o/ xica^Tia, << sin that dwelleth in me," Rom. vii. 17 tives, and recommending all by the most perfect example. Asp. To which you should add — as re- vealing that great Mediator, v/ho has fulfill- ed all righteousness, to effect our justifica- tion ; who has also the fulness of the Spi- rit, to accomplish our regeneration. Oth- erwise, what you mention is infinitely short of the gospel. It brings no glad tidings to fallen creatures. It administers no succour to ruined sinners. It is like writing a copy for the blind, or setting a task to the disa- bled ; which would rather be an insult on their impotence, than arelief of their distress. The first particular I wave at present- Only let me ask your opinion of the last ; which is a grand doctrine, and a very dis- tinguishing privilege of the gospel : I mean the doctrine and the privilege of spi- ritual regeneration ; exclusive of which, all your endeavours to possess virtue, and practise morality, will be no better than endeavours to fly without wings, or to run without feet. While unimpressed with a sense of our original depravity, we shall probably sit down contented with some superficial re- formation, and not aspire after a renewal of the heart. Civility will pass for sanctity, and a temperate disposition for a gracious habit. Why is the new birth, why are all the saving operations of the blessed Spirit, disregarded by some, derided by others ? Because these persons are insensible of their utter inability to all good and of their abject slavery to all evil. Therefore they see no reason for this divine agency, or for that universal change. You also, my dear friend, while unac- quainted with your natural corruption, can- not apprehend either the reasonableness or the necessity of being "renewed in the spirit of your mind," (Eph. iv. 23 ) But when experience has taught you the form- er, you will want no arguments to convince you of the latter. Can creatures who are blind in their understandings, discern the things which belong to their eternal peace ? Can creatures who are dead in sin, exercise the graces or discharge the duties of a Christian life ? Can creatures whose hearts are enmity against God, either delight to do his will here, or be meet for his beatific pre- sence hereafter ? Under the influence of such convictions, that new Mith which the gospel of Christ promises, which the Spirit of God produces, will appear as necessary for your state, and be as welcome to your soul, as these gentle dews are necessary for the languishing herbs, and welcome to the thirsty soil. Tlier. The dews, though refreshing to the flowers, may be too chilly for our con- stitutions. And see ! the st;u: of evening. DIALOGUE XII. 279 by proclaiming the approach of night, has given us a warning to quit our arbour. Some other time we must resume this inquiry ; for I am by no means satisfied that your theory agrees with experience. Asp. I fear I have already kept you out too long. Let me just observe as we go in, that the doctrine, however disagreeable in itself, is conducted to an advantageous issue. It is productive of a much more substantial consolation, than history assigns to the great but exiled Marius. When he fled with his ruined circumstances, to linger out the poor remains of life among the ruins of Carthage, what was his chief support ? " Contemplat- ing," says the historian, " that famous city in the dust, he was the less afflicted with his own downfall." We have not been put off with such cold comforts, such negative benefits. The be- lief of original sin has a tendency to make us humble, to show us our need of Christ, to create in us a hunger and thirst after the renewing influences of his Spirit, and the justifying merit of his righteousness. So that it must be owing to our own perverse ness, or our own negligence, if we do not levy a tax upon our loss, and rise even by our fall. DIALOGUE Xn. The sun was fiercely bright, and the sky without a cloud. Not a breath fanned the woods, nor a gale curled the stream. The fields, exposed to all the fiery beams, were like a glowing hearth. The little birds, overcome by the potent influence, lost, for a while, their tuneful notes. Nothing was heard in the garden but the drowsy hum of bees, and the moan-like buz of winged in- sects. All nature seemed to languish : The flourishing meads looked sickly : the gayest blossoms began to fade ; the sprightliest ani- mals, if not reposed under some cooling shelter, panted for breath, and hung their drooping heads, amidst the all-surrounding blaze and the unsufferable heat. Aspasio disappeared ever since dinner, and none could tell whither he was gone. Theron, as soon as the tea equipage was removed, took his way to the wood. Desirous of the thickest shade, he hastened to the centre. A ser- pentine walk composed the avenue ; which, after several windings, delivered him into a large circular area, not covered with a Gre- cian or Roman temple, unmeaning imita- tion of pagan idolatry, but surrounded with aged and princely oaks; the coalition of whose branches threw over the grassy plat a iwjestic, rural dome, and their tuipierced foliage " imbrowned the noontide hours." In the midst, and elevated on a square base, was a statue representing the venerable Elijah on his bended knees, with hands stretched out, and eyes lifted up to heaven. His attitude, his air, his every feature, were a most lively comment on those strong ener- getic expressions of scripture, "take hold on God,'' (Isa. Lxiv. 7.) " Wrestle with the Almighty;" Pour out your hearts before him." (Psalm Ixii. 8.) On one side of the pedestal were engraven the priests of Baal, in fiantic emotions calling upon their sense- less deity, and gashing themselves with un • availing wounds. On the other was exhi- bited, in basso relievo, the adoring Tish- bite's altar ; his victim burning with fire from the Lord, even while the water ran from every limb, and overflowed the trench below. A remote cascade tumbled from a craggy rock. The stream, after having wasted its silver foam in a winding progress, straggled into this grand arbour. Here it just ap- peared gliding down a gentle slope, with a flaunting air, and a prattling noise. Im- pressed, as it were, with the unexpected so- lemnity of the scene, it seemed to check its wanton waves, and turned aside into a more sequestered path. As some heed- less trifler, who bolts unawares into the roy- al presence, stands struck with reverence and awe, or retires with precipitance and confusion. The deep gloom, shedding a kind of night even while the sun glared in the sky; not a whisper stirring among so many millions of leaves ; and all their warbling natives hushed in silence, — the sonorous toll of the distant cascade, and the tinkling chime of the nearer rill, — the profound adoration, and fervent devotion, which lived in the lineaments of the impassioned stone: all these circum- stances rendered the place prodigiously august and striking. Not much unlike the ancient oratories, where holy people retired from the giddy ring, and the bustling crowd, to ennoble their minds, with sublime contem- plation, where they bid a temporary adieu to the tumultuous world, its gay impertinence and solemn dulness, in order to maintain a more uninterrupted communion with that mighty Being, who " sitteth upon the circle of the earth, and the inhabitants thereof ai'e as grasshoppers before him.f * Col. iv. 12. Aj/wv/^Sittsvas S" tous 't^e^iu^ui;. ■f Isa. xl. 22. What a noble image is here, and what an exquisitely fine contrast ! God, the great God, sitteth on thoselofty and immense heavens, which at an inconceivable distance, surround this pensile globe. From that most sublime and magnificent throne, he looks down upon the inhabitants of the earth, who, in all their pomp and splendour, amidst all their admired worlis and boasted acquisitions, are m.ean and impotent in his sight,— mean and impotent as the poor insects which wander over the parched heath for sustenance,— which spend all the day in idle insignificant chirpings; and at night take up their contemptible habitatioH on a Wade of grass. 280 THERON AND ASPASIO. Welcome to Theron was the shady bower j welcome the cool aspect and the musical flow of the water ; but more welcome than all was the sight of his friend, who lay re- clined at the foot of an oak, with a book half open in his hand, and his eye fixed up- on the statue. Ther. I know not, Aspasio, whether I must make an apology for breaking in upon your retirement ; or call you to an account, for depriving the ladies of your company at the tea-table. Asp. Indeed, Theron, I have been so much delighted with the place, with the com- panion in my hand, and the noble ob- ject before me, that I scarce observed how the time stole away. And I flatter myself, if you will take a seat by my side, and share my entertainment, you will be more inclined to excuse than to aggravate my fault. Ther. Is Tully then (for I observe his name on the volume) your companion ? And can such a devoted admirer of the Bi- ble be so highly charmed with a Heathen classic ? St. Augustine somewhere declares, that though passionately fond, before hiscon- version, of Tully's writings, yet after that memorable change he could no longer relish those admired compositions ; because they were not sweetened, as he expresses himself, with the melifluous name of Jesus. Asp. I am far from pretending to such an exalted pitch of devotion as that seraphic father attained. I can spend a vacant minute on the delicate odes of Horace, and taste a refined entertainment in Virgil's beautiful poem. But when I hear a sermon, or peruse a religious treatise, which borrows neither dignity nor charms from that amiable and glorious name, 1 own myself extremely dis- appointed. Without the offices, the merits or the grace of Christ, the sermon and the treatise appear as defective, as a body that is neither adorned with the head nor enlivened with the heart. Ther. I suppose then you cultivate an ac- quaintance with the Grecian and Roman authors, in order to improve your taste, and polish your style. Asp. These, and, I am apt to think, more considerable advantages than these, may be derived from an occasional application to their works. They may serve as so many shades, to set off with heightened lustre the beauty and glory of the sacred oracles. While I peruse Plato's ornamented page, or listen to Cicero's flowing periods, I am somewhat like the person who amuses him- self in a gallery of painted flowers- He is pleased with the curious creation of the pen- cil ; but finds none of that delicious fragrance, none of those breathing sweets, which meet him ill the garden, and regale his sense, from the liloomiiig parterre. So here are br liantseiitiments and a florid diction; delicate touches of wit, and bold strokes of descrip- tion : But no discovery of Christ Jesus, no displays of his ineffable love, no overtures of reconciliation with the blessed God ; no- thing to yield us solid comfort in our pre- sent state, or any joyful expectations with regard to the approaching eternity. Besides, when I converse with those cele- brated geniuses of antiquity, who were at once the most erroneous and the most judi- cious— the most judicious in their taste of polite literature the most erroneous in their apprehensions of invisible things — they show me, what they never intended, the inexpres- sible need of revelation. They teach me to set a higher value on that inestimable gift. I bless the distinguishing goodness of provi- dence, which has cast my lot,* not at Athens, but in Emmanuel's land. I say, with won- der and gratitude, " Why did not my exist- ence commence in those eras of religious dotage ? Why was not my portion confined to those regions of barbarism and delusion ? Why am not I burning incense to idols, pay- ing senseless adoration to sculptured stone, or worshipping, with detestable ceremonies, a set of lascivious, debauched, and scanda- lousf deities ?" — Surely, Theron, from every perusal of those volumes, attended with such a reflection, we shall see the utmost reason to magnify " the tender mercies of our God ; whereby the day-spring from on high hath visited us ;" (Luke i. 78.) and brought us out of darkness into the marvellous light of the gospel. Permit me to mention another benefit which may result from a correspondence with those masterly writers. The streams may lead us to the inexhaustible fountain ; lead us to ad- mire the only wise God our Saviour, who has given such a shining vein of ingen uity to his rational creatures. As I read their works, and am charmed with their beauties, I would frequently reflect — " If the essays of a finite mind, and the compositions of a mortal pen, yield such high satisfaction, what rapturous, what unknown delight must arise from an uninterrupted communion with Infinite Wis- dom ! To stand, not at the feet of Homer, and attend the flights of his elevated imagi- nation J not in the presence of Socrates, and * Alluding to the story of the philosopher, who used to bless the gods for three privileges; — That he was made not a brute, but a rational creature— That he was born not in barbarous climes, but in Greece — That he lived not in the more uncultivated ages, but in the time, and under the tuition of Socrates. t This, I think, gives us the most deplorable and horrid idea of the blindness of our fallen nature. The Heathens, even amidst all thspoliteness of their taste, and notwithstanding their superior advance- ment in the sciences, wflere haters of the true God, and robbed him of his honour ; nay, what is uii. spef.knbly worse, they paid it to monsters— monsters of lewdness and treachery, vice and immorahty. Egregious, sottish, almost incredible stupidity ! to worship those beings, w\\ic\i deserved universal ab- horrence ! to defy those characters, which could ne- ver be sutiiciently detested. DIALOGUE XIL 281 hear the dictates of his sagacious soul ; but to stand in the courts of the Lord, and before the throne of the Lamb, there to contemplate, without any interposing veil, the counsels of his unerring providence ; to have the mysteries of his redeeming love laid fully open to our \\evf ; and receive the brightest manifestations of all his amiable, his adorable, his unspeakable attributes ?" T7ier. These are advantages truly desira- ble, and equally obvious. Methinks, it sur- prises me that I should never so much as propose them, and grieves me, that I should so long be deprived of them. A view to such very superior improvements will, I hope, render my future intercourse with those favourite authors still more agreeable, and abundantly more beneficial. — But let me ask, what passage was engaging your at- tention this afternoon ? Asp. The great orator's treatise concern- ing the " Nature of the divine Beiiig ;"* that part especially which proves his exist- ence and perfections from the formation of the human body. Ther. And do you not perceive, that he is almost as deficient in the knowledge of his subject, as he is mistaken in his ideas of the Supreme Cause .'' The exquisite con- trivance and inimitable workmanship of the human frame were, in those early ages, but dimly discerned. It was the infancy of an- atomy, when the very professors had scarcely the qualifications of a modern pupil. Many of the received notions were childish, almost all of them superficial. Asp, Will my Theron then entertain me with a more accurate description of this wonderful structure? Ther- How could you take occasion, As- pasio, from the hint I dropped, to conceive any such expectation ? It is one thing to discover, another to correct, what is amiss. Many spectators can point out an accidental defect in some celebrated statue, or a small indelicacy in some valuable piece of paint- ing, who are absolutely incapable of retouch- ing the one or supplying the other. Asp. Since we are fallen upon this point, you must give me leave to renew and urge my request. I shall be extremely glad to hear your remaiks upon the subject, especi- ally as you have made this branch of science a part of your amusement, and not without the advantage of anatomical dissections ; whereas I have very seldom applied my thoughts to the former, and never had an opportunity of being present at the latter. Let me also observe, that our very situa- tion favours, or rather suggests, such a topic of conversation. All the fine prospects of the country are excluded. We have scarce any thing left but ourselves to contemplate. And shall this be the only theme we ne- glect ? Ther. It is somewhat preposterous, I must confess, to pry into the archives of colleges, to ransack the cabinets of the virtuosi, to carry our search through the whole compass of external nature, and at the same time overlook the far more sur- prising curiosities which abound in the com- position of our own bodies. — Since you in- sist upon it, my observations, crude and ex- temporaneous as they are, shall submit themselves to your judgment, provided you will be content to receive only a few of the outlines, and nothing like a finished draught. Asp. Let me just hint, that the more circumstantial your account is, so much the more welcome will it be to your friend, and so much the more honourable to our com- mon Creator. For I really think, that Ga- len's declaration upon this head is perfectly just ; which I have read in my favourite commentator Beza, and which speaks to the following effect :* — " Such treatises as dis- play the excellencies of the great Creator, compose one of the noblest and most ac- ceptable hymns. To acquaint ourselves with his sublime perfections, and point out to others his infinite power, his unerring wisdom, and his boundless benignity ; this is a more substantial act of devotion than to slay hecatombs of victims at his altar, or kindle moimtains of spices into incense."^ Theron, after pausing a few minutes, thus resumed the discourse. Ther. When some master builder imder takes to erect a magnificent edifice, he begins with the less decorated, but more solid parts — those which are to support, or those which are to contain the rest. This order, if you please, we will follow in considering " the earthly house of our tabernacle." 2 Cor. v. i. First, you have a system of bones, cast into a variety of moulds, enlarged or con- tracted into a variety of sizes. All strong, that they may commodiously bear up the fleshy machine ; yet light, that they may not depress the animal with an encumbering load. Bored with an internal cavity, to contain the moistening marrow, and perfo- rated with exceedingly fine ducts, to admit the nourishing vessels. Insensible them- selves, they are covered with a membranef of exquisite sensibility, which warns them of the approach, and secures them from the annoyance, of any injurious friction ; and at the same time preserves the muscular parts from being fretted in their action by the hard and rough substance of the bones. Their figures are always most precisely fitted to their uses. They are generally larger at the extremities than in the middle, that they * De Natura Deorum. • Vide Bez. Annot ad Rom. i. 2^ t The periosteum. 282 THERON AND ASPASIO. may be joined more firmly, and not so easily dislocated. The manner of their articula- tion is truly admirable, and remarkably va- rious ; yet never varied without demonstrat- ing some wise design, and answering some valuable end. Frequently, when two are united, the one is nicely rounded and caped with a smooth substance ; the other is scooped into a hollow of the same dimen- sions, to receive the polished knob ; and both are lubricated with an unctuous fluid, to yield the readiest rotation in the socket. The feet compose the firmest and neatest pedestal, infinitely beyond all that statuary or architecture can accomplish ; capable of altering its form, and extending its size, as different circumstances require. Besides performing the office of a pedestal, they contain a set of the nicest springs, which help to place the body in a variety of grace- ful attitudes, and qualify it for a multiplicity of advantageous motions. The imdermost part of the heel, and the extremity of the sole, are shod with a tough, insensible, si- newy substance. This we may call a kind of natural sandal : It never wears ont, never wants repair, and always prevents that un- due compression of the vessels which the weight of the body, in walking or standing, might otherwise occasion. The legs and thighs are like substantial and stately co- lumns ;• articulated in such a manner, that they administer most commodiously to the act of walking, yet obstruct not the easy posture of sitting. The legs swell out to- wards the top, with a gentle projection ; and are wrought off towards the bottom with neat diminutions ; which variation lessens their bulk^ at the same time that it increases their beauty. The ribs, turned into a regular arch, are gently moveable, for the act of respiration. They form a secure lodgment for the lungs and the heart, which lieing some of the most distinguished and important organs of life, have their residence fortified by this strong semicircular rampart.f The back- bone is intended, not only to strengthen the body, and sustain its most capacious store- rooms, but also to bring down that commu- nication of the brain, which is usually term- ed the spinal marrow. As an open channel, it conveys — as a well-closed case, it guards — this vital silver ;t and, by several com- modious outlets, transmits the animating treasure into all the inferior parts. Had it only been large, straight and hollow, it might * Styled therefore by the sacred philosopher, "the strong "men," Eccl. xii. 3, and compared by tlie same beautiful writer to pillars of marble. Cant. v. 15. t " Thou hast fenced me," secured my inward and vital parts, "with bones and sinews." Job x. 11. " Crates pectoris," is Virgil's expression. $ This is supposed to be the part which Solomon describes by the silver cord, and is indeed like a cord, on account of its shape ; like silver, on account of its colour. Eccl. xii. 6. have served these several purposes, but then the loins must have been inflexible, and every man impaled (not by the executioner, but by nature) on a stake coeval with his existence. To avoid which, it consists of very short bones, closely knit together by intervening cartilages. This peculiarity of structure prevents dislocation, and gives the main pillar of our frame the pliancy of an osier, even while it retains the firmness of an oak. By this means, it is a kind of con- tinued joint, capable of various inflections, without bruising the soft medullary sub- stance which fills its cavity, without inter- cepting the nervous fluid which is to be de- tached from this grand reservoir, or dimin- ishing that strength which is necessary to support all the upper stories. A formation so very peculiar in any other of the solids, must have been attended with great incon- veniences : here it is unspeakably service- able— is, both for workmanship and situa- tion, a master-piece of creating skill never enough to be admired. The arms, pendent on either side, are exactly proportioned to each other, that the equilibrium of the structure may not be dis- concerted. These being the guards which defend,* and the ministers which serve the whole body, are fitted for the most diversi- fied and extensive operations ; firm with bone, yet not weighty with flesh, and capa- ble of performing, with singular expedition and ease, all manner of useful motions. They bend inwards, and turn outwards ; they rise upwards, and stoop downwards ; they wheel about, and throw themselves into whatever direction we please. To tht'se are annexed the hands, and all termi- nated by the fingers; which are not, like the arms, of the same length, and of an equal bigness, but in both respects diflierent, which gives them a more graceful appearance, and a much greater degree of usefulness. Were they all flesh, they would be comparatively impotent ; were they one entire bone, they would be utterly inflexible ; but consisting of various little bones, and a multitude of muscles, what shape can they not assume? what service can they not perform ? Being ])laced at the end of the arm, the sphere of their action is exceedingly enlarged. This advantageous situation realizes the fable of Briaieus, and renders a pair of hands as serviceable as an hundred. The extremities of the fingers are an assemblage of fine ten- dinous fibres, most acutely sensible, ■[■ which, * Called in Solomon's figurative but elegant sketch of anatomy, " the keepers of the house." Eccl. xii. 3. t So very acute is the sensibility of these parts, that I am informed it furnishes the tribunal of the Inquisition with one of the most refined expedients in the art of torture. A stroni,' (luill, sharpened by the penknife, and dipped in some intiammable li- quor, is thrust deep between the nail and the finger DIALOGUE XII. 283 notwithstanding the delicacy of their tex- ture, are destined to almost incessant em- ploy, and frequently exercised among rug- ged objects. For this reason, they are over- laid with the nails, a sort of horny expan- sion, which, like a ferule, hinders the flesh from being ungracefully flattened ; and like a sheath preserves the tender parts from in- jurious impressions. In the ministry of the hands and activity of the fingersi we possess a case of the finest instruments, or a collection of the noblest utensils qualifying us for the execution of every work which the projecting genius can devise, or the lavish fancy crave. To these we are obliged for the beautiful statues, which have often entertained our eyes in yonder solitary walks ; and even for that melodious trumpet, which now addresses our ears from the summer-house on the fish- pond. These raise the lofty column, and turn the spacious arch. These swell the majestic dome, and adjust the commodious apartment. Architecture, with all her striking beauties, and all her rich benefits, is the creation of the human hand. Yield- ing to the strength of the hand, the tallest firs fall to the ground, and the largest oaks descend from the mountains. Fashioned by the dexterity of the hand, they accom- modate the sailor with a floating warehouse ; and circulate, from Britain to Japan, the productions of nature and the improvements of art. Obedient to the human hand, metals ascend from their subterranean beds, and compose the most substantial parts of that curious machine,* which transmits far and near, to the monarch's palace, and to the peasant's hut, such treasures of wisdom and knowledge, "as the gold and crystal cannot equal." Job xxviii. 17. Among the Egyptians, the hand was the symbol of strength ; among the Komans it was an emblem of fidelity; and I think it may, among all nations, be looked upon as the ensign of authority. It is the original and the universal sceptre ; that which not only represents, but ascertains, our dominion over all the elements, and over every crea- ture. Though providence has not given us the strength of the horse, the swiftness of the grey-hound, or the sagacious scent of the spaniel, yet, directed by the understand- ing, and enabled by the hand, we can sub- ject them to our will, turn them to our ad- vantage, and, in this sense, make them all our own. These hands, (surprising to re- late !) these short hands, have found out a When the quill has cut its way through the shivering nerves, and stands planted like a dagger, amidst the gushing blood, some barbarous hand sets fire to the extremity. The keen point, the slow flame, and both in the seat of the most lively sensation, put the mi- lerable sufferer to the most excruciating pain. • The printing-press. way, whereby they can dive to the bottom of the ocean, can penetrate the bowels of the earth, and reach from shore to shore. These feeble hands can manage the wings of the wind, can arm themselves with the rage of the fire, and press into their service the for- cible impetuosity of the waters. How emi- nent is the dignity, how extensive the agen- cy of the hand ! It would require more eloquence than your orator possessed to dis- play the former, and more pages than your book contains, to describe the latter. How greatly then are we indebted to our indul- gent Creator for accommodating us with this noble, this distinguishing, this invalua- ble member ! Above all is the head, a majestic dome, designed for the residence of the brain. It is framed in exact conformity to this impor- tant purpose ; ample, to receive it, strong to uphold it, and firm to defend it. As the head resembles the generars tent in an ar- my, or the monarch's palace in a city, it has a communication established with all, even the most inferior and remote parts of the system ; has outlets and avenues, for the ready dispatch of couriers to all quarters, and for the reception of speedy intelligence on every interesting occasion. It is furnish- ed with lodgments, wherein to post centi- nels of various characters, and appointed for various offices. To expedite their opera- tions, whether they are employed in recon- noitring what passes without, or examining what claims admittance within, the whole turns upon a curious pivot, most nicely con- trived to afford the largest and freest cir- cumvolutions. This stately capital is screened from heat, defended from cold, and, at the same tim«, very much beautified, by a copious growth of hair, which flows down from the parted forelock in decent curls, and hangs mantling on the cheeks, clustering on the shoulders. A decoration incomparably more delicate than any or all the orders of architecture can supply, and so perfectly light, that it no way encumbers or incommodes the wearer. While many animals creep on the ground, while all of them are prone in their posture or their aspect, the attitude of man is erect, which is by far the most graceful, has an air of dignity, and bespeaks superiority. It is by far the most commodious ; fits us for the prosecution of every grand scheme, and facilitates the success of all our extensive designs. It is likewise attended with the greatest safety, being, if not less than any other position exposed to dangers, yet more happily contrived to repel or avoid them. ^isp. May it not likewise be intended to remind us of our exalted original, and our sublime end : Our original, which was the breath of the Almighty, and the spirit of 284 THERON AND ASPA6I0. the Most High ; our end, which is not the soil we tread on, or any of its low produc- tions, but the heaven of heavens, and the "things that are above." But not to divert from our subject, which, in my friend's manner of handling it, is as entertaining as it is instructive : — The bones (to carry on your own allusion) are only the rafters, the beams, the shell of the living edifice. You have raised the walls, and laid the floors ; you have made the proper divisions, and left the necessary apertures. But in every finished house the roof is co- vered, and the rooms are vvainscotted. The sashes are hung, and the doors turn upon their hinges. The grates are fixed and the stairs ascend. Within, the lodgings are furnished ; without, the front is ornament- ed. All is rendered commodious for do- mestic use, and graceful to the external view. Ther. This likewise is executed by the great, the divine Artificer. Here are liga- ments ; a tough and strong arrangement of fibres, to unite the several limbs, and render what would otherwise be a disjointed un- wieldy jumble, a well-compacted and self- manageable system. Membranes, or thin and flexible tunicles appointed to inwrap the fleshy parts, to form a connexion be - tween some, and make a separation between others.* Arteries, the rivers of our little world,f or the aqueducts of the organized metropo- lis, some of which ascend to the head, others spread themselves over the shoulders ; some extend to the arms, some descend to the feet, and striking out, as they go, into num- berless smaller canals, visit the streets, the alleys, and every individual apartment of the vital city : These being wide at their origin, and lessening as they branch themselves, check the rapid impetus of the blood. To sustain this shock, they are endued with uncommon strength ; by performing this service, they oblige the crimson current to pass into the narrowest defiles, and distri- bute itself into all quarters. The blood thrown from the heart dilates the arteries, and their own elastic force contracts them. By which means, they vibrate in proper places, very perceivably against the finger ; bring advices of the utmost importance to the physician ; and very much assist him, both in discovering the nature of diseases, and prescribing for their respective cures. The larger arteries, wherever the body is formed for incurvation, are situate on the bending side ; lest being stretched to an * The intestines are fastened to each other by the mesentery. The breast is divided into two ca- vities by the " mediastinum." Both which are reck- oned among the membranes. t A Imman body was called by the anc-ents the '< miciuccbm," that is, a little world, or the world in miniature. improper length by the inflection, their di- mensions should be lessened, and the cir- culating fluid retarded. They are not, like several of the considerable veins, laid so near the surface, as to be protrusive of the skin, but are deposited to a proper depth in the flesh. This situation renders them more secure from external injuries. It conceals likewise those starts and resilitions of the pulse, which, if apparent, would discompose the most sedate, and disfigure the most comely countenance. Could we cast our eye upon the river which runs through the neighbouring meadow, we might observe several mills intersecting the stream. The waters, at those places, if not entirely stop- ped, drain away very slowly. In conse- quence of this obstruction, the lower chan- nels would be sunk dry, and the upper ones swelled into a flood. To obviate both these inconveniences, low- shots are provided, which carrying off' the surcharge, prevent a glut above, and supply the banks below. In those parts of the body, which are most liable to pressure, much the same expedient takes place. The arteries inosculate, or, breaking into a new track, they fetch a little circuit, in order to return and communicate again with the main road. So that, if any obstacle blocks up or straitens the direct passage, the current, by diverting to this new channel, eludes the impediment, main- tains an uninterrupted flow, and soon re- gains its wonted course. Veins are appointed to receive the blood from the arteries, and re-convey it to the heart. Small at their rise, and enlarging as they advance, they are void of any pulsa- tion. In these, the pressure of the circu- lating fluid is not near so forcible as in the arterial tubes ; for which reason, their tex- ture is considerably slighter. Such an ex- act economist is nature, even amidst all her liberality!* In many of these canals, the current, though winding continually and acquiring a proportionable increase of gra- vity, is obliged to push its way against the perpendicular. By which circumstance it is exposed to the hazard of falling back, and overloading the vessels, if not of supressing the animal motion. For a security against this danger, valves are interposed at proper distances, which are no hinderance to the regular passage, but prevent the reflux, sus- tain the augmented weight, and facilitate a progress to the grand receptacle. This auxiliary contrivance comes in, where the blood is constrained to climb ; but is dis- missed where the steep ascent ceases, and such a precaution would be needless. * A parallel instance of frugality is observable in the arteries, whose coats are spun thinner, as the diameter of the vessels becomes smaller, and the pressure of the blood weaker DIALOGUE XII. 285 Here are glands, wliose office It is to fil- trate the passing fluid. Each of these glands is an assemblage of vessels, complicated and intervolved with seeming confusion, but with perfect regularity. As some kind of sieves transmit the dust, and retain the com ; others bolt out the meal, and hold back the bran ; so some of these glandulous strainers draw off the finest, others the gross- est parts of the blood. Some, like the dis- tiller's alembic, sublimate ;" others, like the common sewers, defecate, f Each forms a secretion far more curious than the most admired operations of chemistry; yet all necessary for the support of life, or condu- cive to the comfort of the animal. Muscles wove in nature's nicest loom ; composed of the slenderest fibres, yet endued wdth in- credible strength ; fashioned after a variety of patterns, but all in the highest taste for elegance,conveniency, and usefulness. These, with their tendons annexed, constitute the instruments of motion. The former, con- tracting their substance, operate somewhat like the pulley in mechanics. The latter, resembling the cord, are fastened to a bone, or some paitition of flesh ; and, following the muscular contraction, actuate the part into which they are inserted. This, and all their functions, they execute, not like a slug- gish beast of burden, but quick as the light- ning. Nerves, surprisingly minute tubes — derived from the brain, and permeated by an exquisitely subtile fluid, which, gliding into the muscles, sets them on work — dif- fuses the power of sensation through the body; or, returning upon any impression from without, gives all needful intelligence to the soul. Vesicles, distended with an xmctuous matter, in some places, compose a soft cushion^ for nature, in other places, they fill up her vacuities, and smooth the inequalities of the flesh. Inwardly, they supple the several movements of the active machine ; outwardly, they render its ap- pearance plump, weU proportioned, and graceful. The skin, like a curious surtout,§ exactly fitted, is superinduced over the whole, form- * The glandulous substance of the brain, which secretes the animal spirits. [ The liver and kidneys. The former of which se- parates the gall, the latter drains off a fluid, which, being sufficiently known, need not be named. I could wish, it had not been so explicitly and coarsely men- tioned in our translation of the best of books, but that we had rendered the original, in 1 Kings xiv. 10. " Every male;" in Isaiah, xxxvi. 12. " Eat and drink their own excrements." tThe calf of the leg for instance, whose large collec- tion of muscles, intermingled with fat, is of singular service to those important bones. It flanks and forti- fies them like a strong bastion. It supports and che- rishes them like a soft pillow. And what is no less pleasing to observe, i t accommodates and defends them on that very side, where they most frequently rest their weight, and where they are least capable of being guarded by the eye. 5 " Thou hast clothed me with skin and flesh," Job X. a ed of the most delicate net-work, whose meshes* are minute, and whose tlu'eadst are multiplied even to a prodigy. The meshes so minute, that nothing passes them, which is discernible by the eye ; though they discharge every moment myriads and myi-jads of superfluous incumbrances from the body. The steam, arising from the wami business transacted within, is carried off by these real, though imperceptible funnels.l which constitutes what We usudly call inl sensible perspiration. The threads so mul- tiplied, that neither the point of the small- est needle, nor the incomparably nicer spear of a gnat, nor even the invisible lancet of a flea, can pierce any single part, without causing an uneasy sensation, and a suffusion of blood ; consequently, without wounding, even by so small a puncture, both a nerve and a vein.§ The veins, either pervading or Ipng pa- rallel \vith this fine transparent coat, beauti- fy the human structure ; those parts espe- cially, which are most conspicuous, and in- tended for public view. The pliant wrist, and the taper arm, they variegate with an inlay of living sapphire. — They spread ver- milion over the lips,|| and plant roses in the cheeks, while the eye, tinged with glossy jet, or sparkling with the blue of heaven, is fixed in an orb of polished crystal. In- somuch that the eartldy tabernacle exhibits the nicest proportions and richest graces ; * The pores of thecuticula. t The nervous fibres, and other vessels of the cutis. Nature is somewhat like Solomon's virtuous woman, " who is not afraid of the snow for her household, because her household are clothed in scarlet ;" or, as it may be rendered, are clothed " with pairs," have two coats a-piece, Prov. xxxi. 21. (See Gen. vi. 19. 20, where the word occurs in this signification). The body also is accommodated with a double covering. The outermost is that soft whitish tegument, which rises in the pustule of a blister. The innermost is that reddish and exquisitely tender part, which appears when the blister is broke, and the dead skin taken off. The first is void of sense, and intended to screen the second, not only from the stroke of injuries, but even from the impressions of the air, which, mild as it may feel to the sheathed, would be too rough and sharp for the naked nerves. There seems to be an allusion to this particular in that remarkable expression, " Skin for skin," Job. ii. 4. "skin even unto skin," the very inmost skin, which cannot be taken away without thegreatest loss, and se- verest pain. Yet even this loss a man would suffer, this pam he would endure in order to preserve precious life. :f These are somewhere prettily styled cutaneous chimneys, and no wonder they are imperceptible, if, as Mr. Lewenhoeck aflarms, a single grain of sand will cover no less than 125,(100. § A blood-ve«selatlcast. Compared with these ve»- sels, the fine filmy threads, which, on some bright au- tumnal morning, float in the air, or hang on the stub- ble, must be large as a bell-rope, or bulky as a cable. Such tubes, one would think, would burst at every breath we draw, or even break with their own fineness. Yet they are the conduit-pipes, which convey the vital fluid from and to thegrand reservoir. And so exquisite, so admirable is their texture, that they will outlast the strength of lead, or the heart of oak, — these wearing away, those growing stronger by use. II " Thy lips are like a thread of scarlet," Cant. iv. 3. Like a thread, for their delicate shape ; like a thread of scarlet for their colour. 286 THERON AND ASPASIO. such nice proportions as afford the most correct model for statuaiy : such rich graces, as the canvass never bore, as painting imi- tates in vain. Asp. How just in itself, and how perti- nent to our purpose, is that well-kjiowai ac- knowledgment of the sacred and royal ana- tomist; " I am curiously \^TOught!"* " There is a variety, a regidarity, and an elegance, in the texture of my body ; in the formation and arrangement of these bones and muscles, these veins and arteries ; — resembling, shall I say ? — rather infinitely suipassing the most costly and admired pieces of embroid- ery." It is one of the finest similitudes which the whole cii-cle of polite arts could afford. Yet ever}' comparison, fetched from the per- formances of mankind, must necessarily de- base the noble subject. All the enrichments which the needle can give, or the most splen- did silks receive, are rude, are coarse, are mere sackcloth, vi'hen set in opposition to the exquisite delicacy of the fleshly web. As, indeed, all the celebrated palaces, am- phitheatres, temples, M'hich ever adonied the most magnificent cities in the world, are but a heap of confusion, if compared with the symmetry and beauty of the bodily fabric. And, what is beyond measure marvellous, all these wonders of mechanism and deco- ration arose, not from the purer elements, not from the more refined parts of the crea- tion, but from the dust of the ground, f How easily, Theron, can that stupendous Artificer renew our hearts, and transform om: souls into his own image, who could raise such delicate and stately edifices from particles — despicable particles of the trodden soil ! I could not forbear interposing this re- mark ; because it tends to manifest our Cre- ator's glory, to encourage oiu: hopes, and strengthen our faith ; otherwise I should be angry with myself for interrupting yoiu- dis- course. Pray go on with your description of the animal economy : oidy let me ob- sen'e, that such a course of incessant action must exhaust the fluids, must waste the so- lids ; and, unless both are supplied WTth proper recruits, must gradually weaken, and at length totally destroy the machine. Ther. For this reason, it is furnished with the oigans, and endued with the pow- ers of nutrition. — Teeth, the foremost thin and sharp, fitted to bite asunder the food, or cut J off such a portion as the mouth can * The original signifies " finely wrought," or " ele- gantly flourished with a needle." The translation adoptc cient philosophers, to descend from heaven j and which, I believe, our Christian divines will allow, has a happy tendency to lead people thither ; because, of all other prepa- ratives, it best disposes thenfi for that bless- ed Redeemer, who is the way, the only way to those blissful mansions. Now I have mentioned a way, let me sup- pose you travelling through an unknown country. You come to a place, where the road divides itself into two equally-inviting parts. You are at a loss which track to pursue. Whose direction will you choose to follow ? that man's who has passed through neither of them ; that man's who has passed through one of them only; or that man's who has passed and repassed them both ? To wait for an answer, would be an aflfront to your judgment. Only let me observe, that the last is your Aspasio's case. He has travelled long, and proceeded far, even in your path. All that circumspection and assiduity, all that prayer and self denial, all that fasting and alms, and every other means of grace could do, in order to establish a righteousness of his own, has been done ; But to no purpose. He has also trod every step in the way which he recommends to his beloved friend. He has made the trial ; can set his probatum est to whatever he ad- vises ; and may very truly say, with his divine Master, " We speak that we do know," John iii. 11, and testify that we have experienced. Ther. I am sorry to observe, that the night is coming on, and our conversation almost at an end. My regret is increased, by the consideration of your intended journey. Though business obliges you to depart, it will, I hope, afford you leisure to write. This will be some compensation for the want of your company. Yonder sun is sinking below the horizon. and just taking his leave of our earth. To retard the departing radiance, at least to alleviate the approaching loss, those western clouds catch the rays, and reflect them to our view in a most amusing diversity of co- lours. By this means we enjoy the great luminary in his beams, even when his orb is withdrawn from our sight An epistolary correspondence has something of the same nature. Letters may be called the talk of absent friends. By this expedient, they communicate their thoughts, even though countries, kingdoms, or seas intercept their speech. You must therefore promise me this satisfaction ; and let me converse with my Aspasio by the pen, when I can no long- er have an intercourse with him in person. | Asp. You have anticipated me, Theron. Otherwise, what is now my promise would have been my request. I cannot but take notice of another par- ticularity in that magnificent assemblage of clouds. How they varied their appearance, as the lamp of day changed its situation ! A little while ago, these curtains of the sky were streaked with orange, or tinged with amber. Presently, they borrowed the blush of the rose, or the softened red of the pink. Ere long, they glow with vermilion, or deepen into fCrimson. Soon succeeds the purple-tinctured robe of majesty ; and as soon (thus transient is all sublunary gran- deur I) gives place to the sable veil of even- ing, or the gloomy pall of night. Such, I trust, will be the issue of my Theron's pre- sent apprehensions. All his splendid ideas of human excellency and self-righteousness will become faint, will lose their imaginary lustre, till at length they fade away, and darken irUo absolute self-abasement. Then the Sun of Righteousness will be amiable, will be desirable, as the beauties of the dawn breaking upon the shades of night. LETTERS. LETTER 1. AspASio TO Theron. Dear Theron, — I am now at the seat of my worthy friend Camillus, where busi- ness and incl,ination will fix me for some weeks. This evening we had a most pleasing ramble. I have met with nothing so agreeable since I left your house, and lost your company. The time was just arrived, and the scene was fully opened, which furnished our great poet with his fine description : Now was the sun in western cadence low, from noon ; and gentle airs, due at their hour. To fan the earth now waked, and usher in The evening cool. At this juncture, Camillus invited me to take the air. We walked several times along a close shady alley, arched with the foliage of filberts. Here, hid from every eye, and the whole world withdrawn from our view, we seemed like monks strolling in 320 THERON AND ASPASIO. their cloisters. Turning short at the end, we enter a parallel range of majestic and uniformly spreading walnut-trees. This transition was somewhat like advancing, through a low porch, into the aisles of a mag- nificent cathedral. The broad leaf and large trunk of those lordly trees, their very diffu- sive spread, added to their prodigious height, gave them an air of uncommon dignity. It swells the imagination with vast ideas, and entertains us with a romantic kind of de- light, to expatiate amidst such huge columns, and under such superb elevations of living architecture. Quitting our cathedral, we turn once again, and pass into a grand colonnade of oaks ; so regular in their situation, so simi- lar in their size, and so remarkably corres- pondent in every circumstance, that they looked like the twins of nature, not only belonging to the same family, but produced at the same birth. Through these lay a walk, straight, spacious, and gracefully long, far exceeding the last in the extent of its area, though much inferior in thestateliness of its ceiling. It put me in mind of that di- vine benignity, which has allowed us six days for the prosecution of our own com- paratively low affairs, and set apart but one for the more immediate attendance onthe sublime exercises of devotion. This walk was covered with the neatest gravel, and not a weed to be seen, nor one spire of grass, through the whole extended surface. It stole into a continual ascent, yet so very gradually, that the rise was scarce discernible, either by the searching eye, the toiling feet, or the panting breath. At the extremity, a handsome summer-house show- ed a flight of steps, and half a Venetian door. The rest of the building was hid by the clustering branches. As soon as we enter the apartment, Ca- millus throws open the left-hand sash, and with it a most enlarged and amusive pros- pect. The structure appeared situate on the brow of a considerable eminence, whose sides were partly confused and wild with broken rocks, partly shagged and perplexed with thorny shrubs. The spectator is agree- ably surprised to find himself accommodated with so elegant a mansion, on the summit of so rude and ruinous a spot. But how greatly is his surprise and his satisfaction augmented, when he casts his eye forward, and beholds the beautiful meads, which, from the foot of this rugged hill, stretch themselves into a space almost unmeasur- able ! Through the midst of this extensive vale, which was decked with the finest verdure, and replenished with the richest herbage, a river rolled its copious flood — rolled in a thousand serpentine meanders, as though it had lost its way in the flowery labyrinth, or made repeated efforts of flowing back to its source, till at last, having wandered more than twice the length of the meadows, hav- ing held a mirrcy to the aspiring poplars and bending willows, having paid a welcome sa- lute to several ornamented villas, and passed through the arches of two or three curiously pendent bridges, it seemed to meet the sky, and mingle with the horizon. Opposite to the front window, a cascade fell from the adjacent stream. It flashed and foamed along the broad slope, indented with small pits, and jagged with protuberant stones. The current, vexed and embarrass- ed, seemed to rave at the intervening ob- stacles, and forcing its rapid, indignant, so- norous way, struck the ear with a peal of liquid thunder. These fretful vraters — let our angry passions observe the admonition, and follow the example — soon were pacified, soon forgot to chide. Collected into a little rivulet, they ran off in calm and silent lapse, till they lost themselves amongst beds of osier and plantations of alder. The river, widening as it flowed, was parted here and there by several little islands ; some tufted with reeds, and the re- sort of swans ; some adorned with stately porticoes and splendid alcoves, the graceful retreats of rural pleasure ; some furnished with green embowering walks, fitted for studious retirement and sedate contempla- tion. On either side of the charming valley, towns and villages lay thick, and looked gay, adding ornament and variety to the scene, and receiving innumerable advantages from the passing wave. The whole recalled to an attentive ob- server's mind that amiable and august spec- tacle, which the Syrian soothsayer could not behold without a rapture of delight : Numb, xxiii- 7 : " From the top of the rocks I see the tribes of Jehovah, and from the hills I behold the habitations of his chosen people. How goodly are thy tents, O Jacob ! and thy tabernacles, O Israel ! As the valleys are they spread forth, as gardens by the river's side ; as trees of exquisite fragrance,* which the Lord hath planted ; as cedars of stateliest growth, flourishing beside the waters." We had but just looked about us when a messenger came for Camillus. As he was called to settle some private affairs, I chose to stay in this inviting retreat ; and deter- mined to make myself amends for the loss of Camillus' company, by beginning a corres- * Numb. xxiv. 5. 6. It is well known that the ori- ginal word is used m the sacred writings, to denote either a delightful perfume, Prov. vii. 17, or that aro- matic plant which produces it. Cant. iv. 14. For which reason, I think it very justifiable to render the expression, " trees of exquisite fragrance," and am persuaded it will be far more intelligible to thegener ality of readers, than " trees of lign-aloes." LETTER I. 321 pondence with my Tlieron. We have pen, ink, nnd paper, in all our rural retirenients, that if any thing is started in discourse, or occurs in meditation, worthy to be remem- bered, it may immediately be' committed to writing. I could not but observe to my friend, that, fine as the prospect appeared, there was one decoration wanting ; if some grand deformi- ty may be called a decoration. The ridges of a bleak and barren mountain, or the skirts of a sun-burnt tawny heath, would give additional liveliness to the ornamented parts of the landscape, and make their beau- ties strike with double vigour. This also, by showing us what wretched abodes and inhospitable quarters might have fallen to our share, would awaken in our hearts a more fervent gratitude to the Supreme Dis- poser of things ; who has cast our " lot in a fairer ground, and given us a more goodly heritage." So, a proper knowledge of the divine law — of its sublime perfections and rigorous sanction — ^joined with a conviction of our own extreme deficiency and manifold trans- gressions ; — all this would endear the blessed Jesus to our affections, and powerfully re- commend his righteousness to our desires. The remainder of this epistle, therefore, shall turn upon some instances of duty en- joined m that sacred system : by which it may be highly useful to examine onr con- duct and sift our hearts ; in which, I believe, we have all fallen short, and are all become guilty ; from which, we may learn the im- perfection of our best services, and see the inexpressible need of a better righteousness than our own. The knowledge of God is the foundation of all vital religion, and indeed is the con- summation of human happiness. It is not only matter of present duty, but the very essence of our future bliss : " This is hfe eternal, to know thee the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom thou hast sent.'' John xvii. 3. Yet, important and obligato- ry as it is, are we not very defective in this divine science ? Have we duly acquainted ourselves with the marvellous excellencies of the Lord Jehovah ? his uncontrollable pow- er, and all-comprehending wisdom ; his un- bounded goodness, and unwearied patience ; his immaculate holiness, and inflexible jus- tice ; his never-failing faithfulness, and in- violable veracity ? Have we, according to the direction of our inspired tutor, pursued this sacred study on our knees? James i. 5 ; and sought this most noble of all intel- 'ectual endowments, not merely from books, but principally at the throne of grace? Have we sought it, like that ancient Jew- ish student, with an early application, and with incessant assiduity ; even " from the flower till the grape was ripe? Eccl. li. 15. Is that scanty ray of knowledge, which perhaps has forced itself through our ori- ginal darkness, operative on our affections ? " Have we loved the Lord our God with all our heart?"— "This is the first and great commandment!" Matth. xxii. 38. Have we constantly entertained the most magnifi- cent and honourable thoughts of his sublime perfections ? Is our esteem for this im- mensely great and most blessed Being high superlative, matchless ? somewhat like that expressed by the Psalmist, " Whom have I in heaven but thee ? and there is none upon earth that I desire in comparison of thee " Psalm Ixxiii. 25. Have we been affection- ately concerned for his glorv, and zealous to advance his holy religion? troubled, very sensibly ti'oubled, when our Maker's honour has been trampled in the dust, by licentious tongues, or flagitious deeds ? Have we made it our ruling care to ap- prove the whole of our life, and the most secret transactions of our breast, to his all- seeing eye? resolved, dehberately resolved to sacrifice, not only our darling lusts, but even our most valuable interests, whenever they stand in competition with the good pleasure of his will ? In a «'ord, as the hart panteth after the water-brooks, with such vehement and inextinguishable ardour have we thirsted after— a brighter manifestation of his divine attributes — some sweeter as- surances of his special love — and an eveu increasing conformity to his holy image? Such was the temper of those excellent men, who are characterised in the scriptures of truth as children of the Highest, and pat- terns for our imitation. This is their lan- guage : " The desire of our soul is unto thy name, and to the remembrance of thee. With my soul have I desired thee in the night ; yea, with my spirit within me will I seek thee early."* Isa. xxvi. 8, 9. Neither is such warmth of love, and fervour of de- sire, any needless or extravagant pitch of devotion : but a reasonable service, hidis- pensably due, from all intelligent creatures, to the great author of their being ; in whom all possible perfections, with the utmost ex altation and dignity, reside: from whom all manner of blessings, in the most copious and never-failing communications, flow. When we receive from an absent friend rich and repeated presents ; casks of gener- *We can hardly tell which to admire most, the beauty of the description, or the piety of the persons. I have desired, and not with inactive wishes, but such as prompt to vigorous endeavours. I will seek thee: and early, with the most vigilant application, and un- wearied assiduity. The emphasis is very much in- creased, by the addition of these lively words, " with my soul, yea, with my whole spirit;" with the whole bent and sway of my affections, and with the steady invariable determination of my judgment. Thus have I desired thee, even in the night ; when both the pursuitsand the thoughts ofotherjpeople are sunk and lost in profound repose. Thus will I seek thee, with a zeal — early as the rising — constant as the returning sun. 322 THERON AND ASPASIO. ous vvine, or jars of delicious fruit, we feel ourselves enkindled into a grateful affection. We honour, we love the person, who allows us such a distinguished place in his heart ; and expresses bis cordial regard, by such a series of active and tender benevolence. The blessed God is a friend to us all, infinitely powerful, and equally munificent. We are the constant objects of his more than friend- ly, of his parental cares. Every passing mo- ment is a messenger of his patience, and charged with some token of his bounty. For our sake, he has di Abused blessings over all the face of the earth, and commanded every element to concur in ministering to our ac- commodation. He has not only adapted his benefits to our several wants ; but has given them a diversification, large as the scope of our wishes ; and an enrichment, far beyond all that our fancy could conceive. Profuse liberality ! yet small and scanty, compared with his most adorable benignity in Christ Jesus - What, if God, willing to manifest the superabundant riches of his kindness, had made bare the arm of his omnipotence, and struck a most miraculous road through the surges of the ocean, to afford us a safe passage ? — if, to accommodate us in our travels, he had brought waters out of the flinty i"ock ; aiid bid the ravens bring meat to our hands, bid the winds convey manna to our doors ? — if, to furnish us with a com- modious settlement, he had dethroned mighty kings, dispossessed populous nations, and made the walls of impregnable cities fall to the ground? — if, to further the dispatch of our business, or facilitate the conquest of our enemies, he had arrested the sun in his meridian career, and laid an embargo upon the moon setting out on her nightly tour ? In short, if, to promote our welfare, he had suspended the powers, and controlled the laws of universal nature ; had wrought all the miracles exhibited in the land of Egypt, or recorded in the volumes of inspiration ; — should we not think ourselves under the most inviolable engagements to love the Lord our God, " who had done so great things for us ?" to love liim unfeignedly and ardently; to love him with a supreme affec- tion, far above every other amiable object ? Yet we have greater, incomparably greater obligations to our almighty Benefactor. For rhear, O heavens ! wonder, O earth ! and let eternity dwell upon the stupendous truth !) " God spared not his Son — his own Son" — his transcendently glorious and divinely ex- cellent Son — but delivered him up to the deepest humiliation, and to the most ac- ciu-sed death, for us men, and our salvation." O, Theron ! have we been impressed with wonder, at the contemplation of this good- ness ? Have our hearts glowed with grati- tude, under a sense of these mercies ? Surely | no man need be convicted of any other crime at the great tribunal than insensibility of such love, and ingratitude for such fa- vours. This, without the accession of hor- rid impieties, is enough to leave him abso- lutely inexcusable. This is enough to prove him one of the most disingenuous and de- testable of creatures. Have we exercised ourselves in frequent thanksgiving? Many are the exhortations to this honourable duty. " Praise thy God, O Zion," Psalm cxivii. 12, " praise him for his mighty acts ;" Psalm cl. 2 ; " praise him according to his excellent greatness."* Innumerable are the incitements to abound in this pleasant service. Every comfort has a voice, and cries in the ear of reason, " O that men would therefore praise the Lord for his goodness !" Every deliverance en- forces the address, and furnishes fresh ma- terials for the heavenly employ. The man after God's own heart declares, as an invit- ing example for our practice, " I will bless the Lord at all times ; his praise shall con- tinually be in my mouth."' Psalm xxxiv. 1. " Yea, as long as I have any being, I will sing praises unto my God," Psalm cxlvi. 2. Indeed, when we consider the inexhaustibly rich bounty of God our Creator, and the in- conceivably tender mercy of God oiu^ Re- deemer, it is both strange and deplorable that the love of God is not always prevail- ing in our hearts, and the language of praise ever flowing from our lips. I will not suppose our character so irre- ligious, that we have neglected the daily woi-ship of God, either in our closet or in our family : But have we prayed with that profound reverential awe, which is due to the high and lofty One, " who inhabiteth eternity?" Have we made our supplications with that fervent importunity which may, in some measure, correspond with the ex- treme indigence of our state, and the invalu- able worth of the blessings v\'e crave ? Have our petitions been attended with that steady affiance, which may glorify the goodness, the power, the veracity of the Lord ? may evi- dently declare that he " is rich in mercy to all that call upon him;" Rom. x. 12; that he is the Lord Jehovah, in whom is ever- lasting strength ;" Isa. xxvi. 4 ; " that he is the God of truth, and faithful for ever." Deut. xxxii. 4. We call him Father ; but have we trusted in him with that unsuspect- * Among these exhortations, we may rank that beautiful and devout addres? to God, Psalm xxii. 3- Thou that inhabitest — light inaccessible, shall I say ? the regions of immensity, or the ages of eternity ? No, but what is a more exalted character — the praises of Israel: finely signifying that praise is a most ac- ceptable sacrifice, to which the divine Majesty at- tends with the greatest delight; intimating also, that the exercise oSf praise should not be an occasional thing, like a transient visit to a stranger's house ; but a daily and almost unintermitted service, like Uie «t4.ted residence of a person in his own habitation. LETTER I. 323 Ittg, cheerful, filial confidence, which a child reposes on the fidelity and indulgence of such an earthly relative ? Have we not en- tertained, too often entertained, narrow, dis- honourable, beggarly apprehensions, concern- ing the treasures of his liberality, and the bowels of his pity ; rating them even lower than our parents, our friends, or our own ? Have we been careful to carry the spirit of our prayers into our ordinary conversation, and waited at the door, as well as approach- ed to the throne of grace ? — Amidst the in- tervals of our solemn devotions, have we cultivated an ejaculatory intercourse with heaven ? How highly would the asnbitious courtier prize, and how frequently would he use a privy key, which should give him, at all hours, free admittance to his sovereign. This key of admittance, only to an iiifinite- ly more exalted Potentate, we all possess in the practice of mental aspirations to God. It is certainly the noblest employ, and will be the richest improvement of our thoughts, to send them in such short embassies to the King of kings ; and to derive, by such occa- sional sallies of faith* a renewed supply » We have, in Scripture, very remarkable instances of the success which has attended ejaculatory prayer. Observe Nehemiah : He stands before Ahasuerus, ap- prehensive of the monarch's displeasure, yet desirous to solicit him in behalf of Jerusalem. To bedelivered from his fears, and to obtain his desires, what method does he use ? The mean and servile arts of flattery ? No; but the manly and devout expedient of prayer. I prayed, says the patriot, to the God of heaven. — We camiot suppose, that he fell on his knees, or spoke with his lips, while he continued in the royal presence. Buthe darted up his soul in silent supplication; which supplication pierced the clouds, reached the eternal throne, and returned not again till a blessing was sent ; such as totally averted the wrath he dreaded, and pro- cured favour and assistance much larger than he ex- pected. Neh. ii. 4. When David heard that Ahithophel, tne ablest po- litician in his kingdom, was revolted to Absalom ; sen- sible what a loss his affairs had sustained, and what an advantage the rebellious party had acquired, he betook himself to his God. He staid not for an opportunity of retirement, but instantly and upon the spot cried, " O Lord, I pray thee, turn the counsel of Ahithophel into foolishness !" — A short address, but very effica- cious. He who disappointeth the devices of the craf- ty, sent a spirit of infatuation among the rebels; and inclined them to reject the advice of that judicious statesman. Which false step brought upon their hor- rid enterprise the ruin it deserved, and chagrined the wretched traitor, even to rage, frenzy, and suicide. 2 Sam. XV. 31 ; xvii. 23. Amyntor, at a memorable period of his life, was under great distress of conscience, and harassed by violent temptations. He made his case known to an experienced friend, who said, " Amyntor, you do not pray." — Surprised at this, he replied, " I pray, if such a thing be possible, too much. I can hardly tell how many times in the day I bow my knee before God : almost to the omission of my other duties, and the ne- glect of my necessary studies." " You mistake my meaning, dear Amyntor. 1 do not refer you to the ceremony of the knee, but to the devotion of the heart ; which neglects not any business, but inter- mingles prayer with all ; which, in every place, looks unto the Lord; and, on every occasion, lifts up an in- digent, longing soul, for the supply of his grace. Thus," (added he, and spoke with a peculiar vehe- mence), "this is the prayer which all the devils in hell cannot withstand." This, I wouldfurther observe, is the prayer which brings down somewhat of heaven into the heart; in which I would desire to abound, and would earnestly recommend to all my acquaint- ance, and all my readers. from the fountain of all good- How great a loss then must it be to our spiritual inter- ests, and how contemptuous a disregard of the evei-present Jehovah, to omit entirely, or long to discontinue, this most beneficial practice of habitual adoration? — Can you, niy dear Theron, acquit yourself on this ar- ticle of inquiiy ? Has not every day of your life been a day of negligence in this respect ; been a perpetual disobedience to our Savi- oiu-'s injunction, " Men ought, in this man- ner, always to pray, and not to faint?" Luke xviii. 1. Have we sanctified the Sabbath? Has tne Lord's day, with all its solemn and sacred oflices, been our delight ? Have we remem- bered that distinguished portion of our time, as Jacob remembered the delightful inter- view at Peniel ? Have we expected it, as merchants expect the arrival of a richly la- den vessel ? Have we improved it, as hus- bandmen improve the shining hours of the harvest ? Have we wholly laid aside every earthly engagement, " not speaking our own words," Isa Iviii. 13, nor allowing our- selves in any gratifications that may inter- rupt our communion with the Father of Spirits ? Has " one day in his courts been preferable to a thousand," Psal. Ixxxiv. 10, spent either in the works of our calling, or in the scenes of recreation ? Have the me- morials of our Redeemer's dying merits, and the seals of his unchangeable loving-kindness, been relished as a feast, and prized as a por- tion ? Have we honoured God's holy word ? What greater mark of disesteem than to de- spise a person's discourse, and not to think his speech worthy of our notice ? especially when he addresses us with very great seri- ousness, and with the utmost affection. In our Bible, the God of glory speaks to his creatures ; speaks with the most persuasive energy, and with all the yearnings of parental tenderness. Have we listened to our Crea- tor, with reverence and delight ; and rejoiced with trembling at — " Thus saith the Lord?" Have we searched the oracles of truth, not merely as scholars, but as sinners ; not from a spirit of curiosity, or with an air of forma- lity, but with a solicitude and ardour becom- ing persons who inquire after the Saviour of their lost souls ? Have we submitted our inmost thoughts to their impartial scrutiny ; to receive conviction of sin from their aw- ful remonstrances, and to hear the sentence of condemnation at their righteous bar? Have we been willing to suflf'er the reproach of conscious baseness, while they have ripped up the disguises of falsehood, laid open our secret iniquities, and brought all our evil ways to remembrance ? Thus Josiah acted : " His heart was tender, and he humbled himself before the Lord : he rent his clothes, and wept before the Lord, when he heard 324 THERON AND ASPASIO. ^the words of the book of the law." 2 Chron. xxxiv. 27. Have we hid the glad tidings of the gos- pel within our memories, within our hearts ? Have we been diligent to suck this " honey- comb" (Cant. V. 1.) of grace, by concomi- tant meditation, and subsequent prayer ? Have we valued the precious promises, as gentlemen of wealth value the writings of their private estates ; or as infranchised bo- dies esteem the charter of their public pri- vileges ? Have we, like the princely patri- arch, longed for those words of edification, exhortation, and comfort, more than for our necessary food ? Job xxiii. 1 2, and, like the royal prophet, prevented the night-watches, that we may be occupied in those statutes and ordinances of heaven ? Psalm cxLx. 1 48. We have hitherto confined the examina- tion to a few instances of the affirmative kind ; how dreadfully will the dark account be swelled, if, instead of love and obedience, there be hatred and opposition — hatred of the name, glory, and worship of God — op- position to his interest, kingdom, and ser- vice ? God is infinite perfection, worthy of all admiration, exalted above all praise. Yet do not our thoughts more frequently, or more naturally, turn upon our own accom- plishments, than upon the adorable and shining attributes of the almighty ? This is, in itself, the most shamel'ul dotage ; and, in God's sight, the most abominable idolatry. Yet let us observe what passes within, and we shall probably find, that as damps ai'ise in the mines, or fogs in the feimy grounds, so naturally and so copiously do these over- weening reflections arise in our depraved minds. God is an everlasting King. Have we not too often resisted his authority ? Have we not, as far as in us lay, deposed the om- nipotent Sovereign, and exalted self into the throne ? made self-will our law, and self- pleasing our end ? thus adding sacrilege to rebellion ? God is transcendently gracious and amia- ble. Have we not turned our backs upon him, by forgetting his mercies ? Nay, have we not spumed him from our aflFections, by being " lovers of pleasm-e, more than lovers of God ?" 2 Tim, iii. 4. Awake, con- science ! bear thy impartial testimony ; and I am persuaded, the Pharisee in our breasts, like the man unfurnished with the wedding garment, must be struck dumb; must be covered vnih confusion. Is our hearts warm with brotherly love ? Good manners will put expressions of civility into our mouths ; but has a power from on high implanted thp royal law of charity in our breasts ? The character of a gentleman requires a deportment accessible, obliging, and courteous ; has the spirit of Cluristiani- ty taught us to love, " not in word," or plausible appearance only, " but in deed and in truth ?" 1 John iii. 18. Do we love our neighbours, not merely on account of some relation they bear us, or some services they have done us ; but because they are crea- tures of the blessed God, are the objects ot liis providential (;are, and capable, at least, of being conformed to his image ? Do we love them, because we hope that the Lord Jesus Christ has bought them with his blood ; is willing to make them partakers of his Spirit, and members of his mystical body? Are we sincerely concerned for their pre- sent welfare and their eternal happiness ? Do we embrace all opportunities of promot- ing both the one and the other? embrace them with the same alacrity ; and improve them with the same zeal, which actuate us in seeking our own felicity ? If they exceed us in aU that is amiable, and all that is pros- perous, do we contemplate their superior excellence with a real complacency, and their more abundant success with a real satisfac- tion? Do we dislike to hear, and abhor to spread, defamatory tales ; even when our ad- versaries are the men \\hom they tend to black- en ? When nidely affronted, or causelessly abused, do we pity the offenders, for the wrong done to their own souls, rather than kindle into resentment at the indignity of- fered to ourselves ? When greatly injured, are we slow to anger, and not easily pro- voked ? Are we much more willing to be reconciled than to foment displeasure, and prosecute revenge ? In a word, do we " love our enemies ; bless them that curse us ; do good to them that hate us ; and pray for them that despitefuUy use us and persecute us ?" Matt. v. 44. Without this loving and lovely disposition, we abide, says the apostle, in death, 1 John iii. 14, are destitute of spiritual, and have no title to eternal life.* Let me add — are all our graces, and all our works " clothed with humility ?" This should be the dress in which they severally appear, as well as the bond of connexion which unites them all. Do we maintain a very low opinion of our own accomplish- ments, and " in honoiu: prefer others to ourselves ?" Rom. xii. 10 ; habitually sen- sible that we are less than the least of the divine mercies, and the very chiefest of sin- ners? I might easily have branched out the preceding subjects into a much greater va- ♦ What manner of love is this ? How disinterest- ed! how extensive ! how triumphant ! Must not all the boasted benevolence of the philosopher and the moralist strike sail to this evangelical charity ? Must not both moralist and philosopher acknowlcdi,e the necessity of a divine operation, thus to enlarge, exalt, and refine their social affections ? LETTER II. 325 riety of interrogatory articles. But I in- tend only to present you with a specimen. Your own meditations will enlarge the sketch, and supply what is defective. Only let me beg of you, my dear friend, to try your state by this touchstone ; to prove your conduct by this standard. And may the Father of lights give you an under- standing to discern the exact purity and sublime perfection of his holy law ! Have j'ou lived in the unintennipted ob- ser\'ance of all these duties ; avoiding what- ever is forbidden, and obeying whatever is commanded? Your outward beha\'iour, I know, has been free from notorious viola- tions ; but has your inward temper been preserved from all ungodly motions, and from every irregular desire ? Is there no enmity in your heart to any of the precepts, nor any backwardness, nor any failure in performing each and every injunction ? When you put these questions to your- self, remember, that if you fail in one point, or in any degree, you are guilty of all, James ii. 10- If your conformity be not persevering as well as perfect, you incur the penalty, and are abandoned to the curse. Gal. iii. 10. You stand charged, be- fore the Judge of the world, with all the guilt of all your sins, both original and ac- tual ; and there is not one circumstance, nor one aggravation, of any of yoiu- iniqui- ties, overlooked or forgotten — unless, re- nouncing all your personal performances, you place your whole affiance on a Sa^dour's atonement, and a Sa^^ou^'s righteousness. I think you will not das? to put the issue of your everlasting state upon the former footing, which is not only hazardous, but must be inevitably ruinous. You will in- finitely rather choose to acknowledge yoiu-- self a poor insolvent, and plead the un- searchable riches of your Redeemer's obe- dience. To those who believe, the law, though strict, is not terrible ; because, be its pre- cepts of holiness ever so extensive, they have been most completely fulfilled by their glorious Surety. Be its penal sanctions ever so rigorous, they have been satisfied to the utmost by their great INIediator. Believers, therefore, may make their boast of their adorable Sponsor ; they " may sit under his shadow with great delight," Cant, ii. 3 ; while the thunderings of Mount Sinai, and all the terrors of the legal dis- pensation, tend only to increase and quick- en the refreshing sense of their safety. Just as the possessor of a plentiful estate, in some peaceful and prosperous countrj', reposes himself under the shade of his vine, or the shelter of his fig-tree ; and hearing of Ijet me dose with the affectionate and emphatical wish of an inspired epistolary writer — " That the Lord of peace may give," my dear Theron, " peace — always by all means!" 2 Thess. iiL 16. Then I shall think my wishes are accomplishing, and this blessing is at the door, when he sees the purity of the divine law — sees the depravity of his own nature — and the im- possibility of being justified without an in- terest in the great Mediator's righteous- ness ; that righteousness which, as it is the only hope and the constant joy, is there- fore the darling theme, of Your ever faithful ASPASIO, P. S. Shall I abridge the preceding let- ter, and contract the whole into those two great commandments which made the first awakening impressions on my own mind ? " Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart ; thou shalt love thy neigh- bour as thyself." Amazing ! said your Aspasio. Are these the commands of God? as obligator}' as the prohibition of adultery, or the observation of the Sab- bath ? Then has my whole life been a continual act of disobedience. Not a day, no, nor an hour, in which I have performed my duty. This conviction struck me, as the hand-writing upon the wall struck the presumptuous monarch. It pursued me, as Saul pursued the Christians, not only to my own house, but even to distant cities ; nor ever gave up the great controversy, till, under the influences of the Spirit, it brought me " vreaiy and heavy laden to Jesus Christ." LETTER IL Theron to Aspasio. Dear Aspasio, — More than three weeks are elapsed since you favoured me with your improving company, dur- ing which interval I have frequently re- collected the most material parts of our late discourses. I have carefully con- sidered both the doctrines you advanced and the answers you retiu-ned to my several objections. I have often reviewed your valuable letter, have used it as a touch- stone to examine my state, and have with great piuictuality observed your parting advice. I have sat every evening for a picture of my mind, and have endeavoured to take a true unflattering di'aught of all its distinguishing qualities. And if the diary the wars which embroil, or the plagues is a faithful mirror, if it does not aggravate which depopulate other nations, tastes, the deformity of my features, I shall be with augmented relish, his own felicity. | absolutely out of conceit with myself : I 3-26 sJiall ever entertain the meanest opinion of my own, either moral or religious qualifi- cations. ^Vhere is that intense and supreme love of God, which his transcendent perfections challenge, and his ineffable goodness claims ? Where that firm and joyful reliance on Christ Jesus in any degree proportioned to his infinite merits and inviolable promises ? Where that cordial and tender affection for my fellow- christians, which is due to the servants of a divine Redeemer ; the people whom he ransomed by his agonies, and pur- chased with his very blood ? Where is the incense of holy contemplation and refined desire ? where the flame of fervent devo- tion and ever-active zeal ; such as become the living temple of God, in which his most immaculate and glorious Spirit vouchsafes to reside ? These fundamental graces, like the grand organs in the animal system, should impart health to the soul, and spread the beauty of holiness through all the con- versation. But these, alas ! far from beating with a vigoi'ous and uniform pidse, hardly heave with life ; only just struggle, now and then, with some faint, intermitted, uneven throes. How seldom do my actions spring from gratitude to the everlasting Benefactor, or aim at the gloiy of his superexcellent ma- jesty ! In addressing the King immortal, invisible, how languid are my affections, and how wandering is my attention ! how great my unbelief, and how little my reverential awe I I receive innumerable mercies ; but i i^yav av x.a.Tii^ya.Tay.i^a iv atnornri Ka^ias' aXka i^a, rtis ^imea;, i'l jjf 'Tfavras TUf cf/f umva; « vavTox^aTU^ &'.o; i'Sixuiairiv. 1 Epist.adCwinth- — This quotation is explained, as well as translated. But that every reader may distinguish the text from the paraphrase, tlie first is printed within inverted commas. LETTER IV. SSI sins, 1)iit the righteousness of Jesus Christ ? By what possible means could we, unright- eous and unholy creatures, be justified, but only by the interposition of the Son of God in our behalf?" — Having in this clause made a profession of his faith, the good man, on the contemplation of such a privi- lege, breaks out into a kind of holy trans- port ! " O sweet and delightful exchange ! a dispensation unsearchably wise and gra- cious ! benefits quite unexpected, and .rich beyond all our hopes ! that the sin of many should be hid by one righteous person, and that the righteousness of one should justify many transgressors." The following words are remarkably strong, and the [sentiments peculiarly bold. But they come from the pen of the finest writer in ecclesiastical antiquity. They have the great name and venerable character of St Chrysostom for their recommendatory preface. * " Fear not, says he, on ac- count of any of thy past transgressions of the law, when once thou hast fled by faith to Jesus Christ. The most enormous and the most destructive violation of the law is, to be withheld, by the consciousness of any guilt whatever, from believing on Christ. When thou actest faith on him, thou hast fulfilled, I might say more than fulfilled the law : For thou hast received a better right- eousness than it could ever require ; thou art possessed of a better obedience than any creature could possibly pay." Two or three witnesses of distinguish- ed ability, and undoubted veracity, are a sufficient confirmation of any cause. For this reason, and to avoid a tiresome pro- lixity, I have set aside a multitude of voices, which, fruim the writings of our own and foreign divines, are ready to pour their united evidence ; and lest the business of quotation, though sparingly managed, should seem diy and tedious, I will relieve your weariness, and enliven the collection, by an extract from the prince of English poetry. Michael, the prophetic archangel, mentioning the destructive consequences of the fall, and asserting the Godhead of that glorious Person who undertook to be the repairer of this deadly breach, adds, evvxrov ts; ava/ins n/i''S k''i aTi^m, » tv rto vim rn 0£s;aTH2,rAATKRIA2 KATAA- AAFHS, 4> T»; av£|';^v'ao'T» 5>j^iS?^j//a; m ran wr^OiioxriTaiv at iva; ToXXas avofins ^txai-- ff'/i> Epist. ad Diogn. Though Du Pin questions the au- thority of this epistle, he allows it to have been writ- ten by an ancient hand. Dr. Cave, as capable a judge, thinks there is no reason to doubt but it is the ge- nuine work of Justin. fri aav Tti viirrii TT^offiX^tl;' rort ya^aur'ov -jra^a- ay viimvirns ctvrcu, kockiivov iWXrtguav.s Kai sroX- Xu TTXtov n iKiXiViTi' •proXXui ya^ fHiZ^ova iiKxia- cmnv iXaiiS' HomiU xvii. in x. ad Rum. Which he, who comes thy Saviour, shall secure. Not by destroying Satan, but his works. In thee and in thy seed. Nor can this be, But by fulfilling (that which thou didst want) Obedience to the law of God, imposed On penalty of death ; and suffering death, The penalty to thy transgression due ; And due to theirs, which out of thine will grow. So only can high justice restappaid. Milton, book 12, 1. 393. Here then is the express determination of our Homilies, supported by the authority ofour Articles, established by the concur- rence of our Liturgy, still farther ratified by the imanimous attestation of several cele- brated divines, whose lives were the bright- est ornament to our church, and whose writ- ings are the most unexceptionable interpre- tation of her meaning. As a capital to crown and complete this grand column, su- pervenes the declaration of the ancient fa- thers, those who flourished, and with the highest renown, in the first and purest ages of Christianity. So that, if great authori- ties carry any weight, if illustrious names challenge any regard, this tenet comes at- tended and dignified with very considerable credentials. Yet 1 will venture to affirm, that all these, considerable as they appear, are the least of those testimonials which recommend the doctrine to my Theron's acceptance, and which have gained it admittance into the heart of, His most affectionate ASPASIO. LETTER IV. AsPASio TO Therok. Dear Theron, — The family in which I have the satisfaction to reside, though re- markable for their genteel figure and ample fortune, are stUl more amiably distinguished by their benevolence, hospitality, and cha- rity. As they live at a distance from the market town, the lady has converted one apartment of her house into a little dispen- satory, and stocked it with some of the most common, the most needed, and most sa- lutary medicines, which, in cases of ordinary indisposition, she distributes to her indigent neighbours with singular compassion, and with no small success. This fine morning, Emilia has ordered some skilful hands into the fields, to cull their healing simples, and lay up a magazine of health for the afllicted poor. Camillus is withdrawn to receive his rents, and settle accounts with his te- nants. Suppose we act in concert with these va- luable persons. Suppose we range the de- lightful fields of scripture, and form a col- lection, not of salutiierous herbs, but of in- 332 THERON AND ASPASIO- estimable texts ; «uch as may be of sovereign efficacy to assuage the angiiish of a guilty conscience, and impart saving health to the distempered soul. Suppose we open the mines of divine inspiration, and enrich our- selves, not with the gold of Ophir, but with the unsearchable treasures of Christ ; or with that perfect righteousness of our Re- deemer, which is incomparably more preci- ous than the revenues of a county, or the produce of Peru. In pleading for imputed righteousness, we have already urged the authority of our established church, and the suffrage of her most eminent divines. The opinion of ex- cellent writers, which has been the result of much learning, great attention, and ear- nest prayer, is no contemptible evidence. Yet we must always reserve the casting voice for those infallible umpires the pro- phets and apostles. " If we receive," with a differential regard, " the witness of men ; the witness of God is greater, 1 John y. 9, and challenges the most implicit submission ; which remark naturally leads me to the in- tended subject of this epistle, or rather calls upon me to fulfil my late engagement, and show that the above-mentioned doctrine is copiously revealed through the whole pro- cess of the Scriptures. Let me detach a veiy significant portion from the epistle to the Romans ; which, though little inferior to a decisive proof, is produced only as an introduction to others ; " Now the righteousness of God without the law, is manifested, being witnessed by the law and the prophets ; even the righte- ousness of God, which is by faith of Jesus Christ unto all, and upon all them that believe," Rom. iii. 21, 22. _ The righte- ousness of God signifies that righteousness which the incarnate God wrought out in his own all-glorious person.* It is styled the righteousness of God by way of super- lative pre-eminence, in opposition to any righteousness of our ovni, and in contra- distinction to the righteousness of all crea- tures whatever. This righteousness is without the law. Its efficacy has no de- pendence on, its merit receives no addition from any conformity of our practice to the • This explication, or something to the same pur- pose has occurred already. But it is hoped, that the candid reader will not condemn the repetition, as a disagreeable and jejune tautology. — Because it is so consonant to the practice of our great apostle, who re- peats the term, reinculcates the doctrine, and hardly knows how to desist from the favourite topic, like one who was quite enamoured with the subject, who found music in the words, and whose happiness was bound up in the blessing. Because it is conformable to another and a greater example. The Lord Jeho- vah himself, within the compass of one chapter, once and again, yea, a third and a fourth time, styles this wonderful obedience, my righteousness. As though the God of infinite perfection glorified in it, thought himself most eminently magnified by it, and was jea- lous to have all the honour resulting from it. See Isaiah ii. divine law ; being complete, absolutely com- plete in itself, and altogether sufficient to procure the reconciliation and acceptance of sinners. This righteousness is " witnessed by the law and the prophets ;" receives an uniform attestation from the various writ- ings of the Old Testament. To invest! • gate which attestation, to examine its per- tinency, and weigh its sufficiency, is our pre- sent pleasing business. We may begin with that gracious declar- ation made to the first trangressors ; " The seed of the woman shall bruise the ser- pent's head," Gen. iii. 15, shall destroy the works of the devil, and retrieve whatever was lost by his malicious artifices." How could this be effected, but by restoring that righteousness which for a while our first parents possessed : which they ought al- ways to have held fast ; but from which they so soon and so unhappily swerved. Take the position in the right sense, and Christianity is, if not entirely, yet very near- ly as old as the creation. It was compre- hended in this blessed promise, as the sta- mina of the largest plants are contained in the substance of their respective seeds : every subsequent revelation being no more than a gradual evolution of this grand evan- gelical principle ; acting like the vegetative powers of natiu-e, which in rearing an oak, with all its spread of branches, only expand the tunicles, and fill up the vessels of the acorn. This doctrine seems to have been typical- ly taught by the remarkable manner of clothing our first parents. All they could do for their own recovery was like the patch- ed and beggarly mantle of fig-leaves : This they relinquish, and God himself furnishes them with apparel. Gen. iii. 21. Animals are slain, not for food but sacrifice ; and the naked criminals are arrayed A\'ith the skins of those slaughtered beasts. The vic- tims figured the expiation of Christ's death, the clothing typified the imputation of his righteousness. In perfect conformity, per- haps with a reference to the passage thus interpreted, the apostle just now expressed himself: " Even the righteousness of God, which is not only made over to all believers, as a rich portion, but put upon all as a beau- tiful garment," Rom. iii. 22,f whereby alone their moral deformity can be covered, and their everlasting confusion prevented. Mil- ton, it is certain, speaking of this memora- ble transaction, considers it in the same spi- ritual sense : — * In some such sense, I think, our first parents must understand the promise. Otherwise it could yield them no effectual relief, under the distressingsenseof their own misery, and the dismal apprehension of their posterity's ruin. -|- EI2?ravT«j EIII iTavrai- tUs •^iirrivovras. LETTER IV. .33n Nor he their outwanl only with the skins Of beasts, but inward nakedness, (much more Opprobrious !) with his robe of righteousness Arraying, covered from his father's sight. " In thy seed," says the great Jehovah to his servajit Abraham, " shall all the nations of the earth be blessed," Gen. xxii. 18. That the seed here mentioned is Christ, the apostle places beyond all doubt.* Both scripture and reason declare that true blessedness must necessarily include the pardon of sins and the favour of God, the sanctitication of our souls, and tlie inheritance of life eternal. None of which are to be acquired by any hu- man performances, but all are to be sought, and all may be found in the root and off- spring of Abraham, Jesus Christ ; who is therefore most pertinently styled, " The de- sire of all nations," Hag. ii. 7, the actual desire of every enlightened nation, and the implicit desire of all nations whatever; be- cause all, without any exception, covet what is to be derived only from Jesus Christ the righteous, real happiness. The patriarchal age, and the legal econo- my, bore their testimony to this truth, by typical persons, emblematical miracles, and figurative usages. Indeed, the whole cere- monial serxdce was a grand series of t}'pes, representing Christ and his everlasting right- eousness. In all which this was the unani- mous though silent language ; " Behold the Lamb of God, that taketh away the sin of the world." These I shall not stay to dis- cuss, because proofs of a more explicit and positive nature wait for our consideration ; only I would just make a transient observa- tion, relating to one very remarkable consti- tution in the Jewish ritual. — The high-priest had on the front of his mitre a plate of pure gold, engraven with that venerable motto, " Holiness to the Lord," Exod. xxviii. 36, 37, which was always to be on his forehead when he performed the solemn ministrations of the sanctuary; and for this important reason, that the people " might be accepted before the Lord." Exod. xxviii, 38. Did not this most clearly foreshow the immacu- late holiness of our great High Priest ? and wth equal clearness imply, that his holiness should prociu'e acceptance for aU his fol- lowers. In the book of Job we have several hints of this truth, and one passage very express to our purpose. Elihu describes an imcon- verted person under the chastising hand of Providence, " whose life," through the ex- tremity of his disease, " drew near to the ] grave ; and his soul," through the multitude of his iniquities, was ready to become a prey "to the destroyers.'' In this deplorable condition, " if there be present with him the Messenger* of the covenant of peace, that great Interpreter* of the divine coun- cils," who for his superexcellent wisdom is justly deemed " one among a thousand," or rather " the chiefest among ten thousand ;" if he, by his enlightening Spirit, vouchsafe to show unto the afflicted man his own per- fect righteousness, that most meritorious uprightness on which alone a sinner may depend, both for temporal and eternal sal- vation ; then the poor distressed creature, attentive to this instruction, and applying this righteousness, is made partaker of par- don. God, the sovereign Lord of life and death, is gracious unto him, and saith, in the greatness of his strength, as w^ell as iu the multitude of liis mercies, " deliver him from going down into the pit" of corruption, as a pledge of his deliverance from the pit of perdition ; for " I have found a ransom" sufficient to satisfy my justice : I have re- ceived an atonement in behalf of this once obnoxious, now reconciled transgressor. But why do I select one particular para- graph ? It seems to be the main design of the whole book to overthrow all pretensions of any justifying righteousness in man, that the wretched sinner, nay, that the greatest saint, stiipt of every personal plea, may rely oidy on the merits of a Redeemer. This is the final issue of all those warm debates which pass between the afflicted hero and his censorious friends. This is the grand result of Elihu's calm reasoning, and of God Almighty's awfid interrogatories. The apparent centre this, (see Job xlii. 6,) in which all the lines terminate ; justly there- fore to be considered as the principal scope of the whole work. I must not omit an excellent observation, which I find in some critical and explanato- ry notesf on the last words of David. The judicious author, proving that this song re- lates to Christ ; that it displays the dignity of our Redeemer, under the character of the " the King," and " the Just One," adds, as an explication of the last amiable and glorious title — " Our Lord Jesus Christ is so called, not so much for having fulfilled all righte- ousness in his own person, and performed » See Job xxxili. 22, &c.— Christ is called "JKbD the angel of the divine presence, Isa. Ixiii. 9. The messenger of the covenant, Mai. iii. 1. He is also, in the most unlimited sense of the phrase, I?llO the in- terpreter of the divine councils ; he to whom the Fa- ther hath given the tongueoftheleamed, and by whom he makes known the otherwise unsearchable myste- » Coo c^ D„..i. „ «. .t- . , ries of the gospel.— Should any doubt remain concern- ir.isP r»l ii; Q ^ comment upon this invaluable pro- ing the propriety of applying this passage to our Lord wif ii.MoH K /.,*' c ^*?i' commentator, weall allow, Jelus Christ, the reader, I hope, will give himself the Trr^^ nft. I P'".'' *'"^/°^^' 'he mind of God. pleasure of perusing the polite Witsius, (Econ. lib. 4. wXthPdn?tHn»^?°''H°« °r'''\'^^'''V'P''!^''"'iC''3P- i"-xxxi. and Dr. Grey's valuable notes upon Sns an ,tr?H^o^f justification by faith, and con- the place, in his Liber Jobi. ^ tains an abridgment of the gospeL t Uy Dr. Grey. See 2 Sam. xxiii. I. &c. 334 THERON AND ASPASIO. an iinsinning obedience to the will of God, as because, by his righteousness imputed to us, we also, upon the terms* of the gospel, are justified, or accounted righteous before God." I think we may evidently discern the same vein of evangelical doctrine limning through many of the psalms. " He shall convert my soul,"f Psal xxiii. 3, turn me not only from sin and ignorance, but from every false confidence, and every deceitful refuge. " He shall bring me forth in paths of righteous- ness," in those paths of imputed righteousness which are always adorned with the trees of holiness ; are always watered with the foun- tains of consolation: and always terminate[in everlasting rest. Some, perhaps, may ask. Why I give this sense to the passage ? Why may it not signify the paths of duty ; and the way of our own obedience ? Because such effects are here mentioned as never have resulted, and never can result from any duties of our own. These are not " green pastures,*' but a parched and blasted heath. These are not " still waters," but a troubled and disorderly}: stream. Neither can these speak peace or administer comfort when we pass through the valley and shadow of death. To yield these blessings is the exalted office of Christ, and the sole prerogative of his obedience. Admitting that this obedience is of so- vereign advantage during the years of life, and in the hour of death, it may still occur to the serious and inquisitive mind what will be our safeguard after the great change? When the soul departs, and our place on • That is, freely; or, as the prophet speaks, "with- out money and without price." For nothing is re- quisite in order to a participation of Christ and his benefits, but a conviction of our extreme need, and an unfeigned desire to receive them ; receive them as gifts of pure grace, vouchsafed to the most undeserving crea- tures. This point, which is so intimately connected with our comfort and hope, the reader may see more fully stated in Dialogue XV. t I am sensible the word D^lti^'' mav signify to refresh or restore ; may answer to the G'reek phrase ani^v^t, and denote the comforts of the Holy Ghost. This verb may also bear the same signification with the participle iTiirr^i^ai, in our Lord's exhortation to Peter, ?('/ic?i thou art converted. Not describing the first grand revolution in the heart, by which a new determination is given to the judgment, and a new bias to the affections: but expressing those subsequent operations of the Divine Spirit, by which we are re- covered from our various relapses, and healed of our daily infirmities. And I question whether there is any instance in which we more frequently need these re- storing aids, than in the case of adhering to our Re- deemer's righteousness. .So prone areweto forget our Testing place ! so liable to fall from our steadfastness in Christ. X Blasted, disorderly. — Let not these words grate on the ear, or, if they grate on the ear, let them humble the heart. What were Job's duties? Zealous and ex- emplary; practised from his very youth, and neither equalled nor excelled by any person on earth. Yet these, in point of justification, were not a whit better than Aspasio represents. Let us hear the last words of this matchless saint, "I abhor myself, and repent in dust and ashes." From this confession we learn, that, with all his furniture of personal obedience, he had just cnovgh to be ashamed, confounded, undone. earth knows us no more ; when the bocfj" revives, and we shall all stand before the judgment-seat, what will then avail us ? The same righteousness of our divine Lord. This, if I mistake not, is displayed in the very next psalm, vi'hich begins with a solici- tous inquiry ; subjoins a satisfactory answer, and closes with a most pertinent biit rap- turous apostrophe. This is the inquirj*, " Who shall ascend into the hill of the Lord ! or who shall rise up in his holy place ?" This is the answer : " Even he that hath clean hands and a pure heart.* He shall receive the blessing" of plenary remission " from the Lord, and righteousness also from the God of his salvation ;" even that perfect righteousness, which is not acquired by man, but bestowed by Jehovah ; which is not per- formed by the saint, but received by the sin- ner ; which is the only solid basis, to sup- port our hopes of happiness ; the oidy valid plea for an admission into the mansions of joy. Then follows the apostrophe : The prophet foresees the ascension of Christ and his saints into the kingdom of heaven. He sees his Lord marching at the head of the Redeemed world, and conducting them into regions of honour and joy. Suitably to such a view, and in a most beautiful strain of poetry, he addresses himself to the heavenly portals : " Lift up your heads, O ye gates, and be ye lift up, ye everlasting dooi s ; and the King of glory," with all the heirs of his grace and righteousness, shall make their triumphant entry ; " shall enter in," and go out no more. Having shown the powerful and extensive influence of our Redeemer's righteousness — its efficacy in this world to justify, in the other world to glorify — well may the sweer singer of Israel profess his supreme value for it, and entire dependence on it. " I will go forth in the strength of the Lord God, and will make mention of thy righteousness only.""!- As though he had said, I will have recourse to no other righteousness for the consolation of my soul. I will plead no other righteousness for the recommendation of my person. J will fly to no other right- eousness for my final acceptance. and endless felicity. This is that " raiment of needle- work and clothing of wrought gold," Psalm xlv. 1 3, in which the King's daughter is in- troduced to Him " who sitteth in the hea- vens over all." This is that " garment for glory and for beauty," which clothed our great High Priest, and descending to his very * Psal. xxiv. 4. " Who hath clean hands and a pure heart ?" he only whose heart is sprinkled from an evil conscience, by the precious blood of Christ; and who livesby faith in the Son of God. Heb. x. 22. Gal.ii. 20. t Psalm Ixxi. 16. There is, in the Hebrew original and in the new translation, a very emphatical repeti- tion ; which adds weight to the sentiment, and de mands a peculiar attention from the reader : " Th/ righteousness, even thine only." LETTER IV. 38* 13, clothes and adorns the redeemed; redeemed, " not With corrupti- feet. Rev lowest members of his mystical body Recollecting all the foregoing particulars, justly, and on the most rational ground, does our royal author declare, " Blessed are the people that know the joyful sound : they shall walk, O Lord, in the light of thy countenance. In thy name shall they re- joice all the day ; and in thy righteousness shall they be exalted." Psalm Ixxxix. 15, 16. They are truly blessed, they alone are happy, who " know the joyful sound" of the gospel ; not only receive it with their ears, but admit it into their very hearts, so as to partake of the sacred peace and spiri- tual liberty which it proclaims. " They shall walk in the light of thy countenance ;" they shall enjoy such communications of thy grace, and such manifestations of thy love, as will constitute the serenity and sunshine of their souls. In thy name, O Lord Je- sus Christ, in thy glorious person, and thy infinite merit, " shall they rejoice :" and not occasionally, but habitually; not barely at some distinguished intervals, but " all the day." Their joy shall be as lasting as it is substantial. " And in thy righteousness shall they be exalted," set above the tantaliz- ing power of temporal things ; placed beyond the slavish fear of the last enemy ; and raised, when time shall be no more, to a state of celestial glory and consummate bliss. How thoroughly evangelical is this sera- phic writer! He has joy, he has blessed- ness, and he looks for everlasting exalta- tion ; yet not from his faith, his repentance, and his own sincere obedience. According to this, which is the modern scheme, faith, instead of receiving, would supplant the Lord Jesus ; repentance, instead of being the gift of Christ, would become his rival ; and sincere obedience, which is for the praise and glory of God, would eclipse and impo- verish his grace. But David adopts no such sentiments ; David maintains no such doctrine. This is the invariable language of his heart : " All my springs of hope, of trust, and consolation, O thou adored Ema- nuel ! are in thee." Psalm Ixxxvii. 7. This sense is the less precarious, I had almost said the more certain, as it exactly corresponds with the analogy of faith, and coincides with the express declarations of other scriptures. Isaiah is styled the evan- gelist of the Jewish church ; because more frequently than any of the prophets he ce- lebrates, and more copiously explains, this and other peculiarities of the gospel. In the very first chapter, he preaches these glad tidings : " Zion shall be redeemed with judgment, and her converts with righteous- ness." Zion, the gospel church, composed of fallen creatures, sometime disobedient to their God, and enslayed to Satan, shall be ble things, as silver and gold," but by severe judgments executed on their glorious Head, and gracious Representative; and not by these only, but by righteousness also, by the perfect and most meritorious righteousness of the same divinely-excellent Person. Our sacred author bears his testimony with warmer zeal and brighter evidence as he proceeds in his incomparable discourses. " Snrely shall one say," (or, as it may be rendered, oiilt/j " in the Lord have I right- eousness and strength." Isaiah xlv. 24. Please to observe, Theron, it is not said, in my own works, in my own repentance, no, nor in my own faith, " but in the Lord Jesus have I righteousness ;" righteousness for justification, and strength for sanctifica- tion ; an imputed righteousness, to procure my acceptance ; an imparted strength, to produce my holiness : the first constituting my title to the everlasting inheritance, the last forming my personal preparation for its enjoyment. " Surely," which expresses a firm persuasion, and an unshaken affiance. " Only," which denotes an utter renuncia- tion of all other confidence, and excludes every other ground of hope. " Righteous- nesses,"* the original is in the plural number; which seems to be used, not without ati im- portant design, to enlarge the significancy of the word, and make it correspond with the richness of the blessing ; so that it may imply the fulness and the supereminent ex-. cellency of this gift of grace ; as compre- hending whatever, either of suffering or obe- dience, is requisite to the justification of sinners. Insomuch that, in the Lord Jesus Christ, and his all-perfect righteousness, the seed of Israel shall not only be justified, but rejoice ; and not only confide, but glory, Isa. xlv. 25. What he had just nowasserted, he exem- plifies in his own, and in the person of every true believer. " I will greatly rejoice in the Lord, my soul shall be joyful in my God ; for he hath clothed me with the garments of salvation, he hath covered me with the robe of righteousness, Isa. Ixi. 10. True be- lievers are compared, in one of our sacred eclogues, to " a company of horses in Pha- roah's chariot ;" Cant. i. 9 ; to horses, than which no animal is more stately and grace- ful ; to Egyptian horses, which were the best and completest then in the world ; to those in Pharaoh's chariot, which doubt- less were a choice set, selected from thou- sands, and finest where all were fine. Here, methinks, I see the comparison realized. Christians, endued with such a spirit as * rnpl5i parallel to which, both in construc- tion and signification, is the phrase used by St. John /^ixatufia-TO., Rev. xix. 8. " The fine linen is the righteousness (properly, the righteousnesses) of tha saints." 336 THERON AND ASPASIO. breathes in this animated text, are like a collection of those gallant and majestic steeds — not destined to low drudgery, but appointed to run in the royal chariot ; all life, full of fire, champing the bit, and eager for the chase- Nothing can more beauti- fully describe a state of exultation and ar- dour, than the preceding similitude, or the following words : " I will rejoice ; I will greatly rejoice ; my very soul, and all that is within me, shall be joyful in my God." Wherefore ? Because he hath clothed me, undone sinner as I am, with the garments of salvation ; because he hath covered me, defective as all my services are, with the robe of righteousness ; a robe, which hides every sin that, in thought, word, or deed, I have committed ; a robe, which screens from the sword of justice, the curse of the law, and all the vengeance my iniquities have deserved ; a robe, which adorns and dignifies my soul, renders it fairer than the moon, clear as the sun, and meet for the in- heritance of saints in light- Having represented this righteousness, in a variety of grand and charming views, the prophet farther characterises it, as the un- alterable and never-failing origin of our jus- tification and happiness. This he displays by a train of images, bold and sublime to the last degree. " Lift up your eyes to the heavens, and look upon the earth beneath ; for the heavens shall vanish away like smoke, and the earth shall wax old like a garment ; but my salvation shall be for ever, and my righteousness shall not be aboHshed." Isa. li. 6. Observe the vast dimensions, and the firm foundations, both of the upper and the lower world, how strong, how steadfast they all appear ! Yet these, indissoluble as they may seem, shall perish. This majestic globe, on which mountains rise, and oceans roll, shall lose its beautiful gloss ; and be laid aside, like a decayed useless garment. Even that more majestic concave, in which stars are fixed, and planets revolve, shall be deprived of its very superior lustre ; and va- nish away like the dissolving smoke- Whereas, " my salvation," with ail the spi- ritual and heavenly blessings included in it, shall subsist and flourish for ever : " And my righteousness," which is the meritorious cause of all, shall be an immoveable founda- tion for repose and happiness. In short, whether there be moral virtues, they shall be found wanting ; whether there be Chris- tian graces, they shall prove ineffectual ; but my conformity to the law, and my obe- dience unto death, neither need addition, nor admit of change : they are all-sufficient in their merit, and in their virtue everlasting. When day arises on our benighted he- misphere, it breaks and spreads by a gra- dual increase — forming, first the grey twi- light, next the blushing morn, then the shining light, till all is heightened into the blaze and glow of noon. When spring revisits our wintry clime, she also ad- vancce by gentle degrees ; first swells the bud and protrudes the gem, then expands the leaf, and unfolds the blossom : the face of things is continually changing for the bet- ter, and nature shows herself, almost every hour, in some new and more engaging dress- This leisurely process renders the strong ef- fulgence of the celestial orb more supporta- ble, and the lovely expansions of the vegeta- ble creation more observable. So progressive and increasing are the dis- plays of Jesus Christ exhibited in the Scrip- tures, whose appearance is unspeakably more delightful to the soul than the emanations of orient light are to the eye, or the entertain- ments of the vernal season to our other senses. The gloom of fallen Adam was alleviated by a ray from this Sun of Righte- ousness- Abraham and the patriarchs saw afar off the blessed Jesus, " as the morning spread upon the mountains, Joel ii. 2. The psalmist and the prophets beheld his nearer approaches, like the sun upon the point of rising. To the apostles and evangelists, he arose in perfect lustre and complete beauty. The grace and the privileges which dawned under other dispensations of religion, are brought even to meridian light by the gospel. This I mention, just to intimate what you may expect from a following letter. In the mean time, let us attend to the prophet Daniel. He records a message from heaven, which is more clearly descrip- tive of this great evangelical blessing than all the foregoing texts. He had been under much distress, and in great perplexity ; af- flicted for his own and his countrymen's sins ; an.xious for the welfare of the chosen nation, and the prosperity of true religion ; when an angel was despatched to the holy mourner with this most cheering news, which, received by faith, is the richest balm to a wounded conscience, and the only remedy for a guilty world : " Seventy weeks are de- termined upon thy people, and upon thy holy city ; to finish the transgression, and make an end of sin ; to make reconciliation for iniquity, and to bring in everlasting righ- teousness-" Dan. ix. 21, This prophecy relates to the Messiah. It foretells that, in the fulness of time, he should " finish the transgression ;" restrain and suppress the power of corruption, by purifying to himself a peculiar people ; — should " make an end of sin ;" by sealing up or secreting its guilt, and totally abolishing its condemning power; — should " make reconciliation for iniquity," by sustaining the vengeance due to sinners, and fully satisfying the divine justice for all their offences ; — should not barely publish, LETTER IV. 337 but accomplish and •• bring in righteous. ress ;"* that it may be presented both to God and man : to God, for the reparation of his violated law ; to man, for the justifi- cation of his obnoxious person : — That this righteousness should be everlasting; not such as may be compared to the morning- cloud, which passeth away ; or to the early dew, which is soon dried up ; but such as will outlast the hills, on which the latter shines ; and outlast the skies through which the former sails : A righteousness, whose merits extend to every period, and every ac- tion of our lives ; and when once made ours by imputation, remains, and will remain our unalienable property. To this all the saints, who in ancient generations pleased God, owe their acceptance ; on this, all the chil- dren of men who in future ages hope for his mercy, must rely ; by this the whole assem- bly of the blessed will be invariably and eternally precious in his sight. Exalted character ! Can it be applicable to any thing Jess than the righteousness of the incarnate God ? Surely none can imagine that Da- niel would speak in such a magnificent strain of any human righteousness, since, in this very chapter, he professedly depreciates him- self, his fellow-saints, and all human per- formances whatever. I forgot, in the proper place, to consult the prophet Jeremiah. Let us now refer ourselves to his determination. Celebrating the Saviour of Judah and Israel, he says, " This is his name, whereby he shall be called, The Lord our Righteousness ;" a determination so clear and satisfactory, as not to leave, one would almost conclude, any room for appeal. Should the sense of the passage be questioned, I think there cannot be a more authentic explication, than the preceding extracts from Isaiah and Daniel. And having the unanimous at- testation of two inspired penmen, we may venture to abide by such authority, even in opposition to some respectable names. In the verse immediately foregoing, the essen- tial holiness of the Redeemer is displayed, under the character of the righteous branch. The sanctity which he will impart to his subjects, is intimated by his "executing judgment and justice in the earth." In the clause we have quoted, his imputed righte- ousness is foretold and promised. Thus the several sentences are distinct ; the descrip- tion of the Saviour is complete ; and he ap- pears perfectly suited to the exigencies of a wretched world ; in their worst estate " K^3n^, I think, must signify more than to publish or preach. Had this been all that the angel was com- missioned to declare, Itr i^, or 115^, would probably have been used. The word implies such a bringing in, (the original is the same) as when Abel brought his sacrifice to the altar for the divine acceptance, and Esau brought his venison into the chamber, for his father's use. Gen. iv. 4, jucvii. 31. enslaved to Satan, and in their best falling short of the glory of God. This, therefore, I take to be the grand and extensive mean- ing of the prophet : the righteous Lord ; not barely, the Lord who infuses righte- ousness into sinful souls ; but the incar- nate Jehovah,* Jer. xxiii. 5, 6, whose mediatorial righteousness is, by an act of gracious imputation, ours, to all the intents of justification and salvation ; ours, as much ours, for these blessed purposes, as if we had wrought it out each in his own person. Foreseeing and contemplating these bless- ings, the enraptured Zechariah cries out, ", Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion; shout, O daughter of Jerusalem : behold, thy King cometh unto thee ; he is just and hav- ing salvation, lowly and riding upon an ass, and upon a colt, the foal of an ass," Zech. ix. 9. He addresses himself to Zior and Je- rusalem, to the ecclesiastical and civil com- munity. Persons of all ranks, and of every character, are exhorted to " rejoice ;" to re- joice "greatly;" nay, to express the joy of their heart, by loud hallelujahs, and tri- umphant exclamations. What is the cause of this general delight? what can fill both church and state with such high satisfac- tion ? " Thy King cometh unto thee ;" even that glorious King who rules in heaven, and rules in the heart ; whose service is free- dom, and whose laws are love. " He is just," divinely righteous in his nature, and he cometh to fulfil all righteousness in thy stead. " Having salvation ;" hereby pro- curing salvation for his people ; deliverance from sin, from death and hell ; from every evil thou deservest, and from every misery thou fearest. That none may be discour- aged, and none deterred, from applying to this Prince of Peace, he is, amidst all the honours of his sovereignty, " lowly ; does not abhor the basest, will not despise the meanest ; to the poor his gospel is preached, and for the guilty his benefits are intended. As an emblem, as a proof of this most amiable and condescending goodness, " he will ride ;" not like the conquerors of old, in a triumphal chariot, or ori a richly ca- parisoned steed ; but upon the most mean and despicable of all animals, " an ass ;" nay, what is still more despicable, on a rude undisciplined " colt, the" wayward "foal ot an ass."-j- In these golden, infinitely better than golden verses, are characterised the divine and human na- tures of Christ, together with his mediatorial office. The divine nature, in that he enjoys the honours of the Godhead, and possesses the incommunicable name Jehovah. The human nature, in that he was to be raised up unto David, and spring as a branch from his root. The mediatorial office, in that he is the righteousness of his people, and the salvation of sinners. t Because profane scoffers have presumed to ri- dicule this very remarkable incident of our Lord's life, some interpreters of note have endeavoured to rescue it from their abusive attempts, by observing, ' ' 'That the eastern asses are much larger and more 338 THERON AND ASPASIO. And now, since my Theron confesses himself to be miserable, and poor and naked; since the eyes of his understanding are en- lightened to see the impurity of his heart, the imperfection of his righteousness, and that he is in himself a lost undone sinner ; what advice, cheering and salutary, shall I suggest ? O ! let him listen to an Adviser infinitely more able and compassionate ; listen to Him who is the Ancient of days, and the wisdom of God : " I counsel thee," says the blessed Jesus, " to buy of me gold tried in the fire, that thou mayest be rich : and white raiment, that thou mayest be clothed." Rev. iii. 18. Gold! what can this denote, but all those spiritual treasures which are hid in Christ ? which are in mea- sure unsearchable, in value inestimable, in duration eternal. " White raiment !" Sure- ly this must signify the righteousness of our JRedeemer, which is all purity, and all per- fection ; which clothes the soul, as a most suitable and commodious garment ; which covers every deformity and every sin ; and presents the believer, free from shame and free from blemisli, before the throne of the Alajesty in the heavens. This, to use the delicate language and amiable images of Isaiah — this doctrine, embraced by a realizing faith, is the only pillow of rest, " wherewith we may cause the weary and heavy laden soul to find re- pose ;" and this is the sovereign cordial pre- pared by infinite mercy for the refreshment of anxious and desponding transgressors. graceful than ours ; that patriarchs and judges thought It no disgrace to ride upon them This observation has, I fear, more of false delicacy, than of real truth, or Christian simplicity. In the i)atriarchal ages, I acknowledge, persons of high distinction thought it no dishonour in their journeys and processions, to Brpear on this animal. But I very much question, vmether the same fashion subsisted, or the same way of thinking prevailed, in the reign of Tiberius Ca^ar. See James iii. 3. Nay, 1 am strongly inclined to sus- pect, that this plain p'rimitivecustom was superseded, even in the days of Zechariah. For long before this time I find, that Solomon had four thousand stalls of horses for his char ots, and twelve thousand horse- men ; and that horsis were brought to him out of Egypt, and divers other countries, 1 Kings iv. 26, x. 28, 29. From this period, it is probable, none tiut the poor and inferior sort of people rode upon asses. When Isaiah jirophesicd, the land was full of horses, Isaiah Jii. 7. Under the Persian monarchy, when Zechariah flourished, horses were in still greater re- pute. Well, therefore, might the prophet say, with wonder and delight, lowly, and riding upon an ass ! Was it a mean attitude ? exceedingly me.an, mean even to contempt, I makeno scruple to grant it: nay, I make my boast of it ( It is for the honour of our Lord's condescension, it is for the utter confusion of all world- ly pomp and grandeur, and it is for the unspeakable comfort of my sinful soul. Most charming humility, most endearing gentleness! " He who rideth upon vJ»e heavens as it were upon a horse, and maketh the clouds his chariot, to atone for my pride, and to en- courage my hope, disdained not in the days of his flesh, to ride upon an ass. They who would dignify this action, any otherwise than from its ever-to-be-admired abasement, seem to have forgotten the stable and the manger. They who are oft'ended at this circumstance, and ashamed to own their Lord in his deep humiliation, have but very imperfectly learned the apostle's lesson, "God forbid that I should glory, save in the cross of Christ Jesus, my Lord." O ! let us not be in the number of those proud and refractory creatures, who, though they infinitely needed, " yet would not hear" the gracious news, Isaiah xxviii. 12, nor re- ceive the unspeakable benefit. In this re- spect, and in this most eminently, is that other saying of the sublime teacher true ; " The Lord of hosts shall be for a crown of glory, and for a diadem of beauty, to the residue of his people. Isa. xxviii. 5. Shall we tear from our temples, or reject with disdain, this unfading and heavenly orna- ment, in order to substitute a mean and tawdry chaplet of our own. Let me add a pertinent passage from one of our celebrated dramatic writers, which, if proper in his sense, will be incomparably more so, according to our manner of appli- cation : -It were contemning. With impious self-sufficient arrogance. This bounty of our God, not to accejit. With every mark of honour, such a gift. I might proceed to urge this expostulation of the poet, as I might easily have multiplied my quotations from holy writ. But, stu- dious of brevity, I leave both, without fur- ther enlargement, to your own meditation. Ytt, more studious of my friend's happiness. I cannot conclude without wishing him an interest, a clear and established interest, in this everlasting righteousness of Christ. For so, and so only, can he have " everlast- ing consolation, and good hope through grace." — I am, my dear Theron, Inviolably yours, ASPASIO. P.S. — Opposite to the room in which 1 write, is a most agreeable prospect of the gardens and the fields ; these, covered with herbage, and loaded with corn ; those, adorned with flowers and abounding with esculents ; all ajipearing with so florid and so beautiful an aspect, that they really seem, in conformity to the Psalmist's description, even to " laugh and sing." Let me just ob- serve, that all these fine scenes, all these rich productions, sprung — from what ? From the dissolution of the respective seeds. The seeds planted by the gardener, and the grain sowed by the husbandman, first pe- rished in the ground, and then the copious increase arose. Much in the same manner a true faith in Christ and his righteousness arises— from what ? From the ruins of self-sufficiency, and the death of personal excellency. Let me therefore entreat my Theron still to take the diary for his counsellor ; still to keep an eye on the depravity of his nature, and the miscarriages of his life. The more clearly we see, the more deeply we feel our guilt and our misery, the more highly shall we value the obedience of our blessed Surety. In such a heart faith will flourish as & rose, LETTER V. 339 an^ lift up its head like a cedar in Lebanon. To such a soul the great Redeemer's right- eousness will be welcome, as waters to the thirsty soil, or as rivers in the sandy desert. LETTER V. AsPASio TO Theron. ' Dear Theron, — Give me leave to re- late an uncommon accident which happen- ed a little while ago in this neighbourhood, and of which I myself was a spectator. The day was the Sabbath ; the place ap- propriated to divine worship was the scene of this remarkable affair. A boy came running into the church breathless and trembling. He told, but in a low voice, those who stood near, that a press-gang* was advancing to besiege the doors, and arrest the sailors. An alarm was immediately taken. Theseameu, with much hurry, and no less anxiety, began to shift for themselves. The rest of the congrega- tion, perceiving an unusual stir, were struck with surprise. A whisper of inquiry ran from seat to seat, which increased by de- grees into a confused murmur. No one could inform his neighbour, therefore every one was left to solve the appearance from the suggestions of a timorous imagination. Some suspected the town was on fire : some were apprehensive of an invasion from the Spaniards : others looked up, and looked round, to see if the walls were not giving way, and the roof falling upon their heads. In a few moments the consternation be- came general. The men stood like statues, in silent amazement, and unavailing per- plexity. The women shrieked aloud ; fell into fits; sunk to the ground in a swoon. Nothing was seen but wild disorder ; no- thingheard but tumultuous clamour. Drown- ed was the preacher's voice. Had he spoke in thunder, his message would scarce nave been regarded. To have gone on with his work, amidst such a prodigious fer- ment, had been like arguing with a whirl- wind, or talking to a tempest. This brought to my mind that great tre- mendous day, when the heavens will pass away, when the earth will be dissolved, and all its inhabitants receive their final doom. If at such incidents of very inferior dread our hearts are ready to fail, what unknown * The reader, it is hoped, will excuse whatever may appear low, or savour of the plebeian, in any of these circumstances. If Aspasio had set himself to invent the description of a panic, he would probably have formed it upon some more raised and dignified incident. But as this was a real matter of fact, which lately happened in one of our sea-port towns, truth, even in a plain dress, may possibly be no less accepta- ble than fiction tricked up with the most splendid embellishments. and inconceivable astonisnment must seize the guilty conscience, when the hand of the Almighty shall open those unparalleled scenes of wonder, desolation, and horror ! when the trumpet shall sound — the dead arise — the world be m flames — the Judge on the throne — and all mankind at the bar ! " The trumpet shall sound," 1 Cor. xv. 52, says the prophetic teacher. And how startling, how stupendous the summons! Nothing equal to it, nothing like it, was ever heard through all the regions of the universe, or all the revolutions of time. When conflicting armies have discharged the bellowing artillery of war, or when vic- torious armies have shouted for joy of the conquest, the seas and shores have rung, the mountains and plains have echoed. But the shout of the archangel and the trump of God will resound from pole to pole ; will pierce the centre, and shake the pillars of heaven. Stronger, stranger still ! it will penetrate even the deepest recesses of the tomb. It will pour its amazing thunder into all those abodes of silence. The dead, the very dead, shall hear. When the trumpet has sounded, " the dead shall arise." In a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, the graves open, the monumental piles are cleft asunder, and the nations under ground start into day. What an immense harvest of men and women, springing up from the caverns of the earth, and the depths of the sea ! Stand awhile, my soul, and consider the wonderful spec- tacle— Adam formed in Paradise, and the babe born but yesterday ; the earliest ages and latest generations, meet upon the same level. Jews and Gentiles, Greeks and Barbarians, people of all climes and lan- guages, unite in the promiscuous throng. Here, those vast armies, which like swarms of locusts covered countries, which with ai irresistible sweep overrun empires — hear they all appear, and here they all are lost — lost like the small drop of a bucket, when plunged into the unfathomable and bound- less ocean. O the multitudes ! the multi- tudes which these eyes shall survey, when God " calleth the heavens from above, and the earth, that he may judge his peo- ple!" What shame must flush the guilty cheek ! what anguish wound the polluted breast ! to have all their filthy practicesj ana infamous tempers, exposed before this in- numerable crowd of witnesses ! — Fly, my Theron ; and fly, my soul ; instantly let us fly, earnestly let us fly, to the purifying blood of Jesus ; that all our sins may be blotted out ; that we may be found " unblamable and unreprovable" in the presence of the assembled world, and what is infinitely more to be revered, in the sight of the omnipotent God. When the swarm issues, the hive will 340 THERON AND ASPASIO. burn": There is no more need of this habi- table plobe. The elect have fought the good fight, and finished their course : The wicked have been tried, and found incorrigi- ble. The important drama is ended, every actor has performed his part ; now, there- fore, the scenes are taken down, and the stage is demolished. " Wo be to the earth, and to the works thereof!" Its streams are turned into pitch, its dust into brimstone, and the breath of the Almighty, like a tor- rent of fire, enkindles the whole. See ! see how the conflagration rages, spreads, prevails over all ! The forests are in a blaze, and the mountains are wrapt in flame. Cities, kingdoms, continents sink in the burning deluge. London, Britain, Europe, are no more. Through all the receptacles of wa- ter, through all the tracts of land, through the whole extent of air, nothing is discerni- ble, but one vast, prodigious, fiery ruin Where now are the treasures of the covet- ous ? where the possessions of the mighty ? where the delights of the voluptuary ? — How wise, how happy are they, whose por- tion is lodged in heavenly mansions ! their " inheritance is incorruptible and undefiled ;" such as the last fire cannot reach, nor the dissolution of nature impair. But see ! the azure vault cleaves ; the expanse of heaven is rolled back like a scroll ; and the Judge, the Judge appears I " He cometh," cries a mighty seraph, the herald of his approach, "he cometh to judge the world in righteousness, and minister true judgment unto the people !" He cometh, not as formerly in the habit of a servant, but clad with uncreated glory, and magnificently attended with the armies of heaven. Angels and archangels stand before him, and ten thousand times ten thousand of those .celes- tial spirits minister unto him. Behold him, ye faithful followers of the Lamb ; and won- der and love ! This is he who bore all your iniquities on the ignominious cross : This is he who fulfilled all righteousness for the justification of your persons. — Behold him, ye despisers of his grace, and wonder, and perish I This is he whose merciful over- tures you have contemned, and on whose precious blood you have trampled. The great white throne, Rev. xx. 11, be- yond description august and formidable, is erected. The King of heaven, the Lord of glory, takes his seat on the dreadful tribunal. Mercy on his right hand displays the olive- branch of peace, and holds forth the crown of righteousness : Justice on his left poises the impartial scale, and unsheaths the sword of vengeance : while wisdom and holiness, brighter than ten thousand suns, beam in his divine aspect. What are all the preced- ing events to this new scene of dignity and awe ? The peals of thunder, sounding in the archangel's trumpet ; the blaze of a burn- j ng world, and the strong convulsions of ex- piring nature ; the unnumbered myriads of human creatures, starting into instantaneous existence, and thronging the astonished skies ; all these seem familiar incidents, compared with the appearance of the incar- nate Jehovah. Amazement, more than amazement, is all around- Terror and glory unite in their extremes. From the sight of his majestic eye, from the insupportable splendours of his face, the earth itself, and the very " heavens flee away." Rev. xx. II. How then ? Oh, how shall the ungodly stand ? stand in his angry presence, and draw near to this consuming fire ! Yet draw near they must, and take their trial, their decisive trial, at his righteous bar. Every action comes under examination ; for each idle word they must give account. Not so much as a secret thought escapes this exact scrutiny. How shall the crimi- nals, the impenitent criminals, either conceal their guilt or elude the sentence ? They have to do with a sagacity too keen to be deceived, with a power too strong to be re- sisted, and (O ! terrible, terrible considera- tion !) with a severity of most just displea- sure, that will never relent, never be entreated more. What ghastly despair lowers on their pale looks ! What racking agonies rend their distracted hearst ! The bloody axe and the torturing wheel are ease, are down, compared with their prodigious wo. And (O holy God !) wonderful in thy doings! fearful in thy judgments, even this prodigious wo is the gentlest of visitations, compared with that indignation and wrath which are hanging over their guilty heads, which are even now falling on all the sons of re- bellion, which will plunge them deep in aggravated and endless destruction. And is there a last day ? and must there come A sure, a fix'd irrerocable doom ? Surely then, to use the words of a pious prelate,* it should be " the main care of our lives and deaths, what shall give us peace and acceptation before the dreadful tribunal of God. What but righteousness ? What righteousness, or whose ? Ours, or Christ's ? Ours, in the inherent graces wrought in us, in the holy works wrought by us ? or Christ's, in his most perfect obe- dience and meritorious satisfaction, wrought for us, and applied to us ? The Popish faction is for the former : we Protestants are for the latter. God is as direct on our side as his word can make him ; everywhere blazoning the defects of our own righteous- ness, everywhere extolling the perfect obe- dience of our Redemer's." "Behold!" says the everlasting King, " I lay in Zion for a foundation, a stone ; a tried stone, a precious corner-stone, a » Bishop Hall. LETTER V. 341 sura foundation : he that believeth, shall not make haste," Isa. xxviii. 16. As this text contains so noble a display of our Sa- viour's consummate ability for his great work ; as it is admirably calculated to pre- serve the mind from distressing fears, and to settle it in a steady tranquillity ; you will give me leave to touch it cursorily with my pen, just as I should descant upon it in conversation, was I now sitting in one of your agreeable arbours, and enjoying your more agreeable company. How beautiful the gradation ! how lively the description ! and how very important the practical improvement; or, I might say, the inscription, which is engraven on this wonderful stone. — " Behold !" Intended to rouse and fix our most attentive regard. The God of heaven speaks. He speaks, and every syllable is balm ; every sentence is rich with consolation. If ever, therefore, we have ears to hear, let it be to this Speaker, and on this occasion. " A stone." — Every thing else is sliding sand, is yielding air, is a breaking bubble. Wealth will prove a vain shadow, honour an empty breath, pleasure a delusory dream, our own righteousness a spider's web. If on these we rely, disappointment must en- sue, and shame be inevitable. Nothing but Christ, nothing but Christ, can stably sup- port our spiritual interests, and realize our expectations of true happiness. And, bless- ed be the divine goodness ! he is, for this purpose, not a stone only, but " A tried stone." — Tried, in the days of his humanity, by all the vehemence of temp- tations, and ail the weight of afflictions ; yet, like gold from the furnace, rendered more shining and illustrious by the fiery scrutiny. Tried, under the capacity of a Saviour, by millions and millions of depraved, wretched, and ruined creatures, who have always found him perfectly able, and as perfectly willing, to expiate the most enormous guilt — to de- liver from the most inveterate corruptions — and save, to the very uttermost, all that come unto God through him. " A corner stone." — Which not only sustains, but unites the edifice, incorporat- ing both Jews and Gentiles, believers of various languages, and manifold denomina- tions— here, in one harmonious bond of brotherly love — hereafter, in one common participation of eternal joy. " A precious stone." — More precious than rubies ; the pearl of great price, and the desire of all nations. — Precious, with regard to the divine dignity of his person, and the unequalled excellency of his media- torial oflBces. In these, and in all respects, greater than Jonah — wiser than Solomon — fairer than all the children of men — chiefest among ten thousand-^and to the awakened sinner, or enlightened believer, " altogether lovely." Cant. v. 16. " A sure foundation." — Such as no pres- sure can shake ; equal, more than equal to every weight, even to sin, the heaviest load in the world. " The Rock of Ages," such as never has failed, never will fail, those humble penitents who cast their burden upon the Lord Redeemer ! who roll* all their guilt, and fix their whole hopes, on this immoveable basis ; or, as the origi- nal words may be rendered, " a founda- tion ! a foundation !" There is a fine spirit of vehemency in the sentence, thus under- stood. It speaks the language of exultation, and expresses an important discovery. That which mankind infinitely want ; that which multitudes seek, and find not ; it is here ! it is here ! This, this is the foundation for their pardon, their peace, their eternal fe- licity. " Whosoever believeth," though pressed with adversities, or surrounded by dangers, •'shall not make haste :"i- but, free from tumultuous and perplexing thoughts, preserv- ed from rash and precipitate steps, he shall possess his soul in patience ; knowing the sufiiciency of those merits, and the fidelity of that grace, on which he has reposed his con- fidence, shall quietly, and without perturba- tion, wait for an expected end. And not only amidst the perilous or disastrous changes of life, but even in the day of ever- lasting judgment, such persons shall stand with boldness. They shall look up to the grand Arbitrator — look round on all the solemnity of his appearance — look forward to the unalterable sentence—and neither feel anxiety, nor fear damnation. Such, in that day of terrors, shall be seen To face the thunders with a godlike mien. * Roll. — This is the exact sense of the sacred phrase, mn^ 7j^ "^D) Psal. xxii. 8 ; xxxvii. 5. Prov. xvi. 3. I am not ignorant, that some people have presumed to censure, and many have been shy of us- ing this bold and vigorous metaphor : which never- theless appears to me, of all others, the most just, the most significant, and therefore the most truly beau- tiful. t " Shall not make haste." This metaphorical ex presston, though it might be very intelligible to a Hebrew, is, to an English reader, like some fine pic- ture placed in a disadvantageous light. We may pos- sibly illustrate the prophet's meaning, and exemplify his assertion, if we compare the conduct of Moses with that of the Israelites, on viewing the fatal catas- trophe of Dathan and Abiram. When the earth trembled under their feet, when the ground opened its horrid jaws, when the presumptuous sinners went down alive into the pit, when the tremendous chasm closed upon the screaming wretches; the children of Israel, it is written, " fled at the cry of them, fled in wild and hasty confusion ; forthey said, lesttheearth swallow us up also." But Moses, who denounced the dreadful doom, Moses, who was sure of the divina protection ! Moses made no such precipitate or dis- orderly haste. He stood calm and composed ; saw the whole alarming transaction, without any uneasy emotions of fear, or any unnecessary attempts to es- cape. So that his behaviour seems to be a clear and apposite comment on Isaiah's phrase. See Numb xvu 342 THERON AND ASPASIO. The planets drop ; their thoughts are fix'tt alK>vc : The centre shaKes : their hearts disdain to move. This portion of Scripture, which I hope will both delight and edify my friend, recalls our attention to the subject of my present ]etter — to those propitiatory sufferings, and that justifying righteousness, which, imput- ed to sinners, are the ground of their com- fort, and the bidwark of their security. And what say the writers of the New Tes- tament upon this point? they, whose under- standings were opened by the " Wonderful Counsellor," to discern the meaning of the ancient oracles ; who must therefore be the most competent judges of their true import, and our surest guides in settling their sense. Do they patronize our interpretation of the prophets ? do they set their seal to the au- thenticity of our doctrine ? St. Luke, in his ecclesiastical history, has preserved this weighty declaration of the apostles : " We believe, that through the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, we shall be saved even as they. Acts. xv. 11. Here the thing is implietl. — St. Peter, in the in- troduction to one of his theological epistles, thus addresses his happy correspondents : " To them that have obtained like precious faith, in the righteousness* of our God and Saviour Jesus Christ." 2 Pet. i. 1. Here the point is expressly asserted. — With equal clearness is the doctrine delivered by Matthew the evangelist -. " Seek ye first the kingdom of God and his righteousness." Matt. vi. 33. What can the " kingdom of God" mean ? An experience of the power, and an enjoyment of the privileges of the gospel. What are we to understand by " his righteousness ?" Surely, the right- eousness which is worthy of this grand ap- pellation, and peculiar to that blessed insti- tution. Would we learn what is the great and dis- tinguishing peculiarity of the gospel ? St. Paul informs us : " Therein the righteous- ness of God is revealed, from faith to faith." As this text leads us into the Epistle to the Romans ; as this epistle is, for the proprie- ty of its method, as well as for the impor- tance of its doctrine, singularly excellent ; it may not be amiss to examine its struc- ture, and inquire into its design. The apostle writes to a promiscuous peo- ple, who had been converted, partly from Judaism, partly from Gentilism. His aim is, to strike at the very root of their former errors respectively — to turn them wholly to the superabundant grace of God, and esta- * The phrase is "itivrn iv iiKaiorvvn. If we retain the common translation, it proves another very mo- mentous truth : " that the righteousness of our God, even of our Saviour Jesus Christ," is the one merito. nous procuring cause of all spiritual blessings; of faith, as well as of fruition; of grace, as well as of glory. blish them solely on the all-sufficient tneritt of Christ. The Gentiles were, for the most part, grossly ignorant of God, and stupidly negli- gent of invisible interests. If any among them had a sense of religion, their virtues, they imagined, 'were meritorious of all that the Deity could bestow. If they fell into sin, sin they supposed might easily be obliterat- ed by repentance, or compensated by a train of sacrifices.* A few of their judi- cious sages taught, that the most probable means of securing the divine favour, was a sincere reformation of life. The Jews, it is well known, placed a mighty dependence on their affinity to Abra- ham, and the covenant made with their fa- thers, on their adherence to the letter of the moral law, and their scrupulous per- formance of ceremonial institutions ; Gen- tiles and Jews agreeing in this mistake, that they looked for the pardon of guilt, and the attainment of happiness, from some services done, or some qualities acquired by them- selves. Against these errors the zealous apostle draws his pen. He enters the lists like a true champion of Christ, in the most spirit- ed and heroic manner imaginable. " I am not ashamed of the gospel of Christ ;" for, however it may be deemed foolishness by the polite Greeks, or prove a stumbling- block to the carnal Jews, " it is the power of God unto salvation," Rom. i. 16, it is the grand instrument, which he has ordained for fhis blessed pmpose, and which he will certainly crown with the desired success. \\ hence has the gospel this very peculiar power ? because therein a righteousness is revealed, a true and perfect righteousness, which obliterates all guilt, and furnishes a solid title to eternal life. What righteous- ness is this ? the righteousness, not of man but of God ; which was promised by God in the scriptures, was introduced by God in the person of his Son, and on account of its * See Witsii Animadversiones Irencia?, cap. 7— A choice little piece of polemical divinity ; perhaps the very best that is extant ; in which the most im- portant controversies are fairly stated, accurately dis- cussed, and judiciously determined, with a perspicui- ty of sense, and a solidity of reasoning exceeded by nothing hut the lemarkable conciseness, and the still more remarkable candour of the sentiments. The Oeconomia Fiederuni, written by the same hand, is a body of divinity, in its method so well di- gested, in its doctrines so truly evangelical, and (what is not very usual with our systematic writers,) in its language so refined and elegant, in its manner soaffec- tionate and animating, that I would venture to re- commend it to every young student of divinity. I would not scruple to risk all my reputation upon the merits of this iierformance ; and I cannot but lamen it, as one of my greatest losses, that I was not sooner acquainted with this most excellent author. AH whose works havesuch a delicacy of composition, and such a sweet savour of holiness, that 1 know not any comparison more proper to represent their true char- acter, than the golden pot which had manna; and was outwardly, bright with burnished gold, inwardly rich with heavenly food. LETTER V. 843 consummate excellency, is both acceptable I the contrary, "we establish the law,"* Rom. and available in his sight This righteousness is " from faith to faith," Rom. i. 17; held forth, as it were, by a promising God, and apprehended by a believing soul, who first gives a firm assent to the gospel — then cordially accepts its blessings, from a conviction that the doc- trine is true, passes to a persuasion that the privileges are his own. When this is ef- fected, a foundation is laid for all happiness, a principle is wrought, to produce all holi- ness. But why was it requisite that such a righteousness should be provided by God, and revealed in the gospel ? Because both Gentile and Jew neither possessed, nor could attain, any righteousness of their own ; and this righteousness, though so ab- solutely necessary for their fallen state, was infinitely remote from all human apprehen- sions. The latter assertion is self-evident ; the former is particularly demonstrated. — First, with regard to the Gentiles; the gener- ality of whom were abandoned to the most scandalous excesses ; and they who had es- caped the grosser pollutions, fell short in the duties of natural religion. Next, with regard to the Jews ; many of whom lived in open violation of the external command- ment ; and not one of them acted up to the internal purity required by the Mosaic precepts. From which premises this conclu- sion is deduced — that each of them had trangressed even their own rule of action ; that all of them were, on this account, utterly inexcusable : therefore by the works of the law, whether dictated by reason or delivered by Moses, "no mortal can be jus- tified, Rom. iii. 20, in the sight of God. Lest any should imagine, that righteous, ness may be obtained, if not by a conformi- ty to the law of nature, or the law of Moses, yet by an observation of evangelical ordi- nances, he farther declares, that sinners are justified freely, without any regard to their own endowments, " through the redemp- tion, the complete redemption of Jesus Christ, Rom. iii. 24, after such a manner, as may lay them low in humiliation, even while it exalts them to the kingdom of hea- ven ; after such a manner, as may bring life and salvation to their souls, while all the glory reverts to God the Father, and his Son Jesus Christ. In the prosecution of this very momen- tous subject, our sacred disputant removes an objection which is as common as it is plausible. " Do we make void the law •through faith?" Do we render it a vain in- stitution, such as never has been, never will be fulfilled ? " God forbid !" This were a llagiant dishonour to the divine Legislator and his holy commandments ; such as we would abhor, rather than countenance. Qn ii. 31 ; not only as we receive it for a rule of life, but as we expect no salvation without a proper, without a perfect conformity to its injunctions. How can this be effected ? by qualifying its sense, and softening it into an easier system ? This were to vacate the law, to deprive it of its honours ; and hinder it from attaining the due end, either of obedience or condemnation. No ; but we establish the law, by believing in that great Mediator, who has obeyed its every precept, sustained its whole penality, and satisfied all its re- quirements in their utmost extent. Farther to corroborate his scheme, he proves it from the renowned examples of Abraham and David. The instance of Abraham is so clear, that it wants no com- ment: Any paraphrase would rather ob- scure, than illustrate it. The other, derived from the testimony of the Psalmist, may ad- mit the commentator's tool ; yet not to hammer it into a new form, but only to clear away the rubbish; to rescue itfrom misrepre- sentation, and place it in a true light, " Even as David describeth the blessedness of the man, to whom God imputeth right- eousness without works, saying, Blessed are they, whose unrighteousness is forgiven, and whose sins are covered : Blessed is the man to whom the Lord will not impute sin." Rom. iv. 6. 7. Here is imputation assert- ed— the imputation of righteousness — of righteousness without works ; without any respect to, or any co-operation from any kind of human works. It is a blessing vouchsafed to the ungodly; not founded on a freedom from sin, but procuring a remission of its guilt. Some, I know, have attempted to re- solve all the force of this passage into an ar- gument for the sameness of pardon and jus- tification ; whereas the apostle undertakes to prove, not that forgiveness and justifica- tion are indentically the same, but that both are absolutely free. To maintain which posi- tion he argues : " This doctrine is as true, as it is comfortable. It agrees with the ex- perience, and has received the attestation of David, When he speaks of the blessed and happy man, he describes him, not as an innocent, but guilty person ; not as having any claim to the divine favour, on account of deserving performances, or recommend- ing properties ; but as owing all his accep- tance to that sovereign grace, which for- gives iniquities and blots out sin. Such ie the case with regard to that evangelical jus- tification which we preach ; even as it is, in the manner of its vouchsafement perfect- ly similar to the blessedness celebrated by the Psalmist." The apostle's eye is not so directly upon the nature of the privilege, as upon the fieeness with which it is granted : » An incontestible proof that the aposllc treats of the moral law. 344 THERON AND ASPASIO. Nor can any infer from the tenor of his rea- eoning, that to be forgiven, is the same as to be justified ; only that both are acts of infinitely rich mercy, designed for sinners ; promised to sinners, bestowed on sinners ; who have nothing, nothing of their own, either to boast or to plead. In the fifth chapter, from verse the twelfth to the end, the sacred penman points out the cause, and explains the method of jus- tification : Of which this is the sum — That Christ, in pursuance of the covenant of grace, fulfilled all righteousness in the stead of his people : That this righteousness being per- formed for them, is imputed to them : That by virtue of this gracious imputation they are absolved from guilt and entitled to bliss ; as thoroughly absolved, and as fully entitled, as if in their own persons they had under- gone the expiatory sufferings and yielded the meritorious obedience. I-est it should seem strange in the opinion of a Jew or a Gentile, to hear of being justified by the righteous- ness of another, the wary apostle urges a parallel case, recorded in the Jewish revela- tion, but ratified by universal experience ;* namely, our being condemned for the un- righteousness of another. In this respect, he observes, Adam was a type of our Lord, or " a figure of him that was to come." Rom. v. 14. The relation is the same, but the effect is happily reversed. Adam the head of his posterity ; Christ the head of his people. Adam's sin was imputed to all his natural descendants ; Christ's righteous- ness is imputed to all his spiritual offspring. Adam's transgression brought death into the world, and all our wo ; Christ's obedience brings life, and all our happiness.f The whole closes with this very obvious and no less weighty inference : " Therefore, as by the offence of one, judgment came upon all men to condemnation ; even so, by the righ- teousness of one, the free gift came upon all men unto justification of life." Rom. v. 18. I do not recollect any other similitude which the apostle so minutely sifts, and so copiously unfolds. He explains it, he ap- plies it, he resumes it, he dwells upon it, and scarcely knows how to desist from it. I am sure you will not blame me if I imi by Emanuel— remission and righteousness. For who are the persons which receive abun- dance of grace ? They, I apprehend, that, having sinned much, have much forgiven. Who are the persons which receive abun- dance of the gift of righteousness ? They that, having in their own conduct wrought out none which will bear the test of God's impartial scrutiny, have one placed to their account which the all-seeing eye of heaven approves. However, whether the distinc- tion I have ventured to propose be fanciful or substantial, of this I am persuaded, that the gift of righteousness* must signify a righteousness not originally their own, but another's ; not what they themselves have acquired, but what was fulfilled by their Surety ; and is, by an act of heavenly in- dulgence, consigned over to them. Accord- ingly it is represented, not as a work, but as a gift ; and those who are interested in it are styled, not workers, but receivers. I should but faintly copy the apostolic example, if I did not once again avail myself of this important topic. Suffer me, there- fore, to transcribe one more verse from this admirable chapter. " As by the disobedi- ence of one man, many were made sinners ; so by the obedience of one, shall many be made righteous." Rom. v. 19. The "diso- bedience of one," is the disobedience of Adam, his actual transgression of the divine law. Hereby " many were made sinners ;" sinners in such a sense as to become ob- noxious unto condemnation and death. All this, I think, is, from the apostle's own words, indisputable. And if we would pre- serve the propriety of his antithesis, or the force of his reasoning, we must allow, that the obedience of one is the obedience of Christ; his actual and complete perform- ance of the whole law. Hereby " many are made righteous ;" righteous in such a sense, as to be released from condemnation, and vested with a title to life eternal. How clear and easy is this meaning ! how just and regular this argumentation ! "What subtiity of evasion must be used, to give a ditferent turn to the instructive text ! This is the most consistent sense in which I can understand Rom. viii. 5. " That the tate the sacred author, revert to the subject, righteousness of the law might be fulfilled and quote another passage from the same in us, who walk not after the flesh, but after paragraph. "Much more shall they who ' the Spirit :" That the righteousness requir- receive abundance of grace, and of the gift ed by the holy, but broken law, might be of righteousness, reign in life by one, Jesus thoroughly accomplished ; accomplished by Christ. Rom. v. 17. Here I am ready to our public Representative, and in our hu- think, the inspired writer puts a difference between the two grand blessings purchased * By the pains and death which infants in every na- tion endure, wliich are unquestionably punishments, and to which they are doomed by the nghteousjudg- ment of God. - , . t " As the sin of Adam," saysBengelius, " without any concurrence of tlie sins which we ourselves respec- tively commit, occasioned our ruin ; so the righteous- . arnuipsrf .,< i„h sim nes. of Christ, attracted from all consideration of ^^i"^;';hem sV4rk\rr oVn i eai fnR our personal obolienca, procures our roco\ ery." ^alie tneni speaK our ow n meaning, * I cannot but wonder at the assertion of a late writer, who roundly declares, " That there isnotone word in this whole chapter relating to the antecedent obedience of Christ's life, but expressing only his pass- ive obedience." Must then this group of expressions — ^ixaioTUMn — hxiiieii/u.a — wax-ori — be confined barely to the sufferings of our Lord ? To put such a sense upon the words of the apostle, is, according to my apprehension, not to hear his voice, but to gap his mouth ; not to acquiesce in the sacred oracles, but to LKTTER V. 345 man nature ; so as to be deemed, in point of legal estimation, fulfilled for us and by us.* This,'J say, is most consistent wth the tenor of St. Paul's arguing, and with the exact import of his language. — With the tenor of his arguing ; for he undertakes to demon- strate the impossibility of our justification by any personal conformity to the law ; whereas, if we could satisfy its penalty, and obey its precepts, or, in other words, fulfil its righteousness, this impossibility would cease With the exact import of his lan- guage ; for the original phrase denotes not a sincere, but a complete obedience ; not what we are enabled to perform, but what the law has a right to demand ; which every one must acknowledge, is not fulfilled in any mere man since the fall, but was fulfill- ed by Jesus Christ for our good and in our stead. This interpretation preserves the sentences distinct, and makes a very natural introduction for the following clause, where the persons interested in this privilege are described by their fruits, " who walk not after the flesh, but after the Spirit ;" imply- ing, that justification and sanctification are like the ever-corresponding motion of our eyes, inseparable concomitants ; and we vainly pretend to the former, if we continue destitute of the latter. We have produced positive proofs of our doctrine : we have heard an apostle declar- ing the assured happiness and complete jus- tification of true believers. Let us now ob- serve the same sagacious judge of men and things discovering the danger of those self- justiciaries who reject the Redeemer's right- eousness. He is filled with the darkest apprehen- sions, concerning his brethren the Jews. He is impressed with melancholy presages, relating to their eternal state. Rom. ix. 2. What was the cause of this tender solici- tude? Had they cast off all religion, and given themselves over to gross immoralities ? On the contrary, they were worshippers of the true God ; and had, in their way, not only a regard, but a zeal for his honour. Rom. X. 2. Wherefore, then, does this compassionate father in Israel feel the same trembling uneasiness for his kinsmen accord- ing to the flesh, as Eli felt for the endan- gered ark ? Himself assigns the reason : Because " they, being ignorant of God's righteousness, and going about to establish their own righteousness, have not submitted themselves to the righteousness of God," Rom. X. 3. Not knowing that immaculate holiness, which the perfect nature, and equally perfect law of the most high God require ; being wilfully ignorant of that con- • It is remarked by a judicious critic and very val- uable expositor, that the preposition •» sometimes signifies bp ot for, and is so translated. Matt. v. 34 ; Heb. i. 1 . See Dr. Guyse't Exposition of the New Testament. summate obedience, which an incarnate God vouchsafed to perform for the justification of his people ; they sedulously, but foolishly endeavoured to establish their own right- eousness ; to make it, scanty and decrepit as it was, the basis of their hopes. Thus were they resting their everlasting all on a bottom, not precarious only, but irreparably ruinous. A boundless eternity the fabric : yet they build (wonder, O heavens !) on the foam of the waters ! and (which added stub- bornness to their folly) in avowed contempt of that strong and sure foundation, laid by God's own hand in Zion. For this the good apostle was afflicted with " great hea- viness and continual sorrow." For this he made the prophet's pathetic complaint his own : " O that my head were waters, and my eyes a fountain of tears, that I might be- wail day and night," Jer. ix. 1, the incorri- gible perverseness of my people ! " For my people have committed two evils," in not thankfully submitting to the righteousness of God, " they have forsaken the fountain of living waters," in attempting to establish their own righteousness, " they have hewed themselves out cisterns, broken cisterns, that can hold no water." Jer ii. 13. Having showed their fatal error, he strengthens his representation by displaying the happy success of the Gentiles. " What shall we say then ?" This, however impro- bable it may seem, we confidently affirm, " That the Gentiles, who followed not after righteousness," who had no knowledge of it, and no concern about it j even " they have attained to righteousness."* Strange as- sertion ! how is this possible ? Doubtless, the righteousness which they attained, could not be any personal righteousness ; of this they were totally destitute. Instead of practising moral virtues, or religious duties, they were immersed in sensuality, and aban- doned to idolatry. It must therefore be the evangelical, the imputed righteousness, " even that which was wrought by Christ, and is received by faith. "f Israel, in the mean time, the nominal Is- rael, who with great pretensions to sanctity, and many costly oblations, " followed after * Surely, this must signify more than "attaining to the profession of a religion, whereby they may be justified and saved. To this multitudes attain, who continue as the prophet speaks, "stout hearted and far from righteousness : whoi derive no real benefit from their profession; but are rendered utterly inex- cusable, and liable to more aggravated conderana. tion. •(■ Surely the righteousness, which is by faith, cannot consist "in humbly committing the soul to Christ in the way that he hath appointed." According tojthis notion, the justifyingrigliteousness would spring from ourselves — would be constituted by an act of our own, and not by the perfect obedience of our Lord. I am sorry to see this, and the preceding interpreta- tion, in the works of an expositor, wliose learning I admire, whose piety I reverence, and whose memory I honour. Yet I must say on this occasion, with one of the ancient philosophers, " Amicus, Plato, amicus Socrates, sed magis arnica, Veritas." 846 THERON AND ASPASIO. the law of righteousness, hath not attained to the law of righteousness." " Attained !" they have done nothing less. They are fal- len vastly short of it ; they are pronounced guilty by it ; they stand condemned before it." Wherefore did they so grossly mis- take, and so greviously miscarry ? Be- cause they forsook the good old way, in which Abraham, David, and their pious ancestors walked. They adopted a new scheme ; and would fain have substituted their own, instead of relying on a Saviour's righteousness. They sought for justifica- tion, not " by faith," but as it were " by the works of the law," Rom. ix. 30, 31, 32. A method which their fathers knew not ; which their God ordained not ; and which proved, as it always will prove, not only abortive but destructive. At this stone they stumbled, on this rock they split. Let their rum be a way-mark, and the apostle's obser- vation a light-house to my Theron. Our zealous writer tries every expedient : He mingles hope with terror. Having point- ed out the rock on which the Israelites suffered shipwreck, he directs us to the haven in which sinners may cast anchor and find safety. He gives us a fine descrip- tive view of the Christian's complete hap- piness. He opens (if I may continue the metaphor) a free and ample port for perishing souls ; not formed by a neck of land or a ridge of mountains, but by a mag- nificent chain of spiritual blessings ; all proceeding from, and terminating in, that precious corner-stone, Jesus Christ, " who of God is made unto us wisdom and right- eousness, and sanctification, and redemption," 1 Cor. i. 30; "wisdom," to enlighten our ignorant minds ; " righteousness, "-j- to jus- tify our guilty persons; " sanctification, '"-f- to renew our depraved natures ; " redemp- tion," to rescue us from all evil, and render us, both in body and soul, perfectly and eternally happy. Let it be remarked, how carefully our inspired writer sets aside all sufficiency, as well as all merit, in man * This, I apprehend, is the purport of the apostle's speech, when he tells us, that his countrymen " had not attained unto the law of righteousness." He uses the figure f^itaxrn, and means more than he ex press es. Somewhat like the prophet in the close of this chapter who assures the believers in Jesus, " they shall not be ashamed," that is, " they shall be encouraged, emboldened, established." t "Righteousness and sanctification;" the former imputed, the latter inherent. This preserves a distinc- tion between the noble articles, and assigns to each a grand share in the economy of salvation. To say, that if one of the blessings is communicated in the same manner, seems to be cavilling, rather than argu- ing; because the subjects areof adifferentnature,|and therefore must be enjoyed in a different way. 'the cocoa tree is, to the American, food and clothing, a habitation and domestic utensils: but must we suppose it adminibtering to all those uses in one and the same unvaried method ? Because in one respect it is eaten, in another it is wore, must it be thus applied in all ? I believe, the illiterate savage who enjoys the several gifts, need not be taught the absurdity of such a sup- positiuti. He represents the whole of our salvation, both in its procurement and application, as a work of freest grace. Christ is, and not we ourselves, the author of this glorious restoration, the cause of this great felicity. He is made all this unto us. How ? Not by our own resolution and strength ; but of God, by the agency of his mighty power and blessed Spirit. He shows us the all- sufficient fulness of Christ. He brings us by ardent longings to Christ. He implants us into Christ, and makes us partakers of his merits. In the process of the same epistle, the sacred penman enumerates the constituent parts of that great salvation which the Son of God has procured for ruined sinners. " But ye are washed, but ye are sanctified, but ye are justified, in the name of the Lord Jesus, and by the Spirit of our God," 1 Cor. vi. 11. " Ye are washed;" cleans- ed from the filth, and discharged from the guilt of all your iniquities. " Ye are sanc- tified ;" delivered from the death of sin, and endued with a living principle of holiness. " Ye are justified ;" restored to a state of acceptance with God, and invested with a title to eternal glory. All which inestima- ble prerogatives are conferred upon the true believer, " in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ," in consideration of his aton- ing blood and meritorious righteousness. " By the Spirit of our God ;" through the efficacy of his operation, revealing Christ, and working faith in the heart. Some gentlemen have talked of a new remedial law ; whereas the apostle declares, " that Christ is the end of the" old, the unalterable, the Mosaic " law, for righte- ousness to every one that believeth," Rom. X. 4.. Follow the course of a river, it will constantly lead you to the ocean. Trace the veins of the body, they invariably unite in the heart. Maik likewise the tendency of the law, it no less constantly and invaria- bly conducts you to Christ, as the centre of its views, and the consummation of its demands. The moral law aims at discov- ering our guilt, and demonstrating our in- expressible need of a Saviour. The cere- monial points him out as suffering in our stead, making reconciliation for iniquity, and purging away every defilement with his blood. They both direct the wretched transgressor to renounce himself, and fly to the Redeemer, who alone has paid that perfect obedience, and brought in that ever- lasting righteousness, which the sinner wants, and the law exacts ; who is there- fore the only proper accomplishment of the one, and the only suitable supply for the other. What is the grand design of the whole scriptures ? St. Paul, displaying their sub- lime origin, and enumerating the gracious LETTER V. 947 purposes they are intended to serve, writes thus : " All scripture is given by inspira- tion of God ; and is profitable for doctrine," to declare and establish religious truth ; " for reproof," to convince of sin, and to refute error j " for* correction," or renova- tion of the heart and reformation of the life ; " for instruction in righteousness," in that righteousness which could never have been learned from any other book, and in which alone sinful men may appear with comfort before their God. , » We have seen the principal scope of the law and the leading design of the scrip- tures ; let ifs add one inquiry more. What is the chief office of the Spirit ? If all these coincide, and uniformly terminate in the imputed righteousness of Christ, we have a confirmation of its reality and excellence, great as man can desire, I had almost said, great as God can impart. What says our Lord upon this point? " When he, the Spirit of truth, is come, he shall convince"!" the world of sin, of righteousness, and ofjudg- ment. Of sin, because they believe not on me ; of righteousness, because I go to my Father, and ye see me no more ; of judg- ment, because the prince of this world is judged," John xvi. 8 — 11. Is it possible for words to be more weighty and compre- hensive? Here is a summary of Christian faith, and of Christian holiness- Not that superficial holiness which is patched up of devotional forms, and goes no farther than external performances ; but that which is vital, and springs from the heart ; con- sists in power, not in mere profession ; whose praise, if not of men who are smit- ten with pompous outsides, is sure to be of God, who distinguishes the things which are excellent. " He shall convince the world of sin," of original and actual sin, the sin of their na- ture, as well as the sin of their life, the sin of their best deeds, no less than the sin of their criminal commissions and blamable omissions. Above all, of their sinning against the sovereign, the only remedy, by unbelief, "because they believe not on me." He shall convince " of righteousness," of the divine Redeemer's righteousness, which the foregoing conviction must render pecu- liarly welcome ; convince them, that it was wrought out in behalf of disobedient and defective mortals ; that it is absolutely per- fect, and sufficient to justify even the most ungodly. Of all which, an incontestible proof is given, by his resurrection from the dead, his triumphant ascension into heaven, and sitting at the right hand of his Father: " Because I go to my Father, and ye see me no more."* He shall convince "of judgment." Those who are humbled under a sense of guilt, and justified through an im- puted righteousness, shall be taught by hap- py experience, that the prince of this world is condemned and dethroned in their hearts, that their souls are rescued from the tyran- ny of Satan, are made victorious over their corruptions, and restored to the liberty, the glorious liberty, of the children of God. You wonder, perhaps, that I have not strengthened my cause by any quotation from the Epistle to the Galatians. What I design, my dear Theron, is not to accu- mulate, but to select arguments. However, that I may not disappoint an expectation so reasonable, 1 proceed to lay before you a very nervous passage from that masterful piece of sacred controversy. Only let me just observe, that the epistle was written to persons who had embraced Christianity, and professed an affiance in Christ ; but would fain have joined circumcision, would fain have superadded their own religious du- ties to the merits of their Saviour, in order to constitute, at least, some part of their justifying righteousness. Against which error, the vigilant and indefatigable assertor of " the truth as it is in Jesus," remon- strates : " We who are Jews by nature, and not sinners of the Gentiles, knowing that a man is not justified by the works of the law,f but by the faith of Jesus Christ, even we have believed in Jesus Christ, that we might be justified by the faith of Christ, and not by the works of the law; for by the works of the law shall no flesh be justi- fied," Gal. ii. 15, 16. "We who are Jews by nature," the descendants of Abraham, and God's peculiar people, have the tables of his law, and the ordinances of his wor- ship ; we who in point of privileges are greatly superior to the Gentile nations, and have all possible advantages for establishing (if such a thing were practicable) a righte- ousness of our own, what have we done ? " We have believed on Jesus Christ ;" we have renounced ourselves, disclaimed what- ever is our own, and depended wholly on the righteousness of Christ. For what end ? That by this " faith in Christ," which re- ceives his righteousness, pleads his righte- * 2 Tim. iii. 16. Hgaf fravd^Sca^tv. t " He shall convince,' seems to be the most pro- per translation of lXiyl,u, as it implies the sure suc- cess which attends the operation of the divine .Spirit. Wan may reprove, and no conviction ensue ; where- as that Almighty Agent not only reproves, but reproves with power; so as to dctermiue the judguuut, and iway the afieclions, * For if the work had been imperfect in any de- gree, our Redeemer, instead of taking up his stated and final residence in the regions of glory, must have descended again into this inferior world, to complete what was deficient. t Observable, very observable, is the zeal of our apostle in this determined stand against the mostspe- cious, and therefore the most dangerous encroach- ments of error. To express hisardent concern for the truth and purity of the gospel, the works of the law are mentioTiednoless than three times, by the apostle, and as often excluded from the aftair of justification. The faith of Christ likewise is thrice inculcated, and as often asserted to be the only method of becoming righteous before GoU. 348 THERON AND ASPASIO. ousiiess, and presents nothing but his'righte- ousness before the throne, " we might be justified." What motive has induced us to this practice ? A firm persuasion, that by " the works of the law," by sincere obe- dience, or personal holiness, " no man liv- ing has been, and no man living can be, justified before God." Are you tired, Theron ? have I fatigued your attention, instead of convincing your judgment? I will not harbour such a sus- picion. It is pleasing to converse with those who have travelled into foreign coun- tries, and seen the wonders of creation. We hearken to their narratives with de- light. Every new adventure whets our curiosity, rather than palls our appetite. Must it not then afford a more sublime sa- tisfaction to be entertained with the dis- courses of a person, who had not, indeed, sailed round the world, but made a journey to the third heavens? who had been admitted into the paradise of God, and heard things of infinite importance, and unutterable dig- nity ? This was the privilege of that in- comparable man, whose observations and discoveries I have been presenting to my friend. And I promise myself, he will not complain of weariness, if I enrich my epistle with one or two more of those glorious truths. " God hath made him to be sin for us who knew no sin, that we might," not be put into a capacity of acquiring a righteousness of our own, but "be made the righteousness of God in him," 2 Cor. v. 21. In this text the double imputation of our sin to Christ, and of Christ's righteousness to us, is most emphatically taughtand most charmingly contrasted. Most emphatically taught: For we are said, not barely to be righteous, but to be made right- eousness itself ; and not righteousness only, but (which is the utmost that language can reach) the righteousness of God. Most charmingly contrasted : For one cannot but ask, in what manner Christ was made sin ? In the very same manner we are made right- eousness. Christ knew no actual sin ; yet upon his mediatorial interposition on our be- half, he was treated by divine justice as a sinful person. We likewise are destitute of all legal righteousness, yet upon our receiv- ing Christ, and believing in his name, we are regarded by the divine Majesty as right- eous creatures- This, therefore, cannot, in either case, be intrinsically, but must be, in both instances, imputatively. Gracious, di- vinely-gracious exchange ! pregnant with amazing goodness, and rich with inestima- ble benefits. The incessant triumph of the strong and sovereign consolation of the weak believer. Cease your exultation, cries one, and come down from your altitudes. The term used in this verse denotes, not so propeily Kin, as an offering for sin. — Tills is a mere supposal, which I may as reasonably deny as another affirm. Since the word occurs much more frequently in the former signifi- cation than in the latter ; and since, by giving it the latter signification in the passage before us, we very much impair, if not totally destroy, the apostle's beautiful antithesis. However, not to contend, but to allow the remark ; I borrow my reply from a brave old champion* for the truths of the gospel : " This text,'' says he, " invincibly proveth, that we are not justified in God's sight by righteousness inherent in us, but by the righteousness of Christ imputed to us through faith." After which he adds, what I make my answer to the objection, " that Christ was made sin for us, because he was a sacrifice for sin, we must confess; but there- fore was he a sacrifice for sin, because our sin was imputed to him, and punished in him." The poor delinquents under the Mosaic dis- pensation, who brought their sin-offering to the altar of the Lord, were directed to lay their hand on the devoted beast ; signify- ing, by this usage, the transferring of guilt from the offerer to the sacrifice. Conforma- bly to the import of this ceremony, Christ assumed our demerit ; like a true piacular victim, suffered the punishment which we had deserved ; and which, without such a commutation, we must have undergone. So that our Lord's being made a sin-off"er- ing for us, does by no means invalidate, but very much confirm our doctrine. It ne- cessarily implies the translation of our ini- quity to his person ; and, on the principles of analogy, must infer the imputation of his righteousness to our souls. One passage more permit me to trans- cribe into my paper, and, at the same time to wish that it may be written on both our hearts ; written not with ink and pen, no, nor with the point of a diamond, but with the finger of theliving God. "Yea, doubtless, and I count all things but loss for the excellency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord ; for whom I have suff'ered the loss of all things, and do count them but dung, that I may win Christ, and be found in him ; not having mine own righteousness, which is of the law, but that which is through the faith of Christ, the righteousness which is of God through faith." Phil. iii. 8. 9. Be pleased to observe, that in this con- fession of faith, and with reference to the case of justification, theapostie renounces all * See Dr. Fulk's annotation on the place, in that valuable piece of ancient controversy and criticism, "The Examination of the Rhemish Testament." Which, though not altogether so elegant and refined in the language, nor so delicate ana genteel in the manner, as might be wished, is nevertheless full of sound divinity, weiihty arguments, and important observations. — Would the young student be taught to discover the very sinews of Popery, and be enabled to give an effectual blow to that complication of er- rors, I scarce know a treatise better calculated for the purpose. LETTER V. 349 tftose acts of supposed righteousness which wereantecedent to his conversion. Nor does he repudiate them only, but all those more ex- cellent services by which he was so eminently distinguished, even after his attachment to Christ, and engagement in the Christian min- istry. As though he should say, " The privi- lege of being a Hebrew by birth ; the preroga- tive of being a Pharisee by profession ; to- gether with a behaviour exemplary, and a reputation unblamable ; all these, which were once reckoned my highest gain, as soon as I became acquainted with the glorious perfections of Christ, ' I counted* loss for him.' And now, though I have been a dis- ciple many years ; have walked in all holy conversation and godliness; have endured for my divine Master's name tribulations above measure ; have laboured more abun- dantly, and more successfully, than all the apostles ; yet even these, and all other at- tainments, of what kind or of what date so- ever, I countf but loss, for the transcendent excellency of Christ Jesus my Lord. ' Yea doubtless ;'l it is my deliberate and stead- fast resolution ; what I have most seriously adopted, and do publicly avow, that, speci- ous as all these acquirements may seem, and valuable as they may be in other respects, I reckon them but dung, that I may win Christ. § They fade into nothing, they dwindle into less than nothing, if set in com- petition with his matchless obedience ; and were they to supersede my application to his merits, or weaken my reliance on his mediation, they would not be contemptible only, but injurious — irreparably injurious — lose itself." You will ask. If he rejects all his own righteousness, on what are his hopes fixed ? On a foundation, extensive as the obedience of the Redeemer's life and death, unshaken • Hytiftai, " I have counted." i* HyUf^ai, relates to the present time, and com- prehends present attainments, " I do count." — Not some, or the greatest part, but "all things." What ? Is a course of sobriety, and the exercise of morality, to be reckoned as dung ? All things, says the apostle. What ? Is our most elevated devotion, and enlarged obedience to be degraded at this monstrous rate ? All things, says the apostle. This is his invariable reply. And we may venture to affirm, that he had the mind of Christ. i Perhaps aXXcc fiivouvyi may be translated, "but truly." As if he had said, " But why should I men- tion any more particulars ? In truth, I count all things," &c. Tuv *f j5>ja'4i — plainly imply this comparative or rela- tive sense. Virtues, which are the fruits of the Spirit, and labours, which are a blessing to mankind, must not be reckoned absolutely or in all respects despica- ble; but only in a limited and qualified acceptation : despicable not in themselves, but as compared with the divinely perfect righteousness of Christ, or as re- ferred to the infinitely important article of justifica- tion. That Aspasio, in this whole paragraph, speaks the sense of our church, will appear from the following extract : — " For the apostle, St. Paul, saith, He doth glory in what ? In the contempt of his own righteous- nets,and that he looketh for the righteousness of God toy faith."— Homi/y of Salvation, part 2. as the dignity of his eternal power and God- head. They are fixed on " the righteous- ness which is of God ;" the righteousness which God the Father, in unsearchable wis- dom, provided ; and which God the Son, in unutterable goodness wrought. Do you in- quire how he came to be invested with this righteousness ? The answer is ready and satisfactory. It was by the application of the divine Spirit, and the instrumentality of faith. Lest any should imagine that this faith might be substituted instead of his own obedience to the law, he puts an apparent difference between the righteousness which justifies, and the faith by which it is receiv- ed ; not the righteousness which consists in, but is " through the faith of Christ." To show the great importance of this distinc- tion, how earnestly he insisted upon it as a preacher, how much it tended to his conso- lation as a Christian, he repeats the senti- ment, he reinculcates the doctrine, " the righteousness which is of God by faith." Will you now, Theron, or shall I, poor unprofitable creatures, presume to rely on any performances or any accomplishments of our own, when that distinguished saint, — a perfect prodigy of gifts, of graces, and of zeal, — indefatigable in labours, unconquera- ble by afflictions, and of whose usefulness there is neither measure nor end ; — when he denies himself in every view, depreciates all, disavows all, and makes mention of no- thing but the incomparable righteousness of his " obedient, dying, interceding Saviour ?" What shall I say more ? Shall I attempt to play the rhetorician, and borrow the in- sinuating arts of persuasion? This, after all the cogent testimonies produced, and all the great authorities urged, would be a need- less parade. When our pen is a sunbeam, there is but little occasion to dip it in oil. Instead of such an attempt, give me leave to make a frank and honest confes- sion. I would conceal nothing from my friend. He should have a sash to my breast : throw it up at his pleasure ; and see all that passes within. — Though I never had any temptation to that pernicious set of errors, which passes under the character of Socin- ianism, yet I had many searchings of heart, and much solicitous inqiiirv, how far we are indebted to Christ's active righteousness. Thoroughly persuaded, that " other founda- tion can no man lay, save that which is laid, even Jesus Christ," 1 Cor. iii. 11, and that " there is no other name give,n under heaven, whereby men can be saved " Acts iv. 12, yet, whether we were not to confine our believing regards to a dying Sa\iour, was matter of considerable doubt. At first, I was inclined to acquiesce in the af- firmative. After long consideration and many prayers, my faith fixed upon the whole of Christ's mediatorial undertaking ; which 350 THERON AND ASPASIO. bpgim m his spontaneous submission to the law, was canied on through all his me- ritorious life, and issued in his atoning death. This is now the basis of ray con- fidence, and the,bulwark of my happiness. Hither I fly ; here I rest ; as the dove, af- ter her wearisome and fruitless rovings, re- turned to Noah, and rested in the ark. This scheme first recommended itself to my affections, as making the most ample provision^ for the security and repose of a guilty conscience ; which, when alarmed by the accusations of sin, is veiy appre- hensive of its condition ; and will not be comforted, till every scruple is satisfied, and all the obstructions to its peace are re- moved. Thus I reasoned with myself: " Though [there is undoubtedly something to be said for the other side of the ques- tion, yet this is evidently the safest me- thod. And, in an afl!air of infinite conse- quence, \vho would not prefer the safest expedient ? Should the righteousness of Jesus Christ be indispensably requisite as a wedding-garment, what will they do, when the great immortal King appears, who have refused to accept it ? whereas, should it not prove so absolutely necessary, yet such a dependence can never obstruct our salvation. It can never be charged upon us as an article of contumacy or per- verseness, that we thought too meanly of our own, too magnificently of our Lord's obedience. So that, let the die turn either way, we are exposed to no hazard. This scheme takes in idl that the other systems comprehend, and abundantly more. In this I find no defect, no flaw, no shadow of insufficiency. It is somewhat like the perfect cube, which, wherever it may be thrown, or however it may fall, is sure to settle upon its base. Supposing, therefore, the important beam shoidd hang in equili- brium with respect to argument, these cir- cumstances cast into the scale may very justly be allowed to turn the balance." Upon a more attentive examination of the subject, I perceived, that this is the doctrine of our national church ; is en- forced by the attestation of our ablest di- vines ; and has been in all ages the conso- lation of the most eminent saints : That it is the genuine sense of scriptmre, and not some inferior or subordinate point, inciden- tally touched upon by the inspired %vriters, but the sum and substance* of their hea- * This doctrine runs through St. Paul's writings, like a golden warp. While privileges, blessings, and evangelical duties are like a woof, (if I may allude to the ornaments of the sanctuary,) of blue, of purple, of scarlet, and indeed of every jjleasant colour. 'l"he righteousness of God, Rom i. I7. The righteousness from God, Phil. iii. 10. Righteousness by faith, Romiii. 22. Righteousness of faith, Rom. iv. 11. Righteousness without the law, Rom. iii. 21. Right- eousness without works, Rom. iv. G. Righteousness in the blood of Christ, Rom. v. !t. Righteousness by the obedience of Christ, Rom. v. 19. Righteousness venly message ; that which constitntes the vitals of their system, and is the very soul of their religion. On which account, the whole gospel is denominated from it, and styled " the ministration of righteousness." I was farther convinced, that this way of salvation magnifies, beyond compare, the divine law ; is no less honourable to all the divine attributes ; and exhibits the ever- blessed Mediator in the most illustrious and the most delightful view. All these con- siderations, under the influence of the eter- nal Spirit, have determined my judgment, and established my faith. So that, I trust, neither the subtOties of wit, nor the sneers of ridicule, nor any other artifice, shall ever be able to separate me from the grace and righteousness which are in Jesus Christ. Let me now, by way of conclusion, re- view that awful subject which introduced the letter. Let me suppose the Judge, who " is at the door," actually come ; the great and terrible day, which is hasting for- ward, really commenced. — Hark ! the trumpet sounds the universal summons. The living are struck with a death-like as- tonishment ; the dead start from their silent abodes. See, the whole earth takes fire; the sun is turned into darkness ; and the stars fall from their spheres ! Behold, the Lord Jesus comes with myriads of his angels ! The judgment is set, and the books are o])ened. Observe those exemplary Christians, whose sentiments I have been collecting. They renounce themselves, and rely on their glorious Surety. Methinks I hear them say, each as they quit their beds of dust : " I will go forth from the grave in thy strength, O blessed Jesus ; and at the de- cisive tribunal will make mention of thy righteousness only." At the same time will you, Theron, or shall I, stand forth and declare, before the innumerable multi- tude of anxious sinners and adoring seraphs, " Let those ])usillanimous creatiu-es fly for refuge to their Saviour's righteousness. We will confide in works, in accomplishments of our own. We are the men ^^'ho have i)er- sonally kept the divine law, and want no supposititious obedience from another. Let the eye that glances through immensity, and penetrates the recesses of the heart; let that holy and omniscient eye, examine our temper, and sift our conduct- We are bold to risk our souls, and all their immortal in- terests, on the issue of such a scrutiny." Perhaps, your mind is impressed with this solemn scene, and your thoughts recoil at such daring presumption. If so, it will be proper for me to withdraw, and leave you to your o\\ti meditations. At such mo- not our own, Phil. iii. 9- Righteousness imputed by God, Rom. iv. 6, 10, 22. LETTER VI. 351 ments to obtnide on yotir company, would render me the troublesome and officious, rather than The respectful and affectionate ASPASIO. LETTER VI. Theron to Aspasio. Dear Aspasio. — The last evenino^ was one of the finest I ever saw. Accordmg to my custom, I made an excursion into the open fields, and wanted nothing to complete the satisfaction, but my friend's company. I could not but observe how much your im- proving conversation heightened the cliarms of nature. When religion applied philoso- phy, every thing was instructive, as well as pleasing. Not a breeze swept over the plains, to clear the sky and cool the air, but it tended also to disperse our doubts, and enlivenour faith in the supreme all-sufficient good. Not a cloud tinged the firmament with radiant colours, or amused the sight with romantic shapes, but we beheld a pic- ture of the present world— of its fading ac- quisitions and fantastic joys — in the mimic forms and the transitory scene. Even the weakest of the insect tribe, that skim the air in sportive silence, addressed us with the strongest incitements, and gave us the loud- est calls to be active in our day, and useful in our generation. They cried, at least when you lent them your tongue, Such is vain life, an idle flight of days, A still delusive round of sickly joys; A scene of little cares, and triHing passions, If not ennobled by the deeds of virtue. How often, at the approach of sober eve, have we stole along the cloisters of a se- questered bower, attentive to the tale of some queridous current, that seemed to be struck with horror at the awful gloom, and complained with heavier murmurs, as it passed under the blackening shades, and along the root-obstructed channel ! Or else, far from the babbling brook, and softly tread- ing the grassy path, we listened to the nightingale's song; while every gale held its breath, and all the leaves forbore their motion, that they might neither drown nor intemipt the melodious wo. From both which pensive strains, you endeavoured to temper and chastise the exuberant gaiety of my spirits. You convinced me, that true joy is a serious thing, is the child of sedate thought, not the spawn of intemperate mirth ; nursed, not by the sallies of disso- lute merriment, but by the exercise of serene contemplation. Sometimes, at the gladsome return of morn, we have ascended an airy eminence, and hailed the new-bom day ; and followed, with our delighted eye, the mazes of some glittering stream. Here, rushing with im- petuous fury from the mountain's side, foaming over the rifted rocks, and roaring down the craggy steep ; impatient, as it were, to get free from such rugged paths, and mingle with the beauties of the lower vale : 'There, slackening its headlong ca- reer, and smoothing its eddies into an even flow : While, deep embosomed in the ver- dant mead, it glides through the cherished and smiling herbage ; sometimes lost amidst closing willows ; sometimes emerging with fresh beauty from the leafy covert ; always roving with an air of amorous complacency, as though it would caress the fringed banks, and flowery glebe. Reminded by this wa- tery monitor, of that constancy and vigour with which the affections should move to- wards the great centre of happiness, Christ Jesus ; of that determined ardour with which we should break through the entan- glements of temptation, and obstacles of the world, in order to reach our everlasting rest; and of the mighty difference between the turbulent, the frothy, the precipitate gratifications of vice, and the calm, the sub- stantial, the permanent delights of religion. Or else, with eager view, we have sur- veyed the extensive prospect, and wandered over all the magnificence of things — an end- less variety of graceful objects and delight- ful scenes ! each soliciting our chief regard ; every one worthy of our whole attention ; all conspiring to touch the heart with a min- gled transport of wonder, of gratitude, and of joy. So that we have returned from our rural expedition, not as the spendthrift from the gaming table, cursing his stars, and rav- ing at his ill luck, gulled out of his money, and the derided dupe of sharjiers ; not as the libertine from the house of wantonness, surfeited with a rank debauch, dogged by shame, goaded by remorse, with a thousand recent poisons tingling in his veins. But we retiu-ned as ships ofcommerce from the gold- en continent, or the spicy islands, with new accessions of sublime improvement and so- lid pleasure ; with a deeper veneration for the Almighty Creator ; with a warmer sense of his unspeakable favours ; and with a more inflamed desire " to know him now by faith, and after this life to have the fruition of his glorious Godhead." Sometimes, with an agreeable relaxation, we have transferred our cares from the wel- fare of the nation to the flom-ishing of the farm ; and instead of enacting regulations for the civil community, we have planned schemes for the cultivation of our ground and the prosperity of our cattle. Instead of attending to the course of fleets, and the destination of armies, we have directed the plough where to rend the grassy turf, or taught the honeysuckle to wind round the 852 THERON AND ASPASIO- arbour, and the jessamine to climb upon the wall. Instead of interposing our friendly offices to reconcile contending kingdoms, we have formed a treaty of coalition between the stranger scion, and the adopting tree ; and, by the remarkable melioration of the ensuing fmit, demonstrated (would contend- ing empires regard the precedent !) what ad- vantages flow from pacific measures and an amicable union. Instead of unravelling the labyrinths of state, and tracing the finesses of foreign courts, we have made ourselves acquainted with the politics of nature, and observed how wonderfully, how mysterious- ly, that great projectress acts. In this place she rears a vast trunk, and unfolds a mid- tiplicity of branches from one small berry. She qualifies, by her amazing operations, a few contemptible acorns, that were former- ly carried in a child's lap, to bear the British thunder round the globe, and secure to our island the sovereignty of the ocean. In an- other place she produces, from a dry grain, •' first the green blade ; then the turgid ear ; afterwards the full grown and ripened corn in the ear," Mark iv. 28 ; repaying, with exact punctuality, and with lavish usuiy, the husbandman's toil, and the husbandman's loan ; causing, by a most surprising resurrec- tion, the death of one seed to be fruitful in the birth of hundreds. But I forget your caution, Aspasio ; for- get how kindly you have checked me, when I have been haranguing upon, I know not what, powers and works of nature ; whereas it is God who " worketh hitherto," John V. 17, who to this day exerts, and to the end of time will exert, that secret but unre- mitted energy, which is the life of this ma- jestic system, and the cause of all its stu- pendous operations. Let this show you how much I want my guide, my philoso- pher, and friend. Without his prompting aid, my genius is dull, my reflections are awkward ; and my religious improvements jejune ; somewhat like the bungling imita- tions of the tool, compared with the mas- terly effects of vegetation. However, I will proceed ; yet not from any view of inform- ing my Aspasio, but only to draw a bill upon his pen, and lay him under an obli- gation to enrich me with another letter upon the grand and excellent subject of his last. Art is dim-sighted in her plans, and de- fective even in her most elaborate essays. But Nature, or rather Nature's sublime Au- thor, is indeed a designer, and " a workman that need not be ashamed." 2 Tim. ii. 15. His eye strikes out ten thousand elegant models, and his touch executes all with in- imitable perfection. What an admirable specimen is here of the divine skill and of the divine goodness ! This terraqueous globe is intended not only for a place of habita- tion, but for a storehouse of conveniences. If we examine the several apartments of our great abode, if we take a general inven- tory of our common goods, we shall find the utmost reason to be charmed with the displays, both of nice economy, and of boundless profusion. Observe the surface of this universal messuage. The ground, coarse as it may seem, and trodden by every foot, is never- theless the laboratory where the most exqui- site operations are performed ; the shop, if I may so speak, where the finest manufac- tures are wrought. Though a multitude of generations have always been accommodat- ed, and though a multitude of nations are daily supplied by its liberalities, it still con- tinues inexhausted — is a resource that never fails, a magazine never to be drained. The unevenness of the ground, far from being a blemish or a defect, heightens its beauty, and augments its usefulness. Here it is scooped into deep and sheltered vales, almost constantly covered with a spontane- ous growth of verdure, which, all tender and succulent, composes an easy couch, and yields the most agreeable fodder for the va- rious tribes of cattle. There it is extended into a wide, open, champaign country, which, annually replenished with the husbandman's seed, shoots into a copious harvest ; a har- vest, not only of that principal wheat which is the staff of our life, and strengthens our heart, but of the " appointed barley," Isaiah xxviii. 25, and various other sorts of grain, which yield an excellent food for our ani- mals, and either enable them to despatch our drudgery, or else fatten their flesh for our tables. The furrows, obedient to the will of man, vary their produce. They bring forth a crop of tall, flexile, slender plants," whose thin filmy coat, dried, attenuated, and skill- fully manufactured, transforms itself into some of the most necessary accommodations of life, and genteelest embellishments of so- ciety. It is wove into ample volumes of cloth, which, fixed to the mast, gives wings to our ships, and wafts them to the extre- mities of the ocean. It is twisted into vast lengths of cordage, which add nerves to the crane, and lend sinews to the pidley ; or else, adhering to the anchor, they fasten the ves- sel even on the fluctuating element, and se- cure its station even amidst driving tem- pests. It furnishes the duchess with her costly head-dress, and delicately fine ruflies. No less strong than neat, it supplies the ploughman with his coarse frock, and the sailor with his clumsy trowsers. Its fibres, artfully arranged by the operations of the loom, cover our tables with a gracefid ele- gance, and surround our bodies with a cher- » Flax and hemp. LETTER VI. 353 ishing warmth. On this the painter spreads the colours which enchant the eye ; in this the merchant packs the wares which enrich the world. Yonder the hills, like a grand amphitheatre, arise. Amphitheatre ! All the pompous works of Roman magnificence are less than mole-banks, are mere cockle-shells, com- pared with those majestic elevations of the earth. Some clad with mantling vines ; some crowned with towering cedars ; some ragged with misshapen rocks, or yawning with subterraneous dens., whose rough and inaccessible crags, whose hideous and gloomy cavities, are not only a continual refuge for the wild goats, but have often proved an asylum to pereecuted merit,* and a safeguard to the most valuable lives. At a greater distance, the mountains lift their frozen brows, or penetrate the clouds with their aspiring peaks. Their frozen brows arrest the roving, and condense the rarified vapours. Their caverned boAvels collect the dripping treasures, and send them abroad in gradual communications by trick- ling springs ; while their steep sides preci pitate the watery stores, rolling them on with such a forcible impulse,f that they never intermit their unwearied course till they have swept through the most exten sive climes, and regained their native seas. The \ineyard swells into a profusion of clusters, some tinged with the deepest pur- ple, and delicately clouded with azure ; some clad with a whitish transparent skin, which shows the tempting kernels, lodged in lus cious nectar. The vine requires a strong reflection of the sunbeams, and a very large proportion of warmth. How commodiously do the hills and mountains minister to this purpose ! May we not call those vast decli- vities the garden-walls of nature ? which, far more effectually than the most costly glasses, or most artful green-houses, con centrate the solar heat, and complete the ma. turity of the grape, distending it with liquor * To David from Saul's malice ; to Elijah from Jezebel's vengeance ; to many of the primitive Christ- ians from the rage of persecuting emperors; " They wandered in deserts and in mountains, in dens and caves of the earth." Heb. xi. 38. + It is observed, that the largest rivers in the world those which roll the heaviest burden of waters, and perform the most extensi vecircuit through the nations, generally take their rise from the mountains. The Rhine, the Rhone, and the Po, all descend from the Alps. The Tigris derives its rapid flood from the everlasting snows and steep ridges of Niphates. And to mention no more instances, the river Amazones, which pours itself through a multitude of provinces, and waters near eighteen hundred leagues of land, has its urn in the caverns, and its impetus from the pre- cipices of that immense range of hills, the Andes. If the reader is inclined to see the origin and forma- tion of rivers described in all the sublimity of dic- tion, and with all the graces of poetry, he may find tliis entertainment in Mr. Thomson's autumn, line 7fJl, last edit. Amazing Scene ! behold the glooms disclose, I see the rivers in their infant beds ! Deep, deep I hear them, lab'ring to get free, &c. of the finest scent, the most agreeable relish, and the most exalted qualities ! such as dis- sipate sadness, and inspire vivacity ; such as make glad the heart of man, and most sweetly prompt both his gratitude and his duty to the munificent Giver. I grieve and I blush for my fellow- creatures, that any shoidd abuse this indulgence of heaven, that any should turn so valuable a gift of God into an instrument of sin — tuni the most exhilar- ating of cordials into poison, madness, and death. The kitchen-garden presents us with a new train of benefits. In its blooming or- naments, what unaffected beauty ! In its culinary productions, what diversified riches ! It ripens a multitude of nutrimental esculents, and almost an equal abundance of medicinal herbs, distributing refreshments to the healthy and administering remedies to the sict The orchard, all fair and ruddy, and bowing down beneath its own delicious burden, gives us a fresh demonstration of our Creator's kind- ness ; regales us first mth all the delicacies of summer-fruits ; next, with the more last- ing succession of autumnal dainties. What is nature but a series of wonders, and a fund of delights ! That such a variety of fruits, so beautifully coloured, so elegant- ly shaped, and so charmingly flavoured, should arise from the earth, than which no- thing is more insipid, sordid, and despicable, I am struck with pleasing astonishment at the cause of these fine effects, and no less surprised at the manner of bringing them in- to existence. I take a walk in my garden, or a turn through my orchard, in the month of December : There stand several logs of wood fastened to the ground. They are erect, indeed, and shapelj', but without either sense or motion : No human hand will touch them, no human aid will succour them; yet, in a little time they are beautified with blossoms, they are covered mth leaves, and at last are loaded with mellow treasures, with the downy peach and the polished plumb ; with the musky apicrot, and the juicy pear, v> ith the cherry, and its coral pendents, glowing I through lattices of green ; -and dark Beneath her ample leaf, the luscious I have wondered at the structure of my watch ; wondered more at the description of the silk-mills ; most of all at the accoimt of those prodigious engines invented by Ar- chimedes. But what are all the inventions of all the geometricians and mechanics in the world, compared with these inconceiv- ably nice automata* of nature ! These self- operating machines despatch their business with a punctuality that never mistakes, with « Automata, or self operating machines, not meant to set aside the superintendency of Providence, but only to exclude the co-operation of man. 2 A 354 THERON AND ASPASIO. a dexterity that cannot be equalled. In spriiiff they clothe themselves with such un- studied, but exquisite finery, as far exceeds the embroidery of the needle, or the labours of the loom. In autumn, they present us with such a collation of sweetmeats, and such blandishments of taste, as surpass all that the most critical luxury could prepare, or the most lavish fancy imagine. So that those coarse and senseless logs first decorate the divine creation, then perform the hon- ours of the table. If, amidst these ordinaiy productions of the earth, God appears so " great in coun- sel, and mighty in work," Jer. xxxii. 1 9, what may we expect to see in the palaces of heaven, in the hierarchies of angels, and in that wonderful Redeemer who is, beyond all other objects, beyond all other manifes- tations, the " wisdom of God, and the pow- er of God?" 1 Cor. i. 24. The forest rears myriads of massy bodies, which, though neither gay with blossoms, nor rich with fruit, supply us with timber of various kinds, and of every desirable quality. But who shall cultivate such huge trees, diffused over so vast a space? The toil were endless. See, therefore, the all-wise and ever-gracious ordination of Providence. They are so constituted, that they have no need of the spade and the pruning-knife. N&y, the little cares of man would diminish, rather than augment their dignity and their usefulness. The more they are neglected, the better they thrive, the more wildly grand and magnificent they grow. When felled by the axe, they are sawed into beams, and sustain the roofs of our houses ; they are fashioned into carriages, and serve for the conveyance of the heaviest loads. Their substance so pliant, that they yield to the chisel of the turner, and are smoothed by the plane of the joiner; are wrought into the nicest diminutions of shape, and compose some of the finest branches of household furniture. Their texture so so- lid, that they form the most important parts of those mighty engines which, adapting themselves to the play of mechanic powers, despatch moie work in a single hour than could otherwise be accomplished in many days. At the same time, their pressure is so light that they float upon the waters, and glide along the surface, almost with as much agility as the tinny fry glance through the deep. Thus, while they impart magnifi- cence to architecture, and bestow number- less conveniencies on the family, they con- stitute the very basis of navigation, and give expedition, give being, to commerce. Amidst the inaccessible depths of the forests, a habitation is assigned for tliose ravenous beasts, whose appearance would be frightful, and their neighbourhood dan- gerous to mankind. Here the sternly ma- jestic lion rouses himself from his den, stalks through the midnight shades, and awes the savage herd with his roar. Here the fiery tiger springs upon his prey, and the gloomy bear trains up her whelps. Here the swift leopard ranges, and the grim wolf prowls, and both in quest of murder and blood. Were these horrid animals to dwell in our fields, what havoc would they make ? what consternation would they spread ? But they voluntarily bury them- selves in the deepest recesses of the desert ; while the ox, the horse, and the serviceable quadrupeds, live under our inspection, and keep within our call ; profiting us as much by their presence, as the others oblige us by their absence. If at any time those shaggy monsters make an excursion into the habitable world, it is when man retires to his chamber, and sleeps in security. The sun, which invites other creatures abroad, gives them the sig- nal to retreat. " The sun ariseth, and they get them away, and lay them down in their dens." Psalm civ. 22. Strange ! that the orient light, which is so pleasing to us, should strike such terror on them I should, more effectually than a legion of guards, put them all to flight, and clear the country of those formidable enemies ! If we turn our thoughts to the atmos- phere, we find a most curious and exquisite apparatus of air, which, because no object of our sight, is seldom observed, and little regarded ; yet is a source of innumerable advantages ; and all these advantages (which is almost incredible) are fetched from the very jaws of ruin. My meaning may be obscure, therefore I explain myself. We live plunged, if I may so speak, in an ocean of air, whose pressure, upon a per- son of moderate size, is equal to the weight of twenty thousand pounds. Tremendous consideration ! Should the ceiling of a room, or the roof of a house, fall upon us with half that force, what destructive effects must ensue ! Such a force would infallibly drive the breath from our lungs, or break every bone in our bodies- Yet so admirably has the divine wisdom contrived this aerial fluid, and so nicely counterpoised its dread- ful power, that we receive not the slightest hurt — we suffer no manner of inconveni- ence— we even enjoy the load. Instead of being as a mountain on our loins, it is like wings to our feet, or like sinews to our limbs. Is not this common ordination of Providence, thus considered, somewhat like the miracle of the burning bush, whose ten- der and combustible substance, though ir the midst of flames, was neither consumed nor injured ? Exod. iii. 2. Is it not almost as marvellous as the prodigy of the three Hebrew youths, who walked in the fiery furnace without haviui' a hair of their heads LETTER VI. 355 singed, or so much as the smell of fire pass- ing on their garments ? Dan. iii. 27. Sure- ly we have reason to say unto God, " O ! Low terrible," yet how beneficent, " art thou in thy works." The air, though too weak to support our flight, is a thoroughfare for innumerable wings. Here the whole commonwealth of birds take up their abode. Here they lodge and expatiate beyond the reach of their ad- versaries. Were they to run upon the earth, they would be exposed to ten thousand dan- gers, without proper strength to resist them, or sufficient speed to escape them ; whereas, by mounting the skies, and " lifting them- selves up on high, they are secure from peril ; they scorn the horse and his rider." Job xxxix. 18. Some of them perching upon the boughs, others soaring amidst the firmament, entertain us with their notes ; which are musical and agreeable when heard at this convenient distance, but would be noisy and importunate, if brought nearer to our ears. Here many of those feathered families reside, which yield us a delicious treat, yet give us no trouble, put us to no expense, and, till the moment we want them, are wholly out of our way. The air, commissioned by its all-bounti- ful Author, charges itself with the adminis- tration of several offices, which are perfectly obliging, and no less serviceable to mankind. Co-operating with our lungs, it ventilates the blood, and refines our fluids. It quali- fies and attempers the vital warmth, pro- motes and exalts the animal secretions. Many days we might live, or even whole months, without the light of the sun, or the glimmering of a star ; whereas, if we are deprived, only for a few minutes, of this aerial support, we sicken, we faint, we die. The same universal nurse has a considera- ble share in cherishing the several tribes of plants. It helps to transfuse vegetable vigour into the trunk of the oak, and a blooming gaiety into the spread of the rose. The air undertakes to convey to oiu: nos- trils the extremely subtile effluvia which transpire from odoriferous bodies. Those detached particles are so imperceptibly small, that they would elude the most careful hand, or escape the nicest eye. But this trusty depositary receives and escorts the invisible vagrants, without losing so much as a single atom : entertaining us, by this means, with the delightful sensations which arise from the fragrance of flowers ; and admonishing us, by the transmission of the ofltnsive smells, to withdraw from an unwholesome situation, or beware of any pernicious food. The air, by its undulating motion, con- ducts to our ear all the diversities of sound, and thereby discharges the duty of a most seasonable and faithfid monitor. As I walk across the streets of London, withiny eye engaged on othef objects, a dray, per- haps, with all its load, is driving down di- rectly upon me; or, as I ride along the road, musing and unapprehensive, a chariot and six is whirling on, with a rapid career, at the heels of my horse. The air, like a vi- gilant friend in pain for my welfare, imme- diately takes the alarm ; and, while the dan- ger is at a considerable distance, despatches a courier to advertise me of the approaching mischief. It even thunders in my ear ; and with a clamorous but kind importunity, urges to be upon my guard, and provide for my safety. The air wafts to our sense the modu- lations of music, and the more agreeable en- tertainments of refined conversation. When Myrtilla strikes the silver strings, and teaches the willing harpsicord to warble with her Creator's praise; when her sacred sonata warms the heart with devotion, and wings our desire to heaven : — when Cleora tunes her song, or the nightingale imitates her enchanting voice ; when she heightens every melodious note with her adored Re- deemer's , name ; and so smooths her charming tones, so breathes her rapturous soul, "that God's own ear hstens delighted :" when wisdom takes its seat on Mitio's tongue, and flows in perspicuous periods and instructive truths, amidst the chosen circle of his acquaintance ; — when benevo- lence, associated with persuasion, dwell on Nicander's lips, and plead the cause of in- jured innocence or oppressed virtue : when goodness, leagued with happiness, accom- pany Eusebius into the pulpit, and reclaim the liberthie from the slavery of his vices, disengage the infidel from the fascina- ation of his prejudices, and so affectionate- ly, so pathetically invite the whole audience to partake the unequalled joys of pure reli- gion ;— in all these cases, the air distributes every musical variation with the utmost ex- actness, and delivers the speaker's message with the most punctual fidelity ! Whereas without this internuncio, all would be sul- len and unmeaning silence. We should lose both the pleasure and the profit ; neither be charmed \vith the harmonious, nor improved by the articulate accents. The breezes of the air, when vague and unconfined, are so very gentle, that they sport with the most inofltnsive wantonness amidst Ophelia's locks, and scarce disajust a single curl. But, when collected and ap- plied by the contrivance of man, they act with such prodigious force, as is sufficient to whirl round the hugest wheels, though clogged with the most encumbering loads ; They make the ponderous millstones move as swiftly as the dancer's heel, and the massy beams play as nimbly as the musi- cian's finger. If we climb in speculation the higher re- 356 THERON AND ASPASIO. gions, we find an endless succession of clouds, fe d by evaporations from the ocean. The clouds theraselves are a kind of ocean, suspended in the air with amazing skill. They travel in detached parties, and in the quality of itinerant cisterns, round all the terrestrial globe. They fructify, by proper communications of moisture, the spacious pastures of the wealthy, and gladden, with no less liberal showers, the cottager's little spot. Nay, so condescending is the benignity of their great Proprietor, that they " satisfy the desolate and waste ground ; and cause, even in the most uncultivated wilds, the bud of the tender herb to spring forth," Job xxxviii. 27, that the natives of the lonely desert, those savage herds which know no master's stall, may nevertheless ex- perience the care, and rejoice in the bounty of an all-supporting parent. How wonderful ! that the water, which is much denser and far heavier than the air, shoidd rise into it, make its way through it, and take a station in the very uppermost regions of it ! This, one would imagine, were almost as impossible as for the rivers to run back to their source. Yet Provi- dence has contrived a way to render it not only practicable, but matter of continual oc- currence. How wonderful ! that pendent lakes should be diffused, or fluent mountains heap- ed over our heads ; and both sustained in the thinnest parts of the atmosphere ? We little think of that surprising expedient, which, without conduits of stone, or vessels of brass, keeps such loads of water in a buoyant state. Job and Elihu considered this, and were struck with holy admiration. " Dost thou know the balancings of the clouds ?" how such ponderous bodies are made to hang with an even poise, and hover like the lightest down ? " These are the wondrous works of him who is perfect in knowledge," Job xxxvii. 16. "Hebindeth up the waters in his thick clouds, and the cloud," though nothing is more loose and fluid, becomes, by his almighty order, strong and tenacious as casks of iron : it " is not rent," Job xxvi. 8, under all the weight. When the sluices are opened, and the wa- ters descend, we might reasonably suspect that they should burst forth in cataracts, or pour out themselves in torrents. Whereas, instead of such a disorderly and precipitate effusion, which would be infinitely perni- cious, they coalesce into globules, and are dispensed in gentle showers. They are of- ten attenuated into the smallness of a hair,* they spread themselves, as if they were * The Hebrew words, wliich convey the ides of gentle rain, signify a portion of water, made small as a hair, or diviUtd into millions of parts, Deut. XXXII. 2. stjained through the orifices of the finest watering-pot, and form those " small drops of rain, which the clouds distil upon man abundantly," Job xiixvi. 28. Thus, instead of drowning the earth, and sweeping away its fruits, they cherish universal nature, and in conformity to the practice of their great Master, distribute their humid stores to men, to animals and vegetables, " as they ai'e able to bear them," Mark iv. 33. Besides the reservoirs of water, here are cantoned various parts of winds, mild or fierce, gentle or boisterous, furnished with breezy wings, to fan the glowing firmament, and diffuse refreshment on a fainting world ; or else fitted to act as an universal besom, and, by sweeping the chambers of the at- mosphere, to preserve the fine aerial fluid free from feculencies. Without this whole- some agency of the winds, the air woidd stagnate, become putrid, and surround us, in the literal sense of the words, "with darkness that might be felt." Exod. x. 21. London, Paris, and all the gi'eat cities in the world, instead of being the seats of ele- gance, would degenerate into sinks of cor- ruption. At sea, the winds swell the mariner's sails, and speed his course along the watery way ; speed it far more effectually than a thousand rowers, bending to their strokes, and tugging at the oar. By land, they per- form the office of an immense seedman, and scatter abroad the reproductive principles of a multitude of plants, which, though the staff of life to many animals, are too small for the management, or too mean for the attention of man. " He bringeth the winds out of his treasuries," Psalm cxxxv. 7, is a very just observation, whether it relate to God's absolute and uncontrollable dominion over this most potent meteor, or to its wel- come and salutary influence on all the face of nature. Here are lightnings stationed. Though dormant at present, they are in act to spring, and launch the livid flame, whenever their piercing flash is necessary to destroy the sulphureous vapours, or dislodge any other noxious matter which might be prejudicial to the delicate temperature of the ether, and obscure its more crystalline transparency. Above all is situate a radiant and majestic orb, which enlightens the tracts, cheers the inhabitants, and colours all the productions of this habitable globe. While the air, by a singular address in managing the rays, amplifies their usefulness, its reflecting pow- er* augments that heat, which is the life of * The air is a curious cover, which, without op- pressing the inhabitants of the earth with any per- ceivable weifiht, confines, reflects, and thereby in- creases the vivifying heat of the sun. The air in- creasco thii kindly heat, niurh in the same manner as our Karniints by day, or bedclothes by night, give LETTER VI. 357 nature, its refracting power pro'iongs that splendour which is the beauty of the crea- tion. These emanations of light, though formed of inactive matter, yet (astonishing apparatus of almighty wisdom !) are refined almost to the subtilty of spirit, and are scarce inferior even to thought in speed. By which means they spread themselves, with a kind of instantaneous swiftness, through the circumference of a whole hem- isphere ; and though they fill, wherever they pervade, yet they straiten no place, embarrass no one, encumber nothing. These give the diamond its brilliancy, and the velvet its gloss : to these, the cheer- ful eye is obliged for its lively sparkle, and the modest cheek for its rosy blush. These, attending the judicious touches of the pen- cil, bid the drapery flow, and the embodied figure arise ; bid the countenance wear the calm serenity of thought, or be agitated with the wild transports of passion — Without this circumstance of colour, we should want all the entertainments of vision, and be at a loss to distinguish one thing from another. We should hesitate to pronounce, and must take a little journey to determine, whether yonder enclosure contains a piece of pastur- age, or a plot of arable land. We should question, and could not very expeditiously resolve, whether the next person we meet be a soldier in his regimentals, or a swain in his holiday-suit ; a bride in her ornaments, or a widow in her weeds. But colour, like a particular livery, characterises the class to which every individual belongs. It is the label which indicates, upon the first inspec- tion, its respective quality. It is the ticket which guides our choice, and directs our hand. " additional warmth to our bodies. Whereas, when the aerial vestment grows thin, or, to speak more philosophically, when the air becomes less in quanti- ty, and move attenuated in quality, the solar warmth is very sensibly diminished. Travellers on the lofty mountains of America sometimes experience, to their terrible cost, the truth of this observation. Though the clime, at the foot of those prodigious hills, is hot and sultry, yet, on their summits, the cold rages with such excessive severity, that it is no unusual calamity, for the horse and his rider to be frozen to death. We have, therefore, great reason to bless the Supreme Disposer of things, for placing us in the commodious concavity, or rather, under the cherish- ing wings of an atmosphere. * This, I believe, suggests the true sense of those noble metaphors used by the divine speaker: " It is turned as clay to the seal, and they stand as a gar- ment ;" — It, the earth and all its productions, receive from the rising sun both colour and beauty; just as the soft clay and the melting wax receive an elegant impression from the seal. — "They (the morning and the day-spring, mentioned in a preceding verse,) stand as a garment ;" they act the part of a magnifi- cent and universal clothing: give all visible objects their comely aspect and graceful distinctions. Job xxxviii. 14. What bold and fine images are here. The sea had been described as an infant, changeable, froward, and impetuous, with thick darkness for its swaddling- band. The light is represented as an handmaid, at- tending to dress the creation; and executing the Creator's orders, with a punctuality that never fails, with a speed that cannot be equiUcd. We have cursoiily surveyed the upper rooms of our great habitation, and taken a turn along the ground-floor ; if we descend into the subterraneous lodgments, the cellars of the stately structure, we shall there also find the most exquisite contrivance acting in concert with the most profuse goodness. Here are various minerals of sovereign ef- ficacy in medicine, which rectify the vitiat- ed blood, and quicken the languid spirits ; vi'hich often rekindle the fading bloom in the virgin's complexion, and re-invigorate the enfeebled arm of manhood. Here are beds fraught with metals of the richest va- lue : From hence come the golden treasures, from hence the silver ores, which are the very life of traffic, and circulate through the body politic as the vital fluid through the animal frame, which, in the refining hand of charity, are feet to the lame, and eyes to the blind, and make the widow's heart sing for joy. Here are mines, which yield a metal of meaner aspect, but of a firmer cohesion, and of superior usefulness : A metal that constitutes almost all the implements with which art executes her various designs. Without the assistance of iron, trade would be reduced to the lowest ebb ; commerce would feel her wings clipped, and every spe- cies of mechanic skill either utterly fail, or be miserably baffled. Without the as- sistance of iron, it would be almost impos- sible to rear the steady mast, to display the daring canvass, or drop the faithful anchor. Destitute of this ever-needful commodity, we should have no plough to furrow the soil, no shuttle to traverse the loom, scarce any ornament for polite, or any utensil for ordin- ary life. Here is an inexhaustible fund of combust- ible materials,* which supply the whole na- tion with fuel. These present their mini- strations in the kitchen ; and yielding them- selves as aliment to the flame, render our food both palatable and healthy. These offer their service at the forge, and with their piercing heat molify the mcst stubborn bars, till they become pliant to the stroke of the hammer. The coals pour themselves like- wise into the glass-houses : They rage, amidst those astonishing furnaces with ir- resistible but useful fierceness. They lique- fy even the obdurate flint, and make the most rigid substances far more ductile than the softest clay, or the melting wax ; make them obsequious, not only to the light- est touch, but to the impressions of our veiy breath. By this means we are furnished, and from * As for the earth, says Job, outof it cometh breads corn, vegetables, and whatever is good for food, spring from its surface. While under it is turned up as it were fire; its lower parts, its deeper strata, yield com- bustible materials, which are easily enkindled into fire, and administer the most substantial fuel for the flame. Job xxviii. 5. 368 THERON AND ASPASIO. the coarsest ingredients, with the most cu- rious, beautiful, and serviceable manufacture in the world : A manufacture which trans- mits the light and warmth of the sun into our houses ; yet excludes the annoyance of the rains, and violence of the winds. Which gives new eyes to decrepit age, and vastly more enlarged views to philosophy and science ; which leads up the astronomer's discernment even to the satelites of Saturn, and carries down the naturalist's observation as far as the animalcule race ; bringing near what is immensely remote, and making vis- ible what, to our 'unassisted sight, would be absolutely imperceptible. We have also, when the sun withdraws Lis shining, an expedient to supply his place. We can create an artificial day in our rooms, and prolong our studies, or pursue our busi- ness, under its cheering influence. With beaming tapers and ruddy fires, we chase the darkness, and mitigate the cold ; we clierish conversation, and cultivate the so- cial spirit. We render those very intervals of time some of the most delightful por- tions of our life, which otherwise would be a joyless and unimproving void. These obscure caverns are the birth-place of the most sparkling gems ; which, wben nicely polished, and prodigal of their lustre, stand candidates for a place on the royal crown, or a seat on the virtuous fair one's breast ; and, I will not with our men of gallantly say, emulate the living brilliancy of her eyes, but serve as a foil to set oflf the loveliness and excellency of her accom- plished mind, and amiable conversation ; " whose price," according to the unerring estimate of inspiration, is superior to sap- phires, "is far above rubies," Prov. xxxi. 10. Here are quarries stocked with stones, inferior in beauty to the jeweller's ware, but much more eminently beneficial ; which, when properly ranged, and cemented with a tenacious mortar, form the convenient abodes of peace, and build the strongest fortifications of war ; defending us from the inclemencies of the weather, and the more formidable assaults of our enemies. These constitute the arches of the bridge which convey the traveller, with perfect security, over the deep and rapid stream. These strengthen the arms, the stupendous arms, of the mole ; which stretch themselves far into the ocean, break the impetuosity of the surge, and screen the bark fi"om tempestu- ous seas. These stony treasures are com- paratively soft, while they continue in the bowels of the earth, but acquire an increas- ing hardness when exposed to the open air. Was this remarkable peculiarity reversed, what difficulties would attend the labours of the mason? His materials could not be extracted from their bed, nor fashioned for his purpose, without infinite toil. Were his work completed, it could not long with • stand the fury of the elements ; but, insen- sibly mouldering, or incessantly decaying, would elude the expectations of the owner ; perhaps might prove an immature grave, instead of a durable dwelling. Here are various assortments or vast layers of clay ; which, however contempti- ble in its appearance, is abundantly more advantageous than the rocks of diamond, or the veins of gold. This is moulded, with great expedition and ease, into vessels of any shape, and of almost every size. Some so delicately fine, that they compose the most elegant and ornamental furniture for the tea-table of a princess. Others so remarkably cheap, that they are ranged on the shelves, and minister at the meals of the poorest peasant. All so perfectly neat, that no liquid takes the least taint, nor the nicest palate any disgust, from their cleanly services. A midtiplicity of other valuable stores are locked up by Providence, in those am- ple vaults. The key of all is committed to the management of industry ; with free permission to produce each particular spe- cies, as necessity shall demand, or prudence direct. Which shall we most admire — the boun- tiful heart, the liberal hand, or the all-dis- cerning eye of our great Creator? How observable and admirable is his precaution, in removing these useful but cumbrous wares from the superficies ; and stowing them in proper repositories, beneath the ground ? Were they scattered over the surface of the soil, the earth would be em- barrassed with the enormous load ; our roads would be blocked up, and scarce any portion left free for the operations of hus- bandry. Were they buried extremely deep, or sunk to the centre of the globe, it would cost us immense pains to procure them ; or rather they would be quite inaccessible. Were they uniformly spread into a pave- ment for nature, the trees could not strike their roots, nor the herbs shoot their blades, but universal sterility must ensue. Where- as, by their present disposition, they furnish us with a magazine of metallic, without causing any diminution of our vegetable, treasures. Fossils of every splendid and serviceable kind enrich the bowels, while bloom and verdure embellish the face of the earth. So judicious is the arrangement of this grand edifice ; so beneficent the destination of its whole furniture !* in which all is re- gulated with consummate skill, and touch- ed into the highest perfection ! All most * No notice is taken of the ocean, in this little rent- roll of nature's wealth ; because a distinct sketch is given of that grand receptacle, and its princqial ser- vices, in Letter IX. LETTER VII. 359 exnctly adapted to the various intentions of Providence, and the manifold exigencies of mankind ; to supply every want we can feel, and gratify every wish we can form. Insomuch that the whole system affords a favourite and exalted topic of praise, even to those distinguished beings who " stand on the sea of glass, and have 'the harps of God in their hands." They lift up their voice and sing, " Great and mar- vellous are thy works, O Lord God Al- mighty,"* Rev- XV. .S. And is there not reason, my Aspasio would say, infinite rea- son for us to join this triumphant choir, and add gratitude to our wonder, love to our hallelujahs ; since all these things are to us, not merely objects of contemplation, but sources of accommodation ; not only a ma- jestic spectacle, bright with the display of our Creator's wisdom, but an inestimable gift, rich with the emanations of his good- ness ? The earth hath he set before the in- habitants of glory, " but the earth hath he given to the children of men," Psal. cxv. 16- Having given us ourselves, given us a world ; has he not a right, most un- questionable and unrivalled right, to make that tender demand, " My son, give me thy heart? Prov. xxiii. 26. Shall I add another passage, which, view- ed with any but the last paragraph, will be like the head of gold, eminent and conspi- cuous, on feet of iron and clay ? It is taken from the finest philosophical oration that ever was made. I never read it but with a glow of delight, and with impressions of awe. It is, in short; inimitably spirited and sublime. You think, perhaps, I act an im- politic part in being so lavish of my praise ; and that the quotation must suffer by such an aggrandizing introduction. But I am under no apprehensions of this kind : For- bear to be delighted, if you can ; cease to admire, if you can ; when you hear Omni- science itself declaring, that on the sight of this universal fabric emerging out of no- tliing, " the morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy," Job xxxviii. 7. The system was so grace- ful, so magnificent, and in all respects so ex- quisitely finished, that the most exalted in- telligences were charmed, were transported. They knew not how to express themselves on the great occasion, but in shouts of ex- ultation and songs of praise. Is it possible * "Great and marvellous are thy works, O Lord God Almighty ! just and true are thy ways, thou King of saints!" — The first part seems to mean, what the inspired writer calls. The song of Moses. The second contains what he styles, The song of the Lamb. The first, I should imagine, relates to the stupendous works of creation. The second alludes to the far more won- derful scheme of redeinption. The former, describ- ing the system of nature, is recorded by Moses ; the latter, comprehending the salvation of the saints, is aocoraplished bv Christ. for imagination to conceive an encomium so just, so high, so beautifully noble ? — I am sure, after so much delicacy and majesty of sentiment, any thing of mine must be into- lerably flat ; unless you will except this one profession, that I am, with the most cor- dial sincerity, my dear Aspasio, inviolably yours, Thebon. LETTER VIL Aspasio to Theron. My Dear Theron, — If you write with such a view, and from such a motive, as are mentioned in your last, expect no more free- will offerings from my pen. In this one in- stance I shall think it my duty to be covet- ous. I shall act the miser out of principle ; and hardly persuade myself to part with a single line, till it is become an undeniable debt. I must turn your own artifice on yourself, and lay you under a necessity of obliging, entertaining, and edifying me by your correspondence. For, give me leave to assure you, that I am always delighted, and always improved by yoiu- epistles. They show me a multi- tude of beauties in the creation which I should not otherwise have discerned. They point out the infinite power, the unsearcha- ble wisdom, and the charmingly rich good- ness of the glorious Maker, Such a philo- sophy turns all nature into a school of in- struction, and is an excellent handmaid to true religion. It makes eveiy object a step, better than a golden step, to raise both our knowledge and our affections to the adora- ble and immortal Cause of all. While I am roving heedlessly along, your remarks often interpose, like some intelli- gent faithful monitor who claps his hand upon my breast, and says, Stand still, and consider the wondrous works of God," Job xxxvii. 14. Willingly I obey the admoni- tion : the Christian may, with peculiar com- placency, consider this grand magazine of wonders, this copious store-house of bless- ings, and, conscious of an interest in Jesus, has a right to call them all " his own," J Cor. iii. 2. He may ^ook round upon present things, look forward unto future things, and, trusting in his Saviour's merit, may confidently say — " Not one only, but both these worlds are mine. By virtue of my Redeemer's righteousness, I possess the necessary accommodations of this life ; and, on the same unshaken footing, I stand en- titled to the inconceivable felicity of a better." Surely then, it will be as pleasing a^ ploy, and as important a search, tOj^j.^n the validity of our title to futiifovctcd 300 THERON AND ASPASIO. to estimate the value of our present posses- sions : You have executed the one, let me attempt ♦^he other : You have surveyed ma- terial nature. It appears to be a fair and stately mansion, void of all defect ; and, for the'purposes which it is intended to answer, completely finished. Is not our Saviour's obedience, the provision made for indigent and guilty souls, equally rich, and equally perfect ? Since this is everlasting and im- mutable ; since the other is transient and perishable ; doubtless we >ay argue with the judicious apostle ; If "that which is to be done away," which will soon be consign- ed over to dissolution, " is glorious ; much more that which remaineth," whose blessed effects continue to eternal ages, " is glor- ious," 2 Cor. iii. 11. We are every one " as an unclean thing," Isa. Ixiv. 6. Our very nature is contamin- ated. Even sarH;tification, though it de- stroys the reigning, does not wholly super- sede the polluting power of iniquity ; so that, whatever graces we exercise, whatever duties we perform (like the rays of light transmitted through coloured glass, or like generous wine streamingfrom a defiled cask,) they receive some improper tinge, or con- tract some debasing taint. But Christ was entirely free from this innate contagion. He had no erroneous apprehensions in his mind, no corrupt bias upon his will, nor any irre- gular concupiscence in his affections. Being thus perfectly undefiled, " he did no sin, neither was guile found in his mouth," 1 Pet. ii. 22. All his thoughts were inno- cent, all his words were irreproachable, and every action blameless. The most accom- plished among the children of men, when surprised in some unguarded moment, or assaulted on some weak side, have been be- trayed into error, or hurried into sin. Even Moses spake unadvisedly with his lips, and Aaron, the saint of the Lord, warped to idolatrous practices. They were like some stagnating lake, in which, the dregs being subsided, the waters appear clean ; but when stirred by temptation, or agitated by afiliclion, the sediment rises, and the pool is discoloured. Whereas Christ may be compared to a fountain that is all transpar- ency, and pure to the very bottom ; which, however shaken, however disturbed, is no- thing but fluid crystal, permanently and in- variably clear. It was a small thing for the blessed Jesus to have no depraved propensity : he was born in a state of consummate rectitude, and adorned with all the beauties of holi- ness. " Holiness to the Lord" was inscrib- ed, not on the mitre, but on the heart of our great High- Priest : Therefore he is styled, by the angelic harbinger of his birth, " That Holy Thing," Luke i. 35.* In the « Which is spokenin contradistinction to the state prophecy of Zechariah, the dignity of our Redeemer's nature, and the perfection of his obedience, are displayed by the simili- tude of a stone,* adorned with exquisite engraving, wrought not by Bezaleel or Aho- linb, though divinely inspired artists, but by the finger of Jehovah himself; and more highly finished than it is possible for human skill to equal, or human thought to con- ceive. The whole tenor of our Lord's conduct was a living exemplification of piety and morality, in their most extensive branches and most amiable forms. Saints of the highest attainments have fallen short of the glory of God ; have been far from reaching the exalted standard of his precepts : But Christ failed in no point, came short in no degree. We formerly observed the great sublimity and vast extent of the divine law ; from whence appears , the extreme difficulty, nay the utter impossibility of our justifica- tion on account of any duties performed by ourselves. How should we rejoice then to contemplate the vicarious righteousness of our condescending and adorable Surety ! As the mercy-seat was exactly commensur- ate to the dimensions of the ark, so did our Lord's obedience most fully quadrate with all and fevery demand of the divine law. It flowed from those best of principles — su- preme love to God, and unfeigned affection to mankind. From these two capital sources, let us trace our Lord's obedience through some little part of its illustrious progress. His delight in God was conspicuous, even from his early years. The sacred solemnities of the sanctuary were more engaging to his youthful mind, than all the entertainments of a festival. When he entered upon his ministry, whole nights were not too long for his copious devotions. The lonely re- tirements of the desert, as affording oppor- tunity for undisturbed communion with God, were more desirable to Christ than the applauses of an admiring world. So ceaseless and [^transcendent was his love to God, that he never sought any se- parate pleasure of his own, but always did those things which were pleasing in his Fa- ther's sight. His own will was entirely ab- sorbed in the will of the Most High, and " it was his meat and drink," refreshing and de- lightful as the richest food, or as royal dain- of all other births, and implies the universal preva- lence of ori£;inal corruption, this one instance only excepted. For, if other infants were holy at their first formation, and made after the image of God, this remark had been trivial and impertinent, if not droll and burlesque ; like saying with great solemni- ty " The child shall have a mouth and a head ; aye, and eyes in the one, and lips to the otlier." * Zech. iii. !). Behold the stone that I have laid before Joshua ; upon one stone shall be seven eyes : behold, I 'vill engrave the graving thereof, saith the Lord of Hosts, and I will remove the iniquity of that land in one dav. LETTER VII. 361 ties, " to finish the work that was given him to do." John iv. 34. So entirely devoted to the honour of God, that a zeal for his house, and for the purity of his ordinances, is represented by the evangelical historian, as "eating him up." John ii. 17. Like a heavenly flame glow- ing in his breast, it sometimes fired him with a graceful indignation, sometimes melt- ed him into godly sorrow, and, by exerting itself in a variety of vigorous efforts, con- sumed his vital spirits; So active and unremitted was the obe- dience of the blessed Jesus, that the sun did not enter upon his race with a more constant assiduity, nor despatch his business with greater expedition ; and sure I am, that radiant luminary never dispensed beams half so bright, or a thousandth part so bene- ficial. Short was his span, but how grand and extensive were his services ! So grand, that they bring more glory to God than all the administrations of Providence, and all the phenomena of nature. So extensive, that they spread, in their gracious efficacy, to the ends of the earth, and to the closing period of time. Nay, they will diff'use their blessed influence even to the celestial world, and have no other limits of their duration than the ages of eternity. Most affectionately concerned for the welfare of mankind, he spent his strength, not barely in relieving them when his aid was implored, but in seeking the afflicted, and offering his assistance. With great fatigue, John iv. 6, he travelled to remote cities ; and with no less condescension he visited the meanest villages, — that all might have the benefit and comfort of his presence. Though multitudes of miserable objects were brought to him from every quarter, yet he was pleased even to prevent the wishes of the distressed, and " went about doing good." He gave sight, and all the agreeable scenes of nature, to the blind ; health, and all the choice comforts of life, to the diseased. He expelled malevolent raging demons, and j'estored, what is more precious than the light of the body, or the vigour of the con- stitution, the calm possession of the intellec- tual faculties. What greatly surpassed all the preceding blessings, he released the wretched soul from the dominion of dark- ness and from the tyranny of sin. He made his followers partakers of a divine nature, and prepared them for a state of never-end- ing bliss. Such priceless treasures of wisdom and beneficence flowed from his tongue, and were poured from his hands ! How different these triumphs of mercy, from the trophies erected by wild ambition in the bloody field! If heathens celebrated those mighty butchers who made cities their slaughter-house, made half the globe their shambles, and tncasured their merit by the devastations they spread, how should Christians admire this heavenly Benefactor, who rose upon a wretched world " with healing under his wings !" who distributed far and near the unspeakably rich gifts of knowledge and holiness, of temporal happiness and eternal joy ! Nor were these righteous acts his strange work, but his repeated, his hourly, his al- most incessant employ. Sometimes we hear him preaching in the temple, or publishing his glad tidings in the synagogues. Some- times we see him teaching in private houses, or bringing forth the good things of his gos- pel on the deck of a ship. At other times he takes a mountain for his pulpit ; the hea- vens are his sounding-board ; and " all that have ears to hear" are invited to be his audience. Does he lay aside this solemn office, it is only to carry on the same design in a more condescending and familiar man- ner.— If he meets with the Pharisees, he discovers their errors and reproves their vices ; he confutes their objections, and (in case they are not absolutely inaccessible to wise counsel) rectifies their mistakes. If he vouchsafes to be present at a feast, he furnishes the richest, incomparably the richest part of the treat. ' " Honey and milk are under his tongue," Cant. iv. 11. He inculcates lowliness of mind on the vain, Luke xiv. 8. he recommends disinterested charity to the selfish, Luke xiv. 12 ; and pro- mises pardon to the weeping penitent, Luke vii. 48. Is he retired from other company, and surrounded only by his chosen attend- ants? His conversation is a sermon. Whether he sit in the inner-chamber, or travel on the public road, or walk through the corn-fields, he is still prosecuting his great work, training up his disciples for their sacred function, and imparting to them what they may communicate to others. Is he re- tired from all company ? Even then he does not discontinue his labours of love, but adds the fervent intercessions of the night to the charitable toils of the day. Yes ; when all but himself lay sunk in soft repose, this Ad- vocate for a guilty world was engaged in an exercise of benevolence, which, though se- cret and unobserved as the falling dews, was far more beneficial to our best interests, than those pearly drops to the languishing herbs. Most charming and unparalleled benigni- ty ! He forgot his daily food, neglected his necessary rest, to spend and be spent for the salvation of mankind. Neither the hardships of continued self-denial, nor the calumnies of envenomed tongues, could di- vert him from pursuing this favourite busi- ness. He sought none of your honours, coveted none of your rewards, O ye children of men I What he sought, what he coveted 36? THERON AND ASPASIO. was to wear out his life in your service, and lay it down for your ransom. This was all his desire, and this, indeed, he desired earnestly. He longed (beneficent, blessed Being !) he longed, for the fatal hour. He severely rebuked one of his disciples who would have dissuaded him from going as a volunteer to the cross. He was even strait- ened,* under a kind of holy uneasiness, till the dreadful work was accomplished ; till he was baptized with the baptism of his suf- ferings, bathed in blood and plunged in death. By this most meritorious obedience and death, what did he not deserve ? what did he not procure ? He procured those inesti- mable blessings, the pardon of sin and re- conciliation with God; procured them (O love unmerited and unmeasurable !) for prodigals, for traitors, for rebels ! To this it is owing that we, who were ene- mies against God, may call the king of heaven our father, may have free access to him in all our difficulties ; and may hope to reign with him in everlasting glory. Was ever goodness like this goodness ?f were ever blessings comparable to these blessings, or purchased with such a price ? Hide, hide your diminished heads, ye little transitory donations of silver and gold. The riches of a thousand mines, bestowed to feed the hungry and clothe the naked, are the most contemptible trifles, if mentioned with the charity of the teaching, the healing, the bleeding Jesus ! Kingdoms given away in alms, if viewed with this infinitely noble beneficence, would make just the same figure as a spark from the summer hearth, under the potent and boundless blaze of noon. This is indeed "love that passeth know- ledge."? Eph. iii. 19. « Luke xii. 50. Tlie original word inj)iix'>f^''-' seems to express the condition of a person wedged in on every side by a tumultuous throng of people. t Codrus, it'is true, devoted himself to death for the Athenians ; and Curtius threw himself into the yawn- ing gulph for the preservation of the Romans. But these died being mere creatures, and guilty creatures ; whereas, the dying Je^us was perfectly innocent, and supremely glorious. These died only a little before their time: but Christ died, though he had life in himself, and none could have taken it from him, had lie not voluntarily resigned it. These died for their valuable friends, for their affectionate relations, for their native country; but Christ died for slaves, for enemies, for the ungodly. They died an honourable death, but Christ submitted to the most ignominious execution; Christ died under the imputation of hor- rid crimes, and in the form of an execrable malefac- tor. In all these instances, a> the heavens are higher than the earth, so is Christ's love greater than their love, his philanthropy than their patriotism. % This expression, as also the principal circum- stance of superiority hinted in the preceding note, are founded on the divinity of our Lord ; and indeed the expression is scarce justifiable, the assertion is hardly true, upon any other supposition. A creature dying for a creature, is, though great, yet notjincom- jirehensible goodness. But, when we view the suffer- ings of Christ, and the blessings of redemption, sur- rounded with all the splendour of the Deity, tiiey dazzle our understanding, and fill us with holy aston- ishment. They appear to l)e the effects of a love ne- ver to l)e spoke of but in the language of wonder, ne- ver to be thought of but witli an testacy of delight. Amidst all these miracles of povref and of love, (any one of which would have en- titled him to universal admiration and ever- lasting honour), how humble was our Savi- our ! O humility — virtue dear to the most high God, and peculiarly amiable in men — never didst thou appear in so charming a dress, or so striking a light ! At his birth, not accommodated with a magnificent palace, but lodged in a stable^ and laid in a manger. As he advanced in years, not attended with a royal equipage, or supplied from a royal revenue, but laboiu:- ing with his own hands, and earning his bread by the sweat of his brow. When he entered upon his ministerial office, not the least ostentatious parade appeared in the performance of all his wonderful works. So far, so very fitr from affecting the acclama- tions of the populace, that he often imposed silence on those unspeakably indebted lips which were ready to overflow with praise, and would fain have been the trumj)ets of his fame. Though a voice from heaven proclaimed him the Beloved of his Almighty Father, he disdained not to own the ignoble character of the carpenter's son. Matth. xiii. 35. Though Prince of the kings of the earth, he condescended to wash the feet of mean fishermen and vile sinners. John xiii. 14. Though proprietor and lord of the whole world, he was content to be more destitute than the fowls of the air, or the foxes of the desert ; Matth. viii. 20 ; more destittite (astonishing abasement !) than the most in- significant and most hated animals. Grandeur, we find, is apt to beget expec- tations of superior regard ; consequently gives a keener edge to every affront, and renders the mind more tenderly sensible of every disrespect. But our Lord's meekness was as great as his dignity ; and that through- out a series of such unsuflferable provoca- tions, as were equalled by nothing but the sweetness of his forgiving grace. When rtidely aflfronted, he calmly bore, and kindly overlooked the irisidt. When contradicted by petulant and presumptuous sinners, he endured, with the utmost sereni- ty of temper, their unreasonable cavils and their obstinate perverseness. When his invitations, his most endearing invitations, were ungratefully and stubbornly rejected, instead of remitting, he renewed them ; and, with still warmer affection, importuned his hearers not to forsake their own mercies, not to forego their own felicity. When all the winning arts of persuasion were inef- fectual, he added his tears to his slighted entreaties, and lamented as a brother when scornfully repulsed as a teacher. Though his disciples slept, stupidly slept, when his bitter cries pierced the clouds, and were enough to awaken the very stones into LETTER Vll 36S compassion, did tlieir divine but blighted Master resent the unkindncss ? Did he refuse to admit an excuse for their neglect ? yea, he made their excuse, and that the most tender and gracious imaginable : " The spirit is willing, but the tlesh is weak." Matth. xxvi. 41. When his enemies had nailed him to the cross, as the basest slave and most flagitious malefactor ; when they were glutting their malice with his torments and blood, and spared not to revile him even in his last expiring agonies ; far, very far from being exasperated, this Hero of heaven repaid all their contempt and barbarity with the most fervent and effectual supplications in their behalf: " Father, forgive them," was his prayer ; " for they know not what they do," was his plea. Luke xxiii. 34. Nor was his resignation less exemplary than his meekness. He went out to meet afflictions, when they came in his Father's name, and commissioned from his Father's hand. He gave, without the least reluct- ance, his back to the smiters, " and hid not his face from shame and spitting." Though his sold, his very soul, was penetrated with the keenest sensations of anguish, yet Jio impatient thought discomposed his mind, no murmiu-ing word forced its way from his lips. " Father, not my will, but thine be done," Luke xxii. 42, was his language, when the sorrows of death compassed him, and pains inexpressibly severer than the pains of dissolution, came upon him. " \VTien they gaped upon him with their mouth, and smote him upon the cheek re- proachfully : When his face was foul with spitting, and on his eyelids was the shadow of death : When God delivered him to the ungodly, and turned him over into the hands of the wicked : Yea, when the Almighty set him for the mark of his arrows, and brake him with breach upon breach : AVhen the weapons of his wrath cleft his very reins asunder, and poured his gall upon the earth :"• — Amidst all this exquisite dis- tress, he sinned not by the least irregidar perturbation ; but bowed his head, and du- tifully Icissed the divine rod, and cordially blessed his very murderers. Thus did the whole choir of active and passive virtues abound and shine in our Lord ; abound with the richest variety, and shine with the highest lustre, infinitely sur- passing that curious assemblage of costly gems which studded the Aaronic breast- plate, Exod. xxviii. 17 — 20. and, as far as ♦ These tragical images are borrowed from the book of Job, who was an eminent type of a suffering .Saviour ; and though they are the very eloquence of wo, they do not exaRgerate, thev cannot express that inconceivable anguish which wrung a bloody sweat from our blessed Master's body, and forced from his lips that melancholy exclamation—" My soul is forrowtul— cxcceciinsr sorrowful— sorrowful even unto death. See Job xvi. earthly things can represent heavenly, typi- fied the splendour and perfection of our Re- deemer's righteousness. In all this, he acted and suffered as God's righteous servant, and as his people's right- eous surety. By all this, he fulfilled every jot and tittle of the divine law ; nay, he more than fulfilled, he magnified it. He gave it (if I may apply the most beautiful allusion that ever was used, to the most momentous subject that ever was discussed) " good mea- sure pressed down, and shaken together, and running over." Luke vi. 38. He defied the most vigilant of his ene- mies to convince him of sin. A more ma- lignant, a far more sagacious adversary thaa the Scribes and Pharisees, could detect no blemish in our Lord Jesus. " The prince of this world," that infernal tyrant who had deceived and enslaved all the nations of the earth, " came and found nothing in him," John xiv. 30, not the least corruption in his nature, not the least defect in his obe- dience. " He hath done all things well," Mark vii. 37. was the general acclamation of all mankind ; or, as the words may be render- ed, " he hath done all things finely and gracefully (xaX&ij,) with every circumstance that can constitute the propriety and digni- ty, the utility and beauty of action. " I have glorified thee on earth,'' John xvii. 4, was his own profession before the most high God. I have glorified thee in all that I acted, in all that I uttered, in all that I suffered. I have displayed the magnifi- cence of thy Majesty, the riches of thy grace, and the honoiu: of all thy attributes. Inso- much, that " whoso seeth me, seeth the Fa- ther," John xii. 45 : whoever is properly acquainted with my person and my work of redemption, sees the invisible, and knows the incomprehensible Deity ; sees his venerable, his amiable, his adorable perfections, in the clearest mirror, and in the brightest light. God also, who is the supreme standard, and unerring judge of excellency, bore his testimony to our blessed Mediator. He spoke it once, yea twice, and with a voice from heaven. In the constitution of the ma- terial world, when it came forth from the Creator's hand. Omniscience itself could discern no flaw. Neither could Justice itself, upon the strictest inquiry, discover any fail- ure in the obedience of our Surety. As, therefore, it was said concerning the works of creation, " They are all very good," Gen. i. 31, so it was said concerning our Saviour, and by the same Almighty Majesty, " In him I am well pleased." Matth. iii. 17. You took notice, and very justly, how much the productions of nature exceed and eclipse the attempts of human skill. We are pleased with the performances of the painter ; but do they equal the native blush S64 THERON AND ASPASIO. of tlie rose, or the artless glow of a pea- blossom ? We are charmed with a fine piece of enammelling ; but is it fit to be compar- ed with the natural polish of a thousand shells which are formed in the ocean, or a thousand seeds which spring from the earth ? We admire the virtues of the ancient saints, men " that were honoured in their genera- tions and the glory of their times, Eccles. xlv. 7. We admire the meekness of Moses, and the magnanimity of Elijah ; the exalted piety of Isaiah, and the enlarged wisdom of Daniel ; the active spirit of Joshua, and the passive graces of Jeremiah. But what pro- portion, put them all together — what propor- tion do they all bear to his obedience, " who is gone into heaven, angels and authorities and powers being made subject unto him," 1 Pet. iii. 22. " who is called the Holy One and the Just," Acts iii. 14. not only by way of emphasis, but by way of exclusion ; be- cause no person is worthy of the character, no duties deserve to be mentioned, when Christ and his merits are under considera- tion. If then we talk of merit, what merit must there be in such immaculatesanctity of soul, and such exemplary holiness of conduct ; such ardent zeal for God, and such com- passionate good-will to men ; such consum- mate worthiness and extensive usefulness ; such as were utterly unknown before, have been absolutely unequalled since, and never will, nor can be paralleled throughout all ages ! — O my Theron ! what is the drop of a bucket to the unfathomable waves of the ocean ? What is a grain of sand to the un measurable dimensions of the universe ? What is an hour or a moment to the end- less revolutions of eternity ? Such are all human endowments, and all human attain- ments, compared with his righteousness, who is " fairer than the children of men," Psal. xlv. 2. " the chiefest among ten thou- sand. Cant. v. 10. ; " and who receiveth not the Spirit by measure," John iii. 34. Think not, that what I have written is the language of rant. It is a paraphrase, though, I must confess, but a scanty para- phrase, on David's practice and David's faith. " My mouth shall show fortli thy righteousness and thy salvation all the day, for I know not the numbers thereof," Psal. Ixxi. 15.* The glorious righteousness of Christ, and the great salvation obtained thereby, he declares shall be the chosen, the principal subject of his discourse. And not on a Sabbath only, but on every day of the week, of the year of his life. And not barely at the stated returns of solemn de- votion, but in every social interview, and " all the day long-" Why will he thus dwell, perpetually and invariably dwell on this darling theme ? Because " he knew no end thereof. It is impossible to mea- sure the value, or exhaust the fulness of these blessings. The righteousness is un- speakable, the salvation is everlasting. To compute the duration of the one, numbers fail ; to describe the excellency of the other, words are at a loss. And is this righteousness designed for us ? Is this to be our wedding-dress, this our beau- tiful array, when we enter the regions of eternity ? Unspeakable privilege ! Is this what God has provided to supply, more than supply, our loss in Adam? Boundless benig- nity ! Shall we be treated by the Judge of the world as if we had performed all this un- sinning and perfect obedience ? Well might the prophet cry out, like one lost in aston- ishment " How great is his goodness ? Is not your heart enamoured, my dear Theron, with a view of this incomprehensibly rich grace ? What so excellent, what so comfort- able, what so desirable, as this gift of a Sa- viour's righteousness ! Though delineated by this feeble pen, methinks it has dignity and glory enough to captivate our hearts, and fire our affections ; fire them with ar- dent and inextinguishable desires after a personal interest and property in it. O ! may the eternal Spirit reveal our Redeemer's righteousness, in all its heavenly beauty and divine lustre ! Then, I am sure, we shall esteem it above every thing ; we shall re- gard it as the " one thing needful :" we shall count all things, in comparison of it, worth- less as chaft' and empty as the wind. • I cannot but observe, that righteousness and sal- vation are frequently connected by the author of the psalms, and by the jjrophet Isaiah, in order to in- timate that the one is founded on the other ; the latter derives its origin from the former. There can be no salvation without a righteousness, a real, proper, law- fulfilling righteousness. At the same time, I am sen- sible, that the word righteousness may signify God's goodness in making, and faithfulness in performing his promises unto David. Salvation may likewise denote the delivery of that afflicted hero from all his persecutors, and his establishment on the throne of Israel. But, if we should confine the sense to these narrow limits, how comfortless the favour even to David himself, consideredasaiiimmortal being ! How much more insignificant to us and others, on whom the ends of the world are come ! And how very unworthy of that infinite God, who is the Father of the spirits of all flesh ; who sees at one view whatever is or has been, or shall exist; who therefore, when he speaks, speaks to all his children in every period of time, and in every nation under heaven. As much as a tutor, when delivering his lectures, addresses himself to all his pupils, whether they sit at his right hand or his left, before him or on every side. Whereas, if righteousness sigiiifies the meritorious obedience of Christ, and salvation implies the bene- fits of his redemption, the sense is no longer shrivel- led, impoverished, and mean; but rich, august, and magnificent. It pours consolation among all people, kindredsand tongues. It is worthy of IhatGod, who seeth the things, and regardeth the persons, which are not as though they were. It comports exactly with that revelation in which Christ is the Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the ending, the sum total. This note is already too long, otherwise I should take leave to gratifv my inclination, and give a sanc- tion to my sentiment, by transcribing Vitlinga'6 ex- position of Isa. xlv. S. LETTER VIII. 385 To an immortal and fallen soul every thing else is empty as the wind ; but here sinners may " suck and be satisfied with this breast of consolation ;" yea, thousands and thousands of millions may '•' milk out, and be delighted with the abundance of its glo- ry." Isa. Ixvi. 11. Here we shall find the doctrine of supererogation no longer a chi- mera, but a delightful reality. Here in- deed is an immense surplusage, an inexhaus- tible fund of merit,* sufficient to enrich a whole world of indigent and miserable crea- tures ; sufficient to make their cup run over with a superabundant fulness of peace and joy, so long as time shall last, and when time shall be no more. For, to use the apos- tle's weighty argument, " If, by one man's offence death reigned by one ; much more they which receive abundance of grace, and of the gift of righteousness, shall reign in life by one, Jesus Christ." Rom. v. 17. If, one offence, committed by one mere man, made all his posterity chargeable with guilt, and liable to death ; how much more shall the manifold instances of our divine Re- deemer's obedience ; of his long, uninter- rupted, consummate righteousness ; — how much more shall they absolve all his people from condemnation and punishment, and entitle them to the honours and joys of immortality ! Which will appear in a clearer light, if, to the perfection of his obedience, we add the majesty of his person. A proper sub- ject this for some future letter. — In the mean time, let me desire my friend, the friend of my bosom, to contemplate our Lord Jesus under that lovely and august character, " Glorious in holiness." Exod. XV. 11. And, for my part, I will notecase to pray, that a sense of this supereminently grand and precious righteousness may be written on my Theron's heart. On those living tables, may it be like figures cut on a rock of solid marble, or inscribed on the bark of a growing tree ; be lasting in its duration as the former, and spreading in its influence as the latter. It will then be a sure proof, that his name is written in the book of life ; and it shall then be a pleasing pattern for the affection, the gratitude, and the friend- ship of his AsPASio. -P. S — You give a most astonishing ac- count of the pressure of the atmosphere. Astonishing, indeed ! that we should be * Yet here is no rich fund, (as a learned uTiter as- serts) no fund at all, for the Pope's treasuiy of meri- torious supererogatin" actions ; unless Christ and the Pope are to be placed upon the same footing ; unless the ineffably excellent obedience of a divine Redeem- er, and the miserably defective duties of sinful men, are to be deemed etjually valuable. Since this will Iiardly be admitted by Protestants, I believe, Aspa- sio may safely call the obedience of Christ, " the true supererogation ;" as Mr. Ambrose has called the blood of Christ, " the true purgatory. ■' continually surrounded, continually over- whelmed, with such a tremendous load, and not be crushed to death ; no, nor be sen- sible of the least weight. This, I think, may serve to represent the state of a sinner unavvakened from carnal security. Loads, more than mountainous loads of guilt, are upon his soul, and he perceives not the bur- den. For this reason, he is under no ap- prehensions of the vengeance and fiery in- dignation which he deserves : he has no superlative esteem for the atonement and merits of the Redeemer, which alone can deliver him from the wrath to come. But if once his conscience feels, what his lips, perhaps, have often repeated, " We do ear- nestly repent us of these our misdoings, the remembrance of them is grievous unto us, the burden of them is intolerable ; then how will he prize such a text, " The Lord laid on Christ the iniquity of us all !" How will he long for an interest in the Lamb of God, " which taketh away the sin of the world !" Then that Jesus who has " finish™ ed the transgression, and brought in everlast- ing righteousness," will be all his salvation, and all his desire. LETTER VIII. ASPASIO TO TlIEKON'. Dear Theron, — I have just been read- ing that exquisitely fine piece of sacred his- tory, the life of Joseph : a history filled with surprising incidents and unexpected revolutions ; adorned with the most heroic instances of triumphant virtue, both amidst all the allurements of temptation and under the pressures of affliction ; animated with such tender and pathetic, such melting and alarming touches of natural eloquence, as every reader must feel, and every true critic will admire. When I came to that remarkable injunc- tion with which the generous viceroy dis- missed his brethren, " Ye shall tell my Father of all my glory in Egypt," Gen. xlv. 13;— I paused— I pondered— I was struck. Certainly this was enjoined, not by way of ostentation, but on account of the pleasure, which he knew it would yield the good old patriarch. Was it some "kind prompting angel, or the voice of gratitude and devotion, that whispered in my ear, " Should not the children of men likewise tell one another of all the glory,* which * To see the glory of Christ, is the grand blessing which our Lord solicits and demands for his disciples, in his last solemn intercession, Johnxvii.24. It i» that which will complete the blessedness of heaven, and fill its inhabitants with joy unspeakable and glo- rious. Surely then we should endeavour to antici- pate, in some degree, that celestial bliss, and habitu. 366 THERON AND ASPASIO. their Redeemer possesses m heaven and on earth ? Will not this afford them the su- blimest pleasure here, and be a source of the most refined satisfaction for ever and ever ?" Though I had almost determined to write no more, till you could make a demand upon the foot of value received, willingly I re- cede from ray intended resolution, and obey this pleasing hint. But "who can declare the noble acts of the Lord Jesus Christ, or show forth all his praise ?" — However, if I may but lisp out his adorable name, and present my friend with a glimpse, or a broken view of his divine perfections, even this will be desirable and delightful ; far more desirable and delightful than to be- hold Rome in its magnificence, St. Paul in the pulpit, or King Solomon on his throne.* Let me take the lark for my pattern ; which, as I was lately returning from an evening ramble, attracted my observation. Warbling her Creator's praise, she mounted in the serene sky. Still she warbled, and still she mounted, as though she meant to carry her tribute of harmony unto the very gates of heaven. Having reached at last her highest elevation, and perceiving her- self at an immense distance from the starry mansions, she dropped on a sudden to the earth, and discontinued at once both to sing and to soar. Now the morning appears, and is awakening the world, our little song- ster retunes her throat, and re-exerts her wings. As I have endeavoured, very im- perfectly endeavoured, to strike out a sha- dowy draught of our Lord's complete obe- dience ; I would, though unequal to the task, once more resume my pen, and attempt — nothing like a display, but only a faint sketch of his essential dignity. First let me observe, that for some time past we have been visited with the most uncomfortable weather, dewless nights and sultry days. The firmament was more like a glowing furnace than the region of refresh- ing rain. The earth lay parched with thirst, and chapped with heat. The meadows were drained of their humidity, and all the flowers hung their fading heads. The streams, which used to flow parallel with the verdant margin, abandoned their banks, and sunk diminished and discoloured, to the bottom of their oozy channels. Nature in general seemed to be resigning the " robe of beauty for the garment of heaviness." Drought was in all our borders, and famine we feared was not far behind. Though clouds of dust obscured the air, tarnished the hedges, and almost smothered the tra ate our souls to this sacred exercise, which will be our business and our reward to endless ages. • These, if I remember right, are the three things which St. .\n^nlstille declared, would, of all others, most eminently sr.Uify his curiosity. veller, yet not one cloud of fleecy white ap- peared, to variegate the blue expanse, or give us hopes of a reviving shower.* It reminded me of that awful threatening, denounced by Moses on a wicked people : " The heaven, that is over thy head, shall be brass : and the earth, that is under thee, shall be iron." Deut. xxviii- 23. It made me apprehensive of that terrible state which the prophet so emphatically describes : " The field is wasted, and the land mourn- eth. The seed is rotten under the clods, and the harvest perisheth. The garners are laid desolate, and the barns are broken down. The new wine is dried up, the oil languisheth, and all the trees of the field are withered. How do the beasts groan ! The herds of cattle are perplexed ; yea, the flocks of sheep are made desolate : Because the riv- ers of waters are dried up, and the fire hath devoiu'ed the pastures of the wilderness " Joel i. 10, &c. But, blessed be the divine Providence, our fears are vanished, and a most joyful change has taken place. The Lord hath " sent a gracious rain upon his inheritance, and refreshed it when it was weary." Psalm Ixviii. 9. Yesterday, in the afternoon, the wind, shifting to the south, roused the dormant clouds, and brought some of those agreea- able strangers on its wings. At first they came sailing in small, and thin, and scatter- ed parties. Anon, the flying squadrons ad- vanced in larger detachments, more closely wedged, and more deeply laden ; till at last, the great rendezvous completed, they form- ed into a body of such depth, and extended their wings with such a sweep, as darkened the sun, and overspread the whole hemis- phere. Just at the close of day, the gales which escorted the spongy treasures retired, and consigned their charge to the disposal of a profound calm. Not a breeze shook the most tremulous leaf: Not a curl ruffled the smooth exjjansive lake : All things were still, as in attentive expectation. The earth seemed to gasp after the hovering moisture. Nature, with her suppliant tribes, in express- ive pleading silence, solicited the falling fruitfulness, nor pleaded long, nor solicited in vain. The showers, gentle, soft and balmy, de- scend. The vessels of heaven unload their precious freight, and enrich the penurious glebe. Through all the night, the liquid sweetness, incomparably more beneficial than trickling silver, distils ; shedding herbs, and « At such a juncture, how pertinent is the question proposed by the Almighty Majesty ? Job xxxviii. ;<7, 'JH- V\'ho can number, muster, or arrange the clouds in wisdom, so as to have them ready at hand on any emergency ? And who can empty those bot- tles of heaven, in copious but seasonable effusions upon the earth I when, as in the case described above, the dust of the loads is attenuated inte powder, and the clods of the vall-v are glued fast together ? fruits, and flowers,— Now the sun, mild and refulgent, issues through the portals of the east. Pleased, as it were, to have emerged from the late aggravated darkness, he looks abroad with peculiar gaiety and the most en- gaging splendours. He looks through the disburdened air, and finds a gladdened world, that wants nothing but his all-cheering beams, to render its satisfaction complete. The glory comes !— Hail to thy rising ray. Great lamp of light, and second source of day ! Who robe the world, each nipping gale remove, Treat every sense, and beam creating love.— KiRKPATBlCK. At his auspicious approach, the freshened mountains lift their heads, and smile. The garden opens its aromatic stores and breathes, as from a fuming altar, balm to the smell, and incense to the skies. The little hills, crowned with springing plenty, clap their hands on every side. The moistened plains, and irriguous valleys, "laugh and sing:" While their waters, lately exhausted, again "are made deep, and their livers run like oil," Ezek. xxxii. 14. The whole earth, saturated with the bounty of heaven, and flushed with humid life, wears a thousand marks of gratitude and complacency. Washed by the copious rain, how bright and vivid is the universal ver- dure ! The green carpet below may almost vie with the blue canopy above. The forest, and every tree, burnish their colours, and array themselves in their finest apparel ; which, as on a day of general festivity, is (ieiicalely decked with gems — gems of un- sullied lustre, and of genial moisture. From every pasture, and from all the grove, the voice of pleasure and of melody resounds ; while the officious zephyrs waft the floating harmony, blended with native perfumes — gently waft them to the senses, and touch the very soul with transport- Could there be a more brilliant appear- ance, or more exuberant demonstrations of joy, even to celebrate the anniversary of na- ture's birth ? With what admirable pro- priety has the Psalmist compared yonder orient sun, in all his sparkling grandeur, to a young exultmg "bridegroom," Psal. xix. 5, who comes forth, with every heightened or- nament, from his chamber, to show himself in the most distinguished period of his life, and to receive the blessing which consum- mates his happiness ! This most charming and equally ma- jestic scene recalls to my memory that fine description of the Messiah, extant in the last lovely strains of the Israelitish swan :* — He shall be welcome and salutary, " as LETTER VIII. 867 the light of the morning ; when the sun ariseth," to chase the malignant shades, and pour day through the reviving world. He shall be as the light of a morning that is most serenely fair, without either storms to disturb, or clouds to obscure the glorious, the delightful dawn. Yea, his appearance shallbe "■ more beautiful," and his influence " more beneficial,* than the clear shining" of that grand luminary, after a night of set- tled gloom, and showers of incessant rain ; when his beams shed animating warmth, and vital lustre, on the tender grass impearl- ed with dews, and on all the green treasures of the teeming earth. As we have already contemplated the blessed Jesus under the amiable character of the Just One, the foregoing passage of Scripture represents him to our faith, in the more majestic quality of the Lord of Glory ; or rather unites the two grand^peculiarities which render him unparalleled in his per- sonal, and all-sufficient in his mediatorial capacity. Great, unspeakably great and glorious, would our Saviour appear, if we had no other manifestations of his excellency, than those which preceded his mysterious incar- nation. In the ancient scriptures, he stands characterised as the supreme object of God's ineflkble complacency ; vested with a glory, prior to the birth of time, or the existence of things ; even " the glory which he had with the Father before the world was." John xvii. 3. He is everywhere exhibited as the ultimate desire of all nations, the sole hope of all the ends of the earth, the seed of inestimable and universal importance, in whom all people, nations, and languages, should be blessed. In those royal, or ra- ther divine acts and monuments, he is pub- licly recognised as the Ruler of God's peo- ple ; whose dominion is an everlasting do- minion, and his kingdom from generation to generation. And how august, how venera- ble, is this sovereign ! since it was the highest honour of the most eminent saints, and renowned nionarchs,t to act as harbin- * Israelitish Swan — In allusion to those well known lines of the poet, " Multa DircEum levat aura cygnum." And not without a reference to the popular notion, that the swan sings the most melodious notes in its last moments. " Fuit hsc facundisenis quasi cygnea vol."— TULLY. » More beautiful, more beneficial, than the clear shining, 2 Sam. xxiii. 4.— Thus we have ventured to translate, or rather to paraphrase the words rrSiD- That the prefix often occurs in the acceptation f f comparative pre-eminence, is plain from a very re- markable passage in Psalm xix. 10. Where our m- spired author, quite ravished with the love of the sa- cred oracles, declares, " They are desirable beyond gold, even beyond the droppings of the honey-comb." If this sense is admitted, we shall have a tine com- parison, and a grand advance upon it ; acknowledgmg the insufficiency even of the strongest and brightest images, to represent the glory of Christ's kmgdom, and the benignity of his administration. Perhaps the translation may be too free and during, and not ap- prove itself to the exact critic. The sense, however, IS unquestionably just ; agreeable to the whole tenor of scripture; and can want no recommendation to the intelligent Christian. r^ ■ , . <- t Moses, tor instance, and Joshua, David, and So- lomon, were types, strongly marked types, of our great Lawgiver r.r.d DeUvircr, of our divine Rulei and Preacher. 3G3 THERON AND ASPASIO. gers. The splendour of the temple, the ricliness of its ornaments, and the solemnity of its services, were the ensigns of his gran- deur— were his sacred regalia, intended to usher him into the world with becoming state. Every inspired prophet was his herald ; deputed to blazon his perfections, or foretell his coming. Let us hear one speaking the sentiments of all : — " God the Saviour came from Teman, and the Holy One from Mount Paron. ,His glory covered the heavens, and the earth was full of his praise."* Thunders sounded his trumpet, and light- nings waved his banners. " Before him went the pestilence," for the destruction of his enemies ; but, for the deliverance of Is- rael, " he rode upon his horses and chariots of salvation. The mountains saw him, and they trembled ; the everlasting hills, and they bowed their heads. The abyss uttered her voice," and acknowledged his sover- eignty through her deepest caverns, " the towering surges lifted up their hands," and remained in a suspended posture while his people passed through the opening lines. Indeed, both depth, and height, and every creature, have paid him homage, and done him service. And shall not we, my dear Theron, "submit to his righteousness?" Submit ! Shall we not embrace it ; rely on it ; and, with joyful hearts, with triumphing tongues, say, " There is none, there is no- thmg like it !" 1 Sam. xxi. 9. Does not all mankind agree to estimate the merit of the practice according to the dignity of the person ? If a neighbour of in- ferior rank visit some poor afflicted wretch in a coarse garret, and on a tattered bed, it is no very extraordinary favour ; but if a lady of the first distinction, or a nobleman of the highest order, perform the same of- tice, it is a much more remarkable, a much more admired instance of self-denying cha- rity. On the foot of this calculation, to what a supereminent height will the worth- iness of our Lord's obedience rise? It will » See Hab. iii. The greatest part of which sublime ode refers to the wonderful works recorded by Moses and Joshua. It seems, especially in the oxordium, to be an imitation of that grand and majestic descrip- tion, with which the Jewish legislator introduces his last solemn benediction. Deut. xxxiii. — These works are, by Aspasio, ascribed to Christ, and I think it is demonstrably certain, that Jesus Christ is the Jeho- vah celebrated in the books of Moses, and in the writ- ings of the prophets. It is Christ, wlio dwelt in the burning bush, and walked in the burning fiery fur- nace. It is Christ, who wrought the miracles in Egypt, and the wonders in the field of Zoan. The temporal deliverer, and the eternal Redeemer of Is- rael, are one and the same. He is that Captain of the hosts of the Lord, who gave the nations as dust to their sword, and as driven stubble to their bow. Josh. V. 14. He is that Mighty One who punished thestout heart of the King of Assyria, who cut down the thick- est of his forest, and lopped his bough with terror. Isa. X. 34. He gave Moses his commission; gave Moses his law ; and was both the Lord, and the end, of that sacred, significant, mysterious economy. Compare 1 Cor. x. 9, with Numb. xxi. 6, 7- See Dan. iii. 25, Keb. iii. 3. 4. rise, like some magnificent edifice, whose basis rests upon the centre, whose dimensions fill the hemisphere, and whose turrets glitter in the sky : or rather, it will extend itself to immensity ; where length, and breadth, and all dimensions are Tost. Especially if we consider the names he bears, and the ho- nours he receives; the works he has done, and those mightier works he is appointed to do. The names he bears — The title by which Jesus of Nazareth is distinguished in the heavenly world ; the name written on his vesture, and on his thigh, is " King of kings, and Lord of lords." Rev- xix. 16. The de- scription which the incomprehensible Jeho- vah gives of the Surety for sinful men, runs in this exalted strain : " The Man that is my fellow,"* Zech. xiii. 7, which the apostle explains in that memorable and majestic clause: " He thought it no robbery to be equal with God."t Phil.ii. 6. The Holy Ghost speaking, by the great prophet Isaiah, of the virgin's son, enumerates several grand distinctions, both of his person and his office. He styles the child that should be born, " the Wonderful Counsellor, the Everlasting Father, the Mighty God, the Prince of Peace," Isaiah ix. 6- The same inspired writer, though eloquent above all orators, and more sublime than the loftiest poet, cries out in rapturous astonishment, " Who can declare his generation?" Isaiah liii. 8. What pencil can portray, what language can express, his matchless excel- lencies ? And may we not with equal pro- priety demand. Who can declare the meri- torious perfection of his righteousness ? It is precious beyond comparison ; beyond imagination precious. The honours which our Lord receives are proportioned to the illustrious characters which he sustains. John the Baptist, than whom a greater prophet or a better judge was not born of woman, professes himself unworthy " to stoop down and unloose the latchet of his shoes," Mark i. 7 ; unworthy, though a burning and shining light in his generation, to perform the meanest service to this prince of heaven. Stephen, who leads the van in the noble army of Christian martyrs, beheld such a representation of his crucified Master's glory, as enabled him to exult with divine delight, even amidst the • ^nylD " Contribulis vel coequalis," my fellow, or my equal. The original expression occurs no- where but in this verse of Zechariah, and in the book of Leviticus. In one text, it is explained by brother, or partaker of the same nature. In every other place, I believe it would be found to signify not barely a neighbour, but an equal ; one who stands upon the same level with regard to the claims of equity, and the common rights of life. In either sense, it mili- tates strongly for the divinity of our Lord Jesus Christ. t Some writers, I am aware, have endeavoured to interpret away this evidence of our Lord's divine na- ture: but I think with great injury to the context, and no less violence to the pl;rase. LETTER VIII. 869 furious assaults of his persecutors, and under the violent blows of his murderers, Acts vii. 3G. Assured that Jesus has all power in heaven and earth, by an act of the most solemn worship, he commits his departing soul, that most important of all trusts, to his Redeem- er's hand, Acts vii. 59. Nor by the first martyr alone, but in all churches of the saints, and in every age of Christianity, has the Lord Jesus been addressed as the con- stant object of his people's adoration, and acknowledged as the ever-faithful depository of their eternal interests. When Isaiah beheld a visionary manifes- tation of Christ,* the first-born sons of light were waiting around him in postures of duti- ful submission. These celestial beings, whose very feet are too bright for mortals to view, veil their faces before his infinitely superior ef- fulgence. The seraphs, who are all zeal and all love, celebrate his perfections, and cry one to another, " The whole earth is full of his glory." And is not heaven also filled with his gloiy ? does not heaven likewise resound with his praise ? The beloved dis- ciple, in a vision no less clear, and far more magnificent, beholds the Lamb that was slain, standing in the midst of a resplendent throne, most beautifully adorned with a circling rain- bow, and terribly dignified by the blaze of lightnings, and the sound of thunders. Be- fore this august throne, and at the disposal of the once slaughtered Saviour, are " seven limps of burning fire," expressive of the Di- vine Spirit in all the variety of his miracu- lous gifts and sanctifying graces. Rev. iv. 3. Four-and-twenty elders, clothed in white raiment, with crowns on their heads, and the liarps of God in their hands, fall prostrate in deepest homage before the Lamb. They strike the golden strings, and sing that su- blime eucharistic hymn, " Thou art worthy to take the book, and to open the seals there- of ; for thou wast slain, and hast redeemed us to God by thy blood, out of every kind- red, and tongue, and people, and nation ; and hast made us, unto our God, kings and priests. Rev. v. 9, 10. Behold the hierarchies of angels : they are in number ten thousand times ten thousand. —Hark ! they raise their voice, and awaken all the powers of harmony. Who is the sub- ject, and what is the burden of their song ? " Worthy is the Lamb that was slain, to re- ceive power, and riches, and wisdom, and strength, and honour, and blessing." Nor these alone, but every creature which is in heaven, and on the earth, and under the earth, and such as are in the sea, join the immense chorus. They cry, in loud responsive strains of melody and devotion, " Blessing, and ho- nour, and glory, and power, be unto him that sitteth upon the throne, and unto the Isa. vi. 1, 2, &c. oompared with John xii. 41. Lamb for ever and ever." Rev. v. 11, It, 13. This, you observe, is the devout acknow- ledgment, not only of the cherubim, the se- raphim, and the spirits of just men made perfect, but of every creature. The sun, the moon, and the stars, which garnish the hea- vens ; — beasts and creeping things, moun- tains and hills, fruitful trees and all cedars, which replenish the earth ; — metals and mi- nerals, gems and fossils, the subterraneous riches of nature, or things which are under the earth; — even all those objects which my The- ron lately contemplated, do, in their way, mag- nify the Lord Jesus. They bear witness to his power, as their Creator ; they are subser- vient to his interests, as our Mediator ; and in this manner they glorify his sacred name. Under such views of the blessed Redeem- er, eiilarged and elevated even to astonish- ment, is it possible to overrate the worth of his mediatorial obedience ? Is it possible to lay too much stress on his expiatory sacri- fice, or ascribe too much efficacy to his vica- rious righteousness. To the honours which he receives, let us add the works which he has done. By these, in the days of his flesh, were displayed the greatness of his glory, and the might of his Majesty. " Behold !" says the Almighty Father, " my servant," — he who condescends to be- come my servant in the matchless work of redemption — " shall deal prudently," shall conduct himself with all the dignity and all the sanctity of wisdom. In consequence of which, " he shall be exalted, be extolled, and be very high." Isa. lii. 13. The paraphrase of the Jewish commentators on this beauti- ful climax is, though inadequate, not con- temptible. " The Messiah," they say, " shall be higher than Abraliam, more illustrious than Moses, and exalted above the angels of light, even above the prime ministers* of heaven." What follows, is an attempt to render this exposition somewhat less defec- tive. Here, could you open my chamber-door, and peep upon your friend, you would find him in the same attitude, and under the same perplexity which were formerly observed in Phocion. Sitting One day amidst an assem- bly of the people, and preparing to make a public oration, he appeared uncommonly thoughtful. Being asked the reason, " I am considering," said he, " how I may shorten what I shall have occasion to speak." The compass of my subject would demand many volumes ; whereas the limits of my letter will allow but a few paragraphs. Our Lord gave sight to the blind. He poured day upon those hopeless and be- ♦ Prime ministers; this is ahnpst a literal transla- tion of the original words. 2b 370 niphtcd eyes which had never been visited with the least dawning ray. — The dumb, at his command, found a ready tongue, and burst into songs of praise — The deaf were all ear, and listened to the joyful sound of salvation — The lame, lame from their very birth, threw aside their crutches, and full of transport and exultation leaped like the bounding roe." He restored florid ity and beauty to the flesh emaciated by consuming sickness, or incrusted with a loathsome le- prosy. All manner of diseases, though blended with the earliest seeds of life, and rivetted in the constitution by a long invet- erate predominancy — diseases that baffled the skill of the physician, and mocked the force of medicine — these he cured, not by tedious applications, but in the twinkling of an eye ; not by csotly prescriptions or pain- ful operations, but by a word from his mouth or a touch from his hand : nay, by the fringe of his garment, or the bare act of his will. Any one of these miracles had been enough to endear the character, and eter- nize the memory of another person : But they were common things, matters of daily occurence with our divine Master. The years of his public ministry were an uninter- mitted series of such healing wonders; or if any intermission took place, it was only to make way for more invaluable miracles of spiritual beneficence. Behold him exercising his dominion over the vegetable creation. A fig-tree, adorned with the most promising spread of leaves, but unproductive of the expected fruit, withers away at his rebuke. It is not on- ly stripped of its verdant honours, but (hied up from the very roots, Mark xi. 20, and perishes for ever: A fearful, yet signifi- cant intimation of that final ruin which will overtake the specious hypocrite, who, while lavish in outward profession, is destitute of inward piety. His eye pierced through the whole world of waters, discerned the fish that had just swallowed a piece of silver coin, and guided THERON AND ASPASIO. its course to Peter's hook.* It is true, when the gatherers of the sacred tax came to collect his share for the reparation of the temple, he had not a sufficiency of money to satisfy so small a demand ;f yet he takes occasion, from this most abiect poverty, to manifest the immensity of his riches. He makes the great deep his revenue, and bids the scaly nations bring him their tribute. Never was such indigence associated with such magnificence ! And never, never let us forget, that the indigence was ours, the mag« nificence all his own ! The waters themselves, it may be said, are far more unmanageable than their inha- bitants. Who can control that outrageous element, which has destroyed so many gal- lant fleets, with the armies they bore ; and which would laugh at the opposition of the united world ? The Lord Jesus walks upon its rolling surges,^ and speaks its most tem- pestuous agitations into a calm. " The waves of the sea are mighty and rage terri- bly ;" but " yet the Lord," who loved us, and washed us from our sins in his own blood, " is mightier," Psalm xciii. 5- The winds are yet more ungovernable than the maddening ocean. When these are hurled abroad § to shatter the forests, and shake the shores, who can curb their rage ? what can withstand their impetuosi- ty ? Even the boisterous winds hear the Saviour's voice ; and as soon as they hear, obey. His voice, more powerful to restrain than brazen dungeons to confine, chides the furious whirlwind. The furious whirlwind is awed into immediatelj silence. That •(We have thefinest representation of this event, giv- en us by theinspired historian, Arts iii.H. And he leap- ing up, stood, and walked, and entered with them into the temple; walking, and leaping, and praisinij God. The very Janguageseems to exult, in a redundant flow of expressive phrases; just as a poor crijiple, who ne- ver linew either the comfort of bodily vigour, or tlie pleasure oflocal motion, may be supposed to do, when suddenly and unexpectedly blessed with both. He would exert his new acquired powers again and again, first in one attitude, then in another; sometimes to try whether he was really healed, and not under the pleasingdelusionof a dream, sometimes from a trans- port of conscious delight, and to express the sallies of joy that sprung up in his heart. Though I acknowledge Mr. Pope's description to be extremely beautiful, "The lame their crutch forego. And leap, exulting, like the bounding roe;" yet 1 cannot persuade myself, that it is to be compar- ed with St. Luke's draught, either in the variety of figures, in the richness of colouring, or in that exhu- berance of style, which, on this occasion, is so happi- ly significant, and so perfectly picturesque. * Matth. xvii.27. How wonderful is this seeming- ly little miracle ! or rather, what a cluster of wonders is comprised in this single act ! That any fish with money in its mouth, should be catched — with money just of such a value, — and in the very first fish that of- fered itself! What a pregnant display of omniscience to know, of omnipotence to overrule, all these for- tuitous incidents! t About fourteeii-pence. t He treadeth upon the waves of the sea, is one of the prerogatives ascribed to the most high God, Job. ix.8. The original word *n*r5i signifies " a sea that rolls mountain high :" and such, we have reason to suppose, were the waves on which our Lord walked, since the vessel to which he bent his course, was (ia/roivi^ofiiv/m, "lashed, battered, tormented," by their vehement concussions, Matth. xiv. 24. § This is a literal translation of that beautiful He- brew phrase which occurs Jonah i. 4. The sacred writer, describing the stormy messenger, which wasdes- patched to arrest a fugitive servant, says, bl&n "The Lord hurled forth a great wind." The same expression is applied to Saul, 1 Sam. xviii. IL when he darted his javelin at David, with a design to trans- fix and nail him to the wall. What an elegant, and how awful an image ! Storms and tempests, with all their irresistible fury, and dreadful ravages, are like missive weapons in the hands of Jehovah, which he launches with greater ease, and surer aim, than the most expert warrior emits the pointed steel. Immediate — This circumstance, as very much ag- grandizing themiracle, is with great historical proprie- ty, remarked by the evangelist. The sea is known to have a prodigious swell, and very tremendous agita- tions, for a considerable time after the tempestuous wind ceases. On this occasion, and in obedience to its Maker's will, it departs from the established laws of LETTER VIII. S71 ipv-hich a moment ago heaved the billows to the clouds, and filled with outrage the howl- ing firmament, now gently whispers among the shrouds, and scarcely curls the smooth expanse. Something there is, even within the nar- row compass of our own breasts, which af- fords room for more signal exertions of Deity, than the turbulent billows or the re- sistless storm. Agreeably to the suggestion of a prophet, " For lo ! he that formeth the mountains, and createth the wind ;", and as a more pregnant proof of divine perfec- tion, "deciareth unto man what is his thought, the God of hosts is his name," Amos. iv. 13; the possessor of such sur- passing power and wisdom, must unques- tionably he the supreme Lord. And who IS this, but Jesus Christ? "He knew what was in man,"* John. ii. 25. He dis- cerned the secrets of the heart ; discerned the latent purpose before it disclosed itself in action ; even before it was uttered in speech ; nay, while it lay yet an unformed embryo in the mind. His glance pierced into futurity ; espied events in all their circumstances, -j- and with the greatest perspicuity, before they came into being. The hidden things of darkness were open, and the contingencies of to- morrow were present, to his all-pervading eye. Nay, the unthought of revolutions even of distant ages, the astonishing catas- trophe of dissolving nature, and the awful process of everlasting judgment, he clear- ly foresaw, and particularly foretold. Nor does he only penetrate the recesses, but over-rule the operations of the soul. He so intimidated a multitude of sacrile- gious wretches, that they fled, not before his drawn sword or bent bow, but at the shaking of his scourge, ^1 John ii. 14. motion. No sooner is the word spoken, but there is a calm ; not an advancing, but an' instantaneous calm; not a partial, but a perfect calm, Matth. viii. 26 ; Mark iv. 30. • This all-discerning intelligence of the Deity is very emphatically expressed by the psalmist, Psal. cxxxix. 1, 2. &c. though the sentiment in one clause seems to be somewhat weakened by our version. There is not a word in my tongue would have anobler turn, and more extensive meaning, if rendered, "Before the word is on my tongue, thou, O Lord, knowest it altocether." + In all their circumstances. — See a very remarka- ble exemplification of this particular, Mark xiv. 13. There shall meet you — not barely a person, but the sex and age are both specified — not two, or several, but one man : — not within any given space of time, but at the very instant of your arrival ; — not empty- handed, l)ut bearing a vessel ; — not of wood or metal, but an earthen pitcher; — filled, not with wine or milk, but with water; — carrying it into that very house, where thepre]iaration was made, and the pess- over was to be celebrated. What a multitude of con- tingencies ! all minutely foretold by our Lord. t St. Jerome looks upon thii miracle as one of the greatest which our Saviour wrought. And indeed, the circumstances are very extraordinary. That one man should undertake to hold and execute so hazard- ous a task; — one man, without a commission from C.Tsar, without any countenance from the Jcwisli rulers, without any arms, cither to terrify the multi- tude or defend liiiun.-^lf. That he should "cast out the He so awed, by one short remonstrance, John viii. 7, an assembly of conceited and ostentatious Pharisees, that they could neither gainsay, nor endure the energy of his discourse ; though not to endure, was a tacit acknowledgment of guilt, |and must cover them with public confusion. With a word the most mild and gentle imaginable, John xviii. 6, he flung such terror into a band of armed men, as blasted all their courage, and laid them stunned and prostrate on the ground. " All hearts are in his hand. He turn, eth them as the rivers of water, whitherso- ever he will," Prov. xxi. 1 ; with as much ease, and with the same efficacious sway, as the current of the rivers is turned by every inflection ofthe channel- " Follow me," was his call to James and John ; " Follow me,"* Mark ii. 14, was all he said to Levi the publican. Though the first M'ere en- gaged in all the ardour of business ; though the last was sitting at the very receipt of custom, yet both he and they, without any demur, or the least delay, left their employ, left their nearest relations, and resigned their earthly all, to attend a poor and des- pised master. Their acquaintance, no doubt, would remonstrate a thousand incon- veniences, their enemies would not fail to censure them as rash enthusiasts : but all these considerations were lighter than dust, were less than nothing, when set in com- petition with two words only from Jesus of Nazareth. Impressed, deeply impressed by his powerful summons, such loss they counted gain, and such obloquy glory. He planted bowels of compassion in the unfeeling avaricious wretch, and elevated, beyond the height of the stars, desires that lay grovelling even below the mire of the swine. The slaves of sin he restored to the liberty of righteor.sness ; and unhappy crea- tures who were degenerated into the like- ness ofthe devil, he renewed after the image of the blessed God. These were the effects whole tribe of mercenary traffickers, %vrest from those worshippers of wealth their darling idol, and trample under foot their great Diana. And all, without tu- mult or opposition; not one of the sacrilegious rabUe daring to " move the hand, or open the mouth, or peep." Whoever reflects on the fierce and ungovern- able nature of an incensed populace, or considers the bitter and outrageous zeal of Demetrius and the craftsmen, on a less irritating occasion, may possibly find himself almost, if not altogether, of the Latin father's opinion. » He said in the beginning, " Let there be light;" there was light: Let there be a firmament;" it was spread abroad: " Let there be a world;" it arose of nothing. In the days of his flesh, likewise, he speaks, and it is done. His word is a work. He says to the disciples, " Follow me;" they come: To the leper, "Be clem;" he is cleansed: To the paralytic, " Arise, take up thy bed and walk ;" It is all perform- ed as soon as commanded. Surely then we must con- fess, this is the voice of a God, not of a man ! 1 tvx- SsiTia is our Lord's usual word, when he grants a mir. aculous cure, which exactly correspond, with that ad- mired and magnificent expression in the original. Gen. i. 3. 372 THERON AND ASPASIO. of his personal preaching ; these are still the conquests of his glorious gospel : And do not these declare his dominion over the in- tellectual economy ? that the world of minds, as well as of material nature, is open to his inspection, and subject to his con- trol ? The dead seem to be more remote from human cognizance than the secrets of the breast; less liable to any human jurisdiction than the warring elements. What potentate can issue a writ of release to the grave ? or cite the dislodged soul to re-enter the breathless corpse ? Yet this, even this, our mighty Mediator executed. He opened the eyes which were sunk in their sockets, and sealed in the tomb. He bid the heart that had forgot its vital motion, spring into renewed and vigorous life. The crim- son flood, long congealed by the icy hand of death ; which had not only lost its pulse by stagnation, but likewise changed its very texture by " putrefaction," John xi. 39, cir- culates at his order, all florid and mantling with health, through the wondering veins. The spirit, which had taken its flight into the invisible state, had taken its place in eternal habitations, returns at our Redeem- er's signal to the tenement of mouldering clay : and, by the amazing visit, proclaims his sovereignty over those unknown realms and their mysterious inhabitants. As he recalls from, so he admits into the abodes of future happiness. In the very lowest depths of his humiliation, he dispos- ed of the seats of bliss, and the thrones of glory. His hands, when swollen with wounds, and nailed to the tree, evidently sustained " the keys of hell and of death," Rev. i. 18. Then, even then, he opened and he shut either the gates of the grave or the portals of paradise. What he speaks to the penitent thief is the language of su- preme authority -. " To-day shalt thou be with me in paradise," Luke xxiii. 43. It is a royal mandamus, not a humble petition. Does our Lord's superiority extend to those malignant beings, the devil and his angels? Even these, in spite of all their formidable strength," and inextinguishable rage, he makes his footstool. He brake the teeth of those infernal lions, and rescued the helpless prey on which their bloody jaws were closing. At his command they aban- don their conquests, and relinquish, however indignant, however reluctant, their long ac- customed habitations. His single command, more forcible than ten thousand thunder- bolts, dispossesses a whole legion, Mark v. 9, of those fierce and haughty spirits ; drives them, all terrified and deprecating severer vengeance, to seek rest in solitary deserts, or to herd with the most sordid brutes. As the blessed Jesus treads upon the necks of those powers of darkness, he re- ceives the willing services of the angels of light. They that excel" in strength, and are activt as flames of fire, even they fulfil his commandment, and hearken unto the voice of his words. They graced the so- lemnity of his birth ; they attended him af- ter his temptation in the wilderness ; they were the first joyful preachers of his tri- umphant resurrection ; and, now he is seat- ed on the right hand of the Majesty in the highest, — They stand with wings outspread. Listening to catch their Master's leastcommand. And fly through nature, ere the moment end. Behold him now doing according to his will in the armies of heaven, and among the inhabitants of the earth ; swaying the scep- tre over the legions of hell, and the powers of nature ; exercising dominion in the hearts of men, in the territories of the grave, and mansions of disembodied spirits. Then let my Theron determine — under such views of our Saviour's unequalled majesty and un- bounded sovereignty, let him determine — whether it be safer to rest our infinite and eternal interests on our own righteousness rather than on his. We have selected some few manifesta- tions of our Redeemer's excellent greatness. Even the evangelical historians give us no larger a proportion of his astonishing deeds, than the first fruits bear to a copious har- vest. Yet, were they all particular!-y enu- merated, and circumstantially displayed, they would appear inconsiderable, compared with those far more distinguished trophies of al- mighty power which he has decreed in some future period to erect.t ■^ Milton, describing the power of the apostate an- gels, says, The least of whom could wield These elements : and arm him with the force Of all their regions.— BooA; vi. 1. 221. * Would anyoneseeasketchof the glory and excel- lence of the angelic nature? Let him see it in that inimitably fine stroke of the sacred pencil : I saw an- other angel come down from heaven, having great power, and the earth was lightened with his gloi-y. Rev. xviii. 1. The last clause is, I think, one of the most masterly touches of descriptive painting extant in history, poetry, or oratory. Milton gives us a stric- ture of the same kind, and on the same subject. But the poetic flight, though very sublime, is absolutely inferior to the apocalyptic vision. On he led His radiant files, dazzling the moon. In this case, we have a whole brigade of celestial warriors; in the former, only a single angelic being. Those are represented as irradiating the night, and outshining the moon ; this, as exceeding the bright- ness of the sun ; diffusing additional splendours on the day; and illuminating, not a vast plain, not a vaster kingdom, but the whole face of the globe. If such be the lustre of the servant, what images can dis- play the majesty of the Lord ? who has thousand thousands of these glorious attendants ministering imto him, and ten thousand times ten thousand stand- ing before him ? Dan. iii. 10. t The dignity of our Lord, considered as the Cre- ator and Preserver of all things, is not mentioned here; because something of this kind is professedly attempted in the " Descant upon Creation,", sub- joinea to the " Meditations among the TonAs," LETTER VIU 373 He will gather to his sacred fold the peo- ple of his ancient church, though they are dispersed into all lands, and most inveter- ately prejudiced against the truth of his gos- pel. How mighty was his hand, how illustriously outstretched his arm, when he made a path through the surges of the ocean, drove the torrent of Jordan backwards, and fetched rivers of water from the flinty rock ! Far more mighty will be its operations, when he shall remove the seemingly insurmount- able obstructions to the general restoration of the Jews ; shall throw all their religious ap- prehensions into a new channel ; and cause tears of penitential sorrow to start from their stony eyes, confessions of unfeigned faith to issue from their blaspheming lips — Yet thus it will assuredly be. In the volume of the divine book it is written, " They shall look on him whom they have pierced, and mourn." Zech. xii. 10. They shall adore as the Messiah the once despised Galilean, and fix all their hopes of final felicity on that very person whom their fathers slew and hanged on a tree. Amazing revolution in the religious world ! Yet this, together with the destruction of Antichrist, and the illumination of the be- nighted Gentiles, may pass for small inci- dents, compared with those stupendous events, which will dignify and signalize the closing scene of affairs. Then shall the Lord Jesus be manifested in unspeakable glory, and exert such acts of omnipotence as will be the terror of hell, the joy of heaven, the wonder of eternity. Then will he put an end to time, and bid the springs of nature cease to operate. Then shall his tremendous trumpet rend the universal vault, and pierce the dormi- tories of the dead. Then will he " shake the earth out of its place," Job ix. 6, and before his majestic presence the " heavens shall flee away."' Then shall, not a nation &c. To which I beg leave to refer my readers ; ami shall more than make amends for the present omission, by transcribingapassagefrom Ihc " Night Thoughts," which presents us with a magnificent display of this great truth. Thou, by whom all worlds Weie made, and one redeem'd ; whose regal power On more than adamantine basis fix'd. O'er more, far more than diadems and thrones Inviolably reigns; beneath whose foot. And b}^ the mandate of whose awful nod. All regions, revolutions, fortunes, fates, Of high, of low, of mind and matter, roll Through the short channels of expiring time. Or shoreless ocean of eternity. Niffht Thovffhts, No. 'X * How grand is the idea, when David prays, " Bow thy heavens, O Lord, and come down : touch the mountains, and they shall smoke." Much grander is the image, when he says, " The springs of waters were seen, and the foundations of the world were dis- covered, at thy chiding, O Lord, at the blast of the breath of thy displeasure." Transcendently and ini- itiitably grand is this description, though given us by the most plain and artless writer in the world: " I saw a great white throne, and him that sat on it, from whose face the heavens and the earth fled away. only, but multitudes, multitudes of nations, " be born in a day," Isa. Ix. 8, yea, rather, in an hour, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye. All that are asleep in the beds of death ; even those who, perishing in tem- pests, are sunk to the bottom of the ocean, or, swallowed up by earthquakes, are bu- ried at the centre of the globe — all shall hear his voice; and hearing, shall awake; and awaking, shall come forth. Every hu- man body, though ages have revolved since it gave up the ghost ; though worms have devoured the flesh, and dissolution moulder- ed the bones ; though its parts have been grinded by the teeth of beasts, or consum- ed by the rage of fire j dissipated in view- less winds, or scattered over the boundless globe ; lost to our senses, and lost even to our imagination — yet will every human body then be restored; its limbs re-as- sembled, and not an atom wanting ; its frame rebuilt, and never be demolished more. Then shall the unnumbered myriads of departed spirits return from their separate abodes ; and, commissioned by him " who is the resurrection and the life," reanimate each his organized system. Then shall Satan and his accomplices, those execrable and horrid criminals, be dragged from their dungeons of darkness, and receive their doom at the Redeemer's tribunal. Then will misery and happiness, both consum- mate, and both everlasting, be awarded by the Saviour's sentence. Then will he con- sign over the ungodly world, and the rebel- lious angels, to the flames of hell, and to agonies of despair. Then will he invest the righteous with the inheritance of hea- ven, and instate them in the fulness of joy. His word is fate ; immutability seals, and eternity executes, whatever he decrees. And has this Jesus, so glorious so ma- jestic, so adorable — has he vouchsafed to take om- nature, and become our righteous - and there was no place found for them." Rev. xx. Jl. In Virgil's admired representation, Jupiter hurls his thunder, and a moiuitain falls at the stroke : — " Ille flagranti Aut Atho, ?.ut nhodopen, aut alta Ceraunia telo Dejicit." Georg. I. 331. In Homer's more terror-striking piece, Neptune shakes the wide extended earth. The mountains tremble to their centre ; the ocean heaves its billowi and cities reel on their foundations ; — Awra^ ivi^B^- TI/xrli^aiAiv iriva^i 1 cctocv a.'Titpzf t'/,Vj opeatv *r atzitinz xa.p'/jv^' \\.a.i x,optj'^(/.i,'V puutTi irohi;. xu.) vsjsf A.^cciuv Iliad X- 57. Here the son of the eternal God appears only, and all nature is alarmed ; nor heaven nor earth can keep their standing; they tiee away, like the frighted roe. How groveiliiig are the loftiest flights of the Grecian and Roman muse, comv)ared with this magnificence and elevation of the prophetic spirit ! 374 THERON AND ASPASIO. ness ? was he made under the law ? did he fulfil all its demands ? give perfect satisfac- tion to the penal, and yield perfect obedi- ence to the preceptive? on purpose that the merit of all might be made over to us ? Astonishing condescension ! ineffable grace ! What thanks are due to such infinitely rich goodness ! What a remedy is here, for the impotence and guilt of fallen man ! What a sure foundation of hope, and what an abundant source of joy, to every one that believeth ! It is declared by the Oracle of God, " That such Sacred, substantial, never-tading bliss. Thomson's fVinter. Wrapt in wonder, and lost in thought, I rambled carelessly along, till I was insensi- bly brought to the shore, which, in these parts is prodigiously high and strong, per- fectly well fitted to stand as an everlasting banier* against the impetuous stroke of con- flicting winds, and the ponderous sweep of dashing surges. Not that the omnipotent Engineer has any need of these impregna- ble ramparts. Here it is true, they inter- vene, and not only repress the rolling in- vader, but speak the amazing majesty of their Maker. In other places, all such la- boured methods of fortification are laid aside. The Creator shows the astonished world that he is confined to no expedients, but orders all things " according to the plea- sure of his ov.'z\ %vill." He bids a low bank of despicable sand receive and repel the most furious shocks of assaulting seas ; and " though the waves thereof toss themselves" with incredible fierceness, yet can they not prevail ; though " they roar," and seem to menace universal destruction, " yet can they not pass over,'' Jer. v. 22, this slight- est of mounds. A winding passage broke the declivity of the descent, and led me by a gradual slope to the bottom. The moon being in her last quarter, and the tide at its greatest re- cess, I walked for a while, where briny waves were wont to flow. The ebbing wa- ters had left a vacant space several furlongs broad, equal in length to a very extended vista, smooth on its siu'face as the most le- vel bowling-green, and almost as firm as the best compacted causeway. Insomuch that the tread of a horse scarce impresses it, and the waters of the sea never penetrate it. Ex- clusive of this wise contrivance, the search- ing waves would insinuate themselves into the heart of the earth -. the earth itself woidd be hollow as a honey- comb, or bibu- lous as a sponge ; and the sea, soaking by degrees thi'ough all its cavities, would in process of time forsake its bed, and mingle with the plains and mountains. But this closely cemented or glutinous kind of pave- ment, is like claying the bottom of the uni- versal canal; so that the returning tides consolidate, rather than perforate its sub- stance, and prevent the sun from cleaving it * These, doubtless, " are the doors and the bars," which the Almighty mentions in the course of his awful interrogatories to Job : the massy doors, which can never be forced : the solid bars, which can never be broke; and, I may add, the conspicuous colurnng on whicli his Providence has inscribed that sovereigp mandate, " Ne plus ultra." Or, as the prohibition runs in his own majestic words, " Hitherto shalt thou go, but no farther." Job xxxviii. 10. LETTER IX. 377 with chinks. Such, I hope, will be the case with this soiil of mine, amid the temp- tations that beset me. Beset me they do, they will ; but may they never win upon my affections, nor gain admittance into my heart! Let them make me humble, and keep me vigilant ; teach me to walk closely with my God, and urge me to an incessant dependance on Christ- Then, instead of being ruinous, they may become advanta- geous ; and instead of shattering, will only cleanse the rock on which they dash. The mighty waters, restless even in their utmost tranquillity, with a'solemn but placid murmur struck my ear. The billows some- times advancing to kiss the sand, sometimes drawing back their curly heads into the deep, whitened at their extremities into an agreeable foam ; which, with the reflexive representation of the azure canopy, formed the appearance of a most spacious floating mantle, tinged with a beautiful blue, and edged with fringes of silver. Dignity and elegance, I find, are the inseparable charac- teristics of the Creator's workmanship ; as comfort and happiness, I sometimes per- ceive, are the very spirit of his gospel, and the genuine produce of its commands. On one side, the Atlantic main rolled its siu'ges from world to world — Immense, im- mense diflfusion of waters ! What a spectacle of magnificence and terror ! What an irri- sistible incitement to reverence and awe ! How it fills the mind and amazes the ima- gination ! It is the gi-andest and most august object under the whole heavens. It reminds me of that apocalyptic vision which .John, the enraptured seer, beheld ! " As it were a great mountain burning with fire, was cast into the sea, and the third part of the sea became blood, and the third part of the crea- tures which were in the sea, and had life, died ; and the third part of the ships were destroyed," Rev. viii. 8, 9. I have not pe- netration enough to" discover the spiritual meaning of this passage ; but I discern a most dreadful gi'andeur in its plain and liter- al sense. If we consider the wonderfid com- pass and the terrible force of such an enor- mous mass of fire : if we consider its hor- rible and destructive effects on such a vast body of waters as the third part of the ocean ; how tremendous and astonishing is the idea ! Surely nothing but divine inspii"- ation could suggest these images ; as none but an almighty Being can execute this ven- geance ! Who would not fear an eternal King, that has such weapons, and such ar- tillery reserved against the day of battle and war ? Job xxxviii. 23. Spacious as the sea is, God has provided a garment to cover it. Profound as the sea is, God has prepared swaddling-bands to in- wrap it. Ungovernable as it may seem to us, he overrules it with as mucli ease as the nurse manages a new born infant, Job xxxviii. 8, 9. An infant it is before al- mighty power, and to an infant it is com- pared by Jehovah himself: though, to our apprehension, it raves like a stupendous madman. But if he command, it opens a peaceful bosom, and receives his people. It smooths the way for their passage, and stands as a bulwark for their defence. They march " through the midst of the sea upon dry ground, and the waters are a wall unto them on their right hand and on their left," Exod. xiv. 22. If he reverses his mandate, they drive down with an irresistible sweep, upon the hosts of Pharaoh, and overwhelm the chariots and horses of Egypt. They pour confusion upon arrogance,* and disap- point the designs of persecution and cruel- ty. If he says " Be still," the bellowing surges are hushed, and the gentlest lamb is not so quiet. If he says, " Destroy," even the quiescent waters kindle into rage ; they rise in their Maker's cause, and ten thousand lions, stung with hunger and rush- ing upon their prey, are not so fierce. When he bids them execute any other com- mission, the horse broke to the bit, tl)e spaniel disciplined to the signal, are not half so dutiful and obsequious. And shall our passions be more wild than the winds, more turbulent than the billows ? Forbid it, al- mighty Lord ! " Thou that rulest the rag- ing of the sea, and the noise of his waves, restrain, subdue, and calm the madness of the people." The eye travels hard : It wanders over a vast, vast length of fluctuating plains. It reaches the limits of the hemisphere where skies and waves seem to mingle. Yet it has scarce made an entry upon the world of waters. What I here discern, is no more than the skirts of the great and wide sea. Tracts incomparably broader arestiU behind ; and tracts of unbounded extent are behind even those. Great then, O my soul, incon- ceivably great, is that adored and glorious sovereign, who sitteth upon this flood as upon a throne ! Psal. xxix. 10 ; nay, who holds it, diffused as it is from pole to pole, in the hollow of his hand ; and before whom, • Arrogance— Thii is described with exquisite de- licacy, in the EjT/v/x/ov, or triumphant song of Mo- ses. " The enemy said, 1 will pursue, I will overtake, I will divide the spoil, my lust shall be satisfied upon them, I will drawmy sword, mine hand shall destroy them." What swelling words of vanity are here ! — The very spirit of a Thraso breathes in every syllable of this beautiful prosopopsia. Never was the lan- guage of bluster, ferocity, andrhodomontade, so fine- ly mimicked. How noble is the turn, and how exalt- ed the sentiment which follows ! " Thou didst blow with thy wind, the sea covered them, they sank as lead in the mighty waters." The God of Israel neeil not summon all his power, or level the right-aiming thunderbolts : he only blows with his winds, and the great mountain breaks like a bubble. All this inso- lent and formidable parade is quashed : sinks into no- thing, expires in shame and ruin, Exod. xv.9. 10. 378 THERON AND ASPASIO. in all its prodigious dimensions, it is but as the drop of a bucket. How shall reptiles of the ground sink low enough in their own apprehensions ? What humiliation can be sufficiently deep for sinful mortals before this high and holy One ! Yet how may they rise on the wings of hope ! how may they soar on the pinions of faith ! when, in the language of his prophet, and in his own Son's name, they thus address the everlast- ing God. " Awake ! Awake ! put on strength, O arm of the Lord ! awake for our succoiu* and security, as in the ancient days, in the generations of old. Art thou not it that hath cut Rahab, and wounded the dragon ? Art thou not it which hath dried the sea, the waters of the great deep ? that hath made the depths of the sea a way for the ransom- ed to pass over? Isa. li. 9, 10. How grand, surprisingly grand and majes- tic are the works as well as the attributes of an omnipotent Being ! What are all the ca- nals in all the countries of the earth com- pared with this immense reservatory ! WTiat are all the superb edifices erected by royal munificence, compared with yonder concave of the skies ! And what are the most pom- pous illuminations of theatres and triumph- ant cities, compared with the resplendent source of day ! They are a spark, an atom, a drop. — Nay, in every spark, and atom, and drop, which proceeds from the hand of the Almighty, there is the manifestation of a wis- dom and a power absolutely incomprehen- sible. Let us examine a single drop of water, the very least quantity that the eye can discern ; only so much as will just adhere to the point of a needle. In this almost imperceptible speck, a famous philosopher computes no less than thirteen thousand globules. Amaz- ing to conceive ! impossible to explicate ! — If, then, in so small a speck, abundantly more than ten thousand globules exist, what myriads of myriads must tioat in the unmea- sured extent of the ocean ! — Let .the ablest arithmetician try to comprehend in his mind, not the internal constitution, but only the number of these fluid particles. As well may he grasp the ninds in his fist, or mete out the iinivei'se with his span, as execute the task. If, then, we are utterly unable to number (which is the most superficial of all researches) even the most common works of the great Jehovah ; how can we pretend to lay open the secrets, and pene- trate the recesses of his infinite mind ! How can we pretend to investigate the whole pro- cess, and solve all the difficulties of that highest and deepest of the divine schemes, redemption ! I have sometimes been offended, I "must confess, when you have enlarged upon the mysterious truths of Christianity. But I perceive the beam was in my own eye, when I fancied the mote was in my friend's. Is there, in every ray of light, and in every par- ticle of matter, a depth of contrivance un- fathomable by the line of any human under- standing? And shall there be nothing abstruse or profound, nothing but what is level to our scanty apprehensions, in the " great things," Hos. viii. 1 2, of God's law, and the " glorious things" Acts. ii. 11, of his gospel? To expect this is just as wise in itself, and just as congruous to nature, as to expect a sea, whose cavities might havebeen digged by our spade; — a sky, whose arches are mea- surable by our compass ; — a sun, whose orb may be included in our lanterns. When, therefore, I read of One uncreat- ed and eternal Being, subsisting in Three divine Persons ; when I hear of an infinite- ly pure and perfect God, made flesh for the redemption of sinful men ; when I meditate upon the righteous and universal Judge, recon- ciling the world unto himself by the death of his own Son ; when a thousand curious and inquisitive thoughts are ready to arise on the occasion : I will bid them flrst sound the depths of a single drop, and then apply their plummet to the boundless ocean. "This I am very sure, is not weak credulity, nor wild enthusiasm ; but the maturest dictate of reason, and the very precision of truth. Let then the Great Creator make that su- blime declaration : " As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts," Isa. Iv. 9. Let every human crea- ture add that humble acknowledgment, " O the depths of the riches, both of the wis- dom and knowledge of God ! How unsearch- able are his judgments, and his ways past finding out !" Rom. xi. 33; and not devotion only, but reason and truth will say " Amen" to both. You see, Aspasio, how I am trying to adopt your spirit. You wiU observe the willing scholar, though not the great profi- cient. But stay ! Is this right ? to divert from such commanding subjects, and take notice of mere punctilios ? My friend may spare his frowns : I am surprised and angry at myself. Away with the little arts of self-recommendation. Self should be for- got, should be swallowed up and lost in devout astonishment, when we are viewing the magnificence, and meditating on the wonders of creation. Behind me, and far off to the north, Cam- bria's dusky coasts just, and but just emerg- ed. Lost were all her woods and moun- tains. Instead of ornamented towns and cultivated jjlains, a confused mist, or a low- hung cloud, seemed to hover on the ocean's remotest brim. Behind me ! Remembrance is roused at the expression, and conscience sharpens her sting. Ah ! how often, and how long have I treated in this very man- LETTER IX. 379 tier, the noUcst scenes, and the siiblimest joys ! have turned my back — ungrateful and besotted creature ! — upon the heavenly country, and wandered from the regions of infinite delight ! Therefore now they ap- pear dim. I have scarcely a glimpse of their transcendent excellencies. Or if I Bee them by faith, it is with frequent inter- missions, and much obscurity. Turn me, O thou God of my salvation, turn me from pursuing phantoms, and attach me to thy blessed self. Let me henceforth steer an invariable course to Emmanuel's kingdom. May its treasures, as I advance, open to my view, and its glories brighten in my eye. 0 ! may some odours, better, far better, than Sabsean spicy odours,* exhale from the delectable hills and the celestial shores ! — But chiefly, thou etenial Spirit, breathe upon ray soul, both by thy convincing and comforting influences ! nor ever cease to swell my sails, and speed my progress, till 1 arrive at " the land that is very far off, and see the King," the King of grace and of glory, " in all his ineffable beauty." Isa. xxxiii. 17- On my left hand, a range of mountain- ous cliffs rose in a pei"pendicular direction. The huge pile extended, as far as the sight could discern, its black boundaries. Here bending hiwards to the land ; there bellying out into the deep ; everywhere projecting a shade several leagues across the ocean. The height of these cliffs so prodigious, that eveiy human creature who comes near the summit starts back terrified and aghast. Only a few straggling goats venture to graze on the top ; and these, to a person walking below, appear but as specks of moving white ; while the sea-mews, that winnow the air about the middle steep, look like winged animalcides pursuing their little sports in a different region. The aspect of these cliffs, so wild and horrid, it is im- possible to behold thain without a shivering dread. The spectator is apt to imagine, that nature had formerly suffered some vio- lent convulsions, or been shattered by the flaming bolts, and that these are the dis- membered remains of the dreadfid stroke ; the ruins, not of Persepolis or Palmyra, but of the world ! Amazing ! What adventurous daring creature is yonder gathering samphire from the cavities of the rocks ! He has let him- self down several fathoms beneath the black and dizzy summit. He gleans a * Alluding to these lines in Milton ! As when to them who sail Beyond the Cape of Hope, and now are past Mosambic, off at sea north-east winds blow Sabiean odour from the spicy shore Of Araby the Bless'd, and many a league Cheer'd with the grateful smell old ocean smiles. Buok IV. 1. isy. poor livelihood, from the edges of danger shall I say ? rather, from the jaws of death. 1 cannot discern the rope to which he clings. He seems to be suspended over the tremendous precipice by a thread, by a hair, by nothing. — I will look no longer. The veiy sight chills my veins. While I view his perilous elevation, I can think of nothing but a headlong downfall and frac- tured bones ; of brains left to reek on the pointed crags, and blood streaming on the discoloured beach. Suppose (if the mind can bear so shock- ing a supposition) some poor wretch, ex- posed on the brow of this stupendous pro- montory ; wthout any support for his feet ; and cleaving only to a weak slender shrub, which but just adheres to the interstices of the rock : what tumidtuous throbbings seize his breast ! what a dying paleness in- vades his cheeks ! and what agonies of fear rend his heart, as he hangs projecting over the ragged precipice ; and surveys the ocean, deep, wondrous deep, below ! The bough gives way. His only hope fails. It yields more and more to his weight. Good hea- vens ! he sinks ! he sinks ! — O ! for some friendly hand, to snatch him from perishing ! Millions, millions of gold, were the cheap purchase of such a mercy. There was a time, my soid, when thou wast in a situa- tion, equally, shall I say ? infinitely more dangerous ; tottering, not only on the verge of life, but on the very brink of hell. Re- member that compassionate arm, which was stretched out, in the very article of need, to rescue thee from imminent and everlast- ing perdition. Never forget that gracious voice which said, in accents sweeter than the music of the seraphic choir, " Deliver him from going down into the pit. Let his health be restored, and his day of grace be prolonged." In some places, the hideous ruhis not only tower to the skies, but lean over the strand. Prominent and frightfully pendu- lous, they nod horror, and threaten destruc- tion on all below. A person congratulates himself when he has got clear of the bend- ing precipice, and can hardly forbear think- ing that the enormous load is withheld by some unseen hand, till the execrable wretch, doomed to a most astonishing vengeance, is come within reach of the blow. And truly, if he had the strength of the elephant, or the firmness of the behemoth, this must grind him to powder, or even crush liim into atoms. How awful to consider, that there is a day coming, when wicked potentates ana haughty monarchs will beg of yonder seas to yawn compassionately deep, and hide them in their darkest abysses — hide them from the piercing eye and avenging sword of inflexible justice : That there is a day 3S0 THERON AND ASPASIO. coming, when the soft voluptuary, the wan- ton beauty, and all the ungodly of the earth, will beseech these tremendous ridges, with all their unsupportiible burden of craggy rocks, to rush down upon their guilty heads ! Rev. iv. 15, 16, if by this means they may be screened from the infinitely more dreaded weight of divine indignation. Vain are their cries ; and vainer still would be their refuge, should their passion- ate requests be granted. Can floods con- ceal the impious wretches, when the caverns of the ocean shall be laid bare, and the foinidations of the world be discovered ? Can rocks secrete an obnoxious rebel, when rocks, with all their marble quarries and adamantine entrails, shall dissolve like melt- ing wax ? when hills, that plunge their roots to the centre, and lose their towering heads in air, shall start from their afl^righted base,* and flee away like a withered leaf? Good God !t what racking angiush must they feel ! what inexpressibly severer torment must they fear ! who can implore, ardently im- plore as a most desirable favour, what ima- gination itself shudders to concei\'e. In some places, these mountainous decli- vities lift their brow aloft, plant their basis deep, and, instead of portending a full, defy the fury of the most impetuous elements. * This brings to our remembrance a most sublime descrijition of the divine power, which arises in a beautiful climax, and terminates in this grand idea : " The voice of the Lord is mighty in operation, the voice of the Lord is a glorious voice. The voice of the Lord breaketh the cedars; yea the Lordbreaketh the cedars of Lebanon. He maketh them also to skip like a calf ; Lebanon and Sirion like a young unicorn." Psalm xxix. 4 — 6. The voice of the Lord ismighty in operation. This is the general proposition, which, in the following sentences, we see most magnificently illustrated. The voice of the Lord breaketh the cedars, when he speaKs in thunder, and bids the lightning execute hisorders. the trees, the cedar trees, those sturdiest productions of the earth, are shivered to pieces. Yea, the Lord breaketh the cedars of Lebanon, which forstateliness and strength, surpass the oaks of the forest, surpass every tree of the field, almost as much as the oak ex- ceeds a shrub. It is a small thing with Jehovah, to rend the trunks, to tear up the roots, and make those massy bodies skip like a calf, even Lebanon and Sirion, the mountains on which they grow, tremble before their God. They are thrown into strange commotions; they are ready to spring from theii foundations; and with all their load of woods and rocks, apiiear like some aftVighted or some sportive animal, that starts with horror, or leaps with exulta- tion. ) GoodCvd! — This exclamation is introduced on a very serious occasion, and used with an apparent air of reverence. Under which circumstances, jier- haiis, it may be sometimes allowable, and not dishon- ourable to the divine Majesty. Hut when it is ad- mitted into ordinary conversation, on trifling occur- rences, and with a levity of temjier, it is itself a very great offence, and discovers a very irreligious spirit. It is so great an offence, that the God of heaven and earth declares himself the avenger of all such trans- gressors. He will not hold them guiltless, or he will assuredly punish them. And if God condemn, who shallacquit? If he will punish, who can deliver from his hand ? It discovers a very irreligious spirit ; is a most dangerous symptom, somewhat like a jilague spot on the conversation. It shows that there is no saving health, n(i life of God in thcsoul. W'as there any sen- sibility in the conscience, any grace in the heart, it would be impossible totrealso wantonly and so prc- sumjituously that glorious and fearful name, the Lord thy God. Dcuf. xxviii. S!(. Firmly consolidated, and ste!>dfastly esta- blished, they have withstood the imited, the repeated assaults of winds and waves, through a long series of revolving ages. The sacred writers, I observe, select almost all the striking images which the whole crea- tion affords, in order to communicate their heavenly ideas with the greatest advantage. Isaiah, describing the security of the right- eous, takes his comparison from the grand spectacle before my eyes : " He shall dwell on high ; his place of defence shall be the munitions of rocks," Isaiah xxxiii. 16, inac- cessible as those lofty ridges, immoveable as their everlasting foundations. Should it be asked, what these munitions of rocks may signify ? I find two places of refuge and safeguard pointed out in scrip- ture ; to either of which, I believe, the me- taphor is applicable. " He had horns," says one of the divine pindarics, " coming out of his hand ; there was the hiding of his power," Hab. iii. 5. Uncontrollable and omnipotent power was lodged in the great Jehovah's hand ; and this was the sure de- fence, this the impregnable garrison, for all his people. The church of .Christ is said to be " in the clefts of the rock,f Cant. ii. 14 ; that " spiritual rock," of which the Is- raelites drank in the wilderness ; whose sa- cred clefts were opened when the bloody spear tore up the Redeemer's side, and cut a wide and deadly passage to his heart. Surely, " the inhabitants of this Rock have j'eason to sing, Isa. xlii. ] 1 . What should disquiet them? Who can destroy them? Why should not the voice of joy be in their d\\ellings, and that hymn of holy triumph in their mouths, " AVe have a strong city. Salvation hath God appointed, salvation * Horns were an emblem of strength. A horn of salvation is put for a mighty and effectual salvation, Luke ii. (19. Thou hast heard me from among the horns of the unicorns ; thou hast rescued me from the most potent and formidable enemies, Psal. xxii. 21. Here the word seems to denote thatpower of Jehovah, to which nothing is imjiossible, and more than seems, if we consult the next clause. There was the hiding of his power ; or, as it may be rendered, " his power- ful hiding," a most secure refuge, a sanctuary abso- lutely inviolable. I haveaccommodated this passage to a different sense. See Meditations. But the true sig- nification, most suitable to the context, and most sub- servient to the prophet's design, is, I apprehend, given by Theron. It is something like an exalted sentiment in the Night Thoughts, which, with a small altera- tion, may serve as a paraphrase on the text : And nature's shield the hollow of his hand. A Christian's shield the hollow of his hand, ■f Should the reader have an inclination to see this sacred, but mysterious book ex))lained, I \^•0llld refer him to Dr Gill's Exposition of the Canticles: which has such a copious vein of sanctified invention run- ning through it, and is interspersed with such a variety of delicate and brilliant images, as cannot but highly entertain a curious mind; which presents usalsowith such richandcharmingdisplaysof the glory of Christ's person, the freeness of his grace to sinners, and the tenderness of his love to the church, as cannot but ad- minister the most cxipiisite delight to the believing soul. Considered in both these views, I think the work resembles the paraiUsaical garden described by Milton, in which Blossoms and fruits at once of golden hue. Ai>j»ear'd with gay cnamell'd colours mix'd. LETTER IX. 381 itself ""for walls and bulwarks," Isa. xxvi. 1. Happy should I think myself, if I was in- terested in this Saviour, and established on this Rock. Yonder, on the summit of the most con- spicious cliff, is erected a grand and stately j)ile. At the top, my glass discovers a su- perb lantern ; at the foot, are the huts of fishermen, surrounded with various sorts of nets. It is, I suppose, a light-house ; in- tended to apprise the sailor of devouring gulfs, and destructive shoals ; or else to conduct him into a safe road, and secure harbour. Both the situation and design of the building read me a lesson ; the one of awful admonition, the other of comfortable in- struction— Comfortable instruction : How massy and ponderous is the edifice ! yet there is not the least reason to be appre- hensive of a failure in the foundation. Was the stnicture ten thousand times larger, the solid rock would support it with the utmost ease, and the utmost steadiness. Such is Christ, such are his merits, such his glorious righteousness, to those wise and blessed souls, who rest all the weight of their everlasting interests on him alone. Such, did I say ? Much surer. For " the mountains may de- part, and the hills may be removed, Isa liv. 10 ; but this divine basis can never sink, can never be shaken — Awful admo nition ; For it recals to my memory that alarming yet welcome text,* which you styled the spiritual light-house ; which has been as serviceable to my distressed mind and be- wildered thoughts, as such an illuminated watch-tower to the wandering and benight. ed mariner. May I often view it ; ever at- tend to its faithful direction ; and be led by its influences, into the haven, the de- sired haven of peace and salvation ! Let me once again survey those vast but noble deformities ; those rude but majestic elevations of stone. Fortifications, reared by an almighty hand, to protect us at once from warring elements, and invading ene- mies. Ramparts, which overlook and com mand the ocean ; which, viewed by distant mariners, seem to touch and prop the sky ; which have surrounded our isle ever since the universal deluge, and will be her never- failing defence even to the general confla- gration. If some opinionated engineer should take it into his head to suspect the stability of these unshaken and everlasting bulwarks ; if he should make proposals for strengthening them with buttresses, or gird- ing them round with cramping-irons, how would his project be received? with appro- bation and applause, or with contempt and indignation ? " Fool that he is, to think of enlarging, corroborating, or improving the • See Rom. ix. 30—32. and above, Letter V. finished and nnagtiificent works of nature, by the puny piddlings of art !" Such, so foolish and jireposterous, was my once fa- vourite conceit, of adding my own perform- ances, in order to increase the justifying ef- ficacy of Christ's obedience. What a dis- paragement was this to the great, the divine foundation ! which, for the support and se- curity of burdened and endangered sinners, is sufficient — is self-sufficient — is all-suffi- cient. How changeable is the face of this liquid element ! Not long ago, there was nothing, from this stony boundary to the horizon's utmost verge, but the wildest tumult and most horrible confusion. Now the stormy flood has smoothed its rugged brow, and the watery uproar is lulled into a profound trajiquillity. Where rolling moimtains rushed and raged, threatening to dash the clouds and deluge the earth ; there the gen- tlest undulations play, and only just wrinkle the surface of the mighty bason. Where the dreadful abyss opened its wide and un- fathomable jaws, to swallow up the tremb- ling sailor and his shattered vessel ; there a calm and clear expanse diffuses its ample bosom, alluring the fish to bask in the sun, and inviting the sea-fowl to watch for their prey. In this fair-floating mirror, I see the picture of every cloud which passes through the regions of the sky. But in its uncer- tain and treacherous temperature, I see more plainly the unconstant and ever- varia- ble condition of human affairs. I durst not be surety to the mariner for peacefid seas and soothing gales. I could not ascertain the continuance of this halcyon weather so much as a single day, or even to the next hour. And let me not fondly promise my- self an uninterrupted tenor of serenity in my mind, or of prosperity in my circum- stances. Sometimes, indeed, my heart ex- ults under the smile of heaven and the fa- vour of God : But soon, ah ! too soon, I am clouded with fear, and oppressed wth corruption. I sigh out that passionate ac- knowledgment, " Wretched man that I am!" and add that wishful inquiry, " Who shall deliver me ?" For this disordered state of things, the afflicted patriarch's complaint is the most apposite motto, and the most wholesome memento : " Changes and war are around me." Job x. 17. But there is a world, where disastrous revolutions will be known no more ; where our enjoyments Avill no longer fluctuate like the ocean, but be more steadfast than the rocks, and more immoveable than the shores. Here I see an immense collection of wa- ters in a state of deep repose. Could I ex- tend my view to some remoter tracts, I should behold every thing smoother and [Calmer still. Not a furrow sinks, nor a THERON AND A6PASI0. ridge swells the surface of the ocean : It is rII like a glassy plain. The waves are asleep ? Echo is hushed : Not a gale stirs : The sea stagnates ; the mariner is becalm- ed, and the vessel scarcely creeps. Where- as, could I survey the straits of Magellan, or the gut of' Gibraltar, I should find a very striking difference. There the waters press in with vehemence, and rush forwards with impetuosity. All is there in strong agita- tion and rapid progress. The ship is whirl- ed through the narrow passage, and rides, as it were, on the wheels of the surge, or on the >vings of the wind. This, my dear Aspasio, is a true image of what I have been, and of what I am. Some months ago, when I was insensible of guilt, all my prayers were listless, and all my religion was a spiritual lethargy. I felt not in my neart what I uttered with my tongue. Ho- sannahs were but an empty ceremony, and confessions froze on my formal lips. But since the Spirit of God has awakened me from my dream, and convinced me of my sinfulness, I can no longer be satisfied with indolent and yawning devotions. Trials and temptations put strong cries into my mouth. My soul mourns before the Lord ; my desires plead with the blessed God ; and I am ready to say, as the patriarch of old, " I cannot, I must not, I will not let thee go, unless thou bless me." Gen. xxxii. 26. I see no flocks of sheep, with sober assi- duity, nibbling the grassy plains. No spor- tive lambs, with innocent gaiety, frisking along the sunny banks. Here are no stables for the generous steed,' nor pastures for the lusty heifer. Nevertheless these watery re- gions are stocked with colonies of proper and peculiar inhabitants, who are clothed and accoutred in exact conformity to the clime ; not in swelling wool or buoyant fea- thers, not in a flowing robe or a full-trim- med suit, but with as much compactness, and with as little superfluity as possible. They are clad, or rather sheathed in scales ; which adhere closely to their bodies, and are always laid in a kind of natural oil ; than which apparel, nothing can be more light, and at the same time, nothing more ^olid. It hinders the fluid from penetrat- ing their flesh, it prevents the cold from coagulating their blood, and enables them to make their way through the waters with the utmost facility. They have each a curious instrument,* by which they increase ■ or diminish their specific gravity ; sink like lead, or float like a cork ; rise to what height, or descend to what depth they please. This is the abode of leviathan, hugest of' li\'ing creatures. Before whom the broad- limbed elephant and the tall-necked camel, » The air-bladdor. are mere shrimps ; a stretched out promon- tory when he sleeps ; a moving island when he swims ; " making the sea to boil like a pot," when, unwieldily wallowing, he takes his prodigious pastime. Here the voraci- ous sharks that tyrant of the fluid kingdoms, and assassin of the finny nations, roams and commits his ravages, imbrues his horrid fangs, and marks his rapid path with blood. Here dwelt that great, and greatly surpris- ing fish, whose fierceness and avidity the almighty Sovereign employed, as his pur- suivant, to arrest a fugitive prophet : whose ample jaws, or capacious entrails were the dungeon to confine a rebellious subject, and the cabin to lodge a penitent offender; whose bulk, and strength, and speed were a kind of vessel, transporting this convict to " the bottom of the mountains, and the bars of the earth." Jonah ii. 6. After the cri- minal was sufficiently chastised, and pro- perly humbled, they served as a galley with oars to convey him safe to land. In the same element resides (at least takes up part of his residence) that formid- able monster, who is made without fear, and " has not his like upon earth." He esteemeth the pointed iron as straw, and ponderous brass as rotten wood. His heart is as hard as a piece of the nether- millstone, and his scales are a coat of im- penetrable mail. Strength not to be re- sisted, much less to be subdued, lies en- trenched in his sinewy neck. His eyes are like the eyelids of the opening day ; and when he rolls those glaring orbs, there seems to be another mom risen on mid- noon. His teeth are terrible ; jagged for rapine and edged with death. His throat is as a burning furnace ; clouds of smoke are poured from his nostrils, and flakes of fire issue from his mouth. None, no not the most resolute, dares provoke him to the combat, or even stir him up from his slum- bers. He laugheth at the shaking of the spear, " and sorrow marcheth in triumph before him,"* Job. xli. 22. AVTienever he raiseth himself, the mighty are afraid ; wherever he advanceth, ruin is there. If a mere creature is capable of spreading such alarm and dread, how greatly is the Crea- • niX'n l£pn liabS- -• Mceror," says Rocliart, *' piEecedit tanquam metator et comes, tu- midique ante ambulo regis." Terror and anguish are a kind of advanced guard to this monarch among the reptiles ; or, they go before the monster, as the man bearing a shield went before the Philistine giant. — The original word occurs in no other part of the di- vine book. I camiot recollect any expression, which so fully represents its meaning, as Homer's Kodiouf, or Xenophon's yav^iaff^ai ; both which are intend- ed to describe the ardour and action of a high-mettled prancing steed. — The whole paragraph is a sketch of the crocodile^ picture. It exhibits a few circum- stances, culled from that inimitable description, ex- tant in the book of Job, which are given either in the sacred writer's own words, or else in a paraphras- tic explanation of their sense. LETTER IX. 383 Cor himself to be feared ! who can turn the most harmless inl)abitant of the ocean into a ravenous aUigator, or a horrid crocodile ! who can arm every reptile of the ground with all the force and rage of a lion ! It is impossible to enter on the muster- roll those scaly herds, and that minuter fry, which graze the sea-weed, or stray through the conJ groves. They are in- numerable as the sands which lie under them ; countless as the waves which cover them. Here are uncouth animals, of mon- strous shapes," and amazing qualities. -f- Some that have been discovered by the in- quisitive eye of man ; and many more, that remain among the secrets of the hoary deep. Here are shoals and shoals, of various cha- racters, and of the most diversified sizes ; from the cumbrous whale, whose flouncings tempest the ocean, to the evanescent an- chovy, whose substance dissolves in the smallest fricassee. Some, lodged in their pearly shells, and fattening on their rocky beds, seem attentive to no higher employ than that of imbibing moist nutriment. These, but a small remove from vegetable life, are almost rooted to the rocks on which they lie reposed ; while others, ac- tive as the winged creation, and swift as an arrow from the Indian bow, shoot along the yielding flood, and range at large the spacious regions of the deep. * Monstrous shapes. — Such as the sword-fish, whose upper jaw is lengthened into a strong and sharp sword, with which he sometimes ventures to attack ships, and is capable of piercing their sides, though ribbed with oak. This may be called the champion of the waters; who, though never exceeding sixteen feet in length, yet, confiding in a weapon at once so trusty and so tremendous, scruples not to give battle, even to the whale himself. The sun-fish has no tail, seems to be all head ; and was it not for two fins, which act the partiof oars, would be one entire round mass of flesh. The polypus, remarkable for its numerous feet, and as many claws, by which it has the appear- ance of a mere insect, and seems fitted only to crawl. At the same time an excrescence, arising on the back, enables it to steer and pursue a steady course in the waves; so that it may pass under the twofold cha- racter of a sailor and a reptile. t Amazing qualities. — Among these may be reck- oned the torpedo, which benumbs on a sudden, and renders impotent, whatever fish it assaults ; and, which is a more extraordinary property, strikes even the fisherman's arm, when he offers to lay hold on it, with a temporary deadness. By this means, it pos- sesses the double advantage of arresting its prey, and securing itself.— The cuttle fish, furnished with a li- quid magazine of a colour and consistence like ink, which, when pursued by an enemy, the creature emits and blackens the water. By this artifice, the foe is bewildered in tlie chase, and while the one vainly gropes in the dark, the other seizes the oppor- tunity, and makes his escape.— The nautilus, whose shell forms a natural boat. The dexterous inhabitant unfurls a membrane to the wind, which serves him instead of a sail. He extends also a couple of arms, with which, as with two slender oars, he rows himself along. When he is disposed to dive, he strikes sail, and, without any apprehension of being drowned, sicks to the lx)ttom. When the weather is calm, and he has an inclination to see the world, or take his pleasure, he mounts to the surface; and, self-taught in the art of navigation, performs his voyage without either chart or compass; is himself the vessel, the rigging, and the pilot.— For a more copious illustra- tion ot.this amusing and wonderful subject, see Na- ture Displayed, vol. iii. Here is the tortoise, who never nrovcs but under her own portable pent-house : The lobster, which, whether he sleeps or wakes, is still in a state of defence, and clad in jointed armour : The oyster, a sort of living jelly, engarrisoned in the bulwark of native stone ; with many other kind of sea- reptiles, or, as the Psalmist speaks, " things creeping innumerable," Psal. civ. 25. I am surprised at the variety of their figure, and charmed with the splendour of their colours. Unsearchable is the msdom, and endless the contrivance, of the all-creating God ! Some are rugged in their form, and little better than hideous in their aspect. Their shells seem to be the rude production of a disorderly jumble, rather than the re- gular effects of skill and design. Yet we shall find, even in these seeming irregulari- ties, the nicest dispositions. These abodes, uncouth as they may appear, are adapted to the genius of their respective tenants, and exactly suited to their particular exigences. Neither the Ionic delicacy, nor the Corinth- ian richness, nor any other order of archi- tecture, woidd have served their purposes half so well as this coarse and homely fa- bric. Some, on the other hand, are extremely neat. Their structiu-e is all symmetry and ele- gance. No enamel in the world is comparable to their polish. There is not a room of state, in all the palaces of Europe, so brilliantly adorned as the dining-room and the bed- chamber of the little fish that dwells in mother of pearl. Such a lovely mixture of red, blue, and green, so delightfull/staining the most clear and glittering ground, is'no- where else to be seen. The royal power may covet it, and human art may mimic it ; but neither the one nor the other, nor both united, will ever be able to equal it. But what I admire more than all their streaks, their spots, and their embroidery, is, the extraordinaiy provision made for their safety. Nothing is more relishing and palatable than their flesh ; nothing more heavy and sluggish than their motions. As they have no speed to escape, neither have they any dexterity to elude the foe. Were they naked or unguarded, they must be an easy i)rey to every freebooter that roams the ocean. To prevent this fatal consequence, what is only clothing to other animals, is to them a clothing, a house and a castle. They have a fortification, that grows with their growth, and is a part of themselves. By this means, they live secure amidst mil- lions and millions of ravenous jaws : by this means, they are embarked, as it were, in their own shell ; and, screened from eveiy other assault, are reserved for the use and plea- sure of mankind. This is the birth-place of cod, the stand- ing repast of Lent. This is the niursery of 384 THERON AND ASPASIO. turbot, for its exquisite"relish justly styled the pheasant of the tvaters. Hence comes the sturgeon, delicious even in pickle, and a regale for royal luxury; hence the flounders, dappled with reddish spots, and a supply for vulgar wants. Here dwell the mackerel, decked, when haled from their native ele- ment, richly decked with the most glossy dyes ; the herring, whose back is mottled with azure, and his belly sleek with silver ; the salmon, in plainer habit, but of larger substance, and higher esteem, than either or both the preceding. These, when shotten and lean, wander wildly up and down the vast abyss ; when plump and delicate, they throng oiu- creeks, and swarm in our bays —they repair to the shallows, or haunt the running streams. Who bids these creatures evacuate the shores, and disperse themselves into all quarters, when they become worth- less and unfit for our service ? Who rallies and recals the undisciplined vagrants, as soon as they are improved into desirable food ? Who appoints the very scene of our ambushes to be the place of their rendez- vous, so that they come like volunteers to our nets ? Surely the furlough is signed, the summons issued, and the point of re- union settled, by a Providence ever indul- gent to mankind, ever studious to treat us with dainties, and " load us with benefits," Psal. Ixviii. 19. We have wondered at* our Saviour's penetration and power : — his penetration, which, though the sea was at a distance, and walls intervened, discerned the fish that had just swallowed a piece of money ; — his power, which, without any delay, brought the lawless rambler, charged with the silver spoil, to Peter's hook. But is it not equally wonderful, to observe such innumerable multitudes of finny visitants annually ap- proaching our shores and crowding our banks ? which furnish our tables with a wholesome and delicate repast, at the same time that they yield to our nation a revenue-f- more certain, and no less considerable, than the mines of Peru ? These approach, while those of enormous size and tremendous appearance abandon the shores. The latter might endanger the fisherman's safety, and would certainly scare away the valuable fish from our coasts. They are therefore restrained by an invisi- ble hand, and abscond in the abysses of the ocean. Just as the wild beasts of the earth, impelled by the same overruling power, « See Letter VIII. ■t We are toUl by the after-mentioned author, that the banks of Newfounclland alone bring into the pro- prietors of that fishery a revenue of several millions every year. And they will, in all probability, bean unimpaired resource of treasure, when the richest mines now wrought in the world are clroaked up or ex- Iiausted. hide tl>emselvcs in the recesses of the forJ. est. A ship infected with a pestilential distemper is obliged to keep off at sea, and not permitted to enter the port till she has performed her quarantine. In like man- ner, these monsters of the deep, whose very business is destruction, are laid imder a providential interdict ; only with this very desirable difl!'erence, that as their presence would always be pernicious, they are never suffered to come near, their quarantine is perpetual. " Ask now the beasts, and they shall teach thee; and the fowls of the air, and they shall tell thee ; or speak to the earth, * and it shall teach thee ; and the fishes of the sea shall declare unto thee," Job. xii. 7, 8, that the Lord is gracious ; that his tender mer- cies are over all his works ; that to us he is superabimdantly and profusely good, hav- ing ordered all things in the surges of the ocean, as well as on the surface of the ground, for our rich accommodation, and for our greatest advantage. One circumstance relating to the natives of the deep is very peculiar, and no less as- tonishing. As they neither sow nor reap, have neither the produce of the hedges nor the gleanings of the field, they are obliged to plunder and devour one another for ne- cessary subsistence, They are a kind of authorized banditti, that make violence and murder their professed trade.-}- By this means prodigious devastations ensue ; and without proper, without very extraordin- ary recruits, the whole race must contin- ually dwindle, and at length be totally ex- tinct. Were they to bring forth, like the most prolific of our terrestrial animals, a dozen only, or a score at each birth, the in- crease would be unspeakably too small for the consumption ; the weaker species would be destroyed by the stronger; and, in time, the stronger must perish, even by their suc- cessful endeavours to maintain themselves. Therefore, to supply millions of assassins with their prey, and millions of tables with their food, yet not to depopulate the watery realms ; the issue produced by every breed- er is almost incredible. They spa^vai, not by scores or hundreds, but by thousands and by millions. J A single mother is pregnant • The earth is represented as bearing witness to the immense benignity of the blessed God. -Some minutes, or a short abstract of her testimony on this occasion, may be seen in Letter VI. t To this, I believe, the prophet alludes, in that remarkable expression. Thou makest men as the fishes of the sea. Thou suft'erest men to commit, with- out restraint or control, all manner of outrages. What should be a civil community, is a scene of oppression. The weakest are a prty to the strongest ; and every one seeks the destruction of his neighbour, Hab. i. <- % Mr. Petit found 342,144 eggs in the hard roe of a carp, sixteen inches long. Mr. Lowenhoeck counted in a cod of an ordinary size, !).,'Si4,00l) eggs. — A fecun- dity perfectly amazing ! but admirably adapted to the LETTER IX. 985 with a nation. By which amazing, but most needful expedient, a periodical repar- ation is made, proportionable to the im- mense havoc. As the sea is peopled with animated in- habitants, it is also variegated with vegeta- ble productions. Some solt as wool, others hard as stone. Some rise like a leafless shrub ; some are expanded in the form of a net, some grow with their heads downward, and seem rather hanging on, than springing from the juttings of the rocks. These may, with much greater propriety than the famous plantations of Semiramis, be called pensile gardens. But as my walk reached no farther than the purlieus of the ocean ; as neither you nor I have ever taken a single turn among those submarine groves; as Moses, Joshua, and Jonah, the only writers that ever made the wonderful tour, intent upon more important themes, have left us no me- moirs relating to this curious point ; I shall not venture to advance any thing particular on the subject. Only one remark I would offer in general : — The herbs and trees which flourish on the dry land, are maintained by the juices, that permeate the soil, and fluctuate in the air. For this purpose they are furnished with leaves to collect the one, and with roots to attract the other. Whereas, the sea-plants, finding sufticient nourishment in the circumambient waters, have no occasion to detach a party of roots into the ground, and forage the earth for sustenance. In- stead, therefore, of penetrating, they are but just tacked to the bottom ; andadhereto some solid substance, only with such a degree of tenacity as may secure them from being tossed to and fro by the random agitation of the waves. We see from this, and numberless other instances, what a diversity there is in the operations of the great Creator's hand. Yet every alteration is an improvement, and each new pattern has a peculiar fitness of its own. The same economy takes place, such a difltrence of administration, — I mean, in his government of the rational world. In " choosing an heritage for his people,'' and assigning a condition to each of his servants, there is a great variety with respect to indi- ^^duals, yet a perfect uniformity and com- plete harmony with respect to the whole. Some he calls out to a course of distinguish- ed labours : They make an illustrious figure in life, and appear " as a city set on an hill." Matth. v. 14. Others he consigns over to pressing exigencies of the watery world ; ailmirably contrived for the benefit and delight of mankind ! If we advert to this peculiaritv, it will give the utmost emphasis to the patriarch's metaphorical expression, and an inimitable beauty to his prophetic wish. Let these my grandsons grow into a multitude ; or, which is more exactly answerable to the original, " let them multiply abundantly, even like the fishes of the ocean," Gen. xlviii. 16. obscurity : They are like the prophets whom good Obadiah hid in a cave, and are styled "his secret ones." Psalm lxx.\iii. 3. Those, the cedars, which stand conspicuous on the top of Lebanon ; these, the violets which lie concealed at the foot of a brier. St. Paul was eminently qualified for busy scenes, and the most extensive services. He is introduced, therefore, into places of concourse. His ministry lies amidst the most renowned and populous cities. Even his imprisonment at Rome seems to have been a providential expedient for fixing him, as it were, on the stage of public observa- tion, and in the very centre of universal in- telligence ; where his preaching was like plunging a stone into the midst of a smooth canal, which affects not only the neighbour- ing parts of the surface, but spreads the floating circles over all the wide expanse. Whereas, the beloved John, being less fitted to bustle among a crowd, is sent into the unfrequented solitary island, there to in- dulge the flights of heavenly contemplation, and receive, with uninterrupted attention, the mysterious visions of God Job shall have thorns in his path ; have the dunghill for his seat ; and be exposed, as a mark, to all the arrows of tribulation. Solomon shall dip his foot in oil ; shall be elevated on the throne of royalty, and surrounded with the most lavish caresses of heaven. In all this seeming, this more than seeming contrariety, there is a display, not only of sovereign authority, but of consummate propriety. The great head of the church acts like a judicious general, and appoints such a station to each of his soldiers as cor- responds with the ability he gives. He acts like the most skilful physician, and prescribes such a remedy for all his pa- tients, as is most nicely suited to their respective cases. He knows the precise point of time, the particular place of abode, the peculiar circumstances of condition, which are most })roper for each and every of his children ; and, like a tender as well as unerring father, what he knows to be best, that he constantly allots. I said, like a general, like a physician, like a father. But the comparison is low ; the language is inexpressive. Christ is all that is im- plied in these relations, and unspeakably more. O that we may rejoice in the super- intendency of such a Saviour ! and not only resign ourselves to his will, but thank him for managing the helm ; thank him for steering our course, through the changes of time and the uncertainties of futurity ; since, whatever our forward and petulant passions may suggest, the Lord's ways are so far from being unequal, that they have all the possible fitness and propriety — they are or- dered " in number, weight, and measure." All this is so Aery different from the 2c 386 TIIERON AND ASPASIO. prospects which lately presented themselves, that 1 can hardly forbear asking, Whether I am not translated into a new world ? Where are the waving hillocks, covered with the Creator's bounty? where are the fruitful valleys, made vocal with his praise ? No cultured field, no opening blossom, not so much as a green leaf appears. None of my late entertainments remain, but only the cooling zephjTs ; which are no longer per- fumed with the breath of flowers, but im- pregnated with the freshness of the ocean. "Set though all those lovely landscapes are withdrawn — though the gurgling fountain is silenced, and the blooming garden lost — I am not far from the origin, both of the odours which exhale from the one, and of the crystal which flows from the other. I am now upon the margin of that grand re- servoir which supplies the country with its fertility, and the parterre with its beauty. The sea is the inexhaustible cistern of the universe : The air and sun constitute the mighty engine, which works without inter- mission to raise the liquid treasure ; while the clouds serve as so many aqueducts, to convey the genial stores along the atmos- phere, and distribute them at seasonable periods, and in regular proportions, through all the regions of the globe. I question whether the united application of mankind could, with their utmost skill, and wdth all possible percolations, fetch a single drop of perfectly sweet water* from this unmeasurable pit of brine. Yet the action of the solar heat draws oflf, eveiy hour, every minute, millions and millions of tons, in vaporous exhalations,which being skilfully parcelled out, and securely lodged in " the bottles of heaven,"-!" are sent abroad, sweet- ened and refined, without any brackish tinc- ture, or the least bituminous sediment, sent abroad upon the wings of the wind, to dis- til in dews, or pour themselves in rain, to ooze from the orifices of fountains ; to trickle along the veins of rivulets ; to rise in the cavities of wells ; to roll in many a headlong torrent, from the sides of moun- tains ; to flow in copious streams, amidst the bosom of burning deserts, and through the heart of populous kingdoms, in order to » I have not forgotten what was lately affirmed in our public papers, that a certain ingenious gentleman, I think, in the city of Durham, had found out the art of sweetening sea-water. — What he produced might probably approve itself to the taste, and not be with- out its usefulness. "V'et I cannot but query, whether it will be found to have all those fine, balmy, salutifer- ous qualities, which distinguish and recommend the rain-water, which has been exhaled by the kindly warmth of the sun; has been filtrated by passing and repassing through the regions of the air ; has been clarified in the highest and purest tracts of the atmos- phere— has been further refined and perfected by the searching agency of the winds. I should very much wonder, if the puny alembic could equal this grand apparatus of nature. T So the clouds are eleg.'^ntly styled in sacred writ. Job XXXV iii. 37 refresh and fertilize, to beautify and enrich, every soil, in every clime. How amiable is the goodness, and how amazing is the power of the world's ador- able Maker ! How amiable his goodness, in distributing so largely what is so absolutely necessary, and so extensively beneficial ! That water, without which we can scarce perform any business, or enjoy any comfort, should be every one's property ; should spring up from the soil ; should drop down from the clouds ; should stream by our houses ; should take a journey from the ends of the earth, and the extremities of the ocean, on purpose to serve us. How amazing his power ! that this boundless mass of fluid salt, so intolerably nauseous to the hiunan taste, should be the original spring which deals out every palatable draught to man- kind, and quenches the thirst of every ani- mal ! Doubtless the power by which this is efl"ected can extract comfort from our afflic- tions, advantage from our calumities, and " make all things work together for our good." Rom. viii. 28. ^^ast and various are the advantages* which we receive from the liquid element ; vast, as its unbounded extent ; various, as its ever-mutable surface. The sweet waters glide along the earth in spacious currents, which not only exhilarate the adjacent coun- try by their humid train and exhaling mois- ture, but, by giving a brisk impulse to the air, prevent the imwholesome stagnation of their own vapours. They pass by opulent cities, and, receiving all their filth, rid them of a thousand nuisances, which, when once committed to these fluid scavengers, are as efltctually secreted as if they were buried ever so deep in the earth. Yet, though they condescend to so mean an employ, they are fitted for more honourable services. They enter the gardens of a prince, and compose some of the most delightful ornaments of the place. They glitter upon the eye, as they float in the ample canal. They amuse the imagination as they ascend in curious jets d'eau. They yield a nobler entertain- ment, as, forming themselves into sheets of sloping silver, theyfall in graceful or in grand cascades. If, instead of beautifiers, we think proper to make use of them as drudges, they ply at our mills ; they toil incessantly at the wheel, and, by working the hugest engines, take upon themselves an unknown share of our fatigue, and save us a proportionable de- gree of expense. So forcibly they act when collected, and most surprisingly they insinuate when tie- * The high value which mankind set upon this ele- ment, and the many benefits they receive from its ministration, both these particulars are very sironfjiy expressed by the Hebrews, who call apool or reservoir of water, in its primary signification, a blessing. Cant, vii. 4. Isa. vii. 3. LETTER IX. 887 tached. They throw themselves into ttie I very doors of tlie owner, and without any body of a plant, they penetrate the minutest hazard of striking on the rocks or being fas of its organized tubes, and find a passage through meanders, too small for the eye to discern, too numerous and intricate even for imagination to follow. How difficultly does a labourer that serves the mason push his way up the rounds of a ladder, bending un- der the burden of mortar on his head ! while these servants in ttie employ of nature carry their load to a much greater height, and climb with the utmost ease, even with- out the assistance of steps or stairs. They convey the nutrimental stores of vegetation, from the lowest fibres that are plunged into the soil, to the very topmost twigs that wave amidst the clouds. They are the ca- terers for the vegetable world, or (if I may be allowed the expression) the suttlers which attend the whole host of plants, to furnish them with seasonable refreshment and necessary provision. By means of which " the trees of the Lord are full of sap, even the cedars of Lebanon which he hath planted." Psalm civ. 16. And not- withstanding their vast elevation and pro- digious dififusion — though they are abandon- ed by man, and deprived of all cultivation — yet not a single branch is destitute of leaves, nor a single leaf of moisture. Besides the salutary, cleanly, and service- able circulation of the rivers, the sea has a libration no less advantageous, and much more remarkable. Every day this immense collection of waters, for the space of five or six hours, flows towards the land, and after a short pause, retires again to its inmost ca- verns, taking up nearly the same time in its retreat, as it required for its access. How great is the power which sets the whole fluid world in motion ! which protrudes to the shores such an inconceivable weight of waters, without any concurrence from the winds, frequently in direct opposition to all their force ! How gracious also is the Pro- vidence which bids the mighty element iier- form its tumbling revolutions with the (nost e.xact punctuality ! Was it suffered to ad- vance with a lav^less and unlimited swell, it might sweep over kingdoms, and deluge whole continents. Was it irregular and uncertain in its approaches, navigation would be at a stand, and trade become precarious. But, being constant at its stated periods, and never exceeding its appointed bounds, it creates no alarm to the country, and af- fords very considerable aids to traffic. The tide, at its flow, rushing up our large rivers, clears and deepens the passage, in many places spreads a copious flood, where a dry and empty waste lay before- Is the sailor returned from his voyage, and tened in the sands. Has the merchant freighted his ship ? would he have it trans- ferred to the ocean ? The reflux tenders its service, and bears away the load, with the utmost expedition, and with equal safety. Behold, O man ! how greatly thou art be- loved, how highly favoured by thy Maker ! In what part of his works has he forgotten or overlooked thy welfare ? Show me a crea- ture, point out a spot, in the formation or disposition of which he has not been mind- ful of thy interests ? " He has made thee to have dominion over the works of his hands and has put all things in subjection under thy feet. All sheep and oxen, the fowls of the air, and the fishes ;" yea and the surges '* of the sea," Psalm viii. 6 — 8, are subservient to thy benefit. Even these, wild and impetuous as they are, yield their willing backs to receive thy load and, like an indefatigable beast of burden, carry it to the place which thou shalt nominate. What preserves this vast flood in a state of perpetual purity? It is the universal sewers, into which are discharged, the refuse and filth of the whole world. That which would defile the land, and pollute the air, is transmitted to the ocean, and neither mischief nor inconvenience ensue. Those swarms of locusts, which, while living, were a plague to Pharaoh, by their loathed intru- sion, and, when dead, might have caused a more dreadful plague, by their noisome stench, swept into the sea, were neither pestilential nor offiensive. How then is this receptacle of every nuisance keptclean? Why does it not contract a noxious taint, and dif- fuse a destructive contagion ? such as would render it a grave to the aquatic, and bane to the terrestrial animals ? It is owing partly to its incessant motion, partly to its saline quality. By the one, it is secured from any internal principle of corruption ; by the other, it works itself clear from every adven- titious defilement. A directory this, and a pattern for me I Thus may divine grace, like the penetrat- ing power of salt, cure the depravity of my heart, and rectify the disorders of my tem- per ! season my \\ords, and make all my conversation savoury ! Thus may a con- tinual course of activity, in my secular and my sacred vocation, prevent the pernicious effects of indolence ! Let me daily exer- cise, or be attempting to exercise, the graces of Christianity, lest faith become feeble, lest hope contract dimness, and charity wax cold. Now the tide begins to flow. Wave rises upon wave, and billow rolls over bil- waiting at the mouth of the channel? The low. Nothing can divert, nothing retard flux is ready to convey his vessel to the jits progress, no, not for a moment. Though 388 THERON AND ASPASIO. Canutiis be in the way,* though his royal authority and strict prohibition, nay, though all the forces of his kingdom oppose, it will never discontinue the advancing swell, till it has reached the destined point. So may I always abound in communion with God, or in beneficence to men, resigning one re- ligious or charitable employ only to enter upon another, and be thus pressing forward, still pressing forward, to the prize of my high calling in Christ Jesus ; differing from these regular vicissitudes of the ocean only in one particular, that my endeavours never ebb, my soul never draws back : since this would be, if temporary, to my grievous loss; if final, to my aggravated perdition. Consider the sea in another capacity, and it connects the remotest realms of the uni- verse, by facilitating an intercourse between the respective inhabitants. What short- sighted beings are mankind ! how extremely superficial their views ! how unavoidable, therefore, their frequent mistakes ! The ancients looked upon this bottomless deep, as an impassable gulf. If our forefathers were so egregiously mistaken in this in- stance, let us not too peremptorily pro- nounce upon any difficult or mysterious point, lest succeeding generations, or a more enlightened state, should cover us with the double confusion of childish ignorance and foolish conceit. We have clearly demonstrated, and hap. pily experienced, the very reverse of that grey-headed surmise to be true. The ocean, instead of being a bar of separation, is the great bond of union. For this pur- pose, it is never exhausted, though it sup- plies the whole firmament with clouds, and the whole earth with rains ; nor ever over- flows, though all the rivers in the universe are perpetually augmenting its stores, and pouring in their tributary floods. By * Alluding to a memorable and instructive storv re- corded of king Canutus, who, probably without hav- ing read, had nevertheless thoroughly learned, that excellent lesson of Horace : Regum timendorum in proprios greges, Reges in ipsos iniperium est Jovis. Some of his abject and designing flatterers had the impious assurance to tell him, " his power was more than human." To convince them of their folly, and rebuke them for their falsehood, he ordered his chair of state to be placed on the extremity of the shore, just as the tide began to flow. Here he took his seat in the presence of the parasites, and many other at- tendants. Then, with all that dignity of air, and severity of accent, which sovereign authority knows how to assume, he said, " Thou sea, the land on which I sit is mine : nor has any one dared to invade my rights, or disobey my commands, without suffer- ing the deserved punishment. I charge thee, there- fore, on pain of my highest displeasure, not to enter these territories, nor to\ich the feet of England's monarch." When the rude waves made bold to en- ter on the forbidden ground ; nay, when those un- courtly things presumed to rush upon the royal seat, and even to dash his Majesty's person, he started from his throne, and bid every beholder observe the impotence of earthly kings; bid them remember, that He alone is worthy of the name, whom winds, and waves, and universal nature obey. means of this element we travel farther than birds of the strongest pinion fly, and discover tracts which the " vulture's eye has never seen," Job xxviii. 7. We make a visit to nations that lie drowned in their midnight slumbers, when every industrious person on this part of the globe is bestir- ring himself in all the hurry of business. We cultivate an acquaintance with the sun-burnt negro and the shivering Icelander. We cross the flaming line, we penetrate the frozen pole, and wing our way even round the world. This is the great vehicle of commerce — . Not to mention the floating castles, which contain whole armies, which bear the thun- der, the fiery tempests, and all the dreadful artillery.of war ; what a midtitude of ships, of the largest dimensions and most prodigi- ous burden, are continually passing and re- passing this universal thoroughfare ! ships that are freighted, not with sacks, but with harvests of corn ; that carry not pipes, but vintages of wine ; that are laden, not with bars of iron, blocks of marble, or wedges of gold, but with whole quarries of massy stone, and whole mines of ponderous metal ! All which, lodged in these volatile storehouses, and actuated by the breath of heaven, are wafted to the very ends of the earth; waft- ed, enormous and unwieldy as they are, more expeditiously than the light Berlin bowls along the road ; almost as speedily as the nimble-footed roe bounds over the hills." Astonishing ordination of eternal wisdom! yet most graciously contrived for the bene- fit of mankind ! — I can hardly satisfy my view in beholding this rolling chaos ; I can never cease my admiration, in contemplat- ing its amazing properties. — That an ele- ment, so unstable and fugitive, shoidd bear up such an immense weight, as woidd bend the firmest floors, or burst the strongest beams ! That the thin and yielding air should drive on, with so much facility and speed, bodies of such excessive bulk as the strength of a legion would be unable to move ! That the air and the water, acting in conjunction, shoidd carry to the distance of many thousand miles, what the united force of men and machines could scarcely drag a single yard ! — Pimy and despicable are our attempts ; but great and marvellous are thy works, O Ivord God Almighty ! " If thou wilt work," says the prophet, who or what " shall let it?" Isa. xliii. IS. Neither the meanness of the instrument, nor the greatness of the event. A sling and a stone shall lay the gigantic bravo in the dust, I Sam. xvii. 50. An ox-goad shall do more * A ship, undera brisk and steady gale, will sail at the rate of 216 miles in 24 hours; persevering, if the wind continues favourable, in the same rapid career for several days together : A course.which, consider- ing both its swiftness and duration, cannot be equal- led by the ablest horse, perhaps not by the nimblest creature that treads the ground. LETTER IX. 889 execution than iibattery of cannon, Judg. iii. 31. Even " a worm shall thresh the moun- tains and beat them small, and make the hills as chaff," Isa. xli. 14, 13. God All- Sufficient is his name, and out of weak ness he maketh his strength perfect. O that we, my dear Aspasio, that 1 especially, may be strong in the Lord, and in the power of his might ! Then, as the light air is made to act with a more forcible impulse than the most \igorous engines ; as the fluid wa- ter is made to sustain more ponderous loads than the most substantial works of masonry ; so we, who in ourselves are nothing but impotence, shall be enabled to triumph over the legions of hell, and tread down all the temptations of the world. How are the mariners conducted through this fluid common, than which nothing is more wide, and nothing more wild ? Here is no tract to be -followed, no posts of di- rection to be consulted, nor any shepherd's hut where the wandering traveller may ask his way. — Are they guided by a pillar of tire in the night, or a moveable cloud in the day, as the sons of Jacob and Joseph were es- corted through the eastern deserts ? — No, but by a mean, contemptible, and otherwise worthless fossil. — The apostle James men- tions it as a very observable fact, that the " ships, which are so great, and driven of fierce winds, yet are turned about with a veiy small helm whithersoever the gover- nor listeth, Jam. iii. 4. Is it not equally wonderful, that they should be led through such a pathless and unmeasurable waste by so small an expedient as the intervention of the loadstone ?* Till this surprising mi- neral was discovered, and its properties were improved, navigation lay in its cradle ; was at best a mere infant that crept timor- ously along the coasts ; was obliged to keep within sight of the shores, and, if dj'iven out beyond the narrow sphere of her land- marks, could neither ascertain her situation nor pursue her voyage. But this guide, when every beacon on the top of the hills is va- nished from the acutest ken ; where no- thing but skies are seen above, and seas alone appear below — ^^this guide points out the proper passage. This communicates an intelligence which shines clear in the thickest darkness, and remains steady in the mosttem- pestuous agitations. This has 'given, not in- deed birth, but maturity to navigation, and turned her swaddling-bands into wings. This has emboldened her to launch into the heart of the ocean, and enabled her to range from pole to pole. * I am aware that other expedients are used for shaping a proper course on the ocean, such as making observations from the sun by mathematical instru- ments. But these, I believe, are only subordinate aids to the needle. The grand regulator is the magnet. I have heard an experienced sailor declare, he would rather be without his quadrant, than without his com- pass. Thus does God, both in the operations of nature and the administrations of provi- dence, accomplish the most important ends by the most inconsiderable means. When the formidable iSisera is to be cut off, the blow shall be given, not by some puissant champion, but by the hand of a woman, Judg. iv. 9. When Jericho is to be demo- lished, those impregnable fortifications shall fall, not beneath the stroke of battering en- gines, but before the sound of rams' horns. Josh. vi. 3. When a hundred thousand Midianites are to be routed, the Lord of Hosts will gain this signal victoiy, not by numerous legions completely armed, but by • a handful of Israelites, accoutred only with trumpets, lamps, and pitchers, Judges vii. 19. Who would have thought, that from the root of Jesse, a root out of a dry ground, should arise that great tree, which " stretches her boughs unto the sea, and herheight unto the heavens, and her branches unto the ends of the earth ?" That the despised Galilean and the carpenter's son should be the Saviour of the world, and the Heir of all things ? Nay, that a person humbled like the meanest of slaves, and ex- ecuted like the vilest of malefactors ; nail- ed to a cross, and laid prostrate among the dead ; that he should restore life and im- mortality to ruined sinners ; should open the gates of grace and glory on lost man- kind? That a few illiterate creatures, ta- ken from the barge, the oar, and the net, should confute philosophers, and convert kings ; should overthrow the strong-holds ot idolatry, and plant Christianity on its ruins ! This is a circumstance which, though a stumbling-block to some people, has consi- derably strengthened my faith. It is per- fectly agreeable to the Almighty's manner. It is (if I may so speak) the distinguishing turn of his hand, and the peculiar style of his works. Whence does he raise the charmingly-beauteous flowers ? whence the magnificent myriads of forest-oaks ? whence the boundless and inestimable stores of har- vest ? From principles which bear not the least proportion to their effects — Besides, this most emphatically speaks the God. It " shows the lighting down ot his arm," Isa. XXX. 30, and absolutely precludes all the pretensions of human arrogance, or fin- ite power. It ap])ropriates the honour to that supreme agent, before whom the easy and the arduous are both alike. All men that see it must confess, This hath God done. Through this channel, are imported to our island the choice productions, and the l)eculiar treasures, of every nation under heaven. So that we can breakfast upon a dissolution of the American kernel,* and I * Called the cocoa, which aETords the principal in- 390 THERON AND ASPASIO. see the rich nutrimental liquor froth in our cups, without ever tempting the foaming brine. We can steep the delicately-flavour- ed Chinese leaf in the waters of our own well ; or spend the afternoon in our own parlour, and be regaled with an infusion of the finely-scented Arabian berry. We can season the friendly bowl with the juices of the orange, or refresh our clammy palate with the pulp of the tamarind, without feel- ing that fervent heat which imparts such a poignant relish to the former, without suf- fering those scorching beams which give a fever-cooling \'irtue to the latter. We can pile upon our salvers a pyramid of Italian figs ; fill the interstices with the sky-dried raisins of Malaga ; and form a summit for the inviting structure with the pistacia nut of Aleppo. By this means, the eastern spices exhale their odours on our table, and the western canes transfuse their sweetness into our viands. We clothe our bodies with the vegetable fleecee of the south,* and line our apparel with warm furry spoils from the north. We can \vear the pearl, jsolisli- ed in the abysses of the Persian gulf; and walk on the carpets manufactured in the do- minions of the Great Mogul ; yet neither expose ourselves to the rage of boisterous seas, nor the more dreaded treachery of a barbarous people. In short, by this grand and beneticial expedient of navigation, every tide conveys into our ports the wealth of the remotest climes, and brings the abundance of the universe to be unladen on our quays ; London becomes a mart of nations ; and almost every private house in the kingdom is embellished or accommodated from the four quarters of the globe. Almost eveiy private house — Is not this more like rhetorical flourish, than real truth ? Aie not all the advantages I have mention- ed the peculiar portion of the rich ? Is not the sea, like high life and the gay world, somewhat capricious and partial ? bestow- ing lavishly her favours on the wealthy, at the same time that she neglects the needy ? Quite the reverse. Like her most exalted yet most condescending Creator, she is no respecter of persons. She deals out her liberalities to all ; to the wealthy, such as are suitable to their circumstances ; to the indigent, such as are best adapted to their condition. If she ornaments the bodies of the first, she employs the hands of the last ; furnishes these with useful labour, those with elegant accommodations. What a multitude of industrious people acquire a gredient of chocolate, and grows on a small tree in America. * Cotton, which is a sort of wool encompassing the seed of a tree. Its fruit is of an oval form, about the size of a nut. As it ripens, it grows black on the out- side; and, bv the heat of the sun, opens in several places, discovering the cotton through the clefts, which is of an admirable whiteness. See Chainb. Diet. livelihood by preparing the commodities in- tended for exportation ! and what a multi- tude of dexterous artificers maintain their families by manufacturing the wares im- ported from abroad ! It is reckoned a valuable species of bene- ficence to provide proper work for the poor. This withdraws them from many tempta- tions, and preserves them from much wick- edness. It hinders them from being a bur- den to themselves, and a nuisance to the public. They might otherwise be idle, and as vermin on the body politic ; or even mu- tinous, and as vipers in the bowels of the nation : whereas, by exerting themselves in a due subordination, and with becoming diligence, they are the very sinews of the community ; or like the grand wheel in the machine of state, whose incessant activity distributes plenty, and pours iniiumemble conveniences through the whole. What a master then, or rather what a mistress, is the sea ! how extensive her correspondence, and how large her demand for workmen ! Into what branch of trade does she not en- ter? What kind of ingenious science, or useful toil, does she not befriend ? How many millions of honest but needy persons are engaged in her service ? and how amply are they repaid for their pains ? " They that go down to the sea in ships, and occu- py their business in great waters, these men see the works of the Lord, and his wonders in the deep." They also that dwell among their own people, and abide in the villages, even they enjoy the bounty, and share the advantages of the ocean. For, though it is false philosophy to suppose the waters them- selves strained through subterranean pas- sages into the inland countries ; yet it is an undeniable truth, that their beneficial effects are transfused into every town, every hamlet, and every cottage. Surely the inhabitants of our isle have reason to turn the prediction of Moses, con- cerning the tribe of Joseph, into a devout and grateful acknowledgment : — " Blessed of the Lord is* our land. Blessed with the precious things of heaven, with the dew, and with the deep that coucheth beneath. With the precious things brought forth by the sun, and with the precious things thrust forth by the moon. With the chief things of the ancient mountains, and with the precious things of the everlasting hills, and with the precious things of the earth, and the fulness thereof"! Deut. xxxiii. 13 — 16. May we » Is, (so I would translate the original,) not be; in the predictive, not precatory form. This implies a fulness of faith, and distinguishes prophecy from prayer; best suits the extraordinary illumination of Moses ; and does most honour to the omniscient Spi- rit. t Here seems to be an exact summary, and a poeti- cal description of the riches of nature. The precious things of heaven ; or rain, which descends from the iijiper ; and dew, which is formed in the lower le- LETTER JX. 891 also enjoy " the good will of him who dwelt in the bush," Deut. xxxiii. 16, and the grace of him who hung on the tree ! May the eternal God be our refuge, and his ever- lasting arms underneath both us and our interests ! happy then wilt thou be, thrice happy, O England ! Thy temporal advan- tages, and thy spiritual privileges considered, it may be truly said. " Who," or what na- tion, " is like unto thee?" This for my country ; now let me wish for myself: God of all worlds ! source and supreme of things ! From whom all life, from whom duration springs! Intense, O ! let me for thy glory burn, Nor fruitless view my days and months return. Give me with wonder at thy works to glow. To grasp thy vision, and thy truths to know O'er time's tempestuous sea to reach thy shore. And live, and sing, where time shall be no more. You see, Aspiisio, I have been studying the volume of nature ; endeavouring to read its capital characters, and learn some of its instructive lessons. The sea has been the page ; but how superficial is my perusal, and no less scanty my knowledge. Little, very little have I seen or conceived, relating to those works of wonder which the vast un- fathomable deep contains ; the plants it produces, and the creatures it nourishes ; its stupendous rocks and subterranean caves ; the heaps of pearl, which are its native growth ; and the loads of gold, u hich it has gained by shipwreck. So superficial are my views of Christ ; so scanty is my acquaintance with the gospel- You, I presume, are sitting at the feet of that sublime Teacher, and attending to the dictates of his mouth, in " whom are hid all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge," Col. ii. 3. Let me pronn'se myself a com- munication of your thoughts, as I have free- ly transmitted a specimen of mine. And I will make no scruple to acknowledge the superiority of the exchange that I receive. XjUff'ja ^aXK'.iUv, inccTof^Soi fwiafioiuv. gions of the firmament. The deep that coucheth be- neath ; seas, rivers, foimtains, wells, which lie in the bosom of the soil; and are sources of fertility and plenty. The precious things brought forth by the sun, must certainly denote the herbs, plants,, trees, and all manner of vegetables, with their respective fruits. The precious things thrust forth by the moon, may probably refer to the mineral kingdoms; in the formation of which that ruler of the nightmay have a considerable influence. The moon,is confess- edly the parent of tides: and may put in motion those bituminous and saline fluids, which, circulating through the pores of the earth, and fixing in beds of homogeneous matter, are supposed to commence mi- nerals. As our sacred philosopher has already specifi- ed the vegetable tribes, and (if I mistake not)' the beds of fossils ; the principal things of the mountains and hills, should signify the sheep, goats, and other valu- .able animals, which feed upon those vast declivities. Then the precious things of the earth may express those herds of larger cattle, which have their p.isLur- age in the plains, vallevs, and lower grounds. A sense, which recommends itself from this considera- tion, that the wealth of the ancients consisted chiefl.y ni cattle. The fulness thereof may be a kind of re- capitulation : a comprehensive term, including the whole produce of the terraqueous globe ; the nia^ni- Ucent hberahty of Jehovah to his people. Or, as the eloauent Isaiah speaks : " For brass you will bring gold, and for iron you will bring silver, Isa. Ix. 17. rendering me, by this intercoiu'se, you more obliged, though it is scarce possible for me to be more than I already am. Your affectionate THERON. P. S. M. Paschal, who was remarkably fond of brevity, makes an odd excuse for transgressing, on a particular occasion, his favourite rule. He entreats his friend to pardon the unusual length of his epistle, by assuring him, " that he had not time to make it shorter." I cannot, it must be con- fessed, adopt this philosopher's apology. For I have purposely lengthened my letter, with a view of setting, in this one circum- stance, a pattern for my Aspasio. LETTER X. Aspasio to Theron. Dear Theron, — T thank you for your letter, because it entertains and improves me : I thank you for your postscript, because it is my encouragement and apology. I am set down to write, with a copious stock of materials. It will be far more difficult to contract, than to enlarge. I must there- fore acknowledge myself obliged to your candour for assigning me the easier task. That prolixity which, in others might be ungenteel and faulty, is in me an act of complaisance, and matter of duty. Though absent from you, I went with you in your late ramble. Your descriptive pen has made me partaker of the ideal delight ; may divine grace enable me to share in the spiritual improvement ! When you display- ed the beauties of the morn, breaking forth from the obscurity of night; when you adopt- ed that noble aspiration from our philosophic poet, I could not forbearadding: "Thus may the gracious God, who commands thelight to shine out of the midnight darkness, shine into our hearts ; and give that incomparably glo- rious knowledge, the knowledge of his blessed Self! which, though discernible through all the tracts of creation, and derivable from every work of his almighty hand, yet no- where beams forth with such complete and such amiable lustre as in the person of Jesus Christ." 2 Cor. iv. 6. Here we behold all the sublime perfections of the Deity, not only manifested vvith inimitable splendour, but operating for our own advantage. We behold them, as Job speaks, "for ourselves,'' Job xix. 27 ; and cannot but receive inex- pressible refreshment and joy from the view. When you walked beneath the shade of S92 THERON AND ASPASIO. those huge, horrid, and enormous cliffs, both amused and alarmed at their stupendous magnitude and frightful irregularity ; when you cast your eye upon the wide expanded surface of the ocean ; when you surveyed the far more unmeasurable arches of the sky, and meditated, in that awful solitude, on the wildest and most magnificent appearances of nature — 1 felt the same kind of devout aston- ishment with yourself. While the soul was wrapt in " pensive stillness and pleasing dread, methought I heard a voice, or something like a voice, from the silent spheres, as well as from the sounding seas. It seemed to echo back, what the mighty angel whom John saw fly- ing in the midst of heaven once proclaim- ed, " Worship him who made heaven and earth, and the sea, and the fountains of wa- ter," Rev. xiv. 7. " Worship him, who stretched out that azure pavilion with such amazing grandeur ;• who measured yonder world of waters in the hollow of his hand ; and before whom this immense range of mountainous cliffs is but as dust upon the scale." When you described the dismal situation of a wretch exposed on the edges of the tremendous precipice ; hanging over the ragged rocks and the unfathomable gulf, and cleaving only to a slender treacherous breaking bough ; how heartily did I join in youradoring acknowledgments to that kind, interposing, blessed hand, which rescued us both from an infinitely more threatening and dreadful danger ! rescued us as slaves from the dominion of the devil ; snatched us as brands from the inextinguishable burnings ; and bid us (O marvellous superabundant goodness !) bid us possess the liberty of righteousness, bid us inherit the kingdom of heaven. When you mention the past indolence, and the present fervour of your prayers, I could not forbear reiterating my praises to God on your behalf. This is a proof, my dear Theron, that you are going in the \>ay everlasting ; for it is written, " They shall come with weeping, and with suppli- cations will 1 lead them." Jer. xxxi. 9 — This is the work of the Holy Ghost, dwell- ing in your heart ; for what saith the Scrip- ture 'i " 1 will pour upon them the spirit of grace and of supplication." Zech. xii. 10. And our Lord himself mentions this as the indication of a true conversion : " Behold he prayeth." Acts ix. 11. Had not Saul prayed before ? Yes ; and made long pray- ers too. But he never, till thut in:-tant, was sensible of his undone and damnable condition ; never cried to God IVom th depths of his distress, or from the depths of his heart ; not ever solicited the throne of grace, in the all-prevailing name of Jesus Christ. His prayers, till then, were some- what like the motes, which fluctuate to and fro in the air, without any vigorous impulse, or any certain aim ; but, in that hour, they were like the arrow, which springs from the strained bow, and, quick as lightning, flies to the mark. I was pleased to find you, in the process of your letter, insensibly forgetting the nar- rative, and so engaged by the subject, that you spoke not as the relator, but as the be- holder. Thus may we always be affected, when we study the oracles of truth — study them, not as cold unconcerned critics, who are only to judge of their meaning, but as persons deeply interested in all they contain j who are particularly addressed in every ex- hortation, and directed by every precept ; whose are the promises, and to whom be- long the precious privileges. When we are enabled thus to realize and appropriate the contents of that invaluable book, then we shall taste the sweetness, and feel the pow- er of the Scriptures. Then we shall know, by happy experience, that our divine Mas- ter's words are not barely sounds and syl- lables, but " they are spirit, and they are life." John vi. 63. I was still more agreeably entertained with your picture of commerce, and of the advantages we receive from navigation. One ad\'antage, however, I can specify, which is greater than any, greater than all you have celebrated ; an advantage, which will en- dear and ennoble navigation, so long as the sun and moon endure. The gospel, my dear friend, the glorious gospel came to our island through this channel. The volume that comprises it, and the preacher that pub- lished it, both were imported by shipping. And may we not say with the enraptured Isaiah, " How beautiful are the feet of them that bring good tidings ; that publish peace ; that bring good tidings of good ; that publish salvation ; that say unto Zion, thy God reign- eth ?* Isa. lii. 7. It is pleasant to hear their voice, pleasant to contemplate their message, and pleasant even to behold the ground on which they trod, or the very waves over which ihey sailed. This made the holy prophet rejoice in spirit, \\hen he foresaw * Never did language bespeak an enraptured soul more significantly than this sacred exclamation. The prophet is all wonder and all joy. lie is so enamour- ed with his subject, and so captivated with the glory of the gospel, that he can never say enough of its ex- cellencies. Good tidings; the very best that earth could receive, or heaven proclaim. Good tidings of good ; a most comprehensive good ; a collection of every blsssing; or all good thir.gs in one. Publish peace; peace with Goii, the everlasting King; and that sweet peace of conscience which the world can- not give. Publish salvation ; or that gift of righte- ousness which is the meritorious caus?, together with thespiritof liberty and spirit of adoption, which are the rich and grand constituents of salvation. That say imto Zion, thy God reigneth ; not sin and Satan, not lust and appetite, oppressive tyrants, and worse than Egyptian task-masters: but the all-wise and in- finitely gracious Jehovah: he, e\en he setteth up his pare, his peaceful, his spiritual kingdom, in the be- liever's heart, in the Gentile nations, and in all lands. LETTER X. 393 the extensive spread of his Master's glory, I the poised axe and approaching blow, he and the certain commencement of our hap- piness. This pnt into his mouth that af- fectionate and congratulatory address, which, in a very particular manner, is directed to us and our countrymen : " Sing unto the Lord a new song, and his praise from the ends of the earth ; ye that go down to the sea, and all that is therein ; ye isles, and the inhabitants thereof. Let the wilderness and the cities thereof lift up their voice ; let the inhabitants of the rock sing, let them shout from the top of the mountains ! Let them give glory unto the Lord ; and declare his praise in the islands !" Isa. xlii. 10 — 12. We read, in Ezekiel, of the most magni- ficent fleet that ever ploughed the seas. The niHsts were of cedar, Ezek. xxvii. 5, &c. and the benches of ivory. Fine linen, beautified with embroidery floated to the winds, and formed the saiJs. Blue and purple rigged the vessel, and clothed the meanest mariner. Let us suppose, that the freight of this splendid navy was proportioned in value to its sumptuous tackling. Yet how poor, how despicable were either, were both, if esti- mated with the treasures of the gospel ; those divine treasines, which spring from the imputation of our Redeemer's righteous- ness, and which have much the same kind- ly influence on religious practice, as naviga- tion, with all her improvements, has upon traflSc ! Give me leave to confirm this assertion, by selecting a few instances, and applying them in a few interrogatories. One of the benefits proceeding from the imputation of Christ's righteousness, is par- don : pardon, not partial, but complete ; a pardon of each sin, be it ever so heinous ; a pardon of all sins, be they ever so numer- ous. For thus saith God the Lord, who sent both his prophets and apostles, preach- ing peace by " Jesus Christ, I will pardon all their iniquities, whereby they have sin- ned and whereby they have transgressed against me, Jer. xxxiii. 8. To learn the de- sirable nature of this blessing, let us step back into the annals of history, and attend a traitorous unhappy nobleman to his vindic- tive exit. His body is demanded by the ministers of justice. Reluctant and trem- bling he is conducted to the scafibld. There the alarmed criminal sees the mourning block, sees the glittering axe, sees the cof- fin prepared for his corpse, sees thousands of anxious spectators, waiting with eager looks and throbbing hearts, the fearful catas trophe. In a word, he sees death advancing with all the solemnities of horror and wo. Time elapses. The preparatory ceremonies are despatched. The fatal moment is ar- rived. No longer respite can be allowed. He must submit to immediate execution. Accordingly he prostrates himself to receive the stroke ; but, seized with new terrors at starts from the dangerous posture. Again he bends, and again snatches his neck from the impending edge. A third time he lifts liis pale countenance to the pitying crowds and departing light. Once more he bows to the block and once more raises his head, in wishful expectation of the royal cle- mency. Had a messenger appeared, at the critical instant, with a shout of joy upon his tongue, and a sealed pardon in his hand, O ! how transporting the news ! inexpressi- bly welcome the favour ! — What was denied to his passionate desires, denied to the im- portunate solicitations of his friends, is free- ly offered to us in the gospel of Christ ; a pardon of infinitely higher consequence, which obliterates millions and millions of rebellious acts j which extends its blessed eifects not merely through the little span of life, but beyond the gates of the grave — be- yond the boundaries of time — through all the ages of eternity. How unfathomable is that immense flood, on which my Theron lately exe»eised his contemplation ! The toiling plummets, with all their length of cordage, are unable to find a bottom. W^ere the hugest millstones, or the highest towers, or the most spacious ci- ties, cast into that prodigious gulf, they would be totally overwhelmed, and irrecover- ably lost. Therefore the inspired prophet, to show the boundless extent of the divine mercies in Jesus Christ, and to denote the fulness of their pardon who are cleansed in the Redeemer's blood, hath illustrated both by this grand similitude : " Thou wilt cast all their sins into the depths of the sea," Mic. vii. IS); not one, or a few, but all their sins ; not barely behind thy back, but into the sea; and not into the shallow parts, but in the very depths of the ocean ; so that they shall never rise up in judgment — ne- ver be taken notice of, no, nor ever be re- membered any more. With an act of total indemnity, let us join a thorough restoration to favour. If the wrath of an earthly king be as " the roar- ing of a lion," Prov. xix. 12, how much more tremendous is his indignation who is able to cast both body and soul into hell ! If the favour of an earthly sovereign be " as dew upon the grass," how much more de- sirable and delightful his loving-kindness, whom all things in heaven and earth obey i By the righteousness of Jesus Christ, we are freed from all foreboding apprehensions of the former, and established in the com- fortable possession of the latter. The gos- pel renews and ratifies that joyful proclama- tion of the angelic host, " Peace on earth, and good-will to men," Luke ii. 14. God is not only pacified toward believers, but well pleased with them in his dear Son. They are the objects of his complacential S94 THERON AND ASPASIO- delight, and he rejoices over them to do them good. Nay, they are made children, " sons and dauphters of the Lord Almighty," 2 Cor. vi. 18. and if sons, " then heirs of God, and joint heirs with Christ," Rom. viii. 17. The chief captain mentioned in the Acts pur- chased his freedom of the imperial city Rome with a great sum of money. Acts xxii. 28. If such a little transient immunity was so valuable in his esteem, who can express the worth, who can conceive the dignity, of this divine adoption ? Yet it belongs to those who receive the gospel, and are interested in Christ. They have access to the Omni- potent Being, such free and welcome access as a beloved child to an indulgent father. To him they may fly for aid in every diffi- culty ; and from him obtain a supply in all their wants. God, as the sacred charter runs, "is their God." All his lovely, all his adorable perfections, are their glorious inheritance, and exceeding great reward. That eternal power, to which nothing is im- possible, exerts itself as their guard ; and that unerring wisdom, from which nothing is concealed, acts as their guide. His very justice is no longer an incensed adversary, demanding vengeance or meditating des- truction ; but a faithful guarantee, to pro- vide for the punctual execution of the Re- deemer's treaty, and their complete enjoy- ment of its various blessings. What a pri- vilege is this ! Rather, what a cluster of privileges is here ! Weigh the kingdoms of the world, cast all the glories of them into the scale ; and they will be found, when compared with these divine prerogatives, emptier than the bubble that bursts, lighter than the spark that expires. In the gospel are given exceeding great and precious promises : Of such value, tiiat they were procured by the blood of Christ ; of such certainty, that they are ratified by the oath of Jehovah, Heb. vi. 17. So dur- able, that though "all flesh is grass, and all the goodliness thereof as the flower of the grass, this word of our God abideth for ever," I Pet. i. 23 ; so efficacious, that there are no such cordials to I'evive our fainting, and no such bulwarks to secure our endangered souls. With these the Bible is as richly replenished as the clear midnight sky is bespangled with stars. 'I'hey " are all yea and amen," consigned over as a sure unalien- able portion, " to them that are in Jesus Christ." 2 Cor. i- 20. Another benefit, given in consequence of the Redeemer's righteousness, is the sanc- tifying Spirit. A most comprehensive bless ing this ! Our Saviour intimates, that it includes eveiy heavenly gift, is an assem- blage of all good things.* How singular a • Compare Matth. vii. 11. with Luke xi. 13. comfort must it be to blind Bartimeus to have his eyes opened, and behold the all- cheering light of the sun, Mark x. 52. So, and far more comfortable, are the enlightening influences of the blessed Spirit, when they shine upon the wretched creature who sits in darkness and the shadow of death. How peculiar a mercy for the impure and abhor- red leper, to be healed of his inveterate dis- ease ! to feel the soothing sensations of ease, where sores rankled and pain raged ! In- stead of enfeebling languors and loathsome deformity, vigour braces his limbs, and come- liness blooms in his countenance, Matth. viii. 3. Equally benign, and equally salubri- ous, is the ageney of the divine Spirit on our depraved, polluted, sensual minds. How signal was the recovery, and how welcome the change ; when that unhappy creature, so wildly agitated by a mischievous demon, was reinstated in the peaceful possession of himself and his faculties ! when, instead of unnaturally cutting his own flesh, or com- mitting barbarous outrages on innocent tra- vellers, he sat composed and attentive at the feet of Jesus, Mark v- 15, receiving heavenly instruction from his lips, and learn- ing the meekness of wisdom from his ex- ample. So salutary and beneficial is the transforming power of the Holy Ghost the Comforter ; softening the rugged, sweeten- ing the morose, and calming the passionate temper. It is undoubtedly the utmost im- provement, and the highest happiness of our nature, to have the image of the blessed God reinstamped on our hearts. This is an earnest, and an anticipation also of end- less felicity ; a bud which will open in hea- ven, and spread into immortal glory; a dawn, which will shine more and more, till the Sun of Righteousness arises, and brightens it into everlasting day. This bud the sanc- tifying Spirit ingrafts, this dawn the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ difl"uses in the bar- ren and benighted soul. In a v.'ord, receive this righteousness, and you have a title to all blessings, whether they be present or future, bodily or spiri- tual, temporal or eternal. From the ne- cessary conveniences of bread to eat and raiment to put on, even to the crowns of glory and the fulness of joy, all, all are owing to our Redeemer's righteousness. You see now, Theron, that our scheme has no tendency to impoverish your spiritual condition, or diminish your true riches, any more than those tracts of water which sur- round our island are detrimental to the wealth of its inhabitants. Detrimental ! No ; they are an inexhaustible source of treasure. They convey to our use the choicest accom- modations, and the most elegant delights ; such as would in vain be expected, if the whole ocean was converted into the finest meads and most fertile pastures. So — but LETTER X. 395 to apply this comparison, would forestall your principal question. '• Do not these favours, though unspeak- ably precious in themselves, tend to the in- troduction or support of ungodliness ?"' — Quite the reverse. Have we redemption through our Saviour's blood, even the forgive- ness of our sins ? We are redeemed, not that we may sink in supineness, or htunch into licentiousness, but that we may be a " peculiar people zealous of good works." Tit. ii. 14. Are we made the children of God ? Then " let our light so shine before men, that others, seeing our good works, may glorify our Father which is in heaven." Matt. V. 16. This is the genuine conse- quence of such a doctrine, and the proper effect of such a benefit- Are we vested with sacred privileges ? These admonish us, these urge us, to walk worthy of him " who hath called us to his kingdom and glory." 1 Thess. ii. 12. Shall the citizens of hea- \'eii be animated with no higher views than the slaves of appetite and drudges of the world ? Are we constituted heirs of the promises ? The grace which they ascertain is intended to make us partakers of a divine nature, 2 Pet. i. 4, and the encouragement which they administer incites us to cleanse ourselves from all filthiness of flesh and spirit, incites us to perfect holiness in the fear of God. 2 Cor vii. 1. Such high im- munities are a most endearing persuasive, not to disgrace, but magnify — not to pro- voke, but please — their unspeakably benefi- cent author. I might farther observe, that holi- ness is one of the most distinguished bless- ings in our system j nay, is the very central blessing, to which all the others verge, in which they all terminate. Were we chosen from eternity ? It was for this purpose, that we may " be holy and unblamable in love." Eph. i. 4<. Are we called in time ? It is to this intent, that we may " show forth the praises of Him who hath called us out of darkiTCss into his marvellous light." I Pet. ii. 9. Are we " created again in Christ Jesus ?" It is, to capacitate us for acceptable service, and to furnish us unto every good work, Eph. ii. 10. " I will put my spirit within you, saith the Lord." For what end ? " That ye may walk in my statutes, and keep my judgments, and do them," Ezek. xxxvi. 27. Here comes in my The- ron's favourite endowment — sincere obedi- ence- Far, very far from discarding sincere obedience, we would only introduce it under its due character, and in its proper order. Under its due character; as the fruit, not the cause, of our interest in Christ's right- eousness : In its due order ; as following, not preceding the gift of justification. These privileges, my dear friend, are sa- lutary as the pool of Bethesda. John v- 4. Theyare restorative as the waters of Siloam. John ix. 7, or like that sacred stream flow- ing from the sanctuiuy, which healed the rivers, healed the sea, and made even the desert flourish. Ezek. xlvii. 8, 9. If jus- tification by the righteousness of Christ had a tendency to subvert the foundation of ho- liness, to confirm the hypocritical professor in his neglect of moral duties, or discourage the sincere convert from the pursuit of real virtue ; it would, doubtless, be unworthy of any acceptation, or rather, worthy of uni- versal abhorrence. But I dare appeal, not only to the nature of the doctrine, and the reason of things, but to the experience of all ; — yes, of all who " have tasted that the Lord is gracious." 1 Pet. ii. 3. " Speak, ye who are enallcd to believe, that God is reconciled ; has received the all-satisfying atonement, and placed his Son's righteous- ness to your account ! that he regards you as his children, and will receive you to his glory ! Have you not, under such convictions, felt your hearts exulting with conscious joy ; and every power of your souls springing forward to glorify your heavenly Father — glorify him by every instance of obedience, fidelity, and zeal?" Can such invaluable benefits have a pre- judicial influence on our practice, if to the consideration of their superlative worth, we add that unequalled price by which they were purchased ? ' He who is high above all height, humbled himself to be made of a woman, and born in a stable ; that we might be admitted into the family of God, and exalted to the mansions of heaven. And will this great humiliation, which is the basis of our happiness, prompt us to look down with contempt on others, or en- tertain arrogant thoughts of ourselves ? The Only Begotten and the supreme de- light of the Father, was numbered wish transgressors and ranked with felons, that we might be joined to the innumerable com- pany of angels, and associated with saints in glory everlasting. And will any one make this a precedent or a plea for "walk- ing in the counsel of the ungodly; for stand- ing in the way of sinners ; or sitting in the seat of the scornful?" Psalm i. 1. All manner of evil was spoken of the faultless Jesus ; his blessed name was vili- fied by blaspheming tongues, and his un- blamable conduct blackened with the foul- est aspersions ; on purpose that we may be applauded \^hen we are judged, and each hear those transporting words, " Well done thou good and faithful servant!" Matt. xxv. 21. Will this embolden us to dishonour our Lord and stain our holy piofession ? Shall we from hence be induced to open the mouths of his enemies, and furnish them with occasion to speak reproachfully ? He went, galled with the lashes of the 396 THERON AND ASPASIO. scourge, and penetrated with the pungent thorns ; he went, loaded with the execra- ble cross, and marking the way with his precious blood ; thus he went to his igno- minious and tormenting exit, that we may enter into Zion with songs of trium])h on our lips, and with everlasting joy on our heads. Does this invite us to go, crowned with rosebuds, to the house of riot ; or go, muffled in disguise, to the midnight revel ? Will it not rather incline us to sit down at his pierced feet, and bathe them with our tears, and take delight* in mourning for our crucified Lord ? Behold ! he hangs on the cursed tree. There, there he hangs ; rent with wounds, and racked with pain. He pours his groans, and spills his blood. He bows his head, his patient, princely head, and dies — aston- ishing, ravishing consideration ! he dies for you and me. And will this harden our hearts, or arm our hands, to crucify him afresh by any allowed iniquity? Does not reason suggest, and Christianity dictate, and all that is ingenious enforce the apostle's important inference ? " If one died for all, then they which live should not henceforth Hve unto themselves, but unto him which died for them," 2 Cor. v. 15, 16. He thought upon us long before the foundations of the world were laid ; he re- members us, now he is exalted to the right hand of the majesty in the heavens ; and will never, never forget us, through all the revolutions of eternity. And is this a mo- tive to forget his name, to disregard his word, or to imitate the shameful neutrality and indiiference of Gallio? Impressed with a sense of this invariable and everlasting kindness, surely we shall declare ourselves as those captives in Babylon concerning their dear native city Jerusalem ; " If I forget thee," O blessed Jesus, " let my right hand forget her cunning ; if I do not remember thee, let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth," Psalm cxxxvii. 5, 6. Remember thee ! Ay, my dear Lord, while memory holds a seat In this de\'oted breast — Remember thee ! Yes, from the table of my memory I'll wipe away all trivial fond records, Which youth and observation copied there, And thy remembrance all alone shall live Within the book, and volume of my brain. Shakspeare. Is it possible, Theron, for the contem- plation of such goodness to weaken the motives, or relax the springs of obedi- ence ? As soon may lenient balms kill, and • The sorrow arising from such tender and grate- ful views of the crucified Jesus, is that evangelical godly sorrow, which " worketh repentance unto sal- vation not to be repented of," 2 Cor. vii. 111. And is there not reason, — when we consider the pains he felt, the curse he bore, and the blood he shed— is there not sbundant reason to say witli Hornet's afflicted hero, rankest poisons cure. Is such a belief cal- culated to discourage duty, and patronize licentiousness ? Just as much as vernal showers are fitted to cleave the earth with chinks, or summer sims to glaze the waters with ice. When Antony made an oration to the soldiers on occasion of Ccesar's death ; when he showed them their honoured mas- ter's robe, transfixed with so many daggers ; when he reminded them of the victories they had won under their assassinated com- mander ; when he farther informed them, that their murdered general had remembered them in his will, had bequeathed all his fine gardens and beautiful walks to their use and delight ; — heavens ! how they took fire ! Revenge sparkled in their eyes ; revenge flamed in their bosoms ; revenge was all their cry. They flew to the houses of the conspirators ; laid them even with the ground ; and, had they met the owners, would have torn them limb from limb. Some such resentment against sin will a sense of our adored Redeemer's suft'erings excite ; especially when set home by his blessed Spirit, and considered in connexion with those detestable iniquities which caused them, and with those invaluable blessings which were procured by them. Nothing, nothing is so effectual to beget the most ir- reconcilable abhorrence of all ungodliness, to make the remembrance of it bitter as wormwood, the temptations to it horrible as hell. Let me remind you of an incident related by your favom-ite historian Xenophon. Cy- rus had taken captive the young prince of Armenia, together with his beautiful and blooming piincess, whom he had lately mar- ried, and of whom he was passionately fond. When both were brought to the tribunal, Cyrus asked the prince, what he would give to be reinstated in his kingdom ? He an- swered, with an air of indifference, " That as for his crown, and his own liberty, he valued them at a very low rate: But, if Cyrus would restore his beloved princess to her native dignity and hereditary possessions, he should infinitely rejoice ; and would pay, (this he uttered with tenderness and ardour), would willingly pay his life for the purchase." Could such a declaration, so highly endear- ing, alienate the affections of the princess, or induce her to violate her fidelity ? Let her own conduct answer the query. When all the prisoners were dismissed with free- dom, it is inijjossible to express how they were charmed with their royal benefactor. Some celebrated his martial accomplish- ments ; some applauded his social virtues ; all were prodigal of their praises, and lavish in grateful acknowledgments. And you, said the prince, (addressing himself to his bride), what think you of Cyrus ? I did not observe him, replied the princess- Not ob- LETTER X. serve liim ! Upon what then was your at- tention fixed ? Upon that dear and ge- nerous man who declared, " he would purchase my liberty at the expense of his very lite."* Was her heart impressed, were all her thoughts engrossed by that benevo- lent offer ? And shall ours be less affected with the incomparably more tender and en- dearing love of Christ ? He was not only willing, but actually laid down his life for us ; a life immensely precious, and of higher dignity than all heavens. He laid down his life, not for amiable persons or worthy crea- tures, but for vile earth, and miserable sin- ners ; purchasing thereby for us and our children, privileges of inestimable worth and of everlasting duration. Will not such beneficence, so unmerited, so unequalled, win the most reluctant, and melt the most obdurate heart ? The heart which is not wrought upon by this miracle of divine compassion, must be steel, must be adamant — quite impenetrable, and abso- lutely incorrigible. " O thou ever-blessed, thou all-gracious Redeemer, ' thy love to us is wonderful ; passing,' 1 will not say, ' the love of women,' 2 Sam. i. 26, but the power of language and the reach of thought ! Who can hold out against such charming attrac- tives? who can resist such heavenly good- ness ? Only let a sense of thy love be always warm, always operative on our minds. This shall be instead of a thousand argu- ments to engage, instead of ten thousand motives to quicken our obedience." Other motives may produce external services, or hypocritical performances ; terrors may ex- tort the drudgery of the hand, bribes may purchase the adulation of the tongue ; but this conciliates the will, this proselytes the affections, this captivates the soul, and makes all its powers " like the chariots of Amina- dab," Cant. vi. 12, ready, expedite, and ac- tive in duty. Hear the holy apostle giving an account of himself and his spiritual state- We speaks in language somewhat similar, though great- ly superior, to the profession of the Arme- nian princess : " so great is the glory, so rich is the grace, so superabundant are the merits of my Redeemer, that I am deter- mined to know nothing but Christ Jesus, and him crucified." 1 Cor. ii. 2. Ask the same zealous apostle, what prompted him to such indefatigable diligence, and animated him with such invincible fortitude? Why did he decline no toil, and dread no danger ; rejoice in tribulation, and glory in reproach ;f S97 welcome persecution, and defy death ? This is his reply, '• The love of Christ constrain- eth me ; bearcth me on, with much the same strong, steady, prevailing influence, which winds and tide exert when they waft the vessel to its destined harbour." Shall we hear what another disciple, one of the most advanced proficients in divine love, says upon the subject ? one who learned his knowledge, not in the school of philosophy, but on his Saviour's bosom ? '' This is the love of God, that we walk after his commandments." 2 John, ver. 6. This is the natural fruit, this the certain evi- dence, of love to that glorious, transcendent, and adorable Being. What ? Not that we supinely neglect, much less that we profane- ly violate his sacred precepts, but that, with assiduity and delight, we make them the rule of our conduct. " Charity edifieth ;" I Cor. viii. 1 ; this divine love, far from raising the foundations, far from demolishing the struc- ture, " buildeth up," (OiKolnfiu) the fair fabric of universal godliness. Let me borrow an illustration from your own letter. When a pebble is cast into the smooth canal, it moves the centre and forms a circle. The first creates a second, the second breaks into a third; they continue to multiply and expand themselves, till the whole surface is covered with circular un- dulations. Thus, the love of an all-gracious Redeemer, when " shed abroad in the soul by the Holy Ghost/' Rom. v. 5, will diffuse itself through every intellectual faculty, and extend to every species of duty, till the whole heart is filled with the image, and the whole behaviour regulated by the law of the blessed God- So that I am persuad- ed there is a great deal of truth and solidi- ty, as every one must acknowledge there is a peculiar spirit and beauty, in the apos- trophe of our poet ; Talk they of morals ? O thou bleeding love ! Thou maker of new morals to mankind. The grand morality is love of Thee. Night Thoughts, No. iv. You mentioned the loadstone, as most signally and most extensively serviceable in the sea-faring business. Such is faith, so efficacious in practical Christianity. This, perhaps, you think a scanty and defective principle. The property of showing the northern part of the world may seem equally * Eyw lU'.V KZ-V T'/ii •4'V^ni 9^ICCIft>)V aiffTt Xenoph. de C'jri Irtstit. lib. iii. t That supreme affection to the blessed Jesus, which reigned in the hearts of his primitive disciples, could never have been so emphatically displayed by any strokes of eloquence, as by their own cheerful and heroic manner of expressing themselves, with re lation to their sutferings. Far from regretting, " I take pleasure (says the apostle) in afflictions." 2 Cor. xii. lU. " To you," adds the same apostle, " it is given (•A;*?'"'^'') ^s a desirable privilege, to suffer for the adorable Jesus." Phil. i. 29. St. Luke, re- cording the outrages committed on two disciples, for preaching boldly in the name of Christ, uses a phrase remarkably gallant and spirited: " They departed from the council rejoicing, «t; KCcrnlcoSntrav aTi- //■aa-^'iiMKi, that they were counted worthy to suffer shame," in so venerable and glorious a cause. 398 THERON AND ASPASIO. But as the one is me from hell, but established my title to mean and inconsiderable- the very soul of navigation, the other is the all the blessings included in the promises, very life of holiness. It is somewhat like and all the felicity laid up in heaven ? And the stone, which the Babylonian monarch can I neglect to seek those invaluable bless- saw in his dream, " cut from the rock with- ings, or forbear to aspire after this immense out hands," Dan. ii. 34, which though des- felicity? Can I be so ungrateful as to af- picable to human aj)pearance, was mighty in front, so insensible as to forget, the infinite- operation ; destroyed the superb statue ; ly beneficent Author of both ? Am I per- became a great mountain, and filled the suaded that the Prince of Peace is entered whole earth. Thus will faith exert and dif- , into glory, as my forerunner, Heb. vi. 20, fuse its kindly yet triumphant energy, to and has prepared mansions of bliss for my every corruption, that it may be subdued ; to every virtue, that it may be cherished. Faith is a real persuasion, that the bless- ed Jesus has shed his blood for me, and ful- filled all righteousness in my stead ; that, through this great atonement and meritori- ous obedience he has purchased, even for my sinful soul, reconciliation with God, sanctifying grace, and every spiritual bless- ing.* When tlie Almighty sunk the cavities of the ocean, and replenished them with the liquid element, he provided an inexhaust- ible source of moisture, for the refreshment of every animal, and the nutriment of every vegetable. In like manner, whoever he works this true faith, he plants the seed of universal holiness, and provides for the pro- pagation of every virtue. This persuasion of the divine good-will overcomes our na tural reluctance, and excites a fervent de- sire to please our most merciful Father. This experience of the abundant grace of Christ attracts and assimilates the soul ; turning it into his amiable likeness, "as the wax is turned to the imprinted seal." What will be the language of such a person ? *' Did my exalted Master empty himself and become poor, that his most unworthy servant might be filled with all the fulness of God? Eph. iii. 19. And shall not I cheerfully denj'' myself the expensive plea- sures of the world, that I may have some- \\-hat to bestow on his needy children ? Has the death of Christ, as a punishment, satis- fied the most rigorous justice for my sins ; as a price, has it redeemed me from every evil; and as a sacrifice, made my peace with God most high ? And shall I not, by these mercies of my dying Lord, be induced to present all the members of my body, and all the faculties of my soul, as aliving sacrifice to his honour, Rom. xii. J, to be employed in his service, and resigned to his will ? Do I believe that my Saviour has not only rescued * This definition of faith may possibly, at the first view, dissatisfy and alarm even some pious people, includinf;, as they apprehend, too great a degree of assurance. But if they please to take it in connexion with the explanation and adjustmentdelivered in the sixteenth Dialogue, I hope allcauseof disapprobation or surprise will vanish. I flatter myself that the sen- timent will be found, not only comfortable for the sinner, but agreeable to Scripture ; and truly unex- ceptionable, as well as highly desirable. final reception ? And shall I not follow him thither in my hopes and my affections ; be as a pilgrim below, and have my conversa- tion above ? Is not this a most sweet and effectual method of gaining my heart, and if my heart, then all my powers, to his bless- ed self?" Such, my dear Theron, will be the ef- fects of faith. Therefore, it is not in vain, much less to the discouragement of real virtue, that the scripture lays such a stress iqjon faith : so frequently urges the impor- tance and necessity of faith ; represents faith as the principal work of the divine Spirit, and the great instrument of receiving salva- tion : because it is a sure, a sovereign means of " purifying the heart," Acts xv. 9; and never fails to " work by love," Gal. v. 6. Was faith, as some people are apt to ima- gine, like a candle put under a bushel, or like the lamps which burn in sepulchres ; it \^ould then be an insignificant labour to inculcate it, and no better than an empty flourish of words to celebrate it. But no- thing is more certain than that faith is a vital, an operative, a victorious principle. Christ is a store-house of all good. Whatever is necessary to remove our guilt, whatever is expedient for renewing our na- ture, whatever is proper to fit us for the eternal fruition of God, all this is laid up in Christ ; and all this is received by faith, for application, use, and enjoyment. Ac- cordingly, when Zaccheus believed, he com- menced a new man ; his bowels yearned with compassion ; the rapacious publican became a friend to the needy, and a fa- ther to the poor, Luke xix. 8 — When the Macedonians believed, how eminently was their spirit ennobled and their practice im- proved. Though pressed with afllictions, their souls oveiflowed with joy ; and, even in the deepest poverty, they signalized themselves by the abundance of their liber- ality.* When the first converts believed, the chana-e of their behaviour was so le- * 2 Cor. viii. 2. Here is, especially in the original, as fine an antithesis, perhaps, as ever was penned. Since my last notes were so copious, I shall forego the pleasure of particularizing the beauties of this clause. I leave it to the lovtr of the sacred litera- ture to admire the apostle's expression, to be charm- ed with the spirit of the Macedonian believers, and to derive edification from both. LETTER XI. 399 ma.ikable, the holiness of t'.ieir lives so ex- emplary, that they won the favour and com- manded the respect of all the people, Acts ii. 47. In short, it is as impossible for the sun to be in his meridian sphere, and not to dissipate darkness or diffuse light, as for faith to exist in the soul, and not to exalt the temper and meliorate the conduct. That my dear Theron may be established in faith, may increase in faith, may abound in faith, is the most affectionate wish that thought can suggest or friendship adopt. May his faith therefore be established like the moun- tain-oaks, increase like the progressive stream, till it spreads and. abounds like the overflowing flood ! I intended to have closed my letter, and confirmed my point, by a very memora- ble story. But however your patience may persevere, my time fails, and my hand is weary. The next post, if nothing unex- pected intervenes, shall bring you the se- quel. May it, when brought to my friend, be as " a nail fastened in a sure place " and give the rivet of conviction to all these important truths ! In the mean time, or rather at all times, I reniain cordially and invariably yours, ASPASIO. LETTER XI. ASPASIO TO TuERONf. Dear Theron, — Faith in the imputed righteousness of Jesus Christ, is a funda- mental principle in that in\ahiable sys- tem of sacred and divine philosophy — the gospel ; by which the heavenl}' Teacher is continually training up millions of ration- al and immortal creatures, for the true per- fection of their nature, for the final fruition of their God ; or, in other words, for a state of consummate happiness and ever- lasting exaltation. In this school, may you and I be humble students and daily proficients ! While others are ambitious of glittering distinctions and sounding titles, may it be our highest aim, our greatest glory, to answer the character of believers ! By this character, the supreme Lord dis- tinguishes his chosen people, and denomi- nates the heirs of salvation. This cha- racter stands fairest in the book of life, and brightest in the annals of eternity. This character, however neglected or dis- esteemed among men, will be remembered and had in honour when the pompous names of statesman and generalissimo are known no more. As faith is of such singular and extensive efhcacy in genuine Christianity, methinks I would have all our meditations terminate on its glorious object, and be calculated to in- vigorate so benefical a principle. When we reflect on that stupendous act, the crea- tion of the world out of nothing ; let us re- member, it was his act, who " obtained eter- nal redemption for us." When we contem- plate that immense theatre of wonders, the heavens and their shining hosts ; let us not forget that they are all his works, who " brought in everlasting righteousness" for us. Do we turn our thoughts to the ocean, that spacious and magnificent canal which covers more than half the globe ? It was formed by his word, and is obedient to his will, who "loved us and washed us from our sins in his own blood." Do we take a view of the earth, that grand and inexhaust- ible magazine, which furnishes such a mul- tiplicity of conveniences for so many millions of creatures ? It is all his property, and wholly at his disposal, who " emptied him- self " (fxsvao'sv Eayrov,) for our sake, and " had not where to lay his bead." Phil. ii. 7. For thus saith the inspired philosopher, thus saith the oracle of revelation, "All things were made by him, and for him. Col. i. 16. The great Creator has enriched this ha- bitable globe with a profusion of good. He has adorned it with a variety, an order, and a beauty, which are perfectly charming. He has ennobled it with a dignity, a sub- limity, and a grandeur, which are at once delightful and astonishing. In all this, rea- son cannot but discern a clear manifestation of power, a bright display of wisdom, and a rich demonstration of benignity. But will the Creator himself vouchsafe to be made flesh, on purpose that he may obey and die for his guilty creatures ? This is what neither the utmost penetration of men, nor the very superior intelligence of angels, could ever have demonstrated, discovered, or conceiv- ed. This exceeds whatever the elements have produced, whatever the sun has beheld, as much as the extent and magnificence of the planetary system exceed the dimensions and the furniture of a shepherd's hut. To reveal this, is the blessed peculiarity of the gospel. To know and believe this, is the distinguishing prerogative of a Christian. To apply this, to dwell upon this, to con- nect this with all our observations of the universe, should be our favourite and ha- bitual employ. This will improve wonder into devotion, and raise the entertainments of science into the joy of salvation. This will render every philosophical speculation a strengthener of our faith, and make the various scenes of nature a guide to grace, and a step to glory. When this is done, then all things attain their proper end ; and as they are by Christ, so they are for Christ. But I forget myself, my business, and my promise. I am to establish the point 400 THERON AND ASPASIO. by incontestible fact, not to embellish it by loose harangue- With pleasure I address myself to discharge the obligation ; and ex- emplify, in a very memorable instance, the power of faith on religious practice. From whence shall I fetch my exemplification ? From the memoirs of the indefatigable apos- tle of the Gentiles ? Here I find one, most concisely, and at the same time most forci- bly displayed. " After these things were ended," says the sacred historian, " Paul purposed in the spirit, when he had passed through Mace- donia and Achaia, to go to Jerusalem, say- ing, after I have been there, 1 must also see Rome-" Acts xix. 21. Who can ob- serve, and not admire, this plain unambi- tious manner of relating a series of labours, the most signally successful, and most ex- tensively useful? Nothing in human conduct ever surpassed the greatness of the one, and perhaps nothing in historical composi- tion ever equalled the simplicity of the other. St. Paul had already reduced Ephesus and Asia to the obedience of Christ. He had already brought Macedonia and Achaia into subjection to the gospel. He had long ago erected the standard and spread the triumphs of Christianity in the regions of Arabia. Yet, as if he had hitherto achieved nothing, he bends his forces towards Jeru- salem. Then he marks out Rome for the seat of his spiritual warfare. After this he forms the same beneficent design upon Spain ; including in his comprehensive plan the metropolis and the boundaries* of the known world. The universe is but just large enough to be the scene of his action ; he never discontinues the charitable cam- paign but with the last breath of his life ; and he speaks of this unintermitted course of arduous and dangerous services, as if he was only going to make some friendly visit, or join in a party of innocent pleasure : " After 1 have been at Jerusalem, I must also see Rome-"f Which of your Alexanders, which of your Csesars, which of all the heroes renowned in Grecian or Roman story, can vie with the zeal and magnanimity of this poor despised tent-maker? so poor, that he was constrained to work with his oivn hands for a morsel oi bread ; so despised, that he was frequently treated as the offscouring of all things. Notwithstanding all these discouragements, what did he not attempt, what did he not accomplish, for the honour of his Master and the good of his fellow-creatures ? — He embarks in a shallop ; he has neither shield nor spear : yet he purposes to command the ocean, and conquer the globe. What great- ness of soul was here ! he expects (Acts XX. 23,) nothing but poverty, contempt, and death ; yet his heart is big with the hopes of enriching, ennobling, and saving ages and generations. What benevolence of temper was this ! Should you inquire concerning this illustrious champion of the cross, who were his potent auxiliaries ? None but the divine Spirit. What were his mighty wea- pons ? Nothing but the word of truth and grace. Whence proceeded his intrepid, his enterprising, his all-conquering resolution? Only from faith, a lively faith in Jesus Christ. This, I think, is a sufficient confirmation of my doctrine. Nevertheless, 1 .lave an- other instance to produce : one that was ex- hibited in an age when the glorious object of our faith shone with dim lustre, and with distant beams ; yet it may justly be admired, and will hardly be eclipsed, by the most en- lightened among the Christian saints. To keep you tio longer in suspense, the case I mean is that which Moses records, and the apostle celebrates -. " By faith Abraham, when he was tried, offered up Isaac ; ami he that had received the promises, offered up his only begotten son." Heb. xi. 17. As this is so singular an example of the efficacious and triumphant operation of faith, unequalled in any nation of the world or un- der any dispensation of religion, you will give me leave to dwell a little on some of its marvellous circumstances. * Spain was then supposed to be the boundary of the western, as the Ganges was reckoned the extremity of the eastern world. Omnibus in terris quse sunt a Gadibus usque Auroram et Gangen.— Jhu. Sat. x. t I am quite charmed, I must confess, with this very simple, but incomparably gallant manner of the apostle's speaking. Far beyond all the pomp of pa- negyric, it displays the hero. When a handful of Spartans undertook to defend the pass of Thermopyla- against the whole army of Persia, so prodigious, it was reported, were the mul- titudes of the Persians, that the very flight of their arrows would intercept the shining of the sun. Then, said Dieneces, one of the Spartan leaders, " we shall have the advantage of fighting in the shade." Just before the battle of Agincourt, news were brought to King Henry's camp that the French were exceeding- ly numerous, and would take the field with more than six times the number of the English troops. To which the brave Captain Gam immediately replied. Is it so ? '• Then there are enough to be cut in pieces, enough to be taken prisoners, and enough to run away." A commanding oflficer, 1 think, among the royalists, being besieged by the parliament forces, was summoned to surrender the castle. The sum- mons he rejected, and treated with contempt. Upon this the enemy threatened, that, if he persisted in his resolution, the walls should, without farther delay, be battered to the ground. "What if they are ?" was his answer, " I am not obliged to rebuild them." Such calm and undaunted sentiments, amidst cir- cumstances of the most imminent danger, argue an uncommon fortitude :md superiority of mind. But, if we consider the nature nf the apostle's enterprise; that it was nothing less than an open attack on the empire of Satan, a declared war against the whole idolatrous world, all which was to be attended with persecution and imprisonment, was to end in martyr- dom and death ; if we consider this, I belie\c, no- thing will appear at once so humble and so exalted, so modest yet so magnanimous, as the turn and air of his expression; " After I have been at Jerusalem, I must also see Rome." LETTER XI. 401 Abraham was an eminent and distinguish- ed servant of the most high God, favoured with peculiar manifestations of the divine will, and dignified. with the honourable title of his Maker's friend, 2 Chron. xx. 7, Isa. Ixi. 8. Yet even this man is harassed with a long succession of troubles ; and, which was reckoned in those ages the most deplorable calamity, "goes childless."* Long he waits, worshipping God with the most patient resignation. At length an ora- cle from the Lord gives him hope, gives him assurance of a son. Joyfully he receives the promise, and rests in humble expectation of its accomplishment. Several years run their rounds, but no pleasing infant prattles in his arms, or is dandled upon his knees. At last the handmaid becomes pregnant. But what a disappointment was here : This is the son of the bond-woman, not of the free. How afflicting the case of this excellent person ! His kinsfolk and acquaintance see their olive-branches flourishing round about their tables. Even his ungodly neighbours have children at their desire, and leave the residue of their substance for their babes. But Abraham, the worshipper of the Al- mighty, the favourite of heaven ; this Abra- ham is destitute of an heir to support his name, to propagate his family, and inherit the blessing. O the straits to which the believer is sometimes reduced ! How does a sovereign Providence try his faith, as it were in a furnace of fire ! not that it may be consumed, but refined, and come forth with augmented lustre, to the praise of ever- faithful, all-sufticient grace. God is pleased to renew the grant, and assure him more explicitly, that Sarah shall have a son. But this notice comes at a very late period in life, when Sarah is ad- vanced in years, and too old, according to the course of nature, to conceive. However, the pious patriarch " staggers not through unbelief; but hopes even against hope," Rom. iv. 18 — 20. Is it improbable? is it difficult ? nay, is it to all human appearance impossible ? So much the fitter for the ex- ertion, and so much the more proper for the display of almighty power. At last the gift so earnestly desired is vouchsafed. Sarah has a child— a son — an Isaac ; one who should be a source of con- solation and delight to his parents, should " fill their mouth with laughter, and their * There was so much gall in tliis calamity, that it imbittered every other species of happiness. Visited by this affliction, the patriarch could taste no joy in his late signal victory ; all his worldly prosperity was insipid, and he seems to have been incapable of rehshnig any oth?r comfort, "what wilt thou give me, seeing I go childless?" Gen. xv. 2. I would entreat the reader to take particular notice of this circumstance. It will have the same effect upon the representation of Abraham's obedience, and the whole series of his dif- ficulties, as a magnifying glass has upon the objects to which It IS ajiplied. tongue with joy."* Psalm cxxvi. 2. With tender care, doubtless, this pleasant plant is reared. Many prayers are put up for his long life, and great happiness. The fond parents watch over him as over the apple of their own eye. Their life is bound up in the life of the lad, Gen. xliv. 30. He grows in grace as he grows in stature. So amia- ble is his temper, and so engaging his beha- viour, as could not fail of endearing him even to a stranger ; how much more to such indulgent parents, after so long a state of barrenness, and so many expectations so frequently frustrated. Now, methinks, we are ready to congra- tulate the happy sire, and flatter ourselves, that his tribulations have an end, that the storms which ruffled the noon of life are blown over, and the evening of his age is becoming calm and serene. But let " not him that girdeth on his harness, boast him- self as he that putteth it oflf," 1 Kings xx. 11. Our warfare on earth is never accom- plished, till we bow our head and give up the ghost. The sharpest, the severest trial is still behind. God, the supreme and un- controllable God, demands the child. It is the will of heaven, that he make his exit, just as he arrives at manhood. " Where now, Abraham, are all thy pleasing pros- pects ? How often didst thou say in thy fond delighted heart, " This same shall comfort us concerning our trouble ?" Gen. V. 29. Many have been my sorrows, but this child shall dry up my tears, and bring me to my grave in peace. Alas ! this love- ly flower is to be cut down in its fairest, fullest bloom. All thy shining hopes are overcast in a moment." " Abraham V'f says God. — Abraham knows the voice. It is the voice of conde- scending goodness. He had often heard it with a rapture of delight. Instantly he re- plies, " Here I am, speak, Lord ! for thy servant is all attention ;" hoping, no doubt, to receive some fresh manifestation of the divine good-will to himself and his family ; or some new discovery of the method in which the divine wisdom would accomplish the promises, " I will multiply thy seed ; I will make thy seed as the dust of the earth, and in thy seed shall all the families of the earth be blessed!" * This is the import of the Hebrew name Isaac, t The sentence with which the inspired historian introduces this affecting narrative, is unhappily tran- slated in our Bibles, Ql^liKJ^KHDi, ^o'^ did tempt Abraham. This expression seems, more than seems to clash with the doctrine of St. James, chap. i. 13, and cannot but sound harsh to those ears, which have been accustomed to understand, by temp- ter and tempting, persons utterly odious and practices extremely pernicious. Whereas the true and natural signification of the original is, "he tried or explored." God sounded the depth, and measured the height of his servant's faith, in order to erect an everlastinjl monument of the victorious efficacy of this sacred lirinciple, and exhibit an illustrious pattern to all them who should hereafter believe. 2 D 402 THERON AND ASPASIO " Take thy son," adds God. And might not Abraham reasonably expect, that, since his son was advanced to years of matur- ity, he should be directed how to settle him in the world with honour and advantage ; where to find a virtuous and fruitful partner of his bed ? He is commanded, not barely to take his son, but his only son, his son Isaac, whom he loved. How must these affecting images awaken all that soft com- placency, and all that tender triumph, which are known only to the fondly feeling heart of a parent ! Must not such an introduction, so remarkably endearing, heighten his ex- pectation of some signal mercy ; to be con- ferred on the beloved youth, and would it not render the blessing peculiarly accepta- ble, more than doubly welcome ? Was he not then startled, was he not horribly amazed, when, instead of some re- newed expression of the divine favour, he received the following orders? " Take now thy son — thy only son Isaac — whom thou lovest, and get thee into the land of Mor- jah, and offer him there for a burnt-offering upon one of the mountains which I will tell thee of," Gen. xxii. 2. Was ever message so alarming ? each word more piercing to parental ears, than the keenest dagger to the heart. Every clause brings an additional load of misery ; till the whole command swells into the most accumulated and aggravated wo- " Abraham, take thy son." Who but Abraham could have forebore remonstrating and pleading on such an occasion ? — Ana- nias, being charged with a commission to Saul the persecutor, takes upon him to ar- gue the case with his almighty Sovereign ; " Lord, I have heard by many concerning this man, how much evil he hath done to thy saints at Jerusalem ; and here he hath authority from the chief priests to bind all that call upon thy name," Acts ix. 13, 14. Sure, it can never be safe or expedient to present myself voluntarily before him, who came hither breathing out threatenings and slaughter against me ! What is this but to court danger, and run with open eyes into, ruin ? Thus Ananias ; and with how much greater appearance of reason might Abra- ham have replied, " Lord, shall I lose my child ? lose him, almost as soon as I have received him? Didst thou give him only to tantalize thy servant ? Remember, gra- cious God, the name he bears- How shall he answer its cheering import, how shall he be a source of satisfaction to his parents, or the father of many nations, if thou takest him away in his unmarried state, and in the very prime of his years ? " If sin lies at the door, let me expiate the guilt. Let thousands of rams, let every bullock in my stalls bleed at thy altar. My wealth, blessed Lord, and all my goods, are nothing in comparison of my Isaac Com- mand me to be stript of my possessions ; command me to roam as a fugitive and a vagabond on the earth, and I will magnify thy holy name. Only let my child, my dear child, be spared. " Or, if nothing will appease thy indigna- tion but human blood, let my death be the sacrifice. Upon me be the vengeance. I am old and gray-headed, the best of my days are past, and the best of my services done. If this tottering wall tumbles, there will be little or no cause for regret. But if the pillar of my house, and the foundation of my hopes, — if he be snatfhed from me, what good will my life do me ? " O my son, my son, would (iod I might die for thee !" 2 Sam. xviii. 33- " If it must be a blooming youth, in the flower of his days, be pleased, most merciful God, to select the vittim from some fruit- ful family. There are those who abound in children. Children are multiplied unto them ; and though many were removed, yet would their table be full. There are those who have flocks and herds, w bereas I have only this one little lamb, 2 i*am. xii. 3, the very solace of my soul, and the stay of my declining years ; aad shall this be taken away, while all those are left ?' Yes, Abraham, it is thy son, and not an- other's, that is marked for the victim. What distress, had he not been supported by faith, what exquisite distress, must have overwhelmed this affectionate parent ! How could he refrain from crying out, and with a flood of tears ? — " If the decree cannot be reversed, if it must be the fruit of my own body, O ! that Ishmael, the son of the handmaid — How shall I speak it ? my heart bleeds at the thought ; at the thought even of his expiring agonies, and untimely death. But as for Isaac, the son of my beloved spouse, the son of my old age, the crown of all my labours ; how, how shall I survive such a loss ? The blow that goes to bis heart, must be fatal to us both. " Yet if he must die, and there is no reme- dy ; may he not at least expire by a natural dissolution ? May not some common dis- temper unloose the cords of life, and lay him down gently in the tomb ? May not his fond mother and myself seal his closing eyes, and soften his dying pangs by our tender offices?" No, Abraham. Thy son must be slaugh- tered on the altar. He shall have no other bed of death than the pile of hewn wood ; no other winding sheet, than his own clot- ted gore- The sacrificing knife, and not any common disease, shall bring him to his end. And think not to satisfy thy sorrow- ing fondness, by paying him the last hon- ours of a decent interment. It is the Lord's will that he be cut in pieces, consumed to ashes, and made a burnt-offering ; so that LETTER XI. 403 ViOtliing shall remain to he preserved or em- balmed. It shall not he in thy power to soothe thy grief, by resorting to his grave, and weeping at his sepulchre, and saying — " Here lies Isaac !" " But if all must be executed, God grant these eyes may never behold the dismal tra- gedy ! If my Isaac must be bound hand and foot for the slaughter, if he must receive the steel into his bosom, and welter in his own innocent blood, heaven forbid that I should behold so killing a spectacle !" Even this mitigation cannot be granted. Thou must not only be an eye-witness of his agony, but be the executioner of thy Isaac. Thy hands must lift the deadly weapon ; thy hands must point it to the beloved breast ; thine own hands must urge its way through the gushing veins and shiv- ering flesh, till it be plunged in the throb- bing heart. God will not permit the work to be done by another. The father, the father must be the butcher. Is not the wretched father stunned and thunder-struck ! Does he not stand fixed in horror, and speechless with grief ? What words can be mournful enough to express his sorrows ? Unheard of, shocking affair ! Nature recoils at the very thought ! How then can the best of fathers perform the deed f How shall he answer it to the wife of his bosom, the mother of the lovely youth ? How can he justify it to the world ? They will never be persuaded that the God of goodness can delight in cruelty, or au- thorize so horrid an action. Will they not take up a taunting proverb, and say at every turn, " There goes the man, the monster rather, that has imbrued his hands in his own son's blood ! This is he that pretends to piety, and yet could be so sav- age as to assassinate, coolly and deliberately assassinate an only child!" — Might not thousands of such reflections crowd into his thoughts, and rack his very soul ? But God is unchangeable. Positive is his word, and must be obeyed ; obeyed immediately too. Take now thy son. The Lord's commandment requireth speed. No time is to be lost in bidding adieu to his relations, or in fruitless supplications for re- voking the doom. Nay, cheerfully, as well as instantly, must this command be fulfill- ed. The great Jehovah expects alacrity in his service Prodigious trial indeed ! Yet not too great for a faith which the divine Spirit infuses and the divine Spirit sus- tains. The patriarch knew full well that obedi- ence is no obedience, unless it be willing and cheerful. Therefore he consults not with flesh and blood. He is deaf to the art;uings of carnal reason, and regards not the yearnings of paternal affection. With- out a murmuring word, without a moment's delay,* he sets forward on his journey ; not so much as betraying the least uneasiness, to alarm his wife ; nor heaving the least sigh, to surprise his attendants. Anl canst thou, Abraham, canst thou persist in thy purpose ? can thy heart firmly resolve, can thy hand steadily execute, this inex- pressibly severe task? Most triumphant faith indeed ! Deservedly ait thou styled " the father of the faithful !" Rom. iv. 18. Thy faith is stronger than all the ties of affection ; stronger than all the pleas of na- ture, or all the terrors of death, — even of a death far more dreadful than thy own. And now must he travel during three tedious, and one would think, most melan- choly days, with his Isaac constantly before his eyes; with the bloody scene continually in his apprehensions ; and nothing to di. vert his mind from dwelling on every bitter circumstance, and all the grievous conse- quences. " On the third day, Abraham lifted up his eyes and beheld afar off the appointed place. His servants are ordered to keep their distance ; while himself, with the fire and the knife in his hands ; and his son, with the burden of wood on his shoul- ders, " went both of them together." Who does not pity the sweet youth, toiling under that load which must soon reek with his blood, and soon reduce him to ashes ? Meanwhile the intended victim, wondering to see all those preparations made, and no proper animal near, asks this pertinent question, " My father, behold the fire and the wood ; but where is the lamb for a burnt oflfering?" Sure, this endearing speech, which discovered such a knowledge of religion, and such a concern for its duties, must rouse the father's anguish, and shake his determination. How can he be the death of so much innocence, and so much piety ? l-'aith overcomes all difficulties. Un- moved, and inflexible, the patriarch replies, " God will provide himself a lamb for a burnt-offering, my soii."f After this he discloses the strange, the startling secret : " Thou thyself, my dear child, are destined to this purpose. The God who bestowed thee on my longing desires is pleased to re- quire thee again at my hand. The Lord • For it is written. He rose early in the morning, ver. ;). t Abraham, in this answer, like many of the other prophets in their predictions, seems not to have tho- roughly understood the import of his own words. What he himself meant, I apprehend, is represented in the paraphrase of his speech. Yet God so over- ruled his tongue, that it more fully expressed the di- vine decree, than the paternal idea. "God will provide himselfalamb for a burnt-offering, my son." Thus the words are placed in the Hebrew. : My son comes last, and closes the reply ; that the ten- der accents may be left to vibrate on the father's ear, and the dear distressing image continue playing be- fore his mind. This, 1 think, is a delicacy not to \>e overlooked, and increases the pathos of the narra- ti\^. 404 THERON AND ASPASIO gavCj and the Lord taketh away, let us both adore the name of the Lord. Let us con- fide in his promised goodness, and unani- mously profess, " Though he slay me, yet wU 1 trust in him." It does not appear that the amiable youth resisted or gainsaid. He had strength to oppose, and speed enough to escape,* the attempts of an aged father. Either or both of which, the law of self- preservation might seem to dictate, and the light of reason to justify. But Isaac knew that his father was a j)rophet. In this pro- phetical character, he sees and acknowledges the warrant of heaven. And since his Creator calls, he is content to go. Excel- lent Isaac ! who does not admire thy courage? who is not charmed with thy resignation ? and must we, in a few minutes, must we see thee a pale, a bloody, a breathless corpse ? Methinks, I shudder as we draw near the direful c-atastrophe. The altar is built ; the wood laid in order ; all things are ready for the solemn service ; and Isaac offers his willing throat to the knife. Nevertheless, that the work of destiny may be sure, and no one particular relating to a sacrifice omit- ted, "Abraham binds his son." I have known a stubborn malefactor quite unalarm- ed when sentenced to the ignominious tree ; not at all impressed with the most awful re- presentations of eternal judgment; yet, when a person came to measure him for his coifin, the hardened wretch was hard no longer. He started, turned pale, and trembled in every joint. Even such a circumstance makes no impression on Abraham ; neither alters his purpose, nor changes his counte- nance. He measures his Isaac ; measures those limbs, which he had so frequently and so tenderly caressed ; and if not for the coffin, yet for immediate slaughter. Having bound him — surprising resolu- tion ! — bound him for the sword and for the flame, he " lays him upon the altar, on the wood." There now lies Isaac; the dear, the dutiful, the religious Isaac ! Abraham's joy ; Sarah's delight ; the heir of the pro- mises ! there he lies, all meek and resigned ; expecting every moment the stroke of death to fall. O parents ! parents ! do not your bowels yearn? is not humanity itself dis- tressed at the scene ? Say, thou who art a father, what tliinkest thou of Abraham's obedience ? couldst thou, to such a son, have acted such a part ? See ! the father, resolute to the very last, unsheathes the murdering blade ; makes bare the innocent bosom ; and marks the place where life may find the speediest exit. " His heart is fixed !" he stretches his ann, and now, even now is aiming the mor- tal blow ; when, — rejoice, ye worshippers of a gracious God ! break forth into singing, ye that are in pain for the tried parent ! the Lord Almighty interposes in this article of extreme need.* The Angel of the cove- nant speaks from heaven, and withholds the lifted hand, in the very act to strike. God, who only intended to manifest his faith, and make it honourable, bids him desist. God applauds his obedience ; substitutes another sacrifice in Isaac's stead ; renews his covenant with the father ; and not only reprieves the life of the son, but promises him a numerous and illustrious issue ; pro- mises to make him the progenitor of the Messiah, and thereby a public blessing to all the nations of the earth. Tell me now, Theron, was there ever such anastonishing effort of obedience? such a perfect prodigy of resignation ? " Yet this hath faith done, "i* If you should ask, how was it possible for Abraham to perform all this, in the manner described ? The answer is obvious : Because Abraham believed : or, in other words, was fully persuaded, that the God who had given him this son from the barren womb, was able to raise him again from the smoking ashes. | As the same God who required this sacrifice, had ex- pressly declared, " In Isaac shall thy seed * AccordingtoJosephus, Isaac was, when he snbmit- ted himself to the slaughter, about twenty-five years old. Others think his age was thirty-three, which wakes him more exactly resemble his suftering Lord. Then his fatjier must be above a hundred and thirty yearf old. Either account will justify Aspasio's sup- position. J J 1 I • Upon this most seasonable interposition, the in- spired historian makes a very judicious and edifying remark, which seems to be greatly obscured, if not en- tirely spoiled, by our translation: " In the mount of the Lord it shall be seen." I must comess, I have always been puzzled to findj not only a pertinent sense, but any sense at all, in these words. Whereas the original is as clear in its signification, as it is apposite to the purpose. "In the mount, the Lord will be seen:" or, "In the mount, the Lord will provide." q. d. " This memorable event gave rise to, at least is an emi- nent exemplification, of that proverbial expression, which is commonly used at this day. In the mount of difficulty, or in the very crisis of need, when matters seem to be irretrievable and desperate, then the Lord appears as a present help. Man's extremity is God's opiwrtunity." See Gen. xxii. 14. t Heb. XI. 17. " By faith, Abraham, when he was tried, offered up his son Isaac." The faith of which such glorious things are spoken, to which such ad- mirableachieveraentsareascribed, through this whole chapter, was a faith in the " seed of the woman," the promised Messiah. Or, could it be demonstrated, (which, I will venture to conclude, is impossible,) that, in all these heroic instances of obedience, ihere was no believing regard to Christ ; no apprehension of his unspeakable love; no application of his trans- cendent merits ! our argument would not lose its force, but strike with redoubled energy. For, if a belief in very inferior manifestations of the divine goodness, faithfulness aud power, wrought so efficaci- ously on those ancient worthies; how much more victoriously must the same principle act, under far brighter displays of all the supreme perfections, in the person of Jesus Christ ! I would only add, that so long as this chapter remains in the Bible, it will fur- nish an unanswerable confutation of those objections, which suppose the doctrine of faith to have an un- kindly influence on religious or virtuous practice. Against all such cavils, it will stand fast fo' evermore as the moon, and as the faithful witness in heaven. • % He seems to have expected not only the certain, but the immediate restoration of his slain son ; that he should be revived on the very spot, before he left the place, so as to accompany his retuni. For hesays to his servants. Not I, but wc will go, and >vorship, and return, ver. 5. LETTER Xn. 406 be called," the patriarch doubted not but the promise would, in a way known to in- finite wisdom, be punctually accomplished. Hence he made no dispute, and felt no re- luctance. His faith banished every uneasy apprehension ; and neither fear nor sorrow had place in his breast. By faith he was enabled, speedily and cheerfully, without so much as a parting tear,* to obey this un- paralleled precept. And if all this, which would otherwise have been utterly impracticable, was wrought by faith, you need not suspect of weakness and insufficiency so approved a principle. Far from enervating, it will invigorate every good disposition ; and instead of damping, will give life to every religious duty. Cher- ish faith, and you will of course cultivate obedience. Water this root, and the branches of universal godliness will assur- edly partake the beneficial effects ; will spread their honours, and bring forth their fruits. Through the power of faith, the saints have wrought righteousness in all its magnanimous and heroic acts. The doc- trine of faith is called by St. Paul " a doc- trine according to godliness," 1 Tim. vi. 3, exquisitely contrived to answer all the ends, and secure every interest of real piety. The grace of faith St. Jude styles '' our most holy faith," Jude ver. 20, intimating, that it is not only productive of holiness, but that the most refined and exalted holiness arises from this stock. Let us then be diligent to exercise, and careful to increase, faith in Jesus Christ. Let us maintain the same zealous solicitude * This account is so very extraordinary, that I shall not be surprised if the reader finds some diffi- culty in giving his assent to it; especially, as he may have accustometl himself to forni very different con- ceptions of this remarkable affair; arid may possibly be confirmed in a different train of ideas, by seeing a representation of the stor>' in a celebrated pnnt, where the father appears clasping his son in a tender em- brace ; bedewing him witli tears, and suffering as much through grief, as (he devoted youth is going to suffer by the knife. But the engraver, I apprehend, had not so attentively examined the circumstances of the sacred narrative, not so carefully compared them with other passages of scripture, as a judicious and worthy friend of mine ; from whom I learned to con- sider this wonderful transaction in the above-repre- sented view. And I must confess, the more I revolve it in my mind, the more I am convinced of its pro- priety. I flatter myself, the reader will be of the same opi- nion, if he pleases to consult the tenth chapter of Le- viticus, where Nadab and Abihu, the sons of Aaron, are devoured by fire from before the Lord. Yet Aaron is not allowed to mourn, even at such a terri- ble and afflictive visitation. And when, through the frailty of human nature, he could not wholly refrain, he durst not presume to eat of the sin-offering. ■' Such things," says he, " have befallen me ; if I had eaten of the sin-offiering, should it have been accepted in the sight of the Lord ?" Let me add, that we find not the least indication of such agonizing sorrow, nor indeed of any sorrow at all, in the history as related by Mo- ses. Neither could Abraham have been a proper type of the eternal Father, making his only begotten Son a sacrifice for sin, if he had not wiUingly offered up Isaac Indeed to offer wiUingly, seems to have Ijeen absolutely necessary, in every acceptable obla- tion, and every religious service. See 2 Cor. ix. 7; 1 Cliron. xxviii. i). for this leading capital grace, as the renown- ed Epaminondas expressed for his shield. When that gallant general was, in an en- gagement with the enemy, struck to the ground ; his soldiers carried him off, breath- less and fainting, to his tent. The very mo- ment he opened his eyes, and recovered the use of speech, he asked — not whether his wound was mortal, not whether his troops were routed, but whether his shield was safe ? — May we be enabled, my dear friend, to keep our shield safe ! May we be strong, be steady, be lively in faith ! Then I doubt not we shall give gloiy to God, receive com- fort to ourselves, and abound in the works of the Lord. Nothing can be more pertinent to my purpose than the apostle's prayer, " That we may know what is the hope of our call- ing in Christ Jesus, and what is the exceed- ing greatness of his power to themward who believe." And nothing can be more expres- sive of the very soul of your affectionate ASPASXO. LETTER XIL AsPASio TO Thebon. Dear Theuon, — It is very probable while I am reading yours, you are perusing mine. But how unlike is my friend to the repre- sentation he receives ! How unlike the sa- tisfied, unsuspecting, cheerful Abraham ! WTiy this dejected air in your temper ? Why those pensive strokes in your letter ? Let me anticipate your reply, and make answer to myself. This gloom, I trust, is a sign of approaching day. Just before the morn- ing dawn, the nocturnal darkness is black- est : And just before the appearance of the Sun of Righteousness, the penitent's dis- tress is frequently the deepest I promise myself the hour is at hand which will " put off your sackcloth, and gird you with gladness." Another favourable presage is, that you take the direct and certain way to obtain substantial comfort. The righteousness of our Lord Jesus Christ, after which you in- quire, about which you are solicitous, is a never failing spnng of consolation: because it acquits from all sin ; secures from all condemnation , and renders the believer unblamable and unreprovable in the sight of God. There, fore says the holy Ghost, " His name is as ointment poiu-ed forth," Cant. i. 3 ; even that divinely-precious name, by which he has been celebrated in the preceding epistles; by which he is distinguished in the scrip- tures of truth ; by which, I hope, he will be more and more revealed in my Theron'a mind,—" The Lord our righteousness." 406 THERON AND ASPASIO. The discovery of him under this most ami- I able and glorious capacity, will indeed be like breaking open a vial of the richest un- guents ; which not only fill the room, and regale the sense with their delightful fra- grance, but refresh the spirits, and " rejoice the veiy heart." Might my writing, or my discourse, be as the alabaster box, to eon- tain, to convey, and present these reviving odours ; how highly should I think myself honoured, and how signally my endeavours blessed ! You ask, " How 'this righteousness of che divine Redeemer becomes ours ?" It is a question which I receive with the utmost pleasure ; and, with equal pleasure, shall at tempt an answer. Or rather, as the Spirit of our God prompted the first, may the same unerring Guide suggest the last ! This he has abundantly done by his prophets and apostles; so that I need only have recourse to their writings, and collect some] of the hints which lie treasured up in those store- houses of wisdom. There we are often to d of union with Christ. Believers are said to be "in Christ," Col. i. 2 ; and to be " one with Christ," Heb. ii. 11- What is still higher, and im- plies a greater degree of nearness, they are " members of his body, of his flesh, and of his bones," Eph. v. 30. And, which de- notes the most intimate connexion imagin- able," They that are joined to the Lord Jesus, are one Spirit, I Cor. vi. 17, with him ! As these expressions appear dark, and their sense lies deep, it has pleased our all-con- descending Instructor to illustrate them by a variety of significant types and lively si- militudes. This remark very opportunely reminds me of an engagement which, some time ago, I undertook to execute, but have hitherto omitted — to make it evident that the blessed doctiine for which we have been pleading, " is deducible from several scrip- ture images." A short descant upon some of the principal, will, I hope, at once dis- charge my former obligation, and satisfy your present inquiry. This was shadowed forth by the costly, odoriferous, flowing unguent, poured upon Aaron's head ; " which ran down upon his beard, and descended to the skirts" of his clothing." Psalm cxxxiii. 2. So the merits of our great High Priest are derived down to all the faithful ; even those of the mean- est station in life, and the lowest attain- ments in religion. Was it not typified by that instructive vision which the prophet Zechariah saw ? " I have looked, and behold ! a candlestick all of gold, with a bowl upon the top of it. • What we render skirt.i, is, in the original, the nwtith, or, as the word is translated. Job xxx. 10, (he toUar of his garments. and his seven lamps thereon, and seven pipes to the seven lamps, which were upon the top thereof; and two olive-trees by it, one upon the light side of the bowl, and the other upon the left side thereof; which, through two golden pipes, empty the golden oil out of themselves." Zech. iv. 2, 3, 12. The bowl and the lamps were a proper em- blem of believers who are, by nature, dry vessels, and destitute of all good ; yet should shine as lights in the midst of a crooked and perverse generation. The olive-trees, arrayed in verdure, and aboimding with sap ; always emptying themselves, yet ever full ; are a very just representation of ("hrist, of his unchangeable love, and his inexhaustible grace. The golden pipes, through which the olive branches transmit their oil, seem to be figurative of faith, in its various and repeated actings. By these channels of conveyance, the unspeakable benefits of a Redeemer are communicated to our souls, and replenish those empty basins. Another type the apostle mentions : " The first Adam," he says, "was a figure of him that was to come." Rom. v. 14. So eminent a figure, and corresponding in so many instances, that he styles our " Lord Jesus the last Adam." 1 Cor. xv. 45. And why ? Because, like the first, he was a co- venant head to his people, and transacted in their stead. Insomuch that what he did, and what he suflfered, both are placed to their account. Is Adam's sin imputed to all his natural offspring? So is Christ's righteousness to all his spiritual seed. The consequences of both render the doctiine more intelligible, and the truth more unde- niable. All men are "judged, condemned, dead," Rom. v. 15, 16, doomed inevitably to the death of the body, and justly liable to the death of the soul, on the score of Adam's transgression. All believers are " acquitted, justified, saved ;" Rom. v. 19, 21, saved from the first death, and made heirs of the resurrection ; saved from the second death, and entitled to life eternal, by virtue of Christ's obedience. This union with Christ was not only pre- figured by types, but is displayed by a va- riety of similitudes taken from the most fa- miliar occurrences of life ; by which it ap- pears to be our divine Master's will, that we should live under the habitual belief of this momentous truth, and in the constant enjoyment of this distinguished privilege You cannot visit a friend, or view your children ; you cannot enter your garden, discourse with your spouse, or contemplate your own body, without a representation and a remembrancer of this precious blessing. Christ says to his disciples, " Henceforth I call you not servants, but friends." John XV. 15. Friends are a second self. St. Paul, speaking of Oiiesinnis, uses this re- LETTER XII. 407 ftiaikable phrase. " Receive liim as my- self," and, which is still more em])hatical, " Receive him, that is mine own bowels." Philem. 12, 17. Is not Christ's friendship of the most tender and exalted kind ? Doubt- less it must be equal, doubtless it must be superior to Jonathan's — Jonathan loved David as his own soul : But Christ loved sinners with a love stronger than death. They were dearer to him than his own in- estimable life Jonathan exposed himself to imminent danger, in vindicating David's conduct. Jesus surrendered himself to cer- tain death in making reconciliation for our offences. — Jonathan interceded once and agiiin with his father in David's behalf. Christ ever liveth, to plead his blood, and make intercession for transgressors. " Jo- nathan stripped himself of the robe that was upon him to give it to David, and his garment, even to his sword, and his bow, and his girdle." I Sam. xviii. 4. Our Re- deemer, without stripping himself, has cloth- ed us (such is the prerogative of a divine person !) with the robe of his righteousness, and with the garment of his salvation. He has consigned over to us all the merit of his holy life and propitiatory death. Christ stands related to his people, not as a friend only, but as a parent. He is called by a prophet, " The everlasting Fa- ther," Isa- 6. 9 ; and we are said by an a|)ostle to he his "children," Heb. ii. 13. Children look upon themselves as interest- ed in the wealth of their parents. They expect, and not without reasonable ground, to reap benefit from it while the parents live, and to become possessors of it, when they die. Accordingly, the father says in the gospel, " Son, all that I have is thine," Luke XV. 31. Since the high and holy Emmanuel vouchsafes to be our Father, can we suppose liim less generous than an earth- ly parent? or can we imagine that his children shall have less to hope than the heirs of an earthly progenitor ? May we not, ought we not, to regard all his communicable goods, all the benefits resulting from his merito- rious sufferings and perfect obedience, as our portion ? Especially since he is the testator also, Heb- ix. 17 ; has bequeathed them to us by will, and having submitted to death, they become legally ours. " I am the Vine," says our Lord, " ye are the branches," John xv. 5. They who be- lieve, are ingrafted into Christ. Take no- tice of a cyon. What are the consequences of its iiigrdftiu'e ? It is embodied with the substance of the tree, and partakes of its fatness. The sap, imbibed by the root, circulates into it, gives it vegetable life, tills it with buds, decks it with blossoms, and loads it with fruit. If then we are one with Christ, as much as the branch is one with the stock, it must follow, even upon the princi [ill's of common experience, that his wisdom is ours, to enlighten us ; his righteousness is ours, to justify us ; his Spirit is ours, to sanctify us ; his redemp- tion is ours, to make us completely and eternally happy. Christ is united to his people by a tie closer and dearer than the parental. They are not only his children, but his spouse. He is often called their bridegroom, and is not ashamed to avow the tender engage- ment; " I will betroth thee unto me for ever. Yea, I will betroth thee unto me in righte- ousness, and in judgment, and in loving- kindness, and in mercies. I will even be- troth thee unto me in faithfulness," Hos. ii. 19, 20. The condescending God multi- plies, diversifies, accumulates his words ; and this with admirable propriety, as well as surpassing goodness. The honour is so high, and the favour so great, we should hardly know how to believe it, and hardly venture to apply it. Lest, therefore, by a single expression, it should not be sufficient- ly established, it stands ratified by repeated asseverations, and with all the energy of language ; so that, be the grace ever so as- tonishing, we are assured the fact is equally certain, he that is our Maker, is all our Husband. Isa. liv. 5. Let us consider what follows upon such an imion. We may take for an example the case of Boaz and Ruth. Soon as their nuptials were solemnized, she that was poor became rich ; from a gleaner in the field she commenced mistress of the harvest ; and from abiding by the maidens had a seat at the master's table. And if we are united to Christ by a marriage-contract, the same effects will take place. We that were poor, are rich in him ; we who had nothing, pos- sess all things in Christ ; we that dwell in dust, are made to sit together with our di- vine Husband in heavenly places, Eph. ii. 6. If you choose some modem exemplifica- tion, what can be more pertinent than the remarkable instance of your neighbour Ari- etta ? She was lately left a widow, by the dissolute and extravagant Bellario ; her cir- cumstances miserably embarrassed, and the little estate deeply mortgaged ; her friends looked shy, and her creditors became clam- orous ; scarce a day passed, but it made some new discoveiy of debts contracted l)y the deceased ; so that the affairs of the sur- vivor appeared with a more melancholy as- pect, and in a less retrievable condition. But having won, first the compassion, then the affection, of the wealthy and illustrious Philander, how happily is the face of things altered ! All her debts devolve upon him, and all his dignity is derived to her." He « The demands of the law are perfect obedieiKe i 408 THERON AND ASPA6I0. Btands renponsible for whatever she owes ; and she is a sharer in whatever he possesses. Though little less than ruined by her late husband, she is more than restored by her present; and has reason to rejoice in his affluence, and to glory in his honours. Have not we also reason to rejoice in our heavenly Bridegroom — since a far more glorious ex- change subsists between him and his mysti- cal spouse ? He has bore the curse, that we may inherit the blessing. Sin was charged on him, that righteousness might be imput- ed to us. In a word, he has sustained all our miseries, that he might impart to us all his benefits. Has the law any demand ? It must go to him for satisfaction. Have we any wants ? We may look to him for a supply ; to him, Theron, " in whom it has pleased the Father that all fulness should dwell." Col. i. 19. If any thing can express an union more intimate and inseparable than the conjugal, it is that of the members with the head. And this image is used by the Holy Ghost, to shadow forth the connexion between Christ and the faithful. He is the " head over all things," with respect to rule and su- premacy, but a head of imion and influence, with respect " to the Church." Eph. i. '22- The head and the members constitute one natural, Christ and his church compose one mystical body. What kindness is done, what injury is offered to the mem- bers, the head regards them as done to itself. Accordingly, Christ says to the outrageous Saul, who made havoc of the church, " Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou me ?" Acts ix. 4. He declares, concerning those indigent Christians to whose necessi- ties we administer relief ; " Inasmuch as ye have done it unto them, ye have done it unto me." Matth. xxv. 40. The animal spirits formed in the head, are formed for the be- nefit of the whole body, and designed for the use of all the members. So the righte- ousness wrought by Jesus Christ, is wrought out for his whole mystical body, and intend- ed for the advantage of all his people ; to be the cause of their justification, and the purchase of their salvation. Being then so nearly related, so closely united to the blessed Jesus, it is no wonder that believers are now loved with the same fatherly love, and will hereafter be partakers of the same heavenly glory. What might we not expect from the divine Redeemer, if he vouchsafed to acknowledge but one of those endearing names ? Since he has en- gaged himself to us by all the ties of affinity and affection, may we not promise ourselves, Thou shall love the Lord thy God with, all thy heart. To which, in case of disobediepce, is superadded con dign punishment, " Cursed is he that coutiuucth no. in Jill things." and with the assurance of hope, every good thing; " even all the fulness of God," Eph. iii. 19, our Saviour? Does not each of these tender relations, subsisting between Christ and his saints, imply an entire pro- perty in one another, and a mutual partici- pation of all that belongs to either ? — " My beloved is mine, and I am his, — I dare not say, is the posy of the mystical ring ; but it is the imdoubted effect of this divine union. How pleasing, yet how amazing the thought ! Shall we, who say to corruption, " Thou art my Father ;" and to the worm, " Thou art my mother and my sister," Job xvii. 14, shall we be permitted to say, con- cerning the Head of all principality and power, " We are members of his body, of his flesh, and of his bones ?'' Eph. v. 30. What a mercy might we esteem it, not to be confounded before a Majesty so exalted and sublime ! What a favour, to obtain the least propitious regard from the King im- mortal and invisible ! What an honour, to be admitted into his family, and numbered among the meanest of his servants ! But to be his adopted children ; to be his es- poused bride ; to be the members of his sacred body ; to have him for our everlast- ing Father, ,him for the bridegroom of our souls, him for our heavenly head, who is the Maker of all worlds, and the Sovereign of all creatures ! What words can duly cele- brate, what heart can sufficiently admire, the condescension and the love of our ador- able Jesus ? or who can justly question the fruits of such a fellowship, and the conse- quences of such an union ? Question them ! No, the fruits are infallibly sure, as the pri- vilege is inexpressibly gi'eat. Let me once again introduce a great and venerable witness of both these truths : " Laban spake high, when he said, * These children are mine, and all these things thou seest are mine." But how high and glori- ous is that which may be said of a justified person : All thou hearest of Christ is thine ; his life is thine, his death is thine, his obe- dience, merit, spirit, all thine !"* Rich and important words ! than which nothing can give us a juster or fuller explanation of the apostle's assertion, " We are partakers of Christ." Heb. iii. 14. When some foreign ladies, of the first quality, paid a visit to Leonidas' queen, the talk turned upon their rich clothes, their costly jewels, and splendid equipage. After they had severally displayed each her own grandeur, they inquired after her majesty's finery — what she had to distinguish her from the vulgar ? She replied, " My illus- trious husband." What else ? " My illus- trious husband." And as often as they re- * ice Dr. Li«htfoofs WorUs, vol. ii. y. ur;7. DIALOGUE XV. 409 peated the same question, she returned the same answer. Could this queen speak in huch admiring, rejoicing, seif-gratulating terms of her royal consort? And shall not vile sinners look upon their Redeemer — that all-glorious, yet all-condescending bride- gioom ; who is full of grace and truth, full of merit and righteousness — shall not they much more look upon him as their honour and their joy; the object of their depend- ence, and the cause of their boasting ? I should find' it difficult to refrain from the farther prosecution of so engaging a to- pic, did I not propose to wait upon my Theron very speedily. Then I shall have an opportunityof pouring into his bosom all the fulness of my heart, with regard to this delightful subject. In the mean time, let me exhort my dear friend to be of good com- fort. " Heaviness may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning," Psalm xxx. 5. This sorrow of which you complain, may be the seed of spiritual and eternal consola- tion. While I am writing, there appears full in my view one of the finest rainbows I ever beheld. It compasseth the heavens with a glorious circle ; so glorious that it is no dis- paragement of the almighty Creator to say, " the hands of the Most High have bended it." Ecclus. xliii. 12. On what foundation would I ask is that stately and beautiful arch raised ? From what source do all its ra- diant and lovely colours spring ! It is raised on a gloomy assemblage of vapours ; and all its rich tinctiu-es spring from a louring cloud. Thus does the blessed God, on a conviction of guilt and a sense of ruin, spread faith, plant holiness, and diffuse gladness. May all these, ere long, arise in my Theron's breast ! and each be bright as that resplen- dent bow ; lasting as the sun that creates it! In the mean time, it is the ardent wish of my soul, and shall be my frequent prayer to God," That bothour hearts maybe comfort- ed, being knit together in love, unto all riches of the full assurance of understanding," Col. ii. 1, in this great mystery of godliness. AVhat vigour of expression, what exuberance of ideas ; and, above all, what distinguished privileges are here? — Assurance — full assur- ance— riches of the full assurance — all rich- es of the full assurance of understanding" — in reference to our union with Chiist, and its unutterably-precious effects ! Can the orator express more ? Can the sinner de- sire more? Can the saint, I had almost Sciid, can the archangel enjoy more ? — May this be the portion of my dear Theron, and of His ever faithful AsPASio. DIALOGUES. DIALOGUE XV. AsPASio had taken leave of his friend Camillus, and was come to revisit Theron, whose thoughts seemed to be in a state of much fluctuation, and no small anxiety, hop- ing that some proper conversation on the grace and privileges of the everlasting gos- pel might compose and comfort his mind, might, while his heart was softened by humbling convictions, fix the stamp of ge- nuine Christianity, and deliver his whole soul into the mould* of evangelical reli- gion. * Deliver into the Mould. — This is the literal trans- lation, and exact sense of St. Paul's phrase, Eif ov Vagt^uinrt Tuxov ^i^ax,i;, Rom.vi. 17,which, as it contains a beautiful allusion, conveys also a very in- structive admonition ; intimating, that our minds, all pliant and ductile, should be conformed to the re- fined precepts of the gospel, as liquid metals take the fif;tire of some elegant mould into which IheT,- are cast. When sorrows wound the breast, as ploughs the glebe. And hearts obdurate feel her soft'nmg shower. Her seed celestial then glad Wisdom sows; Her golden harvests triumph in the soul. i^ight Thoughts. He arrived pretty late in the evening, and, being somewhat wearied with thejoiu*. ney, soon withdrew to his repose. The next morning, as Theron walked abroad to taste the cool delights of the dawn, he was agreeably surprised by meeting Aspasio. Ther. So soon awake, my worthy friend and after so much fatigue on the preceding day ! I had not the least expectation of yoiu' company till breakfast. Then, indeed, I promised myself a double regale ; the re- freshments exhibited on the table, and those "wholesome words of our Lord Jesus Christ," 1 Tim. vi. 3, which, more preci- ous than manna, drop — Asp. How, Theron ! Have you also learn- ed those soothing arts, which polish the 410 THERON AND ASPASIO. spcccli, to dt'i)rave our sentiments ! Could I I beg pardon for my pleasantry. Since 1 have suspected the enchanting wiles of you are so very serious, a gay air was quite flattery, from my sincere, my tried, my bo- som friend ? Tlier. Your friend is still sincere, and his words are very remote from flattery. — How welcome to the wind-bound mariner, weary with expectation, and sick with disap- pointments, is the visit of a propitious gale ? How welcome to the fields, parched with drought and gasping for moisture, are copious showers of rain ! How acceptable to the Is- raelites, travelling through the inhospitable desert, and pining away for want of the fruits of the earth, was the miraculous supply of heavenly bread! Yet neither propi- tious gales to the wind-bound mariner, nor copious showers to the thirsty soil, nor heavenly bread to the famished Israelites, could be more welcome than your late con- versation, and later correspondence, to my anxious soul. Asp. Why, I thought you looked upon my notions as chimerical. Is Theron also become credulous ? Like one of us weak- headed believers, has he quitted the strong- holds of reason ? is he vanquished by the slingstone of faith ? or can he submit to this strange method of salvation, by embracing the righteousness and relying on the obe- dience of another ? Ther. I find my reason was a feeble guide, or I myself not faithful to its genuine dictates. I was blinded with prejudice; I was intoxicated with pride ; a vain conceit of my moral powers betrayed me, as I fear it has betrayed many, into a contempt of the evangelical righteousness. I held what I thought an honour to human nature. I now retract my opinion : I now perceive, that as my natural light could not discover the way, neither can my personal obedience put me in possession of life and salvation. My true glory, and real happiness, I would henceforth derive from the blessed Jesus. No more banter, Aspasio : — have done : I am serious, and very much in earnest ; so much in earnest, that if all my acquaintance of the Pharisaical turn, or if all my bro- thers of the smile, should rally me on the subject, I would frankly acknowledge my error, and as freely sign my recantation. Asp. My dear Theron, I applaud your re- solution. You have no more cause to be ashamed of such a practice, than Philip had to be ashamed of the imperfection in his limbs; when, being observed to go lame with a wound received in battle, he had this consolation suggested by one of unseasonable. You cannot often complain that I am guilty of this fault. Nor can you easily imagine the satisfaction I shall en- joy, if either my letters or my discourse have administered any advantage to my friend. I shall note it down among the distinguish- ed blessings of my life ; and have an addi- tional obligation to love the beneficent au- thor of all good. But as I cannot be a furtherer of your happiness without the greatest delight, so I cannot be a witness of your solicitude with- out a painful regret. You must therefore permit me to ask the cause of that unusual vehemence which I observe in your speech, and of that deep concern which I read in your countenance. Thcr. I have been 'considering very at- tentively, what is the present state, and what is likely to be the final condition of my soul. -^-^ My hopes and fears Start up alami'd; and o'er life's narrow verge Look down — on what? A fathomless abyss. A \ast eternity ! My sins, at the same time, like an armed host, are set in dreadfid array, and surround me on every side. Justice, like an injured and incensed foe, unsheathes the sword, and makes a loud demand for vengeance. No righteotisness of my own presents itself, to which I may fly for refuge. The method of salvation, in which I formerly confided, is a bridge broken down ; and leaves me, without any possibility of escape, abandon- ed to the approaching enemy. To a person in such deplorable circum- stances, how reviving, how delightful, is the very thought of being interested in the great Redeemer's righteousness ! I do not wonder now at a saying of Luther's, which I have sometimes exploded as strangely extrava- gant : " That, upon the discovery of this glorious righteousness, the gates of Paradise seemed to fly open before him, and the dawn of heaven was all in view.'' Talking in this manner, they came to an elevated terrace ; which, about an hour be- fore, had been shaved by the scythe, and emitted all the freshness of new-mown herbage. On one side, a fine champaign country stretched its wide dimensions ; on the other, a flower-garden exhibited the last oniaments of the year. Here you might still see the tufted vermillion, and the full- blown ivoi-y, glittering through spangles of liquid crystal. There you might trace the footsteps of the early cattle, by many a re- his courtiers : " Never blush, my Royal Sir, j cent print on the dewy lawn. On the for a defect which puts you in mind of your walls and espaliers autumn had spread her valour every step you take." To sacrifice stores, and was beginning to beautify their our prejudices in the search of truth, is no rinds with many a ruddy streak, or to less honourable than to be marked with a breathe over their glossy skins her delicate soar in the defence of our couiiti'y. | and inimitable bloom. DIALOGUE XV. 411 Asp. See, said Aspasio, the wisdom and benignity which, in amiable and inseparable conjunction, display themselves through the whole economy of the universe : " CJod has made every thing beautiful in his time," Eccl. iii. 11, every thing serviceable in its place. A little while ago, the flowery meads delighted our eyes, and the melodi- ous birds charmed our ears ; now, the tasteful fruits are preparing their dainties, and presenting us with a collation to regale our palate. The whole earth, and all the seasons, are rich with our Creator's good- ness. Yea, the whole earth, and all that replenishes it, all that surrounds it, are full of his presence. He it is who Warms in the sun, refreshes in the breeze, CJIows in the stars, and blossoms in the trees ; Lives through all life, extends through all extent, Spreads undivided, operates unspent.* An habitual belief of this truth gives na- ture her loveliest aspect, and lends her the most consummate power to please. The breath of violets, and the blush of roses ; the music of the woods, and the meanders of the stream ; the aspiring hill, the ex- tended plain, and all the decorations of the landscape, then api)ear in their highest at- tractives, then touch the soul with the most refined satisfaction, when God is seen, when God is heard, and God enjoyed in all. Is Theron lost in thought, and de- prived of speech ? Is he alone silent while all things speak their Maker's praise? Does faith throw a shade over the works of creation? Does it not heighten their beauties and enliven their gnices ? The religious is the only true philosopher ; and the pleasures of imagination never acquire their proper relish, till they are ripened by the exercise of devotion. With this view then, since my friend forbears, let me at- tempt to speak ; not to increase his know- ledge, but to cherish faith, and cidtivate devotion in us both. The spacious canopyf over our heads, is j)ainted with blue ; and the ample carpet under our feet, is tinged with green. These colours, by their soft and cheering qualities, yield a perpetual refreshment to the eye:^ whereas, had the face of nature glistered with white, or glowed with scarlet, such * Pope's Ethic. Epist. + What Aspasio calls the canopy, Isaiah describes p*lS) which we translate "as a curtain;" but the exact signification is, " Sicut tenue, vel tenuissimum quid;" " Like some finely attenuated expanse." Not like the curtains of the covering of the tabernacle, which were goats' hair and baggers' skins, shaggy and coarse; but like some very fine membrane, smooth and elegant, nicely polished, and inimitably delicate. Than which comparison nothing can more perfectly correspond with the aspect of the sky. t Gay green. Thou smiling nature's universal robe ! United light and shade ! where the sight dwells, With growing strength, and ever new delight. TliomtMi'3 Spriti/;;, ardent and dazzling hues would, instead of exhilarating, have fatigued the sight. Be- sides, as the several brighter colours are in- terspersed, and form the pictures in this magnificent piece ; the green and the blue constitute an admirable ground, which shows them all in their highest lustre, and to the utmost advantage." Had the air been considerably grosser, it would have dimmed the rays of the sun, and darkened the cheerful day ; our lungs had been clogged in their vital functions ; men had been suffocated, without the strangling noose ; or drowned, without the overwhelming flood. Was it several de- grees more subtle, birds would not be able to wing their way through the firmament ; nor could the clouds be sustained in so at- tenuated an atmosphere. It would elude the organs of respiration ; we should gasp for breath, with as much diflicidty, and with as little success, as fishes out of their na- tive element. The ground also is wrought into the most proper temperature. Was it of a firmer con- sistence, it would be impenetrable to the plough, and unmanageable by the spade. Was it of a laxer composition, it would be incapable of supporting its own furniture. The light mould would be swept away by the whirling winds ; or the oozy glebe soaked into sloughs by the descending rains. Because eveiy situation suits not every plant, but that which is a nurse to one often proves a stepmother to others ; therefore the qualities of the earth are so abundantly diversified, as properly to accommodate every species of vegetation. We have a va- riety of intermediate soils, from the loose disjointed sand, to the stiff cohesive clay; from the rough projections of the craggy cliff, to the softly-swelling bed of the smooth parterre. The sea carries equal evidences of a most wise and gracious ordination. Was it larger, we should want land for the purposes of pasturage and the operations of husbandry. We should be destitute of sufficient room for mines and forests ; our subterranean warehouses, and our aerial timber-yards. — Was it smaller, it would not be capable of recruiting the sky with a proper quantity of vaporous exhalations, nor of supplying the earth with the necessary quota of fructify- ing showers. Do we not discern very apparent strokes of skill, and the most pregnant proofs of goodness, in each individual object ? in the • If the reader has patience to go through the fol- lowing essay, he will find it, in tne issue, not altoge- ther foreign to the main subject. If he pleases to consider it, as a kind of practical comment, in that lovely celebration of providential goodness. His ten- der mercies are over all his works ; this may possibly alleviate the toil of perusing, and reconcile him to the length of the descant. 412 THEHON AND ASPASIO. various tenants of the globe, and the several appurtenances of this great dwelling ? It is needless to expatiate upon the more eminent and conspicuous beauties — all that shines in the heavens, and all that smiles on the earth. These speak to every ear, these show to every eye, the adorable munificence of their Maker. It is needless to launch into the praises of the valleys, delicately clothed with herbage ; or of the fields, rich- ly replenished with com. Even the ragged rocks, which frown over the flood ; the ca- vemed quarries, which yawn amidst the land ; together with the mountains, those shape- less and enormous protuberances, which seem to load the ground and encumber the skies ; even these contribute their share to increase the general pleasure, and aug- ment the general usefulness. They varie- gate the prospect ; raise an agreeable horror in the beholder; and inspire his breast with a religious awe. They add new charms to the wide level of our plains ; and shelter, like a screen, the warm lap of our vales. We are delighted with the solemn gloom and magnificent aspect of the forest. One who saw the cedars of Lebanon, was tran- sported with admiration at their ample tmnks and towering heads, their diffusive spread and verdant grandeur. Compared wiih which the stately elm is but a reed, and the branching oak a mere shrub. Was our sight qualified for the search, we should discover a symmetry and a dignity altoge- ther as perfect, and far more wonderful, in those groves of moss* which adhere to the rude stone : we should contemplate with greater suiprise, if not with gi-eater rapture, those diminutive plantations, which strike their hasty roots in the mouldy confection, or wave their curious umbrage over the perished pickle.f Who is not charmed with the vine, and its generous warming juices ? with the melon, and its delicious cooling pulp ? Yet, were all our trees to produce fruits of such ex. alted qualities, or of such an agreeable relish, what would become of the birds? How • See, for a proof of this remark, the explanation of the tenth plate, in that very curious, very enter- taining, and no less instructive piece entitleil, " Mi- cograpliia Restaurata;" where our author compares the size of this little vegetable with the (limensions of those vast trees which grow in the vigorous cli- mates of Guinea and Brazil ; the tnmks of which arr, according to the report of travellers, twenty feet in diameter, whereas the body of this minuteplant mea- sures no more than the sixtieth part of an inch. So that, upon a calculation, the thickness of the former exceeds that of the latter, 2,!)85,9()4 times. So prodi- giously various are the works of the Creator. t That whitish kind of down, which shags the pu-. trefying pickle, which iucrusts the surface of some corrupted liquors, and constitutes what we call moul- diness, is really a cluster of little plants. Each has a root and a stalk ; each spreads its branches, and pro- duces seed in abundance. nadicesque suashabet, cxilemque coronam, Frondesipie, fnictuniquc gerit, velut ardua quercus. small a scantling of such choice delicacies would voracious man resign to their enjoy- ment? That provision may be made for the meanest vagrant of the air, as well as for the most reno\vned sovereign of a nation, there is, in all places, a large grovrth of shrubs, covered annually with a harvest of coarse and hardy berries ; so coarse in their taste, that they are unworthy of the acceptance of man ; so hardy in their make, that they endure the extremest severities of the weather, and furnish the feathered tribe with a standing repast, amidst all the deso- lations of winter. The fir, wth her silver bark, and shapely cone ; the beech," with her quivering leaves and embowering shade, are stately decora- tions of our rural seats. But, if there were no entangling thickets, no pnckly thorns, where would the farmer procure fences so closely wattled, or so strongly armed ? How could he guard the scene of his labours, or secure his vegetable wealth from the flocks and the herds — those roving plunderers, which accede to no treaty, but that of forci- ble restraint, submit to no laws, but those of the coercive kind? Most people are fond of the purslane's fleshy leaves, and the ramified fatness of the brocoli ; the patato's mealy orbs, and the lentile's succulent pods. We spare no toil, we grudge no expense, to have them flour- ish in our gardens, and served up at our ta- bles. But there are innumerable herbs, which pass under the contemptible charac- ter of weeds, and yet are altogether as de- sirable to many classes of creatures, as these culinary gifts to mankind. Who shall be at the pains to plant, to water, to cultivate, such despicable productions ? Man would rather extirpate than propagate these incum- brances of his acres. Therefore Provi- dence vouchsafes to be their gardener. Pro- vidence has wrought oflF their seeds into such a lightness of substance, that they are carried abroad with the undulations of the air ; or, if too heavy to be wafted by the breeze, they are fastened to \vings of douTi, which facilitate their flight ; or else are enclosed in a springy case, which, forci- bly bursting, shoots and spreads them on every side. By some such means, the re- producing principle is disseminated, the uni- versal granary is filled, and the universal board furnished. The buzzing insect, and the creeping worm, have each his bill of fare. Each enjoys a never-failing treat, • The fir, the beech, and such like tree.?, are called in Hebrew, Cl3^bbn3 Isa. vii. 19. Which word is rendered, but I think very improperly, bushes. It rather signifies the grand and most admired plant*. It is intended as a contiast to the coarse and despica- ble thorns, mentioned in the preceding clause. And both taken together express all sorts of trees, from the toweling cedar to the gtoN-elling shnib. DIALOGUE XV. 413 equivalent to our finest venisoii, or to the •• fat of kidneys of wheat."* As the seeds of some plants are most artfully scattered abroad when ripe, the seeds of others are most carefully guarded till they come to maturity ; and by both contrivances, every species is not barely preserved, but in a manner eternized. Some are lodged in the centre of a large pulp, which is at once their defence and their nourishment. This we find exemplified in the tasteful apple and the juicy pear. Some, besides the surrounding pulp, are enclosed in a thick shell, hard and impenetrable as stone. We cannot pluck and eat one of those downy peaches, or encrimsoned nec- tarines, which so beautifully emboss the wall, without finding a proof of this precau- tion. Cast your eye upon the walnuts, which stud the branches of that spreading tree. Before these are gathered, the increase of the cold, and the emptiness of the gar- dens, will sharpen the appetite of the birds. To secure the fine kernel from the depre- dations of their busy assailing bills, it is fortified with a strong enclosure of wood, and with the addition of a disgustful bitter rind. If grass was as scarce as the Guernsey lily, or as difficultly raised as the delicate tuberose, how certainly and how speedily must many millions of quadrupeds perish with famine ! Since all the cattle owe their chief subsistence to this vegetable, by a sin- gular beneficence in the divine economy, " it waiteth not," like the corn-field and the garden-bed, for the annual labours of man, Micah V. 7. When once sown, though ever so frequently cropped, it revives with the returning season, and flourishes in a kind of perennial verdure- It covers our mea- dows, diffuses itself over the plains, springs up in every glade of the forest, and spreads a sideboard in the most sequestered nook. Since the nutriment of vegetables them- selves lies hid under the soil, or floats up and down in the air ; beneath, they plunge their roots-j- into the ground, and disperse every way their fibrous suckers, to explore the latent, and attract the proper nourish- ment ; above, they expand a multitude of leaves,-]- which, like so many open mouths. * The fat of kkJneys of wheat, Deut. xxxii. 14. A sentencerich withelegance! such as would haveshone in Pinrtar, or been admired in Longinus. Vet, I be- lieve its principal beauty consists in an allusion to a remarkable Jewish rite. In every sacrifice, the fat of the kidneys was, as the most delicious part of the victim, set apart for God, and consumed on his altar. Here even the common people were treated like the Deity. They lay under no restraint, either from the divine prohibition, or the scarcity of the grain ; but were copiously supplied, and freely regaled them- selves with the choicest and finest part of this first and best of vegetables. •f Job most beautifully alludes to these two sources of vegetable fertility ; " My root was spread out by the waters, and the dew lay till uight upon my braucli." Job xxix. 19. catch the rains as tbey fall, imbibe the dews as they distil, and transmit them, through their nice orifices, to the heart of the plajit, or the lobes of the fruit. I have touched upon the insensible crea- tion, and pointed out the care of a conde- scending Providence, exercised over these lowest formations of nature. The animal world, Theron, falls to your share. It is yours to descant upon those higher orders of existence ; and show us the goodness of God extending its indulgent regards to them and their interests, as tenderly, as officious- ly, as a hen spreadeth her wings over her infant brood. Ther. The subject is in good hands. Let part the second be of the same strain with part the first, and there will be no oc- casion to wish for a new speaker. As to myself, I have very little inclination to talk. But I have an ear open and attentive to yoiu: discourse. Asp. You put me in mind of the philo- sopher who presumed to read a lecture on the art of war in the presence of Hannibal. But his impertinence was voluntary, mine is constrained. Since you enjoin me this office, let us pass from the vegetable to the animal world. Here we shall find no tribe, no individual neglected. The superior classes want no demonstration of their ex- cellent accomplishments. At the first glimpse, they challenge our approbation, they command our applause. Even the more ignoble forms of animated existence are most msely circumstanced, and most liberally accommodated. They all generate in that particular sea- son which is sure to supply them w-ith a stock of provision, sufficient both for them- selves and their increasing families. The sheep yean, when there is a profusion of nutrimental herbage on the soil, to fill their udders and create milk for their lambs. The birds lay their eggs, and hatch their young, when myriads of new-boi-n tender insects swarm on every side ; so that the caterer, whether it be the male or female parent, needs only to alight on the ground, or make a little excursion into the air, and they find a feast ready dressed, and all at free cost, for the clamant mouths at home. Their love to their offspring, while they continue in a helpless state, is invincibly strong : whereas, the very moment they are able to shift for themselves ; when the pa- rental affection would be attended with much solicitude, and productive of no ad- vantage ; it vanishes, as though it had never been. The hen which marches at the head of her little brood, would fly in the eyes of a mastiff, or even encounter a lion in their defence. Yet, within a few weeks, she abandoi;s her chickens to the wide world, and not so much as knows thein any more 414 THERON AND ASPASIO. If the God of Israel inspired Bczaleel and Alioliab with " wisdom, and understand- ing, and knowledge in all manner of work- manship," Exod. xxxi. 3, the God of nature has instructed the wild and warbling inlja- bitants of the bough. The skill with which they erect their houses, and adjust their apartments, is inimitable. The caution with which they secrete their abodes from the searching eye, or intruding foot, is ad- mirable. No general, though fruitful in expedients, could plan a more artful con- cealment. No aichitect, with his rule and line, could build so commodious a lodg- ment. Give the most celebrated artificer the same materials which these weak and inex- perienced creatures use ; let a Jones, or a De Moivre, have only some rude straws or ugly sticks j a few bits of dirt, or scraps of hair ; a sorry lock of wool, or a coarse sprig of moss ; and what works, fair wdth deli- cacy, or fit for service, could they produce ? We extol the commander who knows how to take advantage of the ground ; who can make the sun and wind fight for him, as well as his troops ; and, by every circum- stance, embarrasses the forces of the enemy, but expedites the action and advances the success of his o\m. Does not this praise belong to our feathery leaders, who pitch their tent, or (if you please) fix their i)en- sile camp, on the dangerous branches that wave aloft in the air, or dance over the eddies of the stream ? By which judicious disposi- tion, the vernal gales rock their cradle, and the murmuring waters lull their young ; while both concur to terrify the shei>herd, and keep the schoolboy at a trembling dis- tance. Some hide their little household from view, amidst the shelter of entangled furze : others remove it from reach, in the centre of a thorny thicket : And, by one stratagem or another, they are generally as secure and unmolested in their feeble habi- tations, as the foxes, which intrench^them- selves deep in the earth, or as the conies, which retire to the rock for their citadel. Prov. XXX. 26. If the swan has large sweeping wings, and a copious stock of feathers, to spread over her callow brood ; the wren makes up, by contrivance, what is deficient in her bulk. Small as she is, she intends* to bring forth. • Aspasio has ventured to say, she intends ; and one is almost tempted to think, from the preparation which the little creature makes, that she has really sat down, and counted the cost, and concerted her scheme. As though she had delineated with herself: " I shall lay, not a couple of eggs, hut near a score. From these I am to produce a house full of young, but how shall I have warmth (unless art supply what nature has denied) sufficient to hatch the embryos, or cherish the infants?" The truth, I believe is, that in all her seeming foresight and circumspect behaviour, she acts she knows not what ; only she acts what eter- nal wisdom knows to be necessary, and what all-con- descending goodness prompts her to perform. and will be obliged to nurse up. a very nH- merous issue. Therefore, with the ror- rectest judgment she designs, and witli in- defatigable assiduity finishes, a nest propef for her purpose. It is a neat rotund, lengthened into an oval, bottomed and vault- ed with a regular concave. To preserve it from r^;n, it has several coatings of moss ; to defend it from cold, it has but one window, and only a single door ; to render it both elegant and comfortable, it has car- pets and hangings of the softest finest down. By the help of this curious mansion, our little lady becomes the mother of multitudes. The vivyfying heat of her body L=, during the time of incubation, exceedingly aug- mented. Her house is like an oven, and greatly assists in hatching her young. Which no sooner burst the shell, than they find themselves screened from the annoyance of the weather, and most agreeably reposed, amidst the ornaments of a palace, and the warmth of a bagnio. Perhaps we have been accustomed to look upon the insects as so many rude scraps of creation, and to rank them amongst the refuse of things ; whereas, if we examine them without prejudice, and with a little attention, they will appear some of the most polished pieces of divine workmanship. Many of them are decked with a profusion of finery. Their eyes are an assemblage* of microscopes, whose mechanism is incon- ceivably nice, and finished in the highest perfection. Their dress has all the variety and lustre of colours ; it is set with an ar- rangement of the most brilliant gems, '; and bordered with fringes richer far than > the most costly silks. Their wings are the finest expansions imaginable ; cambric | is mere canvass, and lawn is coarse as sack- ( cloth, compared with those inimitable webs. i The cases which enclose their wings, glitter with the most glossy varnish ; are scooped ' with ornamental flutings ; are studded with radiant spots ; or pinked with elegant holes. Not any among them but are equipped with weapons, or endued with dexterity, which qualify them to seize their prey, or escape their foe ; to dispatch the business of their respective station, and enjoy the pleasures of their particular condition. * The common fly. for instance, who is surrounded with a multitude of dangers, and has neither strength to resist her enemies, nor a place of retreat to secure herself; for which reason she had need to be very >.- gilant and always upon her guard. Vet her liead is so fixed, that it is incajiable of turning, in order to observe what passes, either behind or around her. Providence therefore, surprisingly wise in its con- trivances, and equally bountiful "in its gifts, has fur- nished her, not barely with a retinue, but with more than a legion of eyes. Insomuch, that a single fly'is supposed to be mistress of no less than eight thou- sand ; every one of which is lined with a distinct optic nerve. By means of this costly and amazing appara- tus, the little creature sees on every side, with the ut- most ease, and with instantaneous spee TJier. You take no notice of the man who was found without a wedding-garment ; which is by fiir the most alarming ineident, and that which gives me no small uneasi- ness. Asp, And does my Theron take proper notice of the divine declaration ? " 1 have prepared my dinner," says the King eternal, " All things are ready," Matth. xxii, 4. " Whatever is necessary for the justification, the holiness, the complete salvation of sin- ners, is provided in the merit and the grace of my Son. Let them come therefore, as to a nuptial banquet; and freely enjoy my munificence ; and feast their souls with the royal provision. The man without a wedding-garment, denotes the specious superficial professor ; who is " called by Christ's name," but has never "put on Christ Jesus by faith." Shall 1 tell you more plainly whom this character re- presents ? You yourself, my dear Theron, was some months ago, in the state of this unhappy creature, when you trusted in your- self, and thought highly of your own, thought meanly of your Saviour's righteousness. I congratulate my friend on this happy deliverance from so dangerous a condition. You and I are now like the returning pro- digal. Let us remember that he came with no recommendation, either of dress, of per- son, or of character. None but his naked- ness, his misery, and an acknowledgment of vileness, which had every aggravating, not one extenuating circumstance. Yet he was received, received with inexpressible in- dulgence ; and clothed with that first, that best, that divinest robe, Luke xv. 22, the righteousness of Jesus Christ. Let us accustom ourselves to consider this incomparable robe, under its evangelical character. It is not a matter of bargain, nor the subject of sale, but a deed of gift. " The gift of righteousness," says the apostle. And gifts, we all know, are not to be purchased, but received. Thcr. Is nothing then, nothing to be done on our part ? no heavenly-mindedness to be exercised ? no victory over our lusts gain- ed ? no fruits of sanctification produced ? Asp. These legal apprehensions ! how closely they cleave to my Theron's mind ! But 1 hope the word of God, which pierceth to the dividing asunder the soul and spirit, will give the severing blow. And what says that sacred word ? It describes the gospel as a will or testament, Heb. ix. 16, 17,* and all its glorious blessings, as legacies, be- queathed by the dying Jesus. When your old acquaintance Charicles left you a hand- some legacy, what did you do to establish your title, and make it your own ? Ther. My title was pre-established by my friend's donation. I had nothing to do, but to claim, to accept, and to pos- sess. Asp. Do the very same in the present case. They who believe are heirs, undoubt- ed "heirs of the righteousness which is by faith," Heb. xi. 7. Surely you cannot sup- pose that Christ's kindness is less sincere, or that Christ's donations are less valid, than those of an earthly testator. Titer. This illustration hardly reaches the point- I speak not of doing any thing by way of merit, but by way of qualifica- tion. Asp. If there be any qualification, I think it is our extreme indigence. This indeed it will be proper to have ; and this, I pre- sume, you are not without. Other qualifi- cation, neither reason prescribes nor scrip- ture requires. "Reason prescribes no other." — The gifts of the great eternal Sovereign are in- tended, not to recognise our imaginary worth, but to aggrandize our views of his mercy and grace. To answer such a design, the unworthy and the sinners are duly qua- lified ; nay, are the only qualified persons. " Scripture requires no other." — The ever-merciful Saviour says not. They are unqualified for my merits ; they have no valuable or noble acquirements. But this is his tender complaint : " They will not come to me," just as they are — with all their sins about them, with all their guilt upon them — " that they may have life." John V. 40. Pray — take notice of this text, and you will see things placed in a new light, ranged in a new order. Sanctifica- tion, heavenly mindedness, and a victory over our lusts, are not so much the qualities which he requires, as the blessings which he will confer. * This notion not only runs through the scriptures, but stands conspicuous even in their title-page. What are they called? The Old and the New lestament. What is a Testament? An authentic deed, in which estates are transmitted, and legacies bequeathed In other testaments some earthly possession: in this the heavenly patrimony, even all the riches of grace, snd the everlasting inheritance of glory. Did we consider the scriptures in this light, it would be a most engag- ing invitation to search' them with assiduity and plea- sure. What child is willing to continue ignorant of a deceased parent's last will and testament ? Who does not covet to know, what honours, hereditaments, and wealth, devolve to his enjoyment by such an interest- ing and venerable conveyance ? DIALOGUE XV. 419 Titer. " The unworthy and sinners, the only qualified !" of this expression 1 cannot but tiike particular notice. Then Judas should stand in the first rank of qualified persons ; and the devout centurion, " whose prayers and alms had come up as a memo- rial hefore God," was thereby unqualified for the favour of heaven. Asp. If you observed my expression, I spoke in the hypothetical maimer ; made a supposition rather than advanced an as- sertion. If there be any qualification, this is the only one. But, strictly speaking, there is no such thing. The impulsive or inclining cause of all God's favour shown, of all God's goodness exercised, is — from the creature ? No ; but from himself, him- self alone I " He has mercy," not because this or that person is amiable, is meet, or qualified, but " because he will have mer- cy." And as for our need of mercy and reconciliation, arising from our sinfulness, this can no more constitute a real qualifica- tion for the blessings, than an act of rebellion can qualify for the first honours of the state. But this we must allow, that such need, such misery, such sinfulness, illustrate the freeness, and manifest the riches of grace. And this we should never forget, that God's first and leading purpose, in all his favour- able dispensations to fallen man, is to de- monstrate the sovereignty, and advance the glory of his grace. The Lord, promising a very extraordinary deliverance to Israel, says, " not for your sakes, be it known unto you, do I this," Ezek. xxxvi. 32, single act of kindness. What then is the inducement ? We find it in the following declaration : " 1, even I, am he that blotteth out your trans gressions for my own sake,* and according to the good pleasure of my will." Isa. xliii. 25. What is the end of all ? « It is for the praise of the glory of his grace." Eph. i. 6. A proper motto this for all the displays of divine goodness to sinful men. It has been inscribed by the hand of truth and inspira- tion. Time and eternity, instead of crazing the lines, will only stamp them deeper, and open them wider. Thei: This is such a gift ! to be interest- ed in all the merits of Christ ! to have his immaculate righteousness imputed to my soul ! so that from henceforth there shall be no fear of condemnation, but a comfortable enjoyment of freest love, and a delightful expectation of completest gbry ! Asp. If this rich donation surpass your very thoughts, and fill with you grateful as- tonishment, it is so much the better adapted to display, what the scripture very empha- tically styles, the " abundant," the " super- ♦ Which teaches us that God, and nothing in the creature, is the original, entire, sole cause of all grace, and every gracious vouchsafement. It is not only by him, and through him, but to him ; for the honour of his benign perfections, that we are pardoned, ac- cepted, saved. abimdunt," the "exceeding abundant"" grace of our God. God hath pleasure in the prosperity of his servants. He is a boundless ocean of love ; ever flowing, yet absolutely inexhaustible. See ! what an innumerable variety of benefits 'are trans- mitted from yonder sun, to gladden all the regions of nature ! yet the sun is but a spark ; its highest splendour no more than a shade ; its uninterrupted and most pio- fuse communications of light, a poor dimi- nutive scantling ; compared with the riches of divine benignity. The servant in the parable, who owed ten thousand talents, craved only some mer- ciful forbearance ; whereas his generous lord remitted the whole sum, and gave liim an acquittance in full : " I forgive thee all that debt," Matth. xviii. 32. You wonder, and very deservedly, at such vast generosity. But what had been your admiration to see the noble master admitting this obnoxious sla\e to a share in his dignity ? what if he had made so worthless a wretch the chief of his family, and the heir of his estate ? This per- haps you would say, exceeds the bounds of credibility. Yet God Almighty's stupend- ous beneficence exceeds all this. He not only spares guilty creatures, but makes them his children j makes them inheritors of hU kingdom ; and as an introduction to all, or rather as the crown of all, makes them partakers of his Son. Heb. iii. 14-. Tker. The gift is inestimable ; of more value than all worlds. It will render mo blessed and happy, now and for ever. And may so unworthy a creature look for a bless- ing thus superlatively excellent ? Asp. Unworthy? mydear friend, dwell no longer upon that obsolete topic. The great- est unworthiness is no objection in Chrisfs account, when the soul is convinced of sin, and the heart desirous of a Saviour. And as for worthiness, this is as much disavowed by the gospel as equivocal generationf is ex- ploded by the discoveries of our improved philosophy. Nay, farther, this notion is diametrically contrary to the gospel, and totally subver- sive of the covenant of grace. T/ier. In what respect ? Asp. Because it would make ourowii duty and obedience the terms ; whereas the terms were Christ's suffering, and Christ's obedi- ence. These are the hinge on which that great transaction turns, and on which the hope of the world hangs. ♦ T'Tn.^HaXXmra x,"-^'!- 2 Cor. i'x. 14. Tit'.^. iTi^iirfiV(riv >i ^a^t;. Rom. v. 20. T'^i^i-rkeov acTiv n XH''' 1 Tim. i. 14. \ The ancients imagined, that many vegetables and insects were produced by, I know not w-hat, plastic power in the sun and other elements. This is called e?!(8uoca; generation. Whereas the modern philoso- phers maintain, that every individual of this kind derives its being from some parent-vegetable or pa- rent animal. This is styled uitivoi-al generation. 420 TIIERON AND ASPASIO. Ther. Be more particular, Aspasio. Asp. The tirst covenant was made with Adam, for himself and us. Breaking it, he lost his original righteousness, and became subject to death ; was at once a bankrupt and a rebel. Now you cannot suppose that the Almighty Majesty would enter into a fresh covenant with an insolvent and attaint- ed creature. It pleased, therefore, the Se- cond Person of the adorable Trinity to un- dertake our cause, to become our Surety, and put himself in our stead. With him the second covenant was made. He was charged with the performance of the condi- tions ; thereby to obtain pardon and righte- ousness, grace and glory, for all his people- " I have made a covenant with my Chosen One,"* is the language of the Most High. And the terras were, (you will permit me to repeat the momentous truth,) not your worthiness or mine, but the incarnation, the obedience, the death of God's ever- blessed Son. Ther. Has man then no office assigned, no part to act in the covenant of grace ? Asp, He has ; but it is a part which my friend seems very loath to discharge. His part is to accept the blessings fully purcht ed by the Saviour, and freely presented to the sinner. His part is not to dishonour the Redeemer's gracious interposition, and in- finitely-sufficient performance, by hankering after any merit of his own. His part (why will you constrain me to reiterate in this manner !) is not to bring money in his hand, with the ten brethren; but with an empty hand, and like an impoverished Lazarus, " to take hold of God's covenant." Isa. Ivi. 4. Ther. If this be the nature of the new covenant, I must confess I have hitherto been ignorant of the gospel. Asp. And from hence arises your present distress ; from hence your averseness to re- ceive comfort. You are a philosopher, Theron, and have been accustomed to examine nice- ly the proportion of objects, rather than to weigh them in the balance of the sanctuary. Here you find all proportion swallowed up and lost. This quite overthrows all your conclusions, drawn from the fitness of things- Here man is nothing, less than nothing, while grace is all in ail. And should we not, however unworthy in ourselves, magni- fy the grace of our God ? » Psal- Ixxxix. 3- It is generally allowed, that this Psalm, in its sublimest sense, is referable to Christ; and in its full extent, is referable only unto Christ. If so, I think it would be more significant and empha- tical torenderthe word my Chosen One. This will fur- nish out a very clear andcogent argument to prove, that the covenant of grace was made with our Lord Jesus- Just such an argument as the apostle uses to convince the Galatians that the promises of the covenant were made to the same divine Person, Gal. iii. 16. From both which promises this important conclusion fol- lows, that justification and every spiritual blessing are the purchase of Christ's obedience ; are lodged in him as the great propitiatory, are communicated to sinners only through the exercise of faith, or in tlie way of believing. .See Zech. i.\. II. Ther. Most certainly. Asp. How can this be done, but by ex- pecting great and superlatively precious blessings from his hand? Alexander, you know, had a famous but indigent philoso- pher in liis court. Our adept in science was once particularly straitened in his cir- cumstances. To whom should he apply, but to his patron, the conqueror of the world ? His request was no sooner made than grant- ed. Alexander gives him a commision to receive of liis treasurer whatever he wanted. He immediately demands, in his sovereign's name, a hundred talents.* The treasurer, surprised at so large a demand, refuses to com- ply, but waits upon the king, and represents the affair ; adding withal how unreasonable he thought the petition, and how exorbi- tant the sum. Alexander hears him with patience : but, as soon as he had ended his remonstrance, replies : " Let the money be instantly paid, I am delighted with this phi- losopher's way of thinking. He has done me a singular honour , and shewed, by the largeness of his request, what a high idea he has conceived, both of my superior wealth, and my royal munificence." Thus, my dear Theron, let us honour what the inspired penman styles " the mar- vellous loving-kindness of Jehovah. From the King, " whose name is the Lord of hosts," let us expect — not barely what cor- responds with our low models of generosity, much less what we suppose proportioned to our fancied deserts, but what is suitable to the unknown magnificence of his name, and the unbounded benevolence of his heart. Then we shall cheerfully and assuredly trust, that Christ Jesus will be " made of God to us wisdom and righteousness, and sanctifica- tion and redemption ;" that he, who hath given himself for us, Eph. v. 2, will give us of his Spirit, John iv. 1 3, and will give unto us eternal life. John x. 28. Ther. Yes, upon condition that we fight the good fight, and finish our course of duty. Henceforth, says the apostle, after this is done, " there is laid up for me, and for other victorious soldiers, for other faithful labour- ers, " a cro\\Ti of righteousness." Asp. To such persons the crown will as- suredly be vouchsafed. But is it vouch- safed on account of their successful warfare, or persevering obedience ? If so," Israel may vaunt themselves and say, Mine own hand, not the Redeemer's interposition, hath sav- ed me. Judges vii- 8. Not to repeat what has already been al- leged in opposition to this opinion ; not to produce what might further be urged, from a variety of scriptural testimonies ; I shall only desire you to observe what the apostle himself adds in this very place : " There is About ten thousand pounds. DIALOGUE XV. 121 laid up for mc a crown of righteousness ;" but is this the pay proportionate and due to his own services ? Is it what he claims and demands, on the foot of duty performed ? The very title of the reward implies the contrary. It is a crown of righteousness, because purchased by the meritorious and consummate righteousness of Christ. The action of the judge declares the contrary ; " which the Lord the righteous Judge shall give me at that day." It is, you see, an act of favour ; the issue of uinnerited bounty ; what neither saint nor martyr, nor apostle enjoys, but only by way of gracious dona- tion.* 2 Tim. iv. 8. I would fain have my Theron form more honourable apprehensions concerning the mercy and the bounty of our Lord Jesus Christ. He will bestow what you suppose he exacts. He is really a benefactor where you would represent him as a task-master. " The Lord will give grace as well as glory." He knows you have neither strength nor merit ; therefore he will supply your want of both from his ovm unfathomable ful- ness. TJier. Ah ! my Aspasio! you do not know my state. I have not only no merit, but great guilt ; was by nature a child of wrath ; have been by practice a slave of sin ; and what is worse, am still corrupt ; have still a carnal heart — And has not such a wretch forfeited all title to the divine favour ? Nay, does he not deserve the vengeance of eter- nal fire ? Asp. That we all deserve this misery, is beyond dispute. I am truly glad that we are sensible of our demerit. Here our re- covery begins. Now we are to believe, that the Lord Jesus has satisfied divine justice ; has paid a glorious price, on purpose to ob- tain for such ill-deserving, such hell-deserv- ing creatures, all pardon, all holiness, and everlasting happiness. According to the import of that charming Scripture, " When we were enemies (and what is there in an enemy to bespeak favour or deserve bene- fits ?) we were reconciled to God by the death of his Son." Rom. v. 10. You have great guilt. But is this a rea- son why you should be excluded from the blessings of the covenant ? Contemplate * I Believe no one experienced in the spiritual life will suspect that Theron speaks out of character. Con- science, when once alarmed, is a stubborn and uncere- monious thing. It pays no defeience to wealth ; it never stands in awe of grandeur: neither can it be soothed by the refinements of education or the attain- ments of learning. And we generally find that a most unaccountable propensity to sslf-worthiness strongly possesses the newly awakened convert. He is perpetu- ally raising objections founded on the want of per- sorial merit ; notwithstanding all our remonstrances to quiet his fears, and remove his jealousies. It is truly a hard task for a mind naturally leavened with legal jiiide, to come nakedand miserable to Christ; to come divested ofevetyrecommendationbut that of extreme wretchedness; and receive from the hand of unmerit- •ti bcui^nity thejfrcc riches of evangelical grace. the state of that forlorn and wretcbefl out- cast, described in Ezekiel, chap. xvi. An infant "in its blood:" this represents a sin- ner, who has nothing to excite love, but all that may provoke abhorrence. Yet what says the Holy One of Israel? " When I saw thee" — not washed and purified, and made meet for my acceptance, but — " pol- luted in thy blood;"* loathsome with de- filement, and laden with iniquity ; then, even then, " I said unto thee, Live : I spread my skirt over thee , and thou be- camest mine." This is the manner of his proceeding, not barely to one nation, but to all his people ; not in one period of time only, but through all generations. You are still corrupt, one that is sensible of his corruption, and acknowledges his sinfulness ! Then you are the very person for whom the Saviour's righteousness is in- tended; to whom it is promised. — You are a governor of the county hospital, Theron. You have been industrious in promoting, and are active in supporting that excellent institution ; where medicine with her heal- ing stores, and rebgion with her hea.venly hopes, act as joint handmaids to charity. What are tiie circumstances which render any persons the proper objects for an ad- mission into your infirmaiy? Tlitr. Their poverty, and their distem- per. Without poverty, they Avould not need ; and, free from distemper, they would not prize, the benefit of our modern Beth- esda. Asp. Apply this to the case under con- sideration. The whole world is in a state of spiritual disorder. Christ is styled by the inspired writer, "the Lord our healer." Exod. XV. 26. The gift of-his righteousness, the balm of his blood, and the influences of his Spirit, are the sovereign restorative. And sure it cannot be a fanciful persuasion of our health, but a feeling conviction of our disease, which renders us proper objects of his recovering grace. " He came, not to call the righteous," the righteous in their own eyes, "but sinners," Matt. ix. l-S, Acts V. 31, self-condemned and ruined sin- ners, to give them " repentance," and par- don, and newness of life. Ther. But if any foolish and refractory patients have abused our beneficence, it is a standing unalterable rule of the house, never to admit them a second time, how- ever pressing their exigencies, or however powerful their recommender. I have not once only, but through the whole course of « The words are peculiarly emphatical ; not only doubled, but redoubled ; to denote, at once, the strangeness ofthefact, yet tlieccrtanity of the favour. " When I passed by thee, and saw tliee polluted in thine own blood, I said unto tlioe when thou wast m thy blood. Live ; yea, I said luito thee, when thou wast in thy blood, live." Kzck. xvi. G. 422 THERON AND ASPASIO. my life, abased the marvellous loving kind- ness of the Lord. Asp. And is not the Lord superior to all his creatures, in acts of pardon as well as of power ? Yes, as those heavens are higher than this prostrate earth, so much more en- larged and extensive is the divine clemency — than the widest sphere of human kind- ness, shall I say ? rather, than the boldest ilights of human imagination. Your sta- tutes are inexorable, in case of one notori- ous irregularity committed : " But the free gift of a Redeemer's righteousness is vouch- safed, notwithstanding " many offences, un- to justification." Rom. V. 10. It is the glory of our almighty Ruler, and redounds to the honour of his crucified Son, to pass over, Prov. xix. 11, not a single transgres- sion only, but a multitude of provocations ; to be altogether as unequalled in mercy, as he is absolutely supreme in majesty. As it is the grossest pride to entertain high notions of our own accomplishments, or to expect eternal life on the score of our own obedience ; so it will be the greatest affront to the grandeur of Christ's merits, and the freeness of his grace, if we suppose our crimes too heinous to be forgiven, or our persons too vile to be accepted. Theron paused. — These considerations seemed to operate ; this anodyne to take effect. Desirous to improve the favourable juncture, and impart the needed consola- tion, Aspasio added : — How often did the inhabitants of Jeru- salem disregard the warnings, and reject the counsels of our blessed Lord ! How justly might he have sworn in his wrath, '• They shall never hear the joyful sound of my gospel more. The blessings which they have so wantonly despised, and so \\icke(]ly abused, shall be irrevocably with- drawn." Instead of passing such a sen- tence, this is the charge which, after his re- surrection, he gives to his ajjostles : " Let repentance and remission of sins be preach- ed in my name to all nations, beginning at Jerusalem." Luke xxiv. 47. " At Jeru- salem, Lord ! Have not the men of that un- grateful and barbarous city been deaf to thy tenderest importunities? Did they not per- secute thee unto condemnation and death ? Are not their weapons still reeking, as it were, with thy blood ; and their tongues still shooting out arrows, even bitter words, by which they would murder thy character, as they have already crucified thy person ?" Yet these wretches (and could any be more inhuman ? could any be more unworthy ?) are not only not abhorred, but unto them is the message of grace and the word of sal- ' vation sent. Nay, to show the unparnlleled fieeness of our Redeemer's grace, these are first upon the heavenly list. The glad tid- ings of pardon and life, which are to bo pub- • lished through the world, must oegm (^atriaz- ing mercy !) must begin at Jerusalem. Ther. Thus much I may venture to pro- fess in my own behalf; — That I long for this blessing ; I pray for this blessing; but I cannot see my title to this com])rehensive and inestimable blessing clear. Asp. I behold it perfectly clear. Some days ago, a worthy clergyman, who lately came to settle in the neighbourhood, did himself the honour of making one at your table. After dinner you showed him your library ; we took a walk in your garden, and made the agreeable tour of the fish-ponds. Then, with that amiable frankness of mien and accent, which is so peculiar to my friend, and exceedingly endears all his fa- vours, you told him, '• that he was as wel- come to any hook in your study, as if the whole collection svas his own ; that if, on a visit from some acquaintance of superior rank, he should wish to be accommodated with a more delicate entertainment than usual, the productions of your waters, and of your hot-beds, were entirely at his ser- vice ; and that his acceptance of your offers, without the least shyness or reserve, would be the most pleasing compliment he could pay you on the occasion." What says the great Proprietor of all good ? " If any man," however unworthy his person, or obnoxious his character, " thirst ;" — thirst for the blessings of my evangelical kingdom ; — " let him come unto me," the fountain of these living waters, " and drink his fill-" John vii. 37. You yourself acknowledge that you long for the sacred privileges of the gospel. Your heart; is awakened into habitual and lively desires after the salvation of Christ. What is this but, in the spiritual sense, to thirst r' To you, therefore, the promise is made, to you the riches of this benign dispensation be- long. That clergyman has not the least suspi- cion of being disappointed, in case he should Send for a brace of carp from your canal, or a fine melon from your garden — Why is he so confident? Because he has done you any signal service ? No ; but because you have passed your word, and made the generous offer. And why should you harbour the least doubt concerning the divine veracity? Why should you call in question your right to these heavenly treasures ? since it is founded on a grant altogether as free, alto- gether as clear, as your own indulgent con- cession, and infinitely more firm than any human engagement ? founded on the fidelity of that supreme Being, " who remembers his covenant and promise to a thousand ge- neiations." Ther. It is impossible to confute, yet dif- ficult to believe what you urge. Ajip. What I ujge is not the voice of a DIALOGUE XV. •*?3 few (Uihious passages, nicely culled from the book of God, or forcibly wrested by the in- terpretation of man. The whole tenor of in- spiration runs, with the greatest perspicuity, and the greatest uniformity, in this delightful strain. Let nie, out of a multitude, produce another express from the court of heaven- " Ho ! every one that thirsteth, come ye to the waters, even he that hath no money. Come ye, buy and eat ; yea come, buy wine and milk, without money and without price." Isaiah Iv. 1- Wine and milk undoubtedly signify the pardon of our sins, and the justi- fication of our persons ; the communications of sanctifying grace, and the hope of eternal glory. These are nourishing and refreshing to the soul, as miPk, the richest of foods, and as wine, the best of cordials, are to the body. These you see are to be obtained, " without money, and without price," with- out any merit of our own — without any plea deduced from oursehes, by poor, undone, perishing bankrujits. They are to be en- joyed by every one — «ho uufeignedly es- teems them, aivd humbly seeks them. No exception is made ; no exclusive clause added. It is not said, any one that is worthy, but "every one that thirsteth." To leave no room for any misgiving appre- hcuFions, the kind invitation is repeated : " Buy and eat ; buy wine and milk." The invaluable yet free tender is confirmed again and again ; " He that hath no money — without money — without price." And both are pressed upon us with a very remarka- ble, with the most affectionate vehemence : " Come ye ; come ye ; yea come." ' Had onr heavenly benefactor permitted us to draw up this instrument of convey- ance, and woid it according to our own wish, what langunge could we have contriv- ed, to render either the grant more free, or our claim more secure ? Ther. These are cheering truths. They amount to little less than a demonstration. And I am ready to declare, in the language of Agrippa, Almost thou persuadest me to commence a believer. Asp. And why, my dear friend, why not altogether? Can you distrust the sincerity of the divine overtures? If the overtures are real, your title is unquestionable. Nay, there is more than an overture : You have an actual gift from the Almighty Majesty. " To us," says the prophet, includiug all that wait for the redemption of Christ, and the consolation of Israel, " a child is born." Isaiah ix 6. " To us," he repeats the pre- cious truth, to declare his exuberant joy, ai;d denote the absolute certainty of the thing, see Gen, xli- 32, "a son is given ;" even God's own Son, the ever-blessed Je- sus, to be our propitiation, our surety, our complete Kedeenier. Just cast a look upon yonder neat lodge. Though placed in the centre of a spacious field, it seems to be contiguous with the ex- tremity of the vista. 'The eye, travelling over such a length of ground, has almost lost the windows, and the decent ornaments of the front. But I shall not soon lose the idea of that amiable munificence, which, as I was rambling one pleasant morning, and accidentally called at the house, I learned from its present owner. He was, I find, one of your servants ; had spent several years in your family : When he settled in the world, you bestowed upon him that commodious box, and a pretty adjacent farm; to possess, without molestation orcon- trol, during his life. Does he not reckon the little estate, by virtue of your donation, to be his own ? as much his own, for the time pre- scribed, as if he had paid an equivalent in money? Since the Lord Jehovah has given us his Son, and all his unutterable merits ; why should we not, with an assurance of faith, receive the incomparable gift ? Why should we not confide in it, as firmer than the firmest deed ; and far more inviolable than any royal patent? Especially since it has been sealed to us in every sacramental or- dinance, and witnessed by every good mo- tion of the Holy Spirit in our hearts. Ther. My servant never affronted my authority. If he had vilified my character, or insulted my person, should 1 then have been inclined to make the same advantage- ous settlement ? Asp. Herein appears the infinite superi- ority of the divine bounty. God is rich in mercy, not only to the obedient and grateful, but to the unthankful and unworthy. " To the Lord our God," says the prophet, " be- long mercies and forgivenesses," in measure superabundant, and in continuance unwear- ied : and this, " notwithstanding we have" offended him by our manifold failures in duty; nay, have "rebelled against him,"* Dan. ix. 9, by flfigrant violations of his law- * The original word in the Hehrew language, bears a more obnoxious signification. It denotes tne most audacious and the most flagitious impiety. It denotes that rebellion which is ss the sin of witchcraft ; and that stubbornness, which is as the iniquity of idola- try: Vet, all-virulent and execrable as it is, it does not suppress the yearnings of divine pity, nor super- sede the exercise of divine forgiveness. With a word derived from the same root, Saul, when exasperated almost to madness, upbraids Jonathan. And we know, persons so extremely incensed never speak in the softest terms; never touch the subject with a feather, but make their tongue like a sharp sword. May I venture to add, that our translators seem to mistake the proper application of the aforementioned passage? They represent Saul's invective, flying as wide of the mark, as it is overcharged with malice. Son of the perverse rebellious woman ! This might be asserted, without the least impeachment of Jona- than's personal loyalty. Besides, is it not excessively indecent, as well as absolutely unreasonable, to re- flect upon the mother, for the misdemeanours of the son ? Surely, the clause should be rendered in perfect, consistence with the genius of the original : Thou son of perverse rebellion; or, more agreeably to the Knglish idiom, Thou perverse rebellious wretch ! 1 Sam. XX. iO. 434 THERON AND ASPASIO. Ill sweot concert with this prophetical lesson, sings the transported psalmist : "Thou, Lord," in thy sacred humanity, "hast ascended up on high ;" ascended, from the low cavornsofthe tomb, to the highest throne in the highest heavens. " Thou hast led cap- tivity captive ;" hast abolished death, that imiversal tyrant ; and subdued those powers of darkness which had enslaved the whole world. Like a glorious and triumphant conqueror, thou hast also "received gifts;" not merely for thy own fruition, but to con- fer on others, by way of honorary and en- riching largess. What aie those gifts, The- roii ? Tlier. The gifts of the gospel, I suppose ; pardon of sin, the influences of the Holy Spirit, and those other privileges of Christ- ianity, which constitute the present happi- ness of mankind, and prepare them for fu- ture bliss. Asp. You rightly judge. And for whom were those royal, those heavenly donatives received ? If you have an inclination to bestow a sword set with diamonds, a fine- ly wrought piece of plate, or an exquisitely finished picture — what names present them- selves to your thoughts ? What persons are the objects of your choice? The approved friend, or distinguished favourite, 1 make no question- But for whom (let me ask again, since it is a point of the last import- ance) were those heavenly donatives re- ceived ? Thcr. Let me recollect : " Thou receiv- edst gifts," not for fallen angels, but " for men ;" and not for thy friends, but for thy " enemies ;" yea, " for the rebellious also," Psalm Ixviii. 16. Merciful heaven ! What a word is this ! And does it come from the God of truth ? Gifts, divine gifts ! gifts of unspeak!d)le value and eternal duration, and these to be conferred on enemies, on the re- bellious ! wretches who are destitute of all gracious qualifications ; who deserve not the least favour, but have reason to expect the frowns of indignation, and the sword of vengeance ! Anp. Thus it is written in those sacred constitutions, which are far more stedfast and unalterable than the laws of the Medes and Persians. Thus it is spoken, by the mouth of that Almighty Being, with whom there is no variableness, nor the least sha- dow of turning. — Let us not, my dear friend, by unreasonable unbelief, frustrate all these promises, and reject our own mercies. Let MS not, by an evil heart of unbelief, make God a liar; and make ourselves, of all crea- tures, most miserable. But see ! The clouds which hung their agreeable sables to damp the ardour, and abate the glare of day, are departing. The Sim has been colouring their fleecy skirts, and spreading over the floating screen a variety of interchangeable hues- Now he begins to edge them with gold, and shine them into silver ; a sure indication, that (like the glittering but transitory toys which they represent,) they will soon be swept from the horizon, and seen no more. The bright orb, while we are speaking, bursts the veil, and, from a voluminous pomp of parting clouds, pours a flood of splendour over all the face of nature. Vfe shall quick- ly perceive this open situation too hot to consist with pleasure, and must be obliged to seek for shelter in the shady apartments of the house. Will you admit me, Theron, into those shady apartments ? Tlier. Admit you, Aspasio ! I am sur- prised at your question. I thought you had known me better; and I am sorry it should be needful to assure you, that my house is as much your own as it is mine. The more freely you command it, the more highly you will oblige me- Asp. May I believe you, Theron ? Do you speak from your heart? or must I con- clude, that you plausibly profess what you have no intention to perform ? Would you be pleased, if I should obstinately persist in these dishonourable suspicions, notwith- standing all your friendly protestations ? Ther. My dear Aspasio, I see your de- sign. I see and am ashamed, ashamed to think that I should fancy myself more punc- tual in my professions, than God is true to his word- " Lord, I believe ; help thou mine unbelief!" DIALOGUE XVL Our friends had agreed upon a visit to Philenor- They rode through a fine open fruitful country, which was covered with crops of ripened corn, and occupied by se- veral parties of rustics gathering in the co- pious harvest. The rye, white and hoary as it were with age, waved its bearded billows, and gave a dry husky rustle before the breeze. The wheat, laden with plenty, and beautifully brown, hung the heavy head, and invited by its bending posture, the reaper's hand. Plats of barley, and acres of oats, stood whitening in the sun. Upright and perfect- ly even, as though the gardener's shears had clipped them at the top. they gratified the spectator's eye, and gladdened the farmer's heart — Beans, partly clad in native green, partly transformed and tawny with the parching ray, were preparing the last em- ploy for the crooked weapon. Some of the grain lay flat, in regular rows, on the new- made stubble- Some were erected in grace- ful shocks, along the bristly ridges. Some, DIALOGUE XVI. 4C5 conveyed homeAvards on the loaded waggon, nodded over the groaning axle. The villages seemed to be empty, and all their inhabitants poured into t'le plains. Here were persons of each sex and of every age. .— The lusty youths, stooping to their work, plied the sickle; or swept, with their scythes, the falling ranks. The sprightly females fol- lowed, binding the handfuls into sheaves, or piling the swaths into hasty cocks. Dis- persed up and down were the children of the needy, gleaning the scattered ears, and picking their scanty harvest. Nor were the old people absent ; but crawling into the sun, or sitting on a shady eminence, they beheld the toils, the pleasing toils they once sustained. This is the most joyful period of the countryman's life ; the long expected crown of all his labours. For this he broke the stubborn glebe, and manured the impo- verished soil. For this he bore the sultry beams of summer, and shrunk not from the pinching blasts of winter. For this he toiled away the year, in a round of ceaseless but willing activity ; knowing that* " the hus- bandman must labour, before he partakes of the fruits," 2 Tim. ii. 6. And will not the blessed hope of everlasting life ; will not the bright expectation of consummate bliss, animate us with an equally cheerful resolu- tion, both to resist the temptations, and dis- charge the duties of our present state ? Short seemed the way, and quick passed the time, as they travelled through such scenes of rural abundance and rural delight. Before they were awaie, the horses stopt at Philenor's seat, where they found, to their no small disappointment, that the master was gone abroad. They alighted however, and took a walk in the gardens. The gardens, at proper intervals, and in well chosen situations, were interspersed with pieces of statuary. At the turn of a corner, you are — not shocked with a naked gladiator, oi- a beastly Priapus, but agreeably surprised with the image of Tully. He is just risen from his seat, and upon the point of addressing himself to some important oration. A re- verential awe appears in his countenance ; such as silently acknowledges that he is go- ing to plead before the rulers of the world. Sedate, at the same time, and collected in himself, he seems conscious of superior elo- quence, and emboldened by the justice of his cause. His thoughtful aspect, and grace- fully-expanded arm, speak to the eye, before tlie tongue has uttered a syllable. You enter an alley, lined on either side with a verdant fan, and having no variety of objects to diversify the intermediate space, • Beza thinks that in settling the construction of this verse, the adverb ■r^ortiv shouldbe connected with tlic partfiple xsT/wvTa. your view is conducted to a magnifjcent building at the end. As you walk along, contemplating the masterly performance in architecture, an unexpected opening diverts your attention, and presents you with some striking imitation of the virtuous or heroic life. Not the Macedonian madman, nor Sweden's royal knight-errant ; nor Caesar, infam.ously renowned for his slaughtered mil- lions—but the truly-gallant Czar : a drawn sword in his hand, and a commanding ma- jestic sternness on his brow. The weapon is held in the most menacing posture ; and many a spectator has been observed to start back with apprehensions of fear. It is that gloriously severe attitude in which the grate- ful citizens of Narva beheld him, and in which all posterity will admire him, when he turned upon his victorious, but ungo- vernable troops, and threatened to drench (he dagger in their hearts, if they did not immediately desist from rapine* and slaugh- ter, immediately allow quarter to their van- quished foes. Under a circular dome, supported by pil- lars of the Doric order, and in a spot where several walks centre, stands — notlhe Venus de Medicis; corrupting, while it captivates the world — but a Spartan mother. Her ha- bit decent and graceful ; somewhat like the Juno Matrona of the Romans, as she is finely depictured in Mr. Spence's Poly metis. Her air stately and resolved ; expressive of dignity, yet mingled with softness. She holds a shield, is in the act of delivering it to her son ; a youth setting out for the army, and going to hazard his life in defence of his country. She is supposed to add that spirited and magnanimous exhortation, which is engraven on the protubeiance of the buckler, — » rav, » I'ri rot; — " Bring it back, my son, as thy trophy; or be brought back upon it as thy bier." I am particularly pleased, said Theron, with the contrivance of this last ornament. It is regulated by one of the most refined rules of art. Not to lavish away all the beau- ty at a single view, but to m<:ke a skilful reserve for some future occasion. The dome and the columns afiord pleasure, when be- held at a considerable distance ; the fine animated figure in the midst displays its graces on a nearer approach : by which means the attention is kept awake, and the entertainment continues new. But what I principally admire, is the spi- rit or style of the decorations in general. They put me in mind of a very just remark, which Mr. Pope has somewheie made. It • As soon as the soldiers were masters of the toivn, (Narva), they fell to plunder, and pave themselves up to themost enormousbarbarities. The Czar ran from place to place, to put a stop to the disorder and mas- sacre. He was even obliged to kill with his own hand several Muscovites who did not hearken to hi« or- ders.— VoiTAiRt's llitt. Chuilcf A'ii. 426 TIIERON AND ASPASIO. is, if I remember right, to this effect : " A man not only shows his taste, but his vir- tue, in the choice of his ornaments. A pro- per piece of history, represented in painting on a rich man's walls, (or exhibited in ima- gery amidst his gardens,) is very often a better lesson than any he could teach by his conversation. In this sense, the stones may be said to speak, when men cannot, or uill not." All but the comparative or sa- tirical part of the observation, I would ap- ply to the prospect before us, and its wor- thy owner. Asp. Philenor's gardens, are, I think, more chaste and delicate in their ornaments, than a certain collegiate church. In the latter place, we might reasonably expect the strict- est adherence to purity, if wc should not meet with the symbols of piety and incite- ments to religion. What then would be the reflections of a judicious observer, if, in such a solemn and venerable edifice, he should see a huge brawny fellow stuck up against the wall, with his posteriors half bare, his whole body more than half naked, and in an attitude none of the most decent?* Ex- cuse me, Theron. I confess myself asham- ed even to rehearse the description. How then can the spectacle itself become the house of divine worship .'' T/ier. But perhaps this same brawny fel- low may represent a Heathen demigod ; one of the idols worshipped by antiquity ; the tutelary deity of valour. Asp. And will this justify the practice? Does not this add profaneness to immodes- ty ? Are we Christians to thank Hercules for the valour of our warriors, and make our acknowledgment to Pallas for the conduct of our generals ? Shall we, (Christians, be- hold with admiration, or recognise as our benefactors, what the apostle h:is stigma- tized under the character of " devils ?" I Cor. X. 20. If he who overthrew the tables of the money-changers, had taken a walk in these famous cloisters, I am apt to suspect he would have paid no very agreeable compli- ment to this fine piece of statuary. " Take these things hence," would probably have been his command ; and, " make not the precincts of your temple a chamber of Pa- gan imagery," his rebuke. John ii. 16. Nei- ther is it at all unlikely, that the image it- self, notwithstanding its inimitable work- manship, might have shared the fate of its kinsman Dagon, • Referring to the monument lately erected for Major General Fleming, in Westminster Abbey ; where, under the General's bust, are placed Hercules and Pallas. Hercules with his club and lion's skin, in the manner i elated above ; Pallas, with a mirror and serpent at her side. The reader may see a pic- ture and an explanation of this n)onumciit in the Gcmlonau's Migaxinc for August 1754. When the captive ark Maim'd his brute image, head and hands lopp'd ofT In his own temple, on the groundsell edge When he feil flat, and shamed his worshippers. Milton, i. 458. Tlier. But how should the artist re- present the great achievements and the shining qualities of his hero, if 3'ou will not allow him to make use of these significant emblems ? Asp. I question whether they are so very significant. The mirror seems to charac- terise a fop, rather than a soldier. It leads us to think of a soft Narcissus, admiring himself; rather than a sagacious general, planning the operations of the campaigii. Besides, is sacred literature so destitute of proper emblems, that we must borrow the decorations of our churches and the trophies of our conquerors from the dreams of su- perstition, or the delusions of idolatry? How just and expressive are those emble- matical representations, exhibited in Eze- kiel's vision ? where activity and speed are signified by hands in conjunction with wings ; and the deep, the complicated, yet ever har- monious schemes of Providence, by " a wheel in the middle of a wheel." With what propriety and force are the noblest en- dowments pictured in the revelations of St. John and their grand machinery ! Superior wisdom, and benevolence of heart, are de- scribed by the face of a man ; strength of mind, and intrepidity of spirit, by the visage of a lion; calmness of temper and indefa- tigable application, by the features of an ox ; a penetrating discernment, and an expedi- tious habit of acting, by the form of "a fly- ing eagle." Rev. iv. 7. These hieroglyphics are graceful, are per tinent, and such as every spectator will un- derstand. Whereas the devices of our new monumental encomium are, I presume, to the unlearned, hardly intelligible ; to the serious little better than profane ; and to every be- holder, indelicate, if notimmodest. Philenor, I imagine, would blush to admit them into his walks or avenues. And I am sorry to find them received into the most ancient," most renowned, and most frequented church in the kingdom. Talking in this manner, they come to a curious grove, formed on that uncommon plan, proposed by Mr. Addison, in one of his Spectators. It consisted wholly of ever- greens. Firs clad in verdant silver, pointed their resinous leaves, and shot aloft their towering cones. Laurels arrayed in glossy green, spread their ample foliage, and threw abroad their rambling boughs. Bay-trees * Some antiquarians trace back the origin of this church even to the reign of Lucius; which is more than the space of 1500 years. Others suppose that Sebert, King of the East-Saxons, about the year of our Lord, G(t5, built the first religious structureon this spot. All agree that it was re-edified and enlarg- ed by Edward the Confessor, and that the present state- ly and magnificent fabric was foimdcdby Henry III. DIALOGUE XVI. 427 were exiiaiided into a fan, that no weather could tarnish ; or rounded into a column, that knew not how to moulder. While the lauristinus ran out into a beautiful irregula- rity of shape ; and compacted her reddening gems, in order to unfold her whitening bloom. In one place lay a dale, gently sinking, and coated with the chamomile's natural frieze, which never changes its colour, never loses its gloss. Near it, and scooped, you would imagine, from the same hollow, arose a mount, softly swelling, and shagged with furze, gay witli ncicniiial verdure, and ge- nerally decked « ith golden blossoms. Here you are led through a serpentine walk and hedges of box ; and find perhaps a solitary pyramid or a capacious urn ; each composed of unfading yew. — There you look through a strait alley ; fenced on either side, and arched overhead with mantling philyra ; and see at the extremity, an obelisk sheathed in ivy, and ornamented with its sable clus- ters as with wreaths of living sculpture. Scattered up and down were several sorts of holly; some stripped with white, some spot- ted with yellow, some preparing to brighten and beautify the scene with berries of glow- ing scarlet. The heads of the trees, arising one above another, in a gradual slope, from the dimi- nutive mazerean to the lofty cypress ; the several shadings of their green attire, greatly diversified, and judiciously intermixed, af- ford, especially in the winter season, a most enlivened and lovely prospect. As the sun- shine is, by the frequenters of this grove, usually more coveted than the shade ; it is so disposed as to admit, in one part or another, every gleam of fine weather which exhilar- ates the winter. Alp. There mustbe something unspeakably pleasing in a plantation, which appears lively and fruitful when all its neighbours of the woodland race are Ijarren, bleak, or dead ; but how much more cheering and delightful must it be, when decrepit age or bodily infirmities have impaired the vigour and laid waste the gratifications of our youthful prime, to find a solid undecaying pleasure in the favour of God and the hope of glory I Now, indeed, the feathered tribes resort to the more flow- ing umbrage of the po])lar and the ash ; but amidst December's cold, you shall observe them forsaking the leafless woods, and flock- ing to this friendly receptacle ; hopping acioss the sunny walks, or sheltering them- selves, in the wet and stormy day, under these trusty boughs. So the many thought- less creatures, who turn their back upon re- ligion amidst the soft and soothing caresses of prosperity, will want, extremely want, its sovereign supports under the sharp and dis- tressing assaults of adversity, sickness, and death. This collection, it is true, may not equal the groves of annual verdure in Acrid- ity of dress ; but it far exceeds them in the duration of its ornaments. Ere long, yon- der showy branches will be strijit of their holiday clothes ; whereas, these will retain their honours, when those are all rags, or nakedness. Thus will it be with every re- fuge for our poor, imperfect, sinful souls ; excepting only the righteousness of our Lord Jesus Christ. Every thing else will " fade as a leaf," Isa. Ixiv. 6. This, my Theron, and this alone is an evergreen ; al- ways free for our acceptance, and always ef- fectual to save. Ther. An evergreen it is. But, like the ruddy and inviting fruits which hang on the uppermost boughs of those lofty trees in the orchard, it seems to be quite out of my reach. Asp. Are you sensible .that you need the immaculate and perfect righteousness of our Saviour ? Ther. Was Jonah sensible how much he needed the cooling shelter of his gourd, when the sun smote fiercely upon his tem- ples, and all the fervours of the fiery east were glowing around him ? So is your Ther- on sensible, that without a far better righte- ousness than his own, he must inevitably be condemned by the sentence of the law, and cannot possibly stand before the high and holy God. Asp, Remember then what our Lord says to such persons ; " Come unto me all ye that are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest," Matth. xi. 28. How gra- cious is the invitation ? Come unto me, the Father of compassions, and the Giver of every good gift. How extensive as well as gracious ! All that are " weary," ( Korsoyfis,) toiling in a fruitless pursuit of happiness, and spending your labour for that which satisfieth not. All that are " heavy laden," (IJ--<^ii^Tiirfiiv/!s,^ oppressed with the servitude of sin, or bowed down under a load of mi- sery. These, all these are called, and you my friend, in the number. They have not a ticket, a bond, or some inferior pledge to ascertain their success : but they have a promise from faithfulness and truth itself. " I will give you rest," says the strength of Israel, whose will is fate, and his word the basis of the universe. And if Christ will give you rest, he will wash you in that blood which atones, and invest you with that righteousness which justifies ; since nothing short of these mercies can afford any satis- faction to the guilty conscience, or true sa- tisfaction to the restless soul Permit me to ask farther, Do you earnestly desire this righteousness ? Ther. Will yonder hirelings, when fatigued with the heat and burden of a long, labor- ious, sultry day, desiie the shades of the evening, and the repose of the night ? I can .truly on this occasion, adopt the words of the prophet : " The desire of my soul is to 428 THERON AND ASPASIO thy name," blessed Jesus, " and to the re- membrance" of thy righteousness. The very mention of this spotless righteousness is music to my ears. Every fresh, though distant discovery of it, gleams pleasure upon my mind- And that would be a welcome day. a day greatly to be distinguished, which should bring it near to my view, and home to my soul. Asp. Say not then, my dear friend, that Christ, and the blessings of his purchase, are beyond your reach. They are now, even now at your door. You need not argue anxiously and despondingly, " Who shall ascend into heaven, to bring down Christ from above ? or, who shall descend into the deep, to bring up Christ from beneath ?" Rom. X. 6, 7. There is no such impossi- bility, no such difficulty in the thing. Christ and his righteousness, Christ and his salvation, are brought nigh in the word of promise. And " if thou shalt confess with thy mouth the Lord Jesus" as dying on the cross for thy redemption ; " if thou shalt believe in thy heart, that God hath raised him from the dead" for thy justification, " thou shalt be saved," Rom. x. 9. In so doing, thou shalt receive remission of sin, and power to withstand its temptations. Have you never, in your travels, been overtaken by the dark and tempestuous night? When, chilled with the cold, and almost drowned in the rain, you arrived at the house of some valued fi'iend, was you not willing to gain admittance ? Ther. W^illing ! I was desirous, I was almost impatient ? I thought every moment an hour till the hospitable door opened — till I exchanged the dismal gloom and the driving storm, for the cheeiful light and the amiable company within. Asp. The adored Emmanuel professes himself equally willing to come unto you. " Behold !" says the Saviour of the world, " I stand at the door, and knock- If any man hear my voice, and open the door, I will come in unto him, and will sup with him, and he with me." Rev- iii. 20. Like one exposed to all the inclemencies of the air, whose " head is filled with dew, and his locks with the drops of the night," Cant. V. 2, he is not only willing, but desirous to enter. " He stands at the door," with great long-suffering and perseverance, till all obstacles are removed, or rather till that one grand obstacle is taken out of the way, unbelief. " He knocks," by the preaching of his word, and the piomise of his gospel, like one who solicits admission, and will take no denial. Hear then his soliciting voice, and "he will sup with you;" will make his abode with you, will manifest his glories in you, and communicate his grace to you. Believe his promising word, and "you your distressed soul, as the mcst sumptuous banquet to the famished stomach and crav- ing appetite. Ther. I cannot open my heart. Asp. Christ has the key of David. " He openeth, and none can shut ; he shutteth, and none can open." Rev. iii. 7. He is able to make all grace, not only to exist in you, but abound towards you, 2 Cor. ix. 8, and what is still more encouraging, he is professedly " the author and finisher of our faith." Heb. xii. 2. Since he has claimed this character to himself, since he has un- dertaken to execute this office, why should we harbour the least distrust? Will he not fulfil his own office, and act agreeably to his own character ? Be not, my dear Theron, be not faithless, but believing. Ther. This I believe — that I am a lost sinner ; under the curse of the law, and li- able to the wrath of God ; that there is no relief for my distress but in Christ and his transcendent merits. He, and he alone, is able to save me fi'om my guilt, and all its dismal train of miseries. He is a Saviour fully proportioned to my wants ; exactly suited to my several necessities. I believe, and am persuaded, that if I was interested in the divine Jesus, my soul should live. Asp. Be persuaded likewise, that there is no clogging qualification, no worth to be possessed, no duty to be performed, in or- der to your full participation of Christ and his riches. Only believe, and they are all your own. " Christ dwelleth in our hearts" — how ? by legal works, and laborious pre- requisites ? No; but "by faith." Eph. iii. 17. " He thit believeth on the Son, hath" — a chimerical? far from it — a real and a sub- stantial happiness, even "everlasting life." John iii. 36. Ther. Ah ! my Aspasio ! I cannot be- lieve- I feel my impotency. My mind is, as you formerly hinted, like the withered arm. Asp. It is no small advantage, Theron, to be convinced of our inability in this re- spect. This is, if not the beginning of faith, the sign of its approach ; and shows it to be, if not in the soul, yet at the very door. Fear not, my friend. He who bids you stretch out, will strengthen the withered arm. He first makes us sensible of our weakness, and then " fulfils all the good pleasure of his will, and the work of faith with power." 2 Thess. i. H. Can you doubt of his willingness ? Then go to Mount Calvary. There listen to the sounding of his bowels, and of his mer- cies towards you." Isaiah Ixiii. 15. Has not every drop of blood a tongue ? Cannot you read a language in each streaming wound, and hear a voice in every dying pang ? Do they not all speak his infinite ove even to wretched siimers ? Do they shall sup with jiim ;" this will be refreshing to j not all address you with that tender rcinon- DIALOGUE XVI. strance, " O thon of little faith, wherefore dost thou doubt ?" Matt. xiv. 31. Nay, do they not all declare, with an energy su- perior to the force of words, that he will deny you no manner of thing that is good ? Who gave his blood, what gift will he withhold ? 429 Tlier. I am ashamed to recollect, what mistaken notions I once entertained con- cerning the easiness of believing ; as though it were to be performed, like the act of ris- ing from our seat, or stepping into a coach, by our own strength, and at our own time. What a stranger was I then to the blind- ness of my understanding, and the hardness of my heart ; to my bondage under unbe- lief, and averseness to the way of salvation " by grace through faith !" Asp. Since you are sensible of your im- potence, beware of the contrary extreme. Because you cannot by your own strength exercise faith, let not this occasion a tame resignation of yourself to infidelity. You must endeavour, diligently endeavour, to believe ; and wait, and pray, for the divine Spirit. Though it is his office to testify of Christ, " and bring near the Redeemer's righteousness," Isa. xlvi- 1 ; yet his influ- ences are not to supersede, but to encourage our own efforts. " Work out your own salvation with fear and trembling ;" here is our duty. •' For it is God that worketh in you both to will and to do, Phil. ii. 12, 13; here is our encouragement : and O what a glorious encouragement, to have the arm of Omnipotence stretched out for our support and our succour ! Ther. How, or in what manner, does the divine Spirit work faith in the heart of a sinner? You wonder, perhaps, that I ask such a question. But my apprehensions are strangely dull, and my views very dim, with regard to spiritual things. If in this respect I have any sight, it is like his who " saw men as trees walking ;" saw these several objects, but so obscurely, so confusedly, that he could not distinguish one from the other, only by the circumstance of motion. Asp. The most enlightened minds see only in part ; and all have reason to make the blind beggar's supplication their own re- quest : " Lord, that I may receive my sight!" The operation of the Holy Spirit in pro- ducing faith, is thus described by a master in Israel : " The divine Spirit brings Christ and his righteousness nigh unto us in the promise of the gospel ; clearing at the sanie time our right and warrant to intermeddle with all, without fear of vitious intromission ; encouraging and enabling to a measure of confident application, and taking home all to ourselves, freely, without money, and without price." You was once, Theron, a zealous advo- cate for good works. Now you seem to have abandoned yonr clients. "Remember, my dear friend, what our Lord Jesus Christ says, John iv. 29, " This is the work of .God," of all works most acceptable and most honourable to the divine Majesty, " that you believe on him whom he hath sent." Ther. The true belief, according to your notion, Aspasio, is so refined and exalted a virtue, that I very much question whether I shall be ever able to attain it. Asp. If you are unable to attain it, is the Lord unable to give it ? Our sufficiency for this and every good work, is not in our- selves, but in God. And to him difficul- ties are easy : Before him mountains are a plain. You will please to remember, that sinners are said to believe, not through their own ability, but through the power of grace : and you will permit me to ask, how you became acquainted with my notion of faith ? Ther. I am not so inattentive a reader of your letters, as to forgei your definition of this momentous article. Faith, you say, " is a real persuasion, that the blessed Jesus has shed his blood for me, and fulfilled all righteousness in my stead ; that through this great atonement and glorious obedience he has purchased, even for my sinful soul, reconciliation with God, sanctifying grace, and all spiritual blessings."* Asp. I am obliged to you, Theron, for the honour you do my letter ; and I hope you will pay an equal regard to the deter- mination of our church. You once appre- hended that my attachment to the church of England was unsettled and wavering. Judge now who has most thoroughly imbibed her doctrines, and is most invariably tenacious of her true interests. In the first part of the Homily concerning the Sacrament, we have this definition of faith : " It is a belief, not only that the death of Christ is availa- ble for the remission of sins, and reconcili- ation with God, but also that he made a full and sufficient sacrifice for thee, a perfect cleansing for thy sins."f My notion of faith, you see, is evidently the voice of the establishment ; and I think * See Letter X. Here is, it must be acknowledged, ;a total omission of all preparatory or rather impulsive dispositions; such as convictions of sin, and hunger- ing after salvation. Here is likewise a total silence concerning all causes, instrumental or efRcient, such as the power of the divine Word, and the agency of the divine Spirit. No mention is made of the fruits or concomitants ; such as love to Christ, love of the brethren, or purity of heart. Nothing is exhibited to view but the form and essence of faith, or that par- ticular act which characterises and constitutes real faith, which distinguishes it from the hypocritical pretension and the historical notion. This simple view is given, that the mind may fix upon the grand point, and not be embarrassed with a multiplicity of ideas. , , . . |- Answerable to this was the doctrine of the pnmi- tive church ; H "Xfris litoftmrat tov 0sa». ClIKYSOST. 4.30 THERON AND ASPASIO. it gives us a clear intelligible sense, suited to the most common acceptation of the woid ; such as would naturally arise in the mind of a stranger, who, without any bias on his judgment, should inquire into the purport of oiu- religion, or consider the lan- guage of our Bible. Tlier. How suited to the most common acceptation of the word ? Asp. When you sent a message to your tenant, who, in his last sickness, expressed so much uneasiness on account of his nu- merous family and embarrassed circumstan- ces, assuring him that you had cancelled the bond and forgiven his debt : when you told the poor woman, whose husband fell from the loaded waggon, and broke both his legs, that you would order a surgeon to attend him, and would continue his weekly pay ; how did they regard, how receive your pro- mised kindness? — So let us credit the gra- cious declarations of our God, so accept his faithful promise, and then we shall answer the imjjort of the word — then we shall tru- ly believe. Ther. Where is there in Scripture any thing parallel or similar to these instances? ylsp. Have you never read the words of Micah, " Who is a God like unto thee, that pardoneth iniquity, and passeth by trans- gression ?" Micah vii. 18. Here is the gra- cious declaration. — " He will turn again ; he will have compassion upon us, he will subdue our iniquities," Micah vii. 19. Here is the faithful promise. — And why, my friend, why should we pay less credit to the ever-living Jehovah, than to a man, " whose breath is in his nostrils ?" Is there treach- ery with the Holy One of Israel? Does the Lord make, and then violate his promise ? " Ask now of the days that are past, ask from the one side of heaven unto the other, whether such a thing hath ever been?" Ther. God has never violated his pro- mise, when it was expressly made, and par- ticularly applied. But in this circumstance there is a wide difference between the case of your friend, and the case of his poor peo- ple. I named the object of my compassion in one of the instances, and made a personal application in the other ; Neither of which is done in the Scriptures. Asp- Though we are not particularly named, yet we are very exactly describ- ed, by our family, our inclination, our practice. What says eternal Wisdom, when she makes a tender of her inestimable bless- ings ? " To you, O men," not to fallen an- gels, " I call ; and my voice is" not to this man or that man exclusively, but " to the sons of men" indefinitely, Prov. viii. 4. What says the holy apostle, when he pub- lishes the counsels of heaven ? " This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all accepta- tion, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save," — the upright? the unblamable ? Was this the case, our hopes would be co- vered with a cloud, or rather totally and ti- nally eclipsed. But see ! they are clear as the light, and conspicuous as the noon-day. For he came (cheering, charming word!) he came to save sinners. 1 Tim. i. 15. Consonant to all which is the declaration of another sacred envoy: " He," the prince of Peace, the monarch of the universe, " suffered" — for whom ? They in whose be- half this matchless ransom was paid, must have an undeniable right to look upon re- demption as their own : And blessed, for ever blessed be God, it is most peremptor- ily said, he suffered — for the unjust," I Pet. lii. 18. That no part of our character might be omitted, and no part of our miseiy pass un- relieved, it is farther declared, " When we were without strength, Christ died for the ungodly," Rom. v. 6. When we wei'e un- godly, and considered only as ungodly crea- tures ; neither possessed of any thing amia- ble, nor having the least ability to acquire it ; nay, when we were chargeable with the most horrid guilt, and incapable of expiat- ing a single offence ; then, even then, Christ died — and for such abominable wretches he died. Are we not of the human family ? Are we not unjust,* Rom. v. 6, towards our fellow- creatures, and ungodly towards our great Creator? Are we not in all rela- tions, and in every respect, sinners? If we are (and upon these questions incredulity itself will scarcely demur,) let us not fro- wardly reject, rather let us thankfully re- ceive those spiritual treasures, which, by virtue of the afore-cited conveyance, belong to such people ; which, by several other clauses in the will and testament of our crucified Lord, evidently devolve to such persons. Ther. Is it possible, Aspasio ? Can we be warranted and eircouraged to receive these treasures, in a capacity and under a denomination, which I should think more likely to exclude us, disinherit us, and over- throw all our pretensions ? Asp. This may seem strange, but it is true. All the blessings of the gospel proceed upon a supposition of sinfulness. Christ is made wisdom unto his people ; but what occasion for the accession of wisdom, unless it be in the case of ignorance and folly ? Christ is made righteousness ; but who can stand in need of a justifying right- eousness, if they are not in themselves un- profitable and guilty ? Christ is made sancti- fication ; and does not this imply a state of corruption to be remedied, a body of sin to « He is unjust towards his neighbour, who neglerts to love his neighbour as himself. And if this is tlie standard, who has not fallen short ? DIALOGUE XVI. 4rA be destroyed ? Christ is made redemption, and from what are persons redeemed but from chains and bondage, from misery and ruin, from all manner of evil? It is also a most precious and invaluable truth ; such as I would hold fast, and never, never let go. When I search for my own endowments, I find nothing that I dare ven- ture to plead, being in my best moments, and amidst my choicest duties, a sinner. As this is, at all times, my undoubted cha- racter, I have at all times an undoubted warrant to say. The imcreated Wisdom call- etli me ; the blessed Jesus came to save me ; the great Messiah suffered death for me. Let me illustrate the point. Romulus, you know, the founder of the Roman em- pire, was a poor prince, had but a handful of subjects, and very scanty territories. What expedient could he devise to enlarge the boundaries of the one, and augment the number of the other ? He issued a procla- mation, addressed to outlaws and criminals, all that were involved in debt or obnoxious to punishment, promising that as many as would settle under his dominion, should be seciu-ed from prosecution, and vested with considerable privileges. — We will suppose a person in those distressed circumstances. Upon hearing the welcome invitation, he hangs down his head, and, with a dejected air, cries, " I am a debtor, I am a criminal, and therefore unworthy of the royal jjrotec- tion." What answer should be made to such a dispirited complainer ? Make the same to yourself, whenever you are inclined to renew the present objections : Remem- bering, that the infinite and eternal Sove- reign, to display the magnificence of his majesty, and manifest the riches of his goodness, has commissioned his ambassadors to publish in every nation under heaven, " That all unhappy sinners, who are op- pressed by the devil, and liable to damna- tion, may come to Christ, and rely on Christ ; may in this manner obtain pardon, righteousness, and all the privileges of child- ren." TTier. At this rate, the vilest miscreants have as clear, nay, have the very same warrant to believe in Christ, and receive his salva- tion, as the highest saints. Asp. The very same. In this respect there is no difference. All have sinned, and must sue for spiritual blessings, not as deserving, but as guilty creatures ; must re- ceive them, not as the recompense of their own worth, but as the issues of infinite mercy. The vilest miscreants are blinded by the devil, and enslaved to their lusts : therefore they see no beauty in a Saviour, that they should desire him. Whereas when the divine Spirit opens their eyes, and in- clines their hearts, they discover and make use of just tiic same right to Christ and his merit as the highest saints ; — a right found- ed not on their awakened desires, not on any thing in themselves, but purely, solely, entirely, on the free grant of a Saviour. Should you ask the highest saints, on what their hopes are grounded ? This, or something to this effect, would be their re- ply: — " On the free exhibition of Christ and his salvation, recorded in the word of truth. There we find it written, ' To you," though Gentiles and idolaters, ' is preached the remission of sins." Acts xiii. 38. ' The promise is to you,' even to you, 'whose wicked hands have crucified and slain the Lord of life ;' and not to you only, but ' to all that are afar off, even as many as the Lord our God,' by the message of his everlasting gospel, ' shall call. '* We remember, Theron, though you seem to have forgotten, the wretched outcast, polluted in its blood, yet accepted by the Holy One of Israel. We remember the heavenly gifts, received by the triumphant Redeemer, for enemies, and for the rebellious. Nor can we easily for- get the promise of forgiveness which was made, and the blessings of forgiveness which was vouchsafed, even to the murderers of the Lord of glory, "f Ther. This is a pleasing supposition. But it would be more satisfactory, if yoii should produce any of the saints speaking in this manner. yisp. Isaiah, you will allow, was a saint of no inferior rank : Yet he breathes the spirit I am describing, and acts the part I am vindicating. Turn to that epitome of the gospel, his fifty-third chapter. There you may observe him claiming a share in the greatest of all privileges, salvation through the blood of Christ. How does he advance and maintain his claim ? Not in the capaci- ty of a sanctified, but under the character of a sinful person. These are his words ; " The Lord hath laid on him," on his Son Jesus Christ "the iniquity of us all," Isa.liii. 6. Of me, and of my brethren in piety, does he mean ? No ; but of me and of my fellow- transgressors. This is evidently implied in the clause 1 have quoted. In the preceding part of the verse, the prophet explains him- self, and leaves no room for hesitation. " All we like sheep have gone astray, we have turned every one to his own ways ;" yet our transgressions, our iniquities, the God of all mercy has transferred from us, and * Acts ii. 39. Call— in the same manner as he call- ed those to whom Peter spake ; which evidently means, not the inward efficacious call, wrought by the Spirit, but the outward call, delivered m the word. Otherwise, we must suppose every individual person in this promiscuous assembly to be savingly changed ; which will hardly be credited by those who remember, that the congregation consisted of mock- ers, murderers, and sinners. \ Referring to Dialogue XV. 4n-2 THERON AND ASPASIO. charged upon our Redeemer. As the vilest miscreants are indispensably obliged to confess the former, they have a free and full right to profess, to assert^ and to believe the latter. At this you may probably wonder; at this we ought all to wonder! this is that amazingly rich grace, which will be the wonderof saints and angels through a boundless eternity. Yet, though we wonder, let us not murmur- Let not the elder brother repine, because the young prodigal enters at the same door, and is admitted to the same table with him- self. To this testimony of the saints, shall I add the decision of their King? " God so loved the world," even the fallen, the wick- ed, the apostate world, that, in the fulness of time, " he gave his only begotten Son," John iii. 16, to bring in a perfect righteous- ness, and obtain eternal redemption. And he still gives him, with ail his saving bene- fits, in the promise of the gospel- Titer. Does this general gift warrant a siimer to make a particular application of all to himself. Asp. It warrants, it demands, and in other instances obtains a particular applica- tion. When Jonah, in pursuance of the divine command, " cried and said, Yet forty days, and Nineveh shall be overthrown ;" lliere was no particular mention of man, wo- man, or child. Neither the king, nor the nobles, nor the commons were specified. Much less was each and every inhabitant threatened by name. Nevertheless, this general denunciation alarmed them all ; was influential on them all. Insomuch that " the people of Nineveh believed God, and pro- claimed a fast, and put on sackloth, from the greatest of them even to the least." Jonah iii. 5. They believed ; hence we learn the true nature of believing : " God speaks to me, and what he speaks he will perform ;" is its genuine profession. Hence we like- wise discover who they are which ought in this manner to apply the general word, " All, from the least even unto the greatest, believ- ed." Ther- The case is not parallel, Aspasio. This was a denunciation of vengeance, not a promise of grace. Asp- And can you suppose that God is more liberal of vengeance than he is com- municative of grace ?Vengeanceishisstrange work, but in mercy and loving kindness he delighteth. Are we bound to believe and apply his dreadful threatenings ? not allowed to believe and apply his precious promises ? Surely the Lord's ways are not so unequal. When the law says, " Cursed is every one that continueth not in all things," Gal. iii. 10, should not every hearer take this to himself, and submit to the sentence of just condemnation? When the gospel says, " He came to save that which was lost," Mattfr, xviii- 11, should not every hearer take this also to himself, and embrace the tender of free salvation. However, if you dislike my instance, I will give you another ; which is not of the vindictive, but of the beneficent kind When the manna made its first appearance in the wilderness ; when the Israelites knew neither what it was, nor for whom intended ; both these particulars were explained by Moses : " This is the bread which the Lord hath given you to eat." Exod. xvi. 15. No mention is made of any individual person. Yet the whole congregation looked upon this as an undoubted permission, both for themselves and their children, to gather, to fetch home, and to use the miraculous food. And here, Theron, here lies the principal difference between the vile miscreant, and the exalted saint : not that the one was originally better than the other ; not that the one has a clearer grant of Christ than the other ; but the latter has gathered the heavenly manna, and uses it to his unspeak- able advantage: whereas it lies roundabout the tents of the former; and whoever will, may take, may eat, and his soul shall live. Ther. God gave the manna to all the Is- raelites, both good and bad. But does he give Christ with this unlimited freeness ? Asp. Our Lord himself, alluding to this very miracle, vouchsafes you an answer: " My Father giveth you the true bread from heaven," John vi. 32. My Father giveth you his incarnate Son, and his divinely ex- cellent righteousness- These are bread in- deed; bread which came down from the regions of heaven; and bread which nourish- eth the soul for the joys of heaven. This my Father giveth you ; though not in actual possession, yet in right to possess. This he giveth you, in the free indefinite grant of • his word ; without which grant, any attempt to possess, even in the most upright of men, would be illegal and presumptuous ; by vir- tue of which grant, even the poor sinner has an unquestionable warrant to receive and possess the riches of Christ- Ther. Unquestionable ! is not this expres- sion too peremptory ? That such a grant should be made to believers, I can easily conceive : But is it made to sinners — to any sinners — to the most abandoned sin- ners? Asp. Yes, Theron, to sinners. And when sinners receive the grant, then they commence believers. Was it made to be- lievers only, no man living would inherit the blessing; because all men are, by the de- pravity and impotence of their nature, ori- ginally concluded under sin and unbelief. What said our Lord? My Father giveth you ; that is, the people who stood around and heard his gracious voice ; many of whom DIALOGUE XVI. 433 were in a canuil state liabitually, and even then were in a murmuring wicked frame. John vi. 2(5, 41. What says his prophet? " To us a Son is given," not to us who were antecedently ehildren of the light, but who " walk in darkness, and dwell in the shadow of death," Isa. ix. 2, 6. What saith God the Lord, he that created the heavens, and stretched them out ? " I will give thee," meaning his beloved Son, " for a covenant;" it is not said, of believers, but " of the peo- ple ;" it is not said, of new creatures, but " of the Gentiles ;" who Avere the vilest of all creatures, or, as you have properly spoke, the most abandoned sinners. That we may understand more clearly the signification of these terms, and see the true extent of this gift, it is added, 1 will give thee " to open the blind eyes, and to bring out the prison- ers from the prison," Isa. xlii. 6, 7. Misera- ble and guilty wretches, blinded by the de- vil, and enslaved to their lusts ; these are the patentees in the heavenly grant. To these the great Surety is given, together with all the benefits of his covenant. Here then the grant and the gift are men- tioned ; the persons for whom they arc designed are specified, and expressly named. They are sinners ; blinded and enslaved sin- ners ; or, if thcrebeanyothermore obnoxious sort, they are all comprehended in this one word. Gentiles. Only allow these texts to be true ; only allow the divine speaker to be sincere and faithful ; then we may bold- ly affirm, that any, that every poor sinner is authorized to say, " God gives me his Son, to be my covenant-surety. I take him at his word. The Surety and all his merits are mine." Divinely rich bounty ! O let us not refuse what, on this consideration, the un- erring Spirit, calls "our own mercy." Jonah ii. 8. Let us adore the beneficence of our God; let us believe hi s'promi sing word; and in this sweet, this easy manner, obtain both present and final salvation. Ther. Let me recollect ; — Christ is given for the world, the apostate world, to believe on : Christ has died, not for the righteous, but for the ungodly : Christ came in the flesh to save sinners, even the chief of sin- ners. Well, Aspasio, if these things are true, (and how can they be otherwise, since they are the express doctrine of scripture ?) it is pity but they were more generally known. For my part, I must confess, they are not only new, but strange to me. Though I have read them in the Bible, yet when I come to consider' them, and com- pare them with what passes in my breast, I find they are quite contraiy to my usual ways of thinking. Asp. You remind me of a valuable per- son, whom I once numbered among my ac- quaintance, and whose way of thinking was somewhat similar to your o^vn. Will you give me leave to relate his case ? Ther. Most gladly. It will be some kind of consolation to hear that others have laboured under the same difficulties with myself, and been subject to the same dis- tresses. If I am informed of their deliv- erance from those distresses, it will be like showing me an opened door for effecting my own escape. If I am likewise acquainted with the manner of their deliverance, this will furnish me with a clue to guide my steps. Asp. This person was roxised from a habit of indolence and supineness, into a serious concern for Iiis eternal welfiire. Convinced of his depraved nature and ag- gravated guilt, he had recourse to the scrip- tures, and to frequent prayer. He attended the ordinances of Christianity, and sought eamestly for an assured interest in Christ j but found no steadfast faith, and tasted very little comfort — At length he applied to aii eminent divine, and laid open the state of his heart. Short, but weighty, was the an- swer he received : " I perceive. Sir, the cause of all your distress. You do not, you will not, come to Christ as a sinner. This mistake stands between your soul and the joy of religion. This detains you in the gall of bitterness ; and take heed, O ! take heed, lest it consign you over to the bond of iniquity!" This admonition never departed from the gentleman's mind ; and it became a happy means of removing the obstructions to his peace. Remember this little history, Theron ; and may it prove as efficacious for your good, as it is pertinent to your circum- stances ! Remember, that the free grant of Christ, made in the word of truth, and ad- dressed to sinners of mankind, is the only basis and groimd-work of faith. An apos tie, after all the labours of his exemplary life, can have no better. And a Magda- lene or a Manasseh, as a motive and en- couragement for their turning to the Lord, have the very same. But we digress from the principal sub- ject. Since you disapprove my account of faith, I must desire you to favour me with a description more correct and unexception- able ; For, as you justly observed, this is a very momentous article. Is not Christ the source of all spiritual good, and faith the main channel of conveyance ? Surely then it should be made and kept as clear as pos- sible. Is not Christ the foundation of all true godliness, and faith the master-arch in this sacred structure ? Surely then it should be raised and turned with the ut- most care. Ther, Palremon's account is this — Faith, he says, is a fiim persuasion, that Jesus 2 F 434 THERON AND ASPASIO. Christ has shed his blood, and fulfilled all righteousness ; has sustained the punishment due to sin, and obtained full reconciliation w-ith God : that all this grace, and each of these benefits, are free, perfectly free— for you, for me, for others. In consequence of this persuasion, the sinner flies to Christ, comes to Christ, and trusts in Christ for his own salvation. Asp. I have the highest regard for Paloe- mon's judgment ; and I cannot but think my opinion is confirmed even by his. The act of flying to Christ, is an appropriating act. It implies an intention to get out of danger ; it implies a discovery of Christ as the appointed safety ; and consists in mak- ing use of him as such. How can this be done, but by a persuasion that he is mine ? That his sufferings were in my stead, and that his death is my safeguard ? What is meant by coming to Christ, we may learn from Jeremiah -. " Behold ! we come unto thee, for thou art the Lord our God." Jer. iii. 22. Coming, you see, includes a real persuasion that the Lord is our God. While we are wholly destitute of this per- suasion, we stand at a distance, and our souls are afar off. We are never brought nigh ; we never come, in the prophets sense, till we are taught to say, each one for himself, " Thou art the Lord my God. " The act of trusting in Christ is much of the same nature : It pre-supposes that Christ is the trustee of the covenant of grace ; it proceeds upon a conviction of his faithfulness in executing the office ; and it is a solemn surrender or giving up the whole affair of our salvation into his hand ; giving it up, not in uncertainty of success, (this would be mistrusting rather than trusting,) but with a certainty in some measure suit- able to the fidelity and ability of Him with whom we have to do. If you still are doubtful, whether any such persuasion is implied in trusting, let us choose a referee. Let us carry our controversy to the king of Israel. Inquire of David, why he trusts in the Lord, and what he means by trusting ? To both these inquiries he answers distinctly and fully : " The Lord is my high tower, my shield, and he in whom I trust," Psal. cxliv. 2. " He is — he is my shield ; of this I am persuad- ed, and therefore I trust in him : or, this I believe, and, in so doing, I trust on him." Ther. There is an air of assurance in your^representation of faith, which sounds harsh in my ear, and appears presumptuous in my eye. It is as if people pretended to know their seat in heaven before the judg- ment-day. Asp. The Papists, I own, take great of- fence at this expression, and utterly exjjlode this doctrine. But they are no infallible guides for us to fbllow ; neither are they very inviting patterns for us to imitate. You and I, Theron, cannot be offended at the expression or the doctrine, if we recol- lect what we have been taught in the first stage of life, and what is professed in the last scene of mortality. We are taught, even from our infancy, that the sacrament of the Lord's supper is not only a sign of spiritual grace, but a pledge to assure us thereof. At the interment of the dead, we profess our sure and certain hope of a re- surrection to eternal life. That this is al- ways applied, with due propriety, in our burial-service, I will not venture to assert ; that it sufficiently countenances my senti- ments, none will undertake to deny. And if this countenances, the apostle authorizes them, when he addresses us with this very remarkable exhortation : " Having there- fore, brethren, boldness to enter into the holiest by the blood of Jesus, let us draw near with a true heart in full assurance of faith ;" with a firm persuasion of acceptance; with a certain expectation of success. However, if you dislike the word assia-- ance, we will change it for the more soften- ed, and more modestly- sounding term ap. propriation. Ther. You change it for a more softened, not for a more intelligible term. I must desire to know what you mean by the word appropriation. Asp. To appropriate, in the theological sense, is to take home the grace of God, which lies in the common indefinite grant of the gospel. Is Christ the treasure hid in the field? To appropriate this treasure, is to receive and use it as our own portion. Is Christ the balm of Gilead, full of saving health ? To appropriate this balm, is to take and apply it for the recovery of our o\\n souls. And without such an appropriation, how can we either be enriched by the for- mer, or healed by the latter ? Let me farther explain my meaning, and exemplify the position, by considering Christ in his several offices. Christ, as a Priest, is made to guilty creatures righteousness. When we appropriate the grace of our great High Priest, this is the language of our hearts, " In the Lord have I righteousness." Isaiah xlv. 24. Christ, as a Prophet, is made to ignorant creatures wisdom. When we appropriate the benefits of our unerring Prophet, this is the persuasion of our souls, " Though I sit in darkness, the Lord will be a light unto me." Micah vii. 8. Christ, as a King, is made unto dej-zraved creatures sanctification. 'WTien we appropriate the munificence of our Almighty King, this is our comfortable trust, " The Lord will de- liver me from every evil work. " 2 Tim. iv. 1 8. This is what I mean by appropriation. That something of this kind is included in the essence of faith, is the sentiment I DIALOGUE XVI. 435 %Voiild maintain. Which sentiment might be confirmed, if such confirmation were de- manded, by a multitude of the most illus- trious witnesses ; witnesses &o illustrious, that they were a blessing to the world, 'and an honour to human nature ; so numerous, that, without giving an abstract of their tes- timonies, it might seem tedious only to re cite their names.* Ther. I will dispense with your recital of their names, only let me have a specimen of their testimonies. Asp, First, then, let me present you with Dr. Owen ; than whom England has produced few writers either more judicious or more devout. " Faith," he tells us in his catechism, "is a gracious resting upon the free promises of God in Jesus Christ for mercy, %vith a firm persuasion of heart that God is a reconciled Father to us in the Son of his love." Next let me introduce the learned and justly celebrated Altingius, professor of divinity at Heidelberg. " Faith," he says, " is a knowledge of the grace of God in Christ, together with a fiduciaiy re- liance on it, or an application of it to a man's own self." To these let me add the unanimous suffrage of the churches of the Palatinate. It is asked, in the twenty- first question of their public catechism, " What is true faith ?" To which this an- swer is returned. " It is not only an assent to all the truths which God hath revealed in his word ; but it is an assured trust, wrought by the Holy Spirit in my heart, that remission of sins, complete righteous- ness, and eternal life are given, freely given, not to others only, but to myself; and all this fro-m the mere mercy of God, through the alone merits of Christ. These testimonies are but as the'tythe to the If the reader should inquire after their names, he will find some of them enumerated in the following catalogue; — Luther, Calvin, Melancthon, Beza, Bul- linger, Bucer, Knox, Craig, Melvil, Bruce, Davidson, Forbes, &;c. Ursinus, Zanchius, Junius, Piscator, RoUock, Dan.xus, Wendelinus, chamierus, Sharpius, such a manner, from sucli passages, as shall Bodius, Parens, Altingius, Triglandii (Gisbertus and farther ascertain my representation of faith- whole crop. Yet these are more tnan enough to exempt me from the charge of singulari- ty. You will not wonder therefore, if I still abide by the good old Protestant doc- trine, which is espoused by so many of the ablest judges, which was the darling tenet of almost all our reformers ; which has been so signally instrumental in demolishing the superstitions of Popery ; and is so evident- ly conducive to the holiness and the happi- ness of Christians. Especially as I appre- hend, the determinations of scripture, and the experience of scriptural saints, are all on my side. TTier. You have now brought the cause to the proper bar. When a question so important is debated, and an interest so mo- mentous is concerned, I cannot acquiesce in any authority less than divine. I cannot, and indeed I think we ought not. Nothing should satisfy us on such an occasion but the word, which is unerring and decisive ; the word, by which we are to stand or fall etemally. Whence does it appear that the determinations of this divine word are on your side ? Asp. From the noblest description of faith which language itself can form. The writer to the Hebrews, having mentioned the life of faith, the perseverance of faith, and the end or reward of faith, proceeds to a definition of this leading grace, " Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence'of_^things not seen," Heb. xi. 1. " The evidence," exhibiting not a faint sur- mise, but a clear demonstration, both of in- visible blessings, and of our right to enjoy them. " The substance," realizing what is promised ; and giving us, as it were, a pos- session of good things that are remote, a present possession of good things that are future. TJier. What are those blessings, and these good things ? Asp. I will inform my Theron ; and in Jacobus,) Arnoldus, Maresius; the four professors at Leyden, WalliEus, Rivetus, Polyander, Thysius; WoUebius, Heidegerus, Essenius, Turrettinus, &c. Many eminent British divines; Bishops Babington, Davenant, Hall ; Messrs. Perkins, Pemble, Willet, Gouge, Rogers, Burgess, Owen, Marshall, &c. If we were apparently and demonstrably in an error, yet, to err with such company, and in the footsteps of such guides, must very much tend to mitigate the severity of censure. But, I believe, few serious per- sons will venture to charge error and delusion upon such a venerable body of Protestant divines ; so emi- nent for their learning, and so exemplary for their holiness ; whose labours were so remarkably owned by God, and whose sentiments, on this particular subject, have been adopted by so many reformed churches. The declarations of the English and Pala- tine churches are produced in the dialogue. I have in my hand an extract from the confessions and stan- dard doctrines of the church — of Scotland — of Ireland — of France — of Helvetia; with all which Aspasio has the happiness to agree. Only some of them are rnuch stronger in displaying and maintaining the spe- cial^'dwcia, or the appropriating persuasion of faith. To quote, them, would dignify and strengthen the cause. But, to avoid prolixity', I forego this advan- tage. What says the apostle of the Gentiles ? " I preached unto you the gospel," 1 Cor. xv. 1. And what is the substance of this evan- gelical dispensation ? " Christ died for our sins." 1 Cor. xv. 3. That so exalted a per- son as the Son of God, and Lord of glory, should die, is wonderful ! That he should die for sins, the "most abominable objects, and for sinners, the most detestable crea- tures, is abundantly more wonderful ! That he should die, not for sins in general, but for our sins in particular, this is inexpressibly wonderful ! and at the same time inexpress- ibly comfortable. Here we have the gos- pel and its capital blessing expressed in this proposition, " Christ died for our sins." Here we have faith and its principle acting expressed in this proposition, " Christ died y 436 THERON AND ASPASIO. for our sins." Till the former is preached, the doctrine is not gospel ; till the latter is be- lieved, it should seem, from St. Paul's ac- count, the conviction is not faith. Let me produce another instance, ex tracted, like the preceding, from the rolls of heaven : " This is the record, that God hath given to us eternal life," 1 John v. 1 1 , not proposed it, on I know not what condi- tion, but hath given — freely and fully, with- out any reserve, and with a liberality suited to his inconceivable goodness, hath given the richest of all prizes ; and not to some only, or to others, but to us, even to us. Ther. Us, that is, the apostles and exalt- ed saints. Asp. Was eternal life given them be- cause they were apostles ? No, verily ; but because Christ died for them. Did Christ die for them, because they were exalted saints ? In no wise ; but because they were miserable sinners. Eternal life was pur- chased for them when they were sinners. It was consigned over to them when they were sinners. And neither the purchase nor the gift were founded on their being saints, but aimed at making them so. That " Christ died for our sins ;" that " God hath given to us eternal life ;" these are the blessings of which faith is the evi- dence ; these the good things of which faith is the substance. This is the honey in the evangelical hive ; and I am at a loss to con- ceive how we can taste the honey, without some appropriation of the good things to ourselves. This, if 1 mistake not, is com- prehended in all those figurative descriptions of faith which occur in holy writ. Tlier. Favour me mth some of those de- scriptions. I begin to see a peculiar beau- ty, and an unequalled richness, in the figures of scripture. Nothing yields me a more refined pleasure, than to investigate and dis- cover the exact sense of those instructive images. It is somewhat like kindling the consecrated incense ; which, when rising in a flame, diffused light ; when spreading in clouds of fragrance, distributed refreshment. Asp. Faith is styled, " a looking imto Jesus." But if we do not look unto Jesus as the propitiation for our sins, what com- fort or what benefit can we derive from the sight ? "A receiving of Christ." But can I have any pretence to receive him, or take possession of his merits, unless I am convinced, that they are intended for me ? This is what neither the dictates of con- science ^vill allow, nor the laws of reason authorize. " A resting upon Christ."* But • I find two words in the original, which express the privilege and the duty of resting on Christ ; one implies such a state of acquiescence as silences the clamours of conscience, and composes the perturba- tion of the spirit ; the other signifies the refreshment and repose of a weary pilgrim, when he arrives at the end of his journey, and is settled for life in a secure, commodious, plentiful habitation. Psalm xxxvii, 7. Isa. xx.viii, 12. how can we rest on b surety, if he has not interposed on our behalf? or how confide in a payment, which we believe to be made for others, not for ourselves ? — Surely, The- ron, when I rest upon an object, I use it as my support : When I receive a gift, I take it as my owm property. And when the Israelites looked unto the brazen serpent, they certainly regarded it as a remedy, each particular person for himself. Ther. To cast ourselves upon Christ, as an all-sufficient Saviour ; and rely upon him for otu' whole salvation — is not this real faith ? This is what I heard some time ago from a celebrated pulpit. Asp. If you rely on the all-sufficiency of his will, as well as of his power ; if you take the comfort and appropriate the benefit resulting from both ; you practise the very thing I recommend. This is what was taught from the pulpit of infallibility ; and by those first of preachers, who spake as the Holy Ghost gave them utterance. Let the convinced sinner, and the afflicted soul, " trust in the name of the Lord, and stay upon his God." Let him not only rever- ence Christ as the incarnate God, and there-- fore mighty to save ; but look upon Christ as his God, and therefore willing to save. Thus let him " lean upon the Rock of ages," Isa. 1. 10, without hidulging a doubt concerning his right to make use of it, or the possibility of its failing him. To "cast ourselves upon Christ; to cast our burden," or " to cast all our care Ett/j- ^/•vZ-avTs,- upon the Lord ; 1 Pet. v. 7 ; are metaphors, which may receive some eluci- dation from an incident recorded in the Acts. When the mariners and passengers which sailed with St. Paul, saw their ves- sel shattered; saw the wavee prevailing; saw no hope of safety from continuing ia the ship ; they cast themselves A^o^^iyj/av- Tt; upon the floating planks. Acts xxvii. 43. They cast themselves upon the planks without any scruple, not questioning their right to make use of them ; and they cla\-e to those supporters with a cheerful confi- dence, not doubting but, according to the apostle's'promise, they should escape safe to land. Be this what ])eople mean when they speak of venturing or casting them- selves upon Christ, and I approve the ex- pression, I subscribe the doctrine. It speaks what I wish for my friend, for myself, and for my fellow-sinners. Let us shift our situation, and view the point hi another light. Consider the bless- ed and glorious object of om: faith. Christ is represented by the similitude of bread, heavenly bread for the hungry soul. Faith is characterised by eating the food. And can this be done without a personal applica- tion ? Christ is held forth under the image of living waters, ever running, and always DIALOGUE XVI. 437 free for the thirsty appetite. But let them run ever so copiously, let them be presented ever so freely, all this will neither quench the thirst, nor refresh the spirits, unless they are drank. To do this is the business of faith. Christ is described as a garment, to accommodate destitute, and beautify de- formed creatures. Faith is expressed by putting on this commodious garment, and wearing this beautiful robe. And can any idea, or any expression, more strongly de- note an actual appropriation ? Ther. It is evident, that many holy peo- ple, in former ages, were not possessed of assurance. What is the language of David ? It is all despondency : " I am cast out of the sight of thine eyes." To the same me- lancholy tune is the harp of Asaph strung : " Is his mercy clean gone for ever ? doth his promise fail for evermore ? The same jea- lous and distrustful air breathes j"n the com- plaint of the church. " The Lord hath for- saken me, and my Lord hath forgotten me." Why then should my Aspasio set up a rule stricter and higher than those eminent saints attained. Asp. You should rather ask, W^hy have the best judges, and the most exemplary Christians, in their several writings, set up this rule ? Why have the apostles of our Lord, and the Spirit of our God, speaking in the Bible, set up this rule ? To which I niiglit reply. Because it is, of all precepts, the most beneficial. Therefore they have not so much set it up under the notion of a strict rule, as they have set it forth under the character of a choice blessing. Your complaint, when put into its proper language, seems to run thus : " Why must we be obliged to trust in Christ alone ? Why must we be obliged to assure our- selves of salvation by him ?" Whereas, in- stead of a complaint, it should be matter of exultation, and we should rather express ourselves in this manner : " Bless the Lord, O my soul, that a sinner, such a vile sinner, should be allowed to take Christ and all his salvation as my own ; and thus to assure myself of pardon, holiness and glory." This blessing was certainly enjoyed by the holy men of old ; but, like every other species of felicity in this world, it was en- joyed after an imperfect manner. They had an assured persuasion of God's present fa- vour, and of their own final happiness. Nevertheless, this assured persuasion was liable to the assaults, both of outward temp- tations and of inward corruptions, which . might for a while impair its vigour, though not destroy its being ; as under a transient swoon the spirits fail, the colour departs, but the vital principle still subsists. You may farther observe, concerning those pious persons, that, when they cease to ex ercise this conddence of faith, they lament not the least distrust with regard to the the failure : " I said, this is my infirmity." Psal. Ixxvii. 10. They chide themselves for it : " Why art thou cast down, O my soul ?" They encourage themselves against it : " Hope in God," Psal. xlii. 5 ; it is thy unquestionable privilege. How could they do this — on what grounds, or from what motive — if tliey had not a secret persuasion that their ransom was paid, and their God reconciled; consequently, that all their doubts were an injury to his fidelity and to his goodness ? Nay, the church, even under her darkest apprehensions, still speaks the sentiment, still retains the grace for which I am plead- ing : " My Lord," uttered with her lips, argues an applicatory faith in her heart. So copious and pregnant are the evidences of this precious doctrine I It is confirmed by that very passage which was produced for its confutation. TTier. If this be the sentiment of the church in general, is it also the temper ot her particular members ? Was each of them animated by this firm and lively faith? Asp. Let these particular persons appear and answer for themselves. Hear the de- claration of the Psalmist ; " Bless the Lord, 0 my soul ; and all that is within me, bless his holy name." Psal. ciii. 1, 2. What is the cause of this holy transport and devout jjraise ? Is it, because God possibly may ; because he probably vdll ? No ; but because he actually does forgive : " Who forgiveth all thine iniquities." Take notice of Job's belief, and Job's support, amidst his un- exampled suflferings : " I know that my Re- deemer liveth ;" not only that there is a Redeemer, but that he is, together with all his saving benefits, mine ; which, being a truth so sweet and delightful, is expressed a second time : " Whom I shall see for my- self," Job xix. 25 — 27, to my own advan- tage and for my own comfort : see him ex- erting his almighty ])ower and infinite mer- cy, to rescue my body from the grave, and to deliver my soul from hell. What was Habakkuk's security, amidst the threatening, the tremendous, the triumphant malice, of his own and his country's enemies ? " "The Lord God is my strength." He says not, 1 wish, I pray, for the divine favour and the divine succour; but I am persuaded they both are mine ; my inestimable portion, and my inviolable safeguard. " He will make my feet like hind's feet," that I shall per- fectly escape from all danger ; " and he will make me w^k upon mine high places," be- yond the reach of every evil. Hab. iii. 19. Ther. Is this the language of believers under the New Testament dispensation ? Asp. Under every dispensation, Theron. They who lived before the law " were per- suaded" {Yliij^iMTii) of the promises ; had 438 THERON AND ASPASIO. certainty of their performance ; nay, they " embraced them" (^Afrarafunoi) as their own ; they hugged them, as it were, to their very souls. Heb. xi. 13. They who lived under the law could say, " As far as the east is from the west, so far hath he remov- ed our transgressions from us." Psalm ciii. 12.. And can you imagine in the days of the gospel, when our advantages are greater and our light is clearer, that our faith should be weaker, or our hope fainter ? St. Peter makes a profession, which excludes all doubting : " I am a witness of the sufferings of Christ, and also a partaker of the glory that shall be revealed." 1 Pet. v. 1. St. Paul answers in the same heroic strain : " I know in whom I have believed ; and am persuaded, that neither life, nor death, nor any creature, shall be able to separate me from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus my Lord." Rom. viii. 39. With both which, the confession of faith recorded by St. Luke is exactly correspondent ; " We believe, that, thioiigh the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, we shall be saved even as they." Acts xv. 11. Ther. Was not this a privilege peculiar to the apostles? Asp. By no means. All believers are brethren, and have "like precious faith." Hear how St. Peter exhorts all his people : " Gird up the loins of your mind, and hope to the end ;" or, as the word should rather be translated, " hope perfectly, hope as- suredly, for the grace that is to be brought unto you at the revelation of Jesus Christ."* 1 Peter i. 13. Maintain not a dim, but a bright hope ; not a waver- ing, but a steady expectation of eternal life ; that free but grand gift, of which the Lord Jesus, at his second coming, shall put you in full possession. The apostle, writing to his Hebrew converts, encourages them all to " hold^fast the confidence, and the rejoicing of hope, firm unto the end.'' Heb. iii. 6. From whence it is deducible, that a trust, amounting to confidence, and the joy which naturally results from such a trust, were the common portion of Christians ; possessed not barely by some iew exalted saints, but by the followers of Jesus in general. I might bring many more instances. But why should I multiply proofs, since the beloved disciple declares, " These things have I written unto you that believe on the name of the Son of God, that you may know that ye have eternal life." Ther. True, Aspasio. This coincides with my apprehensions. The scriptures • E/s rtXos or f^iXi' riXm, signify "to the rnd." But riXiicai, as far as I can recollect, is never used in this sense, either by sacred or profane writers. It may be rendered perfecte, intef;re, in this con- Bexion, cum Jinna Jidutia, with a firm affiance. are \vritten, first, that we may believe, and be entitled to eternal life ; next, that we may have the knowledge of our belief, and a consciousness of our title. The apostle supposes his correspondents to possess the former, yet not to have attained the latter. Asp. Is it certain that he makes such a supposition ? He writes, I imagine, not with a view of leading them to either, but of confirming them in both. He intimates that the privilege and the comfort should go together. If we believe that Christ is our Surety, we should be persuaded that he has paid our debt, and satisfied justice to the veiy uttermost farthing ; if we believe that Christ is our bridegroom, we should rest as- sured, that his righteousness, his inheritance, and his kingdom are curs. And why should we take pains to separate, what God's word and the very nature of things have united ? Will this turn to our advantage ? must it not issue in our loss ? Besides, according to your own interpretation, whoever falls short of this cheering knowledge, falls short of one great end for which the Scriptures were written. He receives not his full reward : He only gleans where he might reap ; is tossed on the ocean of luicertainty : Where- as they that have believed, have gained the port, have dropped their anchor, and enter into rest. Heb. iv. 3. Ther. Believed ! What ? that our sins are laid upon Christ? that he was obedient in oiu- stead ? that all spiritual blessings are thereby procured for our — even for our en- joyment ? Asp. The blessings you mention are evi- dently the purport of thegospel. And I know of no other justifying faith but that which relates to the gospel, and believes its report. Isa. liii. 1. Nor can I think that any other belief will administer the tranquillity, or pro- duce the rest specified by the apostle. But here, I find, lies the core and root of our controversy. This is the precise point to be settled. What it is to believe ? What is included in this very important word ? This question might renew our dispute, and cause the past arguments to recur : whereas, I would gladly getVid of di sputation . We have already been too long detained in these disagreeable paths. However, since you have given the occasion, I may just touch upon another text or two : For I would willingly drive this nail to the head ; and not leave my friend unconvinced on a subject of the utmost con- sequence. The Lord declares byhisprophet, " I, even I, am he that blotteth out thy transgres- sions." To believe, is to subscribe this de- claration ; to subscribe with our hand, and profess from our heart, " Lord it is done as thou hast said." Faith is, if I may so speak, the echo of the divine voice. It eagerly catches, and punctually reverberates the joy- DIALOGUE XVI. ^9 fnl sound. Docs God say, " Thou art my people?" Faith i-ei)lios, " Thou art my God," Hos. ii. 23 ; not barely desiring, but confi- dently averring an inteiest in his favour. This explanation of faith is given us by a wisdom which ciuinot be deceived, by a fidelity which cannot deceive. — Once more our Lord bears this testimony concerning Thomas, " Thomas, thou hast believed." Now then, I think we have got an infallible touchstone. Let us examine what that is which Jesus Christ calls believing. What- ever it be, it is the determination of truth itself, and shoidd pass for a vei'dict, from which there lies no appeal. And this, this is the confession of Thomas, " My Lord and my God." John xx. 28, 29. This, this expresses -what our divine Master calls be- lieving. When, therefore, we confess with our lips, and are persuaded in our hearts, that " Jesus is our Lord, who bought us with his blood ; that " Jesus is our God," who will exert all his adorable perfections for our good ; then we truly believe : We believe in om* Saviour's sense of the word, we have that faith which he allows to be genuine. Tlier. Is this the constant language of faith? According to this account, there is no difference between the infant and the adult J between the new-born babe and the full grown man in Christ. Your spiritual children, Aspasio, must be men from their birth ; nay, born in all the vigour of man- hood. Whereas, the apostle makes an evi- dent difference between the babes, the young men, and the fathers ; between faith — the assurance of faith — and the full assurance of faith. If we are told of a patriarch, who was " strong in faith ;" we read of some Roman converts, who were " weak in the faith ;" and we hear our Lord speaking to disciples who were " fearful and of little faith." Asp. Between faith, and the full assur- ance of faith, the apostle makes a difference. The one is the most exalted pitch, where the other is bat an inferior elevation. Yet both are rounds of the same ladder. I do not remember, that the sacred writer anywhere distinguishes between faith and assurance- IT/fif and XlifTm^fio-i;, faith and confidence, are joined in the epistle to the Ephesians. It is the opinion of the best critics, that the sense of the latter is included in the former. The critics' opinion is confirmed by the apostle's declaration, " We have access with confidence through faith." Eph. iii. 12. Could yonder sun diffuse warmth through the air, if it had no warmth in itsQlf ? No more could faith produce confidence in the believer, if in its own nature it did not con- tain the same. The case of little faith, I think, may be explained from oui' Lord's own expostula- tion : " O thou of little faith, wherefore didst thou doubt ?" Here was a faith, not only in Christ's power, but also in his will. Nay, here was an appropriating faith, by which the apostle applied both to himself: " I verily"believe, that my divine Master is able to preserve me, even though I venture to tread upon this tempestuous sea. I am persuaded likewise, that he will uphold me, and not sufl^er his servant to perish in the hazardous enterprise." Nothing less than this could have produced that hazardous en- terprise, or have emboldened him to walk upon the rolling billows. Do you not discern, in this instance, some degree of personal application, some real assurance of faith ? It is true, this faith was violently assaidted by doubts, and gieatly en- feebled by fears.* Yet still it was of the applicatory kind. " He can, he will," were expressive of its nature; though the bois- terous winds, and the terrifying appearance of things, almost drowned its voice, or stifled the words in their utterance. T/ter. If you allow no difference between faith and confidence, I am very sure St. John puts a difference between babes, young men, and fathers. Asp. He does, Theron ; and so would I. Neither can I think of any thing more proper to explain my meaning, or establish my tenet, than your own comparison. In some fruitful family, you may see one child in leading-strings ; another able to walk by itself; a third come home, improved and cultivated, from the school of literature. Observe their speech. One lisps out a few broken sentences ; another talks intelligibly, but very incorrectly ; the last has learned to express himself with tolerable propriety. Yet each speaks the same language, not- withstanding the various degrees of fluency in their utterance, or purity in their diction. — So faith always speaks one and the same uniform language. Whether she lisps or stammers ; whether she whispers in faint accents, or raises her voice in a more manly tone ; this is still the unvaried import of her speech : " God, even our own God, will give us his blessing." Can you forget, how St. John addresses even his little children ? "I write imto you, little chil- dren, because your sins are forgiven. " 1 John ii. 12. Tker. Will not this account discourage * I must bep of the candid reader to take particu- lar notice of this limitation ; and must entreat the impartial examiner, not to forget this concession. We nowhere suppose, that a freedom from all fears, or a superiority to all doubts, are included in the nature of faith. We only affirm, that an appropriating per- suasion or assurance are necessary to the being of faith. Thisassurancemaybeencumbered with doubts, and may conflict with fears. But still it is assurance —real assuiance — and proves itself to be such, by op. posing and strugsling with thecoutrary principle. 440 THERON AND ASPASIO. some, and offend others, who are not ar- rived at such an exalted pitch ? Asp. I would not offend the meanest, nor discourage the weakest of my Redeemer's servants. As for offence, that cannot be given, and ought not to be taken, when all we advance is strictly conformable to the unerring oracles. Whereas, to qualify and attenuate the scriptural descriptions of faith, in complaisance to our own experience ; to make the unhappy Huctuations and unwor- thy suspicions, which possess the breasts of some particular Christians — to make them the rule of explaining, or the measure of enforcing so capital a duty ; this, sure, would be an offence to God, an injui-y to his word, and detrimental to the welfare of souls. With regard to discouragement, I cannot conceive how this should ensue, from in- forming the poor sinner that he has a right to apply Christ, and all Christ's merits, to himself ; or from exhorting the poor sinner to do this, without any hesitation, and with a resolute dependence. In this case, to doubt is to be discouraged : as much as you want certainty, so much you want consola- tion. The proper way to comfort these distressed peo))le is, not to allow, but to dissipate their doubts ; to blow away those dead ashes, that the smothered embers may shine and glow. Were we to inquire after the cause of that disquietude and despondency which are so common among modern professors, I am inclined to suspect we should find it ly- ing hid in their wrong apprehensions, both of Christ and of faith. They look upon Christ, as a rigorous and forbidding mo- narch, who insists upon some hard terms and high qualifications. Whereas, his heart and his arms are ever open ; his heart as open, as infinite love can set it ; his arms as open, as infinite merit can make tliein. They look upon faith as containing a possi- bility only, or, at most, a probability, of sal- vation through his name. It is with them a kind of peradventure ; a situation of mind, fluctuating and pendulous. " Perhaps 1 may succeed, and be eternally blessed : Per- lia])s I may be rejected and eternally ruin- ed." Sucli a state of suspense, in an affair of everlasting consequence, cannot but create imeasincss and anxiety. This uneasiness and anxiety seem to have been little known in the earlier and better days of the church. And why? Be- cause Christians were then exposed to the rage of persecution ? Because they were placed nearer the time of Christ's sojourn- ing on earth ! I rather think, because they were taught this partieidar and conifoitable application of Christ and his righteousness. They exercised a confident affiance on Je- sus, as their own Redeemer ; and were shown a more direct way to obtain this as- sumnce, than merely to search after their own renewed qualities. T7ier. Surely, Aspasio, in this paitieiilar you differ, not from me only, but from the generality of the orthodox. Asp. I am sorry to find myself under a necessity of differing fi-om any worthy j)er- sons, much more of disagieeing with the generality. This I can safely aver, that it is not from any affectation of novelty, or any fondness for disputing, but from a dis- interested regard to the tru*h of the gospel. I should be glad to have the concurrence of all the serious, and all the pious ; but I dare not purchase their approbation, I dare not attempt a coalition of sentiments, by diminishing the boundless riches of grace, or restricting the absolute freeness of salva- tion by Christ. You are pleased to remind me of the or- thodox. Pray, my dear friend, what is the standard of orthodoxy? Is it the word of revelation ? This speaks once, yea twice, nay, some hundreds of times, in our favour. Is it the doctrine of our reformers from Popery? With these we jar not, but exactly harmonize. Is it to be taken from the old confessions of faith, and the catechisms of Protestant churches ? To these we appeal, and have the sanction of their authority. Has the modern way of treating and stating this momentous subject so much to allege for its support ? Let me farther ask, — Are we better than our fathers ? Is Christianity in a thriving condition, or practical religion on the ad- vancing hand ? The reverse, the melancholy reverse, is imdeniably true. When our writers enforced, and our preachers urged what I am defending, professors were alive, and animated with the power of godliness : Whereas now we seem to be degenerated into the mere form ; we " have a name to live, but are" languid, listless, and if not " dead," Rev. iii. 1 , yet ready to die. It behoves us therefore to consider whether the declension, the decays, the unfruitful- ncss, so justly lamented in the present age, be not owing to the absence of this appro- priating belief, or this assured j)ersuasion. A sweet assurance of pardon, a comfort- able persuasion of our reconciliation with God, an established hope of eternal glory tlu-ough .lesus Christ ; these will be opera- tive in the soul, as " a torch in the sheaf." These will enkindle love, and increase watchfulness ; these will beget the true hu- mility of mind, and work an inifeigned ab- horrence of sin ; these will enlarge the heart with charity, and exalt the affections above the world. These are the ])ro])er, and the only effectual means of " making the man of God perfect," that is, " thoroughly fur- nished to every good work."* * For the display ami coniinnatiou of these jioints, DIALOGUE XVI. 411 But the doubting frame is not fitted to yield any of these fruits. Nay, I am appre- liensive there are several graces which can hardly be exercised, several duties wliich can scarcely be performed, so long as this spirit of diffidence prevails. Ther. Name them, Aspasio. Asp. I am afraid, lest I should seem to arrogate the office of a teacher ; which neither becomes my condition, nor is agree- able to my temper. Ther. I beseech you, my dear friend, let us wave ceremony, and have nothing to do with compliments. My soul is in jeopardy. My present comfort, and my everlasting hap- piness are at stake. And shall we suffer any little punctilios to overbear such weighty considerations ? Suppose you are a teacher ; I have great need, and am very desirous to become your scholar. For I freely confess, that, know- ing as I may seem in other instances, I am very ignorant in the great peculiarities of the gospel. Nay, though I have read the scriptures in a critical view, I have been an utter stranger to their spiritual meaning. Here I am luiinstructed as a babe. Here, therefore, I ought to be teachable as a babe. Yes, in this respect I would be- come as a little child, that I may enter into the knowledge, and possess the privileges of the kingdom of heaven. Asp- Your answer, Theron, shall be a law. " Love to God," is the first command- ment ; and, without all peradventure, is the principal grace. But is it easy, is it pos- sible, to love God, before we have any per- suasion of his love to us ? This is what the apostles did not, could not do. And, if it exceeded their ability, it will doubtless be above the reach of our capacity. The thing may be attempted ; the practice may be urged ; we may see the necessity of it, and desire to perform it ; but we shall never, I do, with great pleasure, and without any diffidence, refer to Mr. Marshall's " Gospel Mystery of Sanctifi- cation ;" which 1 shall not recommend in the style of a critic, or like a reader of taste, hut with all the simplicity of the weakest Christinn ; I moan from my own experience. It has been made one of the most useful books to my own soul : I scarce ever fail to re- ceive spiritual consolation and strength from the per- usal of it. And was I to be banished into some deso- late island, possessed only of two books besides my Bible, this sliould be one of the two, and perhaps the first that I would choose. Should any person, hitherto a stranger to the work, purchase it on this recommendation, I must desire to suggest one caution : That he be not surprised, if, in the beginning he meets with something new, and quite out of the common road; or, if surprised, that he would not be offended, but calmly and attentively proceed. He will find the author's design opening itself by degrees : He will discern more and more the propriety of his method ; and what might, at the first view, appear like a stumbling-block, will prove to be a fair, compendious, and ample avenue — to the palace of truth— to the temple of holiness— and to the bowers of happiness. — Our author's particular lecom- mctidation of this invaluable book, in a i)reface to an edition ]>riii!cd of it in London, is inserted in the 5th volume of the works. never be able to exercise it, till we have some comfortable apprehension of God's re- conciliation and good-will to us. " We love Him." Wherefore? from what inducement? " Because he first loved us," 1 John iv. 10, and because this love hath been made evi- dent to our consciences by the light of faith. \^ What think you of " delight in God ?" This also is a Christian grace. But " how can two walk together, except they be agreed? " We never covet an intimacy with the per- son who declares himself our enemy. Nay, if there be only a suspicion that he bears us a secret ill-will, we shall be jealous of trust- ing him, and averse to approach him. This was the case of our first parents immediate- ly after the fall: Instead of drawing near to their Creator with pleasure and gratitude, they fled from him with anxiety and ten'or. And why ? Because they were under the alarming apprehensions of his displeasure. Whereas, let us onee believe what the apos- tle affirms, " When we were enemies, \\c were reconciled to God by the death of his Son." Rom. v. 10. Let us cordially credit what the prophet repeatedly declares," There- fore will the Lord wait that he may be gra- cious unto you ; and therefore will he be exalted, that he may have mercy upon you." Isa. XXX. 18. Then we shall seek his face with alacrity. Our affections will be on the wing to salute their Almighty Benefac- tor. We shall "joy in God through our Lord Jesus Christ." Ther. To the enjoyment of so many spi- ritual consolations, and the exercise of seve- ral delightful graces, I acknowledge, an as- siu-ed faith is necessary ; but — Asp. Ay, Theron, you may well hesitate. It' will be difficult to fill up the chasm in your discourse. For my part, I know not any duty of holiness, which can be performed aright, Avithout some degree of this confid- ing faith. We are to " walk worthy of Him Avho hath called us to his kingdom andgloiy." I Thess. ii. 12. But if we doubt whether we in particular are called, how can this in- fluence our conversation? We are to be "fol- lowers of God, as his dear children." Eph. v. 1. But if we do not, cannot, will not be- lieve, so as to cry " Abba, Father," how can such a consideration sway our hearts ? Nay, upon what principles can such a person ad- dress himself to discharge any office of the Christian life ? We are to " abound in the works of the Lord," from the animating prospect of a glorious resurrection. 1 Cor. XV. 58. This he cannot do ; because he apprehends himself to have no lot or por- tion in the blessed hope. We are to open our hands in charity to others, from a vie\v of that heavenly kingdom which was pre- pared for us from the foundation of the world. Matth. xxv. 34. We are to cleanse 412 THERON AND ASPASIO. ourselves from all filthinesss of flesh and s])irit, on account of those precious pro- mises which are freelygiven to us in Christ Jesus. 2 Cor. vii. 1- But where unbeliev- ing doubts predominate, these endearing and invigorating motives are lost. The man has no interest in the encouraging promises, has no title to the blissful inheritance ; con- sequently, these sinews of evangelical obe- dience, with respect to him, are benumbed, withered, dead. Ther. Such a man may make prayers and supplications. Though he cannot rejoice in the privileges, he may request them at the throne of gi'ace. Asp. Prayer is a great duty, and as great a privilege. I wish, my dear Theron, the spirit of grace and supplication. This will be better, incomparably better, and more advantageous, than a key to hidden trea- sures. But how can you pray with hum- ble boldness, or with lively hope, unless you believe ? believe that Christ is your High- Priest — is 3'our Intercessor with the Fa- ther, and, with the incense of his infinite merit, presents your petitions ? Then, and then only, can you have what the apostle calls "boldness and access with confidence."* Take notice of these vigorous expressions, and at your leisure consider whether they countenance the suspicious and misgiving temper. At present observe how yonder lark warbles and mounts in the firmament, as if she was bidding adieu to the eai'th, and going to mingle with the skies ! An image this of believing prayer. — Should a i'o\vler shoot the soaring songster through tlie wing, how would she fall from her ele- vation, and flutter on the ground ! An em- blem that of distrusting prayer. I know not how to leave this subject, without attending to the testimony of St. Jiimes, than which nothing can be more awful, or more decisive. It should really alarm the doubting disposition as much as any solicitation to the most horrid sin. It should alarm the whole religious world, as nuich as the beacons suddenly kindled, and all on a flame, would alarm the inhabitants of the maritime coasts. " Let him pray in faith, nothing doubting ;-|-!for he that doubt- • Eph. iii. 12. Ylpi^ayuy/i, "access with a cheering anrt graceful assurance," such as those peti- tioners enjoy wlio arc intrmluced into the royal pre- sence hy some distinguislici? favourite, lior-^ouffia, "a boldness or unrefttrainert lil)erty of speech ;" such as children use, when they present their addresses, and make known their requests to an indulgent fa- ther.— E" ''Ti'roJyiffii, "with a well grounded and steady confidence," that we shall both obtain a fa- vourable accei)tance, and a gracious answer. — And all this, "through the faith of Christ;" through the worthiness of liis person, and the prevalence of his in- tercession. + Jam. i. 0. " Nothing doubting," is the apostle's c.xiilanation of faith. IMm'e' 'it^K^l1/ofJA^o; U, in our translation, " nothing wavering " Rut the very same expression is rcndcicd. Acts x. S.'0, " Nothing eth is like a wave of the sea, driven by the wind, and tossed." James i. 6. Nay, the apostle adds, — and it is an addition greatly to be regarded ; it should abide with weight on our consciences ; for it comes from a casuist, who could neither be too indulgent, through an excess of compassion, nor too rigorous, through an extravagance of zeal, — " Let not that man," the doubting supplicant, " think that he shall receive any thing of the Lord." Never then, my worthy friend, never more be an advocate for doublings. Pur- sue them with fire and .sword. Give them no quarter. Deal with them as Saul was commanded to treat the Amalekites. Ther. If we are grieved at the remem- brance of past sin, and feel an aversion to all sin; if the prevailing bias of our affec- tions be to the divine Redeemer, and the habitual breathing of our soids after a con- formity to his image ; may we not suppose ourselves possessed of the truth and reality, though we have not the confidence and re- joicing of faith ? I say we, because I ap- prehend this is not my peculiar case, but common to myself and many other Christ- ians of the weaker sort. I ask, therefore, in their name and in my own, may we not hinnbly suppose our condition safe, thougli we do not presume to use the language of the spouse, " My beloved is mine, and I am his ?" Asp. So you are still inclined to spare Agag, because delicately and speciously dis- guised under the appearance of tenderness to weak souls. I shoidd have thought the text from St. James must have done exe- cution, like the prophet Samuel's sword ; but since corrosives succeed not, let us make trial of lenitives. When the great Jehovah is pleased to say " I am the Lord thy God," then, upon this authentic warrant, to use the language of the spouse is neither more nor less than to declare, " I am persuaded that Christ is faithful and true, that he speaks what he thinks, and will do what he says." Where- as, to deny this by downright imbelief, or to question this, by living in suspense, is not himible duty, but proud disobedience. Might not the Lord Jesus justly complain, " What iniquity have sinners found in me ?" what imkindness, or what unfaithfulness, that they are so much afraid of confiding in my grace, and of believing my word ? You ask. Whether the state of these per- sons is safe, and their faith real ? I answer, why should not their state be happy, and their faith assured ? Why should you, or doubting." The sense is, either way, alike; Though I think, "nothing wavering" corresponds too nearly with the comparison, " like a wave." makes some- thing of a disagreeable jingle ; and lliitlens ihcforce, or sui)ersedes the necessity, of the followiiij^ illus- tration. DIALOGUE XVI. 443 But see, Theron ! Yonder black and low- hung cloud points this way. It seems big with a shower; it marches on apace, and will soon be over our heads. We must in- stantly fly to shelter. Ther. It is well we have this summer- house for our shelter. The thickest boughs would be insufficient to screen us. I think I never saw a more impetuous burst of rain. A shower ! No, it is a descending deluge. The large, ropy, reeking drops come down like a torrent. Surprising ! What a dread- ful flash was there ! A sheet of sulphureous fire, launched from the dismal gloom, and * If the reader finds this Dialogiie too long he will have a couveuient resting-place. they, or any one, plead the cause of unbe- lief, and veil it with the plausible pretext of humility ? Let these persons know, what- ever their names or their circumstances are, that they have as good a right to adopt the words of the spouse, as we have to walk in these gardens, and enjoy their refined de- lights. Yet they will lio well to remember, that those qualifications, however amiable, are by no means the ground of their right. They are to advance their claim, and hold fast the blessing, not as men ornamented with fine endowments, but as poor, indigent, guilty siimers. For such the Saviour is provided ; to such his benefits are proposed, and on such his grace will be magnified. Ther. Do you elude my question, or give up your point ? One or the other my As- pasio certainly does. Asp. Since my friend so peremptorily affirms, I will not have the ill manners to deny. I will own the former charge ; the latter I cannot admit. I will own, that at present I had much rather act as a comfort- er, than as a disputant. On some other occasion I will undertake to consider, and endeavour to answer all your objections. In the mean time, I am far from giving up the point, barely by inquiring, why such persons should lose their time, and perhaps embar- rass their minds, in these less profitable sup- positions, when there is a direct, a com- pendious, and a certain method of obtaining peace, by appropriating Christ and his me- rits, without recurring to any such qualifica- tions ? Nevertheless, if you insist upon a positive reply, I am obliged to declare, that faith consists in none of those qualifications which you describe. The language of faith is not — " I feel such an aversion ; I am actuated with such a bias ; or I breathe such a de- sire:" But — "God has freely loved me; Christ has graciously died for me ; and the Holy Ghost will assuredly sanctify me in the belief, the appropriating belief, of these precious truths."* wrapping the whole skies in a blaze ! Not a moments interval between the lightning's rage and the thunder's roar. How sudden and vast the explosion ! What a deep, pro- longed, tremendous peal ensues ! It seems as if the poles of earth and the pillars of nature cracked ! See, my dear Aspasio, see the direful havoc, the horrid effects of this elementary tumult. Yonder oak, which reared its tow- ering head aloft, and spread wide its grace- ful branches, is, in the twinkling of an eye, turned into a naked trunk. There it stands singed and tore; stripped of its verdant honours,* and surrounded with its own shat- tered fragments. How fearful is the artil- lery of heaven ! Asp. And why — why did not the blow fall on this guilty breast ? Why was not the fiery bolt, which flew so near, commission- ed to pierce bur hearts ? If our heavenly P'ather has been so tendeily careful of these perishing bodies, will he not be much more gracious to our immortal souls? Will he not clothe them with that immaculate robe, which is the only security from the stroke of eternal vengeance? And let me ask, Can this be a security to us, unless we are vest- ed with it? Could this building, though very substantial, have secured us from the rush- ing rains, if we had not betaken ourselves to its friendly covert ? Christ is represented, 'in the prophecy of Isaiah, by this very image ; as " a place of refuge, and as a covert from the storm and from rain," Isa. iv. 6. That is, his merits and death are a sure protection from the curse of the law, and the damnation of hell. No fury of the elements so terrible as these ; no bulwark of stone so impregnable as those. If this is a proper emblem of Christ, to what shall we liken faith ? To a persuasion, that the shelter of the summer-house is free for our use ? To a high esteem of its ac- commodation, an earnest desire after its protection, or an habitual tendency towards it ? Woidd this defend us from the incle- mencies of the weather? AVoukl this keep us dry, amidst (what you call) the descend- ing deluge ? Would this esteem, desire, or tendency, unless carried into actual entrance and possession, be a proper safeguard, or in- deed any manner of advantage to our per- sons ? Ther. No, Aspasio ; neither would a per- suasion that the summer-house is mine. Asp. True ; but a belief that Christ is mine, is like entering the summer-house- When the divine Spirit reveals the obe- * Does not this give us the most awful and grand sense of Psalm xxix.it? " The voice of the Lordi" when uttered in thunder, and accompanied with lightning, not onlij " discovereth the thick busli- es, but strips the forest;" lays bare the branching woods; reduces the most magnificent and nourishing cedars to naked and withered trunks. 444 THERON AND ASPASIO. dient 'and dying Saviour in my heart; when I am enabled to believe, that his death was the desert of my sins, and his obedience is the matter of my justification ; when I live in the exercise of this appropriating faith, then I find that comfort, and I receive that benefit, which correspond with the repose and security we now enjoy from this hospi- tJible structure. Ther. May I then, from this instant, look upon Christ, his glorious person, his perfect righteousness and his precious death, as my certain inheritance ? May I firmly believe, that, through this grand and immensely-meri- torious cause, I shallhave pardon and accept- ance, true holiness, and endless salvation ? Asp. Why should you not believe all this firmly? You have the same reason to believe with a steady confidence, as to be- lieve with any degree of affiance. It is the free promise of the gospel, addressed to sin- ners, that warrants the latter ; and the very same promise, under the same circumstan- ces of immeiited munificence, authorizes the former. You have heard my opinion ; hear now what our Lord himself says : " Let him that is athirst, come ; and whosoever will, let him take the water of life freely," Rev. xxii. 1 7. He may partake of my spiritual and unspeakable blessings, as freely as he makes use of the most common refreshments as freely as he drinks of the running stream This is his royal proclamation : Here his gracious invitation. Look unto me, and be ye saved," Isa. xlv. 22, saved from your disquieting fears, by justification ; saved from your domineering corruptions, by sanc- tification ; saved from every evil, by com- plete and eternal redemption. To whom is this most affectionate call directed ? Not to a few distinguished favourites only, but to " all the ends of the earth." None are excepted ; none are prohibited ; and can my Theron imagine that he is excluded ? Nay farther, hear our Lord's earnest en- treaty ; hear his tender and repeated impor- tunity : As though God did beseech you by us, we pray you in Christ's stead, be yo reconciled to God," 2 Cor. v. 20. Hark ! It is the voice of infinitely-condescending love, speaking by his ambassador: — Sin- ners, accept my great salvation. Enjoy what I have purchased for you by my dying agonies. Do not suspect my kindness, or refuse my "gifts. This will wound me deeper than the spear which pierced my heart." — O ! the grace of our exalted King. He bows from his celestial throne. He al- most kneels to his guilty creatures. He begs, he even begs of obnoxious sinners, not to reject his mercies. After all this, can you entertain the least doubt, Tlicron, whether, you have a permission to believe fiinily ? Tlier. This is extraordinary goodness in- deed ! I have often read these passages, but never saw them, till this hour, in a light so engaging and so encouraging. Asp. Should not this threefold cord be strong enough to draw my dear friend, let me add (what must absolutely supersede all ob- jections) the plain, express, peremptory command of the Almighty. " This is his command, that we should believe on the name of his Son Jesus Christ," 1 John iii. 23. Pray, examine the language ; not he allows only, or barely advises, but commands. We are not only permitted, but strictly re- quired. It is not only our privilege, but God's positive injunction. Upon the dis- covery of such a Saviour, methinks every heart should cry, " O that I might be al- lowed to approach him ! to solicit an inter- est in him ! How gladly would I wait, ever so long a time, in ever so mean a posture, if I might at |the last receive him as my portion !" The superabundant goodness of God prevents our wishes and exceeds our hopes. " I freely give my Son," saith the Lord, " and all his riches to you. I be- seech you as a compassionate friend, not to refuse him. I enjoin you as an uncontroll- able sovereign, to believe on him." — How gracious ! most amazingly gracious is this command ! And give me leave to hint, it is the greatest and most important command that ever issued from the throne of gloiy. If this be neglected, no others can be kept ; if this be observed, all others will be easy. Now, Theron, will you not receive Christ, and look upon his all-sufficient merits as your own? Is not your warrant clear and unexceptionable ? nay, is not your obliga- tion strong and indispensable ? Ther. Truly, Aspasio, you put all my mistrustful apprehensions to the stand. Here is a proclamation from the blessed God, — seconded by his invitation — accom- panied by his entreaty — and all enforced by his command. I know not what can be a fuller proof of yoxu- point, or a stronger in- ducement to believe. Asp. Yes, my friend, I can produce (if such a thing be possible) stronger ])roof still ; such as, I hope, will totally route un- belief, and drive all her forces from the field. God has not only invited you, entreated you, and commanded you to live under the sweet persuasion, that his Son is your Sa- viour : but he has given you the grandest ratification of this precious truth. He has passed his word ; he has made you a firm promise ; nay, he has given you many and various promises, of this inestimable bless- ing. And " God is not a man, that he should lie ; or the Son of man, that he should repent ; Hath he said, and shall he not do it ? or hath he spoken, and shall he DIALOGUE XVI. 445 not make it good ?" Numb, xxiii. 19. Hea- ven and earth may drop into nothing, soon- er than one promise, or indeed one jot or tittle of his promise, should fall to the ground. Besides this, he has given you, if I may so speak, a note imder his own hand. He has recorded his promises in the Bible, and written them with an everlasting pen ; so that they will stand conspicuous and indeli- ble, like a bill drawn upon heaven, and a basis laid for faith, so long as the sun and moon endure. Nay, he has confirmed all by the most solemn sanction imaginable — by his oath ; \>y his own oath ; by the oath of a God. Though his word is sure, and his promise immutable, he adds, astonishing condescen- sion ! adorable benignity ! he adds his oath to all. He not only speaks, but swears ; swears by himself, swears by his own eter- nal existence, that his promises belong — to whom ? Mark this particular wnth the most exact attention : To whom do those pro- mises belong, which are ratified in this un- equalled and inviolable manner ? To the holy, the upright, the accomplished? — To those, says the scripture, " who fly for re- fuge to the hope set before them," Heb. vi. 17, 18; the hope set before them in the propitiation, the righteousness, the ineffable merits of Christ. Ther. May 1 tlien believe, firmly believe, assuredly believe, that Jesus the Jlediator, and all the rich benefits of his mediation, are mine ? Pardon me, Aspasio, for reiter- ating the question. I am really, with re- spect to the obedience of faith, too much like that Saxon monarch, who, for his re- missness and inactivity, was surnamed the " Unready."" Asp. I do more than pardon my dear Theron : I feel for him, and I sympathize with him. If there is some of that Saxon prince's disease running in his religion ; I am sure there is too much of it in mine ; and I fear it is an epidemical distemper: but let us reflect a moment : Suppose any neigh- bour of substance and credit should bind himself by a deliberate promise, to do you some particular piece of ser\'ice ; if he should .add to his promise a note under his hand ; if he should corroborate both by some authen- tic pledge ; if he shoidd establish all by a most awful and solemn oath : could you suspect the sincerity of his engagement, or harbour any doubt with regard to its execu- tion ? This would be most unreasonable in any one ; and to your generous temper, I am very certain, it would be impossible. Let us remember that God has given us all this cause for an assurance of faith, and more. Nay, I will defy the most timorous • Ethelred. and suspicious temper to demand from the most treacherous person on earth, a greater, stronger, fuller security, than the God of infinite fidelity has granted to you and me. After all this, one would think, diffidence itself could no longer hesitate, nor the most jealous incredulity demur. Shall we, can we withhold that affiance from the un- changeable Creator, which we coidd not but repose on a fallible creature ? T7ier. You rouse and animate me, As- pasio. O ! that I may arise, and, with the divine assistance, shake off this stupor of unbelief. Certainly, it can never be ho- nourable to God, nor pleasing to Christ, nor profitable to ourselves. Asp. If it be, then cherish it ; maintain it, and never relinquish it. But how can it be honourable to God ? it depreciates his goodness ; it is a reproach to his veracity ; nay, the apostle scruples not to affirm, that it "makes him a liar," 1 John v. 10. Where- as, they who believe his testimony, glorify his faithfulness ; glorify his beneficence ; and, as John the Baptist speaks, " set to their seal that God is true. John iii. 33. I have been informed, that when the late Elector of Hanover was declared, by the parliament of Great Britain, successor to the vacant throne, several persons of dis- tinction waited upon his Highness, in order to make timely application for the most va- luable preferments. Several requests of this nature were granted, and each was confirm- ed by a kind of promissory note. One gen- tleman particularly solicited for the master- ship of the Rolls. Being indulged in his desire, he was offered the same confirma- tion which had been vouchsafed to other successful petitioners. Upon which he seemed to be under a pang of graceful con- fusion and surprise ; begged that he might not put the royal donor to such unnecessary trouble ; at the same time protesting, that he looked upon his Highness' word as the veiy best ratification of his suit. With this conduct, and this compliment, the Elector was not a little pleased. " This is the gen- tleman," he said, " who does me a real ho- nour ; treats me like a king ; and whoever is disappointed, he shall certainly be gratified." — So we are assured by the testimony of revelation that the patriarch, " who stag- gered not through unbelief, gave," and in the most signal, the most acceptable man- ner, " glory to God." Rom. iv. 20. Is it " pleasing to Christ ?" Quite the reverse. It dishonours his merit; it de- tracts from the dignity of his righteousness ; it would enervate the power of his interces- sion. Accordingly, you may observe, there is nothing which our Lord so frequently re- proved in his followers as this spirit of un- belief. What says he to his disciples when he came down from the mount of transfi- 446 THERON AND ASPASIO. guration ? " O faithless and perverse gc'nera- tion !"* They were perverse, because faith- less. What says he to the travellers whom he overtook in their journey to Emmaus ? " O fools, and slow of heart to believe !" Luke xxiv. 25. They were fools because slow to believe. What says he to the apostles after his resurrection ? " Jesus up- braided them with their unbelief." Mark, xvi. 14. He took no notice of their cow- ardly and perfidious behaviour ; he inveigh- ed against none of their other follies and infirmities ; but he upbraided them with their unbelief. Not gently rebuked. No ; this was a fault so unreasonable in itself, so reproachful to their Master, so pernici- ous to themselves, that he severely repri- manded them for it ; with an air of vehe- mence, and with a mixture of invective. Is it " profitable to ourselves ?" Nothing less. It damps our love, and diminishes our comfort. It subjects us to that fear which hath torment ; and disqualifies us for that obedience which is filial. In a word, this distrustful and unbelieving temper weakens every principle of piety, and im- poverishes the whole soul. Whence come spiritual oscitancy and remissness ? whence proceed sterility and unfruitfulness in the knowledge of Christ ? St. Peter ascribes them ail to an habitual unbelief. Such per- sons, he says, "have forgotten that they were purged from their former sins." 2 Pet. i. 8, 9. In the regenerate, where it remains, it is very detrimental ; for " they that will not believe shall not be established." Isa. vii. 9. In the unregenerate, where it pre- vails, it is absolutely destructive ; and though it may not kill like an apoplexy, it wastes like a consumption. " They could not enter in because of unbelief." Heb. iii. 19. Let us then, my dear friend, cast away this sin, which so easily besets us both. It clogs our feet ; it hampers all our powers ; and hinders us from running, with alacrity and speed, " the race that is set before us." What says David ? " God hath spoken in his holiness," Psalm Ix. 6, hath made an express and inviolable promise, that I shall be ruler of his people Israel. " I will re- joice therefore ;" away with every alarming apprehension ; I will even exult and triumph. Nay more ; " I will divide She- chem, and mete out the valley of Succoth ;" I will look upon the whole land as my own. I will divide it, and dispose of it, just as if it was already in my possession. Why should not you and I also say, " God hath spoken in his holiness ; hath expressly and solemnly declared, The promise of an all- * A/«o-Tja^^ev>;, Matth. xvii. 17. A believing state of mind is like some well-arranged and beautiful sys- tem of limbs. Unbelief dislocates the parts, distorts the harmonious frame, and disfigures its comely pro- portion. sufficient Saviour is to yon. "We will re- joice therefore;" confiding in this most faith- ful word, we will bid adieu to all disquiet-. ing fears, and make our boast of this glori- ous Redeemer. Yes ; notwithstanding all our unworthiness, Christ and his atone- ment, Christ and his righteousness, are ours. God hath passed his word ; and amidst all our temptations his word is our anchor ; its hold is firm, and its ground im- moveable. • Ther. I have heard some people distin- guish between the faith of reliance, and the faith of assurance ; between the reflex and the direct act of faith. Methinks, I approve these sentiments, though I dislike the terms. The sentiments are happily adapted to the relief of human infirmity ; though the terms are rather too abstruse for ordinary capaci- ties to understand. Asp. I cannot say that I am veiy fond either of the one or of the other. In my opinion, they both partake too much of the subtilty of the schools ; and are more likely to create perplexity, than to administer godly edifying. For which reason, I should choose to drop the difficult phrases, and not to dwell on the nice distinctions : Yet, it we must not dismiss them without some notice, I would just remark — That the faith of reliance, in its true scrip- tural sense, includes or presupposes a degree of assurance. Includes; for what is reli- ance but a repose of the mind, which is at- tended with tranquillity, and excludes per- tiu-bation ? How can this take place, if there be no sort of conviction, that " the Lord is my light and my salvation ?" — Presupposes ; for who would rely on a satisfaction made, without being persuaded that the satisfac tion is for him and his iniquities ? Reliance, separated from this persuasion, seems to be neither comfortable nor reasonable. As to those who insist upon what they call the reflex act of faith ; sure, they mis- take the nature of the thing. This, if I un- derstand them aright, is their way of argu- ing : — "I am a new creature; I love the Lord Jesus in sincerity ; I have the fruits of the Spirit : From whence it is plain, that Christ and his salvation are mine." Now, in al! this procedure, I cannot discern the least footstep of faith ; no, not the least * This very important doctrine is more copiously displayed in some sermons of Mr Ebenezer Erskine on the "assurance of faith," vol. iii. p. SOl.f — Was t to read, in order to refine my taste, or improve my style, I would prefer Bishop Atterbury's sermons. Dr. Bate's works, or Mr Seed's discourses. Bui was I to read, with a single view to the edification of my heart, in true faith, solid comfort, and evangelical lio- liness, I would have recourse to Mr. Erskine, and take his volumes for my guide, my companion, and my own familiar friend. t This refers to a select collection of Mess. Ebenezer and Ralph Erskine's sermons published at London, in three volumes octavo. The sermons on the " assur- ance of faith" are to be found in the first volume of Mr Ebenezer Erskine's sermons printed at Ediuburrb in iTGl DIALOGUE XVI. 44T trace of receiving a testimony, or relying upon a Saviour. Here is nothing more than a logicfil deduction of one proposition from another ; a conclusion draw n from giv- en premises. Grant the latter, and any person, without any aid from the Spirit, will infer the former. It may, therefore, more properly be reckoned an act of reason- ing than of believing ; it is founded on what we ourselves feel, not upon the record of a faithful God ; and it is styled by judicious writers, the assurance of sense rather than of faith. When, in conformity to the aforemen- tioned opinion, we are advised to prove our title to comfort, by genuine marks of con- version, and taught on this column to fix the capital of assurance, I would rather pro- pose a question than advance objections. Is not this somewhat like placing the dome of a cathedral upon the stalk of a tulip ? TJier. No, say they ; it was the practice of the apostle himself ; and he has left it upon record, as a pattern for all posterity to copy. " We know that we are passed from death unto life, because we love the bre- thren." Asp. Observe, Theron, the process of the apostle's reasoning. It is like the form of an inverted cone ; where you have first the point, and from thence proceed to the base. So the sacred writer begins with the less, and ascends to the greater proof. He says, in one of the following verses ; " Here- by perceive we the love of God,* because he laid down his life," 1 John iii. 16, not merely for sinners, but for us in particular. Here, you see, is assurance by the direct act of faith. From this truth believed, from this blessing received, the love of the bre- thren takes its rise ; which may very justly be admitted as an evidence that our faith is real, and our assurance no delusion : As yonder leaves may serve to distinguish the particular species, and ascertain the healthy state of the trees on which they grow. When your tenants bring in their rent, this affords no contemptible evidence that the lands which they respectively occupy are yours. But this is a proof which does not occur every day, or every week ; it is occa- * The word God is not in the original. It was omitted by the apostle, just as the particular name is omitted by Mary, when she speaks to the gardener ; Sir, if thou hast borne him hence : — and by the church, when she addresses the sacred object of her affection ; Let him kiss me with the kisses of his nioutli, John XX. 15. Cantic. i. 1.— In all which places there is a language, a very eraphatical language, even in the silence. It declares, how deeply the heart was pe- netrated, how totally the thoughts were possessed, by the beloved and illustrious subject. It expre.-ses also the superlative dignity and amiableness of the person meant; as though he, and he only, either was or deserved to be known and admired by all. For which reason, to mention his name, or display his excellencies, seemed as needless as to show light to the open eye. ' ■ sional only, and of the subordinate kind. The grand demonstration, that which is al- ways at hand, and always forcible, is your possession of the deeds of conveyance. Thus, the promise of God in his divine word is our charter, or the authentic conveyance of our right to pardon and salvation. Make just the satne difference between this pro- mise and your own holiness, as you make between the writings of your estate and the receival of the revenues ; you will then judge aright, because your judgment will coincide with the apostle's. Besides, this method of seeking peace and assurance, I fear, will perplex the simple- minded, and cherish, rather than suppress, the fluctuations of doubt. For, let the marks be what you please, a love of the brethren or a love of all righteousness, a change of heart or an alteration of life ; these good qualifications are sometimes like the stars at noon-day, not easily, if at all discernible ; or else they are like a glow-worm in the night, glimmering rather than shining ; con- sequently will yield, at the best, but a feeble, at the worst, a very precarious evidence. If, in such a manner, we should acquire some little assurance, how soon may it be unset- tled by the incursions of daily temptation, or destroyed by the insurrection of remain- ing sin ! At such a juncture, how will it keep its standing ! how retain its being ! It will fare like a tottering wall, before the tempest ; or be " as the rush without mire, or the flag without water." Job viii. 11. Instead therefore of poring on our own hearts, to discover, by inherent qualities, our interest in Christ, I should rather renew my application to the free and faithful pro- mise of the Lord — assert and maintain my title on this unalterable ground : " Pardon is mine, I would say grace is mine, Christ and all his spiritual blessings are mine. \A'hy ? because I am conscious of sanctify- ing operations in my own breast ? Rather because ' God hath spoken in his holiness ;' because all these precious privileges are con- signed over to me in the everlasting gospel, with a clearness unquestionable as the truth, with a certainty inviolable as the oath of God." Cast your eye into yonder meadow. Take notice of that industrious fisherman, how intent he is upon the pursuit of his business. He has just thrown his ret, and taken a considerable booty. You do not see him spending his time in idle triumphs, on account of his success : He does not stand to measure the dimensions of the fish, or compute the value of his prize : But having, without delay, secured the captives, he prepares for another cast, and hopes for another draught. So let us, instead of exulting in any past I acquisitions, seek afresh to the inexhausti- 448 THERON AND ASPASIO. Me fulness of our Saviour for renewed com- iTiiinications. If we have been blessed with any taste of his goodness, or any tokens of his love, let us not too fondly dote upon the sweetness of such experiences. Let us not make them the foundation of our confi- dence, but only so many encouragements to persevere and advance in believing ; that, having life and having peace from our divine Head, we may have them " more abundant- ly." John X. 10. Then will be fulfilled the saying which is written, The just — the righteous in Jesus Christ — shall live ; shall not only be delivered from condemna- tion and death, but shall thrive in comfort, and flourish in holiness — How ? by reflect- ing on their sanctification, or viewing their own attainments ? No ; but by the infinite- ly more encouraging views of their complete- ness in Christ, and by a fresh, a repeated, a never-ceasing exercise of faith, Rom. i. 17, on that Holy One of God. This, I verily think, nay, this the apostle testifies, is the most effectual way of feeding that lamp, and quickening that flame, which, having cheered us in our earthly pilgrimage, will be brightened up into immortal glory in the heavens. Here they went in ; and after a slight re- freshment took coach. As they were re- turning home, Theron observed, not with- out concern, the changed and melancholy aspect of things in the territories of the husbandman. The fields of corn, which a little while ago were gracefully erect, or softly inclining to the breeze, lay sunk and flatted under the impetuous rains. Such, added Aspasio, such I apprehend will be our faith, if it aspires not after assurance, or if its assurance is erected on any endow- ments of our own. Ther. If this is the case, what can be the reason why so many people are totally destitute of all religious assurance ? have no notion of it, much less aspire aff^r it? and as to full assurance, they would be much surprised, perhaps highly disgusted, at the very 'mention of such a doctrine ? Asp. If people never aspire after the as- surance of faith, or an appropriating interest in Christ, I very much question whether they are truly awakened, or really in ear- nest. They are like the men of Ephraim, whom the prophet styles " a cake not turn- ed," Hos. vii. 8. Neither bread, nor yet dough ; neither absolute reprobates, nor real saints; or, as our Lord explains the proverb, in his charge against the church of Laodicea, they are " neither hot nor cold." Rev. iii. 15. Not frozen in insensibility, it is true ; at the same time not fervent in spirit, but indifferent and lukewarm in the con- cerns of religion. As to a full assurance, or the highest degree of this grace, was I to declare myself more explicitly upon this point, it should be in the calm and moderate words of a judicious divine : " 1 do not affirm, that without a full assurance there is no faith. But this 1 maintain, that wher- ever the latter exists, there will be a smcere pursuit of the former." Among the reasons why so few persons attain this eminent blessing, we may reckon the following: — They understand not the perfect freeness of grace, nor the immense merits of Christ: They never consider the unspeakable value of an assured faith ; neither are they aware that it is intended for the enjoyment of sinners : Either they seek it not at all, or else they seek it where it is not to be found ; from some works of righteousness in themselves, rather than from the gracious promise of God in his word ; which is altogether as ill-judged, and as sure to issue in disappointment, as if a person should go in quest of ice amidsc the torrid zone, or expect to find spicy islands under the northern pole. But whether people consider it or no, the value of an assured faith is indeed unspeak- able. When this is wrought in the heart, peace will stand firm, and afflictions drop their sting. Prayer will return laden with treasures, and death will approach stripped of its terrors. The soul will be as a water- ed garden, and all her graces blossom as a rose. When this is wrought in the heart, the gospel of Christ will appear with new charms, and operate with new energy. Its hymns will no longer be a strange language to your ear, nor its privileges as forbidden fruit to your palate. You will then, as you peruse each sacred page, feel it to be the power of God, and " taste that the Lord is gracious-" 1 Pet. ii. 3. You will rcajj a benefit, and enjoy a delight, as much supe- rior to those of the doubting reader, as the pleasure of eating this delicious peach is su- perior to the mere description of its agree- able relish. Bear with me a moment longer, Theron : For you can hardly imagine what an im- provement and exaltation this will give to every truth you contemplate, and every ob- ject you behold. W^hen you contemplate the rise of kingdoms, and the fall of em- pires ; when you recollect the many great and astonishing events recorded in the his- tory of nations ; how highly delightful must it be to say, " All these passed under the superintendency of that hand which was pierced with the bloody nail, and fastened to the cursed cross for me !" When you be- hold the magnificence of creation, and the richness of its furniture — the grandeur of nature, and the variety of her works — what a heightened pleasure must they all impart, if, as you view the glorious scene, your thoughts make answer to your eyes, " All these were brought into existence by that DIALOGUE XVII. 449 fedorable Person who sustained my guilt, and ivrought out my justifying righteousness !" O that we may possess this " precious faith !" 2 Pet. i. 1, that it may grow incess- antly, " grow exceedingly," 2 Thess. i. 3, till it be rooted like those full-grown oaks under which we lately walked, and ground- ed* like that well-built edifice which is still in our view. Tlier. I join with my Aspasio in this wish ; and must beg of him to inform me how I may attain so desirable a blessing. Asp. You have entirely cured me, The- ron, of making apologies : would to God I might be as successfully instrumental in de- livering my friend from his doubts ! that the gospel might come to us as it came to the Thessalonians, " not in word only, but in power and in the Holy Ghost, and in much assurance." 1 Thess. i. 5. Prayer is the first expedient. Every good gift is from above, and cometh down from the Father of lights. Christ is not only the object, but the author and finisher of our faith. " Lord, increase our faith !" was the request of his disciples, atid should be the prevailing language of our hearts. Lay up many of the divine promises in your memory. Stock that noble cabinet with this invaluable treasure. " Faith com- eth by hearing,"! Rom. x. 17, by meditating on, by praying over this word of life and word of grace. And never, never forget the free- ness with which the promise is made, and its good things are bestowed. You are to re- ceive the one, and apply the other, not with a full but with an empty hand ; not as a right- eous person, but as an unworthy creature. Make the trial. Exercise yourself in this great secret of true godliness. I am satisfied it will be productive of the most beneficial effects. Look unto Jesus as dy- ing in your stead, and purchasing both grace and glory for your enjoyment. Come unto God as a poor sinner, yet with a con- fident dependence : expecting all spiritual blessings through Him that loved you, and gave himself for you. " He that believeth," with this appropriating faith, " shall not be confounded." 1 Pet. ii. 6, nor frustrated in his expectations. " He that believeth," with this appropriating faith, " shall have the witness in himself," I John v. 10. Nothing will bring in such light and peace, such ho- liness and happiness to his soul. The Ephe- sians, thus believing, " were sealed with that Holy Spirit of promise,"^ Eph. i. 1.3. The * Rooted and grounded " t^^i^a///,itiiii xai nh/^i- Xieofiivoi. These are the apostle's beautiful ideas, or rather expressive similitudes, each comprehended in a single word. Eph. iii. 18. t On which account the scriptures are styled the words of faith, 1 Tim- iv. 6. t " UKrrivffavTis trfi^ayiffhTi, not after that ye beheved, ye were sealed ; but believing ye were dispersed of Israel, thus believing, " rejoiced with joy unspeakable," 1 Pet. i. 8. Those were marked otit as rightful heirs, these were blessed with some delightful foretasted and both were prepared for the complete fruition of life and immortality. O ! that we may " be followers of their example, and sharers of their felicity !" As for those doubts which have given you so much perplexity, and cost us so long a disquisition, look upon them as some of your graetest enemies. Oppose them with all the resolution and all the vigour of your mind. Nay, look upon those unreasonable doubts, as some of your greatest sins. Con- fess them with the deepest shame ; and pray against them with the utmost ardour. With equal assiduity and zeal, let us press after a steadfast, an immoveable, a triumph- ant faith. Faith is the vehicle and the in- strument of every good : " All things are possible to him that believeth," Mark ix. 23- Faith is the immediate and grand end of the whole gospel -. *' These things are writ- ten, that ye might believe," John xx. 31. Let us therefore covet, earnestly let us covet this best of gifts, and " shew all dili- gence to the full assurance of hope." Heb* vii. 11. DIALOGUE XVIL The next morning Theron ordered a cold collation to be prepared, and his pleasure- boat to hold itself in readiness. Breakfast being despatched, and some necessary orders relating to the family given — Now, says he to Aspasio, let me fulfil my promise ; or rather, let us execute our mutual engage- ment ; and consign the remainder of this mild and charming day to a rural excur- sion. We will take our route along one of the finest roads in the world -. A road incom- parably more curious and durable than the famous causeways raised by those puissant hands which conquered the globe : A road which has subsisted from the beginning of time ; and though frequented by innumer- able carriages, laden with the heaviest bur- dens, has never been gulled, never wanted repair to this very hour Upon this they stept into the chariot, and are conveyed to a large navigable river, about three quarters of a mile distant from the house. Here they launch upon a new element, attended sealed. In the way of believing, ye became partak- ers of this sealing and sanctifying fe^pirit. Conform- ably to the ex])ostulation of the apostle on another occasion, "Received ye the Spirit by the works of the law, or by the hearing of faith ?" 'd a 450 THERON AND ASPASIO. by two or three servants, expert at hand- ling the oar and managing the nets. Is this the road, replied Aspasio, on which my friend bestows his panegyric ? It is indeed more curious in its structure, and more durable in its substance, than the cele- brated Roman causeways; though Imustas- sure you, the latter have a very distinguish- ed share of my esteem. I admire them far beyond Trajan's pillar, or Caracalla's baths ; far beyond the idle pomp of the Pantheon, or the worse than idle magnificence of the amphitheatre. They do the truest honour to the empire ; because, while they were the glory of Rome, they were a general good ;* and not only a monument of her grandeur, but a benefit to mankind. But more than all these works, I admire that excellent and divinely gracious pur- pose to which providence made the empire itself subservient. It was a kind of road or causeway for the everlasting gospel, and af- forded the word of life a free passage to the very ends of the earth. The evangelical dove mounted the wings of the Roman eagle, and flew with surprising expedition through all nations. Who would have thought that in- satiable ambition, and the most bloody wars, should be paving a way for the Prince of humility and peace ? How remote from all human apprehension was such a design, and how contrary to the natural result of things was such an event ! Most remarkably, there- fore, was that observation of the Psalmist verified, " His ways are in the sea, and his paths in the great waters, and his footsteps are not known." Psal. Ixxvii. 19. Conversing on such agreeable subjects, they were carried by the stream through no less agreeable scenes. They pass by hills clothed with hanging woods, and woods ar- rayed in varying green. Here, excluded from a sight of the outstretched plains, they are entertained with a group of unsubstan- tial images, and the wonders of a mimic creation. Another sun shines, but stript of his blazing beams, in the watery concave ; while clouds sail along the downward skies, and sometimes disclose, sometimes draw a veil over the radiant orb. Trees, with their inverted tops, either flourish in the fair Eerene below, or else paint, with a pleasing delusion, the pellucid flood. Even the moun- tains are there, but in a headlong posture ; and notwithstanding their prodigious bulk, they quiver in this floating mirror, like the poplar leaves which adorn their sides. Soon as the boat ' advances, and disturbs * These roads ran through all Italy, and stretched themselves into the territories of France. They were carried across the Alps, the Pyrenean mountains, and through the whole kingdom of Spain. Some of them towards the south, reached even to Ethiopia, and some of them towards the north, extended as far as .Scot- land. The remains of several of them contmue m England to this day, though they were made, it.is pro- bable, above 1000 years ago. the placid surface, the waves, pushed hastily to the bank, bear off in broken fragments the liquid landscape. The spreading circles seemed to prophesy, as they rolled, and pro- nounced the pleasures of this present state — the pomp of power, the charm of beauty, and the echo of fame — pronounced them transient, as their speedy passage ; empty, as their unreal freight- Seemed to pro- phesy ! It was more, imagination heard them utter, as they ran. Thus pass the shadowy scenes of life away ! Emerging from this fluid alley, they dart amidst the level of a spacious meadow. The eye, lately immured, though in pleasur- able confinement, now expands her delight- ed view into a space almost boundless, and amidst objects little short of innumerable. Transported for a while at the numberless variety of beauteous images poured in sweet confusion all around, she hardly knows where to fix, or which to pursue. Recov- ering at length from the pleasing perplexi- ty, she glances, quick and instantaneous, across all the intermediate plain, and marks the distant mountains ; how cliffs climb over cliffs, till the huge ridges gain upon the sky ; how their diminished tops are dress- ed in blue, or wrapped in clouds : while all their leafy structures, and all their fleecy tenants, are lost in air. Soon she quits these aerial summits, and ranges the russet heath ; here shagged with brakes, or tufted with rushes ; there inter- spersed with straggling thickets or solitiuy trees, which seem, like disaffected partizans, to shun each other's shade. A spire, plac- ed in a remote valley, peeps over the hills. Sense is surprised at the amusive appear- ance ; is ready to suspect that the column rises, like some enchanted edifice, from the rifted earth. But reason looks upon it as the earnest of a hidden vale, and the siu-e indication of an adjacent town : perform- ing in this respect, much the same office to the eye as faith executes with regard to the soul, when it is " the evidence of things not seen." Heb. xi. 1. Next she roves, with increasing pleasure, over spacious tracts of fertile glebe, and cid- tured fields, where cattle of every graceful form, and every valuable quality, crop the tender herb, or drink the crystal rills. Anon, she dwells with the utmost complacency on towns of opidence and splendour, which spread the sacred dome, and lift the social roof ; towns no longer surrounded with the stern forbidding majesty of unpassable en- trenchments, and impregnable ramparts ; but encircled with the delicate, the inviting appendages of gardens and orchards ; those decked with all the soft graces of art and elegance, these blushing and pregnant with the more substantial treasures of fruitful nature. Wreaths of ascending smoke in- DIALOGUE XVII. 451 termingled with turrets and lofty 'pinnacles, seem to contend which shall get farthest fiom the earth, and nearest to the skies. Happy for the inhabitants, if such was the habitual tendency of their desires!* if no other contention was known in their streets. Villas, elegant and magnificent, seated in the centre of an ample park, or removed to the extremity of a lengthened lawn, not far from a beautiful reservoir of standing wa- ters, or the more salutary lapse of a limpid stream. Villages, clad in homely thatch, and lodged in the bosom of clustering trees. Rustics, singing at their works ; shepherds tuning their pipes, as they tend their flocks ; travellers pursuing each his respective way, in easy and joyous security- How pleasing, said Aspasio, is our si- tuation ! How delightful is the aspect of all things ! One would almost imagine that no- thing could exceed it, and that nothing can increase it. Yet there is a method of in- creasing even this copious delight, and of heightening even this exquisite pleasure. — Let me desire my friend, answered Theron, to explain his remark ; and not only to ex- plain, but to e.xemplify — If we view, re- sumed Aspasio, our own prosperous, and compare it with the afflicted condition of others, the method I propose will be re- duced to practice. Such a dark and mourn- ful contrast must throw additional bright- ness, even upon the brightest scene. Above, the skies smile with serenity; be- low, the fields look gay with plenty; all around the sportive gales Fanning their odoriferous wings, dispense Native perfumes; and whisper, whence they stole Those balmy spoils, f * This comparison, I think, cannot appear vulgar to those persons who ha\e read, and who reverence the book of Canticles. There the church, ascending continually in devout affections to her beloved Jesus and to her heavenly home, is characterised by this very similitude. Who is this that cometh out of the wilderness like pillars of smoke ? Csnt. iii. 6. Though it must be confessed, that this similitude, like many of the illustrations used in scripture, might have a sort of local propriety peculiar to the peo])le of that age, country, and religion. It might probably refer to those columns of smoke which arose from the burnt offering, or fumed from Jthe altar of incense. If so, this circumstance must give a solemnity and dignity to the idea, of which many readers are inot at all aware, and which indeed no modem reader can fully con- ceive. May I take leave to mention another comparison of this kind ? " The enemies of the Lord shall consume as the fat of lambs ; yea, even as the smoke shall they cousumeaway," Psalm xxxvii._20. As the fat of lambs, is not to us a striking representation. But to those who attended the altar, who saw the unctuous and most conbustible parts of the victim blazing in the Bacred fire, it presented a very lively image, which was still more apposite and significant, if tliis psalm was sung while the sacrifice was burning. None, I believe, in such a case, could forbear either observ- ing or admiring the beautiful gradation, " They shall perish as yonder fat which is so easily set on fire, and when once in a flame, is so speedily consumed. Nay, they shall be as the smoke, which is still more traii- sient, whose light unsubstantial wreaths but just make their appearance to the eye, and in a moment vanish into empty air." f Milton, book 4. With us, all circumstances are as easy as the wafture of the boat; as smooth as the flow of the stream. But let us not forget those grievous calamities which befal our brethren in some remote tracts of the earth, or distant parts of the ocean. How many sailors are struggling, vainly struggling, with all the fury of rending winds and dashing waves ! while their vessel, flung to and fro by tempestuous billows, is mounted into the clouds, or plunged in the abyss. Pos- sibly the miserable crew hear their knell sounded in the shattered mast, and see de- struction entering at the bursting planks. Perhaps this very moment they pour the last, dismal, dying shriek ; and sink, irre- coverably sink, in the all-overwhelming surge — The traveller, in Africa's barren wastes, pale even amidst those glowing re- gions, pale with prodigious consternation, sees sudden and surprising mountains rise ; sees the sultry desert ascending the sky, and sweeping before the whirlwind. ^Vhat can he do? whither fly? how escape the ap- proaching ruin ? Alas ! while he attempts to rally his thoughts, attempts to devise some feeble expedient, he is overtaken by the choking storm, and suffocated amidst the sandy inundation. The driving heaps are now his executioner, as the drifted heaps will soon be his tomb. While we possess the valuable privileges, and taste the delicious sweets of liberty, how many partakers of our common nature are condemned to perpetual exile, or chain- ed to the oar for life ! How many are im- mured in the gloom of dungeons, or buried in the caverns of the mines, never to behold the all-enlivening sun again ! While respect waits upon our persons, and reputation at- tends our characters, are there not some un- happy creatures, led forth by the hand of vindictive justice, to be spectacles of hor- ror and monuments of vengeance ? sentenc- ed, for their enormous crimes, to be broke limb by limb on the wheel, or to be impal- ed alive on the lingering stake- To these, the strangling cord, or the deadly stab, would be a most welcome favour ; but they must feel a thousand deaths, in undergoing one. And this, too probably, is but the beginning of their sorrows — will only con- sign them over to infinitely more terrible torment. While ease and pleasure, in sweet con- junction, smooth our paths, and soften our couch, how many are tossing on the fever's fiery bed, or toiling along affliction's thorny road ! Some under the excruciating but necessary operations of surgery ; their bo- dies ripped open, with a dreadful incision, to search for the torturing stone ; or their limbs, lopt off" by the bloody knife, to pre- vent the mortification's fatal spread. Some, emaciated by pining sickness, are deprived 452 THERON AND ASPASIO. of all their animal vigour, and transformed into spectres, even before their dissolution.* These are ready to adopt the complaint of the Psalmist : " I am withered like the grass : my bones are burnt up, as it were a firebrand ; I go hence like the shadow that departeth." While health, that staple blessing, which gives every other entertain- ment its flavour and its beauty, adds the gloss to all we see, and the gout to all we taste ; health plays at our hearts, dances in our spirits, and mantles in our cheeks, as the generous champaign lately sparkled in our glass. We are blessed with a calm possession of ourselves : with tranquillity in our con- sciences, and an habitual harmony in our temper ! whereas many, in the doleful cells of lunacy, are gnashing their teeth, or wring, ing their hands ; rending the air with vol- lies of horrid execrations, or burdening it with peals of disconsolate sighs. And O ! \vliat multitudes, even amidst courts and palaces, are held in splendid vassalage by their own domineering passions, or the vanities of a bewitching world ! far less in- nocently, far more deplorably disordered,! than the fettered madman, they are gnaw- ed by the envenomed tooth of envy ; they are agitated by the wild sallies of ambition ; or feel the malignant ulcer of jealousy rank- ling in their breasts. In some, avarice, like a ravening harpy, gri])es : In some, revenge, like an implacable fury, rages : While others are goaded by lordly and imperious lusts, through the loathsome sewers of im- pure delight ; and left, at last, in those hat- ed and execrable dens, where remorse rears her snaky crest, and infamy sharpens her hissing tongue Why this long pause ? replied Theron. Your observations are as useful as they are just. We should all be acquainted, at least in speculation acquainted, with grief; and send our thoughts, if not our feet, to visit the abodes of sorrow; — that in this school we maylearnasympathisingpityforour distress- ed fellow-creatures ; and see in this glass our inexpressible obligations to the distinguish, ing goodness of Providence, which has crowned our table with abundance, and re- * A very little excursion of thought will easily con- vince the reader, that there is no period of time, in which some of these calamities do not befal our fel- low-creatures, in one part of the world or another. t Give me any plague, says an apocryphal writer, but the plague of my heart, Ecclus. xxv. 13. Upon which judicious and weighty apothegm, Masinissa's speech in Mr. Thomson's Sophonisba, is a very per- tment and affecting paraphrase ; O ! save me from the tumult of thesoul ! From the wild beast within !— For circlino; sands. When theswift^whirlwind^whelmsjthem o'trlhe lands; The roaring deeps, that to the clouds arise. While thwarting thick the mingled lightning flies; The monster-brood, to which this land gives birth, The blazing city, and the gapnig earth. All deaths, all tortures in one pang combined. Are gentle to the tempest of the mind ! plenished our cup with delicacies ; permit- ting neither penury to stint the draught, nor adversity to mingle her gall. Go on, I must entreat you, with your description of com- parative felicity. We have a large circuit still to make, before we arrive at our intend- ed port ; and I could wish, that your dis- course might keep pace with the current. Since you approve the subject, answered Aspasio, I will pursue it a little farther — We, the inhabitants of this favourite isle, breathe an air of the most agreeable tem- perature, and most wholesome qualities. But how many nations languish under braz- en skies, vaulted as it were with fire ! They welter amidst those furnaces of the sun, till their " visage is burnt, and as black as a coal." Lam. iv- 8. What is far more dis- astrous, beds of sulphur, and combustible materials lie in subterraneous ambush, ready to spring the irresistible mine ; ere long, perhaps, on some day of universal festivity,* or in some night of deep repose, to be touched by heaven's avenging hand. Then with what outrageous violence will they burst ! rock the foundations of nature ! wrench open the ponderous jaws of the earth ! and swallow up astonished cities in the dark, tremendous, closing chasm ! These earthquakes, it may be, both pre- cede and portend "the pestilence that walk- eth in darkness, and the sickness that de- stroyeth at noon-day," Psal. xci. 6. They are, at once, a fearful omen and a ruinous blow. The stagnating atmosphere, rank with malignant vapours, becomes a source of deadly infection ; or, replete with poisonous animalculse, is one vast incumbent cloud of living bane. If the active gales arise, they arise only to stir the seeds of disease, and diffuse the fatal contagion far and near. Un- happy people ! The plague, that severer mi- nister of divine indignation, fixes her head- quarters in their blasted provinces ; and sends death abroad "on his pale horse," Rev. yi. 8, to empty their houses, depopulate their towns and crowd their graves. Our island is seldom visited with either fff these dreadful judgments ; and has never sustained any very considerable calamity from » There is a remakable passage in Psal. Iviii. 9, which seems to denote some such unexpected, but speedy and inevitable doom. The sense is darkened not a little by the version admitted into our liturgy. I believe the true translation may be seen in thefoUow- ing, and the true meaning learnecl from the interwoven paraphrase. — " Speedily, or before your pots can per- ceive the warmth of blazing thorns, shall he that rul- eth over all sweep away the wicked ; sweep him away by a stroke of righteous indignation, as by a fierce and mighty tempest ; so that, even from the fulness of his sufficiency, and the height of his prosperity, he shall be plunged into utter destruction. — The Hebrew word, which is very unhappily rendered raw. signifies a state ofprosperity or pleasurable enjoyment, 1 .^am. xxv. 6. The whole verse, in a gradation of striking images, gives us a most awful display of divine ven- geance; vengeance quitesudden, utterly irresistible, and overtaking the secure sinner, amidst all the ca- resses of wjiat the world calls fortune. DIALOGUE XVII. 453 ha former. However, let us not be presump- tuously secure. We have not long ago receiv- ed an awful warning. The road has been shaken ; or rather the sword has been bran- dished over our territories. Who can for- get the general consternation which seized our metropolis on occasion of the late earth- quake? And not without reason -. For, of all divine visitations, this is the most ter- ribly vindictive. The whirlwind is slow in its progress, war is gentle in its assaults, even the raging pestilence is a mild rebuke, com- pared with the inevitable, theall-overwhelm- ing fury of an earthquake. When it begins, It also makes an end, ] Sam. iii. 12, puts a period, in a few minutes, to the work of ages, ruins all without distinction ; and there is no defence from the destructive stroke. Should Almighty vengeance stir up again those fierce subterranean commotions ; should the Most High God bid strong con- vulsions tear tlie bowels of nature, and make the foundations of the world tremble like a leaf ; what " O ye careless ones," Isaiah xxxii. 1 L, what will you do ? whither will you fly ? See ! the pavement sinks under your feet. Your houses are tottering over your heads. The ground, on every side, cracks and opens like a gaping grave; or heaves and swells like a rolling sea. " A noise of crashing," Zeph. i. 10, is heard from with- out, occasioned by the rending streets, and falling structures. Thunders, infernal thun- ders,* bellow from beneath, mingled with despairing shrieks and dying groans from those wretched creatures, who are jammed between the closing earth, or going down alive into the horrible pit.f Where now * Before the overthrow of Catania by an earth- quake, a noise was heard, vast and horrid, as if all the artillery in the world was discharged at once. t Very memorable, and equally tremendous, is the account of the earthquake, that visited Sicily, in the year 1()93. — It shook the whole island The mischief it caused is amazing. Fifty-four cities and towns, besides an incredible number of villages, were either demolished, or greatly damaged. Catania, one of the most famous and flourishing cities in the kingdom, was entirely destroyed. Of 18,914 inhabitants, 18 OOd perished. Another earthquake, almost as dreadful, and in the same year, spread desolation through the colony of Jamaica. In two minutes time, it shook down, and laid under water, nine tenths of the town of Port- Royal. In less than a minute, three quarters of the houses, and the ground they stood on, together with the inhabitants, were quite sunk; and the little part left behind was no better than heaps of rubbish. The shock was so violent, that it ttirew people down upon their knees or their faces, as they were running about for shelter. The ground heaved and swelled like a rolling sea ; and several houses, still standing, were shuffled some yards out of their places. The earth would crack and yawn ; would open and shut, quick and fast. Of which horrid openings, two or tiiree hundred might be seen at once. In some whereof, the people went down and were seen no more. In some they descended, and rose again in other streets, or in the middle of the harbour. Some swiftly closing, seized the miserable creatures, and pressed them to death; leaving their heads or half tlieir bodies above ground, to be a spectacle of terror, and a prey to dogs. Out of others would issue whole rivers of water, spouted to a great height in the air, and threatening a deluge to that part which the will you fly ? To your strong towers ? They were shattered in pieces — To the strong rocks ? They were thrown out of their place. — To the open fields ? They are a frightful gulf, yawning to devour you. Wherever you fly ; in the wildness of your distraction, wherever you seek for shelter ; it shall be, " as if a man fled from a lion and a bear met him ; or went into the house, and lean- ed his hand upon the wall, and a serpent bit him." Amos v. 19. Yet there is one place of refuge, which will prove an inviolable sanctuary, and a perfect security. I mean, the great, the gracious, the adorable Redeemer's right- eousness. Hither let us betake ourselves. Now, before the day of desolation conieth, let us betake ourselves to this stronghold. Then shall we have no reason to fear, though the earth be moved, and though the hills be carried into the midst of the sea. For thus saitli God, the omnipotent and faith, ful God : " The sun and the moon shall be darkened, and the stars shall withdraw their shining. The Lord also shall roar out of Zion, and utter his voice from Jerusalem. The heavens and the earth shall shake ; but the Lord Jesus Christ will be the hope of his people, and the strength of the children of Israel." Joel iii. 15, 16. Or, if the tiue believer is involved in the same undis- tinguished ruin with the ungodly, even this shall turn to his gain. It shall exempt him from the lingering pains and the melancholy solemnities of a dying bed. Like Elijah's fiery chariot, it shall speedily waft his soul to the bosom of his Saviour ; while the hi- deous cavern, that whelms his body in the centre, shall be its chamber of rest till the beloved Bridegroom comes, and the day of resurrection dawns. We lift up our eyes, and behold the ra- diant colours which flush the forehead ot the morning; we turn, and gaze upon the no less beautiful tinges, which impurple the cheek of evening. We throw around our view, and are delighted with numberless forms of fertility, which both decorate and enrich our plains : whereas, other countries are over-run with immense swarms of lo- custs, which intercept, wherever they fly, the fair face of day ; and destroy, wherever they alight, the green treasures of the ground. Ah! what avails it, that the laborious hind sows his acres, or the skilful husbandman earthquake spared. Scarce a planting-house or sugar- work was left standing in all the island. Two thou- sand lives were lost, and a thousand acres of land sunk. The whole was attendetl with frightful noises, with brimstone blasts, and offensive smells. The noisome vapours belched forth, corrupted the air, and brought on a general sickness; which swept away mere than three thousand of those who escaped the fury of the earih'^»T;;a£/(r9-a:/, a beautiful word, rich with meaning, and not adequately trans- lated by make it your ambition, still more inade- quately by our common version. t Prov. ix. 9. The original phrase is only Give, which may signify, give admonition, as well as (what our version has supposed) instruction. Thus you open the debate : " In the se- cond Dialogue, is not the description often too laboured, the language too stiif and af- fected ?" I must confess, Sir, this animad- version seems to be as just, as the praise which you have here and elsewhere bestow- ed, appears to be lavish ; the former, if not more pleasing, may be no less serviceable than the latter ; for both I acknowledge my- self your debtor ; and if ever I attempt any thing more in the capacity of an author, I will be sure to keep my eye fixed on the caution you have given. I am sorry that the next words bring on a complaint so close to my acknowledg- ment. " You cite the pages according to the Dublin edition, having wrote the rough draught of what follows in Ireland." But should you not, in complaisance to your readers on this side the water, have refer- red to the pages of the English edition? For want of such reference, there is hard- ly distinction enough in some places to know which are your words, and which are Aspasio's. Should you not also, in jus- tice to the author, before you transcribed the rough draught for the press, have consulted the last edition of his work ? which, you well knew, was not the copy from which the Irish impression was taken, yet might reasonably suppose to be the least inaccurate. When I read your next paragraph, I am struck with reverence, I am ashamed and almost astonished at the littleness of the preceding observations ; stiffiiess of style, and a thousand such trifles, what are they all, compared with justification before the infinite and immortal God ? This is a sub- ject that commands our most awful regard, a blessing that should engage our whole at- tention. As this is the grand article to come under our consideration, 1 would de- sire to maintain an incessant dependance on <82 LETTERS TO THE the divine Spirit, that my thoughts may be influenced, and my pen guided, by the wis- dom which Cometh from above ; that I may neither pervert the truth by any erroneous representations, nor dishonour it by an un- christian temper. It would be easy to make use of bitter satire, and disdainful irony, the contemptuous sneer, or the in- dignant frown. And indeed. Sir, you have laid yourself open to every attack of this kind ; but these are not the weapons of a Christian's warfare. Non defensoribus istis. t t;it.uf. \\ hether it be faith, which he would intrucluce for this purpose, or repentance, or sincere obedience, or what- ever else he pleases, according to the mea- sure of these works or graces, must be the degree of justification ; and not only as to ditierent persons, but as to the same person, at different times. Farther ; since all these endowments are, so long as we continue in the present state, imperfect, our justification must, according to this plan, unavoidably partake of their imperfections. It cannot be entire and lacking nothing, till mortality is swallowed up of life — But how contrary is this to a cloud of witnesses from the Scriptures ! " Ye are (even now) justified. He hath (even in this present time) reconciled you to God." Through tlie birth and death of Immanuel, there is not only peace on earth, but good-will towards men ; m'ioxia, favour, complacency, and love, from the holy God to the fallen soul. And is not this com- plete justification ? " There may be as many degrees in the favour, as in the image of God." This objection turns upon a supposition, that the favour of God towards us, is occasioned by the image of God in us ; which is the doc- trine of the law, the very language of Hea- thenism, and has not a savour of that gos- pel, in which Christ is all. And I think myself more concerned to remove such very REV. MR. WESLEY. 503 prejudicial mistakes, than to sift and adjust any nice speculations relating to degrees of the divine favour. Aspasio has touched this point. Referring you to his observa- tion, I shall confine myself to a more inte- resting subject. It is Christ who has redeemed us to God, to the favour and fruition of God, by his blood ; by his blood alone, without any aid from our goodness, or any co-operation from any creature. His work pleases God ; his work magnifies the law ; his work is incomparably the noblest of all things in heaven or earth. This, therefore, is our recommendation to the divine Majesty. In- terested in this, we stand perfectly righte- ous before the King immortal, and shall be eternally acceptable in his sight. It was only on account of Abraham's supplication, that God showed compassion to Abime- lech ; it was only on account of Job's in- tercession, that the Lord was pacified to- wards his three friends ; and it is only on account of Christ's righteousness, that the high and holy One beholds any child of Adam with complacency and delight. To Jesus alone belongs the honour of reconcil- ing, justifying, saving the innumerable mil- lions of redeemed sinners. And is not the Lamb that was slain worthy to be thus hon- oured, and thus exalted ? Is, then, our own internal and external goodness of no avail in this matter? — Let us hear the eloquent Isaiah, the evangelist of the Jewish churcli : " The lofty looks of man shall be humbled, and the haughti- ness of men shall be bowed dov\Ti ; and the Lord (the Lord Jesus Christ) alone shall be exalted in that day." Does this text, it may be said, relate to the gospel, and the case of acceptance with God ? Or is it possible to make what follows consistent with such an interpretation? Let us see whether it be not by the Holy Ghost him- self, made perfectly consistent with such a sense. The day of the Lord of hosts, in the pro- phetical Scriptures, generally and principally signifies the time of the gospel dispensation ; when the Lord puts the finishing hand to his revelation, gives the brightest display of his grace, and gathers together all things in Christ. This day, and its influence, shall cause a wonderful revolution in what is called the religious, virtuous, moral world :It shall fall like a thunderbolt upon every idol set up in the hearts of men ; shall prove their wisdom to be folly, their ability to be impotence, all their works to be worthless. This prophecy being so repugnant to our notions, and so disgustful to our inclinations, is asserted and enforced with the greatest particularity, both as to persons and to things. As to persons. — " For the day of the Lord of hosts shall be upon" — whom ? Upon the sordid wretch, or the scandalous sinner? Ra- ther upon " everj one that is proud and lofty in his own conceit ;" pluming himself with the notion of some imaginaiy pre-eminence over his neighbour. It shall be likewise upon " every one that is lifted up" in the es- teem of others ; either on account of Roman virtue, or Athenian philosophy, or phari- saical zeal ; and, notwithstanding his aspiring pretensions, or glittering accomplishments, " he shall be brought low," shall be degrad- ed to the rank of a lost, undone, helpless sinner. So that none shall have it in his power to say, " I am better than thou. I stand upon more honourable terms with my Maker, and am a fitter object for his favour." They shall all be like prisoners confined in the same dungeon, and liable in the same con- demnation. Every one of them equally des- titute of any plea for justification ; and all of them, as to acceptance with their Creator, without any diflFerence. No difference, in this respect, between the accomplished gen- tleman and the infamous scoundrel j no dif- ference between the virtuous lady and the vile prostitute : no difference at all as to the way and manner of their obtaining salvation. So that the whole may appear to be of grace. As to things. — This part of the subject is illustrated by a grand assemblage of images, comprehending all that is most distinguish- able in the visible creation, and denoting whatever is most admired or celebrated among the sons of men. Oaks and cedars are the most stately productions of vegetable na- ture : Therefore " the day shall be upon all the cedars of Lebanon, and upon all the oaks of Bashan." Hills and mountains are the most conspicuous and majestic elevations of the earth : Therefore " the day shall be upon all the high mountains, and upon all the hills that are lifted up." Towers and cities are the most magnificent works of hu- man art : Therefore " the day shall be upon every high tower, and upon every fenced vvall." The ships of Tarshish are put for the wealth, the advantages, and the various im- provements procured by navigation and com- merce. Pleasant pictvres may represent every elegant and refined embellishment of civil life. The whole collection of met- aphcrs secmsto express all those attainments, possessions, and excellencies, which are sup- posed to add dignity to our nature, or stabi- lity to our hopes ; to constitute a portion in which v/e ourselves may rest satisfied, or a recommendation which may entitle us to the favour of heaven. Yet all these things, before the require- ments of God's law, and before the revela- tion of his righteousness, shall be eclipsed and disgraced ; thrown to the bats, and con- signed over to obscurity ; thrown to the 504 moles, and trampled into the dust. So that in the pxn-suit of eternal life none shall regard them, or elseregard them only to despise them. Thus says the prophet a second time. To render the work of humiliation effectual, he redoubles his blow. May our whole souls feel the energy of his vigorous expressions! Thus " shall the loftiness of man be bowed down, and the haughtiness of men shall be laid low." All notion of personal excel- lency set aside, they shall be base and vile in their own eyes, acknowledge the impossibi- lity of being reconciled by any duties of their owTi, and place all their confidence on the propitiating death and meritorious obedience of Jesus Christ ; They less than nothing, he all in all. With this important sentiment I close my letter ; not without an ardent wish, that it may sink into our thoughts, and dwell upon both our hearts. Yours, &c. LETTER V. Reverend Sir, — Your last, and several of your other objections, appear more like notes and memorandums, than a just plea to the public, or a satisfactory explanation of your opinion. They have rather the air of a caveat, than a confutation ; and we are often at a loss to discern, how far your remonstrance is either forcible or apposite. Brief negatives, laconic assertions, and quick interrogatories, opened by no perti- nent illustrations, supported by no scriptur- al authority, are more likely to stagger, stun, and puzzle, than to settle our notions in I'e- ligion. You seem. Sir, to have forgotten, that propositions are not to be established with the same ease as doubts are started ; and therefore have contented yourself with a brevity which produces but little convic- tion, and more than a little obscurity. This brevity of yours is the cause, and I hope will be the excuse, of my prolixity ; which, I perceive, is growing upon my hands, much more than I intended. If you had been pleased to show your arguments at full length, and to accompany with proof your glosses upon Scripture, the reader would then have been able to determine the preponderating evidence between yourself and Aspasio ; and my trouble had been con- siderably lessened, perhaps quite spared. An instance of the foregoing remark is the objection which follows. " St. Paul often mentions a righteousness imputed," says Aspasio. " Not a righteousness, (says Mr. Wesley,) never once ; but sim- ply righteousness." St. Paul mentions Iik- ' aiixTur/t, the righteousness which is imputed, both with and without the Greek article. And do neither of these signify a righteous LETTERS TO THE to me, as it is nice in itself. Besides, where is the difference between a righteousness, and righteousness. Is not every righteous- ness a righteousness ? Is not every person a person ? and every prodigious refinement, a prodigious refinement? I thought Mr. IVesley had known how to employ his time better than in splitting, or thus attempting to split, hairs. To what purpose. Sir, is this excessive refinement ? Many of your readers, I ap- prehend, will find it difficult to conjecture. For my own part, I freely confess, that I could not for a considerable time discern your aim. Nor can I, even now, discover any other design, than a forced endeavour to exclude the righteousness of Christ, and in- troduce a mistaken something of your own to officiate in its stead. As the thread of your criticism is spim extremely fine, we must examine it with the closest attention. But first let me just take notice — That Aspasio, in consequence of his ob- servation deduced from the apostle's lan- guage, asks, What or whose righteousness can this be ? To which Mr. Wesley an- swers, " he tells you himself; faith is im- puted for righteousness." But have you never read Aspasio's interpretation of this text? If not, be so impartial as to cast your eye upon the tenth Dialogue. There he considers this passage at large, and lays before you his exposition of the words ; not imposing it without assigning a reason ; but, together with his exposition, present- ing you vvith the grounds of his 0])inion. If you can overthrow them, try your strength and your skill. They stand ready to re- ceive your attack, being at present in full possession of the field. However, if you will not advert to his thoughts, allow me, if I can, to penetrate yours. " St. Paul never mentions a right- eousness, but simply righteousness." Thus, I presume, you argue : — Not a righteous- ness ; that might seem to denote some real righteousness, some actual conformity to the divine law, imputed to sinners for their justification. Whereas, if faith be substi- tuted instead of this real righteousness ; if faith be all that to us, which our own obe- dience to the law should have been, and which Aspasio supposes the righteousness of Christ is appointed to be ; if faith itself be all this to us, then we are made righte- ous without a righteousness. Something is accounted to us for righteousness, which is really no such thing. Then we shall be under no necessity of submitting to the righteous- ness of our God and Saviour, but may easily be furnished out of our own stock. Is not this, or something like this, your way of reasoning? Do you not, in this manner, understand faith imputed for right- eousness? Not as deriving ail its efficacy, REV. MR all its significancy, from its most magnifi- cent object ; but as being itself the efficient of justification, the very thing for which we are accepted : in opposition " to the wick- ed and vain commentaries of the Calvinists, which say, that all this is resident in Christ, and apprehended by faith." This led me to use that singular expres- sion, "a mistaken something;" since this is an egregious mistake of faith — of its nature, its end, its import. Of its nature : For it is a going out of self, and a flying to Christ, for pardon, for peace, and for every spiri tual blessing. Of its end : For it is or dained to preclude all boasting, that itself may be nothing ; that its owner may be nothing ; that the grace of God, and tl righteousness of Christ, may be all in cui. Of its import : For it says, according to the prophet. In the Lord, not in myself, have I righteousness. It would expostul- ate in the words of the apostle, with its overweening and doating admirers. Ye men of Israel, why look ye so earnestly on me, as though by my own power or dignity I had procured your reconciliation, and ren- dered you accepted ? The God of Abra- ham, Isaac, and Jacob, has glorified his Son Jesus, and appropriated this honour to his obedience and death. In the matter of justification, it is my business, not to furnish a contingent, not to supply any ]jart, but to receive the whole from his ful- ness. " On Christ's death sinners are to rely as the cause of their forgii-eness ; on Christ's obedience, as the ground of their acceptance." — " How does this agree with other places ?" Be pleased to turn back, Sir, to the places to which you allude ; and, with a vevy little attention, you will perceive the agreement. Then let me desire you to turn inward ; and }-ou will probably discern more than a little disingenuity in your owii procedure ; since you resolve to stop your ears against the author's explanation, his very particular explanation and restriction of his own mean- ing. * If you was examining a mathemati- cal system, you would always carry in your memory the leading problems or introduc- tory axioms. If you did not, your own judgment would blame you. And when you neglect to do the same in canvassing a theological treatise, does not your own con- science reprove you ? " Our Lord commends such kinds of be- * Aspasio, speaking of the obedience and death of Christ, professedly declares, " However, therefore, I may happen to express myself, I never consider them as acting in the exclusive sense ; but would always haTe them understood, as a grand and glorious aggre- gate. Looking upon our Saviour's vmiversal obedi- ence, which commenced at his incarnation, was car- ried on through his life, and terminated in his death ; looking upon all this, in its collective form, as the object of myfaith, and the foundation of my hope." . WESLEY. 505 neficence only, as were exercised to a dis- ciple in the name of a disciple." Here Mr. Wesley asks, « Is not this a slip of the pen ?" Read the passage. Sir ; and answer yourself. What are our Lord's words? '' Inasmuch as ye have done it to these my brethren." Have you not then as much reason to charge our divine Master with a slip of the tongue, as to charge Aspasio with a slip of the pen ? It is undeniably plain, that he does in fact commend only such kinds of beneficence as were exercised towards his brethren. And I i)resume you will readily grant, that his brethren, the no- bler relation, cannot be more extensive than his disciples, the inferior. " Will not our Lord then commend all kinds of beneficence, provided," &c. Ex- cuse my cutting short your speech. You are rambling from the point. What Christ \vill do, is quite another question. Aspa- sio neither denies nor affirms any thing on this subject. All that he considers is, what appears to be really done, in that particular description of the last day, and its awful process. Nor will he scruple to affirm, a second time, that oiu- Lord applauds such acts of beneficence only as were exercised to a disciple, to believers, to his brethren. The righteous Judge specifies this sort of munificence, because it is a siu-e indication of one begotten by the word of truth. It is a test, which none but the saints and faith- ful in Christ Jesus will come up to. And a Christian is most properly distinguished, not by what he does in common with others, but by the different principle from which he acts. Of this particularity Aspasio takes notice, on purpose to warn, as well as to exhort his readers : Exhort them, that they may abound in works of generosity : Warn them, that their works may spring from the right source — faith in the divine Redeemer. You are not willing to call works of be- neficence, though exercised to a Samaritan or a Heathen, " transient bubbles." No more is Aspasio, in the sense and manner which you woidd insinuate. He calls them such, not absolutely, but relatively : Not in themselves, but with respect to an affair in- finitely too great for them to transact, either in whole or in part. In this view (as rela- tive to justification) St. Paul calls them dung, which is despicable and sordid. Sure- ly then Aspasio may call them bubbles, which are showy but insignificant. I do not call the desk on which I write, a mere egg-shell ; Yet I should not hesitate to say, it is scanty as an egg-shell, if appointed to transport an army to the Indies ; feeble as an egg-shell, if set np as a wall of munition against a battery of cannon. " How must Christians exceed the Scribes and Pharisees?" To this Aspasio replies : Not only in being sincere, in having re- 506 LETTERS TO THE spect unto all God's commandments ; but also in possessing a complete righteousness. Nor can this be any thing less than the per- fect obedience of our great Mediator." — " Did our Lord mean this? Nothing less." Peremptorily affirmed ; but not so easily proved. Yes, you add ; " He specifies in the following parts of his sermon the very instances wherein the righteousness of a Christian exceeds that of the Scribes and Pharisees." He does so. But is it not an absolutely complete righteousness ? A meekness, without the least emotion of re- sentment. A purity without the least strain of evil concupiscence A love, a long-suf- fering, a perfection, such as our Father which is in heaven exercises. Now, if this does not exceed the righteousness of all the Christians in the world, or if this is to be found in any character, save only in the character of our great Mediator, I retract, most freely retract, my opinion. The discourse relates to that righteous- ness by which we are saved, or by virtue of which we enter into the kingdom of heaven. And why. Sir, why will you not resign the honour of obtaining salvation, to the most blessed Immanuel's blood and obedience? Why will you hedge up your people's way to the immortal mansions, by teaching them to depend upon duties and attainments of their own ? Should any one, hearing this doctrine, that the law of the ten command- ments requires perfect, sinless obedience ; that none can be delivered from the wrath to come, or enjoy eternal life, without this imsinning, perfect obedience; should such a one, struck with surprise and anxiety, in- quire, " Who then can be saved?" — what answer would Mr. Wesley give ? The an- swer we would make is obvious, and full of consolation : " No man, by his owii perform- ances. But salvation is to he sought, sal- vation is to be obtained, by the righteous- ness of another, — even by the consummate obedience of our Lord Jesus Christ." " He brings this specious hypocrite to the test." — " How does it appear, (yon ask), that this young ruler was a hypocrite ?" It appears from his conduct, for he came kneel- ing to our Saviour, as one sincerely desir- ous of learning his duty ; yet, when instruct- ed in it, he would not perform it. It ap- pears from your own character of him. You say, "He loved the world." Then the love of the Father was not in him. That he pretended to the love of God, is evident from his own words : That he had no real love, is certain from your own acknowledg- ment. If pretence \vitliout reality be not hypocrisj', please to inform us what is. It is f^-thei apparent, from your descant on the case : " Therefore he could not keep any of the commandments in their spiritual sense." And it is a sure, as well as impor- tant truth, that wnosoever pretends to keep the commandments, yet does not keep them in their spiritual meaning, is a deceiver of himself, a deceiver of others — a hypocrite. " The keeping of the commandments, (says Mr. Wesley,) is undoubtedly the way to, though not the cause of, eternal life." How then came it to pass that our Lord Jesus Christ should declare, " I am the way ?" The way to wh;it ? To the favour of God, to the fruition of God, to every spiritual blessing ; or, in other words, to eternal life. After such a claim, from such a person, may I not, without the imputation of undue confidence, deny your assertion in yoiu: own form of speech ? " The keeping of the commandments undoubtedly cannot be the way to eternal life ;" since this is an honour, this is a prerogative, which the all- glorious Redeemer has challenged to him- self. Hence your distinction between the way to, and the cause of, appears to have no countenance from Scripture. And will it not, upon a review, appear to have as little support from reason ? Cast your eye upon yonder bridge : — It is thrown over a deep and wide river ; it is the way, the only waj', whereby I cross the water, and arrive at the opposite bank. If so, is it not likewise the cause of my safe arrival on the other side ? There may be, in this case, other causes, concomitant or subordinate : but the bridge is the grand one ; that which every body chiefiy regards, and to which my passage is always ascribed. Christ therefore is the way, the only way, to life and immortality. By his precious blood, and by his divine righteousness, we pass the gulf of wrath and destruction. By the things which he has done, by the pains which he has endured, we enter the realms of peace and joy. Accordingly, we are ex- horted " to walk in him ;" and are assured, that as many as walk in this way " shall renew their strength." This is what the apostle calls " the new and living way." This is what the Psalmist styles " the way ever- lasting ;" and though other ways may " seem right imto a man, yet the end thereof are the ways of death." ," A doubt, perhaps, may arise in the rea- der's mind, suggested by the words of the prophet, "an highway shall be there, and a way, and it shall be called the way of ho- liness." True. The way is Christ the in- carnate God, with all his gifts, privileges, and blessings. " It shall be called the way of holiness." Isa. xxxv. 8.* None can en- ter and advance therein, yet continue car- nal a"ad unclean. All that travel this road renounce the hidden things of darkness, and » See a treatise by Dr. Owen, entitled Communion with God. REV. MR. WESLEY. 307 do the works of righteousness. It does not indeed find, but it assuredly makes the pas- sengers righteous ; and though holiness is not tlieir way, yet it is a prineii):il part of their business while they walk in Christ. Aspasio, having occasion to speak of Abraham's faith, quotes the word of the apostle, " By works his faith was made per- fect." Which he thus explains, " His faith hereby answered its proper end, and appear- ed to be of the true, of the triumphant, the scriptural kind ; since it overcame the world, overcame self, and regarded God as all in all.'' To this Mr. Wesley replies, with the solemnity of a censor, and the authority of a dictator, " No. The natural sense of the words is, by the grace superadded, while he wrought those works, his faith was lite- rally made perfect." Your proof, Sir. What have you to make good this interjjre- tation ? There is not a word in the text about grace superadded, this is not assigned as the cause of a perfected faith. Nay, the sacred writer expressly assigns anotlier : " By works," says St. James, " his faith was made perfect." No, says jMr. Wesley; but by grace superadded. St. James affirms one thing, Mr. Wesley affirms the contrary ; and who am I that 1 should decide between two such disputants? But I believe the reader will, without my interposal, easily choose his side. Perhaps yon will reply, If this is not the true sense, produce a better. One less op- posite to the natural import of the words, and the apparent meaning of the apostle, is already produced. Do you insist upon an- other ? I will then refer you to abler judges. Shall I send to an expositor whom you your- self admii'e ? Dr. Doddridge thus comments upon the text, " His faith was perfected by works ; the integrity of it was made fully apparent to himself, to angels, to God." Shall I remit you to an expositor who can neither deceive nor be deceived ? The God of glory says, " My strength is made perfect in weakness." Made perfect! How? Is there any such thing as a supperaddition to God Almighty's power, while he exerts it in behalf of his people ? This none can ima- gine. But it is hereby manifested, to their comfort and his glory. The same word is used concerning Abraham's faith, and con- cerning the God of Abraham's strength. WTiy then should it not be understood in the same sense ? Here it is nXii^Tai ; there it is iriXiiu^n. And in both places it signi- fies, not literally " made perfect," but illus- triously displayed. Shall I send you to a familiar illustration ? I view from my window a young tree. The gardener when he planted it, told me it was a fruit-tree, a pear-tree, a right heaute de roi. It may be such a tree, and have its respective seed in itself; but this did not then appear. If, when autumn arrives, its branches are laden with fruit, with pears, with that delicious kind of pears, this will be a demonstration of all those properties. This will not make it such a particular tree, no, nor make it a good and fruitful tree ; but only shew it to be of that fine sort, or make its nature and perfections evident. '' St James speaks of the justification of our faitli ;" thus proceeds Aspasio : and thus replies Mr. AVesley ; " Not unless you mean by that odd expression, our faith being made perfect." I mean, such a perfection of faith as is mentioned above. Other per- fection I find not, either in books or men. Were faith perfect, in your sense of the word, love, joy, and all holiness would be perfect likev.-ise. Correspondent to the principle would be the state of the produc- tion. There would be no longer any cause for that petition which the disciples put up, "Lord, increase our faith:" Nor for that supj)lic-ation which you and I, so long as we continue members of the Church of England, mr.it use, " Give unto us the in- crease of faith, hope, and charity." You call the justification of our faith an " odd expression." Is it not founded on the tenor of the apostle's discourse ? Is it not the native result of the apostle's inquiry, " Shew me thy faith ?" Prove it to be real and unfeigned : prove it by such acts as de- monstrate you trust in Jesus alone for ever- lasting life. If it stands this test, we shall acknowledge it to be that precious faith whose author is God, and whose end is sal- vation. Is not that a justification of faith, which displays its sincerity, and renders it without rebuke? Somewhat like this would be reckoned a justification of any person, or of any other thing ; and why not of faith ? Something you see, Sir, may be said in vindication of this expression. However, if it be thought improper ; if it tend to create any confusion in our sentiments, or to draw off oiu' attention from that grand idea which is pecidiar to the word justification, (the idea, I mean, of being made righteous before God), I freely give it up ; I will alter it in my book, and use it no more. " He that doeth righteousness, is right- eous." He manifests the tnith of his con- version, and justifies his profession from all suspicion of insincerity. " Nay," says Mr. Wesley, " the plain meaning is, he alone is truly righteous, whose faith worketh by love." Your exposition may be true, and Aspasio's no less true. I leave the reader to deter- mine which is most exactly suitable to the apostle's arguing. He is speaking of the Christian righteousness ; that which renders us righteous before God ; that which flesh and blood could never have discovered; which therefore was graciously revealed in the gospel, and is the principal subject of 508 LETTERS TO THE gospel preachin*. As then there were, and always would be, many pretenders to the noble privilege, St John lays down a maxim or a touch-stone, to distinguish the sincere from the hypocrite. He that uniformly doeth righteousness in a way of sanctifica- tion, he, and he only, is to be acknowledged by us as truly righteous by way of justilica- tion. Far be it from me. Sir, to be fond of wrangling. Where you hit upon the truth, or come pretty near it, I shall never be eager to oppose. On the contrary, I shall be very desirous to agree, and preserve as much as possible, both the unity of opinion and the harmony of affection. Your own interpretation shall take place ; only let your working be the sign and fruit of a righteous state, not that which makes or constitutes us righteous. The righteousness of fallen creatures is not of themselves, but of me, saith the Lord. It is brought in and ac- complished by him whom God hath set forth to be their mediator and surety ; so that we are made righteous, not by doing any thing whatsoever, but solely by be- lieving in Jesus. Our character as the re- deemed of the Lord, is a/ s« "jrtrios ; men having their existence, their subsistence, their all, by faith. Hence it comes to pass, that we really are what the apostle affirms in the following words, "righteous, even as he is righteous ;" not barely righteous, as the moral Heathens, by dint of human reso- lution ; not barely righteous, as the reputa- ble Jews, by the iniiuence of their legal sanctions ; but righteous with that ^•ery righteousness which adorns, and exalts, and will eternally distinguish the only begotten Son of God. It remains to be inquired, whi^t faith is most likely to operate in this excellent and happy manner ? I mean, to work by love. Let me illustrate the point by a short apo- logue ; then release the readei' from his at- tention, and the writer from his task. A certain king had two favourites, whom he honoured with his peculiar regard, and enriched with a ceaseless liberality. They both, insensible of their vast obligations, became traitors and rebels. Being convict- ed of treason against their sovereign, he was determined to evercome their evil with good. Accordingly, when they had nothing to plead in their own behalf, he generously forgave them both : The one he dismissed from prison, and suffered to live unmolest- ed on his ])rivate inlieritance ; the other he restored to all his high preferments, and public employs — he adorned him again with the robe of honour, and admitted him again into the bosom of favour. — Which of them now will feel the warmest affection for their sovereign ? which of them will be most ready to serve him on all occasions, and, if need be, to hazard even life in his defence ? He, doubtless, on whom most was bestowed. And is not that person most likely to work and obey from a principle of love, who believes that his divine Lord has not only borne the curse, but fulfilled the di- vine \d.\\' for him ? has given him not barely an exemption from punishment, but a title to eternal life ? Yea, has clothed him with his own most perl'ect and glorious righte- ousness; by virtue of which he will, ere long, be presented faultless before the throne of judgment, and have an abundant entrance into the everlasting kingdom. Will not the faith of such unspeakably rich grace pacify the conscience, and purify the heart ? Awaken gratitude to our heavenly benefac- tor, and enkindle zeal for his glory? Cause us to discharge all the duties of our station cheerfully, and withstand every alhu'ement to evil resolutely ? Surely we may say of this faith, what David said of Goliath's sword. There is none, there is nothing like it. For all these blessed purposes it is beyond com- pare, and, I should think, beyond dispute efficacious. That you. Sir, may know more of this faith, and dispute less against it, is the sincere and fervent wish of, &c. LETTER VI. Reverend Sir, — As this Letter may probably be pretty long, I shall not increase the prolixity by a preface, but enter upon it, without any farther introduction. " Whoso doeth these things (saith Da- vid) shall never fall." Which Aspasio thus interprets, " Shall never fall into final apos- tasy." You are pleased to reply, " David says no such thing ; his meaning is. whoso doeth these things to the end, shall never fall into hell." It would be a great won- der, I must own, if he should ; but if he happens to fail at some times, and in some instances, what becomes of him then ? How- ever, let you and I, Sir, be at as little vari- ance as possible. AVhere is the extraordi- nary difference between yourself and Aspa- sio ? If a professor of religion falls into hell, must he not previously fall into final apos- tasy ? And if he falls into final apostasy, nmst he not inevitably fall into hell ? When you insert the clause, " to the end," do you interpret ? do you not rather ijiterpolate the sacred text? The words of the Psalmist relate to the present time, doeth, not shall do. They contain an en- couragement to those who, at this present instant, bring forth the fruits of evangelical righteousness. The encouragement is de- duced from the comfortable doctrine of final perseverance. It carries this cheering im- j)jrt, " Whosoever believes in Jehovah, aa REV. MR. AVESLEY. 509 laying all his sins upon Christ, and giving him eternal life freely ; whosoever, from this principle of faith, sincerely loves, and willingly obeys God, he shall never fall." The words are, " he shall never be moved." A phrase common among the Hebrews to denote the stability of a man's happiness. An immoveable thing never falls, either one way or other ; so this righteous person shall never fall, either into final apostasy, which is the greatest misery here, or into hell, which is the consummation of misery here- after. But I begin to apprehend what you mean, and of what you are jealous. Your excla- mation unravels all, " How pleasing is this to flesh and blood !" Under favour. Sir, I cannot conceive how this doctrine should be pleasing to flesh and blood- Flesh and blood, or corrupt nature, is proud. Any scheme of perseverance to be accomplished by our own strength, would indeed be agree- able to the vanity of our mind ; but a per- severance founded on the fidelity and the power of God — a perseverance which ac- knowledges itself owing, not to any human sufficiency, but to an union with Christ, and the intercession of Christ — this is a disgust- ing method — that is what the natural man cannot away with. You will find the ge- nerality of people utterly averse to it. Flesh and blood will not submit either to be made righteous before God by the im- puted righteousness of Christ, or to be made faithful imto death by the never-failing faithfulness of Christ. Try your friends, try your followers, try your own heart on this point. To the humble believer, I acknowledge, this is a most pleasing and consolatory doc- trine. He who feels his own impotence, who knows the power of his inbred corrup- tions, and is no stranger to the wiles of his spiritual enemy : he will rejoice in the thought that nothing shall pluck him out of his almighty Redeeemer's hand ; that his advocate with the Father will suffer neither principalities, nor powers, nor life, nor death, nor things present, nor things to come, nor any other creature, to separate him from the love of God. Without such a persuasion, we might too truly say of the Christian's joy, what Solomon said of world- ly merriment, " I said of laughter, it is mad ; and of mirth, what does it ?" If he who is to-day basking in the divine favour, may before the morrow be weltering in a lake of fire, then joy, even joy in the Holy Ghost, is unreasonable ; and peace, even that peace which passeth all understanding, is chimer- ical,— a building without a basis ; at least, a bowing wall, and a tottering fence. Let us examine the doctrine which Mr. Wesley says is so pleasing to flesh and blood ; or, in other words, to carnal people. What is the thing which the Psalmist teaches, and Aspasio professes ? That the persons who are described in the Psalm,* shall never apostatize from the true faith, or from true obedience. Is this so agreea- ble to carnal people ? Is it not rather un- warrantable in ]\Ir. Wesley to suppose that carnal people either possess true faith, or perform true obedience, or can be pleased with either ? Especially since the apostle assures us that the " carnal mind is not sub- ject to the law of God, neither indeed can be." Besides, are not the duties mentioned by the Psalmist offensive to flesh and blood ? Do they not require, or imply, the mortifi- cation of our carnal appetites, and the disci- pline of our unraly affections ? Can it be a welcome piece of news to flesh and blood, that this mortification shall take place ? in- stead of being remitted, shall increase? and never, never be discontinued, till mortality is swallowed up of life ? If so, the old man which is corrupt must be pleased with the curb, and the dagger must delight in its o^vn restraint, and its owm destruction. Such a paradox we must believe before we can es- pouse Mr. Wesley's notion. That flesh and blood are pleased with the doctrine of a fin- al perseverance in self-denial, in righteous- ness, and true holiness. " Should your repentance be without a failure, and without a flaw, I must still say to my friend, as our Lord replied to the young ruler, ' One thing thou lackest.' In all these acts of humiliation, you have only taken shame to yourself; whereas, a righte- ousness is wanting, which may magnify the law, and make it honourable." These are Aspasio's words ; upon which Mr. Wesley animadverts : " One thing thou lackest, the imputed righteousness of Christ ! You cannot think this is the meaning of the text." Neither does Aspasio affirm this to be the meaning ; he only uses the words by way of accommodation. Could you demonstrate that our Lord intended no such thing, yet the sentence may not improperly express Aspasio's opinion ; and if so, be not unfit for his use. However, let us inquire into the exact meaning of the text. A very little search will yield the desired satisfaction. — " Sell all thou hast, and give to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven." Treasure in heaven was what the young gentleman lacked. Could this be any other than Christ himself? Is not Christ the treasure hid in the field of the gospel ? Is not Christ the inheritance reserved in heaven for us ? Is not a communion with Christ, and an en- * The xvth Psalm, I apprehend, describes the per- fect character : That perfection which Christ really fulfilled ; and is the righteousness in which God is well pleased. 510 LETTERS TO THE joyment of Christ, the supreme felicity of I our nature ? David was of this miud when I he i)ublicly declared, " Whom have I in heaven but thee ?" St. John was of this mind when he solemnly averred, " He that hath the Son, hatli life." Whoever is of another mind, has very inadequate, very un- worthy notions of heaven and its happiness. Now, if Christ himself was the one thing needed, surely his righteousness could not be secluded. His blood and obedience in- separably accompany his person. He that hath the bridegroom, hath his riches also. In opposition to this sense it is affirmed, " Certainly the one thing our Lord meant was the love of God." The love of God is certainly an eminent blessing ; possess- ed, I should imagine, only by those who have first obtained eternal life, by knowing the true God, and Jesus Christ. But does our love of God magnify the law, satisfy justice, or obtain heaven ? Are we par- doned, are we reconciled, are we justified, on account of our love of God ? The young ruler wants that which may open to him the kingdom of heaven, and that where- by he may inherit eternal life. Mr. Wes- ley, setting aside pardon, reconciliation, jus- tification, together with the one perfect righteousness which procures them, ascribes all to our love of God ; and, by this means, not to the true love arising from the know- ledge of him as manifested in the gospel, as having first loved us, in granting us remis- sion of sins freely through Jesus Christ. This notion may pass current at Rome, not among the Protestant churches. Our own church has most expressly disclaimed it. Speaking of Christ and his precious blood- shedding, she adds, " Whereby alone we are made partakers of the kingdom of hea- ven." " Is the obedience of Christ insufficient to accomplish our justification ?" Here you would correct both the language and the doctrine. The language ; for you say, " ra- ther I would ask, is the death of Christ in- sufficient to purchase it." To pir faith, as your conditional scheme sup- poses, but hy faith. By accepting the bless- ings mentioned, by looking upon them as your own through the divine gift, and by living in the delightful enjoyment of them ; thus our hearts are won to God, and filled with his love ; thus they are weaned from vanity, and renewed in true holiness. Is the satisfaction made by Christ's death sufficient to obtain both our full pardon and our final happiness ? Aspasio has answer- ed this question in the negative. He has confirmed his opinion by the authority of Scripture and the testimony of reason. Mr. Wesley thinks it enough to reply, " Un- questionably it is snflicient, and neither of the texts you cite prove the contrary." How easy, by this way of arguing, to over- throw any system, and silence demonstra- tion itself! But pray. Sir, be pleased to recollect yourself: Did you not, a little while ago, extol Aspasio as " unquestiona- bly right," because he made the universal obedience of Christ, from his birth to his death, the one foundation of his hope? Yet here you condemn him as " unquestionably wrong," because he does not attribute all to Christ's death exclusively. Will Mr. Wesley never have done with self-contra- diction ? Why will he give me such re- peated cause to complain, Quo teneam vul- tus, &c. ? If tt was requisite for Christ to be bap- tized, argues Aspasio, much more to fulfil the moral law. " I cannot prove (replies Mr. Wesley,) that either the one or the other was requisite, in order to his purchas- ing redemption for us." Why then do you admit his obedience to the moral law as an essential part of the foundation of your hope ? A tottering foundation methinks, which is laid in a doctrine you cannot prove. But if you cannot prove it, may not others prove it for you ? You are not call- ed to prove this point, Sir, but only to dis- prove what Asi)abio has advanced in con- firmation of it. That it was requisite for our Lord to be baptized, he himself acknow- ledges. Speaking of that sacred rite, he says, " Thus it becometh us to fulfil all righteousness." It becometh : was it not requisite for Christ always to act the be- coming part ? in every circumstance to de- mean himself according to the utmost de- corum and highest dignity of character ? " This was not requisite to purchase re- demption for us." For what then was it re- quisite ? Not to wash away any stain from the holy Jesus ; not to obtain any blessed- ness for the Son of the highest : since, as the Son of the eternal God, he had an un- doubted right to all the blessings of heaven and earth, of time and eternity. \ / " But it was not requisite that he should fulfil the moral law." No ! Do you then establish the law ? Are not you the Anti- nomian, who would have sinful man saved, yet the divine law not fulfilled either by them or their Surety ? This is a strange way of magnifying the great standard of all righteousness ! Rather, it is the sure way of dishonouring and debasing it. What says our Lord ? "I came, not to destroy the lavvj^but to fulfil," Matth. v. 17. Did this signify, as some expository refiners sug- gest, only to vindicate and illustrate the law, to explain its highest meaning, and res- cue it from the false glosses of the Scribes, the business might have been done by the prophets and apostles : No occasion for the King of heaven to appear in person : His ambassadors might have transacted the whole afiair of vindication and explanation. But to fulfil every jot and tittle prescribed in its commands, to suffer all the vengeance and the whole curse denounced in its pe- nalty— this was a work worthy of the Son of God — practicable by none but the Son of God — and, being executed by him, is truly meritorious of pardon and life for poor sin- ners ; of their restoration to the divine fa- vour, and of their admission into the hea- venly kingdom. The moral law is inviolable in its nature, and of eternal obligation. This is a truth of great importance : With this is connect- ed, and on this depends, the absolute ne- cessity of a vicarious righteousness. lam no longer surprised that you dispute against the latter, since you question or deny the former. But consider what our Lord says farther upon this subject, in the fifth of St. Matthew and the eighteenth verse. Per- haps you will reply, " I have both consi- dered it, and expounded it in my SL-imons." You have ; but in such a manner as J hope you will live to retract. Thus you expound the awful text, and turn it into a piece of unmeaning tautology. " One jot or one tittle shall in no wise pass, till heaven and earth pass j or as it is expressed immediate- REV. MR. WESLEY. 523 \y after, till all (oi rather, all tldnys) be ful- filled, (till the consummation of all things)." You would make £&»»• av TaoiXSn o ■a^a.tot kki n yn and lait a» vratra yi)ii,ra.i, synonymous phrases, expressive of the same thing. Thus stands the passage, interpreted ac- cording to your criticism ; " Till the con- summation of all things, one jot or one lit- tle shall in no wise pass from the law, till the consummation of all things." See to what miserable subterfuges a man of learn- ing is driven, in order to evade the force of a text which militates strongly for the me- ritorious obedience of Christ. How much more just, more noble, more useful, is the common exposition, and the obvious meaning? Which we may thus in- troduce, " These are the terms of life and happiness to man ; whosoever falls short, God himself pronounces accursed." And will the Unchangeable go back from his purpose, make abatement in his demands, or come to a composition with his crea- tiu'es? No, verily. " He is of one mind, and who can turn him, Job xxiii. 13. It were easier for heaven and earth to pass," for all nature to be unhinged, and the uni- verse to drop into dissolution, " than for one jot or tittle of this unalterable law to pass without a perfect accomplishment"t in every the minutest instance. " By Christ's sufferings alone the law was not satisfied," says Aspasio. " Yes, it was," replies Mr. Wesley. Then all the indefa- tigable and important labours of his life, all his exemplary and shining graces, must be mere superfluities. At least they could have no merit, but were necessary only by way of setting us an example. The prophet was of another mind ; " The Lord is well pleased for his righteousness sake." By this righteousness, not barely by his sufferings, "he will magnify the law, and make it honourable," Isa. xlii. 21. The apostle was of another mind : " God sent forth his Son made of a woman, made un- der the law." What ? Only to bear its curse ? Only to undergo its penalty ? Not to fulfil its preceptive part ? which is con- fessedly the principal part in every law ; and to enforce which all penalties are add- ed. You yourself ought to be of another mind ; for you have already, and truly ob- served, that pardon and acceptance always go together. " In the same moment that God forgives, we are the sons of God." And wherefore ? The reason is, because the sufferings of a sinner, and the obedience * Sermons by John Wesley, vol. ii. p. l^3. t " The word all (says Mr. Wesley) does not mean all the law, but all things in the universe." How forc- ed a construction ! How contrary to grammar ! since the law, and the things which it comprehends, are the immediate antecedent. How much more proper- ly and consistently has Dr. Doddridge explained the passage ! " Till all things which the law requires, or lorctelis, shall &e ejj'ecttd." of a Son, went together in the Redeemer ; and without this union the redemption of man had not been complete- " The law required only the alternative — obey or die." Some of your errors are less considerable ; this I take to be a first- rate mistake. According to this supposi- tion, Cain, and Judas, and all the damned, are righteous. Because they die, they bear the curse, they suffer everlastingly ; and thereby conform to one of the law's alterna- tives. One of the law's alternatives ! No. Here I am wrong : It is one of your alter- natives. The divine law knows no such thing. No law on earth knows any such thing. Sanctions and penalties annexed to a law, are never looked upon as equivalents to obedience ; but only as preservatives from disobedience. In all the compass of your reading, have you ever met with a law that makes such proposals to its subjects : " Con- form to the regulations established, and you shall enjoy my privileges, you shall share my honours ? Or, if you choose to violate all my wholesome institutions, only submit to the penalty, and you shall have an equal right to the immunities and preferments ':"' " The law required no man to obey and die too." But did it not require a trans- gressor to obey and die ? If not, then trans- \ gression robs the law of its right, and vacates all obligation to obedience. Did it not re- quire the Surety for sinful man to obey and die ? If the Surety dies only, he only delivers from punishment; but this affords no claim to life, no title to a re- ward, unless you can produce some such edict from the court of heaven, " Suffer this, I and thou shalt live." I find it written, " In keeping thy commandments there is great I reward." Nowhere do I read, " In under- going thy curse, there is the same reward." Whereas, when we join the active and pas- sive obedience of our Lord, the peace-speak- ing blood with the life-giving righteousness — both made infinitely meritorious and in- finitely efficacious by the divine glory of his person, — how full does our justification ap- pear ! How firm does it stand ! It has all that the law can demand, both for our exemp- tion from the curse, and for our title to bliss. Before I take my leave of this topic, let me make one supposition, for which your way of thinking affords the juster ground. Suppose our Lord Jesus Christ had yield- ed a perfect conformity to the precept, without ever submitting to the penalty; would this have been sufficient for the jus- tification of a sinner ? Here is one of your alternatives performed. Upon the foot of your principles, therefore, it would, it must have been sufficient. But this is so wild an opinion, so contrary to the whole current of Scripture, that to produce it, is to refute it. Wlicrc Scripture ascribes the whole of 524 LETTERS TO THE our salvation to the death of Christ, a part of his humiliation is put for the whole. To this Mr. Wesley objects, " I cannot allow it without proof." I wish you would re- member the golden rule, of doing as you would be done by ; and .since you insist upon proof from others, not be so sparing of it in your own cause. I wish likewise you would impartially consider what Aspasio has ad- vanced upon the subject. Has he not given you the proof you demand ? No ; " He was obedient unto death" is no proof at all. But is that the only thing urged ? If one argument is inadequate, must all be incon- clusive ? Because you have routed one de- tatchment, have you therefore conquered the whole army ? However, let us see whe- ther this detachment, weak as you suppose it, may not be able to sustain your attack. Does not the Scripture ascribe the whole of your salvation to the death of Christ ? To this question Aspasio replies, " This part of our Lord's meritorious humiliation is, by a very usual figure, put for the whole. The death of Christ includes not only his sufferings, but his obedience. The shed- ding of iiis blood was at once the grand in- stance of his sufferings, and the finishing act of his obedience : in this view it is con- sidered, and thus it is represented by his own ambassador, who, speaking of his di- vine Master, says, ' He was obedient unto death, even the death of the cross.' " " This (you reply) is no proof at all, as it does not necessarily imply any more, than that he died in obedience to the Father." How do some people love to cramp the enlarged, and debase the magnificent sense of Scripture ! Surely this text implies, and not implies only, but forcibly expresses, both the active and passive obedience of Christ. It is not asiiayit, he died ; but yi- vofiivos v-rnxoo;, he became obedient. Can you see nothing of his active righteousness in these words ? For my part, I can see very little besides. This is what the following clause confirms(letcommon sensebe judge) : Obedient, not barely in death, but ^lnto death ; like that expression of Jehovah by the prophet, " Unto hoary hairs will I carry you." Does not this give us a retrospect view of youth and manhood, as well as lead our attention forward to old age ? In like manner, obedient unto death : Does not this refer us to all the previous duties and vir- tues of a righteous walk; while it leads us to the closing scene of all, a resigned exit ? Does it not most naturally mean, obedient through the whole course of life, even to the last all-completing instance, a voluntary sub- mission to death ? How easy and obvious is this interpretation ! How grand and graceful is this meaning ! I can no more admire yoiur taste, consi- dered as a critic, than I can admire yoiif doctrine, considered as a divine. Give ine the expositions of Scripture which act, not like the nocturnal damp, but like the morn- ing sun ; not shrivelling and contracting, but opening and expanding those flowers of paradise, the truths of the gospel, that they may display all their charming beauties, and breathe out all their reviving odours. I think, upon the whole, we have very suffi- cient cause to assert, and to abide by our assertion, that when the Scripture ascribes the whole of our salvation to the death of Christ, a part of his humiliation is put for the whole ; and, in thus speaking, the Holy ,( Spirit copies after himself : For if the death ) inflicted on the first Adam included every ; evil consequent upon the fall — the depravity as well as the misery of the creature — it was meet that the death to which the second j Adam submitted should include every good j needful for our recovery ; the obedience as ■ well as the sufferings of the Redeemer. It • was meet that the price, expressed by the i same word, should be as extensive as the puin'shment. " But how does it appear that he under- took this before the foundation of the world?" At what time does Mr. Wesley suppose that Christ undertook the work ? Not till sin entered and man apostatized ? Was it then an incidental upstart expedient, fetched ' in to remedy some unforeseen disaster ? Was it a device which owed its birth to some un- expected contingency, occasioned by the perverseness of the creature ? Far, far from it : It was the grand, original, all-compre- hending plan ; the way in which God, long before time commenced, decreed to mani- fest the glory of his grace, and the lustre of all his perfections. The world was made as a proper theatre on which to display and ex- ecute this most magnificent scheme ; and all the revolutions of human [affairs, like so many under-plots in the drama, are subser- vient to the accomplishment of this capital design. '« Known unto God are all his works;" determined by God are all his counsels, " from the beginning of the world;" more especially this grandest of all the di- vine dispensations, this masterpiece of his unsearchable wisdom. "But was this by a positive covenant be- tween Christ and the Father ?" Aspasio proceeds to illustrate and confirm the doc- trine of an everlasting covenant between the almighty Father and his co-equal Son. He produces several texts of Scripture, to each of which you object as insufficient for his purpose. Each of your objections I shall answer only by adding a short com- ment, explanatory of their spirit and force, " This proves no previous contract :" That is, I deny it; and therefore you cannot REV. MR. WESLEY. .525 prove your point. " Neither does .this jirove any such thing:" That is, I cannot or will not see the proof; and therefore there is none. " That expression does not necessarily imply any more" — than I please to allow. " In the way or method he had chosen ;" of which I am the sole complete judge, and my judgment ought to be deci- sive in the case. Thus would Mr. Wesley have, not Aspasio only, but the public also, receive his dictates (tanquam a tripode) as absolute oracles ; for here is only bare as- sertion, or bare denial, without any vouch- ers but his own word, without any authori- ty but his own declaration. In Psalm the xlth, the conditions of the covenant are circumstantially recorded, which were the incarnation and obedience of the eternal Son : " A body hast thou prepared me : Lo ! I come to do thy will." '• Nay, here is no mention of any covenant, nor any thing from which it can be inferred." How many times shall I adjure thee, said Ahab to Micaiah, that thou tell me no- thing but that which is true? And how many times shall I entreat Mr. Wesley to object nothing, without assigning some rea- son for his objection ? At least not to think of convincing my judgment, and con- verting me to his opinion by a bare smj so. But I have done. Perhaps I have tres- passed upon the patience of the reader in expressing my disappointment so frequent- ly ; perhaps I may also bear too hard upon Mr. Wesley in asking for proofs, when it may be no small difficulty to produce them. To return : " Nay, here is no mention of any covenant, nor any thing from which it can be inferred." That the word covenant is not mentioned is very true ; that there is no reference to any such thing, is not sO certain. Let us consider the whole pas- sage : " Sacrifice and burnt-offering thou didst not require." If sacrifices and slain beasts are not the object of the divine com- placency, in what will the Lord delight ? The next words declare, " A body hast thou prepared me :" Since the law cannot be ful- filled without doing, nor justice satisfied without di/ing, " Lo ! I come," (says the second person in the Trinity,) " to under- take both : Since this undertaking must be accomplished by one who is finite, that he may die, and infinite, that he may conquer death, I will accomplish it in the divine and human nature. For this purpose, a body hast thou prepared me : in this body, lo ! I come, willingly and cheerfully I come, to ])erform, to sustain, to fulfil all ; and so to do thy great, thy gracious will." May we not rationally suppose this spoken by way of re-stipulation, or compliance with the Father's demands ? that the matter is thereby brought to a solemn contract ? Dr. Hammond thought this no irrational supposition ; therefore gives us upon the following words a perfectly corres])onding comment. In the volume of the hook it is written of me : — " Which is no other than a bill or roll of contract between the Father and Christ, wherein is supposed to be writ- ten the agreement preparatory to that great work of Christ's incarnation ; wherein he, undertaking to fulfil the will of God, toper- form all active, and also all passive obedi- ence, even unto death, had the promise from God that he should become the author of eternal salvation to all that obey him." Thus says our learned countryman. And what says the blessed apostle ; whose ex- position and application of the passage you seem to have forgotten, at least not to have thoroughly weighed ? Having quoted the passage, argued from it, and displayed the benefits obtained by this all-sufficient pro- pitiation, he adduces a text from Jeremiah relating to this very subject, and explaining its nature : " Whereof the Holy Ghost al- so is witness." Of what ? Of the justifica- tion and sanctification of sinners, both found- ed on, both effected by, the sacrifice of the dying Jesus : Transactions which both the prophet and the apostle consider under the notion of a covenant, as is plain from the following quotation : " For after that he had said before. This is the covenant which I will make with them in those days." Hence it appears that the author to the Hebrews saw something in the words of the Psalmist from which the doctrine of a covenant might be inferred. Another copy of this grand treaty is re- corded, Isaiah xlix. from the first to the sixth verse. " I have read them, but can- not find a word about it in all those verses ; they contain neither more nor less than a prediction of the salvation of the Gentiles." They contain a prediction, and somewhat more ; they describe the way whereby this most desirable event shall be brought to pass. This the Lord himself declares shall be by way of covenant : " I will give thee for a covenant to the people." This verse we may look upon as a key to the preced- ing. It teaches us to consider them as de- scriptive of the august covenant ; of its es- tablishment, its parties, and its terms. In- deed the verses themselves lead us to the same view : For what is a covenant ? A contract wherein a condition is prescribed, a promise is made, and both are ratified by a mutual agreement. The condition is pre- scribed in those words : " Thou art my servant, O Israel,* in whom I will be glori- * Israel is the name of the church, often given to her in this prophecy. Christ and hi.s church, by vir- tue of the union between thtin, have the same names. .\s she is sometimes called by his name, " The LorJ our righteousness," so he is here callctl by her najuc, Israel. Jfce Jer. xxxiii. 10. 5S6 LETTERS TO THE fied." The promise is made in those words : «' Thou shalt raise up the tribes of Jacob, restore the preserved of Israel, and be my salvation unto the ends of the earth." The agreement is specified or implied in those words • " I have spent my strength for nought; yet surely my judgment is with the Lord, and my work with my God." The great Vitvinga, after having expound- ed the whole clause, concludes in this man- ner : " Antequam ab his verbis, sensu fcE- cundissimis, summam doctrinaj evangelicse complexis, discedam, monere velim, eadem clarissime deformare totum mysterium con- ventionis pacis, inter Deum patrem et Mes- siam filiam ejus, in humana carne apparitu- rum, initae, perinde ac in locis quie ex aliis excerpo ; Psalm xl. 7; Zech. vi. 13. Pa- ter ut Dominus, fiiio ut Messite, offert glo- riam longe amplissimam, meditationis et salvationis Judajorum et gentium, qute glo- ria, omnium qute mente concipi possunt, est maxima, sub lege sive sub conditione profundissimi obsequii servilis ; eaque sti- pulatio utrinque rata habetur."* If, upon a stricter review, this prophecy be found to express no such thing as a co- venant, I am very willing to give up the proof: So much the rather as it makes no part of Aspasio's discourse ; is only just mentioned in a note ; and stands not in the main body, liut only as a corps de reserve. " By the covenant of woi'ks, man was bound to obey in his own person." Here you take Aspasio up very short, and reply, " So he is under the covenant of grace, though not in order to justification." This is the very thing he means : Nor could you easily have mistaken his meaning, if you had only done him so small a piece of jus- tice as to read the whole paragraph j of which, since you seem either willingly, or through inadvertence, to be ignorant, I will beg leave to transcribe it : — " Between the covenant of works and the covenant of grace, this, I apprehend, is the difference : by the former, man was indispensably bound to obey in his own person ; by the latter, the obedience of his surety is accepted instead of his own. The righteousness required by both is not sincere, but complete j not proportioned to the abilities of fallen man, but to the purity of the law, and the majesty of the lawgiver." You see the whole argu- ment turns upon a complete righteousness, such as satisfies the law, and is an adequate ground for justification. This, I imagine, fallen man is not obliged by the covenant of grace to perform ; if so, we shall be at a loss to find any such a thing as grace ; if so, we can have no hope of obtaining salva- tion with eternal glory. There will be too much reason for applying to all mankind those awful words of the prophet, " In the day thou mayest make thy plant to grow, and in the morning thou mayest make thy seed to flourish ; but the harvest shall be a heap, in the day of grief and desperate sor row." Blessed be God, the melancholy strain is superseded. Though the terms in the first covenant were a perfect obedience, though the terms once fixed continue unalterable, yet in the new covenant there is a change and substitution as to the performer, without any relaxation as to the performance. In- stead of personal obedience, we are justified through the obedience of our Mediator, " we are made the righteousness of God in him :" That is, we are furnished with a plea as prevalent for our justification and ad- mission into the divine favour, as if we had retained our innocence untainted, and in every respect conformed ourselves to the righteousness which the law of God re- quires." Thus, the salvation of sinners neither clashes with the truth, nor interferes with the justice of the supreme Legislator : On the contrary, it becomes a faithful and just procedure of the most high God, to justify him that believeth on Jesus. " The obedience of our Surety is ac- cepted instead of our own." " This is neither a safe nor a scriptural way of speak- ing." That the obedience of Christ is ac- cepted for our justification, is a doctrine warranted by Scripture; it may, therefore, very justly be reckoned a scriptural way of speaking. And if his obedience is accept- ed for this purpose, our own, were it ever so considerable, could come in for no share of the work ; our own, though ever so gor- geously arrayed, must stand aside, or be cast into shades, just as the stars hide their diminished, or rather extinguished heads, when the sun appears in his meridian splen- dour : Because the obedience of Christ is of infinite dignity and value ; and infinite value is such as not only transcends all other services, but renders them mere no- things in the comparison. For this rea- son the apostle counted all endowments but loss for Christ ; and the prophet represents all nations as nothing before God. " I would simply say, we are accepted through the Beloved." If you rightly un- derstood what is meant when the apostle speaks of being accepted in the Beloved, you would have no fault to find with Aspa- sio's comment. St. Paul means we are ac- cepted, not by any obedience performed in our own persons, but solely by the obedi- ence of that infinitely excellent, and infinite- ly beloved one, Christ Jesus ; whose righte- ousness being imputed to us, and put upon * ViTRlNC. in lot. * 2 Cor. V. 21. This is Dr. Doddridge's interprera- lion of the passage ; and it speaks a noble, a joyful truth. REV. MR. WESLEY. 5-27 us, causes us not only to be pardoned, biit to be highly esteemed, dearly beloved, and blessed with all spiritual blessings. Here I cannot but observe that you have changed the apostle's expression. He says, " Accepted in the beloved ;" you say, " Ac- cepted through the beloved." I am willing to believe this was an oversight ; you had no sinister design ; but still I think you should take more heed to your pen, and not alter the inspired word, lest you blemish the language, or injure the sense. Perhaps you will ask, what difference is there between accepted througlt, ami accepted in, the Be- loved ? I will illustrate the difference by a similitude. A creditable housekeeper gives a good character to a servant that leaves him, by virtue of which he is accepted, and admitted into some other valuable employ. This character is his introduction, yet this makes no addition to his real value. Ac- ceptance through the Beloved, may import no more than such an admission through such a recommendation ; whereas, accepted in the Beloved implies not only a recom- mendatory passport from Christ, but a real union with Christ ; whereby we are incor- porated into his sacred body, and partake as truly of his righteousness as the members partake of the life which animates the head. By this our persons are really ennobled ; this imparts the highest dignity to our na- ture : We are not only recommended to, but rendered meet for the favour, the com- placency, the beatific presence of God, be- ing one with Jesus, and therefore loved even as Jesus himself is loved." " The second covenant was not made with Adam or any of his posterity, but with Christ in those words." " For any autho- rity you have from these words, you might as well have said it was made with the Ho- ly Ghost." No: Christ, not the Holy Ghost, was the seed of the woman. This is an answer much in your own strain. But let us consider farther. You allow, I presume, that the first co- venant was made with Adam, as our public federal head ; that all his posterity were in- cluded in it, being to stand or fall together with him : Herein, says the apostle, " Adam was a figure of him that was to come-" If so, the second covenant must be made with Christ, as our public federal head : He and all his seed are included in it ; and as it was impossible for him to miscarry, they must be joint partakers of the benefits. Accord- ingly, he is styled the Mediator of the new covenant, by whose most acceptable and pre- vailing interposition all its blessings are ob- tained : He is styled the Surety of the co- • John xvii. 23. " They in mc," says our Lord. Therefore, on this account, or viewed in this lolation, " Thou hast lox-otl them, as t'.ou hast loved me.'' venant, engaging to pay the whole debt for poor insolvent creatures — the debt of penal suffering, and the debt of perfect obedience : The Testator of the covenant, whose are its riches, and whose are its privileges ; who has also of his unbounded goodness bequeath- ed them as so many inestimable legacies to indigent men. Methinks those are such charming truths, such divinely comfortable doctrines, that you should consider them thoroughly befoie you oppose them, lest you do a greater act of unkindness to your read- ers, than that which is charged, though very injuriously, upon Job : " Thou hast stripped the naked of their clothing, and sent widows away empty." And when you are disposed to consider these points thoroughly, ask yourself this question : Is it possible to con- ceive that Christ should be the Mediator, the Surety, the Testator of the covenant, if it was not made with him, and the execu- tion of it undertaken by him ? Or is it pos- sible to suppose that the all-glorious Son of God should be the Mediator, tbe Surety, the Testator of the covenant, yet leave others to perform the (onditions; which are in- comparably the most important, interesting, and difficult parts of the transaction ? " These words were not spoken to Christ, but of him." True, of him as given for a covenant of the people. " There is not the least intimation of any such covenant." You will not deny that Christ is signified by " the seed of the woman." It is said, He shall ; a language expressing authority, and requiring conformity. As Christ is the su- preme uncontrollable God, this could not be required, and would never have been said without his actual consent : here then is implied his approbation of the office. It is farther said, " The serpent shall bruise his heel ;" he shall become incarnate, and after a life of much sorrow, and many tribu- lations, shall be put to a most tormenting death : here is the condition of the covenant. It is added, " He shall bruise the serpent's head ; shall destroy the works of the devil, and repair the ruins of the fall ; shall deliver from the wrath deserved, and recover the inheritance forfeited -." here is the recom- pense or reward of the covenant. Should you ask. Is it supposable that Adam understood the words in this compass of meaning ? Perhaps not. But if we do not understand them in a more exalted and extensive sense than our first father, what advantage do we reap from the full revela- tion of the gospel ? The full revelation of the gospel pours as much light upon this, and other of the ancient oracles, as the ex- periments of our modem anatomists have poured upon the structure and economy of the human body. This grand original text, read w ith the comment of the New Testa- ment, speaks all that Aspasio has suggested 528 LETTERS TO THE all that our fiillen state could want, or our very hearts can wish. You have mustered up several objections, yet there is room for more ; I will therefore for once act as your auxiliary, and turn against Aspasio. He supposes the coven- ant to be made with Christ ; whereas the Scripture represents the covenant as made with various men, particularly and personal- ly, in various ages. True, it is recorded that God made a covenant with Abraham, with Isaac, with Jacob, and with David the father of Solomon : But were they in a capacity to enter into covenant with their Maker ? to stand for themselves, or be sure- ty for others ? I think not : the passages mean no more than the Lord's manifesting, in an especial maimer, the grand covenant to them ; ratifying and confirming their per- sonal interest in it ; and farther assuring them that Christ, the great covenant head, should be of themselves, and spring from their seed. This accounts for that remarkable and singular mode of expression, which often oc- curs in Scripture, " I will make a covenant with them ;" or, " This is my covenant with them." Yet there follows no mention of any conditions, only a promise of uncondi- tional blessings ; because the former have already been performed, and nothing re- mains but to confer the latter ; so that the meaning of the divine speaker is — I will ad- mit them to an interest in this covenant, and make them partakers of its privileges. I should now conclude, but Mr. Wesley will not suffer me to quit the subject. He farther insists, " The words manifestly contain, if not a covenant made with, a pro- mise made to Adam and all his posterity." If not : He begins to hesitate in his assei- tion, to fluctuate in his opinion, and, I could hope, to see his mistake. " The words contain a promise." And have you never read, that the covenant of God, or the va- rious renewals and ratifications of the cove- nantof grace, are styled covenants ofjnomise? which consist of pure promises, and dis- pense free gifts- Observe the tenor of the new covenant, as it stands engrossed by the pen of inspira- tion : " This is the covenant which I will imake with the house of Israel after those days, saith the Lord : I will put my laws into their mind, and on their hearts will I write them ; and I will be to them a God, and they shall be to me a people. And they shall not teach every man his neigh- bour, and every man his brother, saying, Know the Lord ; for all shall know me, from the least of them even unto the great- est of them. For 1 will be merciful unto their unrighteousness, and their sins and their iniquities will I reme.uber no more." Where are your conditions in this draught ? Where are any terms required of impotent man ? Is it not all jironiise from the be- ginning to the end ? That repentance, and that faith, for whose conditionality you plead, are they not both comprehended in this heavenly deed? and comprehended under the form of blessings vouchsafed, not of tasks enjoined? Does the contract run in this manner, I require and comma7id? or in this strain, I grant and bestow? The Lord says, " I will put my laws, I will write them." The work shall not be laid on my creatures, but done by myself. " They shall be my people, and I will remember their sins no more-" What ! Provided they perform such and such duties ? I read no such clause : I see no such proviso. All is ab- solutely free ; dependent on no performances of ours ; but flowing from sovereign, su- preme, self-influenced goodness. Just such is that delightful declaration, " I will make an everlasting covenant with them, that 1 will not turn away from them to do them good ; but I will put my fear in their heart, that they shall not depart from me." What you call conditions, must be comprised in my fear. This is represented as a singular benefit which God imparts, as a gracious temjier which God implants ; and both as dependent, not on the fideUty of man, but on the power and veracity of God. Another of your conditions, I pre- sume, is perseverance unto the end. This, in the covenant of grace, is not enjoined, but secured ; secured, not by a strict pro- hibition of apostasy, but by the omnipotent interposition of Jehovah : " I will put my fear (so put my fear) into their hearts, that they shall not depart from me ;" shall never draw back into perdition. Thus the coven- ant becomes not transient, but everlasting ; tlius the promise is not precarious, but sure to all the seed. There seems to be as great a difference between this evangelical, and your legal method of stating the coven ant; between suspending the benefits on human endeavours, and grounding them on divine agency ; as between hanging the an- chor on the top of the mast, and fixing it at the bottom of the sea. Let me add one more text, which now occur? to my thoughts: " Ye are the chil- dren of the prophets, and of the covenant which God made with our fathers, saying unto Abraham, And in thy seed shall all the kindreds of the earth be blessed," Acts iii. 25. Here the covenant is first men- tioned in general ; then particularly specifi- ed. " In thy seed shall all the kindreds of the earth" — be laid under conditions ? be obliged to execute terms ? No ; but " shall be blessed," blessed with all blessings, tem- poral, spiritual, eternal. In ihi/ seed : that is, in Christ ; without any regard to qualifi- cations or deeds of their own; entirely by REV. MR. WESLEY. 529 virtue of an interest in his consummately excellent actions, and consummately pre- cious sufterings. Then the apostle sin- gles out one special and distinguished bless- ing of the covenant — a conversion from " darkness to light, and from the power of Satan to the service of God ;" or, as it is expressed in the following verse, " a turn- ing from all iniquity." This is still exhi- bited to our oontemi)latioii as the fruit of the covenant of grace ; as the thing for which it makes provision, notintroductory.to, but consequent upon, our participation of it. If, therefore, in speaking of holiness and obedience, we represent them as the pro- mises, rather than the demands of the cov- enant, we evidently follow the apostle's ex- ample. Were we to take the contrary course, we should act as prudently as the sportsman, who, entering his horse for a plate, chooses to have him walk backwards, rather than run forwards. Would this in- crease his speed? Would this help him to outstrip his rivals, or enable him to win the prize ? Shall we, in order to avoid the charge of Antitiomianism, rush into this absurdity ? I am persuaded you could not wish to see so egregious a piece of folly even in your enemy, much less in yours, &c. LETTER IX. Reveuend Sih, — I wish you would consi- der with some attention that emphatical memento of the apostle, " Since ye knew the grace of God in truth." Here he in- timates, that we may have a knowledge of grace which is not genuine ; not free from corrupt mixture ; not true. It may be so discoloured with error, or blended with so much of the law, as no longer to appear like itself. The language of such persons is somewhat like the language of the Israelites after their return from captivity, who spoke neither the Hebrew nor the Heathenish dialect ; but expressed themselves half in the speech of Ashdod, and half in the speech of Sion. " It is true," says Aspasio, " I cannot perform the conditions." " It is not true," says Mr. Wesley. This is pretty blunt, and pretty bold too ; for it is in eflfect affirm- ing, that a man dead in trespasses and sins is able to perform conditions. Mr. Wesley is not aware, that " Christ strengthening us," is one of the benefits of the covenant, comprehended in these words, " I will put my laws into their minds." " The conditions of the new covenant are. Repent and believe." It has been al- •«eady shewn, that they are represented by thb Holy Ghost, not as conditions, but as blessings ; not as conditions required, but as blessings bestowed ; not as conditions on which depends the accomplishment of the covenant, but as happy fruits, or precious effects of the covenant, made, and making good to sinners, who are wholly without strength. " It is equally true," says Aspasio, " this is not required at my hands." " It is equal- ly true," says Mr. Wesley, " that is, abso- lutely false." This is, doubtless, a home thrust. It behoves us to provide some ar- mour of proof for our defence ; and this the Scripture furnishes abundantly. It fur- nishes us with more than rohur ct (PS trijtkx. The Scripture sets forth justification, solva- tion, and all blessedness, as things perfect- ly free ; detached from all works, dependent on no conditions, but the gifts of sorereign goodness and infinitely rich grace. Though you. Sir, treat Aspasio in so \m- ceremoniotis a manner, we will be more complaisant ; you shall receive such enter- tainment from us, as the King of Babylon's ambassadors received from Hezekiah. We will, on this occasion, shew you "the house of our precious things, the silver and the gold, the spices and the precious ointment, and if not all, yet some of the house of our armour." 2 Kings xx. 13. We are saved, that is, we have all the benefits of the new covenant by (jrace . " By grace ye are saved- It is of grace, and no more of works. Who hath saved us, not according to our works, but accord- ing to his purpose and grace." Eph. ii. 5. Rom. X. 6. 2 Tim. i. 9. Frcehi : " Being justified freely. The things that are freely given to us of God. Whosoever will, let him take the water of life freely." Rom. iii. 34. 1 Cor. ii. 12. Rev. xxii. 19. By ivay of (jift : " If thou knowest the gift of God. The gift of God is eternal life. The free gift came upon all men, to justification of life." John iv. 10. Rom. vi. 23; v. 18. Without the law : " The righteousness of God without the law. That we might be justified, not by the works of the law. If the inheritance were of the law." Rom. iii. 21. Gal. ii. 16 ; iii. 18- Not by luorhs : " Not of works, but of him that calleth us. Not by works of righteousness which we have done, but ac- cording to his mercy he saved us. Not hav- ing mine own righteousness, A\hi(h is of the law." Rom. ix. 11. Tit. iii. 5. Phil. iii. 9. By riyhteousiiess, not performed, but im- puted : " Faith (in Christ, as our all) is im- puted for righteousness. God imputeth righteousness without works. To whom it (that is, the merit of a dying and rising Sa- viour) shall be imputed." Rom. iv. o, 6,23, 24, 25. Not by guiltless beluniour, but by re- 2 u S30 LETTERS TO THE mission of si7is : "Blessed are they whose iniquities are forgiven, and whose sins are covered. God was in Christ, reconciling the world unto himself, not imputing their trespasses unto them. To give knowledge of salvation by the remission of their sins." Psalm xxxii. 1. 2 Cor. v. 19. Luke i. 77. Not each by himself, but all hy one : " They shall reign in life, by one Christ Jesus. By the obedience of one, shall many be made righteous. By one offering, he hath perfected for ever those that are sanctified." Rom. v. 17, 18, 19. Heb. X. 14. By faith alone • " Being justified by faith. A man is justified by faith, without the deeds of the law. Through him, all that believe are justified from all things." Rom. V. 1 ; iii. 28. Acts xiii. 39. Not on account of faith, as a condition performed, but on account of Christ, the pearl of inestimable price ; which faith re- ceives, applies, and uses : " Who has by himself purged away our sins, by himself finished our transgressions, made reconcili- ation for our iniquities, and brought in an everlasting righteousness." Heb. i. 3. Dan. ix. 24, This is the doctrine of Scripture. Be- cause it is of the greatest importance, you see with what care it is stated, and with what copiousness displayed ; with what zeal it is urged, and with what vigilance guarded. How solicitously the sacred wri- ters use every form of speech that may ex- clude all human works, may set aside all conditions and pre- requisites, [in order to supersede all gloiyiug, aud ascribe the whole of our justification to the free grace of God, and the sole merits of Christ. After all these testimonies of Scripture shall we still maintain, that the covenant of grace consists of conditions, depends upon conditions ; is such as we cannot expect to have made good till certain conditions are, by us, duly and truly fulfilled ? Dagon may as well stand in the presence of the ark, as such a notion in the face of these evangelical texts. All, all is fiee to us sinners, though it was not free to Christ our Saviour : He paid the price ; he performed the conditions. If you would know what price was paid, what conditions were performed, and on what terms we inherit the blessings, you, Sir, may receive information from Mr. John Wesley, who says in his comment, " All the blessings of the nsw covenant are secured to us by the one oJering of Christ." Ac- cording to this commentator, they are not only procured fcv us, but secured to us. How could either of these be true — much more, how could the latter be fact — if the blessings were suspended on any perform- ance or any acquisition of ours ? If I am not to enjoy them until I discharge this or that duty, they are not procured for me ; if I am not to enjoy them unless I become possessed of this or that quality, they are not secured to me ; — not secured to me as the estate is to an heir, even whilst he is a minor, but only as a prize is to a racer, in case, by exerting his speed and his strength, he arrives first at the goal ; which was never yet called security, but allowed to be mere uncertainty. As to this point, others may receive in- formation from the prophet Zechariah : '' By the blood of thy covenant I have sent forth thy prisoners out of the pit, wherein was no water," Zech. ix, 11. Thy prison- ers : Those wretched creatures who were in a state of guilt, and under the sentence of death ; subject to the tyranny of the de- vil, and liable to the damnation of hell. In this dismal state they were as in a, pit unfa- thomably deep ; from which there seemed no possibility of escape, nor any method of deliverance : A pit in which there is 110 water; nothing but absolute misery, without a gleam of hope, or a drop of com- fort. I have sent them forth into a place of liberty, where they obtain pardon, and en- joy peace ; are satisfied with the plenteous- ness of my house, and drink of my plea- sures as out of a river. All this by the hlood of thy covenant. Blood was the right- eous term, blood was the dreadful require- ment; even that infinitely precious blood of Christ, on which the covenant of our free- dom was established, and by which its rich blessings are procured. Which is called " thy covenant,* O daughter of Sion," thou church of the first-born ; because it was made in thy name, made with thy divine Surety, and for thy unspeakable good. This is not only false, but " most danger- ously false. If we allow this, Antinomian- ism comes in with a full tide." Pray, Sir, what do you mean by Antiiiomianism ? Sucli a contrariety to the law as debases its digni- ty, deprives it of its proper honour and pro- per end ?f Surely then, not A=piisio's, but Mr. Wesley's tenets, are chargeable with this kind of heterodoxy ; since they would cause the law to be put off" with a mite, when millions of talents are its due ; oblige it to be content with errant deficiency, when the most sinless obedience, and the most exalted perfection, are what it demands. Do you mean by Antinomianism, such a * TA.v covenant. The words are not addressed to Christ, but to his church ; as the Hebrew word, being in the feminine p;ender, intimates. t The end of i;he commanding law is righteousness, Rnm. X. 4. The end of the violated law is punish- ment. Gal. iii. 10. Both these ends are answered by the intel^>ositio^ of an obedient and crucified Re- deeiiner, but on no other sclierae, and in no other manner whatever. HEV. MR. WESLEY. 531 contrariety to the law as disregards its du- ties, and violates its precepts? Then the npostle Paul shall reply, " The grace of God, which bringeth salvation, hath appear- ed unto all men ; teaching us, that denying ungodliness and worldly lusts, we should live soberly, righteously, and godly." The grace of God, his infinitely free favour, of which we have a specimen in the preceding text, which scorns to be shackled with conditions, or meanly dependent on human endeavours. This grace, requiring nothing of the crea- ture, but hringmg salvation, spiritual and eternal salvation, finished by the incarnate Creator, and free for the chiefest of sinners : This grace, being revealed in the gospel, being discerned by faith, and thus appear- ing in lustre, and with power, to all men ; to men of every rank, every age, every cha- racter ; making no difference between the servant and the master, between the ruddy strippling and the hoary sire, between the vile prostitute and the chaste vestal, but op- ening its inexhaustible treasures to be re- ceived by one as well as 'the other : This grace does what ? " Cause Antinomianism," or practical ungodliness, " to come in with a full tide ?" Quite the reverse : It repress- es it like an immoveable barrier : It teaches us to deny, to renounce ungodliness, all un- godliness ; not only external gross abomina- tions, but worldly lusts, also every vicious inclination, and every iiregular desire. Far- ther, it teaches us to live soberly, with re- gard to ourselves, righteously towards our neighbours, and godly to our great Creator. The original word is particularly beautiful and significant ; it is not Tatan — prescribeth, by way of rule, nor ivirainrit — enjoineth, by way of authority ; hnt vrai^iunffx — teacheth, by way of instruction, pointelh out the ef- fectual method of obeying the precepts, and conforming to the rule. A tyrant may com- mand his slave to write, or make a profi- ciency in writing ; a kind tutor forms him to it, shows him how to do it, and renders what otherwise would be an irksome, per- haps an impracticable task, both easy and pleasant : So this grace, clearly manifested in the understanding, and cordially appre- hended by the will, renders every duty of holiness both practicable and pleasant ; it gives us a heart, and a hand, and ability to exercise ourselves unto universal godliness. Christ has performed all that was condi- tionary for me, says Aspasio. " Has he repented and believed for you ?" says Mr. Wesley ; a question already answered in the Dialogues. " No," replies Mr. Wesley, " not answered, but evaded. ' He perform- ed all that was conditionary in the covenant of works,' is nothing to the purpose ; for we are not talkiixg of that, but of the covenant f)f grace." Give me leave to tell you, Sir, tiiat you are greatly mistaken here ; we are talking, at least we ought to be talking, of the covenant of works, when we talk of the covenant which Christ came under. It wus a covenant of works to him, which by his execution of it, became a covenant of grace for us : He became answerable for our debt ; the debt was exacted without the least abatement. In this respect " God spared not his own Son." And is not this the te- nor, are not such the effects, of a covenant of works ? Christ is called the " Surety of a better covenant ;" that is, a surety provided and admitted by a better covenanc. In this pe- culiarity, infinitely momentous and comfort- able, the new covenant is better, because it brings in a substitute to discharge what was contracted under the old, which neither pro- vided, nor allowed, nor knew any such thing. It is written, " Christ was made under the law," therefore, not under a covenant of grace. If you can show me, in the construc- tion of the law, any hint of faith in the me- rits of another, or any mention of repentance unto life, I will retract my opinion, that Christ performed whatever was conditiona- ry ; I will do honour to those genteel ex- pressions, and submit to those cogent argu- ments, " It is not true — it is nothing to the purpose — it is absolutely false." " If Christ's perfect obedience be ours, we have no more need of pardon than Christ himself. The consequence is good ; you have started an objection which you cannot answer." It is answered in the Dialogues, whether in a satisfactory or insullicient man- ner, the reader must determine. But sup- pose we admit the consequence, it implies no more than the apostle affirms, " By one offering he hath perfected for ever them that are sanctified." Let me transcribe your own* explication of this passage : " He hath done" (observe, you yourself speak of Christ's doing ; in this place only of Christ's doing ; yet I would not be so injurious to your good sense, as to imagine that you exclude his suffering) "all that was needful, in order to their full reconciliation with God." This exposition I approve, as fai- as it goes ; only you have omitted one very weighty circumstance, comprehended in the word ever : By this doing and suffering, believers are fully and perfectly reconciled ; not for a day only, or for any particular time, but for ever. The pardon is irrevocable ; the blessing inalienable. Not like the moon, which now waxes, and anon wanes ; but like the sun, which is always tlic same, ever shines mth the same plenitude of rays, and needs only to appear, in order to appear un- changeably bright. This reminds me of a more direct answer Kxplaualorv .\v)ics in lor 532 LETTERS TO THE to your difficulty. The repeated pardon which believers implore, is only a witness- bearing to the truth, or a repeated manifes- tation of it to our consciences. Will you find fault with this doctrine ? Might you not, for the very same reason, say, if the atonement of Christ's death was absolutely perfect, there could be no need of his inter- cession at God's right hand ? Yes, for the actual application of the great atonement, and the continual communication of its hap- py fruits, their intercession is necessary. So, though our justification is complete, though our sins have all been laid upon our Lord, and are not to be done away by some duties of our own, but already done away by the sacrifice of himself; yet the application of this blessing, the revelation of it to our hearts, is daily, hourly, incessantly needful : Therefore he saith, speaking of his vineyard the church, " I will water it every moment." Whereby ? In what manner ? What spiritu- al blessings correspond with watering the thirsty soil ? The discovery of complete pardon, of complete acceptance, of complete salvation in Christ. This will make the soul like a watered garden ; this will cause joy and holiness to blossom as a rose. Both the branches of the law, the precep- tive and the penal, in the case of guilt con- tracted, must be satisfied. "Not so." If not, one of them must pass imsatisfied, and unfulfilled ; whereas our Lord declares, that •* heaven and earth shall pass away, sooner than one jot or one tittle of the law shall fail" of its accomplishment. Will you un- dertake to prove, either that the preceptive, or else that the penal part of the law, does not constitute so much as one jot or one tit- tle of its contents ? Then, and then only, your assertion may consist with our Lords declaration. This will be an undertaking as adventurous as your next is disingeiuious. " Not so ; Christ by his death alone (so our church teaches) fully satisfied for the sins of the whole world." Bi/ his death alone, that is, in contradistinction to all hu- man works as efficient or adjutant causes. Fulli/ satisfied, that is, without having, and without needing the concurrence of any hu- man satisfaction. It is spoken in opposition to our endeavours, not to his own most glo- rious obedience. But do you really want to be informed, that our church means no such thing as you would insinuate? Have you never heard her profess, and require to be- lieve, what Aspasio maintains? If not, be pleased to read the quotations from her Ho- milies, which he has produced, (pp. 3-28, 829.)* Read these, and I cannot but • As this pamphlet may possibly fall into the hands of some persons who have not the hoolv entitled The- ron and Aspasio; I will, fjr their sakes, transcribe oneof the testimonies to which weare referred. In the Homily concerning the salvation of mankind, think you have modesty enough to blush at an attempt to palm upon the public such an apparent misrepresentation of our venerable mother. " The same great truth is manifestly taught in the 31st Article." What? That Christ, by his death alone, or by shedding his blood alone, without fulfilling the law perfectly, satisfied for the sins of the world ! Then the Articles and the Homilies most flatly contradict one another. Upon this you ask, " Is it therefore fair, is it honest, for any one to plead the Articles of oiu' cluirch in defence of absolute predestina- tioii ?" Indeed, Sir, I know not what you mean by this interrogatory, or at what you aim. Does Aspasio plead the Articles for any such purpose ? Not that he should be afraid, in case there was an evident occa- sion to advance such a plea, and perhaps might put Mr. Wesley to greater difficulty than he is aware of, in order to elude the force of it. But he does not in this place come within view of the point, nor so much as remotely hint at it -. No, nor in any part of the two volumes does he once touch upon absolute predestination, much less does he plead the Articles of our church in its de- fence : So that your inferential word there- fore, is a conclusion without premises. Absolute predestination is a phrase not to be found in all the Dialogues, or in any of the Letters ; but it is a phrase which Mr. Wesley thinks to be alarming and di.sgust- ing ; on which Mr. Wesley has learned to say many horrible and shocking things ; therefore, be it right or wrong, be it true or false, Aspasio shall be charged with the ob- noxious expression. When he mentions predestination, it is in the very words of Scripture ; without dwelling upon the sub- ject ; without resting his cause upon it ; without attempting either to explain or to establish it. This he leaves, and ever will leave, to clearer heads and abler pens. As to your absolute, this is not what Aspasio speaks, but what Mr. Wesley would make him speak ; a word, which in this connexion he never used, nor so much as dreamt of using ; for which reason, I call it not his but yours. May I not then retort your own question ; and ask, Is it fair, is it honest, to we read the following words: " The apostle toucheth three things, which must go together m justification. On God's part, his great mercy and grace: On Christ's part, the satisfaction of God's justice, or the price cf our redemption, by the offering of his body and shed- ding of his precious blood, witn fulfilling of the law perfectly: On our part, true and lively faith in the merits of Jesus Christ, which yet is not ours, but by God's working in us." You see, according to the judgment of our reformers, not only the offering of Christ's body, and the shedding of Christ's blood, but also his perfect fulfilling of the law, are the adequate ])rice of our redemption. Yet Mr. Wesley is pleased to exclude the latter ; and ventures to affirm that he has the authority of our church for such an opinion^ and for such a practice. REV. MR. WESLEY. 533 put into your friend's mouth words which lie never used, and then exclaim against them ? What follows in this paragraph is pro- digious indeed. " Seeing the 17th Article barely defines the term ;" that is, the church does not believe the doctrine, nor require any such belief from her members ! Why then does she select it for one of the Ar- ticles ? Why pronounce it agreeable to God's word ? Why forbid disputation against it? Pity but we had been acquainted with this fine distinction when we were students at Oxford -. We then declared our appro- bation of the academical statutes ; we en- gaged to observe them all, and confirmed our engagement with an oath. But how easily might we have eluded the obligation, if, when called upon for conformity and obedience, this salvo had come into our heads : — The university does not, in these statutes, set forth our duty, but barely de- fines the terms ; she does not insist upon a conformity, but only flourishes a little upon terms, and leaves us to obey or disobe>6- as we shall find ourselves inclined. " Barely defines the term, without either affirming or denying the thing." How ! Does she not affirm the thing, when she styles it an "excellent benefit of God?" Declares it to be " full of sweet, pleasant, and imspeakable comfort" to the godly? That it " greatly establishes and confirms their faith of eternal salvation, and fervently kindles their love towards God?" " Not affirm the thing !" when she expressly as- cribes such fruits and consequents to it ! This is not only affirming, but affirming with the highest approbation, like proclaim- ing the king, and placing the crown upon his head. In one part of your Preservative you enumerate, and very properly display, what you call " The five benefits of baptism." Suppose a Quaker, upon reading this pas- sage, should say, " Friend Wesley, thou barely definest the term, thou neither af- firmest nor deiiiest the thing. This is no proof that thou thyself believest a tittle of water-baptism,_or wouldest have thy readers believe the reality of any such ordinance." Should the Quaker argue thus, he would argue just like yourself. But I apprehend he would not be so boldly disingenuous ; he would rather confess, " Friend John doth certainly maintain and believe these things ; but his opinion is mistaken, and his argu- ments are inconclusive." " The 31st Ar- ticle totally overthrows predestination, and razes it from the foundation." If so, it makes one Article contradict another ; con- sequently, weakens the authority, and un- dermines the credibility of them all. In this Article are two points more particularly proper for our inquiry : "The great saha- tion, and the numoer of the saved. I can- not but query, whether you believe the former, or rightly understand the latter. The (jreat salvation, expressed in the fol- lowing words : " The offering of Christ once made, is that perfect redemjition, pro- pitiation, and jatisiaction for all the sins of the whole world, both original and actual." If I take these words as I am enjoined, in the literal and grammatical sense, I must believe, that Christ engaged to satisfy of- fended justice for every sin which I have committed, or shall commit, throughout my whole life : ]\Iy past sins, at that time, had no more existence than my future sins have at this hour, but both were eoually laid upon my Lord. Having undertaken this greatest of all works, I must believe that he fully accom- plished it ; and actually satisfied for all my transgressions, of every kind and every date. A possibility, or mere chance of being re- deemed, can never be reckoned a perfect redemption : Neither would our Saviour have paid down a positive price for a pre- carious conditional good ; much less would he have paid an immense, an infinite price, upon a bare uncertainty whether it should take any effect, or ever obtain its desired end. I believe, therefore, that the satisfac- tion is made for me ; that God has received the all-sufficient atonement in behalf of all my provocations ; and that there is no more ground of condemnation for me, a vile sin- ner, than there is room for the prosecution of an insolvent, all whose debts are defray- ed, even to the very lust mite. The numher of the saved, expressed in those words, " The sins of the whole world." This I acknowledge to be the lan- guage of Scriptiu'e ; and I promise myself you will bear with me, while I offer my thoughts concerning the occasion and the import of such language. In the antediluvian and patriarchal ages, the Lord Jehovah confined his favour to a few particular families. When he formed his Israel into a commonwealth, he chose them to himself, and separated them from all other nations. To them he gave his oracles, his ordinances, and his covenants, yea, he honoured and indulged them with his divine presence. In this the Israelites gloried ; they appropriated this privilege to themselves, and held other people at a distance, looking upon them as strangers, and without God in the world : hence that chosen seed spares not to say, " We are thine ; thou never barest rule over them ; they were not called by thy name." — At the commencement of the Messiah's kingdom, the Lord purposed to change the scene, and vary the dispensation, by admitting both Jews and Gentiles to an interest in the irreat salvation ; a£ they were equally -"534 LETTERS TO THE chargeable with sin, and equally liable to the curse, they should now stand upon a level ; be equally sharers in that divine Sa- viour, who submits to be made sin, and to be made a curse for both alike. This the Holy Ghost expressly and repeatedly pro- mised, " He (that is, the Redeemer which is to come) shall speak peace unto the Hea- then ; his dominion shall be from sea even to sea, and from the river even to the ends of the earth." Notwithstanding such prophecies and such promises, our Lord himself, when he entered upon his ministry, acted a discri- minating part, and kept up the partition wall, in pursuance of that declaration, " I am not sent, but unto the lost sheep of the house of Israel." When he sent forth his disciples to preach and to teach, he gave them also a command to show the same partial re- gard, " Go ye not into the way of the Gen- tiles." This conduct of our Lord, both under the Old Testament and the New, confirmed the Jews in their self-flattering notion, that they were, and ever should be, a favourite nation and a peculiar people. The Gentiles, on the other hand, were no less discouraged ; apprehending that as they were, so they ever should be, " aliens from the commonwealth of Israel." But in or- der to convince the Jews of their mistake in claiming the blessing of Abraham to themselves ; and in order to assure the poor discarded Gentiles that they should be " fellow-heirs and of the same body ;" our Lord in his last charge to his apostles, al- ters the style of his commission, and en- larges the sphere of their several depart- ments. It is now no longer, " Go not in- to the way of the Gentiles," but quite the reverse : " Go teach all nations of the world," yea, and " every creature : who- soever believeth (whether Jew or Gentile) shall be saved." Still the Jews were hardly induced to give the right hand of fellowship to their brethren the Gentiles : For St. Peter cries, with some indignation, " Not so. Lord." Still the Gentiles, hardly persuaded that they should be partakers of the grace, rea- soned against themselves, " The Lord hath utterly separated me from his people." Therefore the Lord, to intercept all the de- sponding objections of the latter, and to bring down the high disdainful imagina- tions of the former, declares in a variety of places, that the difference no longer subsists; that Christ has thrown down the partition wall, and laid all plain, and common, and free. Though the giving of the law per- tained to Israel only, the Lord Jesus gave himself a ransom for all people. Though the paschal Lamb extended its influence only to the circumcision, the Lamb of God ia a " propitiation for the sins of the whole world," even though it be not circumcised. And now God would have all men, whe- ther bond or free, Jews or Gentiles, Greeks or Barbarians, to be saved, by coming unto the knowledge of the faith. This account gives us the true cause, and points out the intended use, of such univer- sal phrases. They are calculated to abate the pride of the Jews, to encourage the de- spised Gentiles, and, by excluding none, they give encouragement for all to come; because, though every individual person will not be saved, yet " whosoever cometh shall in no wise be cast out." By this interpre- tation, the phrase is neither inconsistent with other texts, neither does our own church contradict herself. Upon the whole, you will please to ob- serve, that I should never have touched up- on this subject, had not your objections, far- fetched and forced as they are, given me a kind of challenge. And now i have touch- ed upon the subject, it is not as a champion for the cause, but only to show the weak- ness and the inconsistency of your arguing; how little you avail yourself, even on a point where you think opposition vain and your arm irresistible. " Believers, who are notorious transgres- sors in themselves, have a sinless obedience in Christ." This passage you select as faulty, I presume because it is opposite to your favourite tenet, " Perfection in personal holiness." By notorious, I mean acknow- ledged, confessed, indisputably such. If you are not such a transgressor, why do you daily confess yourself a miserable sinner ? Why do you acknowledge that you are " tied and bound with the chain of your sins," and declare before all men " that there is no health in you?" All this Mr. Wesley speaks with his lips, and I would hope believes in his heart. Yet all this does not amount " to a notorious transgressor !" Pray then, good Sir, inform us what sort of transgres- sor is described by all these expressions. You cry out, " O syren song !" The Psalmist would have taught you a better exclamation. If this is the case, " let us rejoice with trembling." Are we noto- rious transgressors in ourselves ? The con- sciousness of this is the strongest motive to humility. Have we a sinless obedience in Christ? The belief of this is an abundant source of joy. When you add, " pleasing sound to James Wheatly ! Thomas Wil- liams! James Eeily !" lam quite asham- ed of your meanness, and grieved at your uncharitable rashness. How unworthy is such a procedure, either of the gentleman, the Christian, or the man of sense ? Un- worthy the gentleman, to stigmatize by name, and expose to the most public infa- my. Unworthy the Christian, whose cha- rity concealeth, rather than divulgoth and REV. MR. WESLEY. 533 proclaimeth upon the house-tops. Unwor- thy the man of sense, wlio knows that tlie miscarriages of a professor are no argument against the soundness of a doctrine : if they were, would not your own principles totter, nay, how could Christianity itself stand ? " Elijah failed in his resignation, and even Moses himself spake unadvisedly with his lips." " It is true, (says Mr. Wesley). But if you could likewise fix some blot upon venerable Samuel, and beloved Dan- iel, it would prove nothing." I have no desire to fix a blot ; but if I find it in the most accomplished character, this proves the proposition which Aspasio maintains, *' That the very best of men fall short ; that the very best of men will be found guilty, if tried by the righteous law ; that the very best of men have nothing more to plead for acceptance with the High and Holy One, than the criminal who yesterday murdered his benefactor, to-morrow is to be executed for his crime, and is now flying to the re- demption that is in Christ Jesus for the chief of sinners." " No Scripture teaches that the holiness of Christians is to be measured by that of any Jew." I should be afraid to advance such a position, after having read that gen- eral exhortation, " Be ye followers of them who through faith and patience inherit the promises ;" and those more particular refer- ences to the ancient saints, comprised in the eleventh chapter to the Hebrews. Were not they Jews ? Does not the apos- tle propose them as patterns for our imita- tion ? Is not this his language, Let us act in conformity to their practice? " The Spirit of Christ was in them," and " they obtained (even from the supreme Judge) a good report." Agreeably to this divine tes- timonial, we are directed to learn from Abel a fiduciary dependence on the great atone- ment ; and from Enoch, a life of commun- ion with a reconciled God. The prophets are recommended to our contemplation, as " examples of suflfering affliction, and of patience." Elijah is set before us as an in- stance of persevering and successful prayer ; and we are directed to walk in the steps of our father Abraham's fSith. This was the counsel of an apostle to others ; this was the aim of an apostle with regard to him- self ; therefore I think, it can never be un- worthy of you, or unfit for the most advanc- ed among your disciples. For my part, I shall reckon myself truly happy, I shall bless the day whereon I was born, if I may but be enal)led to follow the footsteps of these illustrious leaders, though — Non passihus cequis. That Christians ought to rise above the level of the common Jews, I freely own. Mr. Wesley's mistake seems to lie in con- founding the common with the imcommon ; in not discerning the difference between any and every, between some and all. Some Jews were blessed with extraordinary en- dowments ; they had distinguished commun- ications of the Spirit of wisdom and holi- i ness. They were as the " stones of a crown, lifted up as an ensign upon his land." Their great achievements and emi- nent attainments are described in the afore- mentioned chapter, which may truly be styled the golden legend ; great things, im- possible to flesh and blood, they both per- formed and suffered ; such as characterise a saint of the highest rank. To imitate these is the duty of all Christians ; to equal them is the privilege of few. Let me illustrate this sentiment : the reader, I apprehend, will hardly think it needs confirmation. Every graduate in the university, much more every minister of the gospel, ought to exceed the schoolboy in learning and knowledge. Yet there have been schoolboys with whom few ministers, and fewer graduates, will venture to com- pare themselves. A recent instance of this kind we have in the famous Baratier. Tiiis wonderful youth, when he was but foin- years old, spoke French to his mother, La- tin to his father, High-Dutch to his maid. At the age of six, he explained the Hebrew text as readily as if it had been his native German. When other lads are scarce able to read with fluency and propriety their mo- ther tongue, he was not only acquainted with, but master of five several languages. In his eleventh year, he published a learned Latin dissertation, and translated a book of travels out of Hebrew into French. While a mere boy, he was qualified to dispute with professors of the sciences, was honoured with a seat at an ecclesiastical synod, and admitted to the degree of doctor in philoso- phy. Upon this narrative I shall only ob- serve, that many of the Jews, whose names are immortalized in Scripture, were, in faith, in godliness, and all that is exemplary, so many Baratiers. " Do not the best of men frequently feel disorder in their affections ? Do they not often complain. When I would do good, evil is present with me?" "I believe not." What a proof is here ! How well suited to its office ; which is to control the current, and overrule the evidence of ancient and modern consent. But why do not you be- lieve what Aspasio supposes ? Is yom* dis» belief grounded on fact ? Are you acquaint- ed with any people who feel no disorder in their affections ? who always do good in the completest manner? and never have evil present with them ? If so, \\hat are their names ? where do they live ? We would go many miles to see them. You have no aversion to the mention of names, A\hen censure is the motive, and public disgrace the eflf'ect ; why should you -be so rjluctant, 536 LETTERS TO Til] when honour and ftistinguished respect would be the consequence ? Do they not say, " We groan, being bur- dened with the workings of inbred corrup- tion ?" — " This is not the meaning of the text. The whole context shows the cause of that groaning was their longing to be with Christ." You need not on this occasion rummage the context, or take a journey to find what is at your door. The sentence it- self shows, as plainly as words can show, the cause of their groaning. We groan — it is not said because we long to be with Christ. This might be a truth ; but this is not the cause assigned : " We groan because we are burdened." Burdened with what ? Aspa- sio answers, with a body of sin and death, or with what the apostle himself styles ra fivyirov. This, whatever it means, was the load that encumbered them, oppressed them, and made them sigh ardently for deliverance. Does not this signify all the infirmities and disorders of the present mortal state ? -Among which, the sad effects of inbred cor- ruption are none of the least. These gave those magnanimous but pious souls more imeasiness than all other kinds of affliction whatever. * " The cure of sin will be perfected in heaven." " Nay, surely in paradise." As- pasio knows no difference between paradise and heaven. Paradise is the kingdom where Christ reigns ; and is not this heaven ? Pa- radise is the region where the tree of life grows ; and is not this heaven ? Heaven denotes the place ; paradise describes its nature — a place of consummate bliss and absolute perfection, where is the fulness of joy and pleasure for evermore. However, if it can be proved that they are different abodes, and imply different states,f then Aspasio would be understood to say, the cure of sin is completed in paradise ; or as soon as the believer drops his flesh, and en- ters the invisible world. " This (a perfect conformity to God) is a noble prerogative of the beatific vision." " No ;" says Mr. Wesley. Though St. * "We groan, being burdened with a sense of our spiritual infirmities, and with the workings of inbred corruption;" This is Aspasio's interpretation. "We groan, being burdened with numberless infirmities, temptations, and sins;" This is Mr. Wesley's interpre- tation in his Expository Notes on the New Testament. Yet here he denies what there he affirms. It is said, I think oflshmael, " His hancf will be against every man." Mr. Wesley goes a step farther, liis hand is against himself, as well asagainst every body else. t St. Paul, I am aware, speaks of heaven, and speaks of paradise, 2 Cor. xii. 2, 4. So does David speak of " rising up into the hill of the Lord," and of " stand- ing in his holy place." But as the same thing, though variously expressed, is meant by the Psalmist, I think we may not unreasonably understand the apostle in the same manner. If they had been different habita- tions, methinks he would have mentioned paradise first, and then the third heavens. Otherwise he tells thestory but awkwardly; for he first mentions his ar- tival at the third heavens, and then at paradise; that is, ji.ccordiiig to Mr. Wesley, first he was led into the presence, and I hen iiilroduixd to the antechamber. John, one would think, had settled and ascer- tained this point beyond all contradiction : " We shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is." We shall ; which intimates, that at present we are not perfectly like him. For; which denotes the efficient cause of this advancement and felicit)', this complete transformation into the divine image. We shall see him, no longer through a glass, but face to face -. We shall receive the clearest manifestation of his ineffable holiness and glory, which will have just the same effect upon our souls as the imprinted seal has up- on the melting wax. " It woidd then come too late. If sin remains in us till the day of judgment, it will remain in us for ever." You suppose, that the beatific vision is not enjoyed till the day of judgment. But in this you seem to err, not knowing the Scripture. I have a desire, says the apostle, to he dissolved. And what is the consequence, the immediate conse- quence of dissolution ? " To be with Christ," in his presence, before his throne. And is not this the beatific vision ? " Willing (says the inspired writer) to be absent from the body, and present with the Lord." Here is no hint of any intermediate state ; but the very moment in which the saints depart from their bodies, they are present with the Lord ; and if with the Lord, then in the highest heavens, then at the fountain-head of felicity, then amidst the beatific vision. To heaven Elijah was conveyed in his fiery chariot'; and into heaven the fir.st martyr was re- ceived by his compassionate Saviour. Nei- ther of them waited in some intervening mansion, as a kind of lobby to the heaven of heavens. This is the Popish notion, and very closely connected with the chimera of purgatory ; so closely connected, that if you take away the former, the latter di'ops into nothing. I am sorry your opinions. Sir, are so much like the errors of the man of sin. " Our present blessedness does not con- sist in being free from sin." " I really think it does." Spoken like Mr. Wesley. / tliinh, is still the argumeittum palmarium. I think, is the heavy artillery which is to de- molish brigades at a blow ; only here it is strengthened and enforced by that emphati- cal word realhi. But if oiu' present bless- edness does really consist in being free from sin, where are your blessed persons ? We may truly say. Apparent rari nantes in gurgite vasto. Virg. No ; this can hardly be said. Virgil's de- scription is too full : instead of seeing a very few, here and there one, popping up their heads, in the great and wide ocean of the world, we are not able to find so much as an individual : shew us one, only one of these angels in flesh and blood, and it suf- ficeth us. Whereas, if you persist in main- taining your sinless perfection, yet cannot REV. MR, WESLEY. 537 produce a single instance to exemplify your notion, will you not give too just a handle for that sarcastic reflection used on another occasion ? With witnesses many this cause did abound; With some that were hang'd, and some that were drown'd ; And some that were lost, and some never found. These are Aspasio's words : " It (our present imperfection) perpetually reminds us of a most important truth, that our pre- sent blessedness consists, not in being free from all sin, but in having no sin imputed to us." He took particular care to guard his meaning from misconstruction, by adding the word aU. I-est this word, because it is little of stature, should be overlooked, he printed it in italics. But all this precaution is thrown away upon Mr. Wesley. He lakes no notice of this same little word ; nay, he shuts it entirely out of his quota- tion, as though he should say. Where is the harm of clapping under the hatches such a puny insigniticant monosyllable ? I would have it to know, I shall ere long turn adi-ifc more plump and portly words than that. Aspasio also took care to confirm his sentiments by a reference to Scripture : he supported himself by the authority of King David. Mr. Wesley, having a little while ago laboured to depreciate, now ventures to contradict the royal Psalmist. " Blessed," says the Psalmist, " is the man " — who is free from sin ? who is perfectly sanctified ? This is not the doctrine which the sweet singer of Israel teaches, but " blessed is he whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered." Deeply impressed, and quite charmed, with the contemplation of^ this most substantial happiness, the sacred writer proclaims it, repeats it ; yes, a third time he celebrates it, crying out with ardour of joy, " Blessed is the man unto whom the Lord imputeth no iniquity,"* Psalm xxxii. 1,2; neither that iniquity which was for- merly committed, nor that which still defiles. Psalm XV. 3. Blessed indeed ! May I live imder a firm persuasion of my own particular interest in this unspeakable privi- lege ! May I find it made good to my soul at the universal judgment ! Then let others take the kingdoms of this world, and all the glory of them. And as for Aspa- sio, he may reckon his credit safe, and his opinion fully authorized, while he espouses the doctrine, and uses the very words of the imerring Spirit. " If we are not free from sin, we are not Christian believers." What an assertion is here ! Assertion, for I dare not call it a truth. If it was, who then could be saved ? IS'Ot one of a thousand, not two of a million; * Should any objection arise from the next sen- tence, the reader may see it aiilitipaled, and kuper- svJedjiu T heron anil Aspasio. no, nor Mr. John Wesley himself, since out of his own mouth he stands condemned. He makes this acknowledgment concerning himself and his followers, " We know by melancholy experience what it is to neglect works of righteousness. " To corroborate his confession, he adds, " We know and feel by melancholy experience, what it is to swerve from our first love." We feel by ex- perience : He is willing to run the hazard of tautolog)', rather than any should suspect the sincerity and truth of his protestation. And can you, after such a confession, after such a protestation, pretend to be free from sin ? Is all this which you know of your- self, and feel by experience, consistent with a sinless state ? Just as much as a lethargy is consistent with the vigour of health, or a shameful flight with a glorious victory. See, Sir, how you are entangled in your own net ; how, without being chased by an ene- my, you run yourself aground. Nor will all your dexterity, so long as you avow such palpable inconsistencies, be able to set you clear. You attempt to confirm your opinion by the apostle's declaration, " Being made free from sin." But he and you mean different things by the same woi-ds." He means be- ing freed from the dominion of sin. This is agreeable to his own explanation, " Sin (ou Ku^nuni) shall not lord it over you." It may assault you, it may harass you, it may gain some advantage over you ; but it shall not obtain a final victory, nor play the ty- rant over you. To the expedience and ne- cessity of this freedom, if ever we would approve ourselves disciples of Christ, or Christians indeed, I readily subscribe. Whereas, you mean being freed from the very remainders of sin. " Having a jjurity (it is your own explanation) free from all mixture of its contrary, and a resignation excluding every degree of self-will." Against the existence, or the possibility of this free- dom, so long as we sojourn in a body of flesh, I enter my protest. " If we were perfect in piety, Christ's priestly office would be superseded." " No ; we should still need his Spirit, and conse- quently his intercession." But were we perfect, we should receive the Spirit with- out an intercessor. An intercessor implies an alienation between the two parties ; or something which, without the intervention of a third person, would create alienation. The priestly office, whether of atoning, or of interceding, is founded on a state of guilt ; to this it bears an essential and invariable relation. Does Christ exercise his priestly office in behalf of angels ? No ; because they excel in strength, and are perfect in holijiess. Will Christ exercise his priestly office, when all his saints are received into glory ? No ; because then there will be au 538 LETTERS TO THE absolute consummation both in body and toul, both in righteousness and happiness, and the mediatorial kingdom be delivered tip to the Father. Did Christ exercise his priesty office before Adam fell ? No ; be- cause sin had no existence then ; and then the language was, " let man be blessed," not " deliver him from going down into the pit." The objections laid to my charge in this paragraph, and the whole side of the leaf, proceed upon your favourite notion, perfec- tion of holiness, even while we continue in houses of day. As I look upon your foun- dation to be a mere delusion, I must of course conclude all that you build upon it to be chimerical and delusory; therefore, till you prove your supposition, I have no reason to concern myself with any of your consequences deduced from it, or with any of your allegations relating to it. On one clause, however, let me bestow a slight ani- madversion. Aspasio says, A sense of remaining in- bred corruption will reconcile us to death. Mr. Wesley replies, " Indeed it will not ; nor will any thing do this like perfect love." Here I think you have missed the mark. Nothing can reconcile us to death but that which takes away its sting ; and this is done only by the atonement of Christ. Nothing can reconcile us to death but that which delivers us from its terror ; and this is ef- fected only by the sacrifice of our great High-priest, which has converted the king of terrors into a messenger of peace. No- thing can reconcile us to death, but that which makes it desirable to depart, and gain to die ; and this is owing, wholly owing to him who died for us, that whether we wake or sleep, we should live together with him. Old Simeon found, that nothing could reconcile him to death, so much as a be- lieving view of the Lord's Christ. Seeing God made flesh, seeing him as his own Sa- viour, he was enabled not only to acquiesce in the summons, but to welcome it as a de- liverance. He was enabled to say with composure and complacency, " Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace :" Not because I am weary of this imperfect state ; not because I am perfect in divine love ; but because " mine eyes have seen thy salvation." Though you may not like to imitate a Jew, I most heartily wish for myself, let me die the death of this most venerable Hebrew, and let my latter end be like his ! If you still persist in your opinion, that nothing can reconcile you to dissolution like the imagined perfection of your love — not the blood by which the saints overcame, not the righteousness by which theyreign in life, not the grace and power which h.ave swal- lowed up death in victory; I must then caution you to take heed lest you cross, or attempt to cross the river, in the boat of vai7i confidence. You have abridged, if I mistake not, the Pilgrim's Progress, there- foi'e can be at no loss to understand my meaning. One clause, I said ; but I correct my- self: There is another, so veiy extraordi- naiy, that you might justly charge me with inattention, little short of stupidity, if I should pass it over without notice. These are the words : " If we were perfect in piety, (St. John's word is, perfect in love,) we should still be encompassed with infir- mities, and liable to mistakes, from which words or actions might follow, even though the heart was all love, which were not ex- actly right." This is strange ! Wondrous strange in- deed ! Perfect, yet encompassed with infir- mities ! Perfect, yet doing actions, and speaking words not exactly right ! You are as singular in your idea, as you are strenuous for the doctrine of perfection. I know not any Protestant writer that pretends to maintain the latter, yourself only excepted; and as to the former, I think it could never enter into the head of any thing living, but Mr. Wesley's only. Perfect, yet encom- passed with infirmities — is just as sound di- \'inity, as true, yet addicted to lying — is sound morality. This is not the worst property of your notion of perfection, that it is absurd and self-contradictory. A sentiment may be absurd, yet not very pernicious. But this is an error of the most malignant kind ; this was at the bottom of the Pharisees' pride, and spirited them on to seek justification by the works of the law. They knew full well, that their obedience was not complete, it did not come up to their sacred and ex- alted standard ; but they had learnt to soften and extenuate their disobedience into matters not exactly right. This is the cause why people professing Christianity see no form or comeliness in Christ, so as to desire him with desires that cannot be uttered. It is true they are not perfect, they often offend ; but then the offences are only human infirmities — words and ac- tions not exactly right. With this, which is indeed the si/reii song, they lull their souls into an insensibility of their ruined state, and a disregard of the all-sufficient Re- deemer. " Cursed (says the law) is every one that continueth not in all things," whether they be great or small : And will you regard that as a mere infirmity, and consistent with perfection, on which the divine law de- nounces a curse ? which the divine law threatens with all misery here, and with everlasting vengeance heieafter ? The apostle would jnobably chattise the author REV. MR. WESLEY. VA9 or abettor of such a conceit, in tlie follow- ing manner : " Wilt tliou know, O vain man, that what thou callest a matter ' not exactly right,' is most horribly odious in the eye of God s infinite purity ; deserves eter- nal death in the estimate of his infinite jus- tice ; and could never have been pardoned but by the atoning death of his infinitely majestic Son !" " Encompassed with infirmities, yet the heart all love ! Words and actions not ex- actly right, yet the man all perfection !" These are all paradoxes which I never saw equalled, only in the writings of some high- fiown papists. Mr. Wesley's words are not far from a translation, they are to a nicety the sense, of those very ofiiensive passages which I meet with in a couple of Popish zealots. Andradius, interpreter of the council of Trent, writes thus : " Ven- alia peccata tarn sunt minuta et levia ut non adversentur perfection! charitatis, nee impedire possunt perfectam aut absolutam obedientiam."* Lindenus, another cham- pion for the same bad cause, expresses him- self in a more elegant, but in no less shock- ing a manner : " Levicula vitiola lapsuum quotidianorum, aspergines et naevulae sunt ; quie per se non maculant et contaminant, sed quasi pulvisculo leviter aspergunt vitam Christianam ; ut nihilominus tamen per se sint perfecta, et undique immaculata rena- torum opera in hac vita."-)- If Mr. Wes- ley pleases to consider these passages, I hope he will be induced to alter his plirase, and rectify his notions. If he pleases to translate these passages, his followers may have an opportunity of seeing how nearly he approaches to some of the worst errors of Popery ; and may hence be admonished not to imbibe, without due examination, his doctrines ; nor submit with an implicit cre- dulity to his dictates. " The charges of the law are all answer- ed." At this sentence Mr. Wesley is high- ly ofl^ended. As the lion is said to lash himself into rage, so my objector stirs him- self up into a graceful indignation ; for there is nothing in the passage, or in the context, to awaken such a fiame of zeal. If Mr. Wes- ley had understood Aspasio according to the whole tenor of his discourse, there would have been no room lor bringing Count Zin- zendorf upon the carpet, nor for making that injurious conclusion, " Then neither God nor man can claim any obedience to • Venial sins are so minute and trivial, that they do not oppose the perfection of our love, nor can they hinder our obedience from being absolutely perfect. t The little tritiiing faults which are owing to our daily slips or mistakes, are like specks, or almost im- perceptible moles upon the body, which of themselves ilo not stain or defile, but as it were with small par- ticles of fine dust, lightly sprinkle the Christian's life ; so that nevertheless the works of the regenerate may be of themselves perfect, awUn all respects im- maculate, even in this life. the law." This is what Aspasio means : The claims of the law, as a covenant of works ; the claims of the law, as being the condition of life and glory ; the claims of the law, as requiring perfect obedience on pain of eternal death — these claims are all satisfied by our most blessed and gracious Surety : If not, they are still incumbent upon us, and upon every child of man. A burden this, which neither " we nor our fa- thers were able to bear ;" which, heavier than the sands of the sea, would have sunk us into the nethermost hell. This doctrine, therefore, is not " Antinomianism without a mask," but it is the doctrine of " righte- ousness without works," Rom. iv. 6, and of justification "without the deeds of the law," Rom. iii. 28. " Then neither God nor man can claim any obedience to the law." Yes, God Al- mighty may, and God Almighty does claim our obedience to the law, as a rule of life : he requires a conformity to its precepts, as to the image of himself; he demands a per- formance of its duties, as the means of bringing glory to his name, and paying sub- mission to his authority. And none will be so readily disposed, none will be so ef- fectually enabled to obey the whole law, as those ^who see themselves made righteous by the obedience of Christ ; who are there- by delivered from that tremendous curse, denounced on all ungodliness and unrighte- ousness of men. Aspasio thus exhorts his friend : " Let me desire you to imagine, rather may the blessed Spirit enable you to believe, that your sins are expiated through the death of Jesus Christ ; that a righteousness is given you. by virtue of which you may have free and welcome access^ to God." — " This is not scriptural language," says Mr. Wesley therefore it cannot be sound doctrine, is his way of arguing. Harmless enough, I must own. But what follows is not quite so modest. " I would simply say ;" and surely what I would say must be unexcep- tionably right. This is the conclusion we are to make ; otherwise what you allege is of no weight at all. " I would simply say, by liim we have access to the Father." This is beyond all objection proper ; it is taken from the apostle, and it includes what Aspasio expresses. The apostle's language is the ingot of gold ; Aspasio's sentiment is a thread drawn, or a leaf beaten from it. Methinks, before I dismiss this topic, I would desire you to turn back a moment, and reconsider what you have affirmed. Your sins are expiated ; — is not this scrip- tural language ? What else meaneth that expression of the apostle, " To make expia. tioii for the sins of the people." A righte- ousness is given you ; — is not this the J scriptural way of speaking? " They who 540 LETTERS TO THE receive the gift of righteousness, shall reign in life." "By which you have free access to God ;" — is not this both the dialect and the doctrine of the Holy Ghost ? " We have access with contidence (not through our punctual performance of any conditions, but) through the faith of him ;" by a fidu- cial reliance on our Lord's most precious obedience, blood, and merit. " 1 have seen such terrible effects of this luiscriptural way of speaking." Here I fancy you slip into a little mistake : you forget the distinction between the nse and the abuse of a doctrine, a distinction which you can easily make on other occasions. You have doubtless seen people, who use the most scriptural way of speaking, yet act inisuitably to their language ; what reflec- tions arose in your mind, and what infer- ence did you draw upon observing such an inconsistency ? You said i)erhai)s, " Their voice is Jacob's voice, but their hands iire the hands of Esau. Hence it apj)ears, that they are hypocrites ; they pretend one thing, and are really another." Make the same reflection, and draw the same infer- ence, when you hear people talking of "im- puted righteousness," yet see them loosing the reins to ungodliness ; then you will be consistent with yourself, and with truth ; ascribing the terrible effects, not to the wholesome doctrine but to the vitiated mind. " Where sin abounded," &c. Mr, Wes- ley rejects Aspasio's interpretation of this text, and offers one of his own ; one which he had given us a little while ago, and now serves a second time without any consider- able variation at our table. I shall only refer the reader to page 521, where he will find this text considered, and Mr. Wes- ley's exposition canvassed. In this and the two following paragraphs you find fault with the phrase imputed ; yet you say, " Concerning the thing there is no question." You would discard that parti- cular form of expression ; yet you add, " as to the doctrine we are agreed." Then, ac- cording to your own confession, all these youi' objections are a mere strife of words. Surely such a man as Mr. Wesley should know how to make a better use of pen, ink, and ])ai)er, than to litigate about letters and syllables. If I thought myself contending only about the more precisely proper form of expressing the same thing, I should be ashamed of my employ, and would this in- stant lay down my pen ; whereas I appre- hend, that we are not agreed as to doctrine, that there is a material and very wide dif- ference between us. My opinion, or rather my faith is, that our Lord's obedience to the moral law, in professed submission to its authority, and in exact conformity to its precepts — his performance of all holy du- ties, and his exercise of all heavenly graces — that all this is a most essential and dis- tinguished part of his merit ; that this is of higher dignity and greater value than the whole world, and all the righteousness in it : That the divine law is hereby more signally honoured, than it could have been honour- ed by the uninterrupted obedience of Adam and all his posterity : That God's justice, holiness, truth, receive greater glory from these unparalleled acts of duty, than from all the services of angels and men in their several wonderful orders : That this active righteousness, together with his most meri- torious sufferings, are the ground and cause of my acceptance with God ; are the very thing which procures and effects my justifi- cation ; making me not barely acquitted from guilt, but truly righteous, yea perfect- ly righteous, and that before the God of in- finite petietration and purity. This is a view of the doctrine incomparably magnifi- cent and inexpressibly comfortable. If you agree with your friend in all these particu- lars, speak and write comformably to such agreement ; then you will never again hear from him in this manner, neither will he receive any more such favoiu's from you as the letter now under consideration ; then we shall be perfectly joined together " in the same mind, and in the same judgment." Alas ! this union, I fear, is not so easily to be effected. Mr. Wesley still insists and still urges, " The authority of our church (which Aspasio pleads) and of those emi- nent divines (whose testimony Aspasio al- leges) does not touch those particular forms of expression." Justification through im- ])utedrigliteousness, orbeing made righteous through the obedience of Christ, I suppose J are the forms of expression intended. These, it seems, none of the quotations confirm, j establish, no, nor touch, in Mr. Wesley's ' opinion at least ; but I am inclined to hope, that the generality of readers will be of a different persuasion, and allow that the quotations and the expressions touch and resemble one another, as much as the wings of the cherubim in the ancient sanc- tuary; * " Does not touch." No! not yet? Then we must have recourse to some other autho- rity, and such a one I have at hand as you would hardly venture, or even wish to gain- say, I mean the authority of .Tohn Wesley, ]\I. A. who declares, in his Exposition of the New Testament, " This is fully con- sistent with our being justified by the im- putation of the I'ighteousness of Christ." Now I shall only remonstrate in imitation * •' Both the cherubims wcie of one measure, and oiicsi7.c ; and their wiu;s toiidied one another in the iiiklbl oi the liouso." 1 Kiufjs vi. l'5. 3?. REV. MR. WESLEY. 541 of the apostle : *' If thou thyself iisest this phrase, why wouldest thou compel others to lay it aside ? Or, why art thou displeased with others for a practice which thou al- lowest in thyself?" Surely you will not say, imputntkm of righteousness is quite a different thing from imputed righteousness. Does not the for- mer evidently include the latter? Can there be a proclamation of pardon, without a par- don proclaimed ? Can there be the purchase of an estate, without an estate purchased ? Or the imputation of righteousness, without a righteousness imputed ? If others should affect such subtle and self-deluding evasions, Mr. Wesley cannot, Mr. Wesley must not : he has precluded himself; nay, he has, with his own mouth, given a verdict against him- self. Is it not recorded in those lines sub- joined to your character of a Methodist ? Let faith and lore combine To guard your valiant breast ; The plate be righteousness divine. Imputed and imprest. This imputed righteousness was once a de- lightful theme ; your song in the house of your pilgrimage. Why isitnowa burdensome stone which you woidd fain shake off from yourself and others ? Are you become rich in yourself, and increased with goods of your own acquiring ? We know full well for what reason the phrase and the doctrine are re- jected, exploded, and reproached by the Romish superstition, because they display in the brightest light the beauty of free grace. They hold the door against all khid of human merit ; they cut off every the most distant pretension for glorying in man ; and refer all the honour of salvation to Jesus Christ alone- Admit justification through the imputed righteousness of Christ, and the grand bulwark, or the main pillar of Popery, falls to the ground ; while a solid foundation is laid for that triumph and gi'a- titude, expressed in the inspired hymn, " Let us be glad and rejoice (exceedingly, but) give the honour (all the honour) to him," Rev. xix. 7. " The righteousness of God, signifies the righteousness which God-man wrought out." *' No ;" says Mr. Wesley. Your reason, Sir, for this negative ? A child may deny; a man of judgment will disprove. Does not Mr. Wesley disprove, when he adds, *' It signifies God's method of justifying sinners ?" Just as forcibly as the Jews dis- proved the Messiahship of Jesus of Naza- reth, when they cried. Thou the Messiah ! No ; thou art a Samaritan and hast a devil. What they alleged, wanted a proof altoge- ther as much as what they denied. What Mr. Wesley here alleges, is a threadbare objection, already considered, and already confuted. Yet, since it relates to a point of the utmost moment, and that which is the main hinge of oiu- controversy, I shall not be deemed officious, if, as the shot has been once again discharged, I once again lift up my shield against it. " The righteousness of God, signifies God's method of justifying sinners." We have already shown how low an interpreta- tion this is ; how insipid in itself, and in- compatible with the current language of Scripture. On the other hand, how sublime and consolatoiy is the sense which Aspasio gives ! A righteousness which God himself has provided without any co-operation from his creatures. The righteousness of that most exalted, yet most condescending Savi- our, who is God and man in one, Christ ; a righteousness dignified with all the perl fections of the Godhead, therefore worthy to be the comfort, the joy, the never-ceasing boast of his people ; and sufhcient, infinite- ly sufficient, to save even the most vile, the most base, the most desperately ruined sin- ners. This is a righteousness, as much superior to all human attainments, to all angelic accomplishments, as the heaven of heavens is higher than a clod of the valleys. This is a righteousness which could never have entered into the heart of man or angel to conceive, but will be the cause of their ad- miration, and the subject of their wonder, to endless ages. This sense fully accounts for those rapturous expressions of the pro- phet, when, speaking of the all-surpassing gift, he thus addresses his fellow-sinners ; " Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Sion ; shout, O daughter of Jerusalem ; behold, thy King cometh unto thee. He is righte- ous, and having salvation." He is com- pletely righteous in his nature, has fulfilled all righteousness in his life and death, and has thereby obtained for thee a full pardon, a finished salvation, a sure title to eternal glory. This accounts for those more rap- turous expressions of the sacred writers, when in the fervour of their gratitude they call upon the whole creation to celebrate the goodness of the incarnate Jehovah : " Sing, O ye heavens ; for the Lord hath done it ; shout, ye lower parts of the earth ; break forth into singing, 3'e mountains ; O forest, and every tree therein, for the Lord^ hath (in his own person, by his own obedience and sufferings) redeemed Jacob, and glori- fied (not human abilities, not human works, but) himself, (and his own righteousness), in the restoration of Israel."* * Isa. xliv. 23. Should any one say, is this the sens* of the Prophet ? I ask, is not this the fullest, grand- est, divinest sense? Is it not a sense perfectly true t Is it not warranted by the gospel revelation? Is it not demanded by that declaration of our SaviouTj " They (the ancient i^criptures) testify of mc ?" 542 LETTERS TO THE In short, this is a righteousness which exalts God's justice ; which magnifies the hitv ; displays all his awful and amiable at- tributes in their fullest lustre. To contrive it, was unseaichable wisdom ; to bestow it, is invaluable treasure. It answers in the comiiletest manner all the grand and graci- ous purposes, both of God's glory and of man's salvation. True gospel this ! Glad tidings indeed ! An expedient for our re- covery greater than our hearts could wish. We may truly say, while meditating on this gift of consummate righteousness, " Where sin hath abounded, grace has much more abounded." The bricks are fallen down, but the most glorious repairer of our breach- es has built with hewn stone. Well might the apostle, having this supremely excellent righteousness in his view, look down with the most sovereign contempt upon every other (cause of) confidence, upon every other object of trust, and reckon them dross and dung. Well might he declare, that he would never be ashamed of the gospel, in which is this transcendently noble righte- ousness, in all its magnificence, riches, and glory. Do you think me rather too warm upon the subject ? Let me once again remit you to St. Chrysostom : read his exposition of that charming sentence, " The righteous- ness of God," Uoios, &c. This venerable father of the church speaks the thing as it is. He does not mingle our wine with wa- ter, but gives us the genuine tmth, and tri- umphs because of the truth. The doctrine of an imputed righteousness seems to have been typically taught, by the remarkable manner of clothing our first pa- rents. AH they could do for their own re- covery, was like the patched and beggarly mantle of fig-leaves ; this they relinquish, and God himself furnishes them with appa- rel : animals are slain, not for food, but sacrifice ; and the naked criminals are ar- rayed with the skins of those slaughtered beasts. The viclims figured the expiation made by Christ's death ; the clothing typified the imputation of his righteousness. " That does not appear," cries Mr. Wesley. As- pasio has produced an authority from the famous Milton. I could reinforce it by another from the elegant Witsius. If you are not satisfied with either, or both these testimonies, I will give you a reason for the sentiment. The victims most properly shadowed forth the expiation of giult by the Redeemer's blood, because it is the peculiar end of sacrifice to make atonement for sins ; the clothing most pertinently denoted the Saviour's righteousness, which is described both by the prophet and the apostle under this very image. " He hath covered me with the robe of righteousness," says the pro- phet Isaiah. " The tine linen '.vhich arrays the bride of the Lamb, is the perfect riglite- ousness of the saints,"* says the beloved disciple. " It is like a royal vesture, or a rich suit of apparel, upon all them that be- lieve," adds the apostle Pavd. The impar- tial reader, I promise myself, will allow these passages, if not to be absolutely de- cisive, yet to have somewhat more weight than that atom in your scale, " This does not appear." As for sanctification, this may veiy reasonably rank among the effects of being cleansed by the blood, and adorned with the righteousness of Christ. These blessings produce peace of conscience, and love of God ; just as commodious clothing produces warmth, and promotes health. And what is love of God, but holiness of heart in the seed, and holiness of life in the fruit ? As this (the nature of true holiness) is a matter of the last importance ; is a point on which multitudes, I fear, are mistaken ; I will leave it uppermost in your thoughts, in the reader's, and in those of. Reverend Sir, your, &c. LETTER X. Reverend Sir, — We are now entering upon a new province. Our business will be chiefly of the philological kind. We shall treat principally of words. But as they are the words which the Holy Ghost teacheth, they are like the combs erected in yonder hive : Not empty syllables, made only for sound ; but rich with divine sense, and full of the honey of the gospel, replete with the manna of heaven. May this pen be to the reader like Jonathan's rod ; when dipt in the delicious juice, it enlightened his eyes, refreshed his spirits, and cheered his heart ! " Almost every text, you are pleased to affirm, quoted in this and the following let- ter, in support of that particular form of expression, (imputed righteousness), is dis- torted above^measure from the plain, obyi- ous meaning, whicli is pointed out by the context." Let us examine these abused and distorted texts, in order to discover from whence the misfortune happened ; how the violence was done ; whether by Mr. Wes- ley's pen, or by Aspasio's tongue. The first is from the book of Job ; which, as it is greatly venerable for its antiquity, and singularly to be reo-arded for its impor- • Rev . xix. 8. Ta S(«a(i>^aTa being in the plu- ral number, I think may be translated, Justitia omnibus 7iumeris absuhita : A righteousness of all kinds, and all degrees, or comprehending every kind, and defective in no degree. Would you see the be.uity of this fine linen, or the wardrobe in which it is de- posited, consult Isa. xlv. -Ji. REV. MR. WESLEY. 5li) taiice, I shall beg leave to consider at large. | is the consequence of the Messiah's right- A sinner is described lying under a danger- eousness alone, which being imputed to the ous sickness, and brought by the force of sinner, becomes, for the blessed purpose of his disease to the brink of the grave; by justification unto life, his.' the multitude of his sins to the very bor-j So that Aspasio seems to have the im- ders of hell. In this deplorable condition, I port of language, and the scope of the con- " If there be a messenger with him, an in-| text, both on his side. And I may venture terpreter, one of a thousand, to show unto to add, he has the consolatory genius of the man his uprightness ; then he is gracious gospel yet more strongly pleading for his in- unto him, and saith, Deliver him from going ^ terpretation. It must yield but cold corn- down into the pit ; I have found a ransom."* " If there be with him a messenger" of the living God, a faithful ambassador of Christ, who may administer spiritual assis- tance to the poor afflicted creature. — " An interpreter," who knows how to open the Scriptures, and rightly to divide the word of truth ; who is a preacher of righteousness, and can properly apply the word of grace. — This is not every one's talent ; nor with- in the compass of every one's abilities. He is one of a thousand, to whom God hath given the tongue of the learned ; enabling him to speak a word in season, and suit the condition of each respective patient : '* To shew unto man his uprightness ;" that is, says Mr Wesley, " to convince him of God's justice, in so punishing him." But is this the instruction which such a distressed sufferer wants ? Is this the word of reconciliation which every true minister in ancient times did preach, and in later times doth preach ? Or is there any need of a choice instructor ? One skilled in the coun- sel of God, to teach what the common dic- tates of reason demonstrate ? In this inter- pretation, I can neither discern the true critic, nor the clear reasoner, nor the sound divine. Not the true critic : He would acknow- ledge that the antecedent in this clause is not God, but man. To man, therefore, if we regard grammatical propriety, the pro- noun his must be referred. Not the clear reasoner ; he would observe the emphasis of the word then, ver. 24, implying some dis- covery, or some conviction, in consequence of which deliverance from death ensues, or with which it is connected. Can this be a discovery or a conviction of God's justice in ])uiiishing him ? No, verily. Much less therefore can I discern the sound divine. He knows, and affirms constantly, that this * Job. xxxiii. 2."?, 24, I have the rather chosen to lay this whole passage before the reader, because a new inter|)retation is given to the word mcssexf^cr. Here it is supposed to denote a faithful and skilful minister of the gospel. In the Dialogues it is sup- posed to describe our Lord Jesus Christ himself. I scarcely know which sense to prefer. Perhaps both may be included, the author us well as the instrument, of comfort to the sick and sinful man. However, the point in debate between Mr. Wesley and As])asio, is not affected by the different application of this word. His uprightness, according to either exposition, may signify the Messiah's obedience and sufferings; must signify these things ; provided these are the onlyjus- titying righteousness of a sinner; the only way of obtaining the divine favour, and removiiig every evil. fort to tell a poor wretch, confined to the bed of languishing, and alarmed with ap- prehensions of eternal vengeance — but cold comfort must it yield to tell such a one, that he has deserved all this misery, and is justly punished. Whereas, to inform him of a righteousness sufficient to do away all his transgressions ; sufficient to reconcile him and render him acceptable even to the chastising God; sufficient to obtain his de- liverance, very probably from death, most assuredly from hell ; this is a reviving re- port indeed. This will make the bones which sin and misery had broken, to re- joice. Then the sinner and the sufferer, atten- tive to this instruction, and .applying this righteousness, is made partaker of pardon. God, the sovereign Lord of life and death, " is gracious unto him ;" and saith, in the greatness of his strength, as well as in the multitude of his mercies, " dehver him from going down into the pif of corruption, as a pledge of his deliverance from the pit of perdition. For " I have found a ransom," satisfactory to my law and to my justice. I have received an atonement in behalf of this once obnoxious, now reconciled trans- gressor. " He shall receive the blessing from the Lord, and righteousness." This you would render holiness ; but have you no Hebrew lexicon to ir form you that the word which signifies holiness is very different from the expression used by the Psalmist ? He says tzrkh, whereas holiness is expressed hykdsh. Besides, have you not observed that your interpretation would betray the Psalmist in- to apparent tautology ? He had, in the pre- ceding verses, displayed the duties of prac- tical godliness, and the graces of inherent holiness. The person he describes posses- ses the latter, and practises the former. To say, therefore, he shall receive holiness, when he has it already, would not suit David's correctness, however it may suit Mr. Wes- ley's fancy, or Mr. Wesley's design. In * "The uprightness, (says Mr. Caryl), chiefly in- tended here, is the righteousness of Christ, in and by which we are reconciled to, and made one withGotl. We never see where our uprightness is, till we sea there is nothing that makes us stand upright in the court of heaven, but only Christ our righteousness. This is the great duty of the messengers and inter- preters of Christ, to declare to man this righteousness for his uprightness. And that hence it is (as (^llhu speiiks) that God is and will bv gracious unto him." 644 LETTERS TO THE this clause, the evangelical moralist touches upon another particular, which enters as an essential part, into the character of a godly man — even " the righteousness which is oi' faith ;" denoted by the blessing of pardon, and the gift of righteousness- Take away this, and there is no acceptance with God. Take away this, and the gates, mentioned in the close of the psalm, are unalterably shut. Unless we are furnished with this passport, the everlasting doors never lift up their heads. If you exclude this peculiarity, the description is very imperfect, and the picture extremely deficient. Whereas, this adds the finishing touch, and gives true per- fection to both. Several passages are quoted in which the word tzrkh occurs- Sometimes you would have it signify mercy ,- sometimes justifica- tion; sometimes sjmtless holiness. But what proof do I find for establishing any of these significations, which difl^er so much from one another, and still more from the truth ? Nothing but the customary argument, " So it unquestionably means." Now you must unquestionably know, at least every novice Suppose we should admit this pretence, what does the critic gain thereby ? Must he not have recourse to that noble and comfortable doctrine for which we plead ? Let the word be translated mercy. Why is mercy shewn to sinners? Is it not on ac- count of the righteousness of their Surety? Let it be translated goodness. "Wherefore is goodness exercised to rebellious men ? Is it not because of the satisfaction made by their crucified Lord ? Render it what- ever you please, provided it conveys the idea of favour vouclisafed, or of the bene- fits conferred, it must terminate, still ter- minate, in that grand central [ oint, the in- carnation, obedience, and death of Imman- uel. " Sion shall be redeemed with judgment" — " After severe punishment," you say. The Hebrew preposition signifying afto-, is acJir. I find no trace of any such word in my edition of the Bible. You may as well render or interpret the passage, in the midst. And then, if some other critic should be inclined to translate itbefore, ov vomtd about, we should have a large compass of mean- in the language knows, that the genuine and , ing ; but where w'ould precision and exact- native sense of tzrkh, is righteousness. The i ness be found ? But why is Sion to be re- word expressive of mercy is hsd, neither in i deemed after severe punishment 9 Has her sense nor sound alike. As to justification, \ punishment any influence or sway in the the phrase never denotes that blessed effect, ' work of her redemption ? Does the pun- but the divine and meritorious cause which ishment of man pave the way for the sal- produces it. vation of God? Are sinners to wait for Shall I, in this inquiry, appeal to the best j pardon and reconciliation, till they have lexicons, the most approved translations, or been severely punished ? This is very the ablest interpreters ? No, I will refer you discouraging doctrine : and, blessed be God, to the decision of an interpreter, who is su- ; it is absolutely without foundation. The perior to all lexicons and all translations ; I gospel says, " To-day, even to-day, (sin- mean, the author of the epistle fo the He brews. He translates this very word, as it enters into the name of Melctlisedek ; and he translates it, not mercy, not justification, no, nor spotless holiness, but righteousness; even that righteousness whose fruit is peace with God, and peace in our own conscience. Now, will you play the critic upon this in- spired writer, and say, Unquestionably it means, not what the apostle has fletermined, not what Aspasio, supported by his autho- rity, has adopted ; but what I think fit to dictate ? An opposer of our Lord's imputed righteousness, who had more di./cretion or more subtilty than Mr. Wesley, would have argued in this manner : " The original word, I must confess, otight to be translat- ed ricihteoiisness ; This is undoubtedly the principal and leading signification of the term ; but then the circumstances and the context oblige us to understand it in the notion of mercy, of spotless holiness, "or of any thing else that serves our purpose." This would be more modest and more plausible, though not more just and solid than youv confident assertion. ners,) if ye will hear his voice, ye shall en- ter into rest." You need not tarry till you have been severely chastised ; but this in- stant believe in the Lord .Tesus, and you shall be saved. The Lord Jesus has been wounded and bruised in your stead ; he has received all the punishment which you have deserved ; yea, as a ransomer, he has paid double ; as a victim, he has suffered double for all your sins, Jsa. xl. 2. Considering these things, I am still disposed to abide by Aspasio's plain and obvious interpretation ; not to go out of my way in quest of the pricking briar and grieving thorn, when I meet with roses and lilies in the common road. " In the Lord have I righteousness." This will not satisfy our critic. It must be through the Lord. What piddling criti- cism is this, even in case it was true, and answered some specious end ! But it is by no means true. Every body knows, that the prefix h signifies in ; and every body but Mr. Wesley would blush to assert the contrary. Neither does it answer any val- uable end, but the reverse. It degrades the exalted sense, and impoverishes the rich REV. MR. WESLEY. 545 blessing. To have righteousness in the Lord, is abundantly more expressive of glorious grace, than barely to have righte- ousness through the Lord. IMordecai had riches and honours, through Ahasuerus and his royal favour; Esther had riches and honours, in Ahasuerus, as her royal hus- band : He by being a courtier, she by be- ing a consort, to the most magnificent mon- arch in the world. If Mr. "Wesley piddled in the foregoing, he flashes in the following passage. He assures us that yhhnim tzk means, spotless holiness. This is really a bold stroke in criticism. But like many other bold enter- prises, it is likely to prove, not a birth, but an abortion. Spotless ! You might as well have rendered it toothless. It has no more to do with the idea of spotless, than it has to do with the idea of an ivory tooth, or a polished toothpick. Literally translated, it signifies ages; and may denote the perpe- tuity of this righteousness, and of its bene- ficial effects. It was from the beginning, it is at this day, and it will be even unto the end, mighty to save. It is the one re- fuge and hope of sinners, in every age of the world, and under every dispensation of religion. Through all the clianges of time it has been, and through tlie unchangeable eternity it will be, their chief joy, and their crown of rejoicing. What righteousness shall give us peace at the last day, inherent or imputed ? To this question Aspasio has replied, in a very exi)licit manner, by presenting us with a pertinent extract from Bishop Hall, and by commenting upon a most important pro- phecy of Isaiali. In both which, all hu- man righteousness is set aside, and our peace is derived entirely from the glorious Shiloh.* From him, who made peace by the blood of his cross, and whose name is the Prince of Peace : Having this heaven- ly blessing, and the right of conferring it, as the peculiar privilege, or unshared pre- rogative, of his crown. Mr. Wesley is pleased to deny this doc- trine, and to associate with the Papists in ascribing our peace (and if our peace, then our salvation) "• partly to inherent, partly to imputed righteousness." But does our church do so ? Hear her own words : " AVe do not presume to come to this thy table, 0 merciful Lord, trusting in our own righteousness ;" much less then will she dare to approach his judgment-seat trusting in any such thing. Does the apostle Paul do so? Hear his own protestation : " That 1 may be found in Christ, not having mine • Gen. xlix. 10. " Shile,"— Schilo. Nomen Mes- Biae peculiare, tranquillatorem design:* is.— That is, the Maker of Peace, and the Author of Tranquillity, for rebellious and wretched men. own righteousness, which is of the law ;" which consists of my personal obedience, and inherent holiness ; but having this, as the source of my peace, and the strength of my salvation, " the righteousness which is of God by faith ;" even that inconceivably precious righteousness, which God my Sa- viour wTOUght, and which a siinier by faith receives. Did Mr. Wesley himself always do so ? Let those lines bear witness ; of which neither the poet, nor the divine, need be ashamed. My righteous servant and my .Son Shall each believing sinner clear, And all who stoop to abjure their own, Shall in his righteousness appear. Will that righteousness give you peace which you abjure ? Or is it pious, is it prudent, is it consistent, to trust in a right- eousness which you absolutely renounce ? That which you abjure (a stronger word could not be used,) you consider, not bare- ly as despicable, but as utterly abominable ; whereas, that which gives you peace at the awful tribunal, must not only be excellent, but incomparably excellent and valuable. See, my friend, how " thine own mouth condemneth thee, and not I ; yea, thine own lips testify against thee," Job xv. 6. O ! that you may return to your first senti- ments, and to your first love !* and no lon- ger expose yourself and your doctrine to be a bye-word among the people. If you per- sist in such , palpable inconsistencies, who can forbear taking up that taunting pro- verb, " A double-minded man is unstable in all his ways." But stop. A passage from St. John is introduced to snpjjort this opinion. " Christ died for us, and lives in us, that we may have boldness in the day of judgment." That Christ died for us, and lives in us, I readily acknowledge. But where do you find any of the a])ostles, from these pre- mises, drawing your conclusion? St. John, whom you quote, has no such logic. His inference is deduced from a very different topic. You give us a fragment of the apostle's words ; why do not you exliihit the golden bowl complete ? We shall then quickly perceive, that it contains a more sweet and salutary draught than you have provided for om- refreshment. Ev TUToi TiTiXiiarai » aya.'jfn f^i^' si^*") ""* •rapfi'/jiniii' '.^cof^iv sv t» OyCtsga xgiff'.^i v'hich » That Mr. Wesley may not be ashamed to retract a mistaken sentiment, I will break the ice and lead the way. In a copy of verses which I fornierly wrote, sacred to the memory of a generous benefactor, I re- member the following lines : Our wants relieved by thv indulgent care, Shall give thee courage at the dreadful bar, And stud the crown thou shalt for ever wear. These lines, in whatever hands they are lodged, and whatever elseof a like kind may have dropt from my pen, I now publicly disclaim. They are the very reverse of my present belief; in which I hope to persevere so long as I have any being. 2n ■546 LETTERS TO THE V/e translate, " Herein is oiir love made perfect, that we may have boldness in the day of judgment." !• John iv. 17. As you are fond of criticizing upon the original Scriptures, here you might have done it justly and honourably. Here you might have altered and reformed our translation ; while every capable judge woidd have own- ed your service to be seasonable and im- portant. The true sense of //.ii' ■/ii/.uv is with us, or luith regard to us. That is, God's love, celebrated with inimitable en- ergy and beauty in the preceding verse, God's love towards us is herein made per- fect ; this is its grand and ci'owning effect, that we should have^ i>ot a bare hope, but an imappalled boldness at the day of judg- ment. As though he had said, God, having re- conciled us to himself by the blood of his Son ; having renewed us after his own image, by his blessed Spirit testifjdng of' Christ in our hearts ; having carried us through all the dangers of life, and raised our bodies from the dust of death ; he crowns and consummates all these most indulgent acts of his gi'ace, by giAing us an undaunted and triumphant confidence at the day of universal audit According to this interi)retation, your own text is against your opinion, and refers this joyful assui'- ance, not to our love of God. but to his love of us ; not to inherent righteousness, but to free grace.* Aspasio thus translates St. Peter's words : " Who have obtained like precious faith in the righteousness of our God and our Sa- viour Jesus Christ." 2 Pet. i. 1. Mr. Wesley gives us to understand, that this translation is wrong. It should be faith through — and not through the righteousness, but through the mercy of our God and Sa- viour. He will not allow the Greek pre- position tv to signify in ; though I carrprove it to have been in peaceable possession of this signification for more than two thou- sand years. And the substantive liKaiofuvn must not denote righteousness, though it pleads, as a warrant for this weighty sense, the incontestable authority of St. Paul. Give me leave to tell you, Sir, that I can produce a multitude of proofs to overthrow yuiir fii-st puny alteration ; but jiroduce, if you CMu, a single passage from the whole New Testament', f to uphold your last dar- ing innovation. « Should it be said, in case you thus interpret the first ])art of tlie text, how will it connect with what follows ? Perfectly well. And none need wonder that we shall appear with such boldness at his coming ; since they cannot but observe, tliat ns he is, so are we in this world. We are actuated by his Spirit; we resemble him in all our conversation ; and hence it is evident that we are one with him. t The riffhteuusness of God, the righfeousuess of God oiir Sfiinour, never denotes, in all the apostolical writings, the attribute of nievcy. Ifit does, and Mr. Here I cannot but obsen'e, you abandon your favourite commentator Bengelius, of whose merit and excellence you speak so higldy and so justly. He says, in his notes upon the place, the righteousness of God our Saviour, is the righteousness of Christ ; which faith apprehends, and which is opposed to a man's own righteousness. What is more surprising, you depart from your ouai comment ; nay, you expressly contradict your own comment. To edify the readers of your Exposition, you in- form and assure them, that this jihrase sig- nifies " both the active and the passive ■righteousness" of Christ. To gainsay what Aspasio has advanced, you more than in- sinuate, that it signifies no such thing, but only " the mercy of our Lord." Nay, to corroborate the true sense, and determine the words invariably to the active and pas- sive righteousness of Christ, you add, " It is this alone by which the justice of God is satisfied. " If then Mr. Wesley would re- concile what be writes in his Expository Notes with what he writes in his animad- versions on Aspasio, he must maintain, tliat by the mercy of God alone his justice is satisfied. I mil not exclaim, on this occasion, as you have too freely and not very genteelly done in your letter to Mr. Law, " Exquisite nonsense !"* But this I may venture to say, Contradiction, didst thou ever know so trusty a friend, or so faithful a devotee ? Many people are ready enough to contradict others : But it seems all one to this gentle- men, whether it be another or himself, so he may but contradict. Permit me, for a moment, seriously to expostulate the case. Why should you be so averse to the righteousness of our God and Saviour ? Wliy should you ran- sack all the stores of yoiu- learning, and knowledge ; nay, descend to lunvarraii table criticisms, and quite unworthy your superior abilities, in order to exclude this most glo- rious truth from the Bible ; in order to ex- terminate this most precious privilege from the church? Attempt, if you think proper, to pluck the sun from the firmament, to hide the light from our eyes, and withdraw the air from our lungs ; but do not attempt to rob us of what is far more valuable than all these blessings, by depriving us of tliis inestimable treasure, the righteousness of Christ : which being a righteousness, im- maculate, all-surpassing, divine, swallows up and annihilates our guilt ; as the immense waves of the ocean would swallow up and annihilate the drop of ink that now hangs Wesley can make it appear, I will confessmyself mis- taken,'and thank him for correcting my error. * Mr Wesley, in the abridgment of his letter to Mr. Law, inserted in the Preservative from Unsettled Notions, has expunjjed this and some other indecent- ly harsh expressions. REV. MR. WESLEY. 547 on the point of my pen : WTiich, being a righteousness immaculate, all-surpassing, divine, will present lis before our God, and before his angels without spot and blemish ; in robes more beautiful than the colours of that resplendent bow, which is bended on the skirts of yonder cloud. " Therein is revealed the righteousness of God." — " God's method of justifying sinners." See this interpretation examined, and this objection answered before. We establish the law, as we expect no salvation without a perfect conformity to it ;* namely, by Clirist. " Is not this a mere quibble ?" says Mr. Wesley. Quite the reverse. It is no low conceit, but an exceeding serious and momentous truth. It is no play upon the sound of words, but ex- presses a doctrine of great soUdity, and of the last importance. Tell me, ye that cavil at this method of establishing the law, by what other expedient you propose to effect it ? By your past conduct ? That, you must acknowledge, has been more or less a vio- lation of the law. By your present obedi- ence ? That, you caimot deny, falls short of tJie sublime requirements of the law. By your future behaviour? Well, I will sup- pose that, in some future period, you reach the very summit of perfection. Still the law will have much to complain of, and will lay much to your charge. You have not magnified it by a holy nature. You have not presented it with the consummate righteousness of your whole heart, and your whole conversation. You have not begun, from the first moment of your existence, and persevered in this perfect conformity to the last breath you drew. In this case, either the law must recede from its most righteous demands, and the immutable God must compromise matters with his crea- tures, or else you can never enter into life. Unless you renomice all such impotent at- tempts and arrogant conceits, talk no more of " practising it in its full extent ;" but betake yourself to Christ, who is the end of the lavv,+ for accomplishing that right- eousness which its precepts demand, but which the frailty of man cannot perform. Thus we establish the law, as the con- summate standard of righteousness ; as the original condition of life ; and as that most venerable system, with which, a« well as with its divine Author, there is no variable- ness or shadow of changing. And does thi^ * The reader is desired to peruse Aspasio's own words, Lett. v. Tliere his sentiments are more fully explained; but the passage is not transcrib- ed, on purpose to avoid increasing the size of this piece, which alr'-ady swells to a larger bulk than the writer proposed. tRom.x.8. Christ is the end of the law. How? By brmgins in that righteousness, and giving that life, which the law shows, and shows the want of, but neither itself gives, nor can enable us to pcqtijre. mctliod of securing tlic dij;!ii(y of thi. law, hinder or discourage a dutiful observance of its commands? If not, yoiu- o!)jeL-tioii de- rived from that well-known text, " Without holiness no man shall see the Lord," is Telum imbellesineictu. If this be Ibe most rational and the most sure way of producing the love of God, which is the very essence of true holiness, then your objection recoils, and falls upon the head of your own cause. Can there be a more powerfid, a more endearing motive to love the Lord my God, than a persuasion of his ineffable love to me, in giving his dear Son, so to fidtil, so to satisfy the law on my behalf, that I am thereby delivered from all my offences ; am vested with a perfect righteousness ; and, on the foot of justice, as weU as mercy, stand entitled to eternal life? " Though I believe that Christ hath lived and died for me, yet I woiUd speak very tenderly and sparingly of the former." How widely then does your practice differ from the apostle's ? We believe, and there- fore have spoken, confidently and incessant- ly, in season and out of season. No, says Mr. Wesley, " We believe, and therefore we speak tenderly and sparingly." If you believe, that Christ has lived for you, and fulfilled all righteousness in your stead, surely you should give him the honour of this wonderful loving-kindness, and both preach, and talk, and sing of his goodness. It should be as a fire shut up in your bones ; and you shoidd speak, that yourself may be refreshed, and your Lord may be glorified. But you "fear dreadful consequences." What ! where the divine holiness fears none ? and the divine prescience sees none ? Are you then more deep-sighted to discern these distant evils than omniscience ? Me- thinks, I would not have spoken thus, un- less I had been wiser than the Spirit of in- spiration. Do you not, by cherishing and avowing such apprehensions, find fault with the glorious gospel in which this righteous- ness is revealed ? revealed as its most emi- nent article, and most distinguishing pecu- liarity ? A doctrine taught, and a blessing granted, and both from heaven ! yet not fit to be displayed, inculcated, and insisted on ! WTiat a contemptible idea must this give of our holy religion, and of our holy revelation, to an inquiring infidel ! " I would never s])eak of them (the ac- tive and passive righteousness of Christ) separately." This insinuates, what Aspa- sio disavows ; and what you cannot hint, without apparent injustice to his sentiments. " I would speak of it (the former) as spar- ingly as do the Scriptures." Here you ap- peal to those writings, which must either condemn your conduct or their own propri- etj'. At your leisure consider the case, and 5^8 LETTERS TO THE you will find the dilemma unavoidable. In the mean time, be so candid as to read a short note inserted in Theron and Aspasio, where you may see, that the Scriptures are far from speaking sparingly on this point. It is their favourite and fundamental topic : It runs through them as a golden woof through a warp of silver ; or as the vital blood through the animal structure. And whatever you, Sir, may be inclined to do, I liope no lover of Christ will be persuaded to secrete this invaluable truth of the gos- pel. Shall such a truth skulk in a corner, or speak only in a whisper ? No ; let us pro- claim it upon the house tops, and msh that the joyful sound may reach the very ends of the earth. The gift of righteousness must signify a righteousness not their own. Aspasio's expression is, not originally their own. Ori- ginally, he said, with a view of hinting, that in some other sense, it was and is their own ; their own, by way of imputation, though not by way of operation. This word, in order to make the sentence appear ab- surd, Mr. Wesley drops. But whether such a practice be free from guile, or what the apostle calls cunning craftiness, let the im- partial reader judge. Aspasio's interpretation of the phrase, authenticated by the language of Scripture, Mr. Wesley sets aside ; and introduces another, whose only recommendation to the public is, " I come from ]\Ir. Wesley's pen." Do you so? Then Ave will allow you all proper regard. But, because you come from Mr. Wesley's pen, must you therefore displace propriety and supplant truth ? make an inspired writer argue in- correctly, nay, jar with himself? This is rather too much for you to assume, even though you came recommended by a greater name. " The gift of righteousness signifies the righteousness or holiness which God gives to and works in them." Let us observe the apostle's aim, and the process of his rea- soning. His aim is to illustrate the man- ner of our justification. For this purpose he forms a contrast between Adam's trans- gression and Christ's obedience. Adam's transgression, which he himself committed, ruins all that spring from him. This is the leading proposition. Now, if the sacred disputant knows how to reason accurately, or to draw a conclusion justly, the conclu- sion must be to this eSect : So likewise Christ's obedience, which he himself per- formed, recovers all who believe in him. Through Adam's disobedience, without the consideration of their own misdoings, the former are made sinners ; through Christ's obedience, without the consideration of their own good (jualities, the latter are made vi^'hteous. Tiiough I am far, very far from disesteeming the holiness wrought in us, yet what place has it here ? In the article of justification, it is utterly excluded. It has no share in the accomplishment of that great work ; and every attentive reader will see, that it enters not into the apostle's present argumentation. Besides ; if the gift of righteousness signifies the holiness wrought in us, then we shall reign in life, by means of a personal, not of an imputed righteous- ness ; by means of an imperfect, not of a complete obedience. Then all the people of God will be justified, not by the obedi- ence of one, but each by his own, severally and distinctly : which is contrary, not only to a single, but to many express passages of this very chapter. I said, " Every attentive reader will see." Some, perhaps, may say within themselves, Is not this spoken in Mr. Wesley's manner ? the loose presumptive way of arguing which you blame in him ? To which it is answer- ed, I am far from resting my point upon this presumptive proof It is not the pillar which supports my cause, but only a festoon which adorns my pillar. However, was it accompanied with no proofs satisfactory to others, it must to Mr. Wesley, whom I sup- pose one of the attentive readers, have the force of demonstration. Hear his own words, in his comment on this very portion of Scripture : " As the sin of Adam, with- out the sins which we afterwards committed, brought us death ; so the righteousness of Christ, without the good works which we afterwards perform, brings us life."* It is a righteousness, without the good works, which we afterwards perform ; therefore, it is a righteousness not originally our own, but another's. It is not that which God works in us, but prior to it, and indepen- dent on it. If Aspasio had suborned an evidence, and put words into his mouth, he could not have devised a more direct and full confirmation of his doctrine than this volunteer witness deposeth. I thank you, Sir, for giving me so valuable an explana- tion of the gift of righteousness, and its blessed effects. I thank you likewise, for furnishing Aspasio with so incontestable a vindication against the objections of the au- thor of the Preservative. The obedience of one, so highly extolled by the apostle, is Christ's actual perform- ance of the whole law. — This you deny. I wish you had favom-ed me with your rea- sons for this denial. But my wishes of this kind are constantly disappointed. However, I will follow our Lord's direc- tion, and do unto others even as I would • Here Mr. Wesley speaks in perfect agreement with St. Chrysostom: O Xj, "Hujus rei sum tibi auclor: banc rem tibi comparo." Staph. Theaaur. in toe. this reason, ' to ascertain and appropriate the honour of this righte- ousness to Christ — as a work not wrought by us, nor wrought in us, but completed for us on the cursed tree,' — he insists and dwells upon that very observable circumstance, one : He iterates and reiterates the empha- ticaj word owe .■ He introduces it again and again, and can hardly prevail upon himself to discontinue the repetition. As by one man sin entered into the world ; through the offence of one many be dead ; not as it was by one that sinned, so is the free gift ; the judgment was by one to condemnation; by one man's offence death reigned by one ; as by the offence of o?(e, judgment came upon all men unto condemnation ; as by the disobedience of one, many were made sinners. Thus does the apostle again and again introduce the word one., and can hardly prevail on himself to discontinue the repetition ; that if a Jew should ask, How can the world be saved by the well-doing of one, or by the obedience of Christ? you may be able to reply on his own principles. How could the world be condemned by the evil-doing of one, or by the disobedi ence of Adam ?"• " That the righteousness of the law might be fulfilled in us." That is, by our repre- sentative, and in our nature. " Amazing !" cries Mr. Wesley- But why amazing ? Is not this the common import of the most common actions ? Do not you and I make laws in and by our representatives in parlia- ment? May not every debtor, when his surety has given full satisfaction to the cre- ditor, say, I have satisfied, I have paid, in my bondsman ? To invalidate this interpretation, you al- lege that the apostle " is not speaking here of the cause of our justification, but the fruits of it." Among all the excellent things which in your studies and in your travels you have learned, have you never learned that between saying and proving there is^a wide difference ? Never did I meet with a person who seemed so totally ignorant of this very obvious truth. Well, we must take your word without proof ; but I hope not without examination. " The apostle is speaking of the fruit." Is then the fulfilling of the law the fruit of justification ? This is the first time, I apprehend, that any such thing was deliberately affirmed. It is the cause, the adequate, the immediate, and in- deed the only proper cause of justification. But the fruits are, peace of conscience, and love of God; the spirit of adoption, and the hope of glory. Show me, Sir, where "hix.a.iuf/.a, in con- junction with T» yofiv, signifies the fruits of justification, and not those demands of the Chrysofit. vol. iii. p. 71. 72. Edit SaviL 650 • LETTERS TO THE law which must necessarily be satisfied be- fore justification can take place. Especially when that phrase is corroborated by that other strong expression, ^Xnoofr, • an ex- pression used by our Lord, concerning him- self, and the design of his coming into the world : Applicable to him alone who is the end of the law for righteousnciis ; aiid de- scriptive of that obedience by which alone the law is magnified. This sense, says Aspasio, agrees with the tenor of the apostle's arguing. " Not here," replies Mr. Wesley. Let us then consider the aim, and trace the progress of the apos- tle's reasoning. He is clearing up and con- firming that great ))rivilege of the gospel, " There is no condemnation to them that are in Jesus Christ." This, you will allow, is not the fruit of justification, but justifica- tion itself. As this wants no argument to confirm it, let us proceed in our attention to the sacred writer. There is no condemna- tion to those who are true believers in Jesus Christ ; who, in consequence of this belief, walk not after the flesh, but after the Spi- lit. Perhaps, some man will say, How can this be ? since even true believers fall short : Nay, they offend ; and therefore must be liable to the curse. For this reason, they are delivered from condemnation ; because " the law of the Spirit of life in Christ Je- sus," that new dispensation introduced in the room of the old law, promises the pri- vilege of pardon, and the gift of the Spirit, in which things the true life and real happi- ness of mankind consist : Promises both freely, without any works, purely on account of the righteousness which is in Christ Je- sus. And hereby this new, gracious, bless- ed dispensation " hath made me free from the law," which convinced me of sin, con- demned me for sin, and bound me over un- to death. These are glad tidings, doubtless. But are they not attended with two inconveni- ences ? Does not this procedure deprive the law of its due honour, and screen the sinner from his deserved punishment? By no means. " For that which was an abso- lute impossibility, on account of the" strict- ness of the " law, and the weakness of hu- man nature," God, to whom nothing is im- ])0ssible, has most wonderfully accomplished, by " sending his own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh," to live among sinners, to come under their obligations, and perform the obedience demanded from them. By send- ing him also to be a sacrifice for sin ; to be charged with its guilt, and undergo its pun- ibhmcnt. By this grand expedient, he has provided for the honour aiid perfect accom- plishment of the law. He has also con- denuied and punished sin with the utmost seveiity. And both these in the fitsh ; in that very nature which was guihy, disabled, ruined. Should you further ask, Wherefore is all this ? To lay the surest foundation, or make the most complete provision for our justifi- cation. " That the righteousness of the law, (both its righteous sentence and its righteous precepts, whatever either of suf- fering or of obedience it required from transgressors, being fulfilled inChriet) might be fulfilled in us." As it was all done in our name ; and as he and we are one. One in civil estimation, for he is our representa- tive ; one in legal estimation, for he is our surety ; one in social estimation, for he is our bridegroom. For which cause his righ- teous acts are ours, and his atoning death is ours. There was a time when you embraced these sentiments ; when you had such a view of things ; when such language came out of your mouth ; which even now stands upon record, under your own hand. See your Principles of a Methodist. If you have forgotten them, permit me to remind you of them. " Christ (you say,) is now the righteousness of all them that truly be- lieve in him. He for them paid the ransom by his death ; he for them fulfilled the law in his life. So that now, in him, and by him, every believer may be called a fulfiller of the law." Since you pronounce 7«y sense of the apostle's words utmatnral ; I adopt, I espouse t/otirs.* And so much the mere readily, as it will puzzle sagacity itself u discern a difference between them. " I totally deny the criticism on ^ixaioat-vn and hxaicofAci." Then be so good as to sug- gest a better. Or, if this should be some- what diflScult, at least favour us with a rea- son for this your total denial. Not a word of either. Strange ! that a man of ordina- ry discernment should offer to obtrude upon the public such a multitude of naked, un- supported, magisterial assertions ! Should ever be able to persuade himself that a po- sitive air will pass for demonstration, or supply the place of argument ! If this be to demonstrate, if this be to confute, the idiot is as capable of both as the philosopher. May I not cry out, in your own strain. Oh, how deep an aversion to the imputed righte- ousness of Christ does this Arminian scheme discover ! since it will make a man gainsay, when he knows not why, or wherefore ? St. Paul declares, that the " Gentiles, who followed not after righteousness, had attain- ed unto righteousness." Upon which As- pasio observes, that the righteousness here * Should Sir. Wesley say. Though I used thcc words, I never intended them for a comment on th;s passage. If you did not, 1 irnai,'ine the compilers of our Homilies, from whom they are taken, did. At least they regarded Ihis text as a fouadatioiv, a war- rant, a piooi of their doctrine. REV. MR WESLEY. 551 meiitioncJ coul.l not be any peisonal righte- ousness. To which Mr. VVesley replies, " It was." And to render his reply quite irresistible, a perfect thunderbolt in argu- mentation, he adds, " Certainly it was." How, Sir ! Did they attain personal righte- ousness without seeking after it? Are you becoming a Calvinist ? you that had rather be an Atheist ? Could the zealot of Ge- neva go greater lengths ? Aspasio will not deny, that these Gentiles were sanctified as well as justified ; but he will venture to af- firm, that no degree of sanctification can make the persons righteous who are once become sinners. Christ, like Elijah, first casts his mantle over them ; a!id then, like E'isha, they forsake all, and follow him. " The righteousness which the Gentiles attained, could not be a personal righteous- ness." " Certainly it was." — Then it was the righteousness of the law ; whereas, the .vighteousness which they attained, is ex- pressly said to be the righteousness of faith. Then it was a righteousness consisting of good works and godly tempers ; whereas, their righteousness consisted in believing, according to the apostle's own explanation, " With the heart man believeth unto righ- teousness." Then it was the righteousness of man. Personal righteousness, and im- planted holiness, pass in the Scriptures un- der that denomination. Whereas, thest Gentiles " submitted themselves to the righteousness of God." If what these Gen- tiles attained had been a personal righteous- ness, it jwould have been no stumbling- block to the Jews. Even they would have fallen in with such a system of religion, as should ascribe righteousness and salvation to their own duties and their own deeds. You say, " It was implanteil as well as imputed." Here, then, you acknowledge an imputed righteousness. You yourself use the phrase ; you affirm it to be, if not the whole, part at least, of the apostle's doc- trine. I wish you had been of this mind when you began your letter. Then you would not have conjured me, by all that is venerable and important, to discontinue an expression which conveys — your own — the apostle's meaning — and the meaning of the Holy Ghost. You join imputed and implanted righte- ouswess. So, in case this address to your- self should pass through the printer's hand, would I join a handsome type and pertinent reasoning. Yet I apprehend, when you sit down to examine the essay, you will regard only the latter. What you associate, you associate properly. The first is the trunk, the last is one of the branches which spring fiom it. But the apostle seems, in the ])hice before us, to be considering the first only. The last he reserves for some future occasion. He is speaking of the righteous ness by which we are saved ; and that is solely the imputed righteousness of Christ : He is speaking of the righteousness which was an eye-sore and an offence to the self- conceited Jews ; and this was the only im- puted righteousness of Christ : He is speak- ing of a righteousness, contradistinguished to that righteousness which is described by " He that doeth these things ;" and this can be nothing else but the imputed righteous- ness of Christ. Therefore, though love of God, and conformity to his image; though the pure heart and the devout affection, are the inseparable concomitants, or rather the genuine produce of imputed righteousness ; yet here they come not under consideration. To force them into this passage, is to make them appear out of due season. Such an exposition may bespeak a zealous o/Ucious- ness, not a distinguishing judgment ; be- cause it confounds the order of the apostle's plan ; it defeats the design of his argument, if it does not introduce self-contradiction into his arguing. This righteousness came upon the Gen- tiles, as the former and hitter rain upon the earth. To them was fulfilled the word spoken by the i)rophet Isaiah, " Let the skies pour down righteousness." As the earth engendereth not the rain ; has not the least influence in forming, or the least agency in procuring the refreshing showers, but only receiveth them as the mere gift of Providence ; so these Gentiles had not the least influence in effecting, nor the least agency in procuring this righteousness. When the good news came into their terri- tories, they were totally destitute of it, they were utterly unconcerned about it, they knew nothing at all concerning it. But seeing it revealed in the gospel, seeing it displayed as the work of God, and hearing it oft'ered as the gift of God, they were not disobedient to the heavenly invitation. They believed the report, they accepted the blessing, and relied upon it for life and sal- vation- Then, " as the rain coming down, and the snow from heaven, returneth not thither again, but watereth the earth ; and maketh it bring forth and bud, that it may give seed to the sower, and bread to the eater ;" so, this inestimable truth being ad- mitted into the soul, Christ and his righte- ousness being received to dwell in the heart, Eph. iii. 17, all the powers of intellectual nature, or what St. Paul calls " the inner man," are exhilarated, quickened, and fruc- tified. They bud as the rose, and blossom as the lily ; they bring forth the fruits of inward love, of outward obedience, of uni- versal godliness. " For instruction in righteousness — in the righteousness of Christ." " Was there ever such a comment before ?" May I not an- swer, in your own words, Was there ever 552 LETTERS TO THE such a method of confutation used before ? But you add, " The plain meaning is, For training up in hohness of heart and of life." I wish you had thought of introducing this interpretation by the following short preface, " I take it for granted." You would then have been sure of saying one truth. But if this does not appear plain to me, as you see it did not to Aspasio, methinks you should lend me your spectacles, or favour me with your reasons. If you please to examine the passage, you will find holiness of heart and life compre- hended in one of the preceding expressions. ITfoj i-TTixtooiuKTit signifies, For restoration of the man to a state of moral uprightness ; which must include a renovation of the mind, and a reformation of the conduct. After this comes, very properly and without any tautology, very needfully and to the ex- ceeding comfort of the sirmer, another most valuable property of the Scriptures. They instruct the reader in the Christian righte- ousness ; in the justifying righteousness ; in that mysterious, but incomparably preci- ous righteousness, which no other book in the world displays, mentions, or so much as hints : Yet, without which, we could never stand in the judgment, never find acceptance with God, nor be admitted into the realms of glory. If you reject this sense, the apostle's character of the sacred volumes is very de- fective. It leaves out what is their supreme excellence and most distinguishing peculia- rity ; what is first, and above all other things, necessary for our fallen race. A traveller undertakes to give an account of some cele- brated jjicture-gallery. He describes the dimensions of the structure, the form of the windows, the ornaments of the roof; but he quite forgets, at least he totally omits, the article of the paintings. Is this a mas- terly execution of his design ? Is this satis- factory to the hearer's curiosity? " He shall convince the world of righte- ousness."— " That I am not a sinner, but innocent and holy." How flat and jejune is this exposition ! Nothing can be more so, to my taste. Innocent and holi/ ! Is this all the Spirit witnesses concerning the most adorable and infinitely deserving Son of God ? Does this come up to the inconceiv- able dignity of his person, and the immense- ly glorious perfection of his work? Is this sufficient to comfort the conscience, smitten with a sense of most damnable guilt, and alarmed with the terrors of eternal ven- geance ? The whole clause contains a platform or summary of evangelical truth ; of that all- important truth which ministers are to teach and preach ; which the Holy Spirit will ovvu and accompany with his influence, 1 he duly advert to the apostle's subject, or and which is thereby made the power of follow the clue of the context? The sub- God to the salvation of" the hearers. He jject is reconciliation with God, justification shall convince the world of sin : of the guilty and miserable state in which all man- kind are plunged by nature, and in which every individual person continues so long as he is destitute of an interest in Christ; so long as he believeth not in him who died upon the cross, and is gone to the Father. Of righteousness : He shall reveal the Re- deemer's most perfect and magnificent righteousness in their hearts ; that righte- ousness which satisfies the justice of the Most High, and brings complete redemp- tion to transgressors : Testifying, not bare- ly that he is innocent ; such was Adam in paradise : not barely that he is holy ; such are angels in heaven. Shall the eternal Creator, even after his humiliation unto death, have no higher a testimony than a set of mere creatures ? Yes, verily ; the Holy Ghost will convince the world, that Christ's righteousness is the grand and capital blessing which the prophets foretold, and which not only fulfils, but magnifies the law : That it is the righteousness, the very righteousness of the incarnate Jeho- vah ; and therefore renders every soul, to whom it is imputed, unblamable, unreprov- able, complete. Glorious oflSce this, wor- thy to be the object of the almighty Com- forter's agency ! in performing which he ad- ministers strong consolation. Then he shall convince of judgment ; shall condemn and cast out the prince of this world, intro- ducing a most happy change into the heart and life ; shall begin and carry on the work of grace, sanctification, obedience ; and all through the joyful knowledge, together with the personal appropriation, of this justifying righteousness. " That we might be made the righteous- ness of God in him :" which cannot be in- trinsically, but must be imputatively. This interpretation Aspasio establishes, attempts at least to establish, fiom the tenor of the context, from the apostle's antithesis, and from several venerable names. But what are all these to Mr. Wesley ? No more than the arrow and the spear to Leviathan. Nay, not so much. That scaly monster " esteemeth iron as straw, and brass as rot- ten wood." But Mr. Wesley, cased in his own self-sufficiency, esteemeth all the afore-mentioned evidences as mere nothings. He totally disregards them. Reason, gram- mar, precedents, are eclipsed by his bare negative, and vanish into an insignificancy not worthy of notice. When Aspasio, supported by such great authorities, says, this cannot be intrinsical- ly, but must be imputatively ; Mr. Wesley, supported by his greater self, replies, ".I3oth the one and the other." But does REV. MR. WESLEY. 553 before God, or that, whatever it be, which is implied in not imputing trespasses. The context intimates, that intrinsic holiness is not yet taken into consideration, but is re- served for the next chapter. There the apostle exhorts the Corinthians, not to re- ceive this infinitely rich grace of free justi- fication in vain ; but to shew its efficacy, to shew its excellency, and recommend it to the unbelieving world, by an unblamable conversation, giving no oft'ence in any thing. Justification, then, is the only point which the apostle in this passage considers ; and justification is the fiuit of imputed righte- ousness solely, not of inherent righteous- ness in any degree. This we must allow, unless we prefer the impositions of Trent before the confession of our church. Faith says unto us, " It is not I that take away your sins, but C'hrist only ; and to him on- ly I send you for that purpose, forsaking therein ail your good words, thoughts, and works, and onlyputtingyour trust in Christ:" Thus speaks and thus teaches our reformed church. " If any one say, that man is jus- tified only by the imputation of Christ's righteousness, or only by the remission of sins, without the co-operation of in- herent grace and holy love, let him be ac- cursed ;" Sess. vi. Can. 1 1 . Thus dog- matizes, and thus anathematizes, that mo- ther of falsehoods. Choose now your side. For my part, I retiounce and abjure the proud and iniquitous decree. If you per- sist in your present opinion, there will be an apparent harmony between yourself and Rome, but an essential difference between yourself and Aspasio. " God, through him, first accounts, and then makes us righteous." How ! does God account us righteous, before he makes us so ? Then his judgment is not accord- ing to truth ; then he reckons us to be righteous, when we are really otherwise. Is not this the language of your doctrine ? this the unavoidable consequence of your notion ? But how harsh, if not horrid, does it sound in every ear ! Is not this absolute- ly ineconcilable with our ideas of the Su- preme Being, and equally incompatible with the dictates of Scripture ? There we are taught that God "justifieth the ungodly." IMark the words : " Tlie ungodhj are the ob- jects of the divine justilication. But can he account the ungodly righteous ? Impossi- ble ! How then does he act ? He first makes them righteous.* After what manner ? By imputing to them the righteousness of his dear Son. Then he pronounces them righteous, and most truly ; he treats them as righteous, and most justly. In short, * Agreeably to this, our church speaks: "In justi- fication, of unjust, we are made just before God;" and adds, ' ' This is the strong rock and foundation of Christian religion." — Horn, ofjustif. part 2. then he absolves them from guilt, adopts them for his children, and makes them heirs of his eternal kingdom. In the grand tran- saction, thus regulated, mercy and truth meet together ; all proceeds in the most harmonious and beautiful consistency with the several attributes of God, with his whole revealed will, and with all his righte- ous law. " The righteousness which is of God by faith, is both imputed and inherent." Then it is like interweaving linen and woollen ; the motley mixture forbidden to the Israel- ites. Or rather, like wearing a thread of the finest gold with a hempen cord, or a spider's web. The righteousness which is of God, is perfect, consummate, everlasting. Not so inherent righteousness, your own self being judge, and your ov»"n pen being witness. In the righteousness which is of God, the apostle desires to be found, before the great and terrible tribunal of the Lord. His own righteousness, or the righteousness which is inherent, he abandons, as absolutely improper for this great purpose ; being no more fitted to give him boldness at the day of judgment, than dung and filth are fit to introduce a person, with credit and dignity, to court. The righteousness which is of God, is unknown to reason, is revealed from heaven, and without the works of the law : whereas, the righteousness inherent, is dis- coverable by reason, was known to the Heathens, and consists in a conformity of heart and life to the precepts of the law. By the latter, we act, we obey, and offer our spiritual sacrifices unto God ; by the former, we work nothing, we render nothing unto God, but only receive of his grace. They are, therefore, not the same, but totally distinct. To blend and confound them betrays unskilfulness in the word of righteousness ; derogates from the honour of Christ ; and tends to cherish a legal frame, or what the Scripture calls, " a spirit of bondage." If you would approve your- self a workman that need not be ashamed, rightly dividing the word of truth, thus you should speak, and thus you should write : The righteousness of God is always imput- ed ; but, being imputed, it produces the righteousness inherent. Being justified by the former, saved from hell, and rendered meet for heaven ; we are sanctified also, and disposed to love the Lord, who has dealt so bountifully with us. And if to love, then to worship him, to serve him, to imitate him- " My faith fixes on both the meritorious life and atoning death of Christ." — " Here we clearly agree." How can you clearly agree, either with Aspasio,. or with your- self, or with common sense? How with Aspasio ? since you question, in direct con- trariety to his sentiments, whether the death 554 LETTERS TO THE of Christ be not the whole of what St. Paul styles, " The obedience of one." — Ilow with yourself? For, did you not de- clare a little while ago, that fallen man " is not justified by perfect obedience ?" Is not Christ's meritorious life perfect obedience ? If your faith fixes on this perfect obedience, is it not for the purpose of justification? — How with common sense ? Since you sup- pose that the " Scripture ascribes the whole of our salvation to the death of Christ ;" so entirely ascribes it to the death of Christ, " that there was no need of his fulfilling the moral law, in order to purchase redemption for us ;" what reason, or shadow of reason can you have, to fix upon what we call the merit of his life? If what you suppose and affirm be true, there was no kind of meri- torious efficacy in his life. His life, and all liis labours, were in this respect a mere superfluity. Salvation might have been obtained, and redemption purchased, with- out their concurrence. Therefore, to fix upon them is to fix upon a phantom, and to rest your hopes upon a thing of nought. But stay. Am I not repeating the mis- conduct which proved so fatal to the fa- mous Earl of Warwick and his forces ? At the battle of Gladmore, while the scale of victory hung in suspense, they saw a consi- derable body of troops advancing. Sup- posing them to be enemies, the bowmen made a general discharge, and galled them with their arrows. But they soon perceiv- ed their mistake ; that they had been op- posing their friends, and annoying their al- lies. Perhaps by this time you are become my ally. You may have seen your errors, may have corrected your notions ; saying, in ratification of both, " We agree." That is, " I would no longer exclude the meritorious obedience of Christ. But this, together with his atoning death, I look justification with true godliness, and the upon as the only cause of my justification. This I call his righteousness ; and this, be- and, at the same time, produces those de- sirable effects, that love of God, that de- light in his perfections, that conformity to his will, which the law of works requires in vain." If this is what you mean, by " We agi'ee," I would seal and ratify the agreement with the last wisli and the last words of the ce- lebrated Father Paul, Esto perpetua. Be this the case, and you shall have, not only the right hand of fellowship, but the right hand of pre-eminence- Only I crave one favour in return -. Dismiss those injurious insinuations, which cause your readers to suspect that Aspasio considers the meri- torious life of Christ separate from his atoning death ; whereas, he affirms them to be inseparable, like the correspondence of motion between the two eyes. Try if you can make one of your eyes move to the right, while the other wheels off to the left. When you have done this, then, and not till then, you may have some reasona- ble pretence for these your suggestions. Alas ! Quanta de spe decidi ! I find my hopes were too sanguine. We are not come to the desired coalition. In this very par- agraph you begin to fly off. By talking of imputed righteousness, you tell us, " we are exposed to an exceeding great hazard ; even the hazard of living and dying without holi- ness." Pray, Sir, have you seen a little piece written upon this subject by the Rev. Mr. Witherspoon ? If you have not, let me recommend it to your perusal. In case you are ignorant of that powerful influence which justification through the righteous- ness of Christ has upon sanctification and true holiness, from this treatise you may learn some valuable knowledge. In case the author of this treatise is mistaken, in maintaining the ^indissoluble connexion of never-failing efficacy of the Redeemer's righteousness to bring forth willing obedi- ing imputed to me, becomes my plea, my ence in the believer, you may have an op- portion, and rational foundation for my everlasting felicity. This I receive by faith. Which I now look upon, not as constitut- ing any part of my recommendation, but only as receptive of the fulness laid up for portunity of rectifying his sentiments. You may give us, in your next publication, a preservative, not only against unsettled, but against unsound notions in religion. Theron, speaking of gems, says, " When me in Christ. Though the law of works nicely pohshed, and prodigal of their lustre, saith. Do and live ; I am now made sensi- ble that the law of faith says, — Be verily persuaded that Christ is sufficient for thy acceptance, without any doing of thy own at all. Since Christ is given to me, in the sacred record given to me as a sinner, to be they stand candidates for a seat on the vir- tuous fair one's breast." This displeases Mr. Wesley. Would he then have gems placed on the vicious or lascivious breast ? Or would he have them put to no use at all, but buried in darkness ? Did the Al- receivcd without any conditions, I joyfully mighty pour such brilliancy upon them, on- accept the gift. I am satisfied with his do- ly that they might be consigned over to ob- ing and suftigring : They are divinely excel- I scurity ? Did he not rather array them lent, and infinitely sufficient: I neither ' with lustre and with charms, that they might wish for, nor think of any thing more, to display something of his own brightness ; obtain my complete salvation. This way incite his rational creatures to admire his of salvation effectually excludes boasting ; transcendent excellency, and teuch his faith- REV. MR WESLEr. 555 fill people to apprehend the emphasis of that animating promise, " They shall be mine, in the day that I make up my jew- els." " I cannot reconcile this with St. Paul. He says, not with pearls ; by a parity of reason, not with diamonds." Do you rightly understand St. Paul ? Do not you dwindle his manly and noble idea into a meanness and littleness of sense ? such as befits the superstitious and contracted spirit of a hermit, rather than the generous and exalted temper of a believer, " who stands fust in the liberty wherewith Christ hath made him free?" Our Lord says not, they that are splendidly apparelled, are apparelled unsuitably to Christianity, or in a manner inconsistent with the fear of God ; but they are in king's courts, and their dress is adapted to their station. Neither does St. Paul forbid the use of pearls, or costly ar- ray, when a person's circumstances will af- ford them, and his situation in life may re- quire them : He rather cautions against the abuse, against looking upon these glittering things as any part of their true dignity, on which they value themselves, or by which they would be recommended to others. The word is not mluTae-^ai, put on, (Mark vi. 9.); nor ^ojuv, wear, (Matth. xi. 8.) ; but xafffiiiv, adorn. " Let them not place their excellency in such mean distinctions ; no, nor covet to distinguish themselves by these superficial decorations ; but rather by the substantial ornaments of real godliness and good works, which will render both them and their religion truly amiable. The apostle Peter observes the same propriety of speech, and the same correct- ness of sentiment : " Whose adorning let it not be that outward adorning of wearing of gold, or plaitmg the hair, or putting on of apparel." Was this an absolute prohi- bition of the several particulars mentioned, it would forbid all kind of clothing, or the putting on of aiiy apparel. Take the pas- sage in your rigorous sense, and it concludes as forcibly against garments as against orna- ments ; we must even go naked, and lay aside our clothes, as well as our gems. Whereas, understood according to the na- tural signification of the words, (&v o x»«r/<«.-, rot &v TO ivluf£cc) it conveys a very import- ant, and a very seasonable exhortation : " Christians, scorn to borrow your recom- mendations from the needle, the loom, or the toy-shop : This may be the fashion of a vain world ; but let your embellishments, or that which beautifies and distinguishes your character, be of a superior nature. Let it be internal; not such as the sheep have wore, or the silk-worms spun ; but such as is peculiar to the immortal mind, or ' the hidden man of the heart.' Let it be substantial J not such as the moth cor- rodes, or such as perishes in using; but ' fhat which is not corruptible ;' which be- ing planted on earth, will be transplanted into heaven ; and being sown in time, will flourish to eternity. Let it be that adorn- ing, whose excellency'^ is unquestionable, and ' whose praise is of God, (even) the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit :* which will render you, not indeed like the grandees of the earth, but like the Son of the Highest ; shewing that you are united to him, interested in him, and partakers of his divine nature." " In all things, I perceive, you are too favourable, both to the desire of the flesh, and to the desire of the eye." I rather think Mr. Wesley istoo censorious of others, and too indulgent to himself. Why may not Theron wear his richly embossed gold watch, and his lady use her golden buckle set with diamonds, as well as you and I wear a silver buckle, or make use of our silver watch ? Why may not an earl or a countess put on their robes, sumptuous with embroi- dery, or their coronet glittering with jewel.s, as inoffensively as you and I put on a bea- ver hat, or trail after us a prunella gown ? There is no necessity for this our spruce- iiess. A fustian jacket would keep our backs warm, and a flannel cap our heads, as well as our more elegant array. Alethinks, therefore, we should either abstain from all needless finery in our own dress, or else forbear to censure it in others. Rather, we should all, in our respective stations, and according to our respective circumstances, use these things as not abusing them ; re- membering that the fashion of this world passeth away : Looking, therefore, for that city of the living God, " whose walls are of jasper, whose buildings are of pure gold, and whose foundations are garnished with all manner of precious stones ;" but whose ex- ternal splendour is infinitely surpassed by the glory of God, which lightens it, and by the presence of the Lamb, which is the light thereof. Wh«;n we are blessed with clear apprehensions of this ineffable glory, which shall be revealed ; when we live un- der a delightful persuasion that God hath given to us this eternal life; gems will have but littlelustreinoureye, and less and lessallure- ments for our heart. All the pomp of this transient world will appear to us, as the pa- lace of Versailles or the gardens of Stowe would appear to some superior being, who, from an exalted stand in either, should con- template the terraqueous globe, and at one view take in its vast dimensions, its prodigi- ous revolutions, and its most copious furni- ture. " You are a gentle casuist as to every self-indulgence which a plentiful fortune can furnish." I would consider the end for which these things were created, and point 556 LETTERS TO THE out and enforce their'proper improvements. They were created, not to tantalize, but to treat us ; not to ensnare, but to gratify us. Then they are properly improved, when we enjoy them with moderation, and render them instruments of usefulness ; when they are regarded as pregnant tokens of our Cre- ator's love, and act as endearing incitements of our gratitude. What you call my casu- istry, is built upon a maxim which will never be controverted, " Every creature of God is good, if received with thanksgiving." It is nothing else but an attempt to display what is affirmed in the former clause, and to enforce what is prescribed in the latter. In the sixth letter, in the ninth, and in other parts, Theron enumerates some of the finest productions, ai;d most choice accom- modations, which the earth, the air, the seas afford : in imitation of the apostle, who in one sentence expresses abundantly more than my three volumes contain, " He giveth us all things richly to enjoy :" in imitation of the Psalmist also, who, in several of his hymns, especially in Psalm civ., celebrates the profuse munificence of Jehovah ; pro- fuse, even in temporal blessings, and with regard to our animal nature. Does our na- ture call for any thing to support it ? Here is " bread, which strengthens man's heart," and is the staff of his life. Does our nature go farther, and covet things to please it ? Here is " wine, that maketh glad the heart of man ;" regaling his palate, and exhilarating his spirits. Is our nature yet more cravirg, and desirous of something to beautify it? Here is "oil, that maketh the face to shine ;" that the countenance may appear both cheerful aud amiable ; that gaiety may sparkle in the eye, while beauty glows in the cheek. Now I cannot persuade myself, nor is all Mr. Wesley's rhetoric power- ful enough to convince me, that it is any discredit, or any error, to follow such ex- amples. " But I mention the exquisite relish of turbot, and the deliciousness of sturgeon. And are not such observations beneath the dignity of a minister of Christ ?" Mr. Wes- ley does not observe from whom these re- marks proceed. Not from Aspasio, but Theron. To make him speak like a minis- ter of Christ, or like a Christian of the first rank, would be entirely out of character. It would have betrayed an utter ignorance, or a total disregard of Horace's rule, Redderepersonaescit convenientia cuique. However, I am willing to take all upon my- self, and be responsible for the obnoxious sentiments. I would only ask, is any thing spoken of which the Almighty has not made? and shall I think it beneath my dignity to magnify the work of his hands ? — Is any thing spoken of which the Almighty has not bestowed ? and shall I think it a diminution of my character to acknowledge the various gifts of his bounty ? — Has God most high thought it worthy of his infinite Majesty to endue the creatures with such pleasing qua- lities as render them a delicious entertain- ment to our appetites .■" and shall I reckon it a mean unbecoming employ to bear wit- ness to this condescending indulgence of the Deity ? Particularity in recounting be- nefits, is seldom deemed a fault. It comes under no such denomination in my system of ethics. If Mr. Wesley has a better, in which neglect and insensibility are ranked among the virtues, I must undoubtedly, upon those principles, drop my plea. Where they are commendable, my conduct must be inexcusable ; and if inexcusable, I fear irre- claimable. For I shall never be ashamed to take a fish, a fowl, or a fruit in my hand, and say, " A present this from my all-boun- tiful Creator ! See its beauty, taste its sweetness, admire its excellency, and love and adore the great Benefactor. To us he has freely granted these and other delights ; though he himself, in the days of his flesh, had gall to eat and vinegar to drink." " But the mentioning these in such a manner, is a strong encouragement of luxu- ry and sensuality." If to enumerate a few of these dainties,* be a strong encourage- ment to luxury, how much more, to create them all, and clothe them with .such invit- ing properties, and recommend them by such delicate attractives ? But " the men- tioning them in such a manner." What ! Is this an encouragement to sensuality ? To mention them as so many instances of di- vine beneficence, and so many motives to human gratitude ? This, methinks, is the way to prevent the abuse of our animal en- joyments, and to correct their pernicious tendency. This is the way to endear their adorable Giver, and render them incentives to love. And the love of God is a better guard against luxury, a better preservative from sensuality, than all the rigid rules of the cloister or monastery. Upon the whole, however well affected Mr. Wesley may be to our civil, he seems to be a kind of malecontent with regard to our spiritual liberties — those, I mean, which are consigned over to us in the Magna Charta of the gospel. We have liberty, through Jesus Christ, to use not one only, but every creature of God ; and to use them in a sanctified man- ner, so that they shall not sensualize our affections, but refine and exalt them, by knitting our hearts more inseparably to their munificent Creator. According to that clause in the heavenly deed, " All things * The Scripture calls them royal dainties. Gen. xlix. 20. REV. MR. WESLEY This you would curtail and 557 6re yours diminish. We have liberty to look upon ourselves as justified before God, without any works of our own ; made perfectly righteous in his sight, without any personal obedience whatever ; entirely through our Represen- tative and Surety, what he has suffered in our name and in our stead ; according to those gracious declarations, " In the Lord have 1 righteousness," and, " By the obe- dience of one shall many be made righte- ous." This you would supersede and abo- lish. We have liberty to claim and receive this unspeakable privilege, without performing any conditions, or seeking any prerequisites. Having no other qualification than that of being lost sinners, and needing no other warrant than the divine grant, made and recorded in the word of the gospel. Ac- cording to that most generous invitation, " Come, buy wine and buy milk, without money and without price." According to that most gratuitous concession, " Who- ever will, let him take of the water of life freely." This you would clog and embar- rass. We have liberty, through our Lord's atonement, to look upon ourselves as made free from all guilt ; to consider our sins as absolutely blotted out, never to appear again, either to our utter condemnation or to our least confusion. The three first articles of the charge, I think, are made clear, too clear and undenia- ble, in the course of the preceding letters. Should you challenge me to prove the last, 1 refer you to your assize sermon. There you tell us, that the sins of true believers, as well as of unbelievers, will be brought to lighr, and exposed before the whole world, at the day of universal judgment. Here 1 must do you the justice to ac- knowledge, that you have !iot, as in your epistolary animadversions on Aspasio, re- quired your audience to assent, merely be- cause you affirm. You attempt to establish your opinion by the authority of Solomon, " God shall bring every work into judg- ment, with every secret thing, whether it be good, or whether it be evil." But you seem to forget, that the sins of the believer are to. f^v ovt«, — Things that are not. " Christ has blotted out, as a thick cloud, our transgressions ; yea, as a thin cloud, our sins," Isa. xliv. 22. Consider them as moral stains, or causes of defilement ; they are washed away by the blood of Jesus ; and surely the blood of God must have as powerful an effect on our souls, as the wa- ters of Jordan had upon Naanian's body, 2 Kings V. 14. Consider them as contract- ing guilt, or deserving punishment ; they are vacated, they are disannulled, and, like the scape- goat, dismissed into the pathless in- accessible wilderness ; " when sought for, they shall not be found." Consider them in either of these respects, or under any other character, and they are not only cov- ered or secreted, but abolished ; just as the darkness of the night is abolished by the splendour of the clear, serene, delightful morning. Bring to our sight, if you can, the mill- stone that is cast into the depths of the sea ; restore to its former consistence the cloud that is dissolved in rain ; or find one dreg of filthiness in the new. fallen snow. Then may those iniquities be brought again into notice, which have been done away by the High-priest of our profession ; which have been expiated by the perfect, most ef- fectual, and glorious oblation of himself. His people, when rising from the bed of death, will " have no more conscience of sin" in themselves: They are fully and for ever free from the accusation of others : So free, that sin siiall not so much as be men- tioned unto them ; no, nor even remember- ed by the Lord their God any more. They are made holy, unblamable, and unreprova- ble in his sight. And they shall be pre- sented at the great day, without spot, or wrinkle, or any such thing. Thus may we, and thus may our readers be presented ! So shall we meet each other with comfort at the awful tribunal ; with joy amidst the angels of light, and with everlasting transport around the throne of the Lamb. To promote this blessed event is the sole aim of these remonstrances, and the unfeigned desire of, Reverend Sir, your, &c. LETTER XL Reverend Sir, — My last concluded «ith a sketch of our Christian liberty, ex- tracted from the charter of the gospel. W^e have liberty to use all the creatures ; and, in a sanctified manner, to consider ourselves as made perfectly righteous through the obedience of Christ ; to receive this grand prerogative without performing any condi- tions ; to look upon all our sins as totally and finally done away, through the blood of Jesus. Perhaps you will ask, Where is your li- berty from the power of sin ? Does not this come within the extent of your charter? Most certainly. You injure our doctrine, if you deny it. We are undone irreparably, if we continue destitute of it. Every other immunity, without this crowning privilege, would be like the magnificent palace and the beautiful gardens of Pharaoh while 558 LETTERS TO THE swarms of locusts filled them with their loathed intrusion. But observe, Sir, freedom from the do- minion of sin, is the result of all the pre- ceding blessings. By revealing these in our hearts, and Christ the author of them, the Holy Spirit acts as the Spirit of liberty. You are a philospher ; you understand the theory of light. From the association of various rays, or the mixture of many parent colours, springs that first of elements, and best of material gifts, liyht. So from the union and united enjoyment of all those heavenly treasures, springs that most de- sirable liberty, the " liberty of righteous- ness." This is that truth which makes us free ; this is that knowledge by which we are renewed after the image of him that created us ; and these are the exceeding precious promises by which we are partak- ers of the divine nature. Hence we are taught to love the Lord our God, and to delight in his adorable perfections. By this means they look with a smiling aspect upon us, and are unspeakably amiable to us. Un- der such views, we say of sin, we say of all our evil and corrupt affections, " Do not I hate them, O Lord, that hate thee ? And am I not grieved with those that rise up against thee? I hate them with a perfect hatred -. I count them mine enemies." " Our Saviour's obedience." This phrase disgusts Mr. Wesley. Therefore he cries, " O say with the good old Puritans, our Saviour's death and meiits." Aspasio speaks with St. Paul, " By the obedience of one." He speaks with St. Peter, "Faith in the righteousness of our God and Savi- our." He speaks with the prophets Isaiah and Jeremiah, " In the Lord have I righte- ousness ;" aTid, " Jehovah is our righteous- ness." Having these precedents, he need not be very solicitous who else is for him, or who is against him. Though not very solicitous about this matter, he is somewhat surprised at your vehement address ; that you should exhort bim so earnestly to " speak with the good old Puritans." Has not your printer com- mitted a mistake ? Did not the clause stand thus in your manuscript ? " With my good friends the Arminians." They indeed dis- approve this expression, because it is, when rightly understood, a dagger in the heart of their cause ; but as to the Puritans, they are, one and all, on the contrary side : their language is in perfect unison with Aspa- sio's ; they glory in the meritorious obedi- ence of their great Mediator ; they extol his imputed righteousness in almost every page, and pour contempt upon all other works compared with their Lord's. What will not an author affirm, who ventures to affirm or insinuate, that the Puritan writers disuse this manner of speaking i For my part, I know not any set of writers in the worid so eminently remarkable for this very doctrine, and this very diction. I said, in a former letter, we would inquire into this particular ; but the inquiry is quite unnecessary. It would be like Uriel's searching for the sun, while he stands in its orb, and is surround- ed with its lustre. " We swarm with Antinomians." And we must swarm with persons whose hearts are enmity against the law of God, so long as your tenets find acceptance. Who cuii deh'ght in a law, which neither has been nor can be fulfilled by them ; which bears wit- ness against them, and is the ministration of death unto them ; testitying, like the hand-writing on Belshazzar's wall, " Thou art weighed in the balances, and found want- ing?" Whereas, when we see it fully satis- fied on our behalf, by our Surety's obedi- ence ; no longer denouncing a curse, but pronouncir.g us blessed ; not pursuing us, like the avenger of blood, but opening a city of refuge for the safety of our souls : we shall then be reconciled to its constitu- tion and design ; we shall then take plea- sure in its precepts and prohibitions ; we shall say with the Psalmist, " Lord, what love have I unto thy law ! All the day long is my study in it." " My mouth shall shew forth thy righte- ousness and thy salvation." — " Thy mercy which brings my salvation," says Mr. W^es- ley, in opposition to the sense assigned by Aspasio : Which sense has been vindicat- ed already. I shall therefore not renew my arguments, but only express my wonder. As Mr. Wesley is a minister of the gos- pel, I wonder that he should studiously set aside what is the peculiarity and glory ot the evangelical revelation. " Mercy whii h brings salvation," is what an unenlightened Jew might have preached : nay, what a more ignorant Heathen might have taught ; but salvation through a divine righteous- ness, as the adequate and meritorious cause thereof, is tlie distinguishing doctrine, and the sovereign excellency, of the gospel. As Mr. Wesley is a sinner, I wonder he should choose to weaken the foundation of his own and our hope. Why mercy alone ? Is it not better to put our trust in mercy, erecting its throne on a propitiation, and thence holding forth the golden sceptre ? By the obedience of Immanuel, the law is satisfied as to its 'penalty, is fulfilled as to its precept, and is in every respect unspeak- ably magnified. This shews us the inex- haustible fountain of mercy unsealed, and every obstruction to its free and copious flow removed. As Mr. Wesley is zealous for the hon- our of God, I wonder he should not pre- fer that method of salvation, by which every di\dne attribute is most abundaiuly REV. MR. WESLEY. 559 glorified. Tliis is not done by expecting ))ar(lon and acceptance from mercy alone ; but by expecting and receiving tliem tbrongh our Redeemer's "righteousness and blood. Then we have a display, not only o(" iniin- ite love, but of inflexible justice, and incom- prehensible ^visdom. Here they mingle their beams, and shine forth witli united and eternal sjilendour. Considering these things, I am still in- clined to embrace Aspasio's interpretation of this, and such like ))assages of Scrip- ture, wherein salvation is aseril)ed to divine mercy exercised through the obedience and deatli of Christ ; which gives as great a heightening to the blessing, as the atmos- phere gives to the rays of light, or as the light itself imparts to the scenes of creation. " Those divine treasures which spring from the imputation of Christ's righteous- ness." " Not a ^Yord of his atoning blood." I wish you would turn back to As- pasio's definition of this phrase, as it is laid down at the beginning of the confer- ence, to be the groundworlc of all the dia- logues and of all the letters. You will then perceive that there is not a word of this kind but Christ's atoning blood is in- cluded in it. Witliout this, his righteous- ness had not been perfect. "Without this, his righteousness could not be imputed. Some people have a treacherous memory, and really forget things : Others have a perverse mind, and resolve not to regard them. Which of these is Mr. Wesley's case, I presume not to say ; let his own conscience determine. It is true, " we love to speak of the righteousness of Christ." Yet not because " it aff'ords a fairer excuse for our own un- righteousness." For indeed it affords no excuse at all : On the contrary, it renders unrighteousness quite inexcusable ; because it yields new and nobler motives to all holy obedience. But we love to speak of the righteousness of Christ, because it is the most comprehensive exjiression, and the grandest theme in the world. The moi;t comprehensive expression ; as it denotes all that he has done and suffered, both his me- ritorious life and his atoning blood. The grandest theme : Consider ail those blessings which have been vouchsafed to God's peo- ple, before our Saviour appeared on earth ; add all the biessfngs which will be vouch- safed, until the consummation of all things : Consider all that good which is comprised in a deliverance from the nethermost hell ; together with all that bliss which is con- tained in the pleasures and glories of the heavenly state : All these to be enjoyed through a boundless eternity — and by mul- titudes of redeemed sinners, numberless as tlie sands upon the sea-shore. Then ask, what is the procuring cause of all? Whence do these inestimable benefits proceed.-' From the righteousness, the sole righteousness of Jesus Christ. Is it not then worthy to In; uppermost in our thoughts, and foremost on our tongues ? Might not the very stones cry out, and reproach our insensibility, if we did not love to talk of this divinely gracious righteousness ? Faith is a persuasion, that Christ has shed his blood /or me, and fulfilled all right- eousness in mil stead. " 1 can by no means subscribe to this definition." You might very safely subscribe to this definition, if you would suffer St. Peter to speak his genuine sentiments. Describing the faith of the primitive Christian, he calls it lliut £v iiKaio(rvM7t. — Faith in the righteousness. He says nothing of the atoning blood : Rut does be therefore exclude it? He speaks of nothing but the justifying righteousness : And will you totally discard it ? It is the central point in his faith, and shall it have no place in yours ? Righteousness, he assures us, was the object of the believer's faith, even the righteousness " of our God and Saviour Jesus Christ." But how coiilil this be the object of their faith, if it was not fulfilled in their stead ? Or how could they truly believe in this righteousness, if they did not regard it as performed for them, and imputed to them ? " There are hundreds, yea thousands, of true believers, x'l ho never once thought, one way or the other, of Christ's fulfilling ail righteousness in their stead." Then their faith is like the sight of the person who saw men as trees walking. He saw them, indeed, but very dimly, indistinctly, con- fusedly. And it is pity but they were more thoroughly instructed unto the kingdom of God. Not one of those thousands, pro- vided he fixes his hope wholly upon the merits of Christ, would reject this deliglu- ful truth, if it was offered with scriptural evidence to his understanding. Reject it ! No, surely. He would joyfully embrace it, if offered, with that single but undeniable evidence, " Christ was made sin for us, though he knew no sin, that we might be made the righteousness of God in him." " You personally know many, who to this hour have no idea of Christ's righteous- ness." Surely, then, it behoves you, as a lover of souls, and as an ambassador of Christ, to teach them the way of God more perfectly. So doing, you will be employed much more suitably to your function, and much more profitably to your brethren, than in your present attempt ; by which you would weaken the hands, and defeat the designs, of those who endeavour to spread abroad the savour of this knowledge in every place ; and who, notwithstanding all that you personally know, must unalterably persist in their method ; which is, to regu- 5G0 LETTERS TO THE late their definition of faith, not by the state of your supposed believers, but by the ex- press declaration of the unerring word. And from this they have authority to main- tain, that faith in the imputed righteousness of Christ is a fundamental principle to every believer who understands upon what found- ation he is saved. These your acquaintance, though they have no idea of Christ's righteousness, yet " have each of them a divine evidence and conviction, — Christ loved me, and gave himself for me." In this case, do not you take rather too much upon you ? Have you then the apostolical giftof discerning spirits? If not, it will be impossible for you to know the man, exclusive of yourself, who is cer- tainly possessed of this divine evidence. You may form a charitable judgment or a prevailing hope ; which seems to be the utmost you can warrantably claim with regard to others. And while you entertam this hope, we shall allow it to indicate the be- nevolence of your heart, but catmot admit it as a proof of your point, " That people may be full of faith and love, yet have no idea of Christ's righteousness." We would also caution you to take heed, lest, through an immoderate fondness for increasing the number of your converts, you are led to deceive yourself and others ; registering those as real believers, whom the Lord hath not registered. By this means, you may be confirmed in your unscriptural notion, that the righteous fall away and the faithful apostatize : whereas, they who fall away were righteous only in appearance, and they who apostatize were no otherwise than pro- fessionally faithful. What you see drop from the sky is not a star, but a meteor only. Faith is the hand which receives all that is laid up in Christ. Aspasio expresses himself thus : " Christ is a storehouse of all good." Whatever is necessary to re- move our guilt, whatever is expedient for renewing our nature, whatever is proper to fit us for the eternal fruition of God — all this is laid up in Christ ; and all this is re- ceived by faith, for our application, use, and enjoyment. To this Mr. Wesley subjoins a word of objection, but not in due season. Aspasio is displaying the efficacy of faith ; Mr. Wesley's argument is levelled against the indefectibility of faith. However, as it is your favourite objection, it shall not be treated as an intruder. " If we make ship- wreck of the faith, how much soever is laid up in Christ, from that hour we receive no- thing." Have you never heard of the answer which the Spartan states returned to an in- solent and barbarous embassy from Philij) of Macedon ? You may read it in the book you are censuring, and may receive it as a reply to this and your other surmises of this nature. It was all comprised in that single monosyllable if. A mere professor may make shipwreck of the doctrine of faith ; a true believer does not make shipwreck of the grace of faith : No, nor ever will, un- less Christ's intercession be made of none ef- fect, " I have prayed, that such faith fail not." Aspasio, describing the dreadful nature of the command given to Abraham, says, " Thy hands must lift the deadly weapon ; thy hands must point it to the beloved breast ; thy own hands must urge its way through the gushing veins and the shivering flesh, till it be plunged in the throbbing heart." — " Are not these descriptions far too strong?" This is submitted to the judgment of the reader. I would only ob- serve, that the niorestrongly the horrors of the tremendous deed are represented, the more striking will the difficulty of the duty appear ; consequently, the more efficacious and tri- umphant the power of faith. " May not these descriptions occasion unprofitable rea- sonings in many readers ?" VVhat unprofit- able reasonings may be occasioned, I do not pretend to guess ; but the just and natural reflection arising from the consideration of such a circumstance is, " What has faith wrought? It purifies and exalts the aflec- tions ; it invigorates and ennobles the soul ; makes it bold to undertake, and strong to execute, every great and heroic work: I see, therefore, it is not in vain that the Scripture so frequently inculcates faith, lays so re- markable a stress upon faith, and places it in the very front of all Christian duties." " This is the victory that overcometh the world," o\'ercometh self, overcometh all things. " How could he (Abraham) justify it to the world? Not at all." True; not to the unbelieving world. They will argue, as Mr. Wesley on another occasion : " What ! stab his son, his best beloved, his only son, to the heart? Could the God of goodness command such a piece of barbarity ? Im- possible ! I could sooner be a Deist, yea, an Athiest, than I could believe this. It is less absurd to deny the very being of a God, than to make him an almighty tyrant." But to the believing world, who fear the Lord, and hearken to the voice of his servants, Abraham's conduct will never stand in need of a vindication. By them it will be high- ly extolled, and greatly admired. It will be an undeniable demonstration of the rea- lity and sincerity of his faith, of its very su- perior elevation and invincible strength. " You take the direct and certain way to obtain substantial comfort. The righteous- ness of our Lord Jesus Christ, after which you inquire, about which you are solicitous, is a never-failing source of consolation." Thus Aspasio writes to Theron. " What \ without the atonement?" cries Mr. Wes- REV. MR. WESLEY. 501 \ey. To which he adds, in a following par- agraph, " So the death of Christ is not so much as named." This puts me in mind of an objection, no very formidable one, made against that introductory exhortation to the Common Prayer, " Dearly beloved bre- thren." So, then, said a candid examiner, women have no part in your worship ; they are not so much as named. But I forbear. If you are not ashamed of repeating, I am ashamed of refuting, so frequently refuting, such an empty cavil ; and I believe the reader is tired with us both. I have no great objection to your altera- tion of Aspasio's comment. Suppose we compromise matters, and consider the oil poured on Aaron's head, and emptying it- self from Zechariah's olive-tree, as typical both of the merits and the Spirit of Christ ; which, like light and heat in the sun, are indissolubly connected ; or, to make use of a sacred illustration, are like the living creatures and the wheels in Ezekiel's vi- sion : " When the living creatures went, the wheels went by them ; when the living creatures were lift up from the earth, the wheels were lift up." Whither soever the former were to go, the latter went also. For the sake of obliging Mr. Wesley, I call this a compromise. But if he can prevail on himself to read the paraphrase on the two passages without prepossession, he will find this association of senses anticipated by Aspasio. " Has the law any demand ?" says Aspa- sio : " It must go to Christ for satisfac- tion." From which you draw this injur- ious consequence, " Then I am not obliged to love my neighbour : Christ has satisfied the demand of the law for me." This ob- jection has already received an answer. I shall therefore content myself with shewing why I call your conclusion injur- ious ; because, like the deaf adder, it stop- peth the ear against my own explication of my own phrase. A note is added, on pur- pose to limit its sense, and obviate your misrepresentation. This you totally disre- gard, and argue as if no such precaution was used. The note informs you, that the law, the commanding law, is satisfied with no- thing less than perfect obedience ; and the broken law insists upon condign punish- ment. Now, if it must not, for satisfaction to both these demands, go to Christ our di- vine husband, where will it obtain any such thing ? Who is able to give it among all the children of Adam ? However, lest we offend, needlessly of- fend any reader, I promise, that in case the providence of God, aiid the favour of the public, call for a new edition, Aspasio shall alter his language. Thus the paragraph shall stand : " Does the law demand perfect purity of nature, and perfect obedience of life ? It must go to him for satisfaction. Do we M'ant grace, and glory, and every good gift? We may look to him for a sup- ply ; to him, in whom it hath pleased the Father, that all fulness should dwell." " P"or all his people." With this phrase Mr. Wesley is chagi-ined. This he will not suffer to pass without animadversion; though he must know, if prejudice has not blinded his understanding, that it is pure Scripture. Why does he not shew the same dissatisfaction with the angel that ap- peared unto Joseph, and with Zechariah, the Baptist's father ? The former of whom says, " He shall save his people from their sins." The latter declares, " He shall give knowledge of salvation unto his people, by the remission of their sins." Why does he not put the same question unto them, and draw the same inference upon them ? " But what becomes of all other people ?" Some- times Mr. Wesley is so attached to the Scriptures, that nothing will please him but scriptural expressions. Here he is so wed- ded to self-opinion, that even scriptural ex- pressions will not pass current, when they seem to thwart his own notions. " For all his people." — From this ex- pression, though used by a prophet, author- ized by an angel, and to be found in many places of Scripture, Mr. Wesley deduces some very offensive and dreadful conse- quences ; so dreadful, that he " wo«ld sooner be a Turk, a Deist, yea an Athiest, than he could believe them." My dear Sir, let me give you a word of friendly advice, before you turn Turk, or Deist, or Athiest: See that you first become an honest man. They v^^ll all disown you, if you go over to their party destitute of common honesty. Methinks I hear you saying, with some emotion. What do you mean by this advice ? or what relation has this to the subject of our present inquiry ? — A pretty near rela- tion. Out of zeal to demolish the doctrine of election, you scruple not to overleap the bounds of integrity and tnith Mysterious still ! I know not what you aim at. — Then be pleased to review a passage in j'our book on Original Sin ; where you have thought proper to make a quotation from my Dia- logues. It relates to that great doctiine of the gospel, Christ becoming the representa- tive and federal head of sinners. Ujton this occasion Aspasio says, " As Adam was a public person, and acted in the stead of all mankind, so Christ was a public person, and acted in behalf of all his people. As Adam was the first general representative of this kind, Christ was the second and last." Here you substitute the word nmnJdnd instead of this kind ; and thereby lead the reader to suppose, that Aspasio considers oiu- glori- ous Representative as standing in this ca- pacity to the whole human race j than 2o 562 LETTERS fO THE which nothing can be more injurious to the sense of his words. I at first thought it might possibly be the effect of inadvertency ; but could a person of Mr. Wesley's discernment allow himself to nod over a passage, which he knew to be of a critical and controverted import ? Per- haps it might be the printer's fault, an error of the press. I would willingly have ad- mitted one of these extenuating circum- stances, till I came to the bottom of the page ; where, to my great astonishment, I found the following words, enclosed within the marks of the same quotation, and as- cribed to Aspasio : " All these expressions demonstrate, that Adam (as well as Christ) was a representative of all mankind." Then I could no longer forbear crying out, " There is treachery, O Ahaziah !" A false quotation, not made only, but repeated, cannot be owing to negligence, but must proceed from design ; and this, I should think, can never be defended, no, nor with a good grace excused, by Mr. Wesley's most devoted admirers. A studious alteration of our words, and an evident perversion of their meaning, are defensible by no arguments, are excusable on no occasion. " Quite inexcusable this practice." And is not your language equally offensive ? Is not your conclusion very precipitate, when you suppose Aspasio, though using the words of Scripture, yet representing God as " an almighty tyrant ?" Surely you had better forbear such horrid and shocking ex- pressions ; especially as you cannot deny, that many passages in Scripture seem at least to countenance this obnoxious tenet ; as you very well know, that many persons eminent for their learning, and exemplary in their lives, have written in defence of it, and bled for the confirmation of it ; — as we have proofs more than a fevi^, that you are far from being infallible in your judgment, yea, far from being invariable in your opi- nion— witness your former notions of ma- trimony— witness the character you former- ly gave of the Moravian Brethren, and the esteem which you once had for the mystics and their writings. Considering yourself, therefore, it would better become you to be diffident on such a subject, and say, " That which I know not, Lord, teach thou me." And I imagine it can never become you, on any subject whatever, to break out into such language as ought not to be named among Christians ; ought to have no place but in the bottomless pit This is an admointion, which, while I suggest to you. Sir, I charge on myself. The three following paragraphs relate to a doctrine, which you are fond to attack, and which Aspasio studiously declines. It constitutes no-part of his plan. It forms not so much as the outworks. Be it de- molished or established, the grand privilege, and the invaluable blessing of justification through the righteousness of Christ, remains unshaken, stands immovable. In applying this to ourselves, we proceed neither upon universal nor particular redemption, but on- ly upon the divine grant and the divine in- vitation. We assure ourselves of present and eternal salvation through this perfect righteousness, not as persons elected, but as persons warranted by the word of God, bound by the command of God, and led by the Spirit of God. Therefore, while you are encountering this doctrine, I would be looking unto Jesus ; be viewing the glory of my Lord ; contemplating his perfection, and my own completeness in him. If I divert, for a moment, from this de- lightful object, it is only to touch upon one of your remonstrances. You suppose, that according to the Calvinistic scheme, God denies what is necessary for present com- fort and final acceptance, even to some who sincerely seek it. This is contrary to Scripture, and no less contrary to the doc- trine of your opponents. However, to con- firm yourself in this misapprehension, you ask, " Would you deny it to any, if it were in your power ?" To shew the error of such a sentiment, and the fallacy of such reasoning, I shall just mention a recent melancholy fact. News is brought, that the Prince George man-of-war. Admiral Broderick's own ship, is burnt, and sunk, and above four hundred souls that were on board are per- ished. Six hours the flames prevailed, while every means was used to preserve the ship and crew ; but all to no pur- pose. In the mean time, shrieks and groans, bitter moanings, and piercing cries, were heard from every quarter. Raving, despair, and even madness, presented them- selves in a variety of forms. Some ran to and fro, distracted with terror, not knowing what they did, or what they should do. Others jumped overboard from all parts ; and to avoid the pursuit of one death, leap- ed into the jaws of another. Those un- happy wretches who could not swim were obliged to remain upon the wreck, though flakes of fire fell on their bodies. Soon the masts went away, and killed numbers. Those who were not killed, thought them- selves happy to get upon the floating tim- ber. Nor yet were they safe ; for, the fire having communicated itself to the guns, which were loaded and shotted, they swept multitudes from this their last refuge. What say you. Sir, to this dismal narrative ? Does not your heart bleed ? Would you have stood by, and denied your succour, if it had been in your power to help ? Would not you have done your utmost to prevent the fatal catastroj)he ? Yet the Lord saw REV. MR. WESLEY. 563 tliis extreme distress. He heard their pit- eous moans. He was able to save them, yet withdrew his assistance. Now, because you would gladly have succoured them if you could, and God Almighty could, but would not send them aid ; will you there- fore conclude, that you are above your Lord, and that your loving-kindness is greater than his ? I will not offer to charge any such 'consequence upon you. I am persuaded you abhor the thought. " The wedding garment here means ho- liness." Thus saying, you depart from Bengelius, for whom you profess so high a regard. Bengelius overlooks your exposi- tion, and gives his vote for Aspasio's hcBc vestis estjustitia Christi. Awed by so ven- erable an authority, you have not ventured to exclude this sense from your comment. You have admitted it into your Expository Notes, yet \n\\ not allow Aspasio to admit it into his discourse with Theron. These are your words ; " The wedding garment, that is, the righteousness of Christ, first imputed, then implanted." Which, by the way, is not perfectly accurate, nor accord- ing to the language of the gospel. The gospel distinguishes between the righteous- ness of Christ, and our o%vn righteousness. That which is imputed, goes under the for- mer, that which is implanted, under the lat- ter denomination. However, let us consider the circum- stances of the case, and we shall find, that our common favourite Bengelius has pro- bability and reason on his side. The guests mentioned in this parable consisted of poor outcasts, collected from the highways and hedges. Now we cannot suppose, that people in such a condition, and coming at a minute's warning, should be able to furnish themselves with a dress of their own suita- ble to the grand occasion. Here then per- sonal holiness is put out of the question. But we must suppose, (wliich is conforma- ble to the eastern customs), that the king had ordered his servants to accommodate each guest from the royal wardrobe ; that each might have this additional token of his sovereign's favom', and all might be arrayed in a manner becoming the magnificent so- lemnity. This exactly corresponds with the nature of imputed righteousness. Farther, the banquet, you will readily al- low, is the pardon of sin, and peace with God, the divine Spirit, and eternal life. From all which uniting their happy influ- ence, true holiness springs. To say that holiness is therwedding garment necessary for our introduction to this banquet, savours of absurdity ; like saying, holiness is neces- sary to holiness. It is absolute legality ; for it makes the performance of all duties the way to the Redeemer's grace : It im- plies an absolute impossibility ; the sinner that can exercise holiness before he receives Christ and his Spirit, is like the dead man who arises and walks before he is restored to life. The grand end which God proposes in all his favourable dispensations to fallen man, is to demonstrate the sovereignty of his grace. " Not so." Do you mean, As- pasio has not spoken so ? that you have misrepresented his sense ? have clipped and disfigured his coin ? If this is your mean- ing, you speak an undoubted truth. His words are, " To demonstrate the sovereign- ty, and advance the glory of his grace." Why did you suppress the last clause ? Was you afraid it would supply the deficiency which you charge on Aspasio, and express the idea of imparting happiness ? If so, your fears are just enough. Why did you not take into consideration those texts of Scripture \vith which Aspasio confirms his tenet ? Ought you not to have overthrown those testimonies before you deny his doc- trine? otherwise you oppose your own au- thority to the decision of a prophet and of an apostle. " Not so," proceeds Mr. Wesley : " To impart happiness to his creatures is his grand end herein." The devout prophet speaks othenvise, " I have created him for my Iglory." The wise moralist speaks otherwise, " The Lord hath created all things for himself." The holy apostle speaks otherwise, " To the praise of the glory of his grace." From which, and from innumerable other places of Scripture ; from the reason of the thing, and from the very nature of the Supreme Being, it appears, that the primary leading aim, in all God's works, and all God's dispensations, is his own glory. The felicity of his creatures, though not separated from it, though evi- dently included in it, is still subordinate to it. And surely it is very meet and right so to be. Can there be a nobler end, or more worthy of an infinitely wise agent, than the display of those sublime perfections, for which, and through which, and to which, are all things ? Could God make any other being the principal end of his acting, he would undeify himself, and give his glory to another. Does any creature imagine his own happiness to be a higher end than the divine glory ? He thereby usurps the God- head, making, as far as in him lies, Jehovah the subject and himself the sovereign. " Barely to demonstrate his sovereignty." The word barely is not used by Aspasio. But it gives another specimen of Mr. Wes- ley's integrity in stating truth, and doing justice to his opponents. It is not said, the sole, but the grand end. Therefore, would any unprejudiced person conclude, there must be some other, though interior purpose. " No," says Mr. Wesley ; " hence I infer. 564 LETTERS TO THE that it was barely to demonstrate liis sove- reignty." Do you so ? Then your inference is of a piece with the quotation — that as valid as this is faithful. " Barely to demonstrate his sovereignty," is a principle of action fit for the great Turk, not for the most high God. Such a fraudulent quotation I have not often seen, no, not in the critical reviewers. To mark the sentence with commas, and thereby as- sign it to Aspasio, is really a masterpiece, especially after you have thrust in the word barely, and lopped oiF the word grace. You have treated the passage worse than Nahash, king of Ammon, treated the ambassadors of David. They were ashamed to show their faces, under such marks of abuse and dis- grace. I am no less ashamed of the clause, as you have mangled and disguised it : But restore it to its true state ; let it wear its native aspect ; then see what is blamable, or what is offensive in it. The grand end which God proposes in all his favourable dispensations to fallen man, is, to demonstrate the sovereignty, and advance the glory of his grace. The glory, that it may appear rich, unbounded, and in- finitely surpassing all we can wish or ima- giiie- The sovereignty, that it may appear free, undeserved, and absolutely independent on any goodness in the creature. That sinners may receive it, without waiting for any amiable qualities, or performing any recommending conditions. That, when re- ceived, it may stop the mouth of boasting, may cut off all pretensions of personal merit, and teach every tongue to say, " Not unto us, O Lord, not unto us, but unto thy name be the praise." And should we not greatly rejoice in this method of the divine procedure ? that the Lord orders all things relating to our salva- tion, " to the praise of the glory of his grace ?" Can any thing be more honourable to our natiu'e, or more transporting to our souls ? Can any thing so firmly.establish, or so highly exalt our hopes ? Angels, principalities, and powers ! all intellectual creatures, in all ages and all vv'orlds, are to look unto us ; unto us men they are to look, for the most consummate display of God's grace. Our exaltation and felicity are to be the mirror, in which the wondering che- rubim and seraphim will contemplate the superabundant goodness of Jehovah. How great must thac honour and that happiness be, whi(;h are intended to exhibit the fullest, fairest, brightest view of God's infinitely glorious grace ! How sure must that honour and happiness be, which are so intimately connected with the glory of the omnipotent King ! which can no more fail of their ac- complishment, than the amiable attributes of the Godhead can be stripped of their lustre. God is a boundless ocean of good. " Nay, that ocean is far from boundless, if it wholly passes by nine-tenths of mankind." What ! if it had passed by all mankind, as it cer- tainly did all the devils, would it have been the less boundless on that account ? I wish, methinks, you would study the evil of sin more, and not so frequently obtrude uj5ou us a subject, of which neither you nor I seem to be masters. Then we should nei- ther have hard thoughts of God, nor high thoughts of ourselves. " You cannot suppose God would enter into a fresh covenant with an insolvent and attainted creature."* These are Aspasio's words. To which Mr. Wesley replies, " 1 both suppose and know he did." Satis cum imperio. Then be pleased. Sir, to show us where the Almighty entered into a covenant with fallen Adam ; for of him we are speak- ing. Produce the original deed ; at least favour us with a transcript ; and we wll take your word when it is backed with such authority. God made the new covenant with Christ, and charged him with the performance of the conditions. " I deny both these asser- tions." And what is your reason for this denial ? Is it deduced from Scripture ? Nothing like it. Is it founded on the na- ture of things ? No attempt is made to- Avards it. But you yourself affirm, that these " assertions are the central point wherein Calvinism and Antinomianism meet." Or, in other words, they tend to establish what you dislike, and to overtlirow what you have taught. This is all the cause which you assign for your denial. I cannot but wish, that, whenever I engage in con- troversy, my adversary may be furnished with such arguments. You deny the assertions now ; but do not you forget what you allovTcd and maintain- ed a little while ago, when you yourself, adopting a passage from Theron and Aspa- sio, called Christ " a federal head ?" Pray, what is a federal head, but a person with whom a covenant is made in behalf of him- self and others ? Here yoiu" judgment was according to truth. Fit, perfectly fit for such an office is Christ ; whose life is all his own, who is able to merit, and mighty to save. But absolutely unfit for it, uttei.ly incapable of it, is fallen man ; whose life is forfeited, whose moral ability is lost, and whose very nature is enmity against God. " I have made a covenant with my cho- sen ; namely, with Da.vid my ser\-ant." True ; with David as in Christ, or rather as a type of Christ. You cannot be ignor- ant that Christ is called by this very name. * Insolvent and attainted creature, Mr. Wesley has changed into " a rebel." REV. MR. WESLEY. 565- Tlie Lord, speaking by tlie prophet Ezekiel, says, " I will set up one Shepherd over them, and he shall feed them, even my ser- vant David." Was David beloved?* Christ was incomparably more so. Was David God's chosen one ? Christ was so likewise, and in a far sublimer sense, and for infinitely more momentous purposes. Was David God's servant ? So was Jesus Christ; and by his services brought un- speakably greater honour to the Lord his God, than all kings on earth, and all the princes of heaven. Several parts of this psalm must be applied to Christ ; and if se\eral of them must, the principal of them may and ought. " He will wash you in the blood which atones, and invest you with the righteous- ness which justifies." — " Why shoidd you thus put asunder continually what God has joined ?" How difficult is it to please Mr. Wesley ! When Aspasio spoke of Christ's righteousness, without particularly men- tioning his blood, you said it was better to mention them both together ; it behoved us never to name the former without the lat- ter. Yet here, when both are mentioned, and the particular use of each is specified, you complain of his putting asunder what God has joined ; which, in truth, is no dis- joining, but an illustration and amplification of the unsearchable riches of Christ. God himself, at the last day, pronounces them righteous,, because they are interested in the obedience of the Redeemer. " Ra- ther, because they are washed in his blood, and renewed by his Spirit." God will jus- tify them in the last day, in the very same way whereby he justified them in this world ; namely, because they are interested in the obedience of the Redeemer. As for their renewal by the Spirit, though it will then be perfect, yet it will be no cause of their acquittal, but the privilege of those who are acquitted. A proof of this, at least an at- testation of it, the world has received from yom' o^ATi pen : " for neither our own in- ward nor outward lighteousness is the ground of our justification. Holiness of heart, as well as holiness of life, is not the cause, but the effect of it. The sole cause of our acceptance with God is the righte- ousness and death of Christ, who fulfilled God's law, and died in our stead." Excel- lent sentiments ! In these may I ever abide. To these may you also return. The Practical Ijiprovement of the Doctrine of a Sinner's Justification by the I{i(jhte- ousness of Christ, taken from a Utile Piece, entitled, A Discourse upon Justiiication, printed at London in 1740, which Mr. Hervey highly esteemed, and ivarmly recom- mended.— Being no improper Supplement to the Doctrine contained in Theron and Aspasio, and Aspasio Vindicated. 1 . Since the justification of a sinnei- is by the complete obedience of Jesus Christ imputed to him, and received by faith unto such great and glorious effects ; we may hence learn what reason we have to admire that infinity of wisdom which shines forth in the contrivance of this wonder ; and to adore that immensity of gi'ace which is dis- played in this gloiious provision made for the favourites of heaven ! When the be- loved John was favoured with a visionary sight of the woman-bride, the Lamb's wife, as clothed with Christ the sun of righteous- ness, and shining forth in the resplendent rays of her bridegroom's glory, he says he saw a wonder, Rev. xii. L And a wonder it is indeed ; so great, that it calls for the admiration both of men and of angels. This is one of those glorious things that by the gospel is revealed unto us, " which the an- gels desire to look into." I Pet. i. 12. And while sinfid men have the forgiveness of their sins through Christ's blood, and the acceptation of iheir persons in him, " the beloved, according to the riches of" the » Bclovsd.—'Vh.is is the meaning of David's name. Father's grace, " wherein he has abounded towards them in all wisdom and prudence," it becomes them to admire and adore the same, and to cry out with the apostle, " O the depth of the riches, both of the wisdom and knowledge of God ! How unsearchable are his judgments, and his ways past find- ing out !" Eph. i. 6, 7, 8 ; Rom. xi. 33. That the obedience of the Son of God should be made our righteousness, the righ- teousness of a sinner, to his complete justi- fication before God, is such a project of in- finite wisdom, such a provision of infinite grace, for the salvation of God's chosen, that every way becomes the great Jehovah, and will be the endless wonder of men and angels. 2. Since the justification of a sinner is wholly by the righteousness of another, which is a way of life above nature, above being discovered by nature's light, and seen by nature's eye, or discovered by the light of the law, and discerned by natural reason ; we may learn hence what an absolute ne- cessity there is of a supernatural revelation thereof, in order to the soul's receiving of this righteoiisness, and so of the grace of 566 THE DOCTRINE OP justification thereby. This is one of those things that God has prepared for his people, that never entered into the heart of the na- tural man to conceive of, which he has nei- ther known nor can understand ; and there- fore deems it foolishness, or a foolish thing, for any to think they shall be justified by the obedience of Christ, exclusive of all their own works. But the people of God "receive not the ; spirit which is of the world, but the spirit which is of God, that they may know the things which are freely given them of God." And this, of " the free gift of righteousness, is revealed unto" them by his Spirit, though it is one of those "deep things of God" which are hidden from the natural man ; which are impossi- ble to be known by any but heaven-born souls, under a special revelation from above. 1 Cor. ii. 9, &c. 3. Since the justification of a sinner is by the obedience of Christ alone, we may hence learn how greatly important the knowledge thereof is. The knowledge of this righteousness must needs be of the ut- most importance, since ignorance of it, and non-submission to it, [(which always go to- gether,) leave the soul in an unrighteous state, Rom.ix.31, 32, andx.3. All those mi- serable souls who are " ignorant" of Christ's " righteousness, go about to establish their own righteousness ;" and, alas ! " the bed is shorter than that a man can stretch him- self upon it, and the covering narrower than that he can wrap himself in it," Isa. xxviii. 20. There is no true rest for a sin- ner from the works of his own hands ; no co- vering for a naked soul from the fig-leaves of its own righteousness, though ever so artfully sewed together. Our Lord told his disciples, that except their " righteousness did exceed the righteousness of the Scribes and Pharisees, they should in no case enter into the kingdom of heaven," Matth. v, 20. These Scribes and Pharisees were the zealous, the religious men of that age ; the strict observers of' Moses' law, that trusted in themselves that they were right eous by their own legal performances, and thought to get to heaven by means thereof. But our Lord declares, that none shall ever come there but those who have a better righteousness, a righteousness that exceeds a Pharisaical righteousness, i. e. such a righteousness that every way answers to all the extensive requirements of the law, in heart, lip, and life ; and this is no other than the righteousness of Christ imputed to poor sinners, or made theirs by imputa- tion : in which, being completely^ justified according to law and justice, they, shall, as righteous persons, be admitted into the kingdom of heaven, or into the glory bf,the heavenly state ; while all those who trust in their own righteousness, and think they have done many wonderful works which they dare plead for acceptance with God, shall be sent away from Christ into eternal misery, with a " Depart from me, ye work- ers of iniquity." Matth. vii. 22. And as our Lord, in this his sermon upon the Mount, had been expounding the law of God in its spirituality, as extending to the heart as well as life ; and asserting the necessity of keeping the commandments in the same extensive manner that the law re- quired, in order to make a person righte- ous ; so, in the conclusion thereof, he says, " Therefore, whosoever heareth these say- ings of mine, and doth them, I will liken him unto a wise man, who built his house upon a rock ; and the rain descended, and the floods came, and the winds blew, and beat upon that house ; and it fell not, for it was founded upon a rock," ver. 24, 25. These sayings of our Lord contain the sub- stance of the moral law ; and the doing of them unto righteousness before God, is by believing ; as faith lays hold on Christ, who has obeyed the law perfectly, as the repre- sentative of his people ; on which account they may be said to have done, or fulfilled the law in him, his obedience being imput- ed unto them for their complete justifica- tion before God, as the surety's payment among men is accounted to the debtor, and is the same in the eye of the law, and as effectual for his full discharge, as if he him- self had paid the debt. And he that thus doth the law, or these sayings of Christ, he likens him " unto a wise man, who built his house upon a rock." It is a piece of natural wisdom, to lay a good foundation for a stately structure ; and the most firm that any house can be built on, is that of a rock. And he that is spiritually " wise, wise unto salvation," lays the whole stress of it, and builds all his lioi)e of life, upon Christ, the Rock of ages : in which it ap- pears, that he is wise indeed ; for as, in na- ture, a house that is built upon a rock will stand the storm, so the soul that is built upon" Christ shall never be removed : " The rain may descend, the floods come, and the winds beat;" afflictions, temptations, and trials of all kinds, may beat vehemently against that soul, but shall never distroy its salvation, nor make it ashamed of its hope. No ; Christ, the rock of immutability, will hold it unshaken, in a state of salvation, throuj,'h life, through death, at judgment, and for ever. Such a soul stands as im- movable, in the grace of justification and life, as the rock itself on which it is found- ed. " Because I live," saith our Lord, " ye shall live also," John xiv. 19. Christ's life is the life of that soul, that depends upon him alone for all its justification and eternal salvation. And therefore the wis- dom of faith is gr«it indeed, in that it fore- JUSTIFICATION IMPROVED 567 Sees the storm, and thus provides against it. " But he," Baith our Lord, " that heareth these sayings of mine, and doth them not," (t. e. that heareth the law's requirements, and endeavours to obey the same for righte- ousness before God, and so doth them not, because his obedience cannot come up to that perfection which the law requires), " shall be likened unto a foolish man, which built his house upon the.sand ; and the rain descended, and the floods came, and the winds blew, and beat upon that house ; and it fell, and great was the fall of it," ver. 26, 27. O the folly of that poor sinner, who lays the stress of his salvation, and builds his hope of life, upon his own righteousness ! For this sandy foundation cannot endure the storms of divine wrath which shall be revealed from heaven against all unrighte- ousness of men, nor secure the soul from being driven away by the tempest of God's anger, and the floods of his indignation, into the abyss of eternal misery. The house fell that was thus built upon the sand, " and great was the fall of it !" Oh ! what a mi- serable disappointment will it be to that soul, that " goes down to the chambers of eternal death with this lie of his own righ- teousness in his [right hand ;" from which he had all along hoped for eternal life ! when this " way that seemed right to him in his own eyes," as if it would lead him to ever- lasting life, by his depending thereon, shall end in eternal death ! " The hope of the hypocrite," or of him that trusts in himself that he is righteous by his own external per- formances, when yet his heart is far from that conformity to God which the law re- quires, " shall perish at the giving up of the ghost His hope," i. e. his salvation hoped for, " shall then be cut off. He shall lean upon his house," i. e. his own righteousness, which he had raised up in his imagination, to shelter him from the storm of divine vengeance, " but it shall not stand ; he shall hold it fast, but it shall not endure," Job viii. 13 — 15. Noj this house of his shall be as soon destroyed by the storm of God's indignation, as a spider's web is swept down by the besom that comes against it; and the miserable soul, that trusted herein, shall be driven away into eternal perdition. Thus, an error in the foundation will prove fatal to the building j and therefore the knowledge of Christ, as the alone way of a sirmer's justification and life, must needs be of the highest import- ance ; since no other refuge can stand the storm but Christ, as the Lord our Righte- ousness ; this glorious hiding-place, which God has prepared for poor sinners, whether they may run, and be for ever safe. And as for those who live and die in ignorance of, and non-submission to, the righteousness of Chjist, they will certainly die in their sins, and perish for ever. They will all be found filthy at the day of judgment, that have not been enabled to believe in Christ's blood, for cleansing from all sin ; they will all be found unjust at that awful day, that have not believed the Redeemer's righte- ousness, for their justification before God ; and so must remain for ever : For concern- ing them it will then be said, " He that is filthy, let him be filthy still ; and he that is unjust, let him be unjust still ;" i. e. let him abide so to an endless eternity. But, 4. Since there is but one way for a sin- ner to be justified before God, and that is by the obedience of Christ alone, this in- forms us what great folly "those persons are guilty of, who press poor sinners to obey the law, to make themselves righteous in the sight of God, when there is no law given that can give life unto them ; and how dangerous it is for souls to sit under such a ministry, that naturally misleads them ; since, while " the blind leads the blind, both fall into the ditch." " If there had been a law given that could have given life," says the apostle, " verily righteousness should have been by the law," Gal. iii. 21. But as there is no law given that can give life to a sinner, it is a vain foolish thing to press such a soul to get a righteousness by his own performances, which was never ap- pointed of God, nor can be attained by man. No ; " the Scripture hath concluded all un- der sin, that the promise (of life) by faith of Jesus Christ (as a sinner's righteousness) might be given to them that believe," ver. 22. And those who receive it not in this way shall never attain it in any other, but must go without it for ever. " The labour of the foolish," says the wise man, " wea- rieth every one of them, because he know- eth not how to go to the city." Eccl. x. 15. A man may labour, all his days, to make himself righteous before God by his own performances, and to make his peace with him by his legal repentance and humiliation for sin ; and yet lose all his labour at last, and so weary himself in vain, being never able to reach that city, that eternal rest, which God has prepared for his people ; because he knoweth not Christ, the only way that leads thither, and so walks not by faith in him as such. All men are by na- ture ignorant of Christ's righteousness, as it is God's way of justifying and saving a sinner ; and it is dangerous for souls to sit under such a ministry, that presseth doing, and persuades them their safety lies there, instead of believing. " For how shall they believe," says the apostle, " in him of whom they have not heard ? And how shall they hear without a preacher ? And how shall they preach exce|)t they be sent?" Rom. X 14, 15. How ■hall poor pouls believe in 568 THE DOCTRINE, &c. ChiTst for justification, when they hare never heard of his righteousness, which is the proper object of faith ? And how shall they hear without a preacher of that gospel that declares it ? And how shall they preach the gospel to others, who have never seen that salvation it reveals for sinners, by the righteousness of Christ, themselves ? How sliall they declare the glory and efficacy thereof to others, that have never seen nor experienced it themselves ? And how does it appear that they are sent by Christ to preach the gospel, who neither know nor proclaim his righteousness for the justifica- tion of a sinner, which is such a main doc- trine thereof? Have we not reason to fear, that many of those who are called ministers of the gospel, are rather preachers of Moses than of Christ ? and that their ministry ra- ther tends to lead souls to the bondage and death of the law, than to the liberty and life of the gospel ? But " how beautiful are the feet of fhem that preach the gospel of peace, that bring glad tidings of good things !" That publish that peace with God, which was made for sinners alone by the blood of Christ's cross, and is possessed only by faith in him ! That proclaim the glad tidings of those good things, which God has prepared to be enjoyed by sinners, through the justi- fying righteousness of his Son ! And how great is the privilege of those souls who sit under a gospel ministry ; since this is the means appointed of God to work faith in them, and to bring salvation to them ! Once more, 5. Since the justification of a sinner is by the righteousness of Christ imputed to him, and received by faith alone, we may hence learn, how great the obligation of the justified ones is, to live to the glory of that grace which has so freely and fully justified them, in and through Christ, unto eternal life, by him ! When the apostle had assert- ed the justification and salvation of God's people, both Jevvs and Gentiles, to be wholly of his free mercy, in and through Christ, Rom. xi. 32, and admired the rich- es of his wisdom, which was so brightly displayed in the dispensations of his mercy towards them, ver. 33, he thus concludes his discourse, ver. 36, " For of him, and through him, and to him, are all things ; to whom be glory for ever, amen." It is as if he should say. Since all things, relating to the justification and salvation of God's peo- ple, are of him, and through him, it is meet that the glory of all should, by them, be given to him. And therefore, when he ap- plies this doctrine of God's free mercy in Christ, to them who had obtained it, he thus addresses them, chap. xii. 1. "I beseech you, therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that ye present your bodies a li\ing sacrifice, holy, acceptable unto God, which is your reasonable service." I beseech (you), says he, you that have obtained mercy, (therefore) or since it is God's design to glorify his mercy in the salvation of sinners, that you give him the glory of ic ; (by the mercies of God,) those mercies of God which you are partakers of, in the forgive- ness of all your sins, and in the justification of your persons, (" that ye present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable unto God,") that ye continually offer up yourselves, as a whole burnt-oiTering, in the flames of love, unto him that hath loved you, in all holy and acceptable obedience, to the glory of that God who has thus had mercy upon you ; (" which is your reasoiia- able service.") For it is a most reasonable thing, or a thing for which there is the high- est reason, that you should ever serve the Lord, to the glory of that grace by which you are freely justified, and shall be eter- nally glorified. And thus the apostle Pe- ter, 1 Pet. ii. 9. " But ye are a chosen generation, a royal priesthood," who are washed fi-om all your sins in Christ's blood, and clothed with his righteousness, " an holy nation, a peculiar people ; that ye should show forth the praises of him who hath called you out of darkness into his marvellous light." And, " You know (says the apostle Paul) how we exhorted, and comforted, and charged every one of you, {i. e. of you justified, saved ones), that ye would walk worthy of God, who hath called you unto his kingdom and glory." 1 Thess. ii. 11, 12. And, in short, as it was God's design to get himself glory in the justifica- tion of sinners, by the righteousness of Je-. sus Christ ; so the display thereof, through- out the whole gospel, lays them under the highest obligation to live to his praise. Does God the Father impute the obedience of his Son to poor sinners ? Did God the Son obey in life and in death for them ? and does God the Spirit reveal and apply this righ- teousness to them ; and enable them to re- ceive the same, as a free gift of grace, unto their eternal life in glory ? What thanks, what praise, is due to God, in each of his glorious persons, for this abundant grace ! And let the language of the justified ones, in heart, lip, and life, in all kind of holy obe- dience, both now and always be, " Thanks be unto God for the grace of justification ! for this his unspeakable gift !" 2 Cor. ix. 15. Amen ! Hallelujah ! DEFENCE THERON AND ASPASIO, AGAINST OBJECTIONS CONTAINED IN A LATE TREATISE, ENTITLED LETTERS ON THERON AND ASPASIO TO WHICH IS PREFIXED, A Series of Letters from Mr. He&vey to the Author, authenticating this De- fence with his entire approbation, and manifesting it to be the only one that can be presented to the Public with that authority. PREFACE. The intention of prefixing Mr. Hervey's letters to this reply, is in fact to recommend it to the attention of the public, as such a farther explication and defence of Theron and Aspasio as was quite agreeable to his own judgment ; such as, in substance, would have appeared in the world in his elegant and entertaining manner of address, had it pleased the Sovereign Disposer of all events to have continued him in life, and such as the present situation of his writings re- quire. It has been already remarked, in the public intimation of printing Mr. Hervey's letters, that " when writers of a distinguish- ed superiority have gained our admiration and applause, we are fond of penetrating into their more retired apartments, and as- sociating with them in the sequestered walks of private life." A curiosity of this nature cannot be more usefully gratified ; we catmot be ushered into Mr. Hervey's com- pany to better purpose, than to hear Lim declare what he himself counted most val- uable in all his writings ; that which was his main design, and to which he would have his readers continually advert ; those sentiments which, as he expresses it in one of his letters, " I wish to have written on my heart ; such as I wish to speak and teach while I live; and in my writings, if my writings survive me, to testify when I am dead ;" more especially, if what he so esteemed is the doctrine of our Lord and his apostles ; otherwise Mr. Hervey's es- teem will be but of small account. It seems the more necessary that he should thus be made to speak for himself, since some who have distinguished them- selves as his peculiar friends, and as very angiy with Mr. Sandeman in his behalf, are at the same time very likely to be no friends to his Defence. The reason is, whatever may be the motive for their professed re- gard, they have, for many years past, and do unto this day, manifest great ignorance. .570 TREFACE. if not great enmity, m respect of the prin- ciples which formed and influenced Mr. Hervey's faith and practice, and on which he ventured his eternal concerns : stigma- tizing, or, I should rather say, honouring them with the same kind of reproaches as the ancient opposers of Christianity cast upon our Lord and his disciples. Perhaps it may awaken the attention of some to in- quire of the unerring oracles, What is truth ? when they find by these letters, that there is no dependence to be placed elsewhere ; and that those in whom they have trusted as spiritual guides, applaud or censure with very little judgment, or with a worse de- sign. After all, I am not so sanguine in my expectation, as to think that by this, or any other method, the despised truth of the gos- pel will prevail with many, against the stream of the reputed devout and highly es- teemed of this world. We must remember the treatment which our Lord and his dis- ciples met with ; and as the world is not better now than it was in those days, we have little reason to expect better success. Mr. Hervey began to find he had been in a mistake in this respect, and would have publicly acknowledged as much, had he lived but a few months longer. He began to be acquainted with that true grace of God, which is contrary to the course of this world, in its devoutest form, for upwards of twelve years before our correspondence commenced. He was willing to recom- mend it to their consideration, and, if pos- sible, make it appear lovely to their view. He dressed it up with all the beauties of eloquence, and all the winning arts of per- suasion. He concealed whatever he thought might give his readers disgust, and even entreated his friend to conceal their corres- pondence for the present, lest the power of j)reiudice (raised by his professed friends) should prevent them from looking into his books ; and all this in Lopes to prevail, and give the despised gospel of Jesus a recom- mending appearance in their eyes. But, alas ! he died before he had accomplished this design ; and perhaps, had he lived to the age of Methuselah, he would never have brought it to pass. So that we can only look ui)on this as liis fervent desire, that the important truth in whicli he had found all lie wanted, should be as great a blessing to others, as it had been to him. He gained a return of compliment for his favourable sentiments and kind behaviour, but it was in vain for him to expect to prevail any far- ther. His notion was, as he himself expresses it, that " the taste of the present age is somewhat iik^ the humour of c|iildren; their milk must be sugared, their wine spiced, and thtir necessaiy food garnished with flowers, and enriched with sweetmeats." His desire that what he called his principal point might be, if possible, made thus pa- latable, engaged him in several correspon- dences, suited to the embellishment of his works : his superiority as a writer caused many to covet an acqaintance and friend- ship with him ; and his tender and com- plaisant behaviour, even to those who dif- fered, gave some of them hopes of prevail- ing with him, or by him, to advance their own various and opposite sentiments. Fill- ed with these hopes, their behaviour to- wards him was accordingly respectful ; which, together with his retired situation in life, prevented him,'in a great measure, from dis» cerning their enmity to his principles. Tak ing it for granted they meant as they spake, he judged them aiming to promote the same important cause. Had this been fact, they would have still merited the regard he paid them ; their professed zeal would have been commendable, had it been subservient to the true grace of God for which he pleaded; but bears as different an aspect when their enmity and opposition thereto is discovered, even as Paul's most hardened wickedness was to the piety and zeal of his Pharisaic state. No sooner was he dead, than consulta- tions were on foot, tending to bury his prin- ciples as well as him. His private letters were publicly advertised for, in order to be printed ; which, by the use made of them, seems not done with any design to establish the truths he contended for, but to pick out, if possible, something to their disadvantage; and, what is still more unworthy, to estab- lish their own characters in such attempts, on the encomiums he had at one time or other bestowed on them, for want of see- ing them properly; for want of knowing that their ruling principle was a fixed enmity to that gospel which was his sole delight. Be- sides this, several reports were spread, de- trimental to the important truth he had so contended for : and, knowing that all and every one of them could be fully disproved by Mr. Hervey's own handwriting, I count- ed it my duty to print the defence, and to publish the letters to the author, to authen- ticate it with Mr- Hervey's approbation ; though I was apprehensive, at the same time, it might carry the appearance of os- tentation, to such as did not know vv'hat was in hand, and so could not be sensible that the support of the important truth which shines through all his works depended, in some measure, on the publication of these letters. Notwithstanding all this, the persons con- cerned in the publication of two volumes, under the title of " The Letters of the late Rev. Mr. James Hervey," have exerted themselves, with uncommon boldnesc, in fllEFACE. £71 disfiguring his principles ; and, at the same time, introduce their own. This is evi- dently manifest from several notes annexed to these letters.* In these volumes they have insinuated, that the author of the De- fence of Theron and Aspasio was " on the Antinomian side of the question, and that Mr. Hervey by no means approved of his sentiments." Upon this there immediately appeared in the Gazetteer, Aug. 22, and London Chronicle, Aug. 26, a letter to the editor and publisher of these volumes, sig- nifying the shocking appearance of slander and detraction, in volumes under the name of a man so averse to such proceedings ; and proving, from Mr. Hervey's own words, the most apparent falsehood in their asser- tions ; there being no letter in the whole two volumes so expressive of sameness of sentiment, as the letters to the author of the Defence of Theron and Aspasio, and concluding with these words : " The secret stabs that are given to characters, by modern pretenders to piety, would make a court of justice blush. And I am persuaded the real friends to Mr. Hervey's memory, or writings, will not be pleased to find his name made subservient to such base pur- poses."— The proceedings are a little more open in the GentlemaTi's Magazine for Au- gust ; where we are told, that Mr. Hervey himself "is by no means free of the charge of stretching the principles of Calvin into Antinomianism." It is very evident Mr. Hervey concerned himself with no Calvin- istical or Arminian disputes. In one of his letters, speaking of Mr. Wesley's con- duct, he says, " I am sometimes apprehen- sive that he would draw me into a dispute about particular redemption. I know he can say startling and horrid things on this subject ; and this, perhaps, might be the most effectual method to prejudice people against my principal point." As to the charge of Antinomianism, un- less the particular errors are pointed out, (which may as well be done without the as- sistance of reproachful names,) it is no more than a very vague uncertain sound, made use of by some leaders in the various classes of religious people as a political bugbear, whereby they disguise and disfigure the party they intend to reproach. It is a term not confined to any dictionary interpretation, but admits of a variety of definitions, accord- ing to the various sentiments of the persons who use it, from the most professed preach- ers of Christ, down to the monthly review- ers, who esteem no better of any that con- cern themselves with the name of Jesus, farther than what becomes a decent com- plaisance to the profession of their country. ♦ All these notes are thrown out of this edition of our Author's Works. These gentlemen can read the Bible as well as these volumes, " without the least intel- lectual improvement" in the doctrine of Christ ; and can also give a solid reason for it, viz. that they have no taste for this kind of reading — it is very disagreeable to them. They judge, " that one virtuous design pro- moted, one good action done, or one bad habit subdued, is worth more than all such trifling considerations" as the death and re- surrection of Jesus. The Scripture lan- guage concerning salvation only by Christ, must be Antinomianism in their esteem. They expect to be saved in doing well ; and the Scripture assures them, that " if they do well, they shall be accepted." Our Saviour declares, he never came to interrupt such people in their good intentions ; but to save the lost and worthless, such as ought to perish according to every rule of equity ; and the real gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ will ever prove " foolishness," a " stone of stumbhng," and "rock of offence," to any but these sort of people. Any one who has read the letters on The- ron and Aspasio, or ever seen Mr. Hervey's sentiments of that author, will easily per- ceive that a reply to that performance was absolutely necessary, or else, as he observes in one of his letters, " what is not confuted by argument, is confirmed by silence." It was also necessary, if possible, that this de- fence should be by himself, or by his ap- probation, and also that the public should be ascertained of this, that so it may be considered as a proper and necessary sup- plement to his volumes. As these particu- lars can be so plainly discovered by the let- ters prefixed, it is well that Mr. Hervey was so open in his declarations. As to our debate with Mr. Sandeman, it seems to stand as follows : — The turning-point from despair to good hope, he observes, is the hinge of the con- troversy ; and this point is, with Mr. Sande- man, the finished work of Christ, as it is fully sufficient to vindicate the divine jus- tice in saving the most giulty. All the hope he has by this, is represented by the hope a man has from hearing of the plenti- ful importation of corn in the time of fa- mine, while it yet remains a hazard whether he shall ever obtain any ; and his expecta- tion to obtain, is by labouring and painful desire and fear tiU crowned with enjoy- ment. Aspasio's turning-point is the finished work of Christ revealed in the gracious de- clarations of the gospel, not only as sup- porting the divine justice in saving the most guilty, but also as the sufficient object of the sinner's immediate tiiist and confidence, agreeably to the repeated divine assurances that such shall not be confounded or disap- pointed. And the works and labour of love 572 PREFACE. As])asio pleads for, are works of love to God thus manifested and trusted iii. Aspasio's former opponents have objected to this immediate trust of a sinner upon Christ alone for everlasting life, by pleading for what they have conceived to be previ- ously necessary, under the names of faith, repentance, sanctification begun, &c. Mr. Sandeman has undertaken to prove, that all true sanctification, conversion, faith, &c. springs solely from the truth of Christ's sufficiency for the most guilty, \nthout any addition whatever, as the central point of divine revelation ; and that all other religion is not any part of Christianity, not any part of that doctrine which came from heaven, but only the vain efforts of the natural man to lower the divine character of the infinite- ly righteous and just God, and quiet his guilty conscience with a righteousness insuf- ficient, or in other words, a righteousness stained mth sin ; and that the names of conversion, faith, sanctification, applied to this kind of religion, are only fitted to de- ceive ; and supposing our appropriation or trust to be a denial of this sufficiency of Christ alone, he opposes that also. This, then, is what we are concerned to defend. To this pui-pose I have endeavoured to show, that in trusting to the sufficient righ- teousness of Christ alone for everlasting life, we keep clear of the charge of denying the sufficient righteousness, and of adding or mixing another righteousness with it. We may rather ask, How does it appear that any man believes it to be sufficient, when he dare not trust his soul upon it, but waits, in painful desire and fear, to discover himself possessed of the distinguishing qualities of a believer ? And as he carefully separates what he belieres from all foundation of hope or confidence therein for everlasting life, he appears to us involved in the absurdity of hoping for eternal life by Christ, because he discovers himself without any foundation of hope, either in himself, or in the gospel he believes. He may say, " He trusts to be saved by what Christ has done, if saved at all ;" but that very if signifies, that he does not trust upon what Christ has done, but is wait- ing to discover something else as a more proper ground of his confidence. And what is that something else, but the diflference he discovers betwixt himself and other sinners ? So that, after all our tiourishes against self- dependence and Pharisaic doctrine, if we are not upon our guard, we shall be at last settled on no other foundation. Mr. Sandeman, in endeavouring to prove that his view of the gospel " quiets the guilty conscience of a man as soon as he knows it," acknowledges with us, that the gospel is designed for that end ; but fails in his attempt'to make out that the guilty con- science of that man is quieted, who disco- vers no foundation in what he believes, to trust in Christ's righteousness for everlast- ing life. He supposes, that the uneasiness and dread of conscience arises only from the appearing impossibility of a just God being a Saviour ; from whence he infers, that the revelation of a righteousness remov- ing this seeming impossibility, brings the rest and peace the Scripture speaks of, without revealing any ground for trust and confidence in that righteousness. But this supposition is not true ; few or none are troubled with such apprehensions ; nor does the Scripture address men as though they were. It is self-evident, that the cause of our dread is an apprehension of our want of a righteousness acceptable to the divine purity ; and what relieves must be, our hav- ing such a righteousness, either in ourselves, or by God's free gift. This Mr. Sandeman himself seems to acknowledge, when he talks of " labouring in painful desire and fear," as the effect of his cramped view of the gospel. For why is this the eflfect, but l)e- cause what he believes does not afl^ord the proper satisfaction ? Mr. Sandeman's jealousy is, lest we, h)' pleading thus for a sinner's trust and confi- dence on Christ, should lead man into a self-dependence on his doing something to relieve himself from his dreadful circum- stances, instead of being supported only by what Christ has already done. But how easy is it to perceive, that no man is, or can be, supported by what Christ has already done, but he that discovers it the object ot his trust and confidence for everlasting life ? and that so to depend on Christ, and what he has done, is the very opposite of all self- dependence, and inconsistent with our de- pending on our doing any thing either pre- sent or future ? It is true, a man that is at an entire un- certainty without any dependence whatever, is as clear of self-dependence as he is of dependence on what Christ has done. So a man that neither eats nor drinks, is as much out of danger of dying wiih glut- tony and excess, as he is of being poisoned with unwholesome food. But how long can a man live thus ? And how long can a man support, without having some dependence or other for his soul ? It is as natural for the mind of man to depend on something against the fears of hereafter, as it is for his body to gi'avitate or sink till it meets with a proper support. Hence we find, that those who depend not on the truth, de- pend on some falsehood or other which they suppose to be true ; and when a man is beat off from one false dependence, he is sinking to despair till he finds another, or is reliev- ed by the real truth. And that truth whii-h relieves, must reveal a foundation of de- PREFACE. 573 pendence for everlasting life : to attempt to rest short of this, is to attempt to build a castle in the air. The discovery that " God may, if he pleases, have mercy upon me as I at present stand," although it tends to remove the Pharisaic wish or want to know that I am distinguished from others, yet leaves me unsupported as to original and real dread of conscience arising from my personal deficiency. And as such slight the divine wairant for the siimer's trust and confidence in Christ's sufficient righteous- ness, they naturally sink to the hope of eternal life, not by what Christ has done, or what the gospel declares, but a hope that they are the sheep of Christ who hear his voice, which is in fact only a hope in them- selves. The generality of mankind are but little concerned about the truth of the foundation of their peace of conscience ; so they Lave got some hope, it is enough ; they do not care to be disturbed from it with such a controversy as this ; especially if they can but conceit themselves holy, or feel them- selves happy ; not considering, that if their hope is founded on falsehood, their whole religion is a deceit. But they who are taught of God, are not led by fond conjec- tures ; they will not be satisfied with any other reason of their hope, than the voice of that God who speaks in the conscience ; and Christ, the Saviour of the guilty given to be trusted in, is the only foundation that God has laid in Zion. I have only to add, that the maimer in which the subject is treated, that is, by short remarks on the passages we are concerned %\'ith, was the way in which the subject was treated for Mr. Hervey's view ; and as I could think of no shorter method of de- fence, it is so presented to the public LETTERS FROM MR. HERVEY TO THE AUTHOR. Weston- Fa i^ell, April] 5, 1755. Dear Sir, — Last night I received your kind letter;* and this morning I have but a moment's space in which to acknowledge it. Howevei-, I cannot neglect the first op- portunity. Are you the author that has given us an abridgment of Mr. Marshall ? Tridy, I think you have well bestowed your labour, and well executed your work. I wish you had not given yourself the trouble of sending me the book, because I have it, and highly prize it — the abridgment, I mean. I should be very glad if you would read that Dialogue you meiilion with a critical attention — if you would point out the places where you think I am confused in my ap- prehensions, injudicious in method, or weak * When I perceived, by his first edition of Theron and Aspasio, that lie had so publicly espoused the truths for whicli 1 had incurred the displeasure of many of his professed friends and admirers I wrote liim, signifying my fellowship with him in the de- spised truth. in argument. As yon have so thoroughly studied the point, and so often taught the doctrine, you must easily see where the es- say lies most open to objection, and where the point might receive additional strength. You woidd much oblige me if you woidd do this with the utmost impartiality and freedom ; and I hope you would do service to the truth as it is in Jesus. Several per- sons, I find, are dissatisfied with my opinion on this head. Do, Sir, review Dialogue IG, and favour me with your free remarks and friendly improvements. Whatever of this kind is done, I beg may be done speedily ; because a new edition is in the press, and the printers \vill soon come to that part. When I hear from you again, I will speak my sentiments with relation to your well calculated design of an evangelical library.* ♦ An intended collection of the most evangelical pieces, from the beginning of tlie Reformation down to the present d.-'v. And as nothnig was designed but 574 MR. HERVEY'S LETTERS At present, I liave leifsure only to assure you, that I am, dear Sir, your affectionate friend in Jesus Christ, Jame9 Hervey. April 22. Dear Sir, — I received your present by the coach ; I thank you for it, and am much pleased with it. The doctrine* which you approve in my essay, and have clearly dis- played and fully proved in your own writ- ings, is not relished by every body ; no, not by many pious people. I take the liberty to send you a couple of letters containing objections.-|- I wish you would be so kind as to consider them, and in your concise way, which I much admire, to make yoin- remarks upon them. One of the letters, in case it exactly coincided with my sentiments, I should think too diffuse and prolix. I love to have the force and spirit of a subject contracted into a small compass, and exhi- bited to our minds in one clear and easy view. Long discourses and protracted ar- guments dissipate the attention, and over- whelm the memory. I think you are very happy in expressing yourself with a brevity that is striking, yet perspicuous. I am not shaken in my opinion by these attacks ; but I should be glad to deliver it more clearly, and establish it more firmly, in another edition. If you can spare a little time from your own labours, 1 hope you will gratify me in this request ; and I trust he whom you serve will make it a blessing to me and to others. I would beg of you to return these letters, and if the Lord should enable you, with iiee observations on the most material points, as soon as possible ; because our new edition goes on apace, and wilPsoon come to Dia- logue 16. I have some thoughts of enlarg- ing it a little, and dividing it into two Dia- logues. At present it is rather too long to be read at once. I iieartily wish you success in your pro- jected work. I assure you it is my opinion, that such a work, if well executed, will be one of the most valuable services to the pre- sent age. You will not, I hope, be too hasty. Mr. W has huddled over his performance in a most precipitate, and there- fore most imperfect manner. One would think his aim was, not to select the best and the marrow of each performance, so he judged it might be comprised in six voKimes, and desired that an abridgment of Theron and Aspasio might have a place in one volume of it. * This was a summary of doctrine, extracted from Theron and Aspasio, in Aspatio's own words. t These objectors were adding no revealed truth to our minds, but, on the contrary, were only attempt- ing to overtnrow the solid foundation laid for the hope, confidence, and salvation of guilty sinners ; tliat which makes the gospel glad tidings indeed to tuch. noblest passages, but to reprint those wliich came first to hand. If I live to see another edition of Theron and Aspasio published, I will desire your acceptance of a set, and I hope it will be improved and enriched with your observations ; which will be a favoiu' acknowledged by, dear Sir, your affectionate friend in Jesus Christ, James Hervey. P. S. Pray do not spare my own per- formance, but freely animadvert upon Aspa- sio. I am sensible he sometimes speaks unguardedly, and sometimes seems incon- sistent with himself. Dear Sir, — I received your last valuable letter, and sincerely thank you for the judi- cious observations it contained. Your other letter also, which conveyed an answer to , came safe to hand. How is it, dear Sir, that godly* people are so averse to this doctrine. -f- I have another letter from , con- taining remarks upon, and objections to Mr. Marshall. I would transmit it to you by this conveyance, but I remember you have already work upon your hands. In my next it shall wait upon you. My only aim, I trust, is to find out the truth as it is in Jesus ; which, at present, I am convinced is with you. There is so much clearness and simplicity in your doctrine, it is so suit- able to the goodness of God, and so emi- nently conducive to the comfort, recovery, and happiness of a sinner, that 1 cannot be persuaded to relinquish it. I should be glad to maintain it in a convincing, yet the most inoffensive manner. I propose to al- lot two Dialogues for this very important subject. How, in what form or order, would you advise me to proceed ? Pray do not scruple to express yourself with all pos- sible freedom. Direct and correct as a friend and fellow-labourer,^ &c. 3Iai/ 8. Dear Sir, — Last night I received the fii- vour of your two packets, and I assure you a real favour I esteem them. Your answers * Mr. Hervey here uses the word ^orf/y, in the com- mon signification of it, as distinguishing the religi- ous from those who profess no religion; but, in the Scripture sense of the word, it is confined to those whose religion is formed by the beUef and love of that truth which came from God for the hopeof the guilty. f These godly people he mentions, mistook him continually, by apprehending all he said in the light of the properly qualified faith; whereas his appre- hension was totally in the light of free salvation to the guilty, as the ground of immediate confidence; and as they could make no hesitation about confiding in the Lord, if (as they termed it) their evidences were clear, so he made no hesitation about confiding in the Lord, as a guilty sinner; the divine declarations to the guilty answering to him as the foundation of his confidence, as their evidences would to them, if tlKry could conceive them to be clear. t The remainder of this letter is lost. TO MR. CUDWORTII. are so clear, so consistent, so comfortable, they very much tend to establish my mind. I find by your experience, tlie "account, 1 mean, of God's dealings with your soul," that you have incurred, but s-urely without any just cause, the displeasure of many. Now, as this is the case, my dear Sir, let us act prudently, be wise as serpents. Do not think, I beg of you, that I am ashamed of your friendship. God forbid ! But as I have some concern, and you have a greater zeal for these precious doctrines, let us use the most probable means to spread them. You know the power of prejudice is great; is almost incredible. Many people, were they to know that you and I have been lay- ing our counsels together, perhaps would never look into my book. We seem now to hare a favourable opportunity of diffusing these sacred and delightful truths.* My books have been well spoken of in three of the London Magazines successively ; and there is printing a new edition. The Lord Jesus, the Wonderful Counsellor, direct us in this truly important affair. I will now, relying on his unerring Spirit, set about preparing the 16th Dialogue for the press ; and I should be very desirous to have it pass under your examination, before it is launch- ed into the world. You will give me leave to expect an answer ; and let me know from time to time where a letter may find you, sent by, dear Sir, your obliged and affection- ate brother in Christ Jesus, J. Hervey, Mmj 3L Deak Sir, — I have been so poorly in my health, and so much engaged in company, that I could not possibly get the enclosed ready before this time ; which is the cause, the only cause of my deferring my thanks for your last favour. As to the doctrine under consideration, I have given a favourable and attentive ear to all that is said against it; and yet the more it is attacked, the more I am convinced of its truth. The Lord Jesus enable me to deliver and testify, with clearness of senti- ment and meekness of temper, what I am persuaded in my own conscience is the true gospel of grace ! The enclosed paper con- tains some of the alterations which I propose to make. Another sheet will comprise the remainder. Let me desire you, dear Sir, to examine them, and remark upon them, as freely and impartially as you have done upon other papers. Pray treat me with a kind severity. Whatever sentence or ex- pression appears wrong, I beg of you ani- • How evidently does Mr. Sandeman appear to be mistaken, in calling this the popular doctrine, — in judging that Mr. Hervey had ^ined a i>ublic esteerri on the account of i t ! 575 madvert, correct, spare it not. I assure you I can bear to be told, by your friendly pen at least, This is not evangelical — here you contradict yourself — this is redundant, and that ambiguous. Please to make little marks of reference in the MS. and pen down your observations on a separate paper. I think to drop my first design of dividing the essay into two Dialogues, and answering the various objections. This I intend to postpone for the present ; and would print no more than is needful to explain, establish, and guard the tenet. I think to add, in a note, a friendly invitation to any serious and ingenious person on the other side of the question, to debate and sift this very im- portant point ; professing, that if it can be proved erroneous, I will retract and re- nounce it, not only without reluctance, but with pleasure and thankfulness. Truth, the truth of the gospel, is my pearl ; wher- ever I find it, thither, without respect to names or persons, would I resort, and there would I abide. May that gracious promise be fulfilled to us in our searches, " The Lord shall guide thee continually i" 1 hope to send you very soon the residue ; and am, dear Sir, your] obliged and affectionate friend in Christ Jesus, J. Hervev. June 12, Dear Sir, — Last night I was favoured with your second letter, and sincerely thank you for the freedom you have used, and the corrections you have made. Herewith I send the remainder of Dialogue 16; those parts, I mean, that are to undergo some al- teration, I wish you could borrow the larger edition ; to that the numeral refer- ences are made, as from that the new edi- tion is printing. I hope you will be so kind as to examine this MS. also with a friendly severity. Spare no sentiment or expression, I beseech you, that so much as seems con- trary to the sound words of our Lord Jesus Christ. If you see any thing that may con- veniently be omitted, I wish you would en- close it in a parenthesis, for I fear the Dia- logue will be too long, and overwhelm the attention. I am sorry that I am so straitened in time, and can say no more : my servant waits, and if I delay him any longer, will be too late to despatch some necessary busi- ness for the family. Be pleased to favour me with your observations as soon as pos- sible, because the printers will, if they are delayed much longer, be tempted to impa- tience. I should be glad if you would make Weston in your way when you return from Norwich. May the Lord Jesus strengthen your judgment, make you of quick under- standing, and enable yuu to detect every 576 MR. HERVEYVS LETTERS thing in my poor essay that is not agreeable to his word ! — I am in doubt whether this letter should be directed to you at London or Norwich. A mistake in this particular may cause a longer delay in the affair. The dl-seeing God guide me in every thing ! I choose London, and hope it will come to your hand before you set out. I am, dear Sir, your obliged and truly affectionate friend in Christ Jesus, J. Hervey. Juhi 6. Dear Sir, — I should be very glad, and much obliged, if you could give me your company in your return from Norwich, that we may thoroughly canvass, and carefully examine the important subject of our cor- respondence. I have ordered the printers to keep their types, composed for this part of my work, standing; and to proceed with the remainder before this is worked off. So liiat 1 hope to have the whole in proof- sheets to lay before you in one view, pro- vided you could favour me with your com- pany pretty soon. A celebrated divine from abroad writes thus, in a private letter to his friend ; in which he speaks the very sentiments of my heart ; and, I apprehend, of yours also. " I apprehend Mr. Hervey's definition of faith will expose him most to the gen- erality of divines, both of the church of England and dissenters ; though it is a very good one, when well explained. The per- suasion or assurance which is in the very nature of faith, must be carefully distin- guished from that which has, in a manner, appropriated the name of assurance to it- self ; I mean that exercise of spiritual sense following upon saving faith, whereby a be- liever sees, and, upon good grounds, con- cludes himself to be in a state of grace and salvation, and that he has an actual interest in Christ, and his whole purchase, even eternal life. The foundation of this assur- ance of sense, is the believer's experience and feeling of what the Holy Ghost has al- ready wrought in his soul, and it runs into tills conclusion : ' I find the fruits of the Spirit planted in my soul — lam a new crea- ture— I love the Lord Jesus in sincerity ; and it is one of the greatest burdens of my life, that I have no love suited to so glorious a One.* From all which, I am sure, God has given me Christ, pardoned my sins ; I am in a state of grace, and must go to glory.' But the ground and foundation of that par- ticular persuasion>nd assurance, which is in the nature of saving faith, is the glorious * TliisiTianner of expressioii.which tins friend never learned from the Scriptures, but catclied (as 1 sup- pose) through common custom, savours too much of tlie leaven of tlie Pharisees. authority and faithfulness of God in Che gospel record, promise, and offer ; and it rises no higher than this, that God offers, and thereby, as he is true and faithful, gives Christ with all his fulness to me, to be be- lieved on, and trusted in, for life and eter- nal salvation.* So that I not only safely and warrantably may, but am obliged, to re- ceive, apply, and make use of Jesus Christ, as my own Saviour, by resting on him, and trusting to him as such. Jehovah's great gift, offer, and promise, gives every sinner a sufficient warrant to do this, and are a strong immoveable foundation for this per- suasion or assurance of faith. Nor can any other solid satisfying answer be given to a broken-hearted, humbled creature,f who puts away from himself the gracious pro- mises and offers of the gospel upon this ill- grounded imagination, that they do not be- long to him : To whom it always may, and ought to be answered, That they do belong to him, in the sense I have mentioned."^ This extract is, I think, the precise ex- planation of our doctrine. If you find any expression not exactly suited to your opin- ion, please to observe it. I am, dear Sir, your affectionate and obliged brother in Christ, J. HerviiIY. August i. Dear Mr. Cudworth, — Last night I received your favour, and, according to yoiu- request, have written to my excellent friend, without delaying a single post. The Lord Jesus accompany my conciliatory offices with his heavenly blessing I I hope you had a good journey, and are well in health, and joyful through fiiith. We shall all be glad to heai- that bore his journey comfortably, and is return- ed home more and more established in the love of his blessed Lord. * This is well expressed, and evidently distinguishes his meaning of the word offer, from the ofter of a bargain to any who will come up to the terms. He evidentlyjmeans the real grant of the blessings, as when money, food, and clothing, are ottered to the poor, famished, or naked. t If this gentleman, by a broken-hearted, humbled creature, means some that were hereby more qualified for mercy than the rest, he would differ from iiswide- ly; but if, (as I apprehend) he only means those whose criminal remorse renders them absolutely des- titute of every other hope .than by Christ alone, we are of one mind. i One of the most evangelical appearing objections against this grant of Christ to be believed on, is '' That, according to this doctrine, the free gift does not secure their reigning in life on whom it is bestow, ed ; because :they may rise to damnation for all that abundance of the gift." To which it may be answered. That gift, though to sinners indefinitely, that they may live by it, yet is a non-entity to every one till he iiears it, and no conveyance of righteousness to any man that does not believe it 'according to that which is spoken. And, on the other hand, where a man does really believe it, he 'undoubtedly lives by it : and there " grace reigns through righteousness to eternal life," over all who are thus begotten again. TO MR. CUD WORTH i77 I hope you do not forget me and my fa- mily, my people, and my woik at tlie press. May the good Lord prosper you, and your labours of love ! I am much straitened for time, and can add no more at present, but that lam yours most cordially, J- Hekvey. September 9. Dear Mr. Citdworth, — Mr. W d has been with me, and went away last week. We had much talk concerning you. I told him what I thought of your conversation and doctrine. What I could urge seemed to make no impression. I assure you my esteem for you is not diminished. I am more and more persuaded, that your method of stating that grand and precious doctrine, the doctrine of faith in Christ, is the truth of the gospel. Your company, whenever you come this way, will be truly acceptable to all my family. I wish you would inform me of the mis- takes which you apprehend to be in Dr. Crisp's sermons. I have the new edition, intend to read them very attentively, and should be glad of your cautionary hints. Pray, let me hear from you soon ; and believe me to be, dear Sir, your cordial and faithful friend, J. Hervey. which seems to need explication oi altera- tion, I will most freely communicate it. Pray let me hear from you soon. Inform me how you go with Mr. . Depend upon it, I will do you all the service that lies in my power. Not merely because you are a friend whom I esteem, but also because I am persuaded you work the work of the Lord Jesus. To whose tender love I com- mend yourself and your labours ; and am, dear Sir, your truly aifectionate friend, J. Hervey. October 9. Dear Mr. Cudworth, — I received your welcome letter from London. I should have answered it much sooner, but I had quite forgot where to direct. The direc- tion was given in the first letter you ever wrote to me, which, consisting only of kind and friendly expressions, I suffered to perish, as I do all letters of that kind. Your other epistolary favours I carefully preserve. I have waited and waited, one day after an- other, in hopes of seeing you at Weston in your return to Norwich ; and have been un- easy in myself, lest you should think I ne- glect your correspondence. Indeed I do not. Neither do I forget my promise. I have a set of the new edition reserved on purpose for you ; to be delivered into your own hand, if you call upon me. Or I will order a set to be left for you in London, wherever you shall appoint. I sincerely thank you for the copy of your letter. The sentiments are such as I wish to have written on my heart ; such as I wish to speak and teach while I live ; and in my writings, if my writings survive me, to testify when I am dead. May the good Lord bear witness to such doctrine, by mak- ing it heahng to the conscience, and fruit- ful in the conversation. Y'our treatise of Marks and Evidences I will attentively read. If any thing occurs November 8. My Dear Friend, — Your welcome letter is now in my hand. I thank you for the remarks it contains. The Lord make us of quick understanding in the fear of the Lord ! I have read the treatise concerning Marks and Evidences. I am going, as soon as I have despatched this letter, to read it again. If to do the heart good be a sign of its va- lue, I can very confidently bear this testi- mony to its worth. It refreshes my spirit, and comforts my soul. I hope, "when re- published, it will be attended with this blessed effect to multitudes of readers. I believe it would be advisable to send it abroad without a name, and commit it whol- ly to the disposal of Him who is head over all things to the church. Did you ever see a little treatise written by one Mr. Beart, formerly pastor of a church in the place where you now reside ? It is styled, " A Vindication of the Eternal Law and Everlasting Gospel." It is but very lately that it came to my hands. It appears to me a truly valuable piece. I for- got to desire, that you would present my most cordial salutations to Mr . It is not for want of esteem that I do not write to him, but for want of health and multipli- city of engagements. I should be very glad if we would communicate, with all freedom, any remarks that he himself has made, or has heard from others, relating to Theron and Aspasio. Mr. called upon me, about ten days ago, in his return to London. He staid only to make a hasty breakfast, so that I had very little conversation with him. I hope the God of power, and the God of peace, will unite our hearts in the love of the Spirit, and unite our hands in the work of the Lord. There is no stage goes from Northamp- ton to Suffolk. I believe I may convey a parcel by the Cambridge carrier. I will inquire of him when he conies this way ; and, if it is a practicable thing, you shall have the books by his next return. We shall all be glad to entertain you at Weston ; and my best prayers will always 2* 578 accompany your labours in the Lord. I send a frank, lest your stock should be ex- hausted. Write to me soon, and pray for me ever, who am, dear Sir, your affection- ate brother in Christ, J. Heuvey. MR. HERVEY'S LETTERS God for such truths ! Such truths make the November 25. My dear Friend, — I sent, last week, by the Cambridge carrier, a set of my books. He promised me to deliver them to the Bury carrier ; and I hope by this time they have reached your hands. Whenever you peep upon them, pray be so kind as to note down any expressions or sentiments that are not thoroufjhly evangehcal. I shail be pleased with them, and thankful for them, even though I should not have, through the want of a new edition, an opportunity of inserting them in my volumes. I have been thinking of your proposal to republish your treatise on Marks and Evi- dences. Suppose you transmit it, detached from any other piece, under a frank to me : Suppose I send it to an understanding and sagacious friend ; and learn his sentiments, and get his critical observations on it : By this means you will see what is likely to give offence, or meet with objection ; and may perhaps be enabled so to form your ar- guments, so to draw up your forces, as to prevent or baffle any attack. If you ap- prove of this scheme, send me a copy of the piece, tearing off the title-page, and I will immediately convey it to a friend, who lives at a great distance from London, who knows nothing of the author, and will give me his opinion without favour or disaffec- tion. Lest you should not be furnished with a frank, I send the enclosed. My sister is gone from home;^my mother is in health, and will always be glad of such conversation as yours ; which will be equally agreeable to, dear Sir, your affectionate friend and brother in Christ Jesus, J. Hervey. January 26, 1 756, My dear Friend, — I received, with plea- sure and gratitude, your letter and its con-, tents. Would have made my acknowledg- ments immediately, but waited a post or two, in hopes of transmitting to you some remarks on your treatise. But my friend has not sent them. As soon as they come, they shall be forwarded to you. I am very much pleased with your ex- planation of In the Lord have I riyhteoiisness. " /a sinner, not I a new or sanctified crea- ture." This is encouraging, this is delight- ful, it is like a door opened in the aik for me, even for me to enter. Blessed be gospel glad tidings indeed to my soul. They are the very thing which 1 want, and the only thing which can give me comfort, or do me good. When people inquire, whether sanctifica- tion is an evidence of justification? I sup- pose by sanctification they mean what St. Paul calls the fruits of the Spirit— love of God, charity to man, meekness, temperance, &c. Now, may we not allow these to be proper evidences of faith, but maintain, that the appropriating faith, or the faith of per- suasion,* is the appointed means of produc- ing them ? "The life which I live in the flesh," the life of holiness, usefulness, and comfort, " I live by the faith of the Son of God." What this faith is, he explains in the next sentence ; by viewing the Son of God, " as loving me, and giving himself for me." Pray favour me with your opinion of 1 John iii. 19. This seems one of the texts least reconcilable with our doc- trine. I have a long letter from a new hand, wrote very fair, and drawn up in an ela- borate manner, in opposition to my account of faith, and to several parts of Dialogue 16. It consists of five sheets wrote on every side ; too large, I apprehend, to come under a frank, otherwise I would transmit it to you for your perusal. I hope to see you ere long ; then we may examine it to- gether. I am glad to hear that you are acquaint- ed with j\Ir. , and that he is so well acquainted with the truth as it is in Jesus. The Lord enable him, and raise up many more ministers, to spread abroad the joyful sound. When you give me your company, do not forget to bring with you the evange- lical piece on the work of the Spirit in bringing a soid to Christ. There is one passage in Dialogue 16, which I think 's very injudiciously inserted, and is really a mistake. I observed it a good while ago, and expunged it from my copy : and my new opposer has not spared to animadvert upon it. What need have we to pray for that divine Guide, " who leads into all truth!" May this divine Guide dwell in us, and walk in us, be our counsellor and comforter even unto death ! Dear Mr. Cudworth, I hope, wll not for get in his prayers the weakest of ministers and the weakest of believers, but his affec- tionate brother in Christ, J, Hervey. » By appi-opriathig- faith, he means the confidence arising from the belief of the truth, of righteousness and salvation freely presented to the guilty in Christ Jesus, as their immediate ground of confidence; which he also styles the faith nf persuasion, to dis- tinguish it from that which is described, not by what we are persuaded of, but as a hidden, holy principle discoverable only by the good qualifications which distinguish us from others. TO MR. CUDWORTH. 579 April 2\. My Dear Friend, — I received your val- uable remarks, and sincerely thank you for them. May our divine Master enable us both to discern and to display the truth as it is in Jesus. I am much pleased, and thoroughly sa- tisfied, with your explanation of Acts ii. 39. The pi'oposals seem to me clear, per- tinent, and weighty. If I am able to make any slight correction in the style, it shall be transmitted in my next. I would now only ask, how far you have proceeded in the work ? I think you should by all means get the greater part, the whole, I would ra- ther say, completed, before you begin to publish. If this is not done, many inifore- seen accidents may arise, which will pro- bably straiten you in point of time, and oblige you to be precipitate in your prepar- ations for the press. And I am inclined to query, whether it is not a piece of justice we owe to the public, not to engage them in purchasing a piece, till it is put beyond the power of common casualties to render it imperfect. Pray, therefore, let me know what progi'ess you have made. I could wish to have it judiciously executed, and not performed in that confused, inaccurate, slovenly manner, which must be a continual discredit to Mr. W 's Christian Li- brary. I rejoice to find that the gospel of our salvation is spreading. May it have a free course and an extensive circuit ! till the fountain becomes a river, and the river wi- dens into a sea ! The enclosed came a little while ago. My friend is very severe. It will give you an opportunity of exei'cising forbearance and gentleness. He knows nothing at all of the author. When your other affairs will allow leisure, please to return the let- ter, with your observations ; which will oblige, and I trust edify, dear Sir, your af- fectionate friend, J. Heuvey. Mai^ 27. Dear Mr. Cudworth, — I have only time to beg of you, if you have the letter of remarks on Mr. Marshall's book, to re- turn it to me as sociii as you can. If there are any observations that are just, and such as animadvert upon passages truly excep- tionable, be so kind as to give me your opinion on them. The leason of my de- siring this, is a prospect of a new edition of Marshall. A bookseller is inclined to print one, and sell it at half-a-crown price ; 1 believe encouraged thereto by my recom- mendation of it. The recommendation has been printed in our Northampton newspa- per, and immediately there was a demand for twenty-three of your abridgments. But the printer resume that the Deity regards him more than others. And the relief a man finds by this discovery is, that God can be just, and justify him as he at present stands, without more, or while he finds nothing about himself in the way of wish, desire, or otherwise, but what renders him obnoxious to the divine displeasure." The question that remains is, whether God has not in- tended a farther relief for such guilty help- less ones, even to assure them of their par- ticular salvation in believing, trusting, and confiding in this sullicient righteousness, as f;ivcn freely to them to be thus depended upon ? whether there is not a word, pro- mise, call, or testimony, to this purpose ? and whether Christian obedience is not in- lluenced by an assurance thus obtained ? At the same time, we can also readily agree, that " no man can warrantably be as- sured that he is already a Christian, a be- liever in Christ, or that he is an object of the peculiar favour of God, but by being also conscious, on good grounds, that his practice, in obedience to the peculiar pre- cepts of Christianity, is influenced by that same truth which influenced the lives of the apostles." Now, if there is such a loord, promise, call, or testimotuj, as above mentioned, it is very distinct from, though not contrary to, the declarations concerning the purpose ciwA elec- tion of God ; and affords a visible ground for our confident dependence on that right- eousness, as sinners, without finding any reason about ourselves why God should re- gard us more than others ; whereas the doc- trijie of election, in the nature of it, is not of itself capable of affording us this relief. It is true, " this word, promise, call, or testimony, leaves it as much a secret what particular person shall be saved, as the doc- trine of the divine purpose or election does ;" but does not leave the sinner so much with- out a warrant to appropriate. Notwith- standing the doctrine of election, Palasmon will allow, that " by him all that believe are justified." So also it is said, " He that Cometh to him shall in no wise be cast out ;" " He that believeth on him shall never be confounded." In this view of things, we are fillly war- ranted " to represent the Deity as keeping secret his gracious intentions" to beget this or that particular person by the word of truth ; and, at the same time, " revealing Jiis gracious intentions" to save all those, or any, whosoever they be, that 'without see- ing any difference at all between themselves and others, shall, upon the bare invitation (ind divine promise to the guilty, live, trust, or depend on his Son and his rightcousiiees, graciously provided as a refuge unto such. And while we " are busy in prompting our hearers to live thus by Christ alone, as given fieely and indefinitely to the guilty, we have reason to show no small concern, lest Satan tempt them" to think, that because God'.s people are chosen to salvation, they are not allowed to feed upon the bread of life, till they know themselves to be distinguished from other sinners as God's chosen. Here- by salvation to the absolutely guilty is de- nied ; and the people are taught to hope for eternal life, only by that which distin- guishes them from the rest of mankind. This is building wood, hay, and stubble, on the precious foundation Christ, the Saviour of the lost. " They tell us, that God hath made a grant, or deed of gift of Christ, and all his benefits, to sinners of mankind. lint when we inquire into this again, we find it turns out to be a gift of benefits to multitudes who are never benefited thereby." And what of all that ? Could there be no such thing as manna given to, or rained daily around the camp of Israel, because some despised it, and longed for the flesh- pots of Egypt ? Must it follow, that there is no such gift, because multitudes neglect and slight it ; or because, like Paltemon, they will not be persuaded theie is such a gift ? Shall our unbelief make the gift, the faith, or faithfulness of God, of none effect ? It remaineth nevertheless a truth, that who- soever believeth on him, or receiveth the gift, shall not perish, but have eternal life. And why may not they miss of the benefit of this gift, who thus reject it, as the word ])reached never profited, not being mixed with faith in them that heard it ? '• It might with equal propriety be said, that there is a grant of life made in the law, and that the divine willingness to bless men is therein expressed. Keep the command- ments, and thou shalt live." It might so ; the difference lies here The grant of life in the law requires condi- tions to be previously performed, before we may presume to account the blessing ours. The gospel bestows life in Christ without any condition, or as a free gift to be imme- diately enjoyed. Several instances of the faith of those who were healed by Christ are adduced, to evidence that they only believed Christ's ability to cure them. To this I answer, that in those instances they waited for a proper ground or declaration to proceed upon, in believing that he \^■ould ; and for that purpose, they made application to him. And where they had ground for concluding the event, they were as certain of that as of his ability. And faith in those cases in- cludes that certainty. 1 Cor. xiii.'2. " If I had all faith, so that I could remove moun- 600 A DEFENCE OF tains ;" compare with Matt, xvii. 20. " When he saw he had faith to be healed," Acts xiv. 9, and in Luke v. 19. 29, they neither doubted his ability or willingness. In our case, the grant of a Saviour to the guilty is declared, as well as the sufficiency of his' righteousness ; hence we make God a liar, if we do not proceed on the truth of both. " The leper, like the two blind men, was fully persuaded that Christ was able to re- lieve him. Yot, as he had no claim upon him, he referred his request entirely to his sovereign pleasure. In the full assurance of faith, he was at Christ's mercy, who was no wise obliged to apply his healing power to him." But this is no argument against that ap- propriation which proceeds entirely upon the gracious declaration and grant of that sovereign good pleasure. If the sovereign good pleasure has declared the guilty, as such, so welcome to what is already done, that "whosoever believeth on him shall have eternal life," he hath no other applica- tion to make, or to wait for. We may be without any claim upon God to do for us any thing that he has not already done, or to give us any right unto what is already done ; but as far as he is pleased to declare himself, it is our business assuredly to be- lieve, trust in him, or hope in his mercy. And that appropriation which proceeds wholly upon his gracious declaratioi>, is consistent with the utmost submission to sovereign grace. " Sovereign grace interposed, providing a righteousness for the guilty world." Palsemon should say, to ascertain his meaning, " providing a righteousness for some of the guilty world." " When once the gift of righteousness is made known to a man." Can the gift properly be said to be made known to a man, unless he knows to whom it is given ? A gift to nobody, is no gift. A gift to the elect, or to the qualified, is not a gift to the guilty world, l)ut to them that are chosen out of it, and distinguished from it. " He that believeth on the Sou of God, hath the record in himself, — the record that God gave of his Son." Palsemon slips over the record here treat- ed of, viz. " That God hath given us eternal life, and this life is in his Son." This the apostle points unto, as what is to be par- ticularly regarded, " And this is the re- cord," &c. Nor should the testimony, that he is well pleased in. him, be under- stood in any sense exclusive of it. •' In like manner, all his children in the faith believe the divine word for righteous- ness, without perceiving any shadow or sym|)tom of it about themselves ; without fueling, or being conscious of any thing about themselves, to concur with the divine word, to make out their righteousness." This description suits Aspasio much bet- ter than Palsemon, who waits for a disco- very of his faith, love, and self-denied obe- dience. " If we look into the Scripture, must we not say, that all the good works which shall be recompensed at the resurrection of the just, are produced by the influence of the divine Spirit dwelling in the hearts of those who believe? Yet such is the connexion betwixt every good work and its reward, that, according to the Scripture, the justice of God, not to say his grace, is concerned to make it good. Heb. vi. 10. ' God is not unrighteous to forget your work and la- bour of love.' • Whosoever shall give you a cup of water to drink in my name, verily, I say unto you, he shall not lose his re- ward.' Justice as well as grace will appear in the last judgment ; then due regard will be had to every man's works. But in the justification of sinners, God has no respect to any man, as better than another. He considers men, when he commends his love to them, as ungodly, and without strength, that is, without any will to be better. And all who find mercy, are brought to view themselves in that same point of light wherein God beheld men, when he gave his Son to die for them. They do not find themselves prepared, or made fitter than others for mercy, by any work of the divine Spirit upon their minds ; but they find their first taste of comfort by hearing of him, ' who through the eternal Spirit offered himself without spot to God.' " Then they find their first taste of com- fort independent of any previous discovery or discernment of their faith, love, or self- denied obedience. And their first taste of comfort is, not that there is a sufficient righteousness provided for the elect, or the qualified, but that there is a sufficient right- eousness provided for the guilty to live by, without waiting for any farther discovery, " The popular doctrine supposes that un- believers may be seriously engaged in pray- ing for the Holy Spirit to help them to faith, and exhorts ihem accordingly ; which is as absurd as to suppose, that a man may be desirous of being influenced by the Spi- rit of a truth, which at present he neither believes nor loves. For I reckon it must be granted, that no man loves the gospel before he believes it." If we only understood by the gospel that we were welcome to do something, or to wait and pray for something, to denominate us Christ's people, then we might be com- plaining for want of this power, praying for it, and perhaps falsely comforted with the supposed will for the deed ; and all the while there is no willingness to live entire- THERON AND ASPASIO. 601 ly by what Christ has done. But this is not the case ; when Aspasio considered appropriation as essential to faith, and press- ed it accordingly, he understood by appro- priation, a living entirely by Christ's righte- ousness alone, without waiting for'any other. " When our systems describe faith to us, as a saving grace bestowed on us, by which we make use of Christ for salvation ; are we not led to think of some grace necessary to our salvation, beside what appeared when Christ, by the grace of God, tasted death for the sins of men ?" But inasmuch as Aspasio's whole plea is to live immediately by that grace alone, without waiting for any other, he stands clear of this mistake. " They seem to forget that Christ is in heaven, and we on earth ; that the only way wherein we can receive benefit from Christ, is by the report concerning him conveyed to our ears." If the report in this particular case in- vites and authorizes us to live by him, and the righteousness which he performed, who is gone to heaven ; we may, notwithstand- ing he is gone to heaven, receive the report for true, and also lay hold of, or live by, the righteousness it thus reveals and conveys to us. " When he comes to know that he may be justified, he finds immediately a covert from the storm." But, according to Palaemon, he does not find this to be a covert for him, till he dis- covers distinguishing qualifications ; where- as Aspasio finds a covert for the guilty sin- ner without any such distinction. " If now we understand by the storm, the wrath that is to come, the believer, knowing that Christ hath done enough to deliver from it, loves him, takes hold of him, or flies to him," How? "In obeying his commands, and frequent- ing every mean of correspondence with him." He that loves him, takes hold of bim, or flies to him, obeys his commands, and is in- clined to frequent every means of corres- pondence with him ; but to give us this as the meaning and import of those scriptural phrases and representations, more becomes Mr. Locke or Archbishop Tillotson, than the evangelical Palaemon. He may be as- sured, if he abides by this doctrine, the of- fence of the cross will soon cease. The primitive Christians were taught to obey, because " Jesus had delivered them from the wrath to come." 1 Thess. i. 10. They fled to him as the righteousness provided for the guilty and destitute ; and by the en- joyment of him under this character, they were disposed to all other obedience. " Accordingly, we find Barnabas exhorted those at Antioch, in vrhom he saw the grace of God, that with purpose of heart they would 'cleave unto the Lord.' The con- sequence of which was, they assembled to- gether in the appointed church order, and denied themselves in sending relief to their brethren in Judea." Did they not assemble as members of Christ, and partakers of his righteousness ? Did they not cleave to him as the Lord their righteousness ? Or did they only fall into the appointed church-order, in order to escape the wrath to come ? If so, what is now become of the sufficient righteousness ; or, .'n short, of all the apostolic exhortations, which constantly proceed upon the certainty of salvation by Christ, as the principle of ail the obedience they call for ? See what efl'ect the knowledge of Christ had on Paul, and what was his steady pur- pose : " Yea, doubtless, and I count all things but loss, for the excellency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord." Paul says, " My Lord," the thing we plead for ; and counts himself " apprehend- ed of Christ Jesus." So that it is plain, he " ran not as uncertainly, he fought not as one that beateth the air." And as his as- surance did not allow him, or lead him to trifle, or slacken his diligence in pressing forward to the desired end : so, on the other hand, his pressing forward was far from be- ing the result of his uncertainty; far from being animated with a view to know, by his performances, whether the divine so- vereignty had interposed in his behalf. Palaemon does not approve of Aspasio saying, " You must endeavour, diligently endeavour, to believe." But we may plead in his excuse, that Aspasio is not here press- ing to receive » report as true without evi- dence, but to appropriate and live by the re- vealed righteousness ; to obtain and main- tain thereby that certainty of acceptance with God, which was necessary to animate and incline to all evangelical obedience, and is included in every apostolic exhortation. " Wherefore, as ye have always obeyed — as ye have received Christ Jesus the Lord, so walk in him- Work out your own sal- vation. Fight the good fight of faith, lay hold on eternal life," &c. And thus under- stood, we may allow, with Palaemon, that " by such arguments God worketh in them that believe, both to will and to do, not any thing in order to justification, but all those things wherein their salvation is evi- denced." " If a friend of mine should see me cheer- ful on hearing something new, and I should tell him I was comforted by an act of faith ; would he not say I trifled with him, and readily ask what good news I had heard, that he might partake in my satisfaction ?' But this representation does not reach those who plead for an immediate and con- C02 A DEFENCE OF staiit living upon the complete and perfect righteousness of Jesus Christ. They are comforted by his acts, and their own has no other concern in it. " Faith, with its effects, is in Scripture often signified by one expression, and ac- cordingly connected with salvation ; as when it is said, ' Whosoever shall call on the name of the Lord shall be saved.' Now, though we cannot say that a believer is sav- ed on account of his prayers, yet we may say that he is saved on account of what he believes, and by which he is encouraged to j)ray. It is easy to see love and hope ex- pressed in all the prayers of faith recorded in the Scripture ; yet it would be absurd to infer from thence, that prayer, love, and faith, are requisites in order to justification, for if we agree with the apostles, we must still maintain, that justification comes by faith, and not by works — not by any thing we do in obedience to any law whatsoever." And at the same time it must be acknow- ledged, that faith is duty and obedience to the divine law, and in this sense a work ; for, as our author has observed, " Will not that law which Christ came to fulfil, the law which requires love to God with all the heart, condemn all who by their unbelief make God a liar? Does not the Spirit of God convince all whom he brings to the knowledge of the truth, of sin, because they believe not on Christ ? In fine, is there any thing contrary to the gospel of the glory of the blessed God not condemned by the divine law?" How can these be re- conciled, unless we admit that faith is so far a work, duty, or obedience, as has been above mentioned ? Yet, as Palsemon maintains, we are justified only by what we believe. We are justified by faith, as we are pleased with a sight, that is, with what we see. And God justifies us by faith when he gives us this sight of faith, where- by we are thus justified. And thus to be justified by Christ's blood, and to be justi fied by faith, is the same thing. If Palaemon will abide by what he says, that the Scriptures point forth the freedom of divine grace to the setting aside all hu man distinctions, in such language as this, " If any man will come after me, — Let him that heareth say. Come ; and whosoever will, let him take of the water of life freely" — we are then agreed ; this is the founda tion of all we plead for, that sinners, as such, are made welcome to take of the wa ter of life freely. " If the Scriptures describe believers as pilgrims and strangers on earth, as running the Christian race, denying themselves for the sake of the heavenly inheritance, and accordingly ' flying for refuge, to lay hold upon the hope set before them ;' our preach- ers, ever mindful of their acts of faith, arc ready to exhort us to put forth the acts of flying to Christ, and laying hold on him." The passage alluded to is Heb. vi. 18, 19. "That by two immutable things, in which it was impossible for God to lie,'we might have a strong consolation, who have fled for refuge to lay hold upon the hope set before us : Which hope we have as an anchor of the soul, both sure and steadfast," &c. W/io have fled, is an act passed, and bears a manifest reference to flying from the revenger of blood to the cities of refuge, Numb. XXXV. 27 ; to which city the man- slayer being fled, was, while there, secure : not in his act, but in the privikge of the city wherein he now dwelt ; and waited un- to the death of the high-priest, as the Iiojjc set before him. The hope set before us, the apostle tells us, we yet see not, " but with patience wait for it," Rom. viii. 25. But liow can we with patience wait for it, if it is not at present the " anchor of the soul, both sure and steadfast?" Or, as the apostle says in another place, " I so run, not as uncertain- ly." Yet as his security lay in that righte- ousness of Christ alone, he kept his body (all his temporal concei'ns) under subjec- tion thereto, even as the manslayer abode in the city of refuge, knowing there was no safety for him elsewhere. When a man performs his acts of obedience, that he may thereby gain himself a conscious title, pos- session, or enjoyment of the favour of God, it is but of little moment whether he styles it the favour of God by Christ, or by any other name. His way to come at it is still the same — by his own obedience. Nor can this be flying for refuge to Christ, but ra- ther choosing my own performances as my security, and betaking myself to them. " If Barnabas exhorts those in whom he saw the grace of God, with purpose of heart to ' cleave unto the Lord,' after the example of the believers who were said to be added unto the Lord when they were added to the society of the disciples, keep- ing his commands, then we are told, that justifying faith is a cleaving to Christ." It will answer oiu- pxu'pose, and convey our whole meaning to say, the faith which justifies cleaves to Christ ; and in exhorting to cleave to Christ, we exhort to continue in the faith. The phrase, " Believers were the more added to the Lord," is, very evi- dently, neither more nor less, than that many more were begotten to the faith. " But Aspasio tells us, that it is the of- fice of faith ' to take and use the inestim- able gift.' If in this or any other part of the New Testament, more be meant, by re- ceiving Christ, than knowing him or be- lieving on him, then I am ready to shew, that more than faith is meant, namely, faith with its fruits and efl!"ccts." THERON AND ASPASIO. 603 l3y receiving Christ more may be meant tliaii /iuoivirig him, hut not more than be- lieving on him. We may be said to know a thing, when its evidence forces itself upon the mind ; but to believe on Christ is, in the Scripture sense, the subject of exhortation. If Palffimon will confine himself to mean, by faith, no more than a passive conviction of truth, it shall be allowed him, that by believing on Christ more than he means by faith is intended. The same may be said of the phrases laying hold, leaning, &c. more is allowed to be meant by these expressions than Palaemon means by faith. At the same time it may be affirmed, that these expressions of activity "do not contribute their quota" to our justification, since we are justified by the righteousness received, trusted, or leaned upon, and not by our act. We are justified by ivhat we receive, even as Paliemon will allow we are justified by what we believe. " The faith of the Gospel is indeed the basis of trust." If so, we Ave agreed again ; for this trust we call believing on Christ. If the faith of the gospel is the basis of trust, it is of appropriation ; for how can I trust in that wherein I am not allowed to take any share ? If we are not allowed to trust in the Redeemer's righteousness when absolutely guilty, the faith of the gospel is not the ba- sis of trust. In Palsemon's view, the gos- pel only shows us the possibility of the sal- vation of the elect, and cannot therefore be the basis of trast to a sinner ; but the dis- covery of bis obedience, as giving him hopes that he is one of the elect, is, in fact, the matter wherein his trust is founded. " If one approaching to a frozen lake or river over which he has occasion to pass, tells me, that he has been assured by good information, that the ice was sufficiently strong to support him ; and yet afterall proves timorous, and averse to make the trial by venturing his person freely upon it, I plainly perceive he has no faith in the report he heard, because he does not trust in it ; or, which is the same thing, he cannot trust, rely, confide in, or venture himself upon the ice." There cannot be a more apt illustration of what we plead for. And he that ven- tures his eternal concerns on the all-suffi- cient righteousness of Christ, with the same confidence that he that believes the ice will bear him ventures his body upon that, will not be averse to run the risk of his interest and reputation also for the sake of it. We can therefore have no objection to Palaemon, when he says, " If one tells me that he believes the gospel, and yet proves averse to risk his in- terest or reputation in the world for the sake of it, I immediately perceive that, whatever he speaks with his mouth, he does not in his heart believe the gospel, because he j)uts no trust in it." " Perhaps it will now be inquired, are no rules to be observed, no means to be used, no works to be exerted by the human mind or body, in order to justification ? The answer is ready : Yes, very many. And they may be thus shortly summed up : Be perfect, keep the commandments, and thou shalt live. The obligation of the law is eternal, and cannot be loosed. But per- haps another state of the question will be demanded, and that faith should be more directly respected therein. Well, then, let it stand thus : Ought not a man to be at pains to attain the persuasion, that all the pains he takes are good for nothing, except to enhance his guilt ? Here, methinks, we are landed at dowju-ight absurdity ; for who will labour in hopes of being convinced that all his labour is to no purpose, unless to his hurt ?" This we may allow to be very well stated, with respect to the persons whom it con- cerns. But the question between our author and Aspasio really stands thus : Are no rules to be observed, no means to be used, no acts to be exerted, by the human mind or body, to arrive at the certainty of our own particular justification? Paliemor. says. Yes, a great many ; as many as will serve to demonstrate that we are elected .•' Aspasio says. Only thankfully to receive or accept the blessings as freely given. And all the direction given by Asjjasio respects this question, and not the sufficiency of tlie finished work of Christ to justify the most guilty. " The design of the passage, Rom. x. 19, 20, 21, is plainly to show, that faith comes not by any human endeavours, or the use of any means, even under the greatest ad- vantages that men can enjoy, but of that same sovereign good pleasure which pro- vided the grand thing believed." Here is, then, notwithstanding all Pal- aemon's exactness, a something more than the finished work of Christ, a something called faith, which he tells us comes " of that same sovereign good pleasure which provided the grand thing believed." Pal;je- mon will reply, he means no more than be- lieving that which is provided is sufficient ; nor do we mean any more by appropriation, than receiving that which is sufficient, as believing it to be freely given to us for that purpose. " I would here subjoin, by way of post- cript to this, some reflections on the assur- ance or appropriation said to be essential to saving faith. " While various terms and distinctions are coined by popular preachers on this sub- ject, great neglect is shown to a very plain and obvious distinction, which Paul makes 604 A DEFENCE OF betwixt tlic assuiance of faith and the as- surance of hope." Upon a review of the Scriptures, to see what foundation there was for this remark, I gathered the following : 1. In regard to faith. " Being justified by faith, we have peace with God, through our Lord Jesus Christ," Rom. v. 1 ; " Ail joy and peace in believing," Rom. xv. 13 j and not by what Palsemon styles assurance of hope, gathered from a discovery of our faith, love, and self-denied obedience. The language of faith is not barely con- cerning others, the elect, &c. ; " But we believe, that through the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ we shall be Saved," Acts xv. 11. Faith is described, Heb. xi. 25, 26, to be so far the assurance of eternal life by Christ, as to be, on that very account, " the victory that overcomes the world." They that died in faith, " not having re- ceived the promises, but having seen them afar off, and were persuaded of and embraced them, and (therefore) confessed they were strangers and pilgrims on the earth," Heb. xi. 23, — did they not appropriate these promises? or did they only consider them as belonging to the elect, and themselves uncertain whether they were of the number, till they could discover it by the discovery of their faith, love, and self-denied obedience ? The assurance of faith proceeds upon " having boldness to enter into the holiest by the blood of Jesus, by a way consecrated for us, and having a High-priest over the house of God," Heb. x. 19, 22. And can all this be in a fixed uncertainty, or without appropriation ? Can I draw near, as having a way consecrated, or as having a High- priest over the house of God ; and, at the same time, do not know whether I have or no? If we are condemned for asking doubting- ly, James i. 6, 7, and for little faith in Pio- vidence, Matth. vi. 30, does not the oppo- site character imply a certainty of divine favour and regard by sovereign grace, inde- pendent of a discovery of our previous obe- dience ? Rom. xiv. 23. " Whatsoever is not of faith," i. e. whatsoever action is not of con- fidence of acceptance with God, " is sin." Dots not this Scripture make confidence essentiid to faith ? Rom. iv. 5. " To him that worketh not, but believeth on him that justitieth the un- godly," &c. Is not this inconsistent with waiting to be godly, before I dare put my trust in him ? We cannot " call on him in whom we have not believed/' Rom. x. 14; that is, we cannot " call in faith, nothing doubting," as above, James i. 6. It is the divine commandment to " be- lieve in his name," I John iii. 23 ; and it is the strength of " faith against hope," of what we see or feel, " to believe in hope" of what God hath freely given aiid pro- mised. Eph. iii. 12. "In whom we have bold- ness and access with confidence by the faith of him." Can this be where there is no appropriation ? Gal. V. 5. " We through the Spirit wait for the hope of righteousness by faith." Can this be said in an uncertainty? or in a conditional certainty denending on our per- formance ? Can the dead live by " believing on him," according to John xi. 25, if they are to wait till they feel life first ? 2. In regard to hope. We are told, that not our performances, but God's promise and oath, are the " strong consolation of them who have fled for refuge to lay hold of the hope set before them ; which hope we have as an anchor of the soul, both su7g and steadfast, and which entereth into that within the vail." Heb. vi. 18, 19, We are told to " hold fast the beginning of our confidence, the confidence and re- joicing of the hope, firm unto the end." Heb. iii. 6. As we " have not seen, and yet have be- lieved," so we are said to " hope for that we see not, and patiently wait for it." Rom. viii. 25. " We are saved through faith." Eph. ii. 8. " We are saved by hope." Rom. viii. 23. We are said to " purify our- selves by this hope." 1 John iii. 3 ; to have our " hearts purified by faith," Actsxv. 9 ; to " purify our souls in obeying the truth through the Spirit, unto the unfeigned love of the brethren." 1 Peter i. 22. We are said to be all " the children of God by faith in Jesus Christ," Gal. iii. 29 ; to be " be- gotten again to a lively hope," not through a discovery of our obedience, but " by the resurrection of Christ from the dead." 1 Pet. i. 3. And " the God of hope fills us with all joy and peace in believing." Rom. XV- 13. " And being justified by faith, we rejoice in the hope of the glory of God." Rom. V. 2. When we are exhorted, 1 Pet. iii. 15, to " be ready always to give an answer to every man that asketh us a reason of the hope that is in us," I apprehend our faith, or that truth we believe, is that reason, and not our own righteousness or qualifications. Upon this review of these Scriptures, it appears to me, that Palsemon's refinement upon the Scripture phrases, to the exclud- ing appropriation or certainty of salvation from faith, and ascribing it wholly to a dis- covery of our inherent qualifications, under the name of assurance of hope, is not so scriptuially founded as he has imagined. " The assurance of hope is enjoyed only THERON AND ASPASIO. 60.- by those who give all diligence to obtain it." That they are exhorted to show " the same diligence to the full assurance of hope unto the end," is true. We are also to " hold fast the beginning of our confidence steadfast unto the end." " The first of these (the assurance of faith) was called for in a man's first pro- fession of the faith, upon his first hearing the gospel, in order to his being acknow- ledged for a Christian." Hope is also called the " hope of our calling by the gospel," Eph. i. 19, not the hope of our obedience, or hope arising from our qualifications. And upon a man's first hearing the gospel, when he was first be- gotten again by the word of truth, he is said to be " begotten again unto a lively hope, by the resurrection of Christ from the dead." I Pet. i. 3. Christ is said to " dwell m our hearts by faith," Eph. iii. 17, and Col. i. 27, as our "hope of glory." And if he is not thus in us, we are said to be not young professors, or young Christians, but reprobates. " The assurance of faith is likewise ne- cessary to the drawing near to God in his worship." We are likewise said to " draw near to God by the better hope," Heb. vii. 19, " which hope we have as an anchor of the soul, both sure and steadfast." " The assurance of hope, again, is an en- oyment proposed to them who believed." A steadfast continuance, full assurance, and increase in the faith, is proposed to them also. " The assurance of hope, then, holds pace, first and last, with the work and la- bour of love." The apostolic hope held pace, first and last, with the apostolic faith ; and love or charity followed both. The apostles do not teach the order to be faith, love, and hope, because I love ; but faith, in the revealed righteousness, is the spring of hope ; and love flowing from both. " Now abideth faith, hope, and charity ; these three" as the root, and not the fruit of our obedience. " There was no Christian, however emi- nent, in the days of the apostles, but needed the exhortation to give all diligence for maintaining and confirming the assurance of hope." Nor was any Christian so far advanced, but he might be exhorted to be " strong in the grace which is in Christ Jesus, and continue in the faith grounded and settled." " They often called on men to examine themselves." They declared remission of sin immedi- ately in Christ's name, as the truth where- by we pass "from death to life." They did not teach people to find remission of sin by the way of their inherent dispositions or works ; but when the apostle Paul was called upon for a proof of Christ speaking in him, he bid the Corinthians examine themselves for that proof; for if they had not received Christ, they were reprobates ; and if they had, they were his epistle of commendation, agreeable to what he had said, chap. iii. — xiii. 5. " No man, then, can be charged with the sin of disbelieving the gospel, for doubting if he be a good Christian." But he may, for doubting whether Christ is given to him in the divine declarations to sinners ; or, whether he may trust to those declarations ; or, for doubting whether he may venture his eternal concerns upon Je- sus Christ alone, without and before any discovery of his excellency above other men. " Yea, we find the apostles ready to quash the confidence of those who were ready to conclude their state was changed, by such awful sentences as this : ' He that saith, I know him, and keepeth not his command- ments, is a liar, and the truth is not in him.' " They who professed the faith and hope of Christians, and were evidently not in- fluenced by the Christian love to observe the commandments of him in whom they professed to believe, were undoubtedly the subjects of this censure ; which may well be admitted, without any contradiction to the hope of a guilty sinner by Christ alone. " The apostles frequently declare their assurance of faith and hope in the same passage. While they express their faith in Christ, they are at the same time confident of their interest in him.'' This proves, that either the apostle's Christian hope stood in a nearer connexion with their faith, and sprung more immedi- ately from their doctrine than Patemon will admit of; or else, that he is more accurate than they in describing it. " This joint assurance they sometimes express in fellowship with all that follow their footsteps, and often in language plainly distinguishing the apostles themselves from other professors of the faith." The 1 John v. II, is not of this sort: " This is the record which he that believeth hath in himself; he that believeth it not maketh God a liar, because he believeth not the record which he gave of his Son." And tliis is the record that God hath given, not to us apostles, exclusive of others : not to us who can say, " God, I thank thee I am not as other men ;" but to us, guilty sinners, lost, &c. ; to us, as numbered with them who, in not believing it, make God a liar. " God hath given to us eternal life, and this life is in his Son :" so given him, that "he that hath the Son hath life, and he C06 that hath not the A DEFENCE OF Son of God hath not life ;" it being only to be received, posess- ed, or enjoyed, in receiving, possessing, and enjoying of him. " The same Spirit, acting as the Com- forter, is given only to those who are al- ready the friends of Christ. To this pur- pose Paul says, Gal. iv- 6, ' And because ye are sons, God hath sent forth the Spirit of his Son into your hearts, crying, Abba, Father.' " That is, and because ye, while enemies, have received, through the gospel, " the adoption of cliildren by Jesus Christ." Eph. i. 5. Because, also, according to the ful- ness of time, ye are sons, the church being come out of her non-age. As a proof of this it is evident, God hath not given you " the spirit of bondage again to fear, but he hath sent forth the Spirit of his Son into your hearts," whereby ye obtain such a dis- covery of salvation to the guilty, as enables you to cry " Abba, Father." " The Holy Spirit then acts a twofold part, as he breathes in the gospel. He re- conciles enemies, and he comforts friends." He reconciles and comforts enemies in the same instant, and by the same truth ; so the distinction is not properly founded. Besides, the consolation we have by Christ to the end, is of the same nature with the beginning — the grace that is manifest in Christ Jesus to the guilty. Not hut that we have also the additional consolation ot those sayings which relate to our witnessing and suffering for the truth. " What, then, shall we say of those pre- tenders to the apostolic consolation, whose very profession of Christianity, instead of being any loss to them, spreads their repu- tation for piety, and procures them esteem and reverence from the world ?" We will say, their consolation is not apostolic, that the offence of the cross has ceased with them, or that they are of the world. But it is very plain Aspasio's ap- propriation, or that trust wherein he is com- forted, has not had this effect, however he may have been honoured on other accounts. " In latter times, not a few have, from the hand of church authority, supported by se- cular power, endured the same sufferings which the apostles met with from the Jews and Romans, and accordingly enjoyed .the same consolation. It was very natural for such of them as were writers to commend the faith which thus wrought by love." They suffered as maintaining the certain- ty of salvation by Christ alone, and did not ground their certainty upon their sufferings, although they were fiir from being discourag- ed thereby, but endured them with addition- al consolation. Their assurance gave the of- fence, and caused their sufferings. " Shall we say that these friends of Christ would have approved of that assur- ance of an interest in him, which men now pretend to acquire by some heart work, in a full consistency with their worldly ease and reputation?" Nor does Aspasio plead for such an as- surance : what he pleads for is founded only upon the divine declarations to guilty sin- ners ; and is far from having the approba- tion of the devout and honourable of the world, however they may profess to esteem his writings on account of the elegancy of the style, or some particulars foreign to his main intention in them. " The modern assurance proceeds on the principle, that the simple truth believed af- fords no joy nor comfort." This cannot be oiu- case, who plead for the joy and comfort of the sufficient right- eousness, as given freely to the guilty in those evangelical declaratioTis. " Will the news of a plentiful importa- tion of corn, in the time of famine, give joy to many ready to perish, and revive even the poorest with the hope that they may be fed ?" Will the joy and comfort of this news be set aside by understanding, that the corn is freely given for us to live upon without mo- ney or price ? Will not this rather enhance the joy ? Does not the poorest receive com- fort from such tidings, because they expect either to be able to buy some, or to have some given them ? " Yet no man knows certainly but his present day may be his last-" But the joy created by the news above- mentioned proceeds on a contrary supposi- tion, viz. That he shall live, and be sustain- ed by it. Besides, the bread of life con- cerns a day that will never have an end ; therefore this uncertainty is foreign to the purpose. " And however diffident the convert (that is, the convert of Aspasio's stamp) be, he is still supposed to be possessed of some degree of assurance, provided he blame him- self for the want of it." He is supposed to live by Christ alone, as his sufficient righteousness, who con- demns every word, work, or thought to the contrary, or who fights this fight of faith against all oppositions and trials, inward or outward. But though we may make such an allowance, this is not our j)oint. The question is not so much about whether I be- lieve ; let that make itself evident ; the proper question to be always considered and rested in, is this. Does God give to guilty me eternal life in his Son? Is this the spring of my hope, and the source of my love and obedience ? Do I live not by my notion that I am a believer, but do I live by this ? " They (the devils) believe, they hate, and TIIERON AIVfD ASPASIO. yet they tremble at that truth which Christ's people believe, love, and find salvation in. With them are ranked all those of man- kind who know as much of the truth as in- clines them to hate and pervert it." Yet it cannot be said of the devils, they have the same confidence. It cannot be said of the devils, that they receive or ap- propriate the divine righteousness as treely given to them, or that they see any founda- tion for it. " In this view, the same truth is the sa- vour of life unto life unto some, and of death unto death unto others. In this view, the same truth is the object of contempt and chagrin to some, and of love and joy to others." True, it is so ; but not by both believing it alike for themselves. 607 Letter VI — " We are now, then, to consider faith as a principle of life and ac- tion." Palsemon is here obliged to admit of a different consideration of faith. If he con- sidered it in justification as a principle of life and action, he would have been in- volved in the mistakes he has been oppos- ing. If, on the other hand, he denied faith to be a principle of life and action, he would overthrow the prmciple of the Christian obe- dience he pleads for. Now, since he is thus obliged to take up this distinction for himself, why should he not allow it to Aspasio ? Why should he not allow that appropriation, al- though it is an act or work exerted by the human mind, in consequence of the belief of the- gospel, and as a principle of all other Christian obedience ? Yet we are not justi- fied by our appropriating persuasion, but by the righteousness we appropriate ; even as Palsemon says, we are justified by what we believe, and not by faith, as a principle of life and action. " And here we must carefully distinguish betwixt all works by which men would pre- tend to acquire faith, and those which faith produces ; for, if we will contend that jus- tification comes by faith without works, and that there is no acceptable working but what follows upon this, and yet maintain that faith is acquired by works, we undoubtedly reason in a circle. And however seriously and devoutly we may be occupied in this kind of reasoning, it is evident we are em- ployed in nothing else but solemn trick and dissimulation ; unless it may be pled in our behalf, that we are imposing on ourselves by the same means by which we impose upon others. " Men arc justified by the knowledge of a righteousness finished in the days of Ti- berius ; and this knowledge operates upon them, and leads them to work righteous- ness. ' If yc know,' says the aj)ostle John, ' that he is righteous, ye know that every one that doth righteousness is born of him.' Faith is not acquired, but is obtained, as Peter says, (rai; Xa-^sfn), ' To them who have obtained by lot like precious faith with us.' Of two criminals justly condemned to die, if one escapes by a favourable throw of the dice, and the other dies for his crime, we see mercy in the deliverance of the former, and no injustice in the death of the latter. Two men may be employed with equal diligence in studying the Scripture, and with equal seriousness ni pi'aying for divine assistance ; the one may come to know the truth, and the other may grope in the dark all his lifetime. He who comes to know it, plainly perceives that he has found what he was not seeking after ; he plainly sees that his most serious devotion was pointed in direct opposition to what now comforts him." Nevertheless, the truth being declared, they may, like the noble Bereans, search the Scriptures, "whether these things are so." " Thus the word of life is held forth in the world — serving as a mean of divine aj)- pointment to lead some to the faith, and render others inexcusable," This is a proper reply to Palffimon's own objection : " That the grant of the gosjiel lb a gift of benefits to multitudes who are never benefited thereby. It serves as a means of divine appointment to lead some to faith, and leave others inexcusable." " The change made upon a man by the belief of the gospel, may be thus illustrated : When Lazarus was revived to the enjoy- ment of this mortal life, neither his will nor his power were concerned in the obtaining of life. Yet his life could no otherwise be continued and enjoyed, but in his voluntary exercise of it. As soon as he revived, the principle of self-preservation, with all its hopes and fears, behoved immediately to be set in motion. No sooner was he possess- ed of life, than the active love of it behoved to take place. Accordingly, no sooner does a man begin to know the grace of God in truth, than love to it takes place in his heart. Love is the activity of that life which a man obtains by faith ; for faith worketh by love." But what is all this to the doctrine of working in painful desire and fear, till we come to the enjoyment of life, or the know- ledge that we have life. Lazarus had no principle of self-preservation before he was conscious that he had a self to preserve ; nor had he any love of life before he enjoyed it. In like manner, we can have no love to that grace of God v.e know not, nor desire to preserve that life we never enjoyed. ■' If a man of low conditioti is by a royal patent erniobled, and entitled to a place in the politest assemblies, he cannot enjoy the pleasures of his promotion but in as far as COS A DEFENCE OF he loves and studies to learn the manners suitable to his rank and company." And his motive to this inr.provement of these manners is, that he is promoted to a station he desires to enjoy more perfectly. So we, being called to the adoption of chil- dren by Jesus Christ, toil no more in the way of painful desire and fear to attain to a consciousness of the privilege, but as par- takers of it are influenced thereby. " The apostle John, speaking of obedi- ence to the new commandment of love, says, ' Beloved, if our hearts condemn us not, then have we confidence towards God ;' that is, if, notwithstanding our natural bias against the gospel, with its remaining effects, giving us daily disquiet, our heart condemn us not as destitute of love to that truth which the world hates, then we have confi- dence towards God ; even as much confi- dence as the testimony of our own con- science can give us." This is plainly not the confidence which the truth itself affords a guilty sinner, but confidence " that we are not destitute of love to that truth the world hates." The former is our life, the latter is only an addi- tional corroborating comfort. " Yet this is but one witness, and needs to be supported ; for in this case one may be liable to doubts, lest even his own con- science should be partial in his favour." If we have confidence in Christ by the truth itself as we are guilty sinners ; if lam ••onscious that the truth, or, which is the »»nme thing, my faith, and confidence in it, ^orks by love ; if our hearts condemn us ^»ot in this matter, then have we confidence eJwards God : First, because we are con- •«ious we proceed on divine authority : Se- ^ndly, we prove the blessed effect of the ttfuth. These, then, are two witnesses inse- parably united. The first a divine truth, the testimony of the divine Spirit, than which there cannot be a greater ground of certainty : the latter is the consciousness of the effect of that truth. " Here, then, the Spirit .of truth, who never fails to bear witness to the genuine effects thereof, gives his testimony as a se- cond witness supporting the former. Thus Paul, after he had said, ' As many as are led by the Spirit of God, they are the sons of God,' adds, ' the Spirit itself beareth witness with our spirit, that we are the chil- dren of God.' " The apostle Paul, after he \\aA said, " As many as are led by the Spirit of God, they are the sons of God," adds, " For ye have not received the spirit of bondage again to fear ; but ye have received (i. e. by the gospel truth) the spirit of adoption, whereby we cry Abba, Father." And then follow the words, " The Spirit itself (which ye re- ceived in the hearing of the gospel, imbol- dening us guilty smncrs to cry "Abba, Fa- ther," through the divine righteousness free- ly given to us -. this Spirit received in the gospel) beareth witness with our spirit that we are the children of God," and not of them who deceive themselves with vain thoughts. It is already granted, that "the Spirit of truth never speaks one word or sentence to any person beyond what is written in the Scripture." And what is written in the Scripture, is either the declarations of free salvation to sinners in Jesus Christ, or di- vine assurances of no disappointment to them that believe on Christ, or an account of the genuine effects of faith. In the first we are taught to apply what is said to our- selves as sinners ; In the second, we are encouraged to believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, in assurance of salvation by him, without disappointment : In the last, we are informed of the genuine efiects of this truth, or faith, corresponding to what we find and feel to be true, when we believe according to that which is written. " And this he (i, e. the Spirit) does, by shedding abroad in the heart such an abun- dant sense of the divine love, as leaves no room for, so casts out, the anxious fear of coming short of life everlasting." The love shed abroad in the heart, is that manifested in Christ dying for the un- godly when enemies, and without strength ; not love manifested to the qualified : for " if when we were enemies we were recon- ciled to God by the death of his Son, (given freely unto us,) much more being re • conciled," as is apparent to us in what we believe, and in its genuine effects, wp have a hope (that maketh not ashamed) that " we shall be saved by his life ;" that lie who gave us righteousness while enemies, will save us for ever who are thus reconciled to him. " Thus that love to the truth, which for- merly wrought in a way of painful desire, attended with many fears, is perfected by being crowned with the highest enjoyment it is capable of in this mortal state." I do not read in the Scripture of any love to the truth of the gospel so described. " Herein is love, not that we loved God, (and he crowned us with enjoyment,) but that he loved us, and sent his Son, his only begotten Son, into the world, that we might live through him ;" sent his Son " to be a propitiation for our sins. If we who are of this truth love one another, his love is already perfected in us ; and we have known and believed the love that God hath to us. Herein is our love made perfect. He that feareth," and is not imboldened by the truth to venture his everlasting concerns upon Christ Jesus alone, " is not made perfect in love- We love him because he first loved us, purifying our souls by obeying the THERON AND ASPASIO. 609 truth through the Spirit unto the unfeigned love of the brethren," as its proper and ge- nuine effect. " Jesus Christ, who loved his Father with a perfect heart, even while sorrowful unto death, received the highest proof of his being the beloved Son of God, when, being exalted at the Father's right hand, and being made most blessed with a seuse of his love, he experienced fulness of joy in his presence." But he knew he was the Son of God before he had this highest proof: he, though sorrowful unto death, had none of the anxi- ous fear of coming short of his glory, but was animated by that glory. " For the joy that was set before him, he endured the cross, despising the shame." He received the word in its accomplishment, as the highest confirmation of the veracity of what his Father had spoken. But surely he shewed himself entirely satisfied with the bare testimony, when he answered the tempter, " Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of God." " The report of this draws them who be- lieve it to love him, and suffer for his sake. To such, Jesus Christ promised fellowship with him in the fulness of joy." That fulness of joy must be in the life to come, according to Psalm xvi. 11. For in this life we walk by faith and not by sight ; and hope which is seen is not hope. And it is also acknowledged, that Jesus himself did not enter into this joy till he ceased from this world. John XV. 10, 11. " If ye keep my com- mandments, ye shall abide in my love, even as I have kept my Father's commandments, and abide in his love. These things have I spoken unto you, that my joy might remain in you, and that your joy might be full." The commandments here spoken of are, to believe, and love, for the truth's sake. The love and joy is that which is manifested by the word in this life, and which neither " life, nor death, nor angels, nor principali- ties, nor powers," nor any kind of suffering or affliction, shall be able to separate us from. Nevertheless, we yet but hope for the ful- ness of joy that Jesus is now arrived at, with " hope that maketh not ashamed," but animates us to be followers of Jesus, " en- during the cross, despising the shame." " When the saving truth first shines in the hearts of men, the effect is suitable to the divine promise, Jer. xxxii. 40. ' I will put my fear in their hearts, that they shall not depart from me.' This fear, dwelling in their hearts, checks and recalls them when ready to be utterly led away by their former evil inclinations. They are preserved from falling away, by the fear of falling away." This is no more that a fear of caution, consistent with the utmost confidence of the sufficiency of Christ, and the veracity and faithfulness of God ; consistent with a firm persuasion, that nothing shall "be able to separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord." The slavish fear which ariseth from uncertainty, and is seeking after a differencing something to re- move our torment, is so far from preserving us from falling, that it is rather a proof we are not satisfied with the sufficient righte- ousness, with the sufficient ground of faith and hope, and have at present no part or lot in the matter. " It is evident, that to have the Holy Spirit as the Comforter and earnest of the heavenly inheritance, is an attainment far be- yond any influences of the Spirit that are common to those who believe for a time, and those who believe to the saving of the soul ; yea, beyond the regenerating work of the Spirit, by which men are at first brought to the knowledge of the truth, and taught to love it." " To find by experience (in the effects of the report on our minds) the truth of what they formerly believed on testimony," (which is what Palaemon declares himself to mean,) is certainly an attainment of another kind than the joy and comfort of the truth itself. But that a conscious certainty, that " I de- pend on the promise of Christ, and run all hazards for his sake," is what the Scripture means by the Comforter and earnest of the heavenly inheritance, does not so evidently appear : because, I. This is not taking of things of Christ, but taking of our things, and shewing them to us : 2. It is not the Spirit's bearing witness itself with our spi- rits, but bearing witness by the medium of our obedience : 3. It would be speaking more to us than what is written in the Scripture ". 4. This consciousness, and the joy accompanying it, was an attainment of the people of God before the resurrection of Christ, as really as it has been since : whereas the Comforter promised was to be the consequence of Christ's ascension to his Father, and was first performed on the day of Pentecost, Acts ii. 33 : Lastly, To wait for an attainment far beyond the knowledge of the truth, or which is the same thing, of the power of Christ's resurrection, serves, in fact, to set aside that resurrection as insuf- ficient, so to deny the one thing needful. More especially, as according to Palaemon, " It (this supposed attainment) must be distinguished from any joy or spiritual de- light which necessarily attends the obtaining of faith, or is beginning to work by love." And " that it is vain and absurd to caU men to be assured of their being children of God, when they are not enjoying it. That it cannot further appear that any man has known the grace of God in truth, than he 2r 610 A DEFENCE OF gives all diligence to the end, in order to ob- tain it." Now the grand arcanum in Palae- mon's doctrine is, How a man can live en- tirely by the one thing needful, and yet be so diligently employed in labouring for so im- portant a something more 9 " It is also plain, that the promise of the Spirit, as the Comforter, is common to all those who follow the faith and practice of the apostles." It is plain they were comforted by the Spirit of God, in the joy of the truth con- cerning Jesus the Saviour of sinners ; and had also the additional comfort of those confirming declarations concerning the chil- dren of God and their blessings, which are recorded for that purpose. But that we are taught to wait for any other attainment, imder the name of the Spirit as the Com- forter, does not appear. " Their (the Jews) appropriation was the great spring of all their pride, of all their disaffection to the true gospel, and all their The Jews' appropriation was upon the ground of the difference between themselves and others ; which we readily agree has this effect. That the more men excelled in this way, they proved the more hardened ene- mies to the true God, and the eternal hap- piness of mankind. But what is this for an objection to that appropriation which proceeds entirely on the free grant of heaven to the guilty, excluding all such dif- ference ? Aspasio is still left to affirm o£ his appropriation. That nothing will be so powerful to produce holy love and willing obedience, to exalt our desires, and enable us to overcome the world. Who stands nighest to the Jewish appro- priation, Aspasio or Palsemon ? Aspasio, who in Dialogue 16 compares "those who advise us to prove our title to comfort by genuine marks of conversion, and teach us on this column to fix the capital of assur- ance, unto those who would fix the dome of a cathedral upon the stalk of a tulip ?" or Palsemon, who judges this " talking pro- fanely ?" Neither do I see how this is talk- ing profanely, until it is first proved, that the marks whereby we [suppose ourselves entitled to comfort rather than others, are the Deity in which we are to put our trust. Aspasio rightly judges, that this is placing a most weighty affair upon that most slight and uncertain foundation, what we feel or do, instead of the Rock Christ, given to guilty sinners. Does not the Holy Ghost prove a Comforter, by manifesting to us guilty sinners " the things that are freely given of God ; taking of the things of Christ, and shewing them to us ?" And must not every genuine mark of conversion have its foundation here ? " ' He that heareth my word, and belipv. eth on him that sent me, hath everlastir^ life, and shall not come into condemnation, but is passed from death to life.' John v. 24, Here we see how men pass from death to life." The word that Jesus hath spoken, and the declaration the Father hath made, is the first and surest ground of undeceivable cer- tainty. The dependence hereon proceeds entirely on the truth and faithfulness of God ; and that dependence is the assurance we have pleaded for ; and they who thus depend, our Lord declares, have everlasting lift, are already passed from death to life. " Here we see how men pass from death to life. John declares how they come to know this, while plainly pointing at the words of Jesus, he says, ' We know that we are passed from death to life, because we love the brethren.' " There is no foundation for the distinction here made by P?J8emon, viz. " That our Lord only declares how men pass from death to life," and John " only declares how they come to know this." It is plain, that our Lord's declaration runs in the same strain with that of his disciple. Our Lord says. He that heareth my word " is passed from death unto life." John says, He that loveth the brethren " is passed from death unto life." Where is the difference? Both are declarations of who are passed from death to life, therefore both alike in that re- spect. Our Lord intimates the life-giving word, the matter believed by all who are passed from death to life ; his disciple inti- mates the proper and genuine effect of that word on all who believe. " We know," says John, we have an additional proof, that the word of Jesus is true, " that we are passed from death unto life, because we love the brethren." It is plain that they abide still in death who abide in the hating, murdering spirit of the world ; and more especially, who cannot love them who are of the truth for the truth's sake. On the other hand, the uniting, life-giving tendency of the truth appears to us, who -are of it, since it causeth us thus to love one another for the truth's sake ; and proves, what Jesus said, that " he that heareth his word, and be- lieveth on him that sent him, is passed from death to life." Jesus saith. He is passed from death to life " that heareth my word, and believeth on him that sent me." John saith, " We know he has passed from death to life who loves the brethren." The only difference is, Jesus declares the privilege by that whereby we enjoy it ; John gives proof in the love of the brethren, as a demonstrative effect that Jesus' words are true. .- " By this proof men come to know that the joy they had upon their first believing was not the joy of the hypocrite." The ;oy true believers have on their first T HERON AND ASPASIO. 611 believing, is the joy of the truth. If that we rejoice in is found to be true, our joy is proved genuine. " And so their joy is made full." Our joy is not made full by a discovery of itself, but by farther confirmations of that truth which begat and supports it. The believer gives an account of 'his faith and joy, when he gives an account of what he believes and rejoices in. And it is made full by a farther supply or confirmation of the truth and faithfulness of God, on which he depends. " By this they come to know it was the genuine truth of God, and not any human counterfeit and corruption of it, which they at first believed." The genuine truth of God makes itself manifest to be such at our first believing, 1 Thess. ii. 13, 1 John i. 10, and thereby begets faith, joy, and every other effect. He that waits for such efiect, to know whe- ther he has the genuine truth or no, may finish his inquiry by reminding himself, that he is in this inquiry very evidently but upon the search, and therefore has not found truth as yet. He may also be convinced that his search is wrong and preposterous, as if a man that should make an inquiry after what was proper food, should, instead thereof, be waiting to know, by certain ef- fects, whether he had ate any or no. Tiie noble Bereans inquired after truth, by searching the Scripture, to see whether " these things were so ; therefore (it is added) many of them believed." The truth was made manifest unto them as the truth of God.'? And when this was the case, they did not wait for the joy of it, with its effects, to know whether it was so or no. " Thus they receive an additional know- ledge and certainty about the truth, in the way of experience, by perceiving that it works eifectually in them, producing its ge- nuine effects." If the experience of the eflfects of the genuine gospel produces only an additional knowledge and certainty from experience, as the first knowledge and certainty came by divine evidence of the truth itself; this is all we plead for, then we are again agreed. " As often as the apostles speak of their interest in Christ, and life eternal, or use any language to that effect, we shall find that they either speak of themselves sepa- rately, or in conjunction with those only who are possessed of. the same unfeigned faith and love with them." ' That the apostles wrote their epistles to professed beUevers, may be very readily ad- mitted. As, on the other hand, that the apostles did not live by Christ alone, under the notion and view of themselves as guilty tiiuieri- bu* iulv through a mediunti o: dis- covery of their own faith, lOve, &c. will be very difiicult to be proved, however confi- dently asserted. " ' Hereby we,' who love the brethren, ' perceive the love of God, because he laid down his life for us.' We, who are consci- ous of the effects, and enjoy the fruits of the atonement, know that God first loved us, and had a particular regard to us in provid- ing the atonement." The effects and fruits of the atonement are, sinners' peace with God, their access to the holiest of all thereby ; if it is allowed that we enjoy and are conscious of these, we are again agreed. But if Palaemon means only being conscious of "working in the way of painful desire and fear, till we are crowned with enjoyment," there cannot be a plainer deviation from the intent of the apostle. The apostle says, " Hereby per- ceive we the love of God, because he laid down his life for us." Palaemon says, Hereby perceive we the love of God, be- cause we are conscious of the effects, and enjoy the fruits of the atonement. The apostles lead us to think he laid down his life for us, who were justly doomed to eter- nal death. Palaemon leads us to think he laid down his life for us who can say, God, 1 thank thee I am not as other men ; " who can find some reason about themselves, why all the great things spoken and done by Je- sus should bear its peculiar direction to- wards them." Besides, how does it appear we love the brethren, when those we call so are seeking the reason of their hope, certainty, and as- surance of eternal life, wholly in their own love and obedience ; consequently are not in this respect the despised few, but of the same mind and judgment with every natural man ? " He who, perceiving the divine love to sinners of all sorts without distinction, ma- nifested in the atonement, is thereby led to love the atonement, and the divine character appearing there ; and so to enjoy the pro- mised comfort resulting thence to the obe- dient." If the promised comfort is suspended for want of obedience, or depends on obedience as its condition, the divine love is far from being manifested to sinners of all sorts with- out distinction. "• And thus, by happily experiencing the truth of the gospel." He does not experience the truth of the gospel, but only the effect of that doctrine that tells him, if he is willing and obedient he shall eat the good of the land : Whereas, the truth of the gospel, relieving the guilty without condition, animates thereby to all the obedience it calls for. " So he labours neither first nor last to acquire any requisite to justification ; but all his labour proceeds on the persuasion 612 A DEFENCE OF that the atonement itself is the sole and suf- ficient requisite to justification." All his labour proceeds on the persuasion, that however sufficient the atonement may be for the elect, yet he is not allowed to account it of any use to him a sinner, or to trust or depend upon it, but to be at an en- tire uncertainty about it, until he discovers his works of obedience to such a degree as to conceive himself to be an elect person. " So he knows that all his holiness, as well as all his happiness, comes entirely of that grace which provided the atonement." Far from it ; all his holiness, as well as all his happiness, according to Palaemon's representation, comes entirely of the painful desire and fear, lest he should- have no part in that grace which provided the atonement- " The merchant who, being encouraged by some credible intelligence Providence has favoured him with from an unexpected quarter, sets out at all hazards on some new branch of traffic, will be greatly ani- mated to proceed when he finds his labours crowned with success." But our obtaining salvation is not like a trading merchant setting out at all hazards on a new branch of traffic. This is salvation by works indeed ! JMatt. xiii. 45 describes the merchant as finding one pearl of great price, which puts an end to all future mer- chandising. " He who so knows the bare report there- of, as to love it, and to run all risks upon it, shall in nowise lose his reward." True ; but Palaemon's Christian rather runs all risks in order to know his part in the atonement, than on the accosnt of the bare report of salvation to the guilty. " The passages in the Dialogues which appear to me to deserve the greatest cen- sure, are those two which in a very confi- dent manner deny, the one, the comfort at- tending the simple report of the gospel, and the other, the additional comfort attending the self-denied obedience to it." These passages have been considered, and it appears that neither are denied, but confirmed by Aspasio's doctrine. We pro- ceed on the report in appropriation ; so it is the very basis of our comfort. We are confirmed by the effect of the enjoyment, that our enjoyment, or the foundation of it, is not a fancy. " And all this is' done, in order to rest, I cannot say our comfort, but a good opi- nion of our state, on what is neither faith nor obedience." Not so ; but to rest our souls on Christ alone, and neither on our faith, obedience, nor good opinion of our state. " For, according to the popular doctrine, men living for a course of years together in unbelief, consequently neither loving the gospel nor enjoying the comfort of it, are allowed to consider themselves all the while as regenerate, provided they have once in their lifetime exerted a certain act." It may be so according to the popular doctrine ; but according to the unpopular doctrine, which Palsemon excepts against, we depend upon no acts but the perfect obedience of Christ. " 1 shall now take some notice of a trea- tise highly esteemed by the votaries of the popular doctrine ; I mean, The Gospel Mystery of Sanctification." This book was so far from being highly esteemed by the votaries of the popular doctrine in England, it was hardly known till Aspasio recommended it, and since that disapproved of by many devout people, be- cause, 1. It proves that the most earnest desires and endeavours after obedience to the law, may be in the natural state of man : '2. That the new life, new state, or new creation, is inseparably in Christ ; so that we have no such privilege, but in enjoying Christ himself through the report of the gospel : 3. That there is no furniture for the obedience of love, but in partaking of this reconciliation or new state in Christ : 4. That no conditions or performances are to be placed between the sinner and the Saviour; but the first step of practical reli- gion is to trust on Christ alone, as given to us for the sure enjoyment of himself and his salvation. " This author supposes his unconverted reader, when beginning to be concerned about religion, to propose for this end such an obedience to the divine law as may be acceptable to God." He rightly supposes, that men who are yet in their natural state, may attain with great zeal to great heights of legal obedience, and, as Paul and others, be very earnest after it, counting it their truest gain ; and, like Paul, at the same time totally unac- quainted with, yea, enemies unto, real Chris- tianity, and the obedience of love to the truth, and to God manifested thereby. " According to this author, then, Christ is not the end of the law for righteousness, but the best means one can make use of for enabling him to perform that righteous- ness which js the end of the law." He, as the apostle does, directs unto that love which is the fulfilling of the law, by the enjoyment of that righteousness which is the end of it, by enjoying that new state of peace and reconciliation with God which is inseparably in Christ : or, in fact, his view is to recommend the gospel of our Lord Jesus as a principle of obedience, in opposition' to that preliminary grace, which, as Palsemon well says, " However much it has been Christianized, is at bottom the same thing with that divine afflatus, influ- ence, or energy, by which it was supposed THERON AND ASPASIO. 613 philosophers and heroes of old became good and great men." " A ccordingly the well-disposed reader is led forward to his desired end, in conse- quence of the same good dispositions that led him to use the means." Not so ; however fair the directions may seem to promise, at first, to him that is na- turally desirous to keep the law that he may live ; yet no man is made a disciple to these directions, but by being converted from this false hope to the hope of the gospel. No man is disposed to use the means of recon- ciliation with God by Christ alone as a principle of obedience, but he that is con- verted from the false hope of obtaining life by any obedience he can render, to live alone by what Christ hath already done, as the spring of his hope, swid the source of his future obedience. " But why all this roundabout course ? Why should we seek to repress any man's impetuosity to fulfil the law ? Why should we retard his course, by entangling him in a labyrinth about the use of means ?" Men, naturally desirous to keep the law that they may live, maj, and do, as Mr. Marshall observes, " rush blindly upon im- mediate practice, making more haste than good speed, crying with Israel of old. All that the Lord saith, we will do. At the same time there is no such heart in them." But through a natural propensity to things which are contrary to the divine law, they continually fail in the obedience they have so strongly purposed. " And some of these, when they have mispent many years in striving against the stream of their lusts, without any success, do at last fall misera- bly into despair, and turn to wallow in the mire of their lusts, or are fearfully swallow- ed up with horror of conscience." As all their religion, or impetuosity to fulfil the law, is founded on a miserable mistaken hope to live by their own obedience, so Mr. Marshall's aim is to throw down that " false hope," by proving that there can be no obe- dience acceptable to God, till we are first made " accepted in the Beloved ;" or, in other words, till we first live by Christ's obedience alone, and are influenced there- by. His hope to live by his own obedi- ence is criminal ; it is therefore no matter how soon we repress his impetuosity, and retard his course ; and when he understands his reconciliation with God by Christ alone to be the principle or means of gospel obe- dience, he will not be entangled in a laby- rinth, but made free by the Son of God. " As for the gospel, it was only intended to relieve those ill-disposed people who despair of ever doing any thing to render them acceptable to God, by any assistance whatsoever." And Mr, Marshall's design is to shew, that those well-disposed people woo hope to live by their own obedience, are, in fact, at the same time, those ill-disposed people, who will never be really obedient till they despair of ever doing any thing to render them ac- ceptable to God, by any assistance whatso- ever ; and in that despair of themselves, live alone by what Christ has already done. " It (the gospel) was never intended to be an auxiliary to those good people who are desirous to give acceptable obedience to the divine law." But it was intended to remove their mis- take, that they may be obedient from a more divine principle ; that is, reconciliation with God by Christ alone. And this, it is evident, is the main design of Mi". Marshall. " All such, who are desirous to give ac- ceptable obedience to the divine Jaw, wheresoever they are, shall undoubtedly be happy without having any occasion to trou- ble their heads about the gospel." All such who are of this character uni- formly, and without contradiction. But it must be allowed, that there are many, even every natural man has a propensity to live by his own obedience, or to do, that he may live. At the same time, he is desirous of those things which are contrary to that obedience, whereby he forfeits the charac- ter and becomes guilty before God. " Let us now observe the use of means to which our author directs : — Endeavour diligently to perform the great work of be- lieving on Christ." That is, in Mr. Marshall's sense, endea- vour diligently to live by Christ alone, to be satisfied with him, to assure your sou! of salvation by him, by what he has done and suffered ; that you may in this way have a personal conscious enjoyment of him and his fulness, in which fulness we enjoy re- conciliation with God, and every blessing tending to the obedience of love. Was Palsemon to direct to personal conscious en- joyment of Christ, he would tell us about working diligently, working in the way of painful desire and fear, till we were crowned with enjoyment in a conviction that we were distinguished from others, by having faith, love, and self-denied obedience. Where lies the difference between the two, but that the latter says. Do that you may live, that you may be crowned with enjoyment: The other says, Live by Christ, that you may do : Enjoy as sinners, that you live as saints. " It is necessary that we should endea- vour it, (t. e. to believe on Christ,) and that before we find the Spirit of God working faith efl'ectuallyin us, or givingstrength to believe." Mr. Marshall here considers faith as a duty required by the law, which Paltemon also asserts. At the same time, he so ex- plains himself, as it is evident faith neither justifies nor sanctifies as a duty but by 614 A DEFENCE OF Christ alone believed in : And it is also evident he means not the divine passive conviction, but an obedience to the apos- tolic exhortation, a " trusting on a Saviour, as discovered by a testimony, which (as he says) is properly believing on him." He opposes, at the same time, the po- pular notion, that we must wait for God to give us something called faith, before we are to attempt to believe, or to live by his righteousness ; whereas, in whomsoever faith is wrought, they immediately live by Christ alone ; they wait for nothing, they see nothing to be waited for ; but they see Christ's sufficient work, and the grant of it to the guilty, a sufficient ground for imme- diate trust and confidence. " Only (says Mr. Marshall) I shall prove that we are bound by the command of God thus to assure ourselves ; and the Scripture does sufficiently warrant us, that we shall not deceive ourselves in believing a lie ; but according to our faith, so shall it be to us. Matt. ix. 29. Here (says Pa- laemon) is the great whirlpool of the popu- lar doctrine." A very great mistake to call this the po- pular doctrine ; whereas Mr. W d, Mr. W y, and numbers more, such as have been named, are full as great adversaries to it as himself. Nor is any point more uni- versally opposed, than that of assuring our- selves of salvation only from the grant of a sufficient righteousness in Jesus Christ to the guilty. " When we have thus, according to our author, wrought ourselves into anew state." This representation is not just : would it be proper, when a man receives a present, or gift, to say that he works himself into it ? It is true, he may meet with some op- position in the enjoyment of that which is freely given him. And in this case the Scripture prevents Paloemon's reflection, by exhorting us to work out our own salva- tion, &c. " According to him, there is no practice of holiness, but what proceeds from the per- suasion of our state being changed." Rather from our persuasion of our recon- ciliation with God by Christ alone, arising, not from the conceit of our being better than others, or having done something towards it, but as given freely in Christ Jesus. " This persuas:on (of his state being changed) is his faith." No such matter. Mr. Marshall's doc- trine, or the truth believed in, his faith is, tiiat there is a new state prepared in Christ for the griilty, which we are divinely au- thorized to enter into and enjoy, without any works at all ; as, on the other hand, PalEemon's doctrine leaves him working in painful desire and fear, till he be crowned with enjoyment. " If we hearken to this author, we must set out in the service of God, from the con- fidence of our being in a better state than other men." Is it not highly consistent that we should set out in the service of God, with the fur- niture God hath provided us ? If God hath given to us eternal life in his Son, is not our first obedience to receive and enjoy the eternal life that is in him ? This does not consist in any persuasion that we are better than other people, that there is any new state in Christ for us rather than for others ; but it consists purely in what is inseparably in Christ Jesus, given to us in him, and only to be enjoyed in enjoying him. So that the whole is, we must set out as fol- lowers of our Lord, from the confidence of the eternal life given freely to us in Christ Jesus. " He makes no account of the grand things testified of Christ, as any way suffi- cient to lead us to holiness, without a good opinion of our own state." Palffimon should say, if he would give a just representation, that Mr. Marshall makes no account of all that holiness which is not influenced by the reception and enjoyment of that new state, and eternal life, which is fi'eely given to the guilty in Christ Jesus, Meanwhile, the opinion we have of our own state is, that it is stark naught, and cannot be mended. This is far from having a good opinion of it. '* Thus the ancient gospel, which, from the beginning, turned many from idols to serve the living God, is now set aside." The ancient gospel held forth the new state, and eternal life given in Christ, which we plead for. I have nothing to say in defence of my self from the charge of patronizing my creed by the names of fallible men. I acknow- ledge my fault. If I have not the doctrine of the apostles, what signifies having all the world on my side? And if I have them to keep me in countenance, it ought to be little concern though the wholev\'orld are against me. " The use these people fi. e. the people in fellowship with W. C'.) have for Christ is, to give them strength to do something toward their justification." Our appropriation stands in no opposi- tion to free justification by Christ alone, but rather to Palsemon's coming to the knowledge of it only in a way of painful de- sire and fear. But Paliemon's main objection to this re- ception or appropriation of Christ, and eter- nal life in him, is, that "this is doing some- thing toward our justification." To what has been already said, I would only add the following illustration : — A man has a large estate fallen to him by inheritance or legacy; he is now informed that he need do nothing THERON AND ASPASIO 615 toward his maintenance at all, for he has a sufficiency to live upon, and that it would dishonour his benefactor, and be a disgrace to him to think of it. The man believes tills, and accordingly sits down to a plenti- ful table provided, under a notion that all things being ready, he has nothing to do but to eat or enjoy. Upon this, a virtuoso in criticism, like Palaemon, informs him, that to eat is to do something towards his maintenance ; that the victuals, and in short every thing is his, without any act of his at all. So that, if he imagines himself under any necessity of eating, he dishonours his benefactor, and denies the estate his bene- factor has given to him, as though it was not in itself enough to maintain him, with- out doing something toward his own main- tenance. What answer would this person in all likelihood return ? Very probably he would say. You speak extremely absurd ; for if I eat not, all my right and title to it will be of no service to me : I starve, I die in the midst of plenty : Besides, I love to eat. The case is as parallel as possible : Our Lord says. He is " the bread of God come down from heaven, to give life to the world ; and that except we eat the flesh of the Son of man, and drink his blood, we have no life in us." This objection of Palsemon's is such a fine-spun cobweb of criticism, that he seems to have catched himself in it, while he was endeavouring to entangle us. " Is it possi- ble (says he,) after what we have seen, for any one to maintain, that these people look for acceptance with God, only through the sacrifice of Christ once offered for the sins of many ?" Now, to look for acceptance with God only through the sacrifice of Christ, is the very thing we plead for, and he has been opposing. His argument has been, " The sacrifice of Christ is sufficient of itself. To appropriate, or to look for acceptance with God on that account, is evidently to do something towards our justification ; this is to set up in its stead another sacrifice of their own preparing and offering. " He who maintains that we are justifi- ed only by faith, and at the same time af- He who maintains that we are justified only by faith, and at the same time af- firms with Palaemon, " That faith is a principle of life and action," undoubtedly maintains, if he has any meaning to his words, that we are justified by a principle of life and action ? The answer that re- treives him out of this difficulty, will also serve us. I have now considered all that I appre- hend we are concerned with in Mr. Sande- man's performance, not with a design to manifest his blemishes, or to defend Aspa- sio's, but to preserve the important truth he contended for from the objections aris- ing through evident mistakes and misrepre- sentations. Not pleading for a manner of believing, either active or passive, buc pleading against the private interpretation of those divine declarations, which are the sinner's only ground of immediate trust and confidence in that sufficient righteousness. It is no pleasure to me to find a people to whom my heart inclines on account of their appearing attachment to this sufficiency of Christ, at the same time so inclined to ex- plain away those divine declarations, and tell us, that " God may, if he pleases, have mercy upon me," is all the conclusion that the guilty and destitute can draw from what God has revealed. Now., in this case, are we not to take heed, lest, under the notion of purer faith, " we depart from trusting in the living God," (to a la«bouring in pain- ful desire and^fear) " through an evil heart of unbelief?" And as there is a natural propensity in man to self-dependence, is there not a proportionate averseness in him to trust on the bare declarations of the di- vine word ? And may not this be the source of those Pharisaic attempts Mr. Sandeman has so justly detected, of the ob- jections that stand between us ; and also of those laboured inventions of others, to make out that men are saved by Christ in a way of natural necessary connexion ; hereby at once setting aside the divine sovereignty, declarations, promises, or trust therein. I shall only add, that if what we have plead- ed for is (without misrepresentation) prov- ed a contradiction to the sufficiency of the firms with Aspasio, that faith is a work finished work of Christ, then, and not till exerted by the human mind, undoubt- 1 then, I shall see a necessity for understand- ly maintains, if he has any meaning to his j ing the Scriptures on this subject in an- words, that we are justified by a work ex- other light than I do at present, and shall erted by the human mind." i make my public acknowledgment accord- May not Aspasio as readily retort, ingly 616 AMENDMENTS PROPOSED IN DIRECTIONS To the Readers o/'Theron and Aspasio, with respect to the Amendments which were in- tended by Mr. Hekvey, had he survived another Edition Taken from Mh. Cud- worth's Defence. Page 315. c.l, 1. 44. read, "This, lie says, as itwas wroughtinthe name andsteadofthe guilty, enemies and rebellious, was wrought out in my name, and in my stead ; and is in a name and character that undoubtedly belongs to me, and, according to the decla- rations of divine grace, sufficiently author- izes me to draw near to God thereby." P. 416. c. 2. 1. 54. "Not one among all the numberless productions which tread the ground, or stand rooted on the soil, wants any convenience that is proper for its re- spective state. And the same heavenly Father has provided, for the most guilty, the righteousness which is absolutely neces- sary to his present comfort, and bis final happiness. " P. 417. c. 1. 1. 17. "Consider those stately poppies, &c. observe the young ravens, &c. He accommodates the former, though in- capable of asking ; he attends to the latter, though insensible of their Benefactor. He also regards our pressing wants ; he has also superseded our earnest petitions by such free and unmerited gifts, as it is both his delight and his honour to bestow." P. 417. c. 2. 1. .35. " So that nothing is re- quired in order to our participation of Christ and his benefits. We receive them as the freest gifts ; as matter of mere grace." P. 418. c. 1. 1. 31. " The man without a wedding garment, &c. Your former mis- takes, and present objections, tend to place you in the state of this unhappy creature. The returning prodigal came with no re- commendation either of dress, of person, or of character : None but his nakedness and misery ; his acknowledgment and vile- ness, which had every aggravating, not one extenuating circumstance-" P. 418. c. 2/}. 27. " If there be any quali- fication, I think it is our extreme indigence ; and this, I presume, you are not without." P. 418. C.2. 1. 50. "Sanctification,heavenly- mindedness, and a victory over our lusts, are not the qualities he requires, but the bless- ings which he confers." P. 419. c.2.1. 40. " The greatest unworthi- ness is no objection in Christ's account ; it is as much disavowed by the gospel, as equi- vocal generation is exploded by the disco- veries of our improved philosophy" P. 420. c. 2. 1. 30. " From the Kh.s,u-hoflietire of One shall many be made righteous.' " By the works of the law sliall no man living be justified," was not long ago the subject of a public discourse ; and, I hope, has frequently been the subject of our private consideration. O that the important truth may be written most intelligibly upon our hearts, and beget in us a sound humility and an evangelical poverty of spirit ! We then pulled up the wrong foundation ; and now permit me to establish the right. We then warned you of the sandy foundation ; and now permit me to lead you to the Rock of ages, where you may safely repose all your confi- dences, and build with the utmost security for a blissful eternity. This is pointed out in the scripture before us ; which, though concise in its expressions, is rich and co- pious in its meanings, and breathes the veiy spirit of the gospel. " By the obedience of One shall many be made righteous." The One mentioned in the text, is the man CJirist Jesus. The obedi- ence, spoken of, includes both his active and passive obedience ; the labours of his life, and the agonies of his death : all which he exercised and suifered in conformity to his Father's will, for the sake of fallen men ; that they, by his righteousness, might be made righteous ; that, having these creden- tials, they may be admitted into the court of heaven ; and carrying this passport, may be admitted into " the everlasting habitations." This doctrine I take to be the most sweet and precious part of our Christian faith ; that which gives the most pure and undivid- ed honour to God ; which jdelds the most reviving and solid comfort to the sinner ; and in the most endeaiing and effectual man- ner promotes every interest of holiness. But as much as it is little understood by some, entirely exploded by others, and scarce ever thought upon by more ; let us crave your impartial attention while I clear up and confirm it : and not only crave your atten- tion, brethren, but implore the renewing and enlightening influence of divine grace ; with.- out which, I am aware, my words will be unintelligible to some, and appear, perhaps, ridiculous to others ; for " the natural man discerneth not the things which are of the Spirit of God ;'" on the contrary, " they are foolishness unto him." Depending, there- fore, on divine grace, let us examine, I. How the obedience o( another can make us righteous. II. How sufficient Christ's obedience is for this purpose. III. How worthy this method of becom- ing righteous is of all acceptation ; and then, IV. Give some few directions, that may dispose us to rely on, and prepare us to re- ceive the righteousness of Jesus Christ. I. Let us examine how the obedience of another can make us righteous. This point may be proved and illustrated, 1 . From the nature of a surety. •2. From Christ's dpiig as a .tinmr for us. 3. From Adam's sin being imputed to us. I . The doctrine of our being made right- eous through the obedience of Christ, may be proved and illustrated from the nature of a surety, who is one that undertakes and en- gages for another. Let us suppose the par- 2 s &J' .AIANY MADE RIGHTEOUS ties were Paul and Onosiiniis. Oiiesimus was Philemon's slave. The slave disobey- ed his master, ran away from him and his service. Not only deserted his service, but stole his goods ; turned fugitive and thief at once. For the first of these crimes he deserves stripes and a rod ; for the liist, death and the gallows. St. Paul meet- ing with Onesimus, learns the state of his condition ; and, having been the means of liis conversion to Christianity by his preach- ing, and of his reconciliation to God through Jesus Christ, offers to become his mediator with his offended master. In order to exe- cute which office more effectually, he puts iiimself in the criminal's stead, becomes answerable for his villany, and takes u])on him to make full reparation for the injuries iie had done to his master : " If he hath wronged thee ought," says the beneficent apostle, "or owetli thee ought, put that to thy account ; I Paul haye written it \vith mine own hand, I will repay it." By this means, the renegade slave is discharged, and Paul the iiniocent apostle becomes debtor. ]iut how? Not actually but imputatively ; (or neither has Onesimus repaid, nor Paul stolen ought ; but, by virtue of the under- taken suretyship, Onesimus's debt lies upon Paul, and Paul's freedom turns to the ac- (luittance of Onesimus. Thus it is in the matter of justification. We had all sinned in Adam ; forfeited the f .vour of God. In order to our reconcile- ment, God required a full satisfaction to his justice, and a perfect obedience to his laws. These we could not possibly render in our own persons ; therefore, Christ graciously presented himself, and undei'took to perform both in our stead. Upon me, says the com- passionate Redeemer, upon vie be their of- fences laid. If they have transgressed, let vengeance make its demands on me ; I will repay to the very utmost farthing ; and for- asmuch as through the weakness of their mortal nature, they are not able to yield an exact conformity to the divine laws, I am willing to " fulfil all righteousness," in their stead and behalf. '• Lo ! I come to do thy will, O my God !" I do it, not for myself, but for them, that the merit of my obe- dience may redound to my people, and that they, through my righteousness, may be made righteous. 2. The doctrine of our being made right- eous through Christ, may be inferred from his dying as a sinnes for us. It is a very rem^ELable passage, and full to our purpose, where the apostle declares, that the Al- mighty Father made his Son, " who knew no sin, to be sin for us, that we might be made the righteousness of God in him." How you may be affected at present with such a scripture, brethren, I cannot deter- mine ; but if ever you come to the k'io>' ledge of yourselves, ami the heinousness of your sins, and the wortlilessness of your du- ties, such a text will be sweeter to you than the honey or the honey-comb to your taste, and more refreshing than the richest cordial to your souls. However, from St. Paul's declaration, we gather this precious truth, that we are made righteous before God, in such a manner as Christ was made a sinner for us : not by any personal demerit ; for he had done no sin, neither was guile found in his mouth ; but " the Lord laid on him the iniquities of us all." In like manner, how are the greatest saints made righteous before God ? Not by any personal merit. They have done no- thing that can deserve God's love, or that is worthy of a reward ; but God looks upon them as interested in his dear Son's obedi- ence, and so rewards them purely for their Saviour's sake. God visited our sins upon him ; and God rewards his merits upon us : God accounted our transgressions to be his ; and, on this footing, he was punished as a malefactor : and God esteems his righteousness as ours ; and by virtue of this imputation, we are accepted as complete. 3. Once again, the doctrine of our being made righteous through the obedience of Christ, may receive stronger proofs and fuller illustrations from Adam's sin being imputed unto us. This is an undoubted truth, written, as it were, with a sunbeam in almost every page of Sciipture. St. Paul assures us that " in Adam all die." And if so, it is certain, that in Adam all sinned. Tell me now, how came that per- sonal sin of Adam to be charged upon us ? how can his having eaten the forbidden fruit, render us liable to death and damnation ? How, but by imputation ? Adam was a public person ; he represented the whole race of mankind ; his act was imputed to his whole posterity. Such a communion there is between Christ and his elect : he, too, was a public person ; he was a repre- sentative of all his chosen ones ; and his obedience is looked upon as theirs. Thus believers are made righteous by the obedi- ence of their everlasting head, Christ Jesus, even as they were made sinners by the transgression of their mortal father, Adam ; because T)f the analogy and similitude there is between his righteousness to justify, and Adam's iniquity to condemn.* » Mr. Hervey seems here to have had an eve to 1 Cor. XV. 23. "For as in. Adam all die, even so in Christ shall all be made alive." Thg "^i^yri:, or all, affirmed by the apostle to have died in Adam, are the same -ffavni, or all, that shall be made alive in Christ; namely, all the members of Christ's mystic body ; all that church which he loved, and for which hegavehimself to death. There are two reasons, in particular, which determine the meaning of the wor 1 ail, in this passage, to the elect, and to them only : 1. Throu;^hout the whole context St. Paul treats solely of the first resurrection ; the resurrection of the jusr. BY THE OBEDIENCE OF ONE. G27 Let Ui5 now miike a jmiisc, and review our attempt. We have endeavoured to ren- der the doctrine of the text somewhat clear- er, by considering the nature of a surety, from Christ's being made " sin for us," and from the " imputation of Adam's offence" to us. But these, alas ! are points little known to the world. Corrupt nature is prejudiced against them, and Satan is stu- dious to hide ihem from our eyes. Let us beseech " the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ" to reveal the "mystery of godliness " in our hearts, that we may be- lieve in Jesus Christ as the Sou of God, and only Saviour of the world ; " and that believing, we may have life," not through any fancied goodness of our own, but en- tirely " through his name." II. Let us now just take notice, how sufficient Christ's obedience is for the pur- pose of justification. It is a most incom- parably excellent obedience : it exceeds not only the righteousness of innocent and up- right Adam, but the righteousness of an- gels, principalities, and powers. Extol this righteousness as high as woi'ds can reach, or ideas soar ! for it is the righteousness of incarnate Divinity; wrought out by him who was God and man in one Christ ,- whose divine nature gave an infinity, both of efficacy and of dignity, to all he did. " To you that believe " the Godhead of Je- sus, his righteousness must needs be incon- ceivably precious : you will not, you cannot think it strange, that a whole world of be- lievers should be accepted through it, and owe all their salvation to it. The prophet, in the most express terms, sets his seal to this truth when he affirms, that the Lord, the supreme and incomprehensible ./e/- most enraged enemies, and say with the Psal- mist, " Though an host of men should en- camp against me, yet shall not my heart be afraid," Psalm xxvii. 3. Then may we look backward to the late desolating cardu quake, and say with the believers of " God is our refuge and strength, therefore will we not fear, though the earth be re- moved, and though the mountains be car- ried into the midst of the sea," Psalm xivi. 1, 2. Then may we look forward to an incomparably more dreadful scene, even to the righteous Judge, and the great tribunal, and say with the triumphant apostle, " Who shall lay any thing to our charge ? It is God that justifieth ; who shall condemn us? It is Christ that died," Rom. viii. •33, 34. Let me entreat you, therefore, brethren, for the sake of your own immortal souls, and for the welfare of our endangered na- tion— let me charge you by all that is de- sirable in time, and awful in eternity, not to neglect these counsels. Being so so- lemnly reproved, if "you harden your neck," your destruction cometh suddenly, and "that without remedy," Prov. xxix. 1. Having these warnings from the divine word, and warnings from the divine Provi- dence, " if ye still do wickedly," it is not man, it is not an angel, it is God himself who declares, " Ye shall be consumed ; even ye, your country, and your king," 1 Sam. xii. 2j> THE KNOWLEDGE OF SALVATION PRECIOUS IN THE HOUR OF DEATH; A SERMON, Preached January 4, 1 759, Lpon the ileath of the Rev. Mr. James Hrrvey, by W. Romaine, A. M. Lecturer of .St. Dunstan's in the West, London. Hifiliteousneiis deliverethfrom death. — Prov. x. Luke ii. ?9, 30.—" Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, according to thy word ; for mine eyes have seen thy salvation." According to the ancient prophecies, in the fulness of time God sent forth his Son. He came to his own, when there was a general expectation of his birth. Many just and devout persons in Jerusalem were then looking out for the Redcemei's com- ing in the flesh ; and among them, good old Simeon, and Anna a prophetess, are particularly mentioned. St. Luke says, " there was a man in Jerusalem, whose name vv'as Simeon, and the same man was just," a justified person, " and devout," fear- A SERMON ON MR. HERVEY'S DEATH. 673 ing to offend God, as the Greek word sig- nifies, " waiting for the consolation of Israel ;" he was waiting for the incarnation of the divine Comforter, by whose birth all the promises of comfort were to be ratified and fulfilled, and the Israel of God were to receive everlasting consolation. The Lord was pleased to vouchsafe a particular revel- ation of his will in this matter to Simeon ; " For the Holy Spirit was upon him, and it was revealed unto him by the Holy Spi- rit, that he should not see death before he had seen the Lord's Christ incarnate. And he came by the direction of the Spirit into the temple ; and when the parents brought in the holy child Jesus, to do for him after the custom of the law, then took he him up in his arms, and blessed God that he had lived to this happy hour, when he could take up the prophet's words, and say, Lo, this is our God, we have waited for him ; and he will save us ; this is the Lord, we have waited for him ; we will be glad and rejoice in his salvation." Simeon waited to see God incarnate ; and having seen him, he wanted to live no longer. He desired his dismission. All the ends of living were answered ; and therefore he put up this sweet prayer : " Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, according to thy word; for mine eyes have seen thy salvation." With these same words, one of our de.ir brethren, now with the Lord, finished his course. They were the dying words of the Rev. Mr. James Hervey. He had long desired to depart and to be with Christ, which he knew was far better than to abide in the flesh ; but he waited patiently for the Lord's time ; and, when it was come, he thus expressed the thankfulness of his heart, " Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, according to thy" most holy and comfortable " word ; for mine eyes have seen thy" precious " salvation."* The Lord heard him, and gave him a gentle dis- mission. He died, as he had lived, in a perfectly even and calm composure of mind. Death showed that lie came to him as a fi-iendly messenger to call him to glory ; for he cheerfully obeyed the summons. There was no fear, no struggle, not a sigh or groan ; but he departed in peace, and in full assurance of faith. Oh ! that you and I, my brethren, may so live by the faith of the Son of God, that when we come to die, we may be able to use this same prayer, and may receive of the Lord a like gracious answer. These sweet dying words of our dear brother have made a great impression upon several of his acquaintance ; for they have been led to consider them more closely than * Several particulars in this Sermon respecting Mr. Hervey are more fully related in the account of his life. perhaps they ever did before, and several have meditated upon them with great com- fort. In order that others might do the same, and that his happy death might be the means of stin-ing up many to seek to die the death of the righteous, and that their latter end might be like his, I have deter- mined to speak upon the words this day. May the same Spirit by which Simeon spake them be in all your hearts ! may he teach you their true and full meaning, and, in God's due time, may he give you the comfortable experience of them ! Under his guidance let us consider, I. That when Simeon had seen the sal- vation of God, he was prepared to depart : II. He therefore desired it, and prayed for it : and, III. He expected he should depart in peace according to God's word, which was fulfilled to him. And under each of these particulars, I shall speak of the experience of our deceased brother. I. Simeon had it revealed to him by the Holy Spirit, that he should not die until he had seen the Lord's Christ ; and when Je- sus was brought into the temple, he was directed to go and receive him for the pro- mised Messiah, and, taking him up in his arms, he blessed God, and said, " Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, according to thy word ; for mine eyes have seen thy salvation." It is evident he spoke these words in their primary sense, of his seeing Jesus with the eyes of his body ; but this could have been no great cause of joy to him, unless he had before seen Christ some other way ; for multitudes saw him with their bodily eyes while he was upon earth, who were no better for the sight ; and multitudes will hereafter see him in his glo- rified body, but it will be to their everlasting confusion. There is another kind of sight to which our church referred you this after- noon, when each of you took up these words, and said, " For mine eyes have seen thy salvation." If you knew what you said, and spoke the truth as you had experienced it, you meant that you had seen the salvation of God with the eye of faith ; according to what is said of Moses, " That by faith he saw him who is invisible." Heb. xi. 27. He saw him by the eyes of his soul, who was invisible to tlie eyes of his body ; for the sold has its eyes as well as the body : but sin darkened them ; it put them into the state in which the eyes of the body are when they have no light : then they can see nothing. So the soul is said, in Scripture, to be in darkness and blindness, until the eyes of the understanding be en- lightened. They cannot see any spiritual objects, until the Sim of Righteousness shine upon them ; nor, when he does shine, can they see any loveliness in those objects, 2 X 674 A SERMON ON until tliey be aUe to act faith upon them ; for the eye of faith not only beholds the ob- ject, but also distinguishes its own interest in it. I^aith keeps all the senses of the soul in act and exercise upon the proper ob- ject which each apprehends : here the eye of faith is fixed upon salvation, not only viewing it as a blessing belonging to others, but also appropriating it to itself. " Mine eyes have seen thy salvation :" here Simeon, speaking of our Saviour, calls him salvation, because all salvation is in and from him. He is the author, and he is the finisher of it. The great plan of it was laid by the coequal and coeternal Persons of the ever- blessed Trinity, before the foundation of the world ; it was carried into execution by our divine Saviour in the fulness of time ; and he is an eternal salvation, an eternal deliver- ance from all evil, and an eternal possession of all good. Upon the entrance of sin in- to the world, this great salvation of our God was revealed ; and by faith believers under the Old Testament dispensation enjoyed the benefits of it. At the appointed time Jehovah took a body of flesh, and our di- vine Immanuel stood up to save his people from their sins. He undertook to satisfy all the demands of law and justice. The law he satisfied, by paying it a perfect un- sinning obedience ; which being a divine, as well as a human obedience, did therefore magnify the law, and make it more honour- able, than if all the creatures in heaven and earth had never offended against it. Justice he satisfied, by enduring the threatened pun- ishment ; and after his sufferings and death, justice had no more demands upon him ; for he came out of the prison of the grave with a full discharge. This satisfaction made to law and justice by the obedience and suffer- ings of the Lord Jesus, is what the Scrip- ture calls the righteousness of God, because it is a divine and infinitely perfect righte- ousness ; a divine righteousness wrought out by Jehovah himself, and as infinitely perfect a righteousness as Jehovah could make it. In this all-glorious righteousness of the God-man, Christ Jesus, consists the sinner's salvation ; for he is accepted and justified by it : the fruits of this righteous- ness are his sanctification, and the robe of this righteousness is his glorification. So that salvation in time and in eternity depends upon the righteousness of the in- carnate God. This is the fundamental doc- trine of the Christian religion, for which our dear brother was a noble champion. He saw, he experienced the importance of it, and therefore, in his conversation and in his preaching, it was his favourite topic. How sweetly, how profitably have I heard him dwell upon it ! and how excellently has he defended it in his writings ! Read his Theron and Aspasio ; and when you are thoroughly convinced that Christ is the end of the law for righteousness to every one who believeth, and can say with faith, " In the Lord have I righteousness and sal- vation," then your mind will be settled in peace and comfort, and you will be deliver- ed from those dangerous errors which are now propagated concerning the righteousness of the Lord Jesus. Thank God for the masterly defence of it in these Dialogues.* In them, Mr. Hervey, being dead, yet speaketh the praises of his adorable Re- deemer, and clearly proves, that we have our salvation through his righteousness. Immanuel the Saviour is the justifier, as he says himself, Isa. xlv. 21, 22. " There is no God else beside me, a God that gives righteousness and a Saviour, there is none beside me. Look unto me and be ye saved, all the ends of the earth ; for I am God, and there is none else." How could they be saved by looking unto Christ ? Certain- ly not by a look of their bodily eyes. Simeon's joy did not arise from having Christ in his arms, and looking upon him ; but from being able to look upon him by an act of faith. He knew him to be his Saviour. Thence arose his joy ; and from thence must yours arise. It is the look of faith which saves; the eye of faith kept in exercise upon its proper object, even upon .Tesus, the author and finisher of faith. It is this act of faith which our Lord requires : " Look imtome," with this promise annexed, " and be ye saved." There is salvation in the look of faith ; for it sees and receives Jesus, as he is offered in Scripture, for a free, full, and complete Saviour. And whoever keeps the eye of faith in constant ex- ercise, is prepared, with good old Simeon, to depart in peace ; because, by having an interest and property in the sahation of our God, he is thereby delivered from every thing that can make death dreadful, and is in possession of every thing that can make death desirable. * About a week before Mr. Hervey was taken ill, I mentioned to him a report that was spread about con- cerning Mr. Sandeman's Letters on Theron and As- pasio to this effect,— That he (Mr. Hervey) had written a letter to Mrs. Cooke, and therein had said, that Mr. Sandeman was in the right, and had con- vinced him of his error ; or words to that purpose. To which he answered. That he had written a letter to Mrs. Cooke, and therein he had acknowledged, that many of Mr Sandeman's remarks were judicious, and that he had corrected some of his expressions and in- accuracies. But he said, that he was very far from having changed his opinion as to the substance and matter of the argument ; for therein he tliought Mr. Sandeman was entirely wrong. Whereupon I desired he would insert an advertisement in some of the Lon- don papers, signed by himself, to set this mistake right, lest it might hinder the sale and reading of his books, and thereby prevent much good. To which he agreed ; and added, that he would let that para- graph stand in his Answer to Mr. Wesley, relating to Mr. Sandeman, only softening the expression a little; but all this was prevented by his illness and death. The truth of this I am ready to attest. Abraham Madbock, Curate of Weston-Favrll. MR. HERVEY'S DEATH. 675 What is it that makes death dreadful ? I3 it not guilt in the conscience, accusing the sinner for the breach of the holy law, and alarming him with fear of the threaten- ed punishment, which the justice, and holi- ness, and truth of God are concerned to see inflicted in time and in eternity ? Thus we read, " The sting of death is sin, and the strength of sin is the law." Death has power to sting, so long as the broken law gives sin a right to accuse and condemn : all unpardoned sinners therefore are afraid of death. From this state of fear and bond- age our Lord came to save his people : " He came to deliver them, who through fear of death were all their lifetime subject to bondage ;" and he does deliver them, when their sins are forgiven, and his right- eousness is imputed to them : for then the broken law cannot condemn, nor justice pun- ish, there being no condemnation to them that are in Christ Jesus. Upon which death loses its sting ; and when the par- doned sinner looks upon it, he sees nothing terrible in its appearance, but can boldly, and without presumption say, " Yea, when I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil ; for thou my God art with me." And he is not only prepared to die, be- cause he is delivered from every thing that could make death dreadful, but also, because he is in the possession of every thing that can make death desirable. He knows he has an interest in Christ, and Christ is the pos- sessor of heaven and earth. He has all things in his hands, and has promised to make them all work together for the good of his redeemed people ; so that whoever has Christ, has all things. " All things," says the apostle, " are yours, whether life or death, or things present or things to come, all are yours." And the reason follows, ♦' And ye are Christ's, and Christ is God's." As all that Christ has is yours, and all that God has is Christ's, consequently all is yours. And death by name is yours : no longer a curse and a punishment, but turned into a real blessing ; for it is the gate and entrance, through which you pass into endless life and never-fading glory. Thus he is prepared to depart, who has, seen with the eye of faith the salvation of God. The doctrine is clear from Scripture ; but how is it, my brethren, in your experi- ence ? are you prepared to depart ? and on what do you build your preparation ? on the Lord Jesus, or on what ? Search and see ; for nothing can comfort you in the hour of death, but having received him into your liearts by faith and love. You must see his salvation, and be able to keep the eye of faith intent upon it, before you can be prepared to depart ; but when this is your happy case, then, in whatever shape death comes, yon wjll be able to tay with our dear brother, " Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, according to thy word : for mine eyes have seen thy salvation." He might well say, " Mine eyes have seen thy salva- tion j" for all that came near him were con- vinced thathe had seen it. The effects show- ed it. He had put off the old man, and had put on the new ; and was under the influ- ence of divine love to hisiadorable Saviour. The love of Jesus ruled in his heart, and was therefore constantly uppermost in his mouth. He loved to be telling of his sal- vation all the day long. And he did not talk like a professor, full of mere head-know- ledge ; but what he spake had a warmth, and life, and power in it, which showed that it came from his heart. He was perfectly inflamed with the love of his divine Lord and Master J and if you sat any time in his company, you could not help catching some of the holy flame. So that if strangers to his person may doubt of his experience of a Saviour's love, we who have conversed with him cannot. We are sure, from what we saw and heard, that he had seen the salvation of God, and therefore was pre- pared to depart. He knew in whom he had believed, and was certain the power and the love of the dear Immanuel were in his in- terest ; so that neither death, nor he that had the power of death, could hurt him. A friend of mine was much with him on the 1 5th of December, and the discourse turn- ed upon what Christ had done for his soul. Mr. Hervey spake strongly and earnestly of the assurance of his faith, and of the great love of God in Christ to him. He declar- ed, that the fear of death was taken from him : and it afterwards appeared, that death had no sting to hurt, nor the grave any power to get victory over him ; for when death came, it found his mind in perfect peace. He had no uneasy apprehensions of dying, but had hopes full of glory and immortality. Doubtless then he .had seen the salvation of God. The knowledge of salvation had been precious to him in life, and theretore he experienced the precious- ness of it in death : for then he could give thanks to God for giving him the victory through Jesus Christ his liOrd. Happy are they to whom God has given the knowledge of their salvation ; they believe, on good grounds, that their Saviour has brought them into a state of salvation ; and there- fore they are prepared to meet death, yea, they can desire and pray for it, as Simeon did ; which is the second particular I was to consider. Simeon, knowing that he was prepared, therefore desired to depart. And this is the believer's case. He longs for death, not out of an impatient discontented temper, but out of a real holy affection. When ei6 A SERMON ON worldly men are oppressed with troubles on all sides, and see no way to escape, they are apt to desire death, that it may brmg their misery to an end, and put them out of their pain : And there are some most miserable and abject cowards, who murder themselves to get rid of the troubles of life. These men court death as a less evil ; but the be- liever desires it as a real blessing. He knows that his death will be to the glory of his Saviour ; for it grieves him to the heart, that he should ever do any thing displeasing to such a kind Benefactor. After receiv- ing so many tokens of Christ's love, oh ! it is indeed afflicting to give him the least offence. I appeal to yourselves. You that have the love of Jesus in your hearts, are not you sorry that you love him so little ? Have not you reason daily to mourn for your ingratitude to him ; and what will such thoughts suggest, but a desire to be where the very occasion of offence will be remov- ed ? It was on this account that Mr. Her- vey desired death ; for the last morning of his life, when his brother came in to inquire after his welfare, he said, " I have been thinking of my great ingratitude to my God." And these thoughts made him wish to be delivered from the bondage of corruption, into the glorious liberty of the children of God. And he desired it as Simeon did, and all believers do, upon another motive, namely, because the Lord will get himself honour, by the honour which he will give to his peo- ple in his kingdom. " He vvill be glorified," says the Apostle, " in his saints ;" he will get himself glory, by the great glory which he will bestow upon them. And as the believer has in all things an eye to God's glory, so has he especially in his desires to be dissolved and to be with Christ. He knows that God is glorified in him and by him at present ; but then it is imperfectly, and that grieves him. Self, or the creature, will be trying to share the heart with God, and theieby to rob him of his glory. A bare thought of this, when only rising in the mind, hurts the believer. He would have every thought brought into subjection to Christ ; and that makes him desire to be where temptation and sin shall be no more, and where he shall glorify God, and God shall be glorified in him for ever and ever. With this view, Mr Hervey desired to de- part. His great love to his Saviour's glory made him wish for death. He longed to be dissolved, that he might be freed from the frailties and infirmities of this mortal life, under which he laboured, and could not al- ways, nor in a perfect degree, promote the glory of his redeeming God : therefore he desired to be with them who follow the Lamb whithersoever he goeth, and are ever receiving glory from him, and ever giv- ing glory to him. And the Lord granted his desire ; he literallj answered his prayer ; for he departed in peace, according to the word of God, as I purposed to shew under my third head. What it is to be at peace with God, and to depart with a sense of this peace upon our miiids, I cannot better express, than in the excellent words of the present archbishop of Canterbury, in his Nine Sermons, p. 1 32. " The peace of God is that sense of being in friendship with him, that feeling of com- fort and joy flowing from him, which pass- eth all understanding, exceeds the concep- tions of those who have not experienced it, and will exceed hereafter the present con- ceptions of those who have." And the be- liever, even when he is departing this life, has a sense of his being in friendship witli God, and has a feeling of comfort and joy flowing from him. This is promised in Scripture, and this is fulfilled to them who, being justified by faith, have peace virith God : being reconciled to the Father through the Son of his love, they live, and they die in peace. ;, I suppose some weak in the faith are thinking thus within themselves ; "Well, is it so, that true believers die in peace and joy ? 1 am sure I could not at present ; for I am dreadfully afraid of death : and what would not I give to be delivered from these fears, for they make my life miserable ?" My brethren, why are you in bondage to them ? God offers you deliverance. There are many general promises in his word, that let what will happen to believers, the peace of God shall rule in their hearts. Thus, Isa. xxvi. 3. " Thou vnlt keep him in per- fect peace whose mind is staid upon thee." And as it is a perfect, so it is a continual peace. " The Lord of peace himself," says the apostle, 2 Thess. iii. 16, " give you peace always by all means ;" for, after he has once given this peace, he makes all means, even the most unlikely, tend to the promoting of it ; therefore death can by no means weaken, and much less destroy, this peace of God. These general promises he fulfilled to the patriarchs : for St Paul says, Heb. xi. 13. " That they all died in faith :" they acted faith in their death, and consequently had a sweet sense of the peace of God in their hearts when they died. Da- vid shews us the reason of their dying in faith. Psalm xlviii. 14. " This God is our God for ever and ever : he shall be our guide even unto death." They knew that their God would be with them to giude and keep them, when the body returned to dust, and the spirit returned to God who gave it : and therefore David spoke for himself, what each of them also could say, " When I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I will fear no evil, because thou my MR. HERVEYS DEATH. 67f God ait then with me ; rhy rod and thy staflF comfort me even then," Psalm xxiii. 3. With this faith, they looked upon death as disarmed of its sting and power to hurt j and therefore they laid down their heads, and fell asleep in the arms of death, \vith as much composure as any weary traveller ever longed for rest. They " fell asleep." The Scripture speaks of their death under this beautiful image, to teach us, that death was as sweet to them as ever sleep was to a hard-labouring man. The faithful fell asleep quietly and composedly. And how should it be otherwise ? they had no evil to fear ; for they were at peace with God. And what could death do to hurt that peace ? It does indeed dissolve all other bonds, but it strengthens this. It is the happy instrument of fastening the bond of peace with a tie which never, never can be dissolved. And when the faithful look upon death in this light, what is there in it but joy and peace, even a joy unspeakable, and a peace that surpasseth all understand- ing? Perhaps some of you think this is not al- ways the case ; because there are very good men who have had strong conflicts and struggles before death. Nay, my brethren, think not so wickedly of God. Is it accord- ing to his word that the faithful shall depart in peace, and do they not ? What ! can the word of God be broken ? No ; it shall stand fast for ever and ever. And in the case which you state, it does not follow that this peace is weakened or destroyed because it is tempted ; by no means. The sense of this peace may remain when it is most furiously attacked ; for it is the peace of God. God gave it, and God keeps it ; and he may suffer the devil to tempt, but not to destroy it. The more it is tempted, the more honour redounds to God for preserv- ing it in the fiery trial. It was more to God's glory to preserve his children in the fiery furnace, than to have kept them out of it. Doubtless he that has the power of death will make his last efforts, and try to shake the faith of a dying believer. The devil will then set upon him with all his fury. But though he be a roaring lion, yet he is chained ; and the almighty Saviour so overrules his malice and rage, that he makes them work together for his glory and his people's good ; as he did remarkably in the last efforts which the enemy made against our dear brother. He saw him in great weakness of body, and then made a furious onset against his faith ; but the dear Imma- nuel was with him, and would not give him over into the enemy's hands. His faith was tried, and it came like gold out of the fire. He knew that it would be tried, and had therefore prepared himself for the fiery trial. Speakbig of it to a faithful minister of Christ, who was often with him in his last sickness, he said, " How many precious texts are there, big with the rich truths of Christ, which we do not comprehend, which we know nothing of ; and of those which we do know, how few do we remember ? Bonus textuarius est bonus theologus ; and that is the armour. The word of God is the sword, these texts are the weapons, which I must use when that subtle spirit, that arch adversary of mankind, comes to tempt and sift me in my last conflict. Sure- ly I had need be well provided with these weapons ; I had need have my quiver full of them, to answer Satan with texts out of the word of God when he assaults me." Satan did assault him, but found him pre- pared and armed. Mr Hervey said to his friends the day that he died, " Oh, you know not how great a conflict I have." And after he had sat for some time with his eyes constantly lifted up towards heaven, and his hands clasped together in a praying form, he said, " Now this great conflict is over." Jesus made him conqueror over all the powers of darkness : having endeavoured to rob him of his peace, but in vain, they left him in his Saviour's arms, never more to be tempted ; and he watched over him with the tenderest love, until he took him home. And when be went, he indeed departed in peace. His body seemed to be ready as well as his soul. When death came, he had not one struggle with it. There was not a single groan or sigh, or any thing that could shew the least unwillingness to depart. He had such a gentle dismission as he had pray- ed for in Simeon's words. He departed in peace, and fell asleep. I have now finished what I had to oflfer upon the three particulars mentioned in my text ; and it appears, that when a sinner is convinced of his want of a Saviour, and is convinced that Jesus is such a Saviour as he wants, able and willing to save to the ut- termost ; and when he is made to see his interest in the perfect complete righteous- ness of this adorable Saviour, and is assured of it from the word and Spirit of God, and from the fruits of righteousness produced in his life and conversation, then he is prepa- red to die ; then he may desire it with sub- mission to God's will ; and whenever death comes, he may expect to depart in peace, according to the word of God. These great truths I have illustrated from Scrip- ture and from experience j more especially from the experience of our dear brother now wdth the Lord, of whom I have spoken no» thing more than what the words of my text naturally led me to say. If I were to at- tempt to draw the character of this exellent man, I would consider him in the several relations in which he stood to God and man, and would exhort you to follow him, so far rr,^ A SERMON ON as lie followed Christ. But the compass of this discourse will not suffer me to en- large ; I can only just observe some parti- cular instances, from whence it will evident- ly appear, that he had seen the salvation of God. He had a clear view of it by the eye of faith, and was able to act faith upon it ; for his was a faith working by love. " We love God," says the beloved Apostle, " because he first loved us ;" because we know by faith that he first loved us : so that our love is the reflex act of his love to us. And Mr. Hervey had great experience of God's love to him, and therefore liis heart was full of love to God ; and out of the abundance of his heart his mouth spake. There »vas such a sweetness of heai't-love upon his tongue, that he used to speak of the love of the adorable Redeemer, like one who had seen him face to face in the fulness of his glory. He would, with all the pow- er of language and dignity of sentiment, speak for a long time together in praise of the ever-blessed Saviour. But you might plainly see, though every body else was pleased, yet he was not satisfied with what he had said. He thought he had not said enough, and what he had said fell far below his Lord's merit. But still be would try again, and indeed was never weary. You could not hear him speak, for any time, upon this his favourite subject, without be- ing convinced that he felt what he said ; and if you had any love of God when you went into his company, his conversation would inflame it. He had an excellency which I never saw to so great a degree in any other person : He never let an oppor- tunity slip of speaking of the love of Christ. He would take occasion from the most common incident, and yet it would not ap- pear forced ; for he had a wonderful talent at spiritualizing and improving whatever happened about him ; by which means he hindered the conversation from turning upon trifling matters, and at the same time kept it up with spirit and usefulness. Ha- ving set the Lord always before him, he saw the love of God in every thing ; aud there- fore it is not to be wondered at, that all ob- jects and events should give him occasion to speak of it. In his last sickness, it con- tinued still to be his favoiu-ite theme ; for whenever my friend, who was much with him, came into the room, he would begin to talk, of the love of Chri>t, and of the great things which Christ had done for him, until his breath failed him ; and as soon as he had recovered himself a little, he would proceed upon the same sweet subject -. so that he might have truly applied to himself the words of the prophet, " My mouth shall be telling of thy righteousness and ot thy salvation all the day long for 1 know no end thereof," This heart-love to God appeared evident. ly in every part of his character. As a minister, his faith wrought by lave to the souls of men in all the offices of his func- tion. While his health permitted him, he watched like a faithful shepherd over his flock. He used to visit them ^rom house to house, and to speak freely to them of the state of their souls ; and when the weak- ness of his body obliged him to drop these religious visits, he would often grieve that he could not be more useful, and would speak with great concern and uneasiness of his not being able to preach oftener, and to do more for Christ, In the pulpit, he was fervent and earnest with his people, and would often exert himself beyond his strength : for he preached the great doc- trines of salvation as one who had expe- rienced the power of them. It was mani- fest to all who heard him, that he felt what he spake. And when we speak what we know, and testify what we have seen, then God blesses this experimental preaching. He puts a divine power and energy into it, and renders it effectual to awaken sinners, to comfort them that mourn for sin, and to edify and build up the faithful. Mr. Her- vey had many happy proofs of the useful- ness of his preaching for each of these purposes ; and therefore he did not think it enough to preach once a-week on the Lord's day, but he set up a weekly lecture at Weston- Favell, which was very well attend- ed, and was blessed to many of his neigh- bours, who will be his glory and crown of rejoicing in the presence of the Lord Jesus Christ, at his coming. He did not forget that he was a minister in his own house ; for he called his family together twice a-day to serve God. It was his custom in the evening, after the servants had read the Psalms, and the second lesson, to explain some part of what had been read. In this exercise he would sometimes dwell for half an hour ; and when he met with a sweet passage upon the love of Christ, I have heard him speak for three quarters of an hour, and then he concluded with prayer. In the morning, when the family were met together he used to ask the servants, " Well ! where was our text last night ?" And after they they had repeated it, he made them give an account of what had been said upon it ; and then he would re- peat and enforce his last night's discourse, concluding with prayer. In the afternoon, when he was called down to tea, he used to bring his Hebrew Bible, or Greek Testament with him, and would either speak upon one verse, or upon several verses, as occasion offered. This was generally an improving seasoii. The glory of God is very seldom promoted at the tea-table ; but it \\ as at ^h: Hci vcy's. MK. HERVEY'S DEATH. 670 Drinking tea witli him was like being at an ordinance ; for it was sanctified by the word of God and prayer. As a member of society, his faith wrought abundantly by love to his neighbour : for he was fiill of good works. His charities to the poor were very large ; and that he might be liberal to them, he was veiy fru- gal in his own expenses. He chose rather to clothe the poor, than to give them mo- ney. He used to get some judicious person to buy linen, coarse cloth, stockings, shoes, &c. for them at the best hand, alleging that the poor could not buy so good a commodity at the little shops, and with driblets of mo- ney. " I am God's steward," says he, " for his poor, and I must husband the little pit- tance I have to bestow upon them, and make it go as far as possible." But where money would be particularly serviceable to a family long afflicted with sickness, or to a prudent housekeeper who had met with great losses in trade, he would give five, ten, or fifteen guineas at a time, taking care it should not be known from whence the money came. He gave away a great number of good liooks, with suitable instructions for their use, and especially Bibles. In the blank leaf, he frequently wrote something striking, or else stuck in a printed paper, relating to the promises of God in and through Jesus Christ. Mr. Hervey's income was but small, and it may be wondered how he managed it so well as to have such sums to spare for charitable uses ; but what money was left after the family expenses were paid, and all the profits arising from the sale of his books, which was a very considerable sum, he gave away in charity. He made of it a bank for the poor. " And this," says he, " I have devoted to God. I will on no ac- count apply it to any worldly uses. I write not for profit or for fame, but to serve the he abideth in him, ought himeelf also to walk even as he walked," 1 John ii. 6. Mr. Hervey walked very close after Christ ; and found that the belief of Christ's righteous- ness being imputed to him for his justifica- tion, was so far from being a licentious doc- trine, that it inspired him with the noblest motives to a grateful obedience. His holy life was an excellent recommendation ot his principles j for I never saw one who came up so near to the Scripture character of a Christian. God had enriched him with great gifts, and with great graces, and had made him numble : for he was humbled by the power of grace. He had been a very vain proud young man but the grace of God emptied him of pride and self, and clothed him with humility. Having put on Christ, he had put on with him the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit, which appeared in his great patience and resignation to the will of God. He had some very sharp trials of his faith and patience, both from God and from men ; and he learned obedience by the things which he suffered. It was very remarkable, that, in his long illness, he was never known to fret or be uneasy ; nor did the persons about him ever hear one angry, or one hasty word come out of his mouth. The same principle of faith working by love was manifest in his studies, which he directed to the glory of God. He was once a great reader of the Greek and Roman authors, and his writings shew that he had a good taste for classical learning ; but for some years past he chiefly applied himself to the study of the sacred Scriptures. God had blessed him with a fine understanding, and a great memory, which he exercised in reading the Bible in the original languages. He was very well skilled in the Hebrew, and was an excellent critic in the Greek, and was a scribe instructed unto the king- dom of heaven, who, like unto a man that is an householder, bringeth forth out of his cause of God ; and as he has blessed my ; treasure things new and old. He had attempt, I think myself bound to relieve the great veneration for this treasure of the Old distresses of my fellow-creatures with the profit that comes from this quarter." And he is still relieving them. He was not will- ing that his charities should die with him ; for he ordered all the profit arising from the fu- ture sale of his books, to be constantly ap- plied to charitable uses. Thus, having_,believ- d New Testaments. He used to talk of them in the highest terms, next to that ador- able Person of whom they treat. They were sweeter to him than honey and the ho- ney-comb ; and so they will be to every one who reads them, as he did, with faith. Who- ever can act faith upon the exceeding great ed in God, he was careful to maintain good and precious promises contained in the works, knowing that these things are good and profitable unto men. In his private life, he was under the in- fluence of the same faith, working by love to the will and commandments of God. His holy walking was very examplary. What he said, in words, concerning his interest in the Redeemers righteousness, he proved by his actions ; for he was very sensible of the importance of this scripture, " He that saith sacred volume, will find so much sweetness in it, that he will have but little relish left for other books. As to his writings, I leave them to speak for themselves. They stand in no need of my praises. They are in the hands of the public, and every reader will form his own judgment. Oh tliat the Spirit of the living God may direct it, that whoever reads his writings nuiy Iciun to have no f80 A SERMON ON confidence in the flesh, out to make men- tion of Jehovah's righteousness, even of his only ! The time would fail me, if I was to en- large upon all the particulars of his life and death. That was not my design : I only intended briefly to relate some things, from whence a tolerable judgment might be form- ed of Mr. Hervey's character. But I can- not liiiish without taking notice of the last scene of his life, which was very triumph- ant and glorious. The last and great trial of his faith was more precious than that of gold which perisheth. Its preciousness never appeared more than in the hour of death ; for then he evidently saw by faith, and apprehended the salvation of God, and could rejoice in a clear view of his own in- terest in it. When Dr. Stonehouse saw him for the last time, namely on Christ- mas-day, about two hours before he expir- ed, Mr. Hervey pressed home upon him his everlasting concerns, in the most aflfec- tionate manner ; telling him, that here is no abiding place, and begging of him to at- tend, amidst the multiplicity of his busi- ness, to the one thing needful. The Doctor, seeing the great difficulty and pain with which he spoke, (for he was almost suffocated with phlegm and frequent vomitings,) and finding by his pulse that the pangs of death were then coming on, desired that he would spare himself. " No," says he, " Doctor ; No. You tell me I have but a few moments to live ; 0 let me spend them in adoring our great Redeemer. Though my flesh and my heart fail me, yet God is the strength of my heart, and my portion for ever." He then expatiated in the most striking man- ner upon these words of St. Paul, 1 Cor. iii. 22, 23. " All things are yours, life and death : for ye are Christ's." " Here," says he, " is the treasure of a Christian. Death is reckoned among this inventory; and a noble treasure it is. How thankful am I for death, as it is the passage through which 1 pass to the Lord and giver of eternal life ; and as it frees me from all this misery you now see me endure, and which I am will- ing to endure ae long as God thinks fit ! for I know he will, by and by, in his own good time, dismiss me from the body. These light afflictions are but for a momeni, and then comes an eternal weight of glory. Oh welcome, welcome death ! Thou may- cst well be reckoned among the treasures of the Christian. To live is Christ, but to die is gain." After which, as the Doctor was taking his final leave of him, Mr. Hervey express- ed great gratitude for his visits, though it had been long out of the power of medi- cine to cure him. He then paused a little, and with great serenity and sweetness in his countenance, though the pangs of death were then on him, repeated these triumph- ant words : " Lord, nowlettest thou thy servant depart in peace, according to thy most holy and comfortable word : for mine eyes have seen thy precious salvation. Here, Doctor, is my cordial. What are all cordials to the dying, compared to the salvation of Christ ? This, this supports me." He found this supporting him in his last moments, and de- clared it by saying, twice or thrice, Precious salvation I and then leaning his head against the side of the easy-chair in which he sat, he shut his eyes, and fell asleep. O preci- ous salvation ! how precious must it be to the dying man, who, interested in it, can thank God for death, and reckon it among his riches ; who, supported by faith in the salvation of God, can account it his gain to die ; and can gladly say, Oh welcome, wel- come death ! May this faith support you, my brethren, when all other supports fail, and make salvation as precious to you as it was to Mr. Hervey ! and of this you may !)e assured, that what the Lord did for him, he is able also to do for you. He was in- deed a glorious instance of the power of grace ; for by the grace of God he was what he was. And grace is free ; as free for you as it was for him ; able also to make you live and die as much to the glory of God as he did. He was truly a burning and shin- ing light ; but the Lord's hand is not shor- tened. It can make your light shine also before men, and enable you to adorn the doctrine of God your Saviour as much as Mr. Hervey did. And the great use to be made of his example is, to stir you up to glorify God for the gifts and graces bestow- ed upon him, and to desire the same may be bestowed upon you. With this view I shall apply it, First, To those persons who have never seen the salvation of God, and, consequent- ly, are not prepared to depart in peace ; and these are all careless sinners, who live se- cure in the wilful commission of sin. Mr. Hervey knew, that whenever the Lord should call him out of this life, he should be found in Christ, not having his own righte- ousness, which is of the law but that which is through the laith of Christ, the righteous- ness which is of God by faith ; and, clothed in this righteousness, he was certain that he should appear at the bar of Justice without spot of sin, unto eternal salvation. But this is not your experience. Nay, you have never been awakened to desire it. You have never been humbled unoer a sense of your lost condition, nor broken down under a conviction of your helplessness : so that you have never seen your want of a Saviour ; and, consequently, have never seen the sal- vation of our God. If you entertain any MR. HERVEY'S DEATH. 681 hopes of departing in peace, while you are in this state, you are of all men the most deceived ; for when death comes, it will find you in your sins unpardoned, without any faith in the Redeemer's righteousness to make death desirable, but vvith every thing that can make it terrible. The holy, just, and good law of the most high God will accuse, conscience will plead guilty, jus- tice will condemn and punish, and the wrath of God will abide upon you for ever and ever. How is it possible you should depart in peace, unless you die insensible ? and that would be dreadful indeed. If sin should so far infatuate you, that you never awake out of its delusive slumbers until you are called to receive the wages of sin, oh think what sort of a peace you speak to yourselves ; since it leaves you in the greatest danger, and, at the same time, insensible of it. To depart in such a false peace, would be your everlasting destruction. Oh, sirs, consider then what a delusion you are under ! The wrath of an oflFended God abideth on you, the curses of his broken law hang over your guilty heads, and you are liable to the ven geance of his almighty justice ; and yet you think yourselves safe. You are saying. Peace, peace, while all the powers in heaven and earth are at war with you, and in a mo- ment you may be cut off, and delivered over to the tormentors : and then you will have a sad and eternal experience of that awful threatening, " There is no peace, saith my God, to the wicked." Men and brethren, what do you say to these things ? Are they true, or are they not ? If they be true, why are you not in- fluenced by them ? And if you think them not true, why do you make any profession of the Christian religion ? why do you come to the house of God to attend upon his or- dinances ? Your appearance here ranks you among professors j and, if you keep up the form, without the power of godliness, I have for you, in the second place, a word of reproof. There have arisen, in the latter days, mockers, who pretend to ridicule the see- ing of the salvation of God, and the being thereby prepared to depart in peace. Possibly there may be some such amongst us to-day, who laugh at all vital and exper- imental religion. If there be, I would ask them, whether the Scripture has not pro- mised deliverance from the fear of death ? Is it not written (Heb. xi. 15,) " That Christ came to deliver them who through fear of death were all their lifetime subject to bondage ?" Observe, they were in bon- dage to the fear of death, but Christ came to deliver them. And did not he attain the end for which he came ? Most certain- ly he did. " I have iinished," says he to his Father, " the work which thou gavest me to do." Now it was part of the work to deliver his people from the fear of death, and as the work was finished, consequently they are delivered. And they say they are. They attest it; and they have given the most convincing proofs of their havmg con- quered all fear of death ; they have been afflicted, tormented, stoned, sawn asunder, put on the rack ; and yet they would not accept deliverance, because they were sure of obtaining a better resurrection. And of these there have not been two or three on- ly, but a noble and numerous army, yea, a great multitude, whom no man could num- ber ; and glory be to God, it is an increas- ing multitude ! there are some who daily depart in peace, and there are hundreds, thousands, now alive, who are waiting for their departure with hopes full of immor- tality. And why should you think they will be disappointed of their hope ? Will Christ break his word ? Can his promise fail ? No : his word and his promise shall be established, when heaven and earth shall be no more ; and until the place of them shall not be found, the Lord will always have such witnesses of the truth of the doctrine in my text, as Mr. Hervey, who will depait this life in the triumph of faith. Against these plain facts what can you object ? They are founded upon the clear promises of Scripture, which are literally fulfilled at this very day ; and you can have no pretence to reject their authority unless you run into downright scepticism, and de- ny th(! authority of the holy Scriptures. If any of you have arrived at this pitch of ridicule, I shall not reason with you at pre- sent. Let the day decide the point. If death does not, judgment will. You will be forced to be tried by that book which you reject, and by that Judge whom you have insulted and vilified. O that you may be convinced of your error before it be too late I May God open your eyes to see your guilt and your danger, that you may sue for mercy along with them who are seeking the experience of the doctrine in my text ; to whom I have, in the third place, a word of comfort. I suppose there are many persons here, who find the sting of death in their guilty consciences, and who therefore desire to be delivered from the fear and from the power of death. My brethren, there is a glorious Deliverer, who has in his own person con- quered death, and him that had the power of death ; and he is able to make you con- querors. His power is almighty, for he is the Lord God omnipotent ; and he is an all-loving Saviour, who is more ready to give, than you are to ask, his promised help. Since he has shown you your want of it, ask and you shall have, seek and you shall find. You do seek, you say, but it is with many doubts and fears. Of what do you 682 A SERMON ON doubt ? Of Christ's power, or of Christ's love ? He can deliver you. All things are possible to him, because all power in heaven and earth is in his hands. And he is a God of love ; he has shewed mercy to the greatest of sinners, and has shed his love abroad in their hearts. He has given them faith to see their interest in him, and then they were happy living or dying ; for whether they lived, they lived unto the Lord ; or whether they died, they died un- to the Lord : so that living and dying, they were the Lord's. True, say you, I believe this was the happy case of Mr. Hervey, and of many others ; but I am full of doubts and fears, because I am such an unworthy creature that I do not deserve any mercy. Nor did they : God did not treat them upon the footing of desert ; what he gave them was mere bounty, flowing from the riches of his unmerited love. That is the way in which he bestows his great salvation. All the blessings of it are free, as free for one sinner as for another. None are excluded because they are great sinners ; Paul found mercy . and none are rejected because of their un- worthiness ; Mary Magdalen was pardoned ; and why may not you ? For all the gifts of God flow from his free grace, and are be- stowed upon unworthy sinners ; and if you are one of them, you are a proper object to receive the blessings of free grace ; and the sense of your unvvorthiness should make you more earnest in asking, but it is no bar to your receiving, all the blessings of salva- tion ; for Jesus Christ assures us in his word, " that he came to seek and to save that which was lost ;" such lost sinners as you are. Thus you see what encouragement you have to believe in God. You have his word and his promise to rely upon ; you have the testimony of God's people, declar- ing that they were once as you are, afraid of death, but now Christ has taken away the fear of it. They have seen the salvation of God, and know by faith that all the bless- ings of it are freely given them in Christ Jesus ; therefore they are ready, they desire to depart. May the tender mercies of our God bring every one of you into this happy state ! And to those who are already in it I make my fourth remark. My Christian friends and brethren, you have seen the salvation of God, and are de- livered from the fear of death ; what return will you make unto the Lord for all the be- nefits which he hath done unto you? Cer- tainly you will not forget the great things which he has already given you, and the greater things for which you are waiting ; and let these considerations constrain you to love this divine benefactor, and to soive him without fear, in an holy obedience, all tlii' days of your lives. Give evidence of the sincerity of your love, as your Lord requires, " If ye love me, keep my commandments :" Keep near to me in my ways, and walk close with me in mine ordinances, and you will not only thereby give proof of your love, but it will also grow exceedingly ; and as it grows, your desire to depart will grow with it ; for when the love of Christ rules in the heart, you will be ready, yea, you will desire to depa>-t, and to be with him. This was the happy experience of our deceased bro- ther ; and let his example stir you up to great care and watchfulness in your holy walking heavenwards, that your faith may be always working by love as his did. Con- sider the graces of his life, and seek the same. Stop not short, but try to get be- yond him. Consider his death. Remem- ber with what perfect assurance he spake of his interest in Christ, and what strong proofs he gave of it ; and then pray that your faith may stand as unshaken as his was in that great time of trial. And, above all, forget not what supported him in his last moments ; it was the clear view he had of his interest in the great salvation of God : " This, this," says he, " supports me," now at the approach of death ! Oh how precis ous did salvation then appear to him, when he found death coming disarmed, and with- out a sting ! and it grew still more preci- ous, when, with his last breath, he declared, that death had no power to hurt the peace of God which ruled in his heart ; for even then he found salvation precious. You need not fear, my brethren, but this will be your happy experience. God has given you the knowledge of salvation, by the remis- sion of your sins ; and as your faith grows exceedingly, salvation will grow exceeding- ly precious. The greater experience you hereby get of the love of Christ, the more will you be supported under the trials of life, and the better prepared for the tri- als of death. You will find, that the sweet sense of Christ's love in the heart will enable you to rejoice in suflfering, and then you need not fear but it will enable you to rejoice in the sufferings of death. For who or what shall separate believers from the love of Christ ? Shall the troubles of life, or the pains of death ? shall tri- bulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword ? No ; in all these things we are more than conquerors through him that loved us. " More than conquerors !" O glorious war- fare ! in which believers not only conquer their enemies, but also reap innumerable and endless blessings to themselves. Even death is to them a real blessing ; they ex- pect it, they find it so, and they are more than conqueiors over it, through him that loved them. MR. IIERVEY'S DEATH. 6S3 In the last place, I must put you all in remembrance, that neither the words of my text, nor what has been said upon them, will be of any benefit without a blessing from God. We cannot see his salvation with the eye of faith, nor experience the power of it, without the help of his grace. It is from him, who has done all for us, that all must be done in us ; and if some good impressions have been made this day upon any of your hearts, they will soon wear away, unless he preserve and strength- en them. If you desire at present to live Mr. Hervey's life, and to die his death, this desire will be ineffectual, unless it be carried into act by the mighty working of God's Spirit : He is all in all. For which rea- son we always begin and always end the hearing of the word with prayer : being as- sured, that if Paul should plant and Apollos should water, yet it would be to no purpose, imless God should give the increase. Oh ! that it may be abundant his day to his glory, and to the good of your souls. To that end let us pray : — O almighty and most merciful God, we humbly beseech thee to look down with mercy upon this congregation, and to bless the words which we have heard this day with our outward ears. Make them the means of opening the blind eyes which have never seen their want of thy salvation- Lord, enlighten them, and help them to seek, until they find pardon and peace in thee. Be gracious to those who are now waiting upon thee, believing that, after they have seen thy salvation, they shall be able to depart in peace. O Lord God, manifest it unto them, and add this day to the num- ber of those who have seen and experienced it. We desire to glorify thee for every liv- ing Christian who knows in whom he has believed, and is ready and prepared to de- part in peace. We give all the praise to the riches of thy free grace. And we also bless thy holy name for all thy servants de- parted this life in thy faith and love ; be- seeching thee to give us grace so to follow their good examples, as they followed Christ ; that with them we may be partak- ers of thy heavenly Idngdom. Grant this, O Father, for Jesus Christ's sake, our only mediator and advocate : to whom, with thee, and the Holy Spirit, three co-equal persons in one Jehovah, be honour, and glory, and blessing, and praise, for ever and ever. Amen. TRACTS ON SEVERAL INTERESTING SUBJECTS. PREFACE. The reader will see, from tlie date of the following letter, that it was written a con- siderable time ago. From which circum- stance he will probably conclude, that it was not intended for publication. A con- jecture which is perfectly just. The pub- lication is owing to the Right Honourable personage, whose name, though it would grace and recommend his papers, the au- thor is not allowed to mention. Her Lady- ship's commands, which would admit of no excuse, drew the remarks from his pen ; and her desire, which with him will always have the force of a oonimand, has brought them to the press. It will give him the highest pleasure, if, while he is paying llie debt of obedience and gratitude to a noble friend, he may support the dignity of the divine word ; may raise its esteem, and pro- mote its study among men : because then he may reasonably hope to promote the best interests of his fellow-creatures, and subserve that grand designation of the Al mighty Majesty expressed by the Psalmist, " Thou hast magnified thy word above all thy name." Psal, cxxxviii. 2. REMARKS LORD BOLINGBROKE'S LETTERS STUDY AND USE OF HISTORY; 80 FAR AS THEY RELATE TO THE HISTORY OF THE OLD TESTAMENT, AND ESPECIALLY TO THE CASK OF NOAH D&NOIJNCING A CURSE UPON CANAAN : LETTER TO A LADY OF QUALITY Metc-es pro/undo, ptilchiior evenit. Hor. Madam, — As you was pleased to ask my opinion concerning Lord Bolingbroke's Remarks on the Scriptural history, I have procured the book; have perused what re- lates to the subject ; and submit to your judgment the thoughts which occured : as- suring your ladyship, that, though many might discuss the point much more clearly and satisfactorily than the person you favour- ed with your commands, yet no one can think it a greater honour to receive them, or a greater pleasure to execute them. " The Old Testament," it is alleged, " is no sufficient foundation for chronology from the beginning of time."* To enter upon the niceties of chronology, would, perhaps, be too difficult a research ; at least, it would require from your ladyship a more painful attention than I should choose to occasion by any of my letters. And I very frankly own, that I am by no means master of the » See Loid Bolingbroke's Letters on the Study and Use of History, vol. i. p. 93. argument, nor equal to the task. Others, I do not doubt, whose inclination has dis- posed, and whose genius has fitted them for this particular study, will undertake to de- cide the question, and give the honour where the honour is due. This, however, from a very scanty survey of the case, I can easily discern ; that the chronologer will nowhere find such memorable events for fixing his eras, nor such enrly and substantial aids for computing his time, as from the Mosaic monuments, and the sacred annals. From the beginning of the world to the flood, we have an orderly gradation of time, marked out by the lives of ten eminent pa- triarchs. From the flood we may proceed to that glorious promise of a Redeemer, made to Abraham, •' In thy seed shall all the nations of the earth be blessed." Gen. xxii. 18. From this promise, to the mira- culous deliverance of the Israelites from Egyptian bondage. From thence, to the building of Solomon's temple, which was an illustrious type of that divine Person 688 REMABKS ON " in whom dwells all the fulness of the Godhead bodily." John ii. 21. From the building of this magnificent structure, to the demolition of it by the Babylonian monarch. From thence, to the conquest of Babylon by Cyrus the Persian. And from the reign of Cyrus, to that grand, that most important of all transactions, the death of Messiah the Prince ; when he " finished the transgression, and made an end of sins, and made reconciliation for iniquity, and brought in everlasting righteousness." Dan. ix. 24. The intermediate space between each of these very distinguished periods, may, I be- lieve, be ascertained, to a considerable de- gree of exactness, from the sacred volumes. If so, this will constitute a more compre- hensive and perfect system of chronology, than can be derived from the Olympiads of the Grecians, or the Hegira of the Maho- metans ; from the Persian, the Roman, or any other epocha. But the history of the Old Testament is much more necessary to be known, and much more easy to be understood. Yet this, my lord suggests, (p. 83,) is not a complete history of the first ages. We al- low the suggestion. It neither is, nor has materials for, a complete universal history. It pretends to nothing more than to relate the aflfairs of one particular family ; in which the church of God was to subsist, and from which the Saviour of men was to spring. Nevertheless, so many collateral incidents are touched upon, so many branch- es of this main stream are occasionally pur- sued, as present us with a collection of the most ancient, the most curious, and most instructive facts. Here we are brought acquainted with the creation of the world, and the formation of man. The origin of evil, both natural and moral, is discovered in the fall of our first parents ; and the displeasure of God against sin is manifested by the waters of a general deluge. Here we see the preser- vation of our species in the ark, and repeo- pling of the earth by Noah ; the invention of polite arts, Gen. iv- 21, and the rise of useful manufactures, Gen. iv. 20, 22 ; the establishment of nations, and the founders of their principal kingdoms.* Not to add, that these records are the royal archives in which the charter of our sovereignty over the creatures is preserved. Gen. i. 28, and the original draught of the coveriant of grace deposited, Gen. iii. 16. Here, then. * Genesis, chap. x. Which, though but little ad- \'ertecl to, is the noblest piece of geographical anti- quity extant in the world. It shews us how the whole earth, from the three sons of Noah, was over- spread, inhabited, and denominated. It discovers the true source of the several nations about which profane authors either say nothing at all, or else say what IS chimerical, precarious, false. may we not challenge any or all the books written in every language under heaven ? What memoirs go so far back into antiqui- ty ? what memoirs are so interesting to all mankind ? Had they been transmitted to us by any Grecian or Roman author, how would they have been admired and valued ! how lavishly, and indeed how justly prais- ed! Another excellency of these writings (and peculiar to these alone) is, that they not only reach backward, as far as the very birth of things, but proceed forwards, even into the remotest futurity. They foretold the ruin of Babylon, Isa. xiii. 19, &c. xvi. 23, 24, the noblest, the best fortified, and most commodiously situated metropolis in the universe ; who said, and no one would have suspected it to be a vain boast, " I shall be a lady for ever," Isa. xlvii. 7. Yet the Scriptures pronounced her utter des- truction, Isa. xiii. 19, 20, &c. xvi. 23, 24. and specified the person who should bring about this great catastrophe. They point- ed out the place of his abode, Isa. xlvi. 1 1 , they described him by several distinguishing circumstances ;* they particularized the genius of his warlike enterprises ;f they mentioned his veiy name, Isa. xliv. 28, xlv. 1, — all this, some hundreds of years before the event took place, or the conqueror was born. They foretold the rejection and calami- ties of the disobedient Jews, who are the chief subject of their histoiy, (and this surely could not be with a view to aggran- dize their nation, or to answer any sinister design:) that they should be subdued by their enemies, lose the favour of their God, and the possession of their native land ; yet not be settled, as a colony, in some particu- lar tract of the victor's dominions, but be scattered abroad under the whole heavens, Deut. xxviii. 64. Amos. ix. 9. This was threatened by their Jehovah, this is record- ed in their books, and this is, even now, so remarkably i'ulfiUed, as to be a fact of the utmost notoriety. Go into the most po- lite or most barbarous countries, the nearest or most distant parts of the world ; you will everywhere find living evidences of this scriptural prediction. The Scriptures speak in the most explicit and peremptory terms, with regard to the re- stonition of the .Tews,Ezek. xi. 17; Amosix. 14, 15. Zech. xiv. 10, 11. This restoration * That he should besiege and take the most im- pregnable of cities, Isa. xlv. 1, 2. That he should en- rich himself with immense spoils, Isa. xlv. 3. That he should not be a tyrant, but a shepherd to the captive Jews; should release them from their captivity, and both permit and promote the rebuilding of their tem- ple, Isa. xliv. 28. t He is called a ravenous bird, Isa. xlvi. 11, denot- ing his speed, activity, and great expedition : Which were more like the flight of a swift-winged bird than the march of an army, with all itsencumbrances. BOLINGBROKE'S LETTERS. G89 could not be effected, at least could not be observed, if they had been blended and incor- porated with the inhabitants of other climes. Therefore to be a presumptive proof of its accomplishment, and to render it, when ac- complished, the most observable of all re- A'olutions, they have subsisted a distinct people, amidst all the regions whether they have been driven. A most singular and astonishing circumstance ! How soon were the Danes, the Saxons, and the Normans, mingled with the Britons ! and how entirely are they all melted down and lost among the natives of our isle ! But the Jews, like a drop of oil on the water, have continued a separate community ; and though dispersed into all nations, are not, through the long course of seventeen hundred years, embo- died with any. This is such a peculiarity in the dispensations of Providence, as I can never sufficiently admire ; and is, I think, an undeniable voucher to the authenticity of the Scriptures ; held forth, as it were by the hand of Omnipotence, in the sight of all the world. Such events the ancient Scriptures fore- tell, and such facts they relate ! facts of in- comparable grandeur, and events of the greatest importance. All which are deli- vered in such a majestic simplicity of style, as nothing can equal but their precise vera- city. Yet these books Lord Bolingbroke disparages, and at the same time extols the writings of Tacitus. " The remains of Tacitus," he tells us, "are precious re- mains," p. 161. Those of the holy Scrip- ture " are dark and imperfect accounts," p. 108- In Tacitus, " history preserves her integrity and her lustre," p. 161. In the holy Scripture, instead of history you have " an heap of fables ; which can pretend to nothing but some inscrutable truths, and therefore useless to mankind," p. 121. Every line of Tacitus has weight, p. 161, and cannot be mentioned without admira- tion ; whereas the sacred history is put up- on a level with the extravagancies of Ama- dis of Gaul, p- 121, and "can never gain sufficient credit from any reasonable man," p. 118. " Who is this uncircumcised Philistine (said David), that he should defy the armies of the living God?" 1 Sam. xvii. 26. And who is this Tacitus, would I ask, this dar- ling author, that he should be raised to the skies, while the divine historians are trodden to the dust? If your ladyship is unac- quainted with his character, let me give it in the words of a most elegant and masterly critic. " Having considered the principal qualities of Tacitus as a writer and an his- torian, I cannot help thinking, that there is a false sublime and affectation in his descrip- tions ; a scurrility and satirical vein, with too epigramm^atical a conciseness, in his svit ; an acuteness but too speculative, and a policy over refined, in his observations ; a malignant and ill-natured turn in his cha- racters ; a philosophy too abstracted and elevated in his reasonings, and a vanity in his learning. In short, that he is in anti- quity a pedant ; in the philosophy of nature a sceptic ; in morals loose ; in description gaudy and pompous ; in politics subdolous, refined and knavish."" Yet this is the writer that must be placed in such great superiority to Moses, Joshua, and Samuel ; this the history, (rise criticism, and resent the indignity!) that is spoken of with applause and rapture, even while the sacred annals are treated with disrespect and obloquy. I might recount the glorious privileges exhibited in this blessed book ; the inesti- mable promises made to the righteous ; the tenderly compassionate invitations ad- dressed to sinners ; the refined and exalted displays of morality ; with many other noble particulars, which it is the prerogative of Scripture to contain, the wisdom of man- kind to believe, and the only felicity of our nature to be interested in them, and in- fluenced by them. But my lord is ready to agree on these topics, tie expresses, in some places at least, no dislike of the doctrinal and prophetical parts. Nay, he has contrived an expedient to rescue them from the dishonour which he would bring upon the historical. He al- lows the former to be written under the in- spiration of the holy and unerring Spirit the latter, he affirms, are " purely human, and therefore fallible," p. 96. Proceeding upon this supposition, he scruples jiot to re- present them as the divices of craft, or the blunders of ignorance. -f- I must beg leave to observe, that such a distinction is without the least ground of re- ality to support it ; and would, if admitted, be an effectual method to subvert the whole of revelation ; For, if it could be proved, that the authors of this history were so weak as to fall into palpable errors, where a common degree of sjigacity would have secured them from mistaking ; or if they were so treacherous as to palm upon the world a multiplicity of forgeries ; so impious as to ascribe their falsehoods to the God of truth ; this would at once ruin their cha- racter as men, and destroy their credit as writers. At this rate, who could dejiend upon their testimony in any point what- ever? Besides, many of the doctrinal parts of * Hunter's Observations on Tacitus. t That this is no aggravated imputation, every at- tentive reader of his lordship's letters will easily pei. ceive; and I believe it will appear too plainly' from the passages to be produced in the sequel of this epis- tle. 2 Y 000 REMARKS ON scripture refer to, and are derived from the historical. If the latter were a parcel of impositions and mistakes, what degree of veracity or dignity could the former claim ? If the foundation is a bubble, how can the superstructure stand ? Whetherhis lordship, by such a specious pretence of serving the interests of true religion, intended secretly to undermine it, I will not presume to say ; but this I may venture to declare, that his scheme is very shrewdly calculated to com- pass such an end. Grant what his lordship asks ; and what all the enemies of Chris- tianity wish will undoubtedly follow. Farther, madam, such a distinction is con- trary to the express declaration of the New Testament; which positivelyasserts, that "all Scripture is given by inspiration of God," 2 Tim. iii. 16. Our blessed Lord, who was very well qualified to discern truth, and equally zealous to maintain it, makes no such differ- ence. He says in general, " Search the Scrip- tures," John V. 39 ; the whole collection of sa- cied writings. " Whatsoever things," adds St. Paul, not some particular passages only, but " Whatsoever things were written aforetime, were written for our learning," Rom. xv. 4, and must therefore have been under such a divine superintendency as secured them from all possibility of error ; otherwise they might be written, not for our learning, but for our deception. So that St. Paul's direction is as contrary to Lord Bolingbroke's distinc- tion, as the east is opposite to the west. We may as soon bring these two points of the hemisphere together, as reconcile his lordship's refinements with the apostle's re- tigion. I believe it will be equally difficult to ren- der his lordship consistent with himself. His concession overthrows his distinction. Admitting the doctrinal parts of the Scrip- ture to be true, the veracity of the histori- cal is, by necessary consequence, and beyond all contradiction, established. They are in- dissolubly connected; they mutually bear on, and i.Tutually sustain each other ; and must stand or fall together. Tbey are like an arch mast exactly finished, not a stone of which can be taken away without discon- certing the whole structure ; and like an arch firmly founded, as well as correctly finished, the more they are pressed, the stronger they will appear. My Lord says indeed — "That Christ came not to consecrate all the written traditions of the Jews," p. 94. He says it, but where or hosv does he prove it? By written tradi- tions of the Jews, I suppose, we are to un- derstand all the Hebrew Scriptures. The drift of the discourse leads us to this sense. ^Now, it is apparent that our Saviour has actually consecrated, has set the seal of au- thenticity and infallibility to the law of Moses, to the Psalms, and to the Prophets, Luke xxiv. 44. By appealing to them as decisive, and by allowing them to be predictive, he has acknowledged them to be divinely in- spired, to be unquestionably true. And a very little acquaintance with Jewish an- tiquities will inform us, that in these three partitions the whole body of the Hebrew Scriptures is comprehended. What then becomes of his lordship's assertion ? or to whose discredit does it tend ? — that of the Jewish Scriptures, or that of his own know- ledge? I must desire your ladyship to take no- tice of the expression in this passage. It is somewhat singular, and deserves a parti- cular regard. Written traditions is the phrase. Every one knows that we explode, and very justly, those superstitious whim- sies of the Jews which ])ass under the de- nomination of traditions. Yet my lord thinks proper to call the histories of the Old Testament by this disreputable name ; only he admits one difference, that whereas the former were transmitted by strength of memory, the latter are committed to writ- ing. But is this an honest representation ? is this free from all malignant disguise ? Let us put the matter to the following trial. The word legend, when applied to any modern story, raises the same contemp- tible and absurd idea as the word tradition excites, when applied to any Jewish notion. Would my lord, or would his friends think, that due honour or common justice was done to his " Sketch of the History and State of Europe," if it should be styled in our public papers " Lord Bolingbroke's written Legends ?" The impropriety and the malevolence of such a title would be undeniable and odious ; Who then can vin- dicate the propriety of his lordship's lan- guage, or clear it from being a most injuri- ous misrepresentation of the sacred records, which, however some of the facts might come down in a traditionary channel to the writers, by passing through their hands re- ceive the stamp of undoubted certainty, and are no longer traditions, but oracles. I wish this had been the only instance of artifice and imposition used in the letters under examination. Why are so many idle tales and scandalous stories raked together and exposed to view? (See pages 85, 86, 88, lU-2, 108, 109.) Why? but to put a cheat upon the inattentive reader, and de- preciate the dignity of the divine word ? de- preciate it much in the same manner as its most illustrious object and author was for- merly dishonoured, not only by the false accusations with which he was charged, but also by the infamous company with whom he vvas numbered. Did my lord imagine, that these tales were really believed even by the warmest advocates for holy writ? No : he must know in his conscience that they BOLINGBROKE'S LETTERS. 691 never were received by the generality of di- vines, neither are mentioned by authors of discernment, unless it be to confute and re- ject them. However, be they credited or not, it was apprehended they might serve a purpose : But whether it be the purpose of integrity, impartiality, and truth, I leave to the determination of others. Still it is urged. That these Scriptures are " full of additions, interpolations, and transpositions," p. 95, 96. That they are full of additions, is more easily asserted than evinced. I can find but one instance spe- cified by his lordship, which is the account " of the death and sepulture of Moses, with a sort of funeral panegyric," (p. 102,) re- corded in the last chapter of Deuteronomy. Here it is taken for granted that we are re- duced to a terrible dilemma — either to own that this paragraph was written by Moses himself, and then we may expect to hear of impossibility and absurdity ; or else, that it is all supposititious, and then the Scrip- tures must have passed through tampering fingers and suffered adulteration. But suppose this small appendix was made by Joshua, a man whose mind was il- luminated and his hand guided by the Spirit of the Most High, does such an ad- dition deserve to be branded with an ig- nominious, or even brought into disesteem by a suspicious character ? Or what if some other prophet whose name is unknown superadded this valuable anecdote ? Is the conceaJment of the penman's name sufficient to impeach the genuineness, or invalidate the authority of the passage ? especially since it has been approved by other inspired writers, and received the imprimature of the Holy Ghost? I know not who is the printer of his lordship's two volumes ; yet, though ignorant of this circumstance, for other very satisfactory reasons, I have no doubt but they are the genuine productions of his pen. My lord would have done well to consi- der, whether it was a probable or a practi- cable thing to interpolate a set of books, which were studied with so much accuracy, and kept with so much vigilance ; the number of vi'hose verses, especially in the Penta- teuch, was computed, and the arrangement of the very letters known : Whether, after the coming of Christ, the jealous eye which the Jews and Christians had on each other was not an insurmountable bar against any inno- vations or material alterations. As for transpositions, they are used by the most approved historians. When used with judg- ment, they redound to the reputation of the writer, and increase the pleasure of the read- er. And would his lordship make that a disapragement of the sacred narrative, which is a recommendation of any ordinary composition ? But my loro imagines that he has found out a substantial reason for the aforemen- tioned distinction — has detected such im- proprieties in the sacred narrative as " con- tradict all our notions of order and of jus- tice," p. 110. He produces, by way of spe- cimen, the case of Noah denouncing a curse upon Canaan. This, it seems, is the capi- tal absurdity, this the glaring error, which he concludes is sufficient to uncanonize the histories of the Old Testament, and degrade their writers from the class of inspiration. This, therefore, if your ladyship pleases, we will examine a little more particularly. The charge in general, is thus expressed : " One is tempted to think that the patri- arch was still drunk, and that no man in his senses could hold such language, or pass such a sentence." Was I at leisure to cri- ticise upon words, I should be tempted to observe, that the diction, " no man could hold such language," may be French, but it is scarcely English. However, from the expression, I pass to the sentiment. This, for candour and solidity, is much like the reflection of the Jews on the memorable day of Pentecost. When the apostles ad- dressed the inhabitants of various countries each in his native tongue, some of their hearers ascribed this miraculous ability — to what ? we are amazed when we read — to the intoxicating power of wine. Acts ii. 13. Strange ! that excessive drinking, which in- capacitates other people for talking common sense, should enable the disciples of Christ to speak all kinds of languages ! Is it not equally strange, that a drunken disorder should enable the patriarch to deliver pro- phecies, and foretell future events ! which (as I hope to prove) was the real import of the speech. Perhaps this curse may seem to be the effect, if not of disorderly indulgence, yet of intemperate passion. And how incom- patible is this with the character of a preach- er of righteousness ! Siu-ely Noah should not have been so forward to call for the thunderbolts of vengeance. Any benevo- lent man, much more a pious progenitor, would rather have deprecated the blow. I wonder his lordship did not start this ol>- jection, which would have been much more plausible, and much less shocking. To this, in case it had been started, we might reply. That Noah acted as the oracle of God. This, and many other such passages, which seem to be imprecations, are really predictions. Holy men spoke as they were influenced by the Spirit, and uttered not the suggestions of their own minds, but the will of Almighty God ; which inclines me to think it might be no less proper, and much more suitablt- to the prophetic style, if we translated such passages as indicatives, rather than im- peratives ; making them declaratory of what is decreed in the cabinet of heaven, and will 692 REMARKS ON as certainly take place as if it had already existed. Cursed is, rather than cursed be Canaan. Blessed of the Lord is, instead of be his land, Deut. xxxiii. 13. Thus, Isaiah foretelling the iticarnation of that wonderful and adorable Person, whom he styles the Mighty God, says, To us a child is born, Isa. ix. 6 ; so " calling the things that are not, as though they were." Such a man- ner of speaking would remove, from this particular passage, all that sounds harsh, or seems uncharitable ; and would, in the general, impart an unequalled majesty* to the language of Scripture. It was God then, and not man, from whom this avenging sentence came. And God, to shew his utter detestation of all iniqui- ty, to manifest his singular delight in all virtue, frequently takes occasion to denounce vengeance, or promise happiness, when some notorious evil is committed, or some laud- able good performed. And was there not a most notorious evil committed here ? *' Charity," says the apostle, " covereth all things ;"-[- draws a veil over the various in- firmities of every common neighbour. But this man (man shall I say, rather monster of ingratitude) sees the shame of a father, an aged father, a pious father, Levit. xix. 32 ; and, instead of concealing, " when he com- eth forth, he telleth it." Fools they are, abandoned profligates, that " make a mock at sin." \Vhat name then can be bad enough for a profane and uimatural wretch, who makes sport with a parent's folly, a parent's sinfulness, a parent's misery? Sure- ly this was a most flagrant violation of filial reverence, filial love, and filial duty ;X which not only implied so many particular offences, each attended with its respective guilt, but indicated the offender to be destitute of all piety. For, to argue in the apostle's strain, how could this man venerate a Father heaven, whom he had not seen, if he was so irreverent to a father on earth, whom he had seen ? But supposing the turpitude and immoral ityof the action to be very enormous, and such as deserved some signal vengeance; the ven geance, it is objected, was misapplied: " For Ham alone offended; Canaan was innocent: * Blessed be, is what an holy person might say and comprehends no more than a supplicatory bene- diction. Blessed is, suits only the mouth of a pro- phet, and implies an authoritative blessing. t 1 Cor. xiii. 7. This is one article in the finest display of social virtue that ever was exhibited to the world; and should, I think, be translated (not beareth, but) covereth or concealeth all things. The natural import of the word justifies, and the context evidently requires, this sense. Otherwise the first and last clauses of the verse will coincide in their meaning, or rather make an unmeaning tautology. t We may see from that awful threatening, Prov XXX. 17, with what extreme detestation the most ho- ly God resents such an unnatural behaviour: " The eye that mocketh at his father, and despiseth to obey bis mother, the ravens of the valley shall pick it out, and the young eagle shall eat it." My lord is not sure that Canaan was inno- cent, though he asserts it pretty confidently. The contrary notion has obtained among the Jews. They apprehended that Canaan was first in the transgression, and, instead of being reproved, was imitated by his fa- ther. Bishop Patrick, Mr. Poole, and other eminent commentators, think this to be no improbable opinion. If his lordship was unacquainted with the Hebrew, he will scarcely be thought quali- fied to pronounce so peremptorily concern- ing a case related in that language. If he was acquainted with the original, he acts somewhat unfairly in saying, " This notion is not only without, but against the express authority of the text," (p. 111.) For he must know that it receives some counte- nance even from the text itself. I would by no means ofl'end your ladyship's eyes with any rugged figures or uncouth quota- tions. But you may venture to believe me, when I assure you, that the most exact translation of ver. 24. is, Noah " knew what his son had done to him, the or that little one." Ham could not so properly be styled the little one, since he was the middlemost, and is always placed in that order, Shem, Ham, and Japheth. But the description agrees perfectly well with Canaan, the grandson of Noah ; and it was customary among the Jews to call the grandchildren the sons of their grandfather. Gen. jodx. 5; 1 Chron. i. 17. Canaan, it is added, " was alone cursed." The words would run smoother if transposed in this manner, Canaan alone was cursed. As for the fact, that wants some better confirmation than my lord's bare assertion. To me it is evident, that Ham was not ex- empted from the curse. What ! if it did not fall upon him in person, yet to be pun- ished in his offspring, must be very affect- ing, and no less afflicting. But hold ; my lord has forestalled us in this reply. Instead of waiting for it, or ac- quiescing in it, he plays it upon us with an air of triumph. " Will it be said," this has been said, " that Ham was punished in his posterity," (p. 111.) It has, and, with his lordship's leave, I will venture to say it again. Nor should I, in case Lord Bohng- broke was alive, have went farther than his own breast for a proof of my assertion. Would he, with all his exalted ideas of li- berty, have thought it no punishment on himself, provided he had been the father of children, to have heard them doomed to a state of slavery, nay, to be, as he very right- ly explains the sacred phrase, '• the vilest and worst of slaves ?" especially if, like Ham, he was appointed, in the course of providence, to be the father of several na- tions ; and if the doom had been pronounc- ed by a person, of whose prophetic spirit BOLINGBROKE'S LETTERS. 693 there was so incontestible an evidence as I the universal inundation was of Noah's ? Since my lord has no communication with us or our affairs, I appeal to any, to every parental heart. Let nature, fond, compassionate, yearning nature, speak, whether the infliction of such a penalty on the son (perhaps a favourite son, like Jo- seph,) the son's sons, and the latest posteri- ty, whether this be not properly a punish- ment of the father ? whether the father must not feel by anticipation, what his wretched progeny must endure in reality? Nature once spoke to such a query, and this was her language ; " O my son Absalom ! my son, my son Absalom ! would God I had died for thee ! O Absalom, my son, my son !" 2 Samuel xviii. 33. Did history ever record, or poetry ever invent, so me- lancholy a moan ? It breathes the very soul of wo, and exemplifies the sentiment which his lordship would explode. David, it is plain, was punished in the calamitous exit of this young prince, in the disasters sustained, and the disorders com- mitted, by his other children, 2 Samuel xii. 30. Adam thought himself punished in the ruin which he brought upon the human vace, and laments it, in the most pathetic terms, as the severest distress attending his apostasy. One wiser than Adam, one greater than David, whose judgment is al- ways according to truth, is evidently of the same opinion ; and, for that reason, has formed the sanction of a most sacred com- mandment upon this very principle ; " He will visit the iniquities of the fathers upon the children, unto the third and fourth gen- eration of them that hate him." What God has so expressly threatened, he has actually done ; not on this only, but on various other emergencies. Thus Esau suffered in his descendants," Jehu in his family, Hosea i. 4, and Hezekiah in his children, Isaiah x-xxix. 6, 7 ; who ail, like the Canaanites, were children of their father's disobedience, inheritors of their sin as well as of their name. But this would anticipate the reply to another objection. Where is the equity of cursing a people that are yet unborn ? Does not this " con- tradict all our notions of order and of jus- tice ?" It may be contrary to our notions, or at least it would be unjustifiable in our practice ; but it is quite otherwise with re- gard to the all-seeing God. Is it not agreeable to the strictest rules of justice for a magistrate, when he has heard the wit- nesses, summed up the evidence, and found the prisoner guilty ; is it not agreeable to the strictest rules of justice to pass sentence • Compare Gen. xxvii. 40, with 2 Sam. viii. 14. ■•Thou shall serve thy brother;" here is the sen- tence. " All they of Etlom became David's ser- vants;" here its execution. upon such a criminal ? The question can admit of no doubt. Yet it is equally cer- tain, that this was the very case with refer- ence to the supreme Judge, and those sin- ners the Canaanites. They practised the grossest and most inhuman idolatries, they abandoned themselves to the most horrid immoralities, such as violated nature, con- founded all order, and such as it would be shocking even to mention. Lev. xviii. 2i. Now all these provoking crimes were pre- sent to the view of him by whose inspiration Noah spake. He saw them with the same circumstantial exactness as if they had been already perpetrated. Let us take these very important particulars into considera- tion, the excessive wickedness of those na- tions, and the all-foreseeing discernment of Jehovah, and then who will dare to insin- uate that the everlasting Sovereign acted unjustly ; that he launched the lightnings of his indignation in an arbitrary manner, or upon an innocent people ? Who will be so precipitate as to aflarm with my lord, that " no other writer but a Jew could im- pute to the economy of divine Providence the accomplishment of such a prediction, nor make the Supreme Being the executor of such a curse?" P. 110. The former of those circumstances will appear in a proper light, what his lordship calls, " cruelties committed by Joshua in the conquest of the Canaanites." It will make them appear to be acts of righteous vengeance ; a much needed and most de- sirable extirpation of a pestilent people ; altogether as serviceable to the public as it was formerly to destroy the wolves from our island, or as it is at present to deliver over some flagitious malefactors to the sen- tence of the law. Yet the execution of this vengeance was delayed year after year, cen- tury after century. The seed of Abraham, for several ages, were not permitted to enter upon the possession of their destined inher- itance, because " the iniquity of the Amor- ites," which was the cause of their exter- mination, " was not yet full," Gen. xv. 16. Does it then bespeak the man of integrity to represent those proceedings of Joshua under the abhorred image of cruelties, which were acts of a justice exemplaiy, salutary, and greatly to be revered? Is it becoming an honest inquirer after truth to suggest, without the least shadow of proof, a selfish and malignant reason for the de- struction of the Canaanites ; when a rea- son, the most equitable in its nature, the most beneficial in its consequences, is ex- pressly and repeatedly assigned by the sa- cred historian ?* This I refer to your la- * Gen. XV. 16. Deut. ix. 5. " For the wickedness of these nations, »he Lord thy God doth drive them out from before thee." See also 1/ev. xviii. J.s, where the sacred writer describes their execrable and unparallelej vileness by one of tlie strongest «na 691 REMARKS ON dyship's decision, who, I am sure, will not err on the uncharitable extreme, yet I be- lieve will find it difficult, with all your good nature, to acquit the author of these Letters from the charge of disingenuity. May I not add, this way of foretelling, yet respiting the punishment, is gracious both in itself and in its consequences ? In itself; because a reprieve is always reckon- ed an alleviation of the sentence, even though it be not the forerunner of a par- don. In its consequences ; because it af- forded large space for recollection, and should have awakened the offenders to a sense of their guilt. It should have incited them to use all possible diligence to avert the doom, both by a personal reformation, and by educating their families religiously. Why did they not act as King Ahab acted, (1 Kings xxi. 27, 29 ;) and argue as the men of Nineveh argued, (Jonah iii. 9,) in a following age, but on a like occasion ? Instead of this, instead of betaking them- selves to consideration and prayer, to re- pentance and amendment, they ran to the same, to greater excess of ungodliness. So that these people, being evidently in- heritors of their father's sinful nature, and obstinately persisting in their father's sinful ways, were most deservedly partakers of his curse. And though God is that incon- trollable Sovereign, " who giveth not," is under no obligation to give, " account of any of his matters," Job xxxiii. 13; though he often has reasons for his dispensations, absolutely unsearchable by any mortal; yet here he is clearly vindicated even before men, even before the sinners themselves. They themselves must confess the justice of their doom ; and own, that " God hath done righteously, but they have done wick- edly ;" that God has showed all long-suf- fering, and given full warning before the blow fell, whereas they, notwithstanding this forbearance and this admonition, have continued incorrigible, and without any other change but that of becoming more con- summately vile. Agreeably to all this, and conformably to the most acknowledged rules of equity, it is declared by the sacred historian, that the Amorites, the descendants of Canaan, suffered not till they had filled up the mea- sure of their iniquities. Gen. xv. 16 ; their own as well as their father's. All which, I should imagine, is sufficient, not only to justify the counsels, but to glorify the judg- ments of the great Jehovah ; sufficient also to satisfy any inquirer who is (as my lord very handsomely expresses himself) " can- did, but not implicit ; willing to be inform- ed, yet curious to examine." My lord's curiosity to examine, shall I say ? or his resolution to be dissatisfied, proceeds still farther. Accordingly he adds, " Who does not see that the curse and the punishment in this case fell on Canaan and his posterity, exclusively of the rest of the posterity of Ham ?" p. 110, 112. The particle of, so frequently repeated in a sin- gle sentence, can hardly be admired as an elegance* of speech. But taking no more notice of such little blemishes, I shall consi- der the weight, not the polish of his lordship's arguments. As for this argument, I verily think, when laid inthebalance of impartiality and candour, it will be found wanting. For, admitting the objection in its full scope, what follows ? Why, that the righteous God par- doneth some criminals, when he might justly punish all. And if it should have pleased the supreme Judge to repeal the sentence, and remit the penalty, with regard to some of- fenders, who shall arraign his conduct ? who shall censure his providence ? To exercise mercy is his great prerogative ; an act not of debt, but of royal bounty, which he ex- ercises when and to whom it seemeth good in his sight : " I will have mercy on whom I will have mercy," Rom. ix. 16, is his high and holy resolve. I might therefore answer his lordship's question by asking another, which I might propose in the plain but solemn words of our Lord Jesus Christ : " If these are spared, while those are punished, what is that to thee? Is thine eye evil because God is good ?" But I shall rather reply to the objection by denying the fact. The punish- ment was not confined to Canaan and his posterity. It reached the other descendants of Ham ; Misraim himself, the father of the Egyptians (as will be shown in a proper place) not excepted. Canaan, it is true, is particularly mentioned ; because he was (as from this very circumstance is extremely probable) an accomplicef with Ham in the breach of filial duty ; because this branch of the family was more than ordinarily cor- rupt, nay, beyond measure vicious ; because the Canaanites were, in the first place, and in the fullest manner, to feel the effects of the curse : And Moses, being charged with boldest figures imaginable. So vile they were that Ihc very country loathed them, and was weary of hc;irinf; them : " The land itself vomiteth out her in- babitaiits." * This, and one or two preceding remarks of the same nature, are scarcely worth our notice, were it not to put a query upon the popular notion, that his lordship's style is so correct, elegant and noble, as to be a standard for fine writing. It caimot, in my ap- prehension, justly claim this honour. t This is rendered still more credible, by that par- ticularity of style which the Scripture uses in speak- ing of Ham. Ham the father of Canaan, Gen. ix. 18, 22. Why of Canaan so especially ? Had he no other children, no other sons ? Several other. But this distinction seems to be a brand of infamy set upon the offender; and intimates, that he who was father of Canaan by blood, was his partner, was his brother in iniquity. BOLINGBROKES LETTERS. 695 a coininission to execute the vengeance on tliis people only, had no occasion to concern himself with any other. Just as the sheriflf of a county, demanding the body of a con- demned malefactor, produces the dead- war- rant for his execution, without intermed- dling, or thinking himself under any neces- sity to intermeddle with the other prisoners in the jail. This leads me to a new, and, if I judge right, by far the most important inquiry, namely, whether the curse was exe- cuted as well as pronounced ? As I hasten to the proof of this particu- lar, my lord embarrasses and retards me with a fresh obstacle. He himself has thought proper to inform us, " why the pos- terity of Canaan was to be deemed an ac- cursed race." But he lets the world know " it is not so easy to account why the poste- rity of the righteous Shem, that great ex- ample of filial reverence, became slaves to another branch of the family of Ham during more than fourscore years," p. 1 12. I am by no means convinced that the point pro- posed enters into the merits of our cause. Should the reasons for this dispensation re- main an impenetrable secret, yet, if we clear up the propriety, and demonstrate the equi- ty, of the curse denounced, we compass our main end, and confute the grand censure. However, as the question is presented, it shall be considered ; and, though his lord- ship should affect to sneer, I choose rather, in imitation of those noble writers whose dignity I would assert, to be serious. Why were the Israelites sojourners in Egypt ? A reason occurs that is worthy of a giacious God, and greatly for the public good — that they might carry thither the knowledge of the everlasting Jehovah, and of the promised Messiah, of the only accep- table method of worship, and the only ef- fectual way of salvation. As Egypt was the parent of literature, and the fountain- head of science ; as men of letters and cu- riosity came, from all parts of the world, to complete their studies at Egypt ; if these heavenly doctrines were received there, they would be more likely, some streams of them at least, to be transfused into all climes and improve every nation. So that the people of the Lord, the only depositories of divine philosophy, were settled in this land of ge- neral resort, with much the same wise and beneficent views as the ablest professors of learning are placed at our famous universi- ties. But why were they slaves in Egypt? This might be to try them, and to humble them ; to show them what was in their heart, and to purge out their dross. We are taught in Scripture, that the Almighty chastens whom he loves, and scourges the men whom he receiveth to himself. Even the heathen classics, my lord's favourite au thors, have frequently remaiked, That ad- versity is a school, in which both private persons and public societies have learned the most heroic virtues. Besides, this might be intended to animate and inspirit the Israelites for their invasion of Canaan. They were in the general a supine and gro- velling* set of people. Had they been settled in a state tolerably easy, or in terri- tories that were but moderately commodi- ous, they might never have aspired after the land flowing with milk and honey ; never have made any resolute efforts to possess their destined inheritance. But, being driven by the lash, and instigated by the goad, of pungent, galling slavery, they were even constrained to burst the chains, and push their way to liberty and Canaan. Their insupportable slavery was somewhat like bending the bow, and straining the string, in order to launch the arrow. Far- ther, God Almighty assiu-es Abraham, that his seed, though enslaved for a while, should come out of their bondage with great sub- stance, Gen. XV. 14, with the silver, the gold, the jewels, and the choicest treasures of Egypt. So that, when labouring for their task-masters, they were in fact labour- ing for themselves. The wealth of the op- pressors was laid up for the oppressed ; and the season of their affliction in the enemy's country was like the rigorous cold of winter, which, far from obstructing, only makes preparation for the blossoms of spring, and the fruits of autumn. These considerations might have solved the diffi- culty to his lordship as a politician. Other reasons are suggested by our di- vines, which, if my lord had thought it worth his while to regard, might have given better satisfaction, and yielded more edifi- cation. They would have reminded the right honourable querist, that such a gloomy aspect of the Jewish affairs made way for the brightest manifestation of God's glori- ous attributes ; of his power in rescuing them from their tyrannical rulers ; of his faithfulness in fulfilling his promise made to their fathers ; of his goodness in sup- porting and conducting them — keeping them, amidst the most formidable dangers, as the apple of an eye j and bearing them, even through the most insuperable difficul- ties, as on eagles' wings, -f This also opened a most conspicuous theatre for that amazing train of miracles which have been, in all ages, as serviceable to the faith of Chiistians, as they were formerly conducive to the welfare * Let none imagine that the wisdom of God is im- peached by selecting (o himself a people of this cha- racter. His clemency, his forbearance, and all those benign perfections which are so necessary for the sal- vation of sinners, are hereby displayed with peculiar advantage, and to our unspeakable consolation. t See Deut. xxxii. 10, 11. These, 1 think, are most delightful and ininiitably delicate representa- tions. 606 REMARKS ON of the Jews. They would farther have in- formed his lordship, and have confirmed their opinion by apostolical authority, that the whole of this most wonderful transac- tion was typical of spiritual things ; was a series of living lessons, delivered, according to the eastern method of conveying know- ledge, in figures and emblems. The Egyp- tian bondage was a resemblance of our na- tural condition, which is a state of the most abject slavery to sin. The arbitrary and in- jurious impositions of the task-masters shadow forth, though but faintly, the tyranny of unruly appetites and imperious passions. The barbarous edict for the destruction of all the infant males, fitly enough represents the genuine tendency of carnal and corrui)t affections, which destroy our true comfort, subvert our noblest interests, are as death to the joys and to the hopes of our souls. Their deliverance from that miserable state was an expressive sign of our redemption from the guilt and the dominion of sin.* Roth which the Lord Jesus accomplishes, the one by price, the other by power : not by slaying the first-born, but by shedding his own blood ; not by softening rocks into a stream, but taking away the heart of stone ; not by turning the current of Jordan backward, but by turning ail our desires into a new channel. The many troubles and oppositions they met with in the wilderness, exhibit a lively picture of the molestations that attend, and the teinptations that assault the Christian. Trials await us : Snares are around us : Through many conflicts, and much tribula- tion, we must enter into the kingdom of heaven. Only let us beware, lest, like the ungrateful Israelites, we forget the God of our salvation, and fall after the same exam- ple of unbelief. The cloud that was spread over them by day, to intercept the glare, and screen them from the heat of the sun ; the fire that shone before them in the night, to cheer the nocturnal darkness, and lead them through the trackless desert; were not these very amiable and exact emblems of our Saviour's merits, and of his holy word ? The former of which are refreshing to the guilty conscience, as the veil of a thick interposing cloud is welcome to a tra- veller in sultry climes. The latter is a light to our feet, and a lantern to our paths, to guide us in the way everlasting. Their passage through Jordan, the priests that bare the ark of the covenant going before them, (Joshua iii. 13, 14, &c.) and standing in the midst of the river, till all the congre- gation were passed over ; this very empha- tically prefigured our great High-priest, bearing our sins, fulfilling the law in our * The divine writer to the Hebrews, inakes the land of Canaan tvpical of " a better country, even of 8n heavenly." Heb. xi. IG; xii, 22, Stead, abolishing death, and mafcrng it a safe, as well as a short transition to life eternal. You will excuse me, madam, for expati- ating upon these topics. They are so in- viting, so pleasing, so comfortable, that I can hardly persuade myself to leave them. If any other parts of the epistle, through a kind of unhappy necessity almost insepara- ble from controversy, should resemble the asperity of the thorn, this, I hope, will bear some affinity to the fragrance of the rose. For which cause it is, that I choose only to touch, and but lightly touch, the one, while I would open the other into a wide expan- sion, and a rich effusion. Let me add one more observation on this head, and I have done. It is apprehended, by very judici- ous persons, that the punishment of the Egyptians, and their total overthrow, may be a presage of the misery and ruin which will sooner or later fall upon individuals and nations that reject the glorious gospel, and vilify its sacred repository. The Bible. If the reasons I have offered are neither tiresome nor unsatisfactory to your ladyship, I shall proceed the more cheerfully to show that the curse was executed as well as pro- nounced. Had it been the senseless extra- vagance of a man intoxicated with liquor, or the rash imprecation of a man heated with resentment, or the designing interpolation of some crafty statesman, would the holy, the gracious, the true God, have set the broad seal of heaven to it ? would he, who overrules all events, have suffered it to suc- ceed, have commanded it to succeed, nay, have brought it himself to pass by a mighty hand and stretched out arm? Impossible to conceive. If, therefore, it was really brought to pass, and with a surprising punc- tuality, and not by any competency of hu- man means, but by the most evident display of divine power, this will be such a proof of its credibility, its reasonableness, and equity, as no one who thinks reverently of the Deity can deny. Canaan was to be a servant to Shem. This was accomplished when the Israelites, the descendants of Shem, conquered the land of Canaan, slew thirty of its kings, and took possession of their cities, Joshua xii. 24 ; when the Gibeonites particularly, who composed one of their principal states, Jo- shua x. 2, became " hewers of wood and drawers of water to the congregation," Jo- shua ix. 27 ; or, in other words, the most menial servants to the lowest of the people. Ry what instruments was this extraordi- nary revolution wrought? by one of the finest armies in the east or west? marshall- ed by the bravest officers, and headed by the most experienced general ? No ; but by raw, undisciplined, enslaved people, who \^■cl■e destitute of military skill, and without any personal qualifications, or wailike iipjia- BOLINGBROKES LETTERS. 0!)7 ratiis for so difficult, 80 dangerous an enter- prise. Through what obstacles was it begun, carried on, and completed ? In spite of the attempts of one potent monarch to detain them in servitude ; in spite of the resolution of several combined kings to dispute with them every inch of ground to the last drop of their blood. A deep river and an arm of the sea must be crossed by six hundred thousand men, with their wives, their chil- dren, their cattle ; and without any vessel to transport them, or any bridge to transmit them. They must dwell forty years in a desolate, inhospitable, barren wilderness, which was infested by ravenous beasts, and fiery flying serpents ; in which there was neither water nor corn, nor any sort of ac- commodation for abode, or sustenance for life. How were all these difficulties surmount- ed ? Not by the arm of flesh ; this was utterly impracticable ; but by the most as- tonishing interposition of Omnipotence. The Egyptian tyrant is humbled, and brought to their terms, by the infliction of ten tremendous plagues. The waters of the river are dried up, and the waves of the great deep are divided, so as to yield them a safe unobstructed passage. A stream gushes even from the hard rock, and gives them drink, as it had been out of the great depths. Prodigious quantities of manna* descend with every morin'ng dew, and sup- ply them, not from the garner, but from heaven, with their daily bread. Vast flights of quails arrive with every setting sun, and drop, like a bird shot through the wing, " in the midst of their camp, and round about their habitations." The walls of an impregnable city fall to the ground at the blast of rams horns, Joshua vi. The sun stands still in the midst of heaven at the voice of a man, Joshua x. 12, 13. All the hosts of the nations, with all their wea- pons of war, are "driven asunder as the foam upon the waters, and cut oif as the tops of the ears of corn." And is it probable, can it be possible, that every element, and all nature, should not only concur, but alter their established course, depart from the fundamental laws of their creation, on purpose to ratify what was bolted out by the patriarch in a drunken revel, or foisted into the text by some He- brew Machiavelian ? Canaan was to be servant also to Japheth. * We are not to tliink that the manna took its name from any resemblance to the medicinal drug, which, among us, is so commonly known and so free (juently used. It is rather derived from the abrupt expression of the Israelites, on their first beholding this wonderful food. They cried out with amaze- ment, Man Hu 9 What is this ? Which exclama- tion, denoting their own surprise, and the unexpected as well as unparalleled nature of the gift, became both a memorial of the one and a denomination of the other. Pursuant to this prediction, dirt not the Greeks and Romans, who derive their Hneage from Japheth, make themselves mas- ters of the residue of Canaan ? Tyre, built by the Sidonians, and Thebes by Cad- mus, were both destroyed by Alexander the Grecian. Carthage, founded by Dido, was, after a long succession of losses, and a vast effusion of blood, demolished by Scipio the Roman ; which losses made Hannibal, a child of Canaan, cry out, with a mixture of astonishment and despondency, " Agnosco fortunam Carthaginis /"* i. e. " I see plain- ly the hand of destiny working ; I see that oracular doom hasting to its accomplish- ment, in these dreadful calamities sustained by Carthage !" If these facts are true, which have the unanimous consent of historians for their support, what can we say of his lordship's assertion, " That Canaan was servant to Shem, though not to Japheth?" (p. 111.) This, I am apprehensive, will be found as false as the following objection is weak, in which he urges, that " Canaan was ser- vant to one of his uncles, not to his bre- thren," (p. 111.) Such a cavil (for cer- tainly it deserves no better name) discovers an utter ignorance of the Hebrew phraseo- logy, or else a strange inattention to it. I would not say, an egregious misrepresenta- tion of it. I thought every one had known, till Lord Bolingbroke undeceived me, that nothing is more common in the oriental idiom, than to express any relatives of the male line by the denomination of brethren.! I hope your ladyship will not think this, or any of my other remarks, indecently free. In the presence of the most high God, all men are upon a level. When the honour of his divine word or glorious attributes is concerned, we are to " know no man after the flesh," 2 Cor. v. 16 ; pay no deferen- tial regard to the distinctions of birth or elevations of character. In these lists, the privileges of peerage cease ; and I should reckon myself the most abject of creatures, if, through respect of persons, I should palliate or secrete the truth, when the ever-venerable oracles of inspiration are treated with contempt. A violation of de- cency this ! by whatever hand it is offered, or from whatever quarter it comes, incom- parably more flagrant than sccmdalum magtia- tum. Pardon, madam, this digression, and per- mit me farther to observe. That the progeny of Ham, in another line, are, to this very day, the slaves of the whole trading world : The negroes I mean ; whose descent is * Vid. Liv. Lib. xxvii. ad finem. t SeeGen. xiii. 8; where Abraham and Lot, though uncle and nephew, are called brethren, Gen. xxiv. 48; where Bethucl, another of Abraham's nephews, is styled his brother, Gen. xvi. 12; xxiv. 27. 698 REMARKS ON from that unhappy man. And what is their country but the market of slavery ? Are not their persons bought and sold as the meanest commodities ? are they not debased to the most sordid, and harassed with the most toilsome drudgery ? made, in the strictly literal sense of the phrase, ser- vants of servants? I have not forgotten what I promised to make appear with relation to the Egyptians, neither shall I overlook what his lordship has remonstrated from the same quarter. " The descendants of Misrdm," he says, "ano- ther of the sons of Ham, were the Egyp- tians ; and they were so far from being servants of servants to their cousins the Shemites, that these were servants of ser- vants to them," (p. 112.) For a season they were ; but this servitude was calculat- ed for the good of their community, and redounded to the glory of their God. It terminated in such a signal deliverance, as brought honour and opulence to themselves, confusion and ruin to their enemies. Doeo it then follow, from this temporary supeV- iority of the Egyptiajis, which ended in so disastrous a manner, that they were except- ed in the denunciation of the curse, or fa» voured with an act of indemnity ? What says the supreme Arbitrator? " The nation whom they serve will I judge," Gen. XV. 14 ; I myself will punish, not by any human instruments, but by my own immediate hand. Accordingly, they were visited with the most dreadful and destruc- tive plagues. In the last of which, the first born, the flower of their kingdom, were cut off; and at length their king and his whole army perished in the Red Sea. Does my lord make no account of these most terrible and unexampled judgments ? Besides, what was the condition of this people in the following ages ? If we con- sult Ezekiel, he will declare it as clearly by the spirit of prophecy as if he had lived on the spot, and seen the face of affairs. Ezek. XXX. 20, 21, 23 ; xxix. 15, xxx. 18. *' And it came to pass, in the eleventh year, in the first month, in the seventh day of the month, that the word of the Lord came unto me, saying. Son of man, I have bro- ken the arm of Pharaoh king of Egypt ; and lo, it shall not be bound up to be heal- ed, to put a roller to bind it, to make it strong to hold the sword. I will scatter the Egyptians among the nations, and will disperse them through the countries. Egypt shall be the basest of kingdoms, nei- ther shall it exalt itselfany more among the nations. And there shall be no more a prince of the land of Egypt." Is not all this confirmed by ancient history, and by the present state of Africa ? From the one we learn that the Egyptians were sub- ject first to the Persians, next to the Gre- cians, then to the Romans, afterwards to the Arabs. And from the other it appears that they now wear the Turkish yoke ; are governed, not by a prince of their own, but by the Grand Seignior and his Bashaws. Nay, let any person look round upon all the countries peopled by the progeny of Ham, and I em much mistaken if he does not find them what the Psalmist describes, " dark places of the earth, and full of the habitations cf cruelty," Psalm Ixxiv. 20 ; the dens of rapine, and the dungeons of ig- norance, where slavery drags the chain, and tyranny lifts the scourge. Insomuch that we need not scruple to say, in the empha- tical words of Joshua, " Not one thing has failed of all tlie good or the evil things which the Lord spake by the mouth of Noah, concerning each of his sons respec- tively. All are come to pass, not one thing has failed," Joshua xxiii. 14. This calls upon me to clear up another part of the prediction, the blessing pro- nounced upon Shem, and the enlargement promised to Japheth ; which will afford a new argument to maintain the authenticity of the passage, and assert its divine inspira- tion. I said, tlie blessing pronounced upon ; because I Would not translate the words, " Blessed be the Lord God of Shem, but, Blessed of the Lord God is Shem." This will put a striking contrast between the doom of the irreligious scoffer, and the re- ward of filial piety : this is what we natur- ally expect from a God who is not unrighte- ous to forget his people, and their labours of love : this sense the original language will very commodiously bear,* and the event seems to require. For how manifest- ly, how eminently, was this benedictive sen- tence fulfilled ! since in the posterity of Shem the church of God was established, and his true worship propagated. From him the Redeemer of mankind, that bless- ing of blessings, according to the flesh sprung. The great enlargement of Japheth's ter- ritories is MO less certain, and no less re- markable. He had for his possession the isles of the sea westwai'd, and the fine ex- tensive countries near them, Spain, Italy, Greece, Asia the Less, all Europe, and the vast regions towards the north, which anci- ently the Scythians, now the Tartars inhabit, from whom the Americans, the people of the new world, seem to be derived. By Japheth's dwelling in the tents of Shem, is meant the conversion of the European Gentiles to the gospel of Christ; who. « Gen. ix. 26. Words of the very same import in the very same construction, are thus rendered by our translators, Deut. xxxiii. 1.3, and will hardly admit of any lUher interpretation, " Blessed of the Lord," &c. BOLINGBROKE'S LETTERS. through a long progression of years, were " aliens from the commonwealth of Israel, strangers to the covenant of promise, having no hope of eternal life, and without any saving knowledge of God in the world," Eph. ii. 12 ; but were in due time persuad- ed to embrace the true faith, were made (as the apostle elegantly speaks, and in a strain perfectly corresponding with the language of ouf prophecy), " fellow-citizens with the saints, and of the household of God." Eph. ii. 19. An event altogether as undeniable as it is important, delightful, and glorious. Upon the whole, I cannot but think that his lordship has planted his battery, and played his artillery, if not like an unskilful, at least like an unsuccessful engineer. He has planted his battery against a place too well fortified to admit of any impression, and that must infallibly triumph over every assault. He has so played his artillery, that it recoils upon himself, and crushes his own design. And this, I apprehend, will always be the issue, when men, even of the finest genius, and most improved capacities, pre- sume to attack the Scriptures of eternal truth. This very passage, instead of depreciat- ing, unspeakably ennobles the divine writ- ings. It shows that they bear the stamp of that all-overruling power which purposes, and none shall disannul it ; of that all-com- prehending knowledge which discerns events long, long before they come into ex- istence. And let any unprejudiced reader judge what degree of esteem those books may fairly challenge, whose least considera- ble, or, in his lordship's opinion, " most obnoxious" parts, have such a depth, and such a dignity of wisdom ! such as will be admired and revered so long as historic truth has any credit, or commercial intelligence any being. Shall I trespass upon your ladyship's pa- tience a little farther? The penmen of the Old Testament carry all the marks of the most disinterested and undesigning sinceri- ty. They record the failings of their fa- vourite and most illustrious heroes, without concealing the punishment inflicted on such miscarriages. The uniform tendency of their narratives and observations is to promote a religion the most pure, the most benevolent, the most elevated imaginable; as remote from all selfish aims, and every low art of collusion, as the heavens are higher than the earth. They were men singularly qualified for their work ; being either eye-witnesses of the facts they relate^ or else contempo- raries with the persons they describe, or still more remarkably distinguished by their ability to work miracles, and their insight into futurity. As to the facts related, some of themhadanniversarysolemnitieson which they were commemorated j some