OF THE
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MANLY PIETY
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( KVAriSfÖ^, IT. U I
PRINITTTLES.
BY ROBERT PHI,!. IP,
OK.MABERLY CÍTAPEL.
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" Í write iinto you—ynvng men."—John.
^ HARTFORD:
ROBINS AND SMITH,
^1845.
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PREFACE
TO
TH.E AMERICAN EDITION
Î'he following work I baye perused with very great
pleasure. It is a fine illustration of the proper manner of
treating the subject of religion. It is full of strong, ori¬
ginal, and impressive thought. Its style is manly, and
vigorous. The views presented are elevated, and are free
from the afiectation of piety, and from the mere technical¬
ity of religion : and from every appearance of cant. It is
such a book as I should wish to put into the hands of an
open and ingenuous young man—as adapted, I should
%think, to excite him to thought, to manly views of piety^
and of the great object of human life. It cannot be de¬
nied, that this age demands peculiarly books of such a <
character as Ihis, and it is gratifying to find these views *
prevail across the waters. The reader of .this book will
alsilbe struck with the coincidence of the views expressed
in it with those which extensively prevail in this country
on the subject of obligation to repentance and faith, and
which havi teen so eminently blessed in the American
churches in promoting revivals of religion. I should es¬
teem it highly auspicious to the cause of pure and eleva- 0
ted piety^ pa|;ticularly among young men, if this book
should receive a very extensive circulation.
* ^ ALBERT BARNES.
r *
é
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CONTENTS.
PAGE
I. MANLY ESTIMATES OF BOTH WORLDS, - - - 9
II. ON MANLY ESTIMATES OF TRUE WISDOM, - - 18
■
m. ON MANLY VIEWS OF SALVATION, - ^ - 29
IV. ON MANLY FAITH IN PROVIDENCE, - - - 41
V. ON MANLY HONESTY IN PRAYER, - - - 51
VI. ON MANLY VIEWS OF DIVINE INFLUENCE, ^ ^ - *70
Vn. ON MANLY VIEWS OF RELIGIOUS MYSTERY, - - 95
0
vni; ON MANLY VIEWS OF DIVINE HOLINESS, - - 111
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Ai AfL^rîii Y' rp p ^ 'P Y
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principles.
NO. I.
on manly estimates of both worlds.
Short as the ordinary term of human life is, it is long
enough to justify both the love and pursuit of knowledge,
business, and happiness. Neither the shortness nor the
uncertainty of our time in this world, should be allowed to
embitter life, or to cloud its rational prospects. We belong
to time as well as to eternity; and it is as much our duty
to meet the fair claims of time manfully, as to meet the
weighty claims of eternity manfully. It is no more a
man's duty to think only or always of heaven, than it is
an ÄwgcZ's duty to think for ever of theearth. Angelshave
both engagements and enjoyments out of heaven, as well
as in it. Hence Paul says, * are they not all ministering
spirits, sent forth to minister for them who shall be heirs
of salvation ? ' But, whatever time or thought their duties
on earth may require, their duties in heaven are not neg¬
lected. They are interrupted, whenever angels are * sent
forth' upon any errand of mercy; but that errand is, it¬
self, just as truly an act of obedience to God, as when
they vail their faces in his presence, or strike their harps
10 MANLY ESTIMATES
before his throne. They know that they are doing Hie
%oill, whether they carry a Lazarus to Abraham's bosom,
or swell the Hallelujah chorus of the new song; and,
therefore, they do both willingly.
In like manner, the duties of life are as incumbent on
us, as the duties of godliness. We are as much bound to
be industrious, as to be devotional. It is, therefore, neither
a sin nor a shame to feel within us, the workings of an
active and enterprising disposition, in reference to this
world. It is indee.d, both sinful and shameful to feel noth¬
ing else. Nothing can excuse or palliate the neglect of
* the world to come.' The neglect of it is madness as well
as crime. We ourselves could not think well of an angel,
who should prefer to be always out of heaven, even if out
on errands of love only. Ministering to the heirs of sal¬
vation, is, no doubt, very proper and pleasing work even
for angels ; but, as it is not the only work they are fit for,
or called to ; and as it must come to an end, when the
world ends, no angel would be justified in setting all his
heart upon it, nor in seeking his chief happiness from it.
There is before him an eternity of higher and holier en¬
gagements; and, therefore, however necessary or pleasant
it may be for ^principalities and powers, in heavenly
places, to learn * by the church the manifold wisdom of
God,* he would not be a wise angel, who preferred to be
always ' sent forth,' from his place before the throne. And
he is certainly not a wise man, who, because there is much
to do in the world, and because he likes to be doing, dislikes
or neglects to think and act for eternity. Into eternity
he can carry nothing of all that he may gain on earth, by
worldly pursuits. lie is, therefore, laboring for what he
*must leave for ever; forget forever; perhaps, curse for
ever ! 'For, what is a man profited, if he gain the whole
world, and lose his own soul ? ' An angel, however often
OF BOTH WORLPS
11
out of heaven, carries with him on his return to heaven,
the souis he has ministered unto on eaith ; and their soci¬
ety, through eternity, will be part of his bliss; but the
man who lives for time only, is fit for hell only ; and even
to it, he can carry nothing out of this world.
On the other hand, I will readily grant, that it would
not be creditable to either the talents or the taste of an
angel, to prefer being always in heaven, whilst there is
work to do on earth, worthy of angels, and well pleasing
«
to God. Were any of them capable (which they are not)
of saying,—' I had rather minister to the heirs of salva¬
tion as they come into heaven, than be sent forth to guard
or guide them ; and much rather minister before the throne
for ever, than do either ; *—this preference, however well
meant, would be ill-judged. It seems highly spiritual ;
but it is really selfish. Ministering for ever before the
throne of God and the Lamb, is, indeed, the highest of all
heavenly honors, and the holiest of all heavenly exercises;
but, as God and the Lamb take a lively interest in the wel¬
fare of the church on earth, and choose that angels should
do so too ; not to do so—would be disobedience against
both divine precept and example, and thus disqualification
for ministering at the throne. Nothing of this kind, howevçr,
does or can occur in heaven. Angels are * swift as electric
flames,' to do the will of God, whether it call them far
within the enshrinements of the eternal throne to adore,
or send them forth to the chambers of death to serve. And
in both, they are equally happy, although not equally at
home ; because they find all their happiness in the divine
approbation ; and that is as much with them when they wait
by a death-bed, as when they worship at * the right hand,
of the Majesty on high.'
Such being the sober, although sublime, facts of their
case, we are fully warranted to believe that, in our own
case, the duties of life are as well-pleasing to God, in their
12
MANLY ESTIMATES
own place and proportion^ as the duties of godliness. It
would neither be manly nor godly piety, to prefer a life of
mere musing, however spiritual, to a life of alternate and
blended diligence and devotion. For, if angels do more
than meditate and worship, it indicates sloth and weakness,
rather than high heavenly-mindedness, to shrink from in
dustry, or to regret the necessity of labor.
It is, however, arrant mental weakness, as well as arro¬
gant impiety, to set up the claims of time against the claims of
eternity. They only clash, when they are made to clash.
In themselves they are neither incompatible nor inconsis¬
tent. In fact, they are intended and adapted by God, to-
help each other. The cares of this world, make the world
to come desirable; and the glories of heaven, make the
glooms of earth tolerable. He, therefore, who lives only
for time, levels himself with the beasts that perish. He
may build a finer house than the beaver, and amass more
stores than the bee, and travel farther than a bird of pas¬
sage, and rival the butterlîy in show, and the nightingale
in song : but, if these things engross his soul, and absorb
all his time, his rational powers are let down to mere ani¬
mal instincts; and the 'teauUs of his life have no more re¬
lation to heaven than the songs of a bird or the pursuits of
a beast. Is this—manly ?
Eternity does not, then, interfere with the fair claims of
lime. • The world to come ' does not interpose its glories
or its terrors, to hide or hinder the proper business of this
world. Instead of this, the future lends and bends all its
high authority to confirm the legitimate claims of the pre¬
sent ; making idleness ' worse ' than infidelity ; hallowing
domestic and social love; upholding the sacredness of
person and property ; and throwing open fields of useful¬
ness to minds of all orders, and to men of all conditions.
Should not, then, the present do equal justice to the future ;
and time admit and honor the claims of eternity?
OF BOTH WORLDS. 13
O, it is pitiable, yea contemptible, to let the things which
are temporal, divert our whole attention from the things
which are eternal ! Were any man, under any pretence,
to care nothing about the affairs of this life, or to do noth¬
ing but mope and muse, we should despise him. Life is
not too short for action, nor too uncertain for enterprise.
All the faculties, and the very form of man, as well as his
wants, prove that he was intended for activity. He prosti¬
tutes as well as prostrates his rational nature, when in a
world like this, he loves nothing, or lives to no purpose.
The sloth of the iorest, and the slug of the garden, reprove
such a creature. Is this censure as deserved as it is de- .
grading? Is it the sober fact, that a space of time, and
sphere of action, confessedly narrow, have yet such strong
claims upon our regard, that it would be despicable to dis¬
pute or evade them? See, then, Eternity throw open its
interminable duration; its entrancing glories; its unutter¬
able horrors: its unchangeable destinies:—shall time be
allowed ^to hide these from us, or to hush up all concern
about them? Where is our sensibility or our common
sense, if the immortality of our being engage none of our
solicitude? A mote may blind the natural eye; but, if a
speck o[únie blind 'the eyes of our understanding' to the
solemn realities of death, judgment, and eternity, our men¬
tal vision must be very weak, or fearfully perverted. It is
despicable indeed, when we, who would not allow the vast
and awful expanse of eternity to eclipse the speck of time,
allow this speck to eclipse that infinite expanse ; flushed as
itis with radiant glories and kindling flames. There might
be some excuse both for our taste and intellect, if we cared
too little about this world, and gave the great bulk of our
time and thoughts to the world to come; but, to give all to
the former, and none, or next to none, to the latter, is utter-
14
MANLY ESTIMATES
ly inexcusable, and unspeakably paltry. Such a choice,
and such conduct, even the devil must despise, however he
may be pleased with the fools who persist in it.
Dr. Johnson has well said, * It is only whatever gives the
past and the future a predominance over the present, that
can raise us in the scale of thinking beings ; ' if, therefore,
the present predominate over both, we roust even sink on
that scale. This is inevitable. There, are, indeed, men
who rise to the heights of philosophy and poetry, by their
familiarity with the past. The wisdom of ages is on their
lips, and the wealth of history at their command. They
are far-sighted in legislation ; and all tact in literature,
And, could time past return, they, of all men, "would be
best prepared to mingle with the mighty dead, and to ac¬
commodate themselves to the ancient forms and feelings of
society. They would be at home with Plato in his taste,
and with Homer in his patriotism, and Socrates in his sa¬
gacity. But as time past cannot return, this predominance
of the past over the future, is an irrational as the pre¬
dominance of the present, because equally irrelevant to
eternity,
I do not underrate such knowledge. He is no ordinary
ihmker who can amass and apply it. It is, however, no
preparation for the society of angels, nor for the fellowship
of the general assembly of the spirits of just men made per¬
fect. The mere antiquary, philosopher, or poet, however
high on the scale of intellect, is low on the scale of wisdom^
if he can prefer an ideal communion with antiquity, to
real preparation for eternity. Besides, if it be noble to
make all the lights of the past bear upon the present, either
as beacons to warn, or as lustres to beautify, it must be ig¬
noble and unmanly to let in none of the lights of immortal¬
ity upon the present. Why should they be excluded?
OF BOTH WORZ.DS.
15
The history of time is not so well authenticated as the re¬
velation of eternity. And if the fate of heroes, or the fall
of empires, teach any useful lessons, surely the final des¬
tinies of the universe cannot be uninstructive. Gain, by all
means, an acquaintance with former ages. A knowledge
of what has been, will enable you to appreciate what is ;
and thus operate as a check on personal vanity and political
extravagance. It is, however what shall be—that alone
can prevent you from living for this world, or prepare you
for the world to come.
This remonstrance against the neglect of eternal things,
and the echoes to it which your own conscience returns,
must not be silenced nor dispose d of by your intention to
look eternity fully in the face, when you are older. Older
is an uncertain event. And if it were not so, it is an un¬
manly excuse. You are old enough to understand, and to
act upon, the reasons for looking the claims of this world
full in the face. You feel already that you have no time
to lose, if you would improve your education or your con¬
dition. At least you see clearly how much time and
thought would be requisite, in order to realize all that you
desire. You ought, therefore, to despise all subterfuges.
' The world to come,' is not a secret nor a mystery. There
are, indeed, both secrets and mysteries belonging to it ;
but, as a state of eternal bliss or wo, it stands out as palpa¬
bly as the alternation of light and darkness in this world.
Indeed, it is far more certain how your principles and char¬
acter will determine your eternal state, than how they will
fix your temporal condition. You may fail to rise in this
world, without being to blame ; but you cannot sink into
hell, but by your own fault. You may be disappointed,
undeservedly, so far as man is concerned, of settling down
in the rank or the relationship which you set your heart
16
MANLT ESTIMATES
upon ; but you cannot miss heaven if you set your heart
upon it. There is no lottery in eternal life, however tem¬
poral life may be one.
In like manner, there is no such mystery about the way
of salvation, as renders the experience of old age necessary
in order to understand it. There are, indeed, mysteries in
the plan of redemption, as well as in nature and providence ;
but it is not * length of days ' that clears them up. It may
suit the convenience of the worldly, the idle, and the sen¬
sual, to pretend that they know not what to believe : but,
whilst they are so dexterous in evading what they ought to
obey, (about which there is no mystery,) it will not be un¬
charitable to suspect, that they see more clearly than they
choose to acknowledge, how the belief of the gospel would
involve obedience. And, what else are your evasions of
the immediate claims of salvation and eternity but a betray¬
al of an unconfessed fact, that you know enough to render
youir indecision inexcusable? Yes, indeed; a glass that
could concentrate into a focus, all the rays of scriptural
light which float and flutter around your understanding and
conscience ; and which should then throw the embodied
blaze upon eternity, would startle you at your smiling in¬
decision. For you know, that the everlasting song of
heaven is, redemption through the blood of the Lamb ; and,
therefore, to take no interest in that song until the evening
of life, is infamous. You know, that without holiness no
man shall see the Lord ; and, therefore, not to follow holi¬
ness until you come to the last stage of the journey of life,'
is base cowardice, or baser rebellion. You know, that ex¬
cept you are born again of the Spirit you cannot enter into
the kingdom of God ; and, therefore, not to pray for the
promised and indispensable renewing of the Holy Ghost,
or not to yield to his strivings, is both ingratitude and in-
OF BOTH WORLDS
17
suit. And then, what aggravates the whole, is, that you
expect to enter heaven at last, although it be the last thing
you now think about, and the least thing in your present es¬
timate of happiness.
How would all this iel\ at the bar of God ? When your
disembodied spirit does take its place at His tribunal, it
must give * an account * of both the deeds done in the body,
and of all the motives from which they were done. Well,
just try, for a moment, how your present reasons for de¬
lay and indecision would bear leMing in the presençe of
God. Perhaps they would not tell well, even to your sis¬
ter or your mother. You could, of course, make out a
case to them, somewhat plausible and satisfactory : but,
could you submit it to God, if you were before God ? I
mean, if you were before his tribunal, beneath the visible
glance of his omniscient eye, with all heaven around you,
and the weight of eternity pressing on your spirit? Thus
you must give in your account! What, then, is the use of
getting up an account to others, which cannot be given in
to Him? You would not attempt to pass off, upon your
mother or your sister, the explanations of your indecision,
which you would give to a person who knew less of your
habits and spirit : and if your heart condemn you before
them, ' God is greater than your heart, and knoweth all
things.'
You may easily close this book upon this close ques¬
tioning; but when God's * books shall be opened^ on the
judgment seat, you cannot close them. The recording an¬
gel that opens them, cannot shut them. All that you
would conceal, or gladly forget, is registered in them, and
will be read to you from them ; and the only way in which
you can be prepared to hear it all, without being over¬
whelmed by despair, is, by setting you heart at once to
18
manly estimates
seek for a personal interest in the great salvation you are
now neglecting.
Perhaps you do not yet see clearly how yoti could set
your heart upon that salvation, without withdrawing it
from everything else. But this is quite a mistake. The
heart must, indeed, be withdrawn from whatever is sinful ;
but from nothing that is truly good or rational. The relig¬
ion-of the Bible has no quarrel with the beauties of na¬
ture or art; with the wisdom of science or literature: with
musical taste, or poetic genius. It forbids and denounces
the pursuit of them, as the chief good ; but it does any¬
thing rather than tie or tame down the mind to despise
them. In fact, it exalts and purifies the mind to enjoy
whatever is lovely or useful ; and ministers liberally to all
that is manly in character, or noble in spirit, or laudable in
enterprise.
' A Christian is the noblest style of manj when he is a
Christian indeed.
I
NO. II.
>
on manly estimates of true wisdom.
*
Those who know best the number and character of the
ancient systems of philosophy, which successively claimed
and obtained the hallowed name of ' wisdom,' or religion,
in Egypt, Greece, and Rome, will least wonder that Paul
should brand them with the epithet ^foolishness} What
else could any man call them, who could say of them (and
I
OF TRUE WISDOM.
19
defy contradiction whilst he said it,) that, * the world by
wisdom knew not God.^ That could not be wisdom,which
left God unknown, and immortality undefined. Nothing
is religious wisdom, that is unable to make man wise unto
salvation. Accordingly, no man in the present day, who
cares anything about his soul, would be so foolish as to take
up with the religious opinions of Plato, Socrates, or Cic¬
ero. Even the infidel admirers of these splendid theorists,
would laugh at any man who should adopt the creed of the
wisest of these sages. It was not, therefore, too sweep¬
ing nor too severe a charge, when Paul called the wisdom
of the wisest heathen, foolishness. He spoke, not of the
talents of the ancient philsophers, but of the results of
their application. The men themselves were anything
but fools. They were the wisest men of their respective
nations, and the master-spirits of the world, in all things
but religion. Some of them almost deserved the em¬
phatic name given to them by their admiring scholars,
—• myriad-minded men* Never, certainly was more
mind concentrated upon the study of wisdom. If ' search¬
ing could have found out God, or unveiled eternity, they
would have made the discovery. But Plato and Sóc¬
rates failed ! and ' what can the man do who cometh af¬
ter^ these kings of intellect and imagination? TJieir sys¬
tems fell before the gospel, like Dagon before the ark,
although the arms of empires upheld them, and the glo¬
ries of the arts enshrined them, and all the uninspired
harps of genius vied in immortal song to immortalize them.
All would not do ! The world soon pronounced their
wisdom foolishness, when God made Christ ' wisdom '
^ unto man, 1 Cor. ii. And now it would be as impossible
to make men Platonists in reality, as to make them Druids.
20
MANLY ESTIMATES
No system has even the appearance of wisdom now, but
from the Christianity that is in it.
We have, therefore, no occasion to ask the old question,
' Where shall wisdom be found for although, as in the
time of Job, 'the depth and the sea* still say, ' It is not in
me,* and although 'destruction and death' can only say,
* We have heard the fame thereof with our ears,' the gos¬
pel says, * It is in me,* and proves the assertion true, by
pointing to myriads whose character on earth, and whose
place in heaven, demonstrates that they were made wise
unto salvation, by applying their hearts to ' the wisdom
which Cometh from above.' Now, thus wise, you desire
and^hope to be sometime, and by the same means too : for
you cannot imagine that the puny dwarfs of modern infi'
delity can ever depose truths, which the giants of. ancient
philosophy could not discover: nor can you dream of
mightier minds arising to eclipse the reasonings or the re¬
search of * the mighty dead.* They do not know the
meaning of mind, (or, with all their talk about the sages
of antiquity, they have never studied them,) who antici¬
pate from the influence of Voltaire as a wit, or of Hume
as a logician, champions of the light of nature, who may
do for Deism what the champions of philosophy could not
do for it The mind of the ancients, as mind^ like the
sculpture of the ancients as art, can never be surpassed in
power or splendor. Christianity has, therefore, nothing to
fear, and infidelity nothing to hope, from 'the march of in¬
tellect.' The march of vice, or of mental vacancy, or of van¬
ity, can alone facilitate the designs of sceptics and scorn-
ers. Christianity has nothing to dread or deprecate, but
inattention to her claims.
I have made these hasty references to the ancients not
so much for the sake of the argument just hinted at, as for
OF TRüE WISDOM
21
the example of attention and application to what was then
deemed wisdom. And, surely, if these sages were fiisci-
nated and absorbed by mere guesses about God and
immortality, the perfect revelation of both deserves our at¬
tention. If they bent their mighty minds to the deliberate
study of nature, until their hearts burned with the con¬
sciousness of power and pleasure, we may well apply
ourselves to the study of redemption. Even angels * desire
to look into ' it, as ' the manifold msdom of God} No
wonder ! Redemption flowed from all the perfections of
the Eternal mind, and from all the sympathies of the In¬
carnate mind. It is the fulness of the Father's grace, and
the brightness of the Son's moral glory. It is the matur¬
ed plan of infinite wisdom, and the loveliest form of infi¬
nite benevolence. The silence of the past eternity was
first broken by its announcement, and the echoes of the fu¬
ture eternity can never sleep for its celebration. The dis¬
closure of the plan of salvation in heaven, drew around it,
as students of the glorious mystery, all the armies of heav¬
en ; and the successive revelations of it on earth, made
the patriarchs forget their pilgrimages—the prophets their
perils—the apostles and martyrs their tortures.
This is the wisdom which solicits our attention ; and ¡t
requires^ as well as deserves serious and fixed attention.
Neither cherubim nor seraphim, angels nor archangels,
deem themselves equal to appreciate or understand it, with¬
out looking into it. • The first created spirit, as well as the
last glorified infant, bends from his throne, or burns in his
orbit, with holy curiosity to comprehend its glories. Yes ; ■
and could all the varied knowledge of all the universe, be
concentrated in one mind, even when all perfect minds are
as powerful as the open vision of a completed heaven can
render them ; that mind would be studious still, and ñrsi
in zeal and zest for continued, and even increasing, attention
22
MANLT ESTIMATES
to this wisdom. Still, no wonder ! Redemption by the
blood of the Lamb, concentrated the entire and intense en-
, ergies of the infinite mind, upon its principles and designs.
Omniscience never wearies of watching its progress ; nor
omnipotence of upholding its claims : nor providence of
making all things work together for its good. Emmanu¬
el 'ever liveth to intercede for,' and the Holy Spirit to
help, all who apply their hearts unto this wisdom.
Such being the character and claims of the wisdom which
maketh wise unto salvation, its own glories might well be
expected to win the heart by their own attractions, howev-
the heart was naturally disposed in itself, or solicited by
other objects. That which thus draws and absorbs the
adoring admiration of beings who need no redemption,
ought to gain, at once, our confidence and love ; for we
need all the blessings of that great salvation, which they
so greatly admire. But, alas, we are capable of trifiing
with eternal redemption, and even inclined to shut our
hearts against all its claims. The very utmost that, of
our own accord, we are willing to do, is, to promise that
some portion of the evening of life shall be set apart to
meditation and prayer. We have no natural inclination to
* number our days^ now, in order to apply our hearts now
to wisdom. When our days on earth shall be nearly num¬
bered for us, by a power we cannot resist or evade, we see
no particular objections to weighing the claims of the gos¬
pel ; but, at present» we hate the thought of death, and
have no natural love to salvation. Whatever we think or
feel, at times, differently from this, springs from another
source than our own nature.
Look, then, at your instinctive tendencies. They are
all against the eternal interests of your soul, and the im¬
mediate claims of true wisdom. Even those tastes which
are most intellectual and refined, prefer human wisdom to
OF TRUE WISDOM.
23
divine. This is as unmanly, as it is ungodly. A heart
thus averse to the great salvation, ought to shock and
shame you.
I am aware that it is easy to expose and upbraid this
state of mind and I know too, that it is sometimes unne¬
cessary to do so. There are moments, when the mind is
all thought, and the heart all feeling.
' The soul, at limes, in silence of the night,
Has flashes—transient intervals of light.
When things to come, without a shade of doubt,
In terrible reality stand fully out.
Those lucid moments, suddenly present
Glances of truth, as though the heavens were rent,
And through the chasm of celestial light,
The future breaks upon the startled sight.
Life's vain pursuits, and time's advancing pace,
Appear with death-bed clearness, face to face,
And immortality's expanse sublime
In just proportion to the speck of time:
Whilst death, uprising from the silent shade.
Shows his dark outline, ere the vision fade ;
In strong rel ief, against the blazing sky,
Appears the shadow, as it passes by ;
And, though o'erwhetming to the dazzled brain,
These are the moments when the mind is sane.*
Jane Taylor.
This is, however, but the sanity of moments. Such
vivid realizations of death could not be kept in habitual
combination with real life or godliness. Indeed, they are
the warning visions of the ungodly, and not the forms ia
which death or eternity presents itself to believers. You
mistake egregiously, if you imagine that those who ' con¬
sider their latter end^ are thus convulsed or overwhelmed
by the prospect. No, indeed : those who, like Paul, 'die
daily,' like him enjoy life daily. Those who, like David,
* number their days, that they may apply their hearts unto
wisdom, are not terrified by night visions, nor thrown on
MANLY ESTIMATES
,the rack whenever they realize 'the valley of the shadow
of death.' These starts and i^orms are the portion of
those who 'put the evil day afar ofE' Those who bring
it near enough for holy purposes, are not haunted by it :
for the fear of death, like the keys of death, is under the
fvoindential government of the Savior, and thus regulated
by His wisdom, as well as alleviated by His grace. In a
word, the fear of death is not allowed to embitter or sad¬
den life, when life is consecrated to the service of God.
Were this well weighed, the real connection between
the acquisition of true piety, and the contemplation of
death, would cease to appear repulsive. I say the real
connection between them, because it is quite different, both
in kind and degree, from the relation you imagine them to
bear unto each other. When you think of piety, you im¬
mediately connect it with the fear of death ; and thus the
admission of its claims seems to you, the admission of a
sad and settled fear of dying soon or suddenly : and the
bare idea of this, is so unpleasant, that; to avoid it, you
evade the claims of religion. You see clearly that you
must number your days, if you would apply your hearts
unto wisdom ; but you do not see how wisdom cheers the
heart that is applied to it. You forget too, that a Christian
has other things to number at the same time with his days.
You think of him, only as counting them upon the dim
dial of suspense; but he is counting too, the number of
the great and precious promises of grace; the number of
the lovely and lofty prospects of glory; the number of
the tender and intense sympathies of his Savior ; the num¬
ber of the sanctifying and consoling influences of the
Holy Spirit ; and the number of the thoughts, perfections,
and purposes of the God of salvation, which are covenant¬
ed upon his side. O, there is more to number than 'the
days of the years of our life.' They must be numbered,
OF TRÜB WISDOM
25
if we would become wise unto salvation : but then in ap¬
plying the heart to that wisdom, we are allowed to number
them upon the dial of a special providence, which the un-
setting and unshifting * Sun of righteousness ' for ever il¬
luminates. Christians, living as Christians, do not live at
the hazard, nor in the suspense, you do. You utterly mis¬
take in imagining that, because they do not put the evil
day afar off, nor forget their latter end, they thus make the
world one vast valley of the shadow of death to themselves ;
or turn the lights of heaven and earth into sepulchral lamps :
or interpret the harmonies of creation as voices from the
tomb. No, indeed ; this is neither the spirit nor the ten¬
dency of the wisdom, which believers learn from Christ :
its natural influence is to endear all that is good and love¬
ly in life, and to • turn the shadow of death into the morn¬
ing* of a glorious immortality.
I am neither pretending nor painting whilst saying this.
I would, indeed, fain charm you into the habit of consider¬
ing your latter end : because my heart's desire is that you
should be wise unto salvation ; but I would not cheat you
into the habit. I will, therefore, readily, although sadly,
allow, that you see many Christians in bondage to the fear
of death, and any thing but cheerful on the pilgrimage of
life. This is, however, their own fault. Either they have
not sufficiently applied their hearts unto the wisdom of the
gospel, and thus missed its strong consolation ; or they
are indulging some wrong habit or temper, which grieves
the Spirit of God : for neither you, nor yet an enemy of
the cross of Christ, can point out one feature of the gospel
which is in the least calculated to make a Christian gloomy,
or to throw a gloom over any thing in life, that is really
good, or practically useful. The gospel proclaims free
pardon, paternal love, special providence, and certain
glory: is there any thing gloomy or depressing in these
8
26
MANLT ESTIMATES
promises? And these are its promises, whatever may be
the opinions or expectations of some of its professors*
Let them, therefore be blamed or pitied as their case re¬
quires ; but do not confound the gospel itself with the con¬
fusion of the weak, or with the distress of the inconsistent.
This is as unfair and unmanly towards religion, as it is to¬
wards taste, to confound the vices of poets with poetry,
or the eccentricities of artists with art, or the vagaries
of philosophers with science. In understanding, be
men!
I repeat it, it is you that live at hazard, and are most lia¬
ble to the fear, and to the stroke, of death : for whilst un¬
decided, you have no security against either. You actual¬
ly yeril your life, far more than it is endangered by the or¬
dinary laws of mortality: for by trifling with salvation,
and thus tampering with the patience and supremacy of
the arbiter of life, you double the risk of a sudden or early
death. Ponder this, if you love life, and desire to see
many days ! I wish you many happy days ; and because
I do so, I tell you plainly, that you are placing the life that
•now is, as well as that which is to come, in a jeopardy, be¬
yond any risk at which believers live, They, indeed, must
die when their time comes; but their 'times are in the
hands ' of their heavenly Father, and their * death is pre¬
cious in His sight : ' whereas, your times are in the hands
of God, as a lawgiver whom you disobey, and as a judge
whom you forget : so that, whilst undecided, you have no
natural nor mediatorial hold upon His forbearance ; for
you are doing nothing, and caring nothing, for any thing
which He has set his heart upon, or for which He spares
life and blesses industry.
True; you have escaped hitherto, and as yet feel no
symptom of decay, nor see any ominous sign of danger,
notwithstanding all your neglect oí the great salvation.
OF TRUE WISOOM
27
True also, you see many spared who are as heedless of
eternal things as yourself, and not a few grown gray in
ungodliness: and 1 have no wish to hide these amazing
facts. They are, however, but one class of the facts which
present themselves to our notice. It is a fact that you do
not wish to grow in impiety ; and this settles that
part of the matter. And it is also a fact, that you could
name many who have been cut down as cumberers of the
ground, or hurried unexpectedly into eternity, even since
you began to prefer the world to God. They reasoned,
just as you do, from appearances, and from probabilities,
and from hopes: and now—where are they ?
I tell you again, you are periling your life by neglect¬
ing godliness. Whilst you stand afar off from the cross
and the mercy-seat, you are upon ground which Provi¬
dence does not watchy by pledge or promise. Even the m-
tercession of Christ does not necessarily nor naturally ex¬
tend to it. If the sweep of His golden censer, or the in¬
cense of His advocacy, embrace at all the neutral ground
on which you linger and trifle, you cannot be sure that
they shield you ; nor can you think that they throw any
protection over your life or pursuits, whilst you place no
fervent prayers in the censer of the Intercessor.
I dare not let you oflf yet ! There is more implied in
these facts, than you imagine. Depend on it, there is a
gross fallacy in your opinion, or a grand defect in the ap¬
peals which are made to you, if you suppose that death
stands at the door of piety, either to alarm or to sadden
believers. The Savior actually and oflîeially keeps back
the hand of death, that we may have time to apply our
hearts unto wisdom ; and he softens the aspect of death,
that we may enjoy composure whilst trying to become
wise unto salvation. It is not in order to confine our
thoughts to death, nor in order to fix them upon tho
28
tfANlV EdTlSÍATES
grave, that God binds us to ' number our days.' He calls
for this consideration of our latter end, for the sake of a
far higher purpose, and of a fer happier emotion. God
takes no pleasure in human musings about mortality, for
their (yvbn sake ; nor does He teach us to try to find pleas¬
ure in them. Death is a curie ; aOd, therefore, the author
of life, and fountain of Avisdom, teaches no such unnat¬
ural lesson, as pleasure from contemplating death, as death.
What He teaches is, how the curse may be turned into a
blessing, and the natural fear of death blended with a hope
full of immortality.« O yes; it is all for the sake of that
wisdom by which this is effected, that God calls or cares
for the habit of numbering our days. He knows perfect¬
ly, and we too, know well that whilst we banish all thought
of dying, we can banish all the claims of salvation ; and
and that whilst we refuse to number our days, we shall not
number our tnerdes nor our responsibilities; and, there¬
fore, He teaches this moral arithmetic. Besides, and I
adjure as well as beg you to remember it, the gospel is the
word of eternal life, and therefore, it will only treat with
manas an heir of eternity. It is not chiefly because we may
not live Zöw^intbis World, that the gospel is so urgent and
authoritative in its appeals ; but because we cannot ' live
always'' in this world. Eternity is inevitably before us!
There is the real reason, for pressing on us the duty of
keeping in sight the end of time. God's object is not to
vex, nor to pain, nor to terrify us, but to inspire us with
the sublime consciousness of our own immortality, that we
may spring up from the trammels of days and years, to
lay hold on eternal life. He wants man to be mahly in
godliness ; and, therefore. He treats him as a man, and
that with god-like solemnity, and father-like tenderness.
In a word, He as much consults our happiness Avhen He
sets us to number our days, as when He Crowns our days
OF TRUE WISDOM
29
with health and prosperity : for as the latter are intended
to furnish us with opportunities of becoming wise unto
salvation, so the former is intended to enforce and secure
the improvement of these opportunities.
Remember, then, the real connection of death with reli¬
gion: godliness hath the promise of this life, as well as of
that which is to comè. To all, of whom it can be truly
said, * Ye are Christ's,' God says, 'All things are yours,
whether life ox death.^ 1 Cor. iii. 21, 22, 23.
It is, therefore, unmanly to confound the vulgar notions,
which are afloat on this subject, with the spirit of the gos¬
pel. That is not only opposed to all gloomy ponderings
about death, but full of securities for life, as well as for
salvation. No man has such a hold upon the tenure of
life, or is so far beneath the shadowing wing of provi¬
dence, as the man who lives unto God ; because God has
great purposes to carry on in the world by godly men ;
and, therefore, He takes a special interest in sparing them
whilst His work wants them. It does not, indeed, want
some of them so long as we imagine ; but, as it will al¬
ways go on by instrumentalityy life must be always safest
in his service. In a word, life can have no moral securi¬
ties, apart from godliness.
NO. III.
4
on manly views of salvation.
Amongst the many points of view in which the ora¬
cles of God exhibit the salvation of the soul, that is at once
the most splendid and profound, which represents it as
30
ON MANLY VIEWS
* the life ' of the soul. • Hear, and your soul shall live,'
was the appeal with which the prophets opened or closed
their . messages of mercy from God to man. ' He ^
that believeth on me shall have everlasting life,' was
the grand motive by which the Savior commended the
claims of the gospel. Now, no familiarity with this view
of salvation, should be able to hide from you, the sublim¬
ity or the glory of the promise and prospect of the eter¬
nal life of the soul. Your soul, indeed, can never die,
in the sense of becoming extinct. The immortality of its
being is beyond the reach of death or decay. No piety is
necessary in order that your soul should live for ever ;
and no impiety can lead to its annihilation. The soul is
deathless, independently of both. God cannot be provok¬
ed to extinguish the immortality of the most provoking
spirit in the universe. The life of the body may be per¬
iled by sin, and cut short in judgment; but sin can never
rouse judgment against the vitality of the soul : for de¬
vouring fire cannot consume it, nor ' the worm that, dieth
not ' waste it. All the torments of hell will as much up¬
hold the life of the spirit, as they will torture the powers
of the spirit.
It is not, therefore, natural immortality, or living for
ever, that the oracles of God set before us, when they pro¬
pose to us the eternal life of the soul. Its endless being
is a matter unalterably settled by creation. Neither pro¬
vidence nor judgment will ever disturb that appointment.
It is, therefore, the well-being of the immortal soul, that is
called its life, by the scriptures : and this being the fact of
the case, it can commence now, as well as continue for ev¬
er ; for the well-being of a soul cannot, be so dependent on
circumstances, as to be impossible, out of heaven. It can¬
not, indeed be perfect out of heaven, because the soul it¬
self is both imperfect in its faculties, and unholy in its af-
OF SALTATION.
31
fections: but, as the happiness of heaven will consist in
the perfection of knowledge, character, and safety, the pre¬
sent happiness of the soul must be attainable here, just in
proportion to the degree in which we acquire part of the
same knowledge—part of the same character—part of the
same safety, which are enjoyed there in perfection. Now
these sources of the soul's well-being are not confined to
heaven. It is as possible to obtain some holiness here, as it
is Impossible to be unholy there. The safety of the soul
on earth may be rendered as certain as the stability of an
angel in heaven. And, as revealed Godhead is the same
—in essence, character, and will—as unveiled Godhead—
much of the same knowledge, which is the bliss of glori¬
fied spirits before the throne, may be learnt on the footstool,
andthusbethe source of some real blessedness to the soul
now*
Nothing is more irrational or unscriptural than the hol¬
low notion, that heavenly blessedness is confined to heaven.
So far, indeed, as it consists in entire and eternal exemp¬
tion from all natural and moral evil, it is all within 'the
gates of the new Jerusalem but so far as this beatific vis-
%
ion is intellectual, glimpses of its glory flash over the
walls of the celestial city and shine down upon this world.
The revealed fact that God is love, is just as true here,
as that fact unveiled, is transporting there ; and, therefore, it
can produce in us some of the same joy. The revealed
fact that the Lamb slain can save unto the very uttermost,
because He everliveth to intercede, is just as true here, as
the sight of His intercession is inspiring there ; and, there¬
fore, the belief of it must give some of the happiness which
is created by the sight of it. In a word, however much
more and better God and the Lamb are known by the gen¬
eral assembly in heaven, they are known in no different
character from that in which they are revealed on earth.
32
ON MANLY VIEWS
They are not different beings on the eternal throne, from
what they are in the everlasting gospel. * It is, therefore, ,
in degree, not in kirvdt that the spiritual happiness of heav¬
en differs from the joy and the peace, which springs from
believing the truth concerning salvation.
Let, therefore, no slothful or sluggish mind divert your
attention from the sublime fact, (for it is as sober as it is
sublime,) that the eternal life of the soul may begin now ;
nor from the solemn fact, that it must begin here, if the soul
. would live for ever in heaven. Eternal life there, is as
much the continuation of loving and serving God here, as
' the second death^ or eternal misery, is the continuation
of disliking and disobeying God. Both are the everlas¬
ting on-goings of the dispositions and doings of time.
Neither heaven nor hell will be new things, in their great •
moral characteristics, to those who shall inhabit them.
Hell will be as much the perfection of sin, as heaven will
be the perfection of holiness. Both virtue and vice are
now the foretastes, in some measure, of what they ^ shall
be : ' for the former is * the savor of Ufe unto life ; ' and the
latter ' the savor of death unto death!
Such,being the solemn facts of the case, you ought never
to think of heaven, without, at the same time, thinking of
the absolute necessity of spiritual life now. It is mere trifl¬
ing with the great salvation, to regard the gift of eternal
life, as something altogether in the next world. It never
can be a future blessing to you, unless you obtain the prin¬
ciple and hope of it as a present blessing; for it is as much
intended by God for present use, as for future enjoyment ;
to bless in time, as to beatify eternity ; to improve this
world, as to perfect the world to come.
On the other hand, never think of the necessity of imme¬
diate spiritual life, without, at the same time, thinking of a
»
glorious immortality. Always look at eternity, when you
OF SALVATION.
33
sit down to weigh the present claims of godliness ; for as
mere duties^ devotion, selfdenial, circumspection, and pru¬
dence, will not always enforce themselves by their own na¬
tive influence. Not, however, that their innate excellence
is insufficient to commend them ; for they are worthy of
all attention : but because the world can easily upset their
claims. It can, alas, too readily, make out a case against
godliness, even when the light of eternity is let in upon duty
and devotion. Things that are seen and temporal will,
therefore, carry the point against piety, unless the things
which are unseen and eternal are kept in view: for it was^
only whilst he '•looked'* at the latter, that Paul, even, could
keep the former in their own place. There must, therefore
—there must—be a frequent recognition and realization of
what you intend to he for ever—to do for ever^—to try for
ever—io feel for ever in heaven—if you would do, feel, or
be, on earth, what becomes and behooves an expectant of
glory. To leave your character to be shaped by circum¬
stances, or modified by accident, will no moremeetenit for
the inheritance of the saints in light, than the waves of
the sea will lash the rocks on the shore into forms of life
and loveliness. The action of events upon the character
may alter it somewhat for the better: but not at all accord¬
ing to the model of the Divine image : circumstances can
no more work out a likeness to Christ, than the stormy
waves can chafe the rude rocks intp the sy^nmetry and truth
which followed the chisel of Phidias and Canova. 'Ye
must be born again '—if you would enter the kingdom of
heaven : and ye cannot be born again of the Spirit of God,
unless you allow the word of God to bring the great salva¬
tion before your mind, just in the light which Christ pre¬
sented it—radiant with the glories, and enhanced by the
glooms, of eternity. This is its real aspect in the Bible.
It embraces time, but it is based on eternity. It does not
34
ON HANIT VIEWS
forget that we are mortal ; but it wooes and warns as by
spirit-stirring appeals to our immortality.
Your soul, then, needs nothing less than eternal life;
and it can only inherit that in heaven, by acquiring a title
and meetness for heaven now. Do you believe this /
However that may be, no one understands this, agre-eably
to the revelation of the fact, who disbelieves that sin has
brought the sentence of * the second death ' upon his soul,
and the seeds of spiritual death into his soul. Do you
think this * a hard saying,' to apply to yourself, or a harsh
construction, to put on your condition as a sinner ? If so,
—if, indeed, you have any suspicion of its being so, do not
blink it. Bring out all the suspicion and dislike which
you really feel ; for you can make nothing savingly" use¬
ful of the gospel, until you want its grace to take off the
curse of the law from your soul, and to quicken your soul
into spiritual life. It is all lost time and labor to apply to
Christ for anything less than deliverance from ' the wrath
to come;' or to apply to the Holy Spirit for any thing less
than a ' new heart.' Remember, it was to 'seek and to save
theZo5/,' that Emmanuel came into the world, and poured
out his soul unto death. He died, that we might live.
You might, therefore, just as well say, that He did not die
for sin, as think that you are not dead, in law, by sin. If
you do not deserve the wrath of God, why did He endure
the wrath of God? If ^^ou are not under the curse, Avhy
was He made a curse for you ? Can your dislikes stand out
in the face of these home questions? Can you even doubt,
for a moment longer, whether you are exposed to the sec¬
ond death ? For, do you not see, that if you maintain that
you are not condemned by the law, you cannot even imagine
that Christ died to justify you, by grace ? In like manner,
cavils against the deadness which the influence oí sin has
produced on the soul, are, in fact, cavils against the work
OF SAtTATION
35
of the Holy Spirit; for, if no moral death has affected the
powers and passions of your soul, you are not a subject for
divine operations. They begin by quickening the sou^ ;
and ' it is the Spirit that quickeneth : ' so that you actually
cut yourself off from the very source of spiritual life, whilst '
you question the fact of spiritual death in your own case.
Such solemn considerations are, I am aware, almost a
temptation to helieve any thing, however bad, of ourselves,
rather than risk the tremendous consequences of funning
directly in the face of the work of the Son and the Spirit.
Indeed, I would not have ventured to bring the matter to
such a startling point, without more prefacing, had I not the
prospect of leading you through this subject step by step,
and enabling you, thus, to judge for yourself, more calmly
than a strong appeal will allow. I must content myself in
the meantime, however, with simply telling you, that all
your aversion to divine things is just the deadening effect
of sin upon the soul; and that it is just as sure that the
curse of the law has passed upon your soul, as that you
have broken the law. You may not feel it now, any more
than you feel it on your body ; but the sentence of death is
upon botL How can you, then, imagine that your soul is
not under it, »seeing your body is under' it? But for sin,
the body had never been liable to temporal death ; and as
that cannot touch the soul, the second death is the sentence
of the law on the soul. Here, then, is a predicament of
responsibility and peril, that may well awaken in your
soul, the piercing cry, • What shall I do to be saved? what
shall I do to inherit eternal life ? *
Now, what do you think ought to be done, that your soul
may live Mw/o God here, and wíA God hereafter? You
have, of course, heard and read enough of the gospel to be
aware that the proper answer to this question is, * Believe
in the Lord Jesus Christ and thou shalt he saved,^ Well ;
S6
»
ON MANLY VIEWS
^oes that answer at all relieve your fears ? Salvation is by
faith in Christ: does that bring it any more within your
reach, than if it were by works? What do you think you
cm make of believing for everlasting life ? What do you
intend to try, when you shall attempt to exercise faith on
Christ for salvation ? What is faith ? What ought you to
believe zhoMt Christ? Why is believing made the first
thing, and the only thing, required in order to obtain
life?
I multiply these questions not to confuse you, but to bring
before you all the confusion which exists in your own mind
on this subject. These questions could not confuse you, if
you understood the subject. Let them, therefore, set you
to define to yourself what you mean by faith. Tell your¬
self, what you really suppose it to be, and what you intend
to do when you try to believe.
Well ; what think ye of faith ? I suppose I may safely
say for you, that you regard it as * some great thing ' which
you would be very glad to possess, but which you hardly
know how to obtain. I hope I may add to this, that you
regard it as the gift of God ; as the fruit of the Spirit ; and
thus as a holy principle of love and obedience. No believ¬
ing is true faith, which has not this character and spirit.
Well, now ; how do you propose to obtain this precious
faith? Here, perhaps, is your chief difficulty. You see
what the principle of faith ought to be and to do ; but, how
to acquire it, is the question. Yes ; and it is a very solemn
question ! We must, however, keep our senses amidst all
its solemnity, if we would arrive at any sober-minded con¬
clusion. What, then, do you think of trying, in order to
obtain saving faith ? Perhaps you have not made up your
mind on this point yet You see that, in some way, the
gift of faith must come from God ; and feel as if you must
wait, until he implant the principle in your heart. 1 mean
OF SALTATION*
37
hy waiting, what you mean, not utter idleness nor inatten¬
tion, but waiting in the use of means. This is your plan ;
andy should you, on some happy day, feel this precious faith
springing up in your heart, you intend to exercise it very
freely and fully upon the Savior : but, until you feel some¬
thing of it, how can you (as you say) exercise it ?
Now I think, I at length understand you; and you are
*
not displeased to see, that when your ideas are put into
words, there is more clearness and connection in them than
you at first expected to find. It is also rather gratifying to
find, that you are not twitted os if you were utterly igno¬
rant or indifferent on the subject. I have, indeed, charged
you with confusion on the point, but I have given you cre¬
dit both for solicitude and sincerity. Well ; will you give
me credit for equal sincerity, when I tell you, that however
well you mean, you quite mistake the way in which believ¬
ing the gospel gives life to the soul It is not faith itself
that gives life ; but the gospel which is made the means
of faith and life too, at the same time, by the Spirit of God.
You will understand this distinction, if you will substitute
for the word ' believe,* another scriptural word, which is
equally connected with the promise of salvation* I mean,
the word ' hear.* God says expressly, * Hear and your
soul shall live.^ Now you misunderstand the gospel sadly,
if you do not see that what you hear in it, is the only thing
there is to believe, or from which life can be obtained.
What the gospel says, is the source of faith and hope too ;
so that if what we hear from it do not comfort us, faith
cannot comfort us ; for there is nothing to believe, but just
what, is said. Looking out to the gospel for truth, and
not looking into the heart for faith, is, therefore, the way
to obtain salvation. All the hope, all the encouragement,
God gives to us, is in what He tells us of his mercy in
Christ Jesus. It is by ' glad tidings,' that He gladdens
38
ON MANLY VIEWS
the heart; and» therefore, it is only in listening to them,
and in welcoming them as such, that the Holy Spirit re¬
news the heart.
Let no one confuse you on this matter: there is nothing
in faith itself, hut believing; and there is nothing to be¬
lieve but just what God says. What else could there b^
seeing that ' faith cometh by hearing, and hearing by the
word of God?' It is indeed, 'the fruit of the Spirit:'
but, let the Eternal Spirit himself tell you, how He pro¬
duces it. * The Holy Ghost saith, to-day if ye will htm
my voice,' Heb. iii. Remember also, how the Savior sum¬
med up, in his apocalyptic appeal, all his ministerial les¬
sons on the office of the Holy Spirit : * He that hath an ear
let him hear what the Spirit saith unto the churches.'
This is teaching to profit ! Here we are solemnly and
authoritatively summoned away from all idle and vague
wishing for the work of the Spirit,—to give immediate
heed to the word of the Spirit, if we want to experience
his influences. This is an intelligible process, for becom¬
ing wise unto salvation, by faith in Christ Jesus. It is
also a testing process ! A man may flatter himself, that he
is very willing to be a true believer, so long as he regards
faith only as a grace or a gift he has to wait for ; but, let
him fairly meet the claims of the gospel on his immediate
attention ; and mark, impartially, how he likes to hear it
seriously—to read it prayerfully—to ponder it deeply, to
submit to it meekly, and act on it honestly, so far as he un¬
derstands it—and he will soon see the real state of his
heart before God, as well as discern the mighty difference
there is between waiting for a gift and seeking for one.
The sober fact of your case is, that you just desire faith as
much, as you delight to acquaint yourself with the way of
salvation ; and no more than you are concerned about
your own salvation. The real degree of your willing-
OF SALVATION
39
ness to be indebted to grace for the gift of faith, is, just the
degree of your willingness to give ' good heed ' unto the
things which belong to your everlasting peace. If you
are not inclined to lay them to heart now, you are not wil¬
ling to be a believer now, nor yet waiting for faith.
You are, in fact, standing idle, in a place, a position, anda
spirit, to which that gift of God is not promised. Hear
the Spirit ! if you would have the Spirit to help you.
Show that you prize and long for His renewing work on
your heart, by listening with deep attention to His word
concerning all that Christ has done, and alhthat God in
Christ is. This is the truth—to be believed ! It is to give
this truth the force of truth on the mind, that the Holy
Spirit works and witnesses.
And, what glorious truth it is ! Well may it be 'the in¬
corruptible seed ' by which men are born again of the
Spirit, and from which He raises the harvest of faith and
holiness. O, hear it, for yourself, and yourself! Re¬
tire alone with God, and listen to Him, as if He spoke to
you only. You have not given Him a fair hearing in
public, if you have not thus listened to him in secret. You
have hearkened to the gospel, only as a system of doctrine,
or as a scheme of duty, and notas the heaven-sent message
of mercy and grace to your soul, if you have not gone
alone with God, to hear it again, as from his own lips.
Is it necessary to say to you, that the gospel is worth
hearing ; or to ask you, whether you ever set yourself to
hear it as the glad tidings of God's good will to your soul ?
You have, of course, listened to gospel sermons, and com¬
pared one sermon with another, and perhaps compared them
all with their texts, and with the tenor of Scripture. So far
well. But this is not hearing that your soul might live ;
that you might know what God feels for you ; that you
might see your own way and welcome to escape from the
40 ON HANLT VIEWS
wrath to come. You have listened and heard; and, no
doubt, with some desire to get good from the gospel. You
may even have felt, at times, that you were profiting under
it ; and seen very clearly how great good might be deriv*
ed from it. But, pause now, and meet this one simple
question,—what do you really mean by getting good under
the gospel ? What good do you expect ? One thing you
mean is, of course, that you yourself should grow bet¬
ter in heart and character. So far weil. Nothing can
do us real good, unless by making us really good. That
is the practical design of all that God has said to us in the
gospel. He .begins, however, by doing us good, in order
to make us good. He doeth us good at once by the gos¬
pel itself ; for the moment a man hears it as * good news,'
he gets good from it, and continues to get good from it
while he continues to hear it as good news. No man can
hear it as good news, without getting good from it ; for it
gives hopes at once—encouragement at once—by warrant¬
ing an immediate application to God for mercy. This is
not, indeed, all the benefit it begins with ; but, without this,
nothing else could do us good.
You are, therefore, not thoroughly in earnest about salva¬
tion; or, like 'the heath in the desen,' you 'know not
when good cometh,* if what you hear in the very first ap¬
peals of the gospel to you, fail to do you good ; for as
it opens with the express assurance, that ' God is in Christ
reconciling the world to Himself,' 'you must be unwilling,
to be reconciled yet, or you are not fully aware of your
need of reconciliation. That—you do need, however, as
much as you need to grow better. Indeed, you never can
improve in character before God; until your heart is
right with God and right it will not be made by the Spirit
of God, until you take the word of God for all the mercy
and grace you require.
41
NO. IV.
on manlt faith in providence.
Of all the pompous inanities of a ' talking fhilosophy^
the most contemptible is the pretence, that the greatness
and grandeur of the universe render the affairs of this
world, and especially of individuals, too insignificant to be
regulated by a special Providence. Because, forsooth, the
solar system is immense, and systems of suns magnificent,
and space as brilliant as boundless, sciolists argue, that
man is too mean, to be an object of divine solicitude or of
providental care. The men who talk thus, profess to be
influenced by lofty ideas of God, and by a sacred regard
to His majesty. They say, that it is both vulgar and pre¬
sumptuous, to imagine that the Great Supreme should no¬
tice little things, or interfere with the course of human
affairs. It may be worthy of Him, they allow, to sustain
the great laws of Nature, and to superintend the universe
as a whole ; but, to hear the prayers, or heed the conduct,
of individuals, they deem unworthy of God. Thus they
profess to exalt the Deity ! There is, however, nothing
bo vulgar as this, in all the common notions of Providence.
The language of this theory is fine ; but the principle of
it is coarse, and the spirit of it mean, and its whole aspect
more degrading to Deity, than the lowest notion of His provi¬
dence, which the weakest Christian entertains. For, this
theory confines the attention of the eternal mind to thé
4
42
OF MANLY YAITH
mindless parts of creation—^to masses and motions of mere
matter; whereas, the most vulgar theory of Providence,
places God in the province of life and mind—a sphere
which has some resemblance to Himself, and with which .
He can hold some rational intercourse, or feel some natural
sympathy. Suns and systems, and all the vast machinery
of the universe, have no affinity with the divine nature,
and no consciousness of the divine care ; and, therefore,
I
to make them the sole or the chief objects of divine atten¬
tion, is to degrade God. They are, indeed, immense and
magnificent ; but, in themselves, they are as base as they
are bulky, and as inert as they are innumerable.
How, then, can that be an exalted idea of God, which
confines his care and complacency to mere «machinery, and
excludes from both, beings capable of knowing and enjoy¬
ing both? O, the grossest superstition was never«so vul--
gar, as this vapid refinement 1 Superstition Kas always,
and at least, represented the Infinite mind as occupied
about mind, and as subordinating matter to the improve¬
ment of spirits ; and although sometimes too familiar, and
at other times too fanciful, in its details of Providence, it
was never so brutish as to fill the heart or hands of Deity
with machinery. It remained for men, calling themselves
philosophers ! to do this. And most fully have they ver¬
ified the apostolic proverb by it;—''professing themselves
to be wise, they became fools?
This sarcasm is not too severe, even if these refiners
regard every star in space, as an inhabited world, and all
the inhabitants as perfect beings. That is, certainly, a
splendid conception, and as probable as it is sublime. It
was most likely this view of the universe, which compel¬
led David to exclaim, * What is man that thou art mind¬
ful of him; or the son of man, that thou visitest him ? '
The holy amazement, (or as Warburton calls it, ^ the sa-
IN PROVIDENCE.
43
cred horror') which breathes and burns in this exclama¬
tion, must be shared by every one, who, like David, 'con¬
siders the heavens ' in this light.
The moment we vividly realize to ourselves a boundless
universe teeming with brighter worlds and higher orders
of beings, we begin to see their countless claims upon the
notice of God, and to hear the sphered harmony of their
worship, and to feel the superiority of their nature ; and
thus to find our own level. So we ought It is, however,
the brutes' or the devil's level, which that man sinks to,
who concludes that God cares nothing about mankind;
for it is just as likely that God should care for men as for
angels. He * humbleth Himself,' when he condescends to
' behold the things which are in heaven,' as well as when
He watches over the earth. The highest seraph is not
'so much above the lowest creature, as he is beneath the
Creator. As, therefore, the Creator does condescend, even
when he rules amongst the armies of heaven, nothing can
disprove His rule amongst the inhabitants of the earth;
for there is no such difference between angelic and human
beings, as to render the government or the guardianship
of man unworthy of God.
We are, indeed, utterly unworthy of such a Providence
and especially of such Grace, as He exercises on our be¬
half; but, as both are exercised for the express purpose of
training up human spirits to angelic perfection and eter¬
nal felicity, both are just as worthy of God, as is the moral
government of the anfallen universe. Dr. Chalmers, if
he has not exhausted this subject in his Astronomical Dis¬
courses, has embodied it in forms of power and glory,
which fascinate equally the understanding and the imag¬
ination.
It is not, however, in this department oí the question,
that the disbelievers in a special Providence unmask them-
44
ON MANLY FAITH
selves fully. It is when prayer is praposed» as the means
of averting or mitigating the calamitous visitations of
Providence. Then—the disbelievers show themselves in
their true colors, and meet the proposal with sneers or
sophisms. I say—the proposal for public prayer; for by
the time that is carried into effect throughout the nation,
the calamity that calls for it, has either created a public
voice which drowns the hissing of sceptics, or made them
• believe and tremble.' The recent visitation of pestilence
in this country, had this elfect. Whilst that siroc hovered
on the confines of the land, or only swept through the
lanes of vice and wretchedness, the witlings of the senate,
and the leviathans of the press, vied with each other in
ribaldry and fool-hardiness. Prayer and humiliation were
put upon a level with the hurdh'fences^ which Bome one was
said to have placed around his farm for protection. But'
when the crisis came, and ' the high places ' of the earth,
in common with the lowest, were perilous ; and when the
sound heart of the nation sent the nation to its knees, even
infidels were awed into silence. Journals that had never
named Providence before, except to ridicule it, and never
referred to God, except by swearing, slipt into their leading
articles, from time to time, such admissions of both, as be¬
trayed their own alarm. The cravens of that crisis may
choose to forget this fact ; but history will not forget that
they trembled quite as much as the men who &sted and
prayed then.
Fears, I am fully aware, do not establish facts, however
they may illustrate them. Let us, therefore, look at the ar¬
gument against the use of prayer, as it is put forward,
before the flutterings of the heart make the lips falter, or
• the spirits sink. Its validity, if it be valid, should not be
judged, whilst its authors are almost frightened out of their
wits by physical danger. Well; it is this: 'that as fam*
IN PROVIDENCE.
45
ine, pestilence, and all kinds of peril, have, of course, nat¬
ural causes^ their removal or mitigation, in answer to pray¬
er, would involve a violation of the great laws of nature.'
This is really great nonsense ; butas it is called philosophy,
and is sometimes gravely treated by true philosophers, we
must, 1 suppose, notice it.
Now, certainly, a violation of the great laws of naturè,
is a very solemn matter. But, what law (great or little)
of nature, requires to be altered or relaxed, even for a mo¬
ment, in order to make room for the influence of prayer?
When prayer is for life or health, there may be moral
causes why God should not vouchsafe to answer it ; but
there can be no natural causes to prevent Him, even
when the atmosphere is charged with pestilence. Even
then, he has no occasion to neutralize the natural effluvia
that floats around us, nor to direct its currents from our
path, in order to preserve us : He has only to will the
continuance of our moral frohation^ as * space for repent¬
ance,' or as opportunity for service ; and life is sure, the
end is gained, without touching a law or a wheel of the
universe. It is not by any, nor by all, these laws, that
the soul is immortal or áccountable. Moral laws alone
can effect the term of its probation ; and if they require it
to be either prolonged or shortened, nothing in the course
of visible or invisible nature can prevent it. The proba¬
tion of the man, and the course of nature, go on together.
Thus all that requires to be done, in order to the continu¬
ance of life, is to continue the soul as a candidate for eter¬
nal life ; then disease, however prevalent or pestilential,
can no more dislodge the probationary spirit, than it infects
thé angelic spirits who move and minister among the
death-beds of the heirs of salvation,
A
This, I am aware, is argument, only to those who be¬
lieve the revealed responsibility and probation of man.
46
ON MANLT FAITH
With those who do not, it will go for nothing. True : but
it makes their assumption of the Christian name, and their
protests against the name, Infidel^ go for nothing also !
Thus, if it prove nothing to them, it proves much concerw
ing them. It does not convince them of the truth as it is
in Jesus ; but it convicts them of hypocrisy, in pretending
tô pay homage to Christianity ; and thus unmasks to you
the men who mock at prayer, and equivocate about Prov¬
idence.
Those secret disbelievers who have discernment enough
to see this, and selfish reasons for evading detection, shel¬
ter themselves under the acknowledged cessation of mira¬
cles; and parry off argument from general principles, by.
asking, whether we expect God to work a miracle for our
preservation, when we pray in times of danger ? This
also is a paltry subterfuge ! There is nothing but empty
sound, in the talk about the natural connection between
cause and effect, when life is periled by peculiar diseases.
In some states of the atmosphere, the cause of disease is
equally present to all who are under the same meridian ;
but it does not produce the same effect, even upon all who
are of the same temperament and habits. One is taken,
and another left. Some die; many suffer; and more es¬
cape. Now, although it would be unwise to call the es¬
cape of the many a miracle, it is unquestionably in conse¬
quence of the natural effect not following the natural cause,
in their case. They inhaled, unhurt, or with little injury,
the same air which proved fatal to their compeers in age
and circumstances.
The Christian ascribes this exemption of the many, to
a special providence, which spares them for the probation
of grace or of glory ; and thus he gives both a sufficient
and a sublime reason for the event ; but, to what can the
infidel ascribe it 1 He has no general principle to resolve
IN PROVIDENCE.
47
it into, which can explain it. His great general principle,
that canse and effect follow each other inevitably and inva¬
riably, it gives the lie to, so far as life and death are con¬
cerned, And as to what is called accident and chance
these are things which, however he may talk of them in
order to avoid answering awkward questions, are as in¬
compatible with his system as miracles, or an extraordina¬
ry providence.
Dr. Chalmers has grappled with the infidel philosophy
of our time, on this subject, in his own way: and, as I am
not aware that he has published his argument yet ; and as,
the report 1 have of it, is not unlike himself, I will embody
the substance of it
• Observation carries us a certain way along the chain of
causes and effects ; but above our loftiest ascent there are
other phenomena, which we vainly try to reach. So it is
in all philosophy. After reaching the highest ascertaina¬
ble causes, there are others still higher, which distance all
our powers of research ; and a wide region beyond all our in¬
vestigation, of which we can positively say nothing. It may
be under the the control of higher beings in the universe ;
or nature may be like a chain, of which a few lower links
are visible : but the upper link of which, is appended to
the throne of a prayer-hearing and prayer-answering God.
It may be by a responsive touch at a higher part of the
chain than is within our observation, that prayer meets
with its answer. It is not amidst the seen and visible
causes where it would be a miracle ; but by an unseen,
though not less efficient, touch amongst the remote and oc¬
cult causes, that God answers prayer. If it be in the lat¬
ter way, there may well be a providence, as special as the
wants of His dependent family, without at all infringing
on the constancy of the course of nature. If the respon¬
sive touch were given within the sphere of observation,
48
ON HANLT FAITH
then the answer would be a miracle, or a contravention of
the known laws of nature. But if it be without the
sphere of observation, then the answer may be as effec¬
tual, without any violence to any sequence of visible na¬
ture. The reaction of the answer strikes at a higher part
of the chain, than we see : not by a visible movement in
the experimental region below, but by an invisible nlove-
ment in the transcendental region above. It is there—that
the Supernal Power of the universe, the Cause of causes,
puts forth an influence, which is propagated downwards
to the lowest extremity of the chain ; ànd thus He carries
forwards events in answer to prayer, without disturbing
the visible mechanism of nature. It is thus we live under
the care of a presiding God, and yet amid all the regular¬
ities of a harmonious universe.
' But instead of treating it as a general argument, let us
take some individual examples. When the sighing of the
midnight storm sends a fearful agitation into the mother's
bosom, as she thinks of her sailor-boy, tossed on the tem¬
pestuous deep, the advocates of a hard and inflexible con¬
stancy in nature, would forbid her to pray. According
to them, prayer to the God who holds the elements in his
hand, is as useless as to the elements themselves. Yet na¬
ture strongly prompts her aspirations for the safety of her
boy ; and, if our argument be true, there is nothing in
science to repress them. God can answer her, not by in¬
terfering with second causes, or reversing the changes of
the heaving atmosphere ; but by a touch of his hand amidst
the deep recesses of meteorology. Thus, He might bid
the elements into silence. A virtue passes out of Him,
which passes onward from the invisible to the visible.'
This is, emphatically, meeting the objectors on their own
ground, and foiling .them with their own weapons; for
they hold no philosophical ground or weapons, if they re-
IN PROVIDENCE.
49
fuse to admit that even science sees only the lower links
of the chain of causes and effects. ' And yet, after all, this
splendid and profound argument just comes to this, *that
nothing is impossible with God.' Thus the real philoso¬
pher and the real Christian, meet at the same point, and
rest on the same principle.
To those, however, who believe Christianity, (and no
one does so who disbelieves the redemption of sinners by
the atonement of the Lamb of God) the reign of grace,
presents both the most satisfactory proof and explanation of
a special providence. For, without such a providence as
can prolong life, and preserve health, for all the purposes
which God is covenanted to carry on in the world, by the
instrumentality of the church, there could be no moral
nor natural security for the reward of Christ, or the sal¬
vation of man. Life, health, and reason, must have some
providential securities, if men are to be trained up for heav¬
en, and heaven eventually peopled from the earth. All the
laws of nature must be subordinate at all times, to the de¬
signs and laws of grace, so far as grace requires time
and ofportuniiy to do its work on the heart and character.
Now, neither that time nor that opportunity is provided for
toa certainty, by the course of nature. Much of both is,
indeed, certain from the order and uniformity of that course,
but not enough without providence. Pestilential vapors
generate from time to time, and spread so widely, that
if they wasted life or health according to the abstract law
of cause and effect, a city, yea, a nation, might perish in
a day 1
It is, then, a mediatorial providence we live under; and
its great object is, to promote the designs of the gospel.
As sure, therefore, as you are under the gospel, you are also
under both the care and correction of a special providence.
You can neither sin with impunity, nor sufier by accident.
50
ON MANLY FAITH
Your own history illustrates and proves this already. Yes ;
you have met with some checks or chastisements, which
made you feel, if not confess, that the eye of Gk)d had been
upon your heart and habits. Certain trials were no my%'
<erie5 to you, whatever they seemed to others. You had
a key to their secret cause, and knew well the real connec¬
tion between your sin and your punishment. In fact, you
suspected at times, how certain lines of conduct would end,
and were not so much surprised at the issue as you were
pained by it.
You are not singular in this experience. All smart,
more or less, for their misconduct, however few acknowl¬
edge the retribution. And, if you will keep your eyes
open and fixed upon the discipline of providence, as it goes
on in the church of God, you will often be struck with
the peculiar suitableness of certain dispensations to the
character of certain individuals. This may be frequently
seen even in the world : but, in the church, it is always to
be seen. There, a process is for ever going on, which
answers, in a great measure, all the practical purposes of
the ancient miraculous gift of * discerning spirits charac¬
ter finds its level, and principles their test, and thus men
are brought out in their true colors, in the long run, by the
Ithuriel touch of a discriminating providence. Only wait
and watch, in the case of those wKo cloak sin or selfish-
ness under the garb of religion ; and you are sure to
see them exposed or improved eventually, by ' the mighty
hand of God.'
I am not teaching you to be spies, nor yet to be inter¬
preters, in the case of others ; but still I say, keep your
eyes open and intent on the wheel of providence, if you
would keep your own conscience in a healthy state. The
expected exposure of the hypocritical and heartless, can
be no pleasure to you ; and, therefore, you can hardly be
IN PROVIDENCE
51
too silent when they are detected ; but neither can you be
too observant : it will tell well on your own character, to
mark how their * sins find them owt?
My own attention was drawn early to this maxim ; and
often and awfully have I seen it verified ! Truly did Christ
say, ' 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.' * Every branch in me that beareth not fruit, my
Father taketh away.' I tell you again, you cannot sin
with impunity, nor without detection. Providence will
way-lay your movements, however secret they may be ;
and expose you to the world, at some point of them, where
you least suspect, and can worst aíTord, to be found out.
Remember too, that whilst providence thus unmasks the
sensual and fraudulent, it also takes effectuai measures
against ' the lusts of the mind,' as well as against the lusts
of the flesh. Pride is sure to be brought low, and vanity
to be mortified, and ambition to be checked, and impru¬
dence to be chastised. Look around you, and see if they
are not. What ' thorns in the flesh,' or • crooks in the lot,'
or * crosses on the shoulder,' are visible in the church,
wherever pride of intellect, person, or oflice, is a besetting
sin ! Verily there is a God that judgeih ! Do not, there¬
fore, provoke the Lord to jealousy; for he will * visit
transgression with rods.^
i
NO. V.
on manly honesty in prayer.
However familiar we may be with the idea of retiring
for secret prayer to God, or of meeting for social prayer»
52
ON MANLY HONESTY
the first persons who did so for the first time, must hare
felt it to be a very solemn and sublime exercise! They
could not hare retired as individuals, nor met as a body,
for such a high purpose^ without high emotions of some
kind. Prayer must have begun well, however it may
hare been carried on afterwards. It seexns to have begun
when Enos the son of Seth, was born. Gen. iv. 26 : ' Then
began men to call upon the name of the Lord,^ Before
this time sacrifice seems to have been the chief worship
that was practised or permitted. At least, we hare no ac¬
count of any prayer by Adam, or by any of his family,
until the time of Seth ; and therefore, we have no direct
warrant to suppose that the privilege of retiring or assem¬
bling to pour out the heart freely unto God in prayer, was
cither instituted or allowed, at the same time with the es¬
tablishment of worship by sacrifice. Permission to ' speak
unto the Lord, seems to have been a subsequent privilege,
wisely withheld until sacrifice paved the way for it, and
the death of Abel rendered it a timely and tender mercy
to all the shocked and sorrowing household of Adam.
Thus God instituted prayer at first, as he now answers
prayer, ' in time of need*
If this statement surprise you at all, there must be some
defect in your estimate of the real grace and grandeur of
the privilege of access to God by prayer. You mistake
sadly, however, if you imagine that the first men began to
pray, as we begin, as a mere act of duty ; or if you sup¬
pose that they ventured to 'make known their wants unto
God by supplication and prayer,' without a special war¬
rant. They no more offered this ' sacrifice of the lips '
"without express permission, than they offered the sacrifice
of the altar without express command. Prayer is as lit¬
tle the dictate of nature or conscience, as sacrifice. Man
left to himself,would neither have prayed nor sacrificed to
an invisible God.
IN PRAYER.
53
Consider this matter. It is generally, and justly, allow¬
ed, that the idea of worshipping or propitiating God by
animal sacrifices, is not a dictate of nature* Nothing but
the appointment of God could bare originated such a prac¬
tice. Its universality amongst all nations, instead of dis¬
proving, confirms this fact. For if the light of nature could
not suggest such worship to one nation, it could not lead
to it in any nation. Its universality was therefore derived
from the force of the original law of Heaven, and upheld
by a providence as special as the revelation which introduc¬
ed that law. In like manner, the light of nature never led
to prayer* Men of all nations have indeed uttered prayers
of some kind ; and hence it has been almost taken for grant¬
ed, that prayer is a natural duty, or a kind of human in¬
stinct ; but it is no more so than sacrifice. Both have been
as it were natiiraliztd^ in some form, by the force of habit;
but both began from the force of divine authority.
How could prayer begin otherwise amongst the first
men ? Whilst our first parents were in innocence, praise
was the only worship in their paradise, as it is in the para¬
dise of heaven. And when they became guilty, they show¬
ed by flight and hiding from the presence of God, that they
had either no desire to pray, or no idea of such a thing.
Accordingly, they did not venture to utter a single petition,
even when they heard the curse denounced and the promise
given. Whatever emotions were awakened by either, no
prayerful utterance seems to have been given to them, al¬
though God was visibly present. In like manner Cain
uttered no prayer whem his doom was denounced. See,
then, the fallacy of the popular notion, that prayer is natur¬
al when misery is pressing. Misery pressed so heavily
on Cain, that he said unto the Lord, ' my funishment is
greater than I can bear ; * but he seems never even to have
dreamt of praying for any mercy or mitigation. Neithei
54
ON MANLT HONESTY
did Adam nor Eve, (so far as we know,) when their sen¬
tence was pronounced. Now, if persons in the visible pre¬
sence of God, and bowed down with wants and woes, never
attempted to bow their knees in supplication, how could any
man by the light of nature, however laden with fear or grief,
dream of praying to the invisible God ? If his presence did
not suggest the idea, how could his absence teach it, apart
from revelation ? True, there is prayer, where there is no
revelation, as wt have revelation : but it is all founded on
the deathless tradition of the first law of prayer, as all sac¬
rifice is founded on the deathless tradition of the first law
of propitiation. I feel in common with you, as if prayer
must have always accompanied sacrifice from the very first.
It was so inseparable from sacrifice, from the moment that
altars multiplied, until they were all merged in the cross of
Christ, that we can hardly believe or conceive that it did
not form a part of the very first act of sacrificial worship.
There is, however, no positive evidence of its having done
so. Abel's offering was, indeed, presented in * faith ' ; and,
that, to us, seems necessarly to include prayer, because it
is now almost identified with prayer throughout the Bible:
but the question is, was it so from the first ? Now we can
neither prove that it was, nor show that it must have been
so. The object of faith was the promise of a Saviour ; but
however the cordial belief of that promise may have involv¬
ed an ardent desire for its fulfilment, (and it could not fail
to do so, nor operate otherwise,) still, that desire neither
would nor could break out into prayer, until God revealed
himself as the hearer and answerer of prayer ; and we do
not know that He did this, when he instituted sacrifice.
He did it very soon after ; but there is no evidence that the
appointment of sacrifice, and the permission of prayer, were
simultaneous.
But it may be said what good purpose can be answered
IN PRAYER. 55
k
I
by this distinction, however fnlly it may be established as
a fact ? I answer, at once—it frees the mind from low and
unmanly views of prayer. Whilst prayer is looked upon
as a merè accompaniment of other duties, or merely as a
duip, it will neither be loved nor cultivated. It began,
however, as a privilege, and it is the highest privilege
which God could confer on man, whilst man is out of heav¬
en. The believers in the family of Adam, must have felt
this deeply, when they ' began to call upon the name of the
Lord.' They had stood or bovyed in utter silence before the
altar of burnt-offering, looking, and, no doubt, longing for
the day of Christ: and so far, the spirit of prayer was in
their sacrificial worship : but it was not until God spoke to
them on the subject of prayer, that they veatjired to speak
unto God by prayer. Need I say, that their words would
be from their hearts when they spoke unto God for the first
time ? This must have been the case, whether He was vis¬
ible or invisible, when the first supplications were address¬
ed to him. If He was visible, there certainly was no ir¬
reverence of manner, nor vacancy of spirit, in His presence.
The heart could not be * far ' from Him, when the lips drew
so * near ' to Him : for no man could ramble or mutter
over a heartless form of prayer in the immediate presence
of Jehovah. If again. G<jd was invisible^ * when men be¬
gan to call upon ' Him, that invisibility itself would, at
first, be a preventive against wandering thoughts and heart¬
less words. It is not so, alas, to us, because we are famil¬
iar witli it, and have never known any thing else, and ex¬
pect nothing else in this world. This was not the case,
however, with the first men. The invisibility of God must
have awed them, much in the same way, as His visibility
would awe us. The revealed fact that He could hear as
well in the heaven of heavens, as in Eden or at the altar, ,
both the sigh of penitence and the prayer of faith, must have
56 ON MANLY HONESTY
thrown the whole soul into deep amazement and solemn
musing. This must have been a sublime fact, for a long
time to all the prayerful. Even the prayerless must have
been struck by the stupendous consideration, that no dark¬
ness could prevent God from seeing, and no distance hinder
him from hearing prayer. Not all our familiarity with
this sublime fact, can so divest the mind of all native sim¬
plicity, as to prevent amazement, when the &ct flashes out
upon us vividly.
Look at it now I Who can measure the immensity of
space between the footstool on earth, and the divine throne
in the heaven of heavens? but, only breathe u prayer in
the name of Christ, and it is heard by God even* whilst you
are breathing it. Who can count the intervening myriads
of beings and worlds between the spot where you kneel,
and the light in which God dwells ? You feel lost in the
presence of the innumerable multitude ; but, only kneel as
a suppliant, and the eye of God is as much upon you in
mercy, as it is upon angels in love; and the ear of God as
open to your cry, as to the chorus of glorified spirits.
How sublime now is the question, ' Am I a God at hand
and not a God afar off^ saith the Lord ? '
With more than this freshness of realization, must the
revelation of the hearing of prayer in heaven, have struck
the men who 'began to call upon the name of the Lord.*
They could not have soon contracted an unholy or unfeel¬
ing familiarity with the privilege of speaking unto the in¬
visible God. They must long have felt it to be a very
solemn exercise. Accordingly, so late as the time of
Abraham, we find him prefacing prayer thus, ' Let not the
Lord be angry, and I will speak. Behold, now, I have
taken upon me to speak unto the Lord, who am but dust
and ashes.'
Here, then, is one of the advantages of studying the ori-
IN PRATER*
57
gin of prayer we see man and mind in contact with the
exercise, before forms of devotion were framed, and before
native simplicity gave place to artificial lameness or hecd<»
less familiarity. Prayer was then, what it ought to be still
—^the simple and sublime act of speaking unto God, as a
man speaks to his friend; telling Him the secrets, sorrows,
and desires of the heart. 1 do not mean, of cd^rse, that the
men who began prayer, spoke to God with flippancy, or
without awe of spirit and reverence of manner. Nothing
is more disgusting to a well-regulated mind, than the im¬
pertinent talk which vulgar minds have invented, and called
prayer. It is, emphatically, what Solomon calls, 'the sac¬
rifice of fools,' if not of knaves also, I do, however, mean
that prayer began in perfect simplicity^ as well as in deep
solemnity. Whether uttered as a call, a cry, or a groan*
it was direct speaking unto God. He was distinctly rea¬
lized as looking, and listening, and judging, and feeling,
and remembering, all through the act of worship. Prayer
was not an exercise of memory, nor an effort of imagination
nor the repetition of a form of words; but just the simple
and solemn utterance of the desires of the heart. Men re»
tired alone, or met together, to lay their case for time and
eternity before God* They told Him humbly, but freely,
all that they felt, and feared, and desired. And whoever
will go alone with God, to do this, will be in no danger of
either prating or parading in prayer. Nothing is so sol¬
emn as the artless and child-like utterance of the heart,
t ,
when a man really tries to speak unto God, as if God were
in the closet listening all the time.
It may be well to mention here, that the expression in
the Hebrews, translated, ' Let, us come boldly to the throne
of grace,' is literally, ' let us come speaking freely.^ This
wonderful permission simplifies prayer, without at all low
ering its character or spirit. It relieves the mind from con*
5
58 ON MANLT HONESTY
fusion and fear, by confining it to its own immediate wants,
and by allowing the utterance of them in its own spontane¬
ous words. It neither forbids the use of forms, nor renders
them binding ; but leaves us perfectly free to adopt either
our own expressions or those of others, as we feel inclined
at the time. And then it confronts us so personally with
God, that we cannot imagine that we are praying at all,
(whatever we may be uttering,) unless we are consciously
and purposely speaking unto God.
This view of prayer is not so vividly present to our
minds, as it deserves to be. We do well, therefore, to rid
ourselves of all artificial and conventional notions of pray¬
er, and to come fairly and fully to the point. It is speaking
freely unto God. Have you then * any thing to say unto
God This is the point. You both desire and hope to
spend eternity, in telling Him how much you owe to His
love and mercy by Christ Jesus : and, have you nothing
to say now? You are quite sure that, when you are in
heaven, you would, at any time, quit the company of pa¬
triarchs, prophets, apostles, martyrs, even the company of
your own family, if you were invited to go up to the eter¬
nal throne, to speak freely with God and the Lamb. You
would not, for worlds, neglect or decline a single opportuni¬
ty of speaking • face to fece ' unto God there. Well ; have
you nothing to say unto Him here : He will listen to pray¬
er now, as readily as to praise then. And you cannot,
surely, think that He will admit you to praise there, if you
dislike prayer here.
Let me persuade you to take this simple view of prayer ;
as retiring to speak unto God, at God's special invitation.
In this light prayerhssness assumes a very odious aspect,
and a very ominous character. How awfully it sounds to
say, * there is a man who actually refusef to speak to God ! '
How ill it looks, to be seen trying how to avoid all oppor-
IN PRAYER.
59
tunities of speaking unto God. You would not treat the
king thuS) were he to invite you to an interview at the throne,
or in the royal closet. You would not expect the king to
repeat his invitations, if you had refused even but once.
Indeed, there is hardly any man you would refuse to speak
to. True, there is a mighty difference 'between speaking
to man, and speaking to God. -The difference is, however,
all in favor of the latter : for if it be more solemn, it is also
infinitely more honorable and useful. Nothing you could
say to the wisest and best of men, would procure the par¬
don of your sins, or a title to heaven, or an interest in the
Saviour. Were you, indeed, to speak freely about your
eternal salvation, to a pious and judicious man, his counsel
would be of great use, because he would sum it up by en-
couragingyoutofirayunto God: and that God himself calls
on and encourages you to do now.
Perhaps, you rather dislike this repetition of the expres¬
sion, * speaking unto Qod.^ I have said, that it simplifies
prayer without lessening its majesty or its solemnity ; and
you feel that, if I be not playing the hypocrite, I am even
penetrated with the simple majesty of the idea. Yes;
and it has a hold on you, in spite of any objection you feel
to it. It will haunt you, even if you,try to shake it off to¬
night, when the hour of prayer comes. Should you then
force yourself into bed without prayer, you will be forced
to say to yourself, • I am one who refuseth to speak to God,^
And if you try to compromise the matter, by muttering
some vague words or heartless petitions, you will almost
hear your conscience cry, • this is not speaking to God.'
Mark and remember my words, and see if the hint do not
haunt you.
Here, then, is another* good reason for leading you back
to the origin of prayer, and into the simplicity of its native
character. You have heard finer and grander names
60
ON MANLY HONESTY
given to it; but they did not fix y<m. You could either
get them or get over them, both when you neglected pray-»
er altogether, and when you hurried through it. In fact,
^ great swelling words' about devotion, become plausible ex¬
cuses for îKglecting it. They betray us into the pretence,
that we are incapable of praying aright yet : but God^s call,
• come, speaking freely, to the throne of grace/ unmasks
all this feigned humility, by throwing us upon the search*
faig and startling question—' What I have I nothing to say
to God? ' This is a point not to be got over by either the '
strength or the stratagem, which vaults over or evades the
current forms of the claims of devotion. Try. ' Nothing
to say unto God !—although, through eternity, I expect all ■
my happiness from adoring and serving Him ! Nothing
to say ! although I have sinned against him, and thus in*
curredthe curse of His law? Nothing to say, although I
know not the moment my soul may be required of me? •
Nothing to say!—although, whilst I am spared here, I am
entirly dependent on Him for every thing ? ' There it is !
you cannot get over this ; and it will not be put down.
OI if you would ascend to the sublimities of devotion,
begin by simply speaking to God. This is the first step
on the Bethel ladder of communion with God and the
Lamb ; and the highest step of the ladder is just ' speaking
freely,' as to a father or a friend ; for all the real grandeur
of devotion is in the single fact, that God is its object, the
Lamb its medium, and the Spirit its guide. What we need
therefore, in order to conquer our reluctance, and win our
love to prayer, is, just to be fully sensible that we have to
speak unto God, and that God-will listen complacently
whilst we do so.
God listen complacently to us ! If you want to have high
thoughts of devotion, here they abound. You could not
say nor imagine any thing higher^ of the attention which
IN PRAYER
61
God gave to the first anthem, which swelled from the hearts
and harps of the angelic morning stars, when they began
to shine and sing around the eternal throne. All the real
glory of any mental exercise of men or angels, is, just the
degree in which God notices and loves it. There would
be no moral sublimity in the hallelujah chorus of the skies,
if God took no pleasure in that high praise. Let His eye
be averted from it, or His ear shut to it,«or His smile with¬
drawn irom it, and that moment all the golden harps of Im¬
mortality would be dropped, and all the armies of heaven
silent, until some other form of worship was vouchsafed, on
which God would look with complacency. Now, thus
He looks on, and listens to prayer. The seraph's lyre is
not more sure of God's attention, than the sinner's cry for
mercy. Only thivk before you speak, and then speak
unto God as you think and feel, and all His heart will be
with you.
It is not, however, either so natural or common to think,
or to speak as we think, in prayer, as might be expected.
When a shrewd diplomatist defined the faculty of speech,
as the power of concealing our real opinions and designs,
he little thought that his political jest implied a solemn re¬
ligious warning. There is great danger of concealing from
ourselves the real state of our hearts, by the language of our
prayers, whether that lEinguage be our own words, or the
words of others. We may not, indeed, intend, nor be exactly
conscious of practising, any imposition upon ourselves, when
we pray ; and yet out prayers may be complete masks
upon the motives and moods of our spirit : for we are quite
capable, even before God, both of saying one thing and
meaning another, and of saying much and meaning noth¬
ing.
I do not refer now to attempts to impose on God. It
would be worse than useless, at present, to insinuate even
62
ON MANLY HONESTY
a suspicion of your having any tendency to try an experi¬
ment so^ foolish. You have, of course, no more idea that
you could deceive omniscience by words, than that you
could defeat omnipotence by strength or stratagem. And
you cannot be too firmly ' rooted and grounded,' in the con¬
viction of the/oWy of attempting to do either : for both are
impossible. We can neither impose upon God, nor force
any thing against His wilL And as to imposing upon
others by our prayers^ although that may be attempted, even
in the closet, it is too contemptible tjo be deemed prayer,
however it may be practised. Those who are afraid of be¬
ing overheard undressing and lying down at night, the mo¬
ment they retire from the domestic circle; or who are
ashamed to have it seen that there could not be a moment for
secret prayer in the morning, owing to late rising ; may
contrive that" there shall be a short hush of silence, or a
low hum of sound, that shall indicate some devotion, and
thus keep down suspicion in the family ; but all this mean
deceit, they feel to be meanly deceitful—as much as the
second Charles, when he planned that thepuritan ministers
who visited him on the continent, should over-hear him
praying in his closet. They did hear him, and were be¬
trayed into a good opinion of him, and were thus led to fa¬
vor his restoration ; but he was not his own dupe. He had
too much sense, not to despise his hypocrisy, however he
plumed himself upon his policy. And, in like manner,
those members of a family, who are averse to prayer, and
yet afraid to betray the full extent of that aversion, do not
impose upon themselves, by what seems to others, the noise
of kneeling, and the whisper of devotion. This paltry
trick, to evade detection, cannot prevent self-condemnation.
It may deceive the parental ear, but it cannot dupe the
conscience.
It is, however, quite possible to deceive ourselves» both
IN PRAYER. 63
with mà.without îoxms 0Î prayer*, and that, too, almost
unintentionally and unconsciously. Indeed, we actually
do so, however regular or reverential our prayers may be,
if, before and añer them, we think nothing about their de¬
sign or their success. For they are more than acts of
worship ; there is^confession of sin in them, and that is not
felt when it is uttered, if it be never thought of in the course
of the day. It is not the real sentiment of the heart when
it ilows from the lips, if no sense of the evil of sin flow
through the soul at other times.
Weigh this fact You would not deem it right nor safe,
to strike out from your prayers, the confessionihaX you are
a sinner. You could not satisfy yourseli without some ac¬
knowledgement of your sins. To pass over this point al¬
together, would be so unlike all the inspired specimens of
prayer, that the contrast would startle you at your own
singularity. No wonder. You, therefore, do confess sin
when you pray. But, mark I if this be neither preceded
nor followed by any serious reflection ; if your penitence
begin and end with your words ; if you forget the whole
matter until the hour of prayer come round again, your
confession of sin is not contrition for sin. Nay ; it even
hides from you the nature of true repentance. For it is
not thus you act, when you have to confess a fault to man.
You never did that, without both pain and shame. You
could not, however you might try to suppress you feelings.
I mean by a fault, not, of course, every thing which others
take offence at ; but something which you yourself cannot
justify : and you never did condemn yourself, in words,
to any man, without both thinking and feeling more than
you said. Indeed, what you said was the least part of
your repentance, although it may have been the most hu¬
miliating.
And, is sin against God, a lighlür matter in your esti¬
mation, than an oflence against man % Does confession
64
ON MANLY HONESTY
to the majesty of heaven, who searches the heart, call forth
no blush of shame—no tear of sorrow—no throb of pain
—no thrill of fear—^no forethought nor afterthought?
Have you ever been sUeplen underthe stinging conscious-
^ ness of a parent's deserved anger, and never felt nor fear¬
ed the evil of sinning against God» but just during the
few seconds of time which the confession occupied ? If so,
your ideas of God are very Zoî/? indeed! True; He is
far more forgiving than man, and far more accessible than
offended parties usually are to the ofiender : but He is not
insensible nor indifferent to your sins. They are reg¬
istered in His books, however the memory or the
sense of them may be erased from your conscience.
And you are aggravating them all, every time you confess
them without forethought and afterthought ; for this is add¬
ing insult to disobedience. Accordingly, you would not,
you durst not, attempt to settle any serious offence against
a human superior, with the cool effrontery of unfelt and
unweigked apology. You would be afraid of faltering
whilst you uttered it, or of being confounded under the
glance of a scrutinizing eye. You would not risk the ex¬
periment of a hollow or heartless confession, before the
judges of the land. And yet, you dare to utter words before
the Judge of the universe, and words too about your sins
against him, without contrition or consideration?
Perhaps you are now ready to ask, would it then be
better, not to confess sin at all, than to go through the form
of confession, without corresponding feelings ? I answer
at once—no I I do not think, however, that unfelt confes¬
sions are of any use. I am even quite sure that the habit
of repeating them, as a matter of course, in prayer, tends
to sear the conscience, and pervert the judgment. But,
both conscience and judgment, would, in your, case,
soon sustain more injd¥y, if you were to give up con¬
fession entirelv : because that would he followed hv
IN PRATER
65
an utter abandonment of all prayer» if not of all the
means of grace also ; and thus all hold upon you would
be lost, until the mighty hand of God laid hold of
you by judgments. There is, however, no occasion for
giving up the usual habit of confession, nor for confessing
without penitence. Remember ; the Savior is exalted as
a Prince, to ' give repentance,' as well as ' the remission
of sin ; ' and it is as much a part of the office of the Holy
Spirit to soAen as to sanctify the heart. ' This pleasing
fact should determine you, at once, to rid yourself of all
forms of confessing sin, (whether they be your own or
the phraseology of others,) with which you are too famil¬
iar, by habit, to be deeply affected. Never mind whose
words you give up the use of, if you can use them without
thinking or without feeling that you are speaking to God
about your owñ sins against. God. Even an inspired f>rm
of confession must be laid aside for a time, if by familiari¬
ty it has become a heartless form in your lips. What God
wants and waits to hear from you is, not what others have
said about sin, but what you think and feel about your own
sins. What you have now to consider, is, whether you
have any sentiment, emotion, or conviction of your own,
on the subject, to submit to the ear and to the eye of God'
For it is your own opinion of yourself—your deliberate
and undisguised judgment of your own heart and charac¬
ter, that is confession of sin. Now, that judgment you
must form for yourself, by weighing yourself in the bal¬
ance of the eternal law. Suspend and keep that balance
upon the Cross of Christ, by all means ; but let divine law
be the balance. Your sins are violations and evasions of
of it; and its curse is, like its rewards, eternal. Yes,
your sins have incurred this curse; and it will cleave to
your soul as closely as its immortality, if not cancelled by
the blood of atonement; and that, it will not be, whilst
66
ON MANLY HONESTY
you deem the curse itself too severe. Now, you do deem
the curse of the law too severe. You. may not say so;
but you think so, and even wonder that any man could
judge otherwise. Accordingly, if you were to speak out
your real sentiments on the subject of eternal punishment,
you would almost call it vnjusi ; at least, in your own
case. You know this to be true, whether you acknowledge
it or not
Here, then, is the real cause why you could confess sin,
and yet feel little shame or sorrow on account of it; you
never believed that it deserved the wrath and curse of God
for ever, so far as you were concerned. Did you believe
that now, you could not confess yourself a sinner again
without both grief and fear. These emotions could not be
kept down, were you to allow the conviction of the eterni¬
ty of future punishment to spring up in your mind. Con*
fession would rise up from that conviction, like a body
emerging from the depths of the sea, wet with tears, or
too full of sorrow and shame to weep. Why, then, are
you without this conviction ! You have some suspicion
that there may be truth in the threatening of endless wrath ;
for you are afraid to deny it flatly and openly. The Savior
himself says so much about 'unquenchable fire,' and the
impassable gulf between heaven and hell, that you dare
not maintain the contrary in public, however you may feel
in secret. This, also, you know, whether you acknowl¬
edge it or not.. You neither fully believe, nor fully disbe¬
lieve, the scriptures on this subject.
This hesitation will not do ! Both confessions of sin
and prayers for pardon, go for nothing at the mercy-seat of
God, whilst sinners differ from God about the evil and
desert of sin. It is only adding insolence to rebellion, to
ask God to heed or hear an opinion about sin, which con¬
tradicts His own opinion, or comes short of what He has
said.
\
IN PRATBR.
67
1 will not stop to prove that God has said more on this
subject than you have believed. I tell you at once the
amount of His sentence against sin ; it is, ' everlasting de¬
struction from the glory of his presence.' Wonder not,
therefore, that the Holy Spirit has not helped you to be
penitent in confessing sin, nor made you happy in praying
for pardon : He could not have done so, without sanction¬
ing your disbelief of God's threatenings; and He will
never, by His work or witness, treat God as a liar, what¬
ever you may have ventured to do.
You begin now to see, that confession is just to think
and speak of your own sins, before God, as God thinks
and speaks of them, before you in His word. You must
agree with Him in opinion about the guilt and danger of
sin, if you would have him agree to your petitions for par¬
don. And as God is not unwilling to accede to your wish¬
es, why should you be reluctant to go all the length, in
judging of the evil of sin, which He has gone in declar¬
ing its evil ? He is not a man, that he should lie or exag¬
gerate. Indeed, the only real wonder, in all that God has
said of sin and against sin, is, that his words are not more
and stronger; for as nothing but the sacrifice of the incar¬
nate Emmanuel could atone for sin, nothing too strong
can be said of the evil of sin. No words can express, no
images illustrate, no visions unveil fully, the enormity or
the malignity of an evil, that could only be remedied by
the blood of the Lamb. When * God made his soul an
offering for sin,' He said all, and infinitely more than all,
that words or woes can explain. Away, away I with all
quibbling and cavilling about the revealed desert of sin :
the Lamb of God was slain for it ; and He was slain for
it, because the very ftincvgle of sin in the heart (to say
nothing of its acts in the life) would have been an eternal
barrier—an impassable gulph—^between man and heaven.
68
ON HANLY HONESTY
Everlasting banishment from the presence of God, on ac¬
count of sinfulness, is no arbitrary appointment, flowing
from abstract law, or from absolute will ; but the natural
consequence of dislike to God and holiness. It is because
that dislike is, in itself, an everlasting disqualification, or
unfitness, for heaven, that hell will be the everlasting pris¬
on of all who refuse to be restored to the love of God and
holiness. O ! in understanding be men ! for they are
childish, who talk about hell as too severe. Sin would
soon make heaven itself another hell, if * the place prepar¬
ed,' for the unholy, might send its inhabitants there, or
even if the earth might send the earthly. It is, that there
may be an eternal heaven in the universe, that there is one
eternal hell in the universe. And were sin less punished
or less impaled, there would be no moral security whatever
that the whole universe might not become one hell.
How do you fell disposed to confess sin now ? I mean
your own sinfulness, asa rational, dependent and immortal
spirit, averse to God and godliness. This is your chief
guilt, and from this is your chief danger of perishing*
You quite mistake the matter at issue between God and
your soul, if you think only of what evil you have done,
or if you imagine that all His threatenings are mustered
against you only for crimes. You are, indeed, criminal
before God; and he does not forget this in his threaten¬
ings, It is, however, the state of your heart, as alienated
from him ; as averse to His service and salvation ; as fond¬
er of anything than of His will and ways ; as having
no nataral inclination to seek your happiness in His favor
and image ; it is this state of estrangement from Himself,
that God looks so closely to, and thunders against so loud¬
ly. And this inward aversion to give Him your heart, has
been the real cause of all your guilt and neglect. It is
therefore on this point chiefly, that your attention should fix,
IN PRAYEK^i
69
and yonr confession turn> when you retire to speak with
God about yourself. By all means weigh your actions in
the balance of the eternal law ; you ought and need to see
how fearfully they are ' wanting ; ' but, above all, weigh
your heartj by the weighty claims of supreme love—of
perfect confidence—of impartial subrhission to God; for
these are the weights on God's side of the balance ! Well,
put your heart into the scale on your own side. Ah ! it
* is lighter than nothing, and vanity«
Can you retire now to repeat any man's words before
God, or to use your own words in the old way? Use, by
all means, the words which best express your personal con¬
victions and feelings ; but make them your own words :
mere vents for the escape of the fulness of your shame
and sorrow—helps to unburden your conscience before
God.
This process will give quite a new turn to your prayers
for pardon ; hitherto, they have been as superficial as your
confessions of sin. In the midst of both you could easily
have thought of any thing else, and at times you have al¬
most fallen asleep over them. But now you can do neither,
unless you can shake off the recollection, as well as the
*
impression, of these haunting hints ; and that, you cannot
do, without doing direct violence to your conscience, and
and thus deliberately daring God to do his worst.
By this time you begin to anticipate that you shall feel
strangely to-night, when you come to bow down before God
in prayer; for you cannot speak to him in your old words,
unless your new feelings can put all your new meaning
into them, and thus make them sound, as if you had never
uttered nor heard them before. Well ; never mind, even
if you can find no words to express your feelings. God
looketh on the heart, and can both understand and welcome
speechless prayer, when the spirit is overwhelmed before
70
on man^v h0n£8tlt\ ac.
Him. Think of sin as He thinks—try to fall in with
His views of its evil and desert—^yield up your whole soul
to the mould of his final decisions on the subject ; and He
will interpret your ' expressive silence' as true prayer, un¬
til you ate able to clothe your desires in corresponding
words.
I would have you manfully honest in this matter. Noth¬
ing is weaker, meaner, or more unmanlyi than the super¬
stitious repetition of unfelt and unweighed words, before
the throne of the most high God. There is no virtue, no
charm, no use, in any forms of prayer, however ancient
or sublime, except so far as they embody and breathe the
spirit of our own desires. Good forms may help to kindle
these desires, and to test their sincerity and strength; but
they are not <mr prayers to God, any farther than they are
deliberately and solemnly made so, by our own sense of
personal danger, and our own solicitude for eternal salva¬
tion.
' NO. VI.
♦
on manly views of divine influence.
Wherever the gospel is faithfully preached, nothing
is more frequently or emphatically insisted upon, than the
absolute necessity of divine teaching, in order to our be¬
coming * wise unto salvation.' All our best ministers re¬
fer us most, to ' the ministration of the Spirit.' Even when
their explanations of divine truth are most lucid, and their
reasonings most powerful, and their appeals most heart-
touching, they disclaim all pretensions to the ability of con-
ON MANLY VIEWS
71
veying saving knowledge to our minds, and throw us as
fully upon the duty of praying for divine illumination, as
if they had done nothing. Indeed, the more they do, in
order to explain and enforce the claims of the gospel, the
more they confront us with that solemn oracle, * Not hy
might nor hy power, but by my Spirit, saiih the Lord,^
Thus, when they most resemble Paul, in their planting,
and Apollos in their watering, they most resemble them
too, in looking to God for the 'increase.'
You have noticed this characteristic feature of evangel¬
ical preaching. Did it ever surprise you ? Perhaps, it
has occasionally offended you. Not, of course, that you
ever took offence at the modesty of the ministers, who thus
ascribed all * the excellency of the power ' exclusively to
God. Such humility is too beautiful, to be offensive. But,
have you not, at times, given way to something worse than
impatience, when you found that the instruction from the
pulpit, in order to be savingly useful, must be followed up
by prayer in thé closet for the teaching of tjie Holy Spirit ?
Recollect yourself ! Has not dislike to the bare idea of
retiring to ponder and pray over an impressive sermon,
led you into some strange reasonings about the nature and
necessity of supernatural teaching? It is uncommon to
evade the claims of secret prayer for the influences of the
Spirit, by asking—how He teaches—what He teaches—
and whether His teaching would not amount to inspira¬
tion ? When the question is carried thus far, it is then
very easy for any one to smile down the whole matter, by
saying that he cannot expect to be inspired! This isa
very pitiful subterfuge. So is the question,—what need is
there for the work of the Spirit, if the Spirit teach nothing
but the truths contained in the Scriptures? This question
may not, indeed, always cloak the base design of getting
rid of reflection and prayer : but, like the former, it is very
72
ON MANtY VIEWS
silly, and often used for a sinful or slothful purpose. True ;
the Spirit of God teaches nothing, but the lessons contain-
ed in the Word of God : but, as they are able to make ns^
wise unto salvation, and as we are naturally averse to learn
them, why should the Spirit teach anything else? Noth¬
ing else is wanted for the regulation of faith or practice.
No man can say, that there is not enough revealed for all
holy purposes. It, therefore, ill becomes those who trifte
with what is revealed, to complain that nothing more is
taught, or to wonder that the Holy Spirit should be the
teacher, as well as the inspirer of divine truth. It is in¬
deed, wonderful that He should condescend to follow up
his written testimony, by his personal agency, and thus
* lead into all truth,' as well as lay it before us in the Scrip¬
tures ! He might and that justly, have thrown us upon our
own unaided powers, to make the best of the Bible. He
He has not done so : but, as he pitied our ignorance by
furnishing us with a revelation of the character and will
of God, so he pities our aversion by promising to take of
the things of Christ, and ' show them ' unto us.
The necessity of this special teaching, is but too obvi¬
ous, from our dislike to learn the will of God. That dis¬
like is so strong, that it would defeat all the powers of ouï
mind, even ii they were capable of comprehending the
full meaning of Scripture, without the help of the Spirit.
For, as we naturally dislike what we can comprehend, just
because it is all so holy and devotional in its character and
design, stronger powers of comprehension could only
strengthen our natural aversion to practical and humbling
truth. Do you not see this ? What you do understand of
the claims of the gospel, you do not fully approve. You
perceive enough upon the very surface of the Bible, to
convince you that it clashes with your inclinations : and,
if what you thus see, almost without looking, is disagree*
OF DIVINE INFLUENCE.
75
able, because restraining^, is it not self-evident, that a per¬
fect understanding of all the holiness of the truth, Avould
increase your hatred to it, if your heart remained un¬
changed? It is, therefore, a mercy that our mental powers
are not of themselves, able to grasp the full import of the
oracles of God: for, if they could do so whilst our
moral tastes continued averse to holiness, knowledge would
only exasperate and inflame enmity. O, they little know
what they complain of, who are displeased when they are
told, that they cannot become wise unto salvation, without
divine teaching. The necessity of this is, certainly, a re¬
flection upon the powers of the human mind : but it is al«
so a refuge from the passions of the human heart, which,
the more they are crossed, the more craving and clamor¬
ous they become. Whilst, therefore, the heart is set upon
any sintul indulgence, or averse to moral restraint and de¬
votional feeling, no degree of mental power could elevate
the soul to • the love of the truth as it is in Jesus,' how¬
ever far it might raise the soul towards the meaning of
that truth.
Besides, there is nothing really strange in fact, that noth¬
ing but divine power, can give divine truth the force of
truth upon the human character, or produce the love of it
in the human heart. This is, indeed, a melancholy, but
not at all a surprising, fact. What else could be expected,
in a world where all hearts are naturally set against mor¬
al restraint, and spiritual exercises ? The very Arts and
Sciences would require divine power to teach them eflectu-
ally, if they involved as much holiness and devotion as
the Gospel. Yes; did mathematics demonstrate the evil
of sin and the necessity of holiness, just as the cross of
Christ does, problems would soon be as unpopular as the
doctrines of the cross. Were there no progress to be
made in astronomy, without as much prayer as watching'
6
76
ON MANLY VIEWS
there would be but few astronomical students. If geology
and botany required, as Mount Zion does, * clean hands,
and a pure heart,^ from all who ascended their hills, neith¬
er the strata nor the flowers of the earth would have
many visitants. And, if music could never be well played,
but when there was * melody in the heart unto the Lord^
or when worship was its only object, music, with all its
charms, would have but few votaries. Even place and
power in the state, would not be objects of general ambi¬
tion, if they could only be obtained by spirituality of mind,
and only retained by consecration to the glory of God.
in a word, were the practical and devotional requisitions
4
of the gospel, transferred from the gospel to any trade or
science, there wouldbejustasmuch aversion to that trade or
science, as there now is to the gospel ; and as much ne¬
cessity for divine influence to enforce their claims. For it
is not the mystery of a revelation from Heaven, nor the
mysteriousness of what is revealed, but the design of it all,
that is oflensive to human nature.
We are naturally fond of the mysterious, w hen it does
not interfere with our comfort ; and, therefore, it is only a
pretence, to mask disinclination, when mystery is pleaded
as an excuse for unbelief, or indecision. It is * ä lion, on¬
ly in those ways which men dislike to walk in.
Thus it is not so much the weakness of our natural fac¬
ulties, as it is the worldliness and carnality of our affec¬
tions, that renders the Work of the Holy Spirit indis¬
pensable. It is, therefore, almost a useless, if not also a
foolish question, to ask,—how much a man could learn from
the Study of the Scriptures, without any divine teaching ?
For, what if he could acquire, by dint of application, the
true meaning of all the Bible: it could not beneflt his soul,
so long as his heart hated what his understanding com- ,
prehended. No knowledge of heavenly things could
OF DIVINE INFLUENCE
77
overthrow the supremacy of earthly things, in a mind that
preferred earthly things-
Great knowledge might counterbalance, a little, his
worldliness, by embittering some of his enjoyments, and
embarrassing some of his movements; but it could not change
his heart, whilst he was unwilling to exchange an earthly
for a heavenly portion. The real form of the question
ought, therefore, to be,—how much will a man learn of
truths which reprove and pain him, and which he therefore
dislikes? And you can answer this question, from your
own experience. Like yourself, he will not try to learn
much, except when some fear of perishing prompts him
to search the Scriptures.
la thus disposing of this question, I do not forget, that
masterly defences of Christianity have been written by men,
who never prayed for the illuminations of the Holy Spirit.
Some, even by men who did not believe that there was
such a Spirit. -These works are therefore proofs of what
can be done without his teaching. They are, however,
easily accounted for, by the 'premiums of fame or rank
which, in a Christian country, await the triumphs of talent
and learning. There is no aversion in the human mind
to write down a rival system, nor to write up an endowed
system. That study of the Scriptures, which qualifies a
man for such public controversy, does not involve secret
devotion, nor a supreme desire to glorify God. It can
begin in ambition, and go on in pride; and, at last, leave
the writer more earthly-minded than it found him^ It is,
therefore, only another proof of the necessity of divine
teaching, in order to our becoming ''wise unto salvation.^
We may, without the Spirit, become wise unto fame, or
wise unto wealth, or wise unto victory, in polemical
questions of great public interest ; but, wise unto salvation,
we cannot become, apart from the agency of the Holy
78
ON MANLY VIEWS
Spirit, because neither talent nor study can, by themselves,
produce love to God, or conformity to the image of Christ.
And,—what is any degree of religious knowledge worth
to its possessor, if it leave him estranged from the love and
likeness of God and the Lamb?
Remember; it is principles yon need : and they cannot
be acquired, apart from the influences of the Spirit. No¬
tions may be acquired without his help ; but they can do
little for you in time, and nothing for you through eternity.
Accordingly, what benefit have you derived from the vague
knowledge you possess of the gospel ? You are not ut¬
terly ignorant of it, nor altogether indifferent about it ; and
yet, its promises do not gladden your heart, nor its princi¬
ples regulate your life, nor its glorious prospects soften the
aspect of death, or brighten the aspect of eternity. Thus,
it is, in fact, no gospel to you, as yet. It might, indeed,
be mere law, for any comfort you obtain from it. It is,
however, 'glad tidings of great joy;' and this is the
knowledge of it which the spirit teaches. This is what
you have not learnt ; and what you cannot learn, without
being ' taught of God.'
Consider this fact. You quite mistake, if you imagine
that the gospel has no other design upon you, than to re¬
strain and regulate your character. It has that design up¬
on both your heart and life : but it has also an express re¬
gard to your happiness. Yes ; to your immediate, as well
as your eternal happiness ! You are not happy. I do not
mean,—that you have no enjoyments: I mean, that you
cannot enjoy yourself, when you think of God. You are
obliged to forget Him, whenever you try to enjoy your-
- self ; and that, not only when you seek happiness in the
pleasures of sin, but also when your pleasures are both
rational and harmless. Even then, you are glad to keep
clear of all recollections of God, lest they should spoil
OF DIVINE INFLUENCE.
79
your enjoyment. And as to recollections of eternal things,
they actually embitter the sweetest cup of your pleasure,
whenever they intrude themselves. And, call you this
happiness? Can you think, even for another moment,
that you understand the Gospel, or that you can understand
it without the Spirit, whilst you regard the God of love in
this light? What a perversion of language, to call that
enjoyment, which can be spoiled and dispersed by recol¬
lections of the glory and grace of Jehovah ! It is such
another contradiction in terms, as saying, that the sun
spoils a landscape, or that the moon disfigures a sea-view.
I tell you again—you do not understand the gospel :
for God, as it reveals Him, may be recollected with joy,
in connection with every pleasure and pursuit which is
not criminal : and realized without pain or embarrassment,
in every scene and circle which is not vicious. He that
loveth not God, ' knoweth not God, for God is love.* Away
with the low and unmanly notion, that God is merely a
jealous spy,, or a harsh judge, upon human happiness.
He grudges no enjoyment but what is sinful, and frownson
no pleasure but that which displaces Him in the heart,
and thus perils the soul. His supreme object is to glorify
Himself by promoting our happiness.
Do not say, in answer to this—4hat is, if we seek our
happiness in meditation, and in prayer, and in doing good,
God will promote it.* That is not all ; nor is it a fair rep¬
resentation of the fact, which it professes to describe. Med¬
itation, and prayer, and obedience, are not exactly what
they now seem to you. You are judging of them as mere ab¬
stract and absolute duties, which trench on time, and clash
with convenience. You are looking at them only in their
connection with this life, and overlooking their connection
with eternal life. This is not fair. Do not, however,
mistake me. 1 do not mean, that the light of eternity.
1
80
ON MANLY VIEWS
as you now view eternity, would materially alter your
opinion of duty or devotion. You do not understand the
gospel sufficiently yet, to look revealed eternity fully in
the face. It is to you, as yet, what God seems to you, an
object of dread, rather than of admiration. How, indeed,
could either be otherwise, for all the heed you have given
to them Î
But, to the point ! I defy you to make out, even to
yourself, any thing like a proof, that the glad tidings of
the gospel, as they are found in the Bible, could not make
you hapfy now. You may make out a case against devo¬
tion, which, in the present state of your mind, would con¬
vince you, that prayer and watchfulness could not be pleas¬
ant. But were you an Infidel, or even an Atheist, I would
openly and calmly defy you to prove the glorious gospel
to be unpleasant For, could it be proved to be untrue^
(which it cannot,) even that would not alter nor affect the
truth of the grand principle, on which it rests. Be not
surprised at this assertion. Nothing can. disprove, that
eternal happiness would be an infinite blessing. ' The
truth of this does not depend on the truth of anything else.
This would be true, even if there were not a soul in man,
nor a God in the universe. There could not in that case
be, of course, eternal happiness in point of fact ; but in
point of theory, it would remain incontrovertibly true, that
eternal happiness would be an infinite blessing. Now^, it
is upon this.independent fact, which no man in his senses
can either deny or doubt, that the gospel founds its claims
upon the attention and love of all men. It argues with
no man about his likes or dislikes of duty and devotion»
until it has offered him a boon which he cannot dislike^
however he may try : for it is absolutely impossible, even
to find fault with eternal happiness. So it is—to be recon¬
ciled to eternal misery. Both may be disbelieved or for-
OF DIVINE INFLUENCE
81
gotten : but neither can be despised. God has taken care
to render that impossible. Accordingly, it is not heaven
itself, but the way to it, that you dislike. It is not bell
itself, that you care nothing about, when you are careless
of your soul. It is not, therefore, the gospel in its final
results, that you can make out a case against, but the gos¬
pel in its initiatory and intermediate demands. You can
no more hate heaven, than you can love hell, however
much you may hate the narrow way which leadeth to ev¬
erlasting happiness.
Here, then, is the point at which the gospel itself meets
you, with its practical and devotional claims. God is fully '
aware that you do not love them, nor see how they would
conduce to your happiness. He wants you however, to
love them ; and, therefore he presents to your view, and of¬
fers to your acceptance, what you cannot dislike, even if
you were to set yourself with all your might, to try to dis¬
like it ; for it is nothing else, and nothing less, than cer¬
tain escape from the wrath to come, and eternal happiness
in the presence, favor, and image of God and the Lamb,
in company with all the Unfällen and restored spirits in the
universe. Now it is prayer, as it secures this portion ;
watchfulness, as it meetens for this inheritance; duty, as it
prepares for this society, that the gospel urges and enforces :
and when the claims of eternity are fairly weighed, the
claims of duty and devotion will be fairly met. The lat¬
ter cannot be evaded, when the former are duly and daily
considered.
What think ye now of the necessity of the work of the
Spirit? Can any thing but Divine power, bring eternity
so home to your habitual consciousness, that aversion to
duty imü fall before its august presence ? Do you not
see and feel, that both the first and final appeals of the gos¬
pel, are founded upon, invisible realities, which can only be
vividly realized with delight, by a mind divinely aided and
82
ON MANLY VIEWS
influenced? In a word; look at the whole mass of your
natural and acquired distaste for eternal things; and then at
the utter improbability of its giving away of its own accord ;
and then at the absolute necessity of its overthrow, before
you can love divine things; and say, is it not an infinite
mercy, that the help of the Holy Spirit is promised in an¬
swer to prayer, and in connection with searching the
Scriptures? Who would not place himself under such a
teacher as * the Spirit of wisdom and revelation? ' Sitting
at His feet, to become wise unto salvation, is almost as sub¬
lime, and quite as useful, as meeting Him on the mount of
vision was, when prophets were His scholars, and prophe¬
cies His lessons.
Perhaps it may now be well, before entering upon the
still more special work of the Holy Spirit on the heart, to
prove to you the reality of His teaching. I mean, that be
does teach now. You remember the promise, * they shall
all be taught of God} Well ; be not surprised when I
say that this promise is literally fulfilled, in the case of all
true believers. They may seem to you, at first sight, to
have learned very different lessons ; for they are certainly
very much divided in sentiment amongst themselves.
Hence arises the question, how can they al| be taught of
God? He surely does not teach one to be a Calvinist, and
another to be an Armenian; nor one to be a Churchman,
and another to be a Dissenter ! And yet, the pious of both
parties are taught by the Spirit. How is this ?
Look, first, at the grand points in which they all fully
agree. All the truly pious are of * one heart and one mind,'
as to the way, and the design of salvation, by grace. They
all unite in perfect harmony around the cross, and before
the mercy-seat. Now, what could produce this union of
sentiment and feeling, but Divine teaching? What better
proof could be given, that they have all been in one school,
of divine influence
83
and under one Master ? For, remember ; this agreement
in the new song, is not confined to one nation^; but in every
nation, alb who .really believe in Christ, believe the same
things concerning Christ, and for the same purpose
too.
And now, as to what they difier about, the fact is, there
has been no Divine teaching on either side, when the Scrip¬
tures have not been allowed to speak for themselves. The
Spirit leads only into all revealed truth.
Personal religion is, however, my subject. Now, when
the Scriptures affirm the absolute necessity oí ' a new heart,'
and call the change ' regeneration^ they do not speak in
the language of the world, nor according to the natural
opinions of mankind; and yet, they forbid us to reckon the
doctrine of the new birth strange. * Marvel not that I say
unto you, ye must be born again.' The Savior expressed
surprise, as well as censure, when Nicodemus attempted to
mystify the subject, and thus to evade its claims : * art thou
a master in Israel, and knowest not these things? '
That there is mystery in the mode of divine operations
on the human mind, the Savior not only did not deny, but
also asserted it in unqualified terms: 'the wind bloweth
where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof, but
canst not tell whence it cometh, or whither it goeth: so is
every one that is born of the Spirit.
After these explicit assurances from the lips of Him, who
is both our Saviour and our Judge, it would be equally
unmanly to overlook the mystery, or to dispute the neces¬
sity of a divine change on the heart. Both are asserted by
the same high authority; and therefore ought to be treated
with the same holy reverence. This is not done, however,
when the declared mystery of the mode of spiritual opera¬
tion, is turned into an excuse for neglecting to pray for
' the renewing of the Holy Ghost.' That * washing oí
84
ON MANLT VIEWS
regeneration ' ought to be prayed for with as much sim¬
plicity of heart, as when we ask for our daily bread, and
with infinitely more solicitude. There is mysfery in the
way in which our food nourishes our natural life ; but, who
ever rejected or neglected food, because he could not explain
the process by which it sustains the body ? It does pro¬
long life, and renew strength : and, therefore, every sane
man uses it, and every good man prays for it In like
manner, it is the fact, that the Word of God, when duly
.weighed and prayed over, is blessed by the Spirit of God,
to the renovation of the souL No man ever imitated Da¬
vid, in hiding the Word of God in his heart, and in pray¬
ing for a new heart, without finding, in his own experience,
the truth of the promise, ' A new heart will I give you, and
a new spirit will I put within you : and I will take away
the stony heart out of your flesh, and give you a heart of
flesh. And I will put my Spirit within you, and cause you
to walk in my statutes,' Ezek. xxxvi, 26.
I have already stated, that we are solemnly warned against
marvelling at the necessity of a change of heart. And, no
man can look at heaven, in the purity of its enjoyments, or
in the spirituality of its engagements, and 'marvel,' that he
must be 'born again,' in order to enter the kingdom of
heaven. This is no more a wonder, than that an ignorant
man is unfit to fill the chair of Newton, or a weak man
to guide the helm of a free nation. Both the place and the
pleasures of Eternal Life, render the renewal of the soul
as necessary, as they render the resurrection-change of the
body indispensable. ^ Flesh and blood cannot inherit the
kingdom of God.' Accordingly, no one marvels, that this
mortal body * must put on immortality,' before it can take
its place in heaven. We both admit and admire the neces¬
sity of having this 'vile body' changed and fashioned,
into the likeness of ' Christ's glorious body.' We feel,
OF DIVINE INFLUENCE
85
instinctively, that its present weakness, and especially its
grossness, are incompalible with * an exceeding and eter¬
nal weight of glory.' And, is not a corrupted soul as un¬
fit for heaven, as a corruptible body? If the latter must
' bear the image of the heavenly,' surely the former cannot
do without it.
Marvel not that ye must be horn again, in order to in¬
herit the kingdom of God ! You yourself feel, that if your
body were to rise from the grave unchanged, your soul, if
holy, would shrink back from all reunion with it, and pre¬
fer to be ' unclothed ' for ever, rather than to be again im¬
prisoned in such a clay tabernacle ; and I tell you plainly,
that were your body to rise from the dead, • fashioned like
unto Christ's glorious body,' it would, as instinctively
shrink back from re-union with your soul, if your soul were
unholy. Wonder not, therefore, that both must undergo a
divine change, before they can enter heaven. A matter
which can thus he brought home to our common sense, is
not likely to be without analogies in our common nature.
You may not have noticed yet, with an express reference
to this subject, how much the heart can be changed for a
time, by the mere force of circumstances. There are,
however, both moods and emotions, common to man, which
prove that the heart may be brought into full harmony with
the mind and will of God, Many providential events bring
men to the very brink of acquiescence, in all that God re¬
quires: and, were the feeling of the moment followed up
by consideration and prayer, full acquiescence would be
the effect of these dispensations.
Have you ever lost, by death, a beloved parent, brother,
or sister ? Remember the state of your heart, whilst stun¬
ned or melted by that bereavement! You. had no occasion
to try experiments, nor to take measures, in order to feel as
the rest of the family felt. The loss affected you at the
86
ON MANLY VIEWS,
same time, and in the same way, that it did others. Your
spirits sank—your heart melted—your whole soul quivered
with deep emotion* You may have wept less than some
of the family did : but you did not feel less, when you
gazed the last look, upon the face you were to see no more
' until the heavens and the earth were no more.' You had
your full share in all the real suffering which pervaded^the
domestic circle, when you first met that circle, after the
final interview in the chamber of death. Every convulsive
shriek and sob, during that solemn meeting, went to
your heart. For the time, all worldly recollections pass¬
ed away from your mind. You could not have planned
nor executed any earthly enterprise, however gainful or
tempting. Whatever was the absorbing subject of pub¬
lic attention, at the moment, you were almost insensible to
its very existence ; and too much absorbed at home, to
have any personal sympathy with it. Your thoughts and
feelings were concentrated upon the breach—the blank—
made in the family circle! Remember also, how attem
tively you listened to the chapters of the Word of God»
which were read that evening. They were full of mean¬
ing, and almost sounded as if you had never read them be¬
fore. You felt no inclination to quarrel or cavil with the
oracles of God. You were glad to find, that there was so
much in them, suited to the house of mourning, and to the
bleeding heart. Even prayer, however you may have felt
it to be 'a weariness ' before or since, was then sooth¬
ing. You joined in it instinctively, and enjoyed it much»
when it'placedyou under the pitying eye and the shadow¬
ing wing of a paternal God.' Even when it led your
thoughts direct to 'the blood of the Lamb,' as the only plea
for pardon ; and to the grace of the Holy Spirit, as the
only source of purity, you fell in with the strain ofthe peti¬
tions, and were not unwilling to be an entire debtor to the
of divine influence.
87
mercy of the Cross, You saw so clearly—and felt so
keenly—how life, and health, and reason, depended on the
will and power of God, that you could neither doubt nor
wonder that salvation should depend upon his good-will.
In a word, you were ' almost persuaded to be a Christian,'
whilst the infinite importance of being 'altogether' a
Christian, lay before you in the strong light of death, judg¬
ment, and eternity. Thus God ^maketh the heart soft^ in
the day of bereaving visitation. In such a scene, even
Hume burst into tears, and exclaimed, ' O that I had never
doubted*' Now, although all this do not amount to a
spiritual change of heart, it was a moral change, which,
while it lasted, corresponded with the providential dealings
of God with your family : and still, it is both proof and
illustration, to you, of the possibility of having your heart
brought as fully under the power of the Word of God, by
His Spirit, as it was then under the power of His rod, by
His providence* For, if such be the force of circumstances^
when they are solemn and painful, what may not the force
of eternal truth effect on the heart, when accompanied by
the gracious influences of the eternal Spirit? This is the
point, on which I would now concentrate your attention.
Add, if you will, to the tender and intense emotions I have
just recalled, all the deep emotions you have ever expe¬
rienced. You have been very ill at times; and your heart
was softened then. You have had some signal escapes
from imminent danger ; and your heart melted then. You
have witnessed scenes of wo and suffering ; and your sym¬
pathies overcame you. You have even been dissolved in
tears, by reading a tale of "deep interest ; and, amidst the
solitudes of nature or the grave, you have mused, until your
spirit was in full communion with all the aspects and as¬
sociations of the scenery. Well ; to all these fine emotions,
I make my appeal* You justly regard them as manifes-
88 ON MANtY TIEWS
P
tation, of good taste and right feeling: and thus as proofs
that you are not heartless nor frivolous. So do I. Such
sympathies and sensibilities identify you with all who can
think and feel. No mind can reach manhood rtâthout
them. I appeal, however, to what you have felt under the
pressure of affliction, or in the presence of sufTering, or
amidst the silence and solitude of impressive scenes, in or¬
der to show you what you map feel and ought to feel, un¬
der the disclosures and overtures of eternal life.
Now you would be ashamed of yourself, if you had not
wept when the family grave was open ;—if you had not
softened, when the mighty hand of God brought you low :
if you had not yearned with sympathy, when real and
heart-rending suffering fell under your notice. And, is it
no shame to be unmoved bv the curse of a broken law?
No shame to be unmelted by the atoning sufferings of the
Son of God? No shame to be heedless about that 'holi¬
ness, without which no man shall see the Lord I ' Judge
righteous judgment ! I will not call your sensibility vapid
sentimentalism ; nor your sorrows selfish, because they
terminate upon earthly things ; but I will, I must say, that
it is as unmanly, as it is ungodly, to be unfeeling^ whilst
your immortal soul is in peril, and your eternal all in jeop¬
ardy. This—admits of no apology or palliation. It is
equally weak and wicked : as intellectually mean, as it is
morally base. You, yourself, despise this heartlessness,
and denounce such heedlessness, when they trifle with
temporal interests, or with human sorrows. You could
not think well of any man, whatever were his rank in sci¬
ence or society, who could treat his lowest friend, as you
have treated your God and Savior. I refer now, not to
your sins, nor to your short-comings; but to the sheer tri¬
fling with salvation, which you have indulged. Your
soul might need neither mercy nor grace, from the way
OF DIVINE INFLUENCE.
89
you have treated it ; or mercy and grace might never have
cost the Savior a tear nor a groan, from the way you have
treated them.
0
This will not do ! Ye must be born again. All the
character of God and heaven must change for the worse,
if you could be safe for eternity, without a change to the
better. You as much need a new heart now, as you will
need an immortal bodyat the resurrection. And you are not
the person, whoever may be so, to shelter yourself under'
the question of Nicodemus,—' How can the»e things he ? '
The spiritual change you need, can be, just as the moral
changes I have mentioned have been. You can neither de¬
ny nor doubt the power of Providence, to soften your heart j
and, therefore, you cannot question the power of grace,
to sanctify it. You have been moved—melted—penetrat¬
ed, by what God has done ; and as he has said greater
things in His Word, than any He has done by His rod,
greater impressions and improvements may, under the
blessing of His Spirit, be produced by them, on your heart
and character.
Thus, there is no mystery to you, in the necessity of a
new' heart and a right spirit; for, by your own acknowl¬
edgement, you have already experienced that change of
tone and temper, which circumstances can produce; and
that, although not regeneration, is quite enough to prove
that the heart can be regenerated ; and more than enough
to explain how it may be so. Let there be, therefore, no
equivocation or evasion, on this point. I tell you again,
that God * hath made your heart soft,' by means, with which
the agency of His Spirit is not necessarily connected, nor
directly promised : and, if they could bring you *to your
right mind ' for a time, Avhat may not the special means of
grace (with which the work and witness of the Holy
Spirit are connected by covenant) do for you and in you?
90
OF MANLT VIEWS«
For, if the coffia and the grave of a parent, a relative, or a
friend» have, without any reference to the agency or the
the existence of the Spirit, thrown you into such moods of
thought and feeling, that, whilst they lasted, the world was
a blank—^business a burden—and the bare idea of amuse¬
ment hateful,—what might not the study of the cross and
tomb of the Savior effect, were that study carried into the
closet, and conducted with an express reference to * the
mighty working' of the Eternal Spirit?
Do not evade the point of these questions by asking»
whether the renewing work of the Spirit, like the soften¬
ing work of Providence, renders ' the world a blank—^bu¬
siness a burden—and amusement hateful?' You know
that it does not ! My design can only be mistaken wilfully ;
can only be misrepresented wantonly. Nothing is further
from it, (and the inmost voice of your conscience tells you
so!) than to convey an idea, that you must be thrown, by
the work of the Spirit, into the same agitation, or into the
same depression, or into the same deadness to the world,
which you felt during the paroxysms of pain or grief. It
is not for this end. the Spirit of God works; not in this
way, that His influences operate. I mean, it is not to pro¬
duce a continuance of painful emotions, or low spirits, that
He awakens the conscience, and melts the heart. He does
wound; but it isthat he may heal. He does humble;
but it is, that He may revive and cheer ' the contrite ones.'
There is nothing in His work on the heart, to prevent
the due discharge of social duties, or the due en¬
joyment of social life; but, as the healing hand of time
0
leads bereaved mourners gemtly and gradually back
to their wonted composure and proper business, without
doing any violence to the sacredness of their sorrows ;
so the Spirit of all grace leads back the penitent mourner#
to his proper place and work in society, under the influ-*
OF DIVINE INFLUENCE.
91
once of hopes and principles which qualify him to do well
for both worlds.
There is, in conversion, sorrow for sin ; but there is al¬
so the hope of pardon : and, what honest or rational pur¬
suit could be hindered by either ^ There is, in conver¬
sion, self-abasement before God ; but there is also love to
God, and some reliance on Him : and what laudable en¬
terprise or virtuous enjoyment, could these spoil or pre¬
vent ? There is, in con version, a spirit of prayer and watch¬
fulness ; but there is also a spirit of dependence on Grace
and Providence, and, that must be a very questionable busi-
4
ness, and that a more equivocal pleasure, which would be
injured by either spirit. Marvel not that ye must be born
again : for there is nothing in the change, to turn activity
into idleness, or cheerfulness into melancholy, or energy
into weakness, or manliness into pusillanimity. All the
proper business of life would be better conducted; all the
real enjoyment of life more relished; all the noble pur¬
suits of life more successful, and-all the poetry of life
niore lovely, were they combined with the vital godliness
of a regenerated heart. Cowper did not cease to be a
poet, when he became * altogether a Christian.' The harp
of Montgomery rose in sublimity, in proportion as his
heart ascended by the cross, to the throne.
Would there were no necessity for such remarks ! I feel
ashamed of making them. Not, of course, that I doubt
their truth at all ; nor that I care little for the genius which
has been allied with piety : but I am ashamed to plead the
claims of the Eternal Spirit, by proving that they do not
clash with public duty or mental improvement, 0, there
ought to be no necessity for demonstrating or illustrating
this fact, by appeals to the living or to the dead. The
mighty God, the Lord hath spoken, and said, i/e must be
born again, and the splendor of all the thrones and
7
92
ON MANLY VIEWS
crowns of glory attests it ; the letter and spirit of all the
songs of heaven repeat it ; the eternal harmony and com¬
munion of saints and angels imply it; and every manly,
as well as revealed, idea of fellowship with God and the
Lamb, suggests and confirms the universal necessity of'a
new heart.'
I know not, of course, the precise circumstances, under
which you read these hints. You may have stood, lately,
by the death-bed and the grave of an endeared parent or
friend, and if so, you were not unmoved by the scene.
You have not forgotten it; and you feel as if you never
could forget it : it was so solemn and affecting ! Well, it
is not the emotions of that trjang moment, I want to revive,
I have no wish to re-open your wounds, nor to renew thai
sense of desolation, which then awed and agitated your
soul. I just refer to them—that I may refer you to an ex¬
perimental proof of the fact, that the heart can be changed,
in its tone and temper, by the power of solemn providences :
and if they by their own impressiveness, could give quite
a new cast to ypur spirit for a time, you thus see, (and can¬
not wonder when you see it,) how the solemn realities of
salvation and eternity, may becorñe the means of a divine
and pemanent change of heart and character. Your emo¬
tions corresponded with the dispensations of Provi¬
dence; and, in the day of calamity, you would have reck¬
oned yourself fool-hardy or unfeeling, if you had not stood
in awe of the hand of God.
Now, what is wanted, in order to your being 'a new
creature in Christ Jesus,' is, just that your views and feel¬
ings should correspond with ' the truth as it is in Jesus ; '
or, that what God has said and sworn in the Gospel, should
make its own impression on you, just as what He has
dont has made its own impression on you. And, v/hy
should not His Word be as influential and effective as his
OF DIVINE INFLUENCE. 93
rod ? Mark and weigh, then, the facts of your own case.
You are not a stranger to the softening of heart, which the
subduing hand of Providence can produce. You now
see, that if the Gospel were brought home to your feelings,
as pain and loss have been, you must yield to its influence ;
Well 3 the mighty hand of God touched you, just that you
might thus know by experience that your heart was sus¬
ceptible of a saving change; and, that you might follow
up the emotions of a common change, by prayer for the
quickening and converting influences of the Holy Spirit.
O, believe God, when He says, that He ' worketh all these
things, in order to save souls alive.' He has not been
your enemy, nor unkind to you, in thus making you to
drink of the cup of sorrow so soon. He put it into your
hand, for the express purpose of drawing your attention to
'thecupof salvation.' He made the former bitter, that
the latter might be sweet. You were overlooking ' the
water of life ; ' or refusing it ; or flattering yourself that
you would drink in time enough, if you drank before you
died. God marked this ; and, in mercy, give you a check !
He loved your soul too well, to spare your feelings : for
He meant you good, and not evil, when He made you feel
through all your soul, that all your comforts could be
crushed in a moment. This was, indeed, a severe lesson,
but a'salutary one, and intended to prevent the severer les¬
sons of judicial wrath, which time prepares, and eternity
perpetuates- Whereas, God dealeth with you as with
sons ; ' for what son is he whom the Father chasteneth
not? '
0,1 would not for worlds entertain the vague notions of
suffering or sorrow, which are afloat, even amongst those
who talk about *some wise and good end, to be answered
by our trials.' There is such an end intended by God :
but it is both wiser and better than anything which is usu-
94
ON MANLY VIEWS
ally meant by this familiar phrase. All that it amounts to
in popular opinion, is, that trials may be a paving the way
for brighter days ; and» in the meantime, improving the
general character of the sufferer. Now although there be
much truth in this interpretation, the grand truth is not
distinctly in it. That is—that trials form one of God's
methods of saving * souls alive,' by leading sufferers and
mourners direct to the cross and the mercy^seat, to seek
for grace. Salvation is the end which God has in view,
by the discipline of Providence. The good He intends, is
a definite, an infinite, an eternal blessing* It embraces in¬
deed, the general improvement of the character : but it
bases and begins that renewing of the heart, by leading
out the soul to the glories of the atonement^ by bringing
the conscience and the understanding under the authority
of truth, and of the spirit of truth and holiness.
Mark my words. God sympathizes with your sorrows,
far more than any of those who weep whilst you weep.
I do not mean that your friends are insincere ip their sym¬
pathy : but I do mean, that they cannot hold your sorrows
so sacred as God does. He sees in them, and intends by
them, that, which may lead you safe into the heaven of
heavens, by leading you direct to the hope set before you
in the Gospel. Now, his design you must fall in with,
if you would get real good from your trials. All their
natural influence, however moral in its character for a
time, will be as the early cloud and the morning dew,
evanescent. Many have wept at the family grave, who are
now laughing in the chair of the scorner or the drunkard.
Many who imagined that they had buried their vices and
their vanity in the parental tomb, are now filling up the
measure of their iniquity, and taking their swing in both
crime and folly. If, therefore, you meant well, by any
promise you gave to a dying mother ¡ by any tear you
of divine influence
95
shed at a father's sepulchre ; by any pledge you gave to the
God of heaven, when He made your * heart soft,' follow up,
follow out your resolutions—^by following Providence to
the cross of Christ. Providence arose to lead you there.
To bring you there—it smote you. To drive you there—
it repeated its strokes. And the explanation of all its dis¬
cipline is this, ' What is a man profited if he gain the whole
world and lose his own soul ; ' and lose it he must, unless
set himself, by consideration and prayer, to invite and in¬
voke the renewing influences of the Holy Ghost.
Let no man deceive you on this subject. Tell every
man who makes light of a divine change, that he cannot
resist the change which Providence brings on the spirits,
when health gives way, or losses set in, or bereavements
create desolation at home. Why should it be thought a
strange thing, that the heart should be sanctified by a God,
who so often softens it?
h
»
NO. VII.
on manly views of religious mystery,
If the man who first said that, 'Religion ends where
mystery begins,' imagined that he had uttered a smart
thing, he must have been weaker than the witlings who
repeat it. The terseness of the antithesis led them to
adopt it as a maxim. It tickled their ear, and thus be¬
trayed their judgment. They were misled by taking for
granted, that what was so well expressed, must be well
founded. No such excuse, however can be put forward,
on behalf of the author of this sounding fallacy. It duped
96
ON MANLY VIEWS
him before it acquired its witty form. The eyes of his
understanding were hoodwinked, before bis ear was tick¬
led: unless indeed, he was more traitor than fool. But
however this may be, no man, whose sense and sincerity
are equal could be misled, for a moment, by such a scio¬
lism. Tt is as false and absurd as to say, * that travelling
ends where the sea begins.' The mode and medium of
travelling end where the sea begins ; but the motion goes
on, in the new element as well as on land. In like
manner, religion need not end where mystery be¬
gins. There is 'a path in the dark waters' of mystery,
as well as on the table-land of morality. Adoration, mod-
esty, and faith may go on wisely, even when comprehen¬
sion must stop, and reason hesitate. ' We walk hy faith,
not hy sight,^ says Paul ; and in saying this, in regard to
religion, the apostle said no more than every man does, in
almost all the affairs of ordinary life. Both life, and the
means of life, are full of mystery, and call for as much
implicit faith, as the great mystery of godliness requires.
For what aliment of our subsistence do w^e comprehend,
either in its original elements, or in its adaptation to our
nourishment? Mankind have, in fact, nothing to go by,
in the use of food, but faith and experience. I say, faith—
as well as experience: for no length of experience, as to
the usefulness of any article of home or foreign consump¬
tion, could prove to a certainty, that the new supply is as
nutritious as the old stock. Thus we are thrown, from
year to year, on the principle of implicit faith, in God and
man :—in God, by believing that He has not altered the
qualities of the crops ; and in man, by believing that nei¬
ther the growers, nor the sellers of provision have poison¬
ed it. Thus we actually live, by faith in the constancy of
Providence, and in the general integrity and humanity of
mankind. Without implicit faith in both, we should be
OF RELIGIOUS MYSTERY
97
haunted with the suspicion of poisouy whenever w^e eat or
drink. And, were any man to reject food, until he could
understand and explain the entire nature of liquids and
solids, who does not see that he must starve?
Thus there would be no more folly in saying, *that eat¬
ing should end where mystery in food begins/ than there
is in saying, that religion ends where mystery begins. It
is just as truly ascertained by experience, that religion, with
all its mysteries, does good to all who meekly believe them :
as it is, that food, with all its mysteries, sustains those who
use it. Indeed, if mystery ought to stop or disturb any¬
thing in the affairs of life or godliness, what would it not
put an end to ; for they are all based on mysteries. Were
religion to end where mystery begins, religion could not
hegindX all, in earth or heaven. For, were religion noth¬
ing but mere ' bodily service/ in obedience to simple rules,
the very utterance of these rules by God, and the bare ap-
of them by man, would be inexplicable myster¬
ies. Our familiarity with the power of words to convey
ideas, renders us insensible to this fact ; but, the moment
we try to explain or comprehend that power, we are lost.
It is as much a mystery as instinct. In a word ; a reli¬
gion without mystery, must be a religion without a God:
for the moment a God is admitted, mystery begins, and
can never end. Unitarianism pretends, indeed, to be a re¬
ligion without mysteries : and, certainly, it is not the fault
of its votaries, that any mystery cleaves to that system.
They have done all that men could do to rid it of them ; and
sorhewhatmore than even the devil ever ventured to try;
for he did not venture to question the inspiration of the texts,
quoted against his proposals in the wilderness, nor to evade
their force by analyzing their figures. But still, after all
that has been dared and done, to rid Unitarianism of mys¬
tery, even the oneness of its God leaves him incomprehensi-
ON MANIT TIEWS
bU'. and, what more can Trinitarianism make him? I
é
readily allow thatthereis less mystery in the theory of one
person in the Godh^d, than in the revelation of three per¬
sons in the unity pf the Godhead: but, as even the Unita¬
rian theory ascribes infinity or omnipresence to its God, it
thus announces so much mystery, that the faith which bows
to that infinity, need not stagger at the revealed plurality
of the divine essence. That essence may surely subsist in
inconceivable forms, seeing it is allowed, even by simplifi-
ers, to pervade the infinitude of space. This is, however,
a question of püre revelation ; and, therefore, may be soon
settled. I say * soon/ because there cannot be * two sides *
of the question in the Bible. For, if it be the fact that there
is but one person in the Godhead, it is also the fact, that the
Bible is intended to teach the unity of the Godhead : and,
therefore, all that the Bible says must be on one side of the
question. There is either nothing in it about the Father
alone being God, or all that is in it ascribes divinity to no
one else. But what is the fact ? It is, that the lively ora¬
cles proclaim the divinity of the Son, as much as the divin¬
ity of the Father: and claim for Him all the works and
worship which they ascribe to the Father. And, is this
the way to teach, that there is but one person in the God¬
head ? This is the way in which revelation teaches the
unity of the Godhead. In like manner, it ascribes to the
Holy Spirit, both the attributes and operations which are
peculiar to deity. Accordingly, on almost all minds, in all
nations to whom 'the word of God has come,' it has left
the impression, that there is a Trinity in the Godhead.
Even on the minds of those who deny the Trinity, the
Bible has leñ a conviction, that it requires much learning,
labor, and dexterity, to prevent it from making men Trini¬
tarians. It keeps Unitarians for ever on the stretch, to
counteract its natural influence on the public mind.
OF RELIGIOUS MYÍi'EltT/.Hi^ií'r »TlhN99
U[^l/ H 47/
Weigh these facts. Had the ffibTe^feh InÍéñdefl to
teach mankind, that the'Father alone is God, there would
have been nothing in it contrary to this ; nothing inconsis¬
tent with this 5 nothing to cloud or encumber this; yea,
there ought to have been nothing in it, that could suggest
the bare idea of the Son or the Spirit being divine also :
but there is so much in it contrary to, and inconsistent
with, the exclusive divinity of the Father, that almost all
who receive the Scriptures as a revelation from heaven,
J
become Trinitarians; and^even those who do not become
so, can only maintain their existence as a séct, by expung¬
ing many parts of the Bible, and explaining away the ob¬
vious sense of more. Now, no Unitarian book produces
any such impression upon the mind of its readers. Neither
criticism nor caution is needed, in order to prevent us from
imagining that Priestley or Belsham taught the doctrine of
the Trinity. Both the letter and spirit of their writings,
are uniformly and unequivocally against it. Why, then, is
not the Bible equally against the Trinity, if the doctrine
be untrue? Why is there anything in Scripture, that sug¬
gests the bare idea of three persons in the Godhead, if
there be only one ? No other rational answer can be given
to these questions, than that the Bible never was intended
toteach the exclusive divinity of the Father. Accordingly,
it has led the immense majority of all who have read it, to
believe that Father, Son, and Spirit, are one Jehovah.
There is, indeed, mystery in the doctrine of the Trinity :
but both the Bible and Providence would be a ' mystery of
iniquity,* if it were not true ¡ for they spread widely, aqd
support uniformly, nothing else on the subject of the divine
nature. If, therefore, there be great mystery in the doc¬
trine, all the great miracles of omnipotence, and all the
great measures of Providence, and all the signal monu¬
ments of antiquity, and all the populous traditions of the
10(K
ON) MANLY VIEWS
wofldj are on its side. It is not an unsanctioned nor an
unenshrined mystery. The seal'of heaven accredits its
truth, and the smiles of heaven accelerate its triumphs.
Amidst the number and splendor of its vouchers and vic¬
tories, it is almost impossible 'to remember that there is, or
ever was, in existence, such a petty thing as Unitarian-
ism.
It is, therefore, more than mystery, that he rejects, who
rejects the Trinity. In doing that, he sets himself in op¬
position to all the verdicts of experience, and to all the vis¬
ions of immortality : for the former accredit no other gos¬
pel but the Trinitarian, as *the power of God unto salva¬
tion,' or even unto moral reformation; and the latter illus¬
trate nothing more clearly, than that all the armies of hea¬
ven unite in * honoring the Son, even as they honor the
Father.'
Look at the latter fact first. You know nothing of
heaven, but just what is revealed concerning it. No man
has any more information on the subject, or can obtain
more. It is not the heaven of revelation, there¬
fore, that he looks for, who confines his adoration to the
Father, or withholds his confidence from the blood of the
Lamb. For, what part could betake in hallelujahs, which
glorify God and the Lamb equally; or in anthems, which
ascribe salvation entirely and exclusively to the blood of
atonement? This is the worship of heaven ; and it swells
equally from the hearts and harps of saints and angels. What
therefore, could a Unitarian do there,—but either confess
that he had never believed the Bible; or charge all heaven
with idolatry and error ? This would be, in fact, his only al¬
ternative. He could do nothing, but acknowledge himçelf
to have been a fool on earth, or impeach the whole * gen¬
eral assembly ' of saints and angels, as idolaters- Is it
not, therefore, unmanly, yea mean, even to contemptible-
ness, to talk of heaven, and yet to treat Christ as a mere
OF RELIGIOUS MYSTERY.
101
man and a martyr ? It cannot, surely, be the heaven of
revelation, which Unitarians mean, when they speak of a
%
glorious immortality ; for « the Lamb is the light and glo¬
ry' of the Immortality illuminated by the gospel: and if
they do mean another heaven, why do they not speak out,
and tell us plainly where and what it is ? Those should
not mystify, who denounce mystery !
After this, never pretend that you know not what creed
to adopt. If you desire to spend your eternity in the heav¬
en which the Savior opened in the visions of Patmos, and
announced in his sermons, adopt the creed of that heaven.
Adore God and the Lamb, as all the armies of it do; and
thus you can never be at a loss. There will, indeed, still
be mystery—much and great mystery; but all of it open¬
ly sanctioned by all who are around the throne, and by
' Him that sitteth on the throne.'
Look now at the second fact. All the verdicts of expe¬
rience accredit Trinitarianism, as 'the truth as it is in Je¬
sus.' All fulfilled and fulfilling prophecy, and all signal
Providences, are on its side. The mysterious creed is,
thus, the only -form of Christianity, which has ever been
successful or sanctifying, in our world. Weigh this fact.
Prophecy supposes and requires the existence and ex¬
ercise of a special Providence, in order to its fulfillment;
and an overruling Providence, once established, opens
such a guardianship for truth in the world, that we may
naturally expect to find the latter under the wing of the
former, and the wheel of Providence in the track of the
♦
gospel, breaking up its way amongst the nations, and
gradually crushing down opposition. Now, if Unitari-
anismbe'íAe truth as it is in Jesus* it,itand alone,will exhibit
on its side, all the signal interpositions of Providence since
the Christian era. For, if they have been on the side of
Trinitarianism, God, on Unitarian principles, has been
102
ON MANLY VIEWS
giving currency to error and success to absurdity. This
hint will prepare you for the following part of this essay;
in which 1 will endeavor to show you, that there is no al¬
ternative, but denying a special Providence altogether, or
admitting that, hitherto, it has been exercised in behalf of
Trinitarianism, and against Unitarianism- I have re¬
course to this argument, not only because it is conclusive,
but because it is simple, and more suited than critical dis¬
quisitions, to all capacities. Every person is familiar with
the doctrine of an overruling Providence, and in the habit
of expecting the hand of God on the side of his own cause.
This is as it should be, and a happy circumstance for one
of the creeds.
Truth, you will allow, is an important thing in any state
of society; and never was more wanted than at the time
when Christ began to promulgate it to the world. Error
was then triumphant, and stood Colossus-like, with one
foot on Mars' Hill, and the other on the Tarpeian mount.
Het right hand rested on the pyramids of Egypt,—and
her left on the pillars of Hercules ; around her gigantic
form, wreathed the incense of ten thousand altars ; her
embossed pedestal was purpled with blood, and her shrine
hung with the shields of the mighty, and the harps of an¬
tiquity. Beneath the shadow of her wings, lay the tombs
of generations, sculptured with every emblem but Immor¬
tality,—and her temples, whilst they enchanted the eye,
lent all their charms to licentiousness and fiction. Such
was the sway and fascination of error, when Truth, in the
meek and lowly form of a servant, sat down on the Mount
of Olives to teach mankind. A few indigent fishermen
I were her first adherents, and, until the splendor of her
miracles gave eclat to her doctrines, her ' gracious words '
could hardly redeem her from public contempt. But her
cause was heaven's cause—and heaven interfered to vin-
OF RELIOIOÜS MYSTERT*
103
dicate it, by enabling Truth to wield the elements, at will
—to bind death and diseases in chains—and to reap her
trophies on every field of misery and despair.. And this
she did successfully.
But I forget ; personification is admissible only in an
oration, and 1 am writing an essay. In plain terms, then,
Providence smiled upon the sermons of Christ and his
apostles, and made subsiding storms, retiring disorders,
and opening graves, ■ the harbingers and pioneers of the
gospel. The eyes of the blind were opened to behold its
heralds—^the ears of the deaf unstopped to hear them-J>-
the tongues of the dumb unloosed to hail them—^the under¬
standing of the weak enabled fo comprehend them; until
the world witnessed classes of the unfortunate, once unfit
to take any part in the form of religion, exclaiming in the
spirit of it, • How beautiful on the mountains are the feet
of them that preach the gospel of peace, and bring glad
tidings of good things ! ' Thus the ministry of reconcil¬
iation was introduced with a degree of glory that excelled
even the splendid patronage under which Judaism opened.
The rocks of Gennesaret were made as famons as Baalze-
phon—the Mount of Olives vied with Horeb, and Calvary
became more monumental than Sinai, Miracles made
every element and every obstacle tributary to the cause of
truth. By such * signs and wonders^ God taught the
world to expect, that the gospel never would be left without
a witness of some kind. And the expectation thus awak¬
ened, was not weakened in the least, even when miracles
were withdrawn ; but the church continued to calculate,
as sanguinely, upon support and countenance from on
High, when the pentecostal tongues of fire became ex¬
tinct, as when they glowed in all the freshness of novelty;
becatjse the moment miracles ceased, the visions of proph¬
ecy began ; opening a vista through futurity, illuminated
104 ON MANLY VIEWS
I
at every point by the bright and morning Star,—and ter¬
minated only by the great white throne and the brink of
eternity. God did not more signally prove Himself by mir¬
acles, to be on the side *of truth, than He solemnly
pledged Himself, by prophecy, to continue on its side for¬
ever. Is He, then ? Has He ever been, on the side of
Unitarianism? If so—when? where? how? The right
hand of God is not such an indefinite or indistinct object
but it may be pointed to, when it is stretched out in his
own cause. He has made it iare, in the sight of all na¬
tions : successive ages have said of successive interposi¬
tions, * Is not this the finger of God Î * And at this mo¬
ment the Christian world feel themselves on the verge of
a grand moral era, the very dawn of which sets them on
tiptoe as they gaze. And, has Unitarian ism neither part
nor lot in]this matter ? Is she * like the heath in the desertf
that knoweth not when good comes? Seriously, this hint
begins to wear a dark aspect on that cause. It is high
time for Unitarians to collect witnesses : for I should
think they could not sleep, until like Ahasuerus, they
* commanded to bring the hook of the Chronicles ' of the
Unitarian kingdom. Or, shall I save them the trouble,
by stating at once, that there has been nothing to register,
but disasters and defeats Î Of late, indeed, their system
has obtained a name and place in the old Presbyterian
chapels of England; but how was possession gained?
Tell it not in Gath !—under the mask of orthodoxy—^by
means you would not connect Providence with, nor attempt
to sanctify by their success. And, as this event stamps
indelible disgrace upon those Unitarians, who ^with feign¬
ed words made merchandise ' of the Trinitarian congrega¬
tions—where are. the interpositions of Providence on be¬
half of the new system? But I forget: it claims, of
course, all the miraculous and signal interpositions of
OF RELIGIOUS MYSTERY.
105
Providence, during the first and stcond centuries ; since,
according to its own account, Unitarianism was the prim¬
itive system. Now, suppose I grant this, for a moment,
for the sake of argument, what does it lead to ? In fact,
to a conclusion which, of itself, disproves the assumption.
For, if it were true, that all the miracles were wrought in
behalf of Unitarianism, it w^ould be true, also, that all the
prophecies were written in its behalf : but as none of the
latter have been fulfilled in its favor, none of the former
belong to it,—because, both must be found on one side, or
not at all. Granting again, however, that it was Unitari¬
anism, which was ushered into the world amidst the songs
of angels, and under the banners of miracles; that for it,
a highway was opened into * Cœsar's household,^ and all
across the moral wilderness of the three continents ; how
comes it that God abandoned Unitarianism when the ban¬
ners of miracles were folded up? How do you account
, for its triumphs ceasing ever since, and its being left to the
scorn of every church and state in Christendom? Why
is it, that every thing known or acknowledged as Provi¬
dence, has, since the failure of miracles, frowned on that
creed ? This is not the manner of the Most High, in re¬
gard to truth—this is not what we are taught to expect
from His management. God, (if Unitarianism were the
gospel,) has been harassing and depressing the gospel,
for fifteen hundred years, and making every vicissitude
and revolution abet the cause of error.
I will alloAV all the weight you please, to the success ol
Unitarianism in America—In Geneva—in England: this
token for good shall be as good, as Unitarians choose to call
it : as encouraging as they say. Yea; weave their laurels
into all the width of surface, which their greenness an(J
length will go to ; they are but shoots of yesterday, or
both sides of the Atlantic. Now, this ought not to be th(
106
ON MANLY VIEWS
case—if they are the laurels of truth. Besides, if God
has any hand in the recent success of that sect, how do
you account for his hand being withdrawn during fifteen
hundred years ? Were you to claim, even the age of So-
cinus, as the era when the primitive truth was revived,
there would be still an awful series of ages between that
and the third century—and in none of them, can you dis¬
cern Truth and Providence together. I multiply and
press such questions, because the doctrine of an over-rul¬
ing Providence seems fully recognized by some of their
best writers. Dr. Rees, in his oration, delivered on laying
the first stone of the Old Jewry Chapel, says of the sys¬
tem, ' It is under the protection of the God of nature and
providence : and we are assured by the Word of divine
truth, that the gates of Hades shall not prevail against it.
Providence will raise in this place, and in other places of
a similar kind, a succession of those who will retain and
avouch the principles of their fathers. The stone which
is now to be fixed in its proper place, will, I trust, be an
emblem not only of the durability of this edifice, but of
the permanency of the society to which it belongs. It will,
in this respect, resemble that rock on which the founder
of our Christian faith hath built his church.'
These are excellent sentiments ; but, were they not equal¬
ly true and applicable, when the foundation stones of the
primitive chapels were laid? Had not the Rees's of that
age, when, according to the Rees's of this age, Unitarian-
ism was orthodoxy, a right to calculate on Providence
•raising up a succession of those who should retain and
avouch the principles of their fathers? ' Such a succes¬
sion, however, were not raised up until Socinus appeared.
This single fact, therefore, is fatal either to the doctrine of
Providence, or to the pretensions of Unitarians. Which
of the two^ then, will they give up as untenable; for both
OF RELIGIOUS MYSTERY
107
they cannot retain. I leave Unitarians to adjust these
jarring events—and proceed to remind yov, of the triumphs
of that systeni—the doctrines of which are mysterious.
I have granted, for the sake of argument, that Unita-
rianism might be the primitive system ; and we have seen
that it was soon forsaken by Providence. Now, only pay
me back the compliment for a moment, and grant that
Trinitarianism was the primitive system ; and ii you find
that forsaken by Providence, in any age since the Chris¬
tian era. I will admit that you have established a serious
objection against it.
Assuming, then, that Trinitarianism was the system
taught by Christ and his apostles, the sudden death of
Constantino saved it from the deep-laid scheme of Euse¬
bius to establish Arianism in its room- Constans main¬
tained it in the western empire, until he was murdered.
Constantius could not stifle it—nor Julian sneer it into
contempt—nor Valens eradicate it—nor Apollinaris cor¬
rupt it. Even, whilst the imperial sceptre was shifting
like a shadow, from hand to hand, and the state of relig¬
ion modelling according to state policy, Trinitarianism
held its place, from the time of Constantino till that of
Theodosius, when it became dominant, and has continued
so ever since. It became encumbered, indeed, under a
succession of popes, with a load of folly and extravagance;
caught a form of absurdity and a spirit oí fire, and appear¬
ed on the seven hills of Rome more like a destroying angel
than a messenger of peace. These fiery elements, how¬
ever, which glowed around Trinitarianism then, were not
fed from the bosom of its radical doctrines, but issued from
the volcanoes of ecclesiastical ambition. In proof of this,
I appeal to the system since it has been disentangled by
the reformers. Luther snatched it from the electric atmos¬
phere of Rome ; Calvin, from the feudalism of the Ger-'
8
108
ON UANtY VIEWS
manic electors; Knox, from the clanship of the Scotch ;
Cromwell from the teeth of the Stuarts; and, now that it is
still farther disencumbered by the Orthodox, it is both tole¬
rant and benevolent. It is the fact, therefore, that ever
since Trinitarianism, like a vessel, was launched from the
port of Judea upon the sea of public opinion, she has not
only rode out every storm, during eighteen centuries, but
touched at every shore, and colonized every island.
It will not do, in the face of all this, for Unitarians to
affect composure, and exclaim * Truth is greats and will
prevail? Truth has always been great—and her great¬
ness of that kind which has always insured, what their
system never had—the smiles of Providence! Audit
would be still worse, to evade these arguments by saying
that Unitarianism has had but a short time for her experi¬
ments on the world. It has been brief, certainly ; but the
shorter you prove it to be—the longer you make the pe¬
riod during which Providence abandoned and overthrew
what they call ' The Truth?
If the foregoing remarks illustrate any thing to the point,
it is, that public opinion, prophecy, and Providence, wear
an equally unfavorable aspect towards Unitarianism. Pub¬
lic opinion braves the sytem—prophecy brands it Anti¬
christ—Providence which forms public opinion and fulfils
prophecy, abandons their cause, upon every great move¬
ment of the moral world.
I come, now, to the manifest inconsistencv between the
tenor of Scripture, and the tenor of Unitarianism. And,
as my limits impose the utmost brevity, I must have re¬
course to a mode of illustration, which will give multum
in parvo,
Unitarianism is a system,—and according to Unitarians,
2i perfect sum m.ary of the revealed will of God to man, for
the obedience of faith. Now, if it be a perfect digest of
of rfligiovs mystery. 109
divine truth, (and it ought to be so before urging it on the
world,) it wants nothing but the formal authority of the
Bible, to make it equal to the Bible. For, if a transfer of
that authority to the system, did not raise it to an equal
rank with the Scriptures—it could only be, because it is
unscriplural in its present state. They say—it is not ; and
cannot say otherwise without giving up its claims. Sup¬
pose, then, for a moment, that God, in a visible and indis¬
putable manner, should abolish the Bible entirely, and give
to the world, in its stead, a written copy of the Unita¬
rian System, having all the authority and sacredness
which the Bible has had. You know, that God could do
so, and, by a few signal miracles, stamp the divinity of the
latter, as high as the former. Suppose all this done, in
the eyes of all nations ; and the creed of every nation Uni¬
tarian ¡ and this state of things five hundred years old;
and the present Bible utterly forgotten ; and the existing
commentaries and orthodox writings lost; and nothing ex¬
tant but what Unitarians approve of now. They can
have no serious objections to these suppositions, because
the chief part of them are hopes they cherish, and wish to
see realized.
Now, suppose that after five hundred years, (when their
system would be dominant, and endeared by as many pious
and learned works, as Trinitarianism now boasts,) some
minister of talents and influence, should address such a
circular^ as the following, to the Unitarian churches ;
Dearly Beloved,
Grace be with you, mercy, and peace from God the
Father, and from the Lord Jesus Christ, the Son of the
Father, in truth and love ! All men should honor the
Son, even as they honor the Father. And let all the an¬
gels of God worship him,—for he is before all things and
by Him all things consist. By him were all things crea-
110
ON. MANLY VIEWS
ted, that are in heaven, and that are in earth, visible and
invisible, whether they be thrones, or dominions, or prin¬
cipalities or powers : all things were made by Him, and
for Him. His goings forth were of old, even from ever¬
lasting. When His Father addressed Him, He said,
• Thy throne, 0 God, is for ever and ever ! Thou, Jeho¬
vah, in the beginning didst lay the foundation of the earth :
and the heavens are the works of thy hands ! ' There¬
fore, it becomes us to ascribe 'Blessing) and honor, and
glory, and power, unto him that sitteth on the throne, and
unto the Lamb for ever and ever : because he that hon*
oreth not the Son, honoreth not the Father. The grace
of our Lord Jesus Christ be with )''ou all Amen.'
How would such a letter be received by churches form¬
ed on the principle, that divine names and divine honors, are
the exclusive rights of the Father ? The writer would be
branded as an idolater, and his letter committed to the ñames.
Or, if any one leaned to his opinions,—an appeal would
be made to the New Bible, (which I have supposed,) and
the wavering brother dared to produce from it one instance
in which Christ is called God, Jehovah, or Creator. And
you know, that he could not, if any of the existing sum¬
maries of Unitarianism were exalted into the rank of the
Bible, and substituted in its room. And if these passages,
which I have thrown into the form of a letter, would savor
of idolatry, five hundred years hencC) (under that state of
thingSj I have supposed,) they do so now, on every prin¬
ciple, but that of the Son's equality with the Father.
Thus, there is no alternative, but to embrace mystery, or
to succumb to absurdity. Even Deists see this, and laugh
at the farce of retaining the Bible, and discarding mys¬
tery.
NO. VIII
on manly views of divine holiness.
The most natural and scriptural idea we can form of
the divine life and blessedness, * from everlasting,' is, that
the past eternity was occupied in planning, what will take
the future eternity to accomplish. And now, observe;—
the infinite holiness of Jehovah, was the basis of His in¬
finite happiness from everlasting. God has been blessed
for ever, because holy for ever ;—for on no other ground
could eternal happiness rest or remain.
It has been often proved, to demonstration, that if God
had not always been. He never could have been at all : and
it is equally capable of demonstration, that if He
had not been always holy, he never could have been
happy. This fact is self-evident, when viewed in
connection with the eternity which preceded all created
being and things ; for then, besides himself, there was no¬
thing to delight in, or to be occupied with. If, therefore, the
eternal mind was not of a character to find enjoyment in
itself, and to be the spring of its own felicity, it had no
resource whatever beyond itself,—and must have been mis¬
erable. I repeat it—God must from everlasting have been
miserable, if not immaculately holy from everlasting;—
because prior to the birth of time, there were no external
sources of enjoyment : and internal there could not have
been, if purity was wanting ; because, in that case, there
was no security against bad feelings—which are their own
punishment. Mind, whether created or uncreated, is of
such a nature, that it cannot cease from thinking or feeling
112
ON MANLY VIEWS
about itself or something; and in proportion to its power is
its activity. Now the powers of the eternal Mind being
infinite, must have been infinitely active: and if active
only or even often about evil—conscious misery, in the
same degree, must have been the consequence. 1 dare not
trust myself to follow out this argument; but I see at a
glance, how an unholy God must be a wretched being,
exactly in proportion to His intellectual energy. Such a
being might annihilate himself, or become insane, during
the height and sweep of infinite passions. But I check my
own mind: the true God is essentially and infinitely holy ;
and therefore has been eternally happy. No wrong thought
^ or feeling ever passed through his mind; but, from
everlasting, its powers circled around its plans, calm and
bright as the sea of glass around the throne of glory. And
what must the holiness of the divine nature be, seeing it
has for ever maintained the balance and harmony of infi¬
nite energies, although all in eternal exercise; upheld from
everlasting the tranquillity and equanimity of that mind,
through which all the aflfairs of all worlds—of all beings
—of all time—of all eternity, have passed in revision, de¬
liberation, and judgment? This mighty sum of beings,
things, and events, even if all uniformly lovely in them¬
selves, seem loo immense to be contemplated with unmixed
pleasure or unfailing patience:—and, diversified as they
are by vice and weakness, it seems impossible to have even
thought of them all, without passion or pain. And, with¬
out being glorious in holiness, God could not have viewed
them, unimpaired in His own happiness : but strange to
tell!—holiness, the very perfection which makes evil ab¬
horrent to God, is the very perfection which from eternity
upheld His bliss and composure in contemplating all things.
These are wonderful themes, if we only had strength to
follow them up to their height: but even as bare hints,
OF DIVINE HOLINESS
IJ
they are inspiring to reflecting minds. I love to get di:
entangled from time, and the chequered scenes of life,-
until I live, in thought, before them all. I cannot shake c
the perplexities occasioned by the aspect of nature an
providence, until I get beyond their birth, and into the so
itary depths of a silent eternity :—but, then, although ;
one sense lost, in another I am found, by simple facU
hy solid principles ; by self-evident maxims, which, lil
guardian angels, take me by the hand, and conduct me ii
to marvellous light, and peace unspeakable. If you ca
hardly believe this, I will give you a specimen of reasoi
ing, in that glorious retirement of the soul—the eternil
before time.
I enter it looking for the throne of God :—I find tl
high and holy place:—I am assured that the Holy Or
has dwelt there from eternity, glorious in holiness ! At
now, I want no more to reason from. On this basis,
can build up the theory of the universe He is to create, ai
of the government He is to establish. Thus :—Will
God infinitely holy, rise from His eternal throne to mal
any thing evil ? No. To do any thing evil ? No. 1
act contrary to his nature? No. To tarnish His unsullii
purity? No. Then, let the universe of being rise when
will ; let His system of government be promulgated whe
it may: all will be right—alias it should be; for tl
author of all is glorious in holiness. Men and things ms
be mysterious, changeable, chequered, in their lot, aspee
and character ; but whatever evil there may be in eithe
a Holy God cannot be the author of it. Having got ho
of this self-evident and certain truth, I bring it down
the fall and fate of angels : they are miserable in all the
immortal powers : no wonder ; they are unholy ; and ui
holiness would make God Himself miserable. Even h
happiness could not survive the loss of His holiness ; ho
114
ON MANLY VIEWS
then could theirs ? I now apply the principle to mankind :
misery, both natural and moral, abounds in the world ; all
men are more or less unhappy at all times: they search
creation for happiness in vain, and find only vexation of
spirit. This seems hard ; but they are wAoZy; and there¬
fore inevitably unhappy. God Himself could not avoid
being wretched, were He unholy. His creatures are,
therefore, even in the depths of their wretchedness, only
what He Himself must be, were He like them in heart
and character. Here then I deny that there is any nys-
tery in the severest dispensations of Providence, if you
admit that there is sin in all that sufler by them. While
men are unholy, they must be unhappy: this consequence
is as natural and inevitable, as darkness after sunset, or
cold in winter. Now the sun of divine holiness has held
an eternal meridian ; and, therefore, God has been blessed
forever; but the sun of human holiness has set; and,
therefore, men are unhappy. In the case of the children
of God, that sun is rising again, and, therefore, they are
rising again to enjoyment and peace ; but not until it shine
in perfect day, will either be perfect. Away, therefore,
with the unprincipled clamor about hard lots, heavy calam¬
ities, mysterious trials : I have had my share of them ; but
I see nothing unfair or unaccountable in them. Those,
therefore, who only condole and sympathize with suffer¬
ers, defeat their own kind purpose : for the misery they
strive to mitigate, admits of no effectual cure, but restora¬
tion to true holiness, or the image of God. While,
therefore, I wish my heart to be like the rivtr-spongt^ sat¬
urated with the passing streams of another's sorrow, and
weeping with those that weep, I must belie all right prin¬
ciple, if I do not feel chiefly for their and my own want of
holiness.
Having thus given you some idea, of how essential ho-
OF DIVINE HOLINESS
115
liness is, even to the happiness of God, you will now be
prepared to go fully into the subject of this essay.
His holiness is represented as the beauty of His nature
and character. Even Plutarch, the heathen Philosopher,
obtained, somehow, a glimpse of this fact, and said, ' Holi¬
ness is the beauty of the divine essence ; God is not so
happy by an eternity of life, as by excellency of virtue.'
Proclus calls God, ' the undefiled Governor of the world.'
And it was to keep this beauty of the divine nature untar¬
nished, that some of the wisest of the heathen writers, in¬
vented the eternity of matter : to that, they ascribed all
sin, that they might acquit God of being the author of sin:
so sacred was their idea of His holiness. In like manner,
to absolve God from all taint or suspicion of evil, the Ma-
nichean heretics maintained two eternal principles ; the
one the origin of all evil, the other the origin of all good :
thus running into absurdities in order to avoid that contra¬
diction in terms, an unholy God. Now, if heathens and
heretics were thus careful to invest God with the beauty
of holiness, we may expect that the sacred writers would
not neglect to do so. Accordingly Jehosophat summons
all the vocal and instrumental powers of music, to the
theme, that they might praise the beauty of holiness. To
behold the beauty of the Lord, David desired to dwell in
the house of the Lord for ever. To illustrate it, he repre-
i
sents Jehovah clothed with light as a garmeut. In like
manner, both the Old and New Testament writers
agree in exhibiting the divine holiness as the beauty, which
captivates and charms all the armies of heaven ; *they rest
not day nor night, crying. Holy, holy, holy, Lord God
, Almighty.' Thus while the Bible calls the omnipotence
of God His arm ; His omniscience His eye ; His mercy
His heart; His infinity His form; His eternity His life;
they call His holiness His beauty. And, agreeably to
i
UI« UlAjNI^Y Vl£Wa
f
this fíne idea, that beauty is made to beautify, with its own
reflected loveliness, every thing it relates to. This is so
well illustrated by a living writer, that I cannot do so well
as quote his own words: 'Because heaven is the habita*
tion of the holy God, it is called His holy heaven :
because the temple was the place where He gracious¬
ly aflbrded the indications of His presence, it was called
His holy temple: the very ground on which Jehovah con¬
descended to admit Moses to an audience, was called holy
ground : the mountain on which the Savior was transfig¬
ured was called the holy mount : the day set apart for di¬
vine worship is called the holy day: and in a iar higher
sense are the people of God called a holy people.' I will
only add to this fine enumeration, the unparalleled emblem
of David, where he describes the beauty of the holiness
of the Savior's people, as 'the dew from the womb of the
morning.' And if their infinite and reflected holiness
will be eventually as the morning dew; with what beauty
must' infinite and essential purity invest Jehovah ! Well
may it be said, the heavens are not clean in His sight.
His holiness is represented as the glory of His nature,
character, and government.
It is on this principle that God celebrates His justice as
holy justice; His wisdom as holy wisdom ; His omnipo¬
tence as His holy arm ; His omniscience as his holy eye :
His truth as His holy promise; His commands as His
holy law ; and all his works as holy works. Thus He is
altogether glorious in holiness: for, without that, says
Charnock, His patience would be indulgence to sin, His
mercy a fondness, His wrath a madness, His power a
tyranny, His wisdom a subtilty. His holiness gives a
decorum to all. • Were not all His perfections distinguish¬
ed and adorned by the quality of holiness,' says Dr. Bur¬
der, ' He who sways the sceptre of the universe might be
OF DIVINE HOLINESS.
117
an object of dread, but not of love or confidence. Such a
being might become the scourge and terror of creation.
This is, indeed, strong language; but I quote it without
apology, because if I employed my own upon the subject,
it would be far stronger, without being less true; for if
anything be morally certain, it is, that without holiness
there would be no real glory in any one of the divine per¬
fections, because no security for their rational or fair ex¬
ercise. It is not, how^ever, necessary to pursue this ar¬
gument farther : let us, therefore, satisfy ourselves, that ho¬
liness is the glory of all the divine perfections.
To prove and illustrate this fact, in the case of each at¬
tribute of Jehovah, would occupy more space than I can
command; I will, therefore, confine my remarks to His
Vdercy and justice ; for these two virtually include all the
rest.
Now, holiness is the glory of divine mercy, whether
that mercy be viewed as the disposition of God, the pur¬
pose of God, or the act of God : in all these characters, it
has its chief glory in its holiness. And, in this way ; mercy
viewed as the disposition of Jehovah,or as His feelings, flows
from His love of holiness ; for, had He not loved that su¬
premely and unspeakably. He would have felt no sympathy
for sinners, but would have allowed them to be unholy still.
Had He cared nothing, or but little, about holiness, He
could have had no motive nor inclination to provide a Sav¬
ior ; for, of what consequence could it be, however, vile
man were, if God wer? indifferent about purity. But, be¬
cause he loved purity infinitely, He so loved the world as
to give His only begotten Son to be the Propitiation for
sin and the Redeemer from sin. His mercy, in its princi¬
ple, plan, and gift, is, therefore, the measure of His love to
holiness ; because the practical design of all his mercy, is,
to bring around his throne, in the beauty of holiness, a
118
ON MANLY VIEWS
multitude which no man can number; ail without spot or
blemish. That His people may be holy as He is holy,
He made his Son unto them, ® wisdom, righteousness and
sanctification.* Thus every step, struggle, sacrifice, and
triumph of mercy, on behalf of man, was on behalf of
holiness too ; love to the latter furnished the motive, inflam¬
ed the desire, fortified the resolution, found the means, of
redeeming the former. Holiness is, therefore, the glory
of mercy. The plan of mercy, is a holy covenant; the
Mediator of mercy, a holy Savior; the Applier of
mercy, a holy Spirit ; the fruits of mercy, a holy gen¬
eration ; the final glory of mercy, a church like unto
Him who is the express image of the father of mer¬
cies. Well, therefore, may I call upon myself and you,
in the language of Jehosophat, ' Praise ye the beauty of
holiness,* and in the language of David, ' Give thanks at
the remembrance of God*s holiness.' Well may we
charge our souls to love holiness supremely ; for had not
God loved it so, He would not have so loved the world, as
to give His Son to save His people from their sins.
I must not quit this part of the subject, without availing
myself of the fine opportunity it aflbrds for attaching dis¬
tinct ideas to the general maxim, that the cause of all that
God has done in salvation, is simply the advancement of
his own glory. Nothing can be more true than this max¬
im ; but let not your ideas of its meaning be vague. The
glory of Jehovah is His goodness. Why? Just because
holiness is the foundation and spring of all His goodness.
He is good, because He is holy ; for to spread, exalt and
perpetuate holiness throughout the universe, His tender
mercies are over all His other works. We do not, there¬
fore, go far enough, when we trace redemption to the love
of God, as its first cause ; and to the glory of God, as its
final end. That ought to be done, cannot be too often
done; but, whenever it is done, there is another thing that
OF DIVINE HOLINESS«
119
should not be left undone ; namely, tracing the love of
God to its origin or moral cause ; which is the holiness
of the divine nature, or God's love of righteousness.
Nothing can be more certain than this ; for an unholy
God could neither have motive nor inclination to love the
world, in the way the High and Holy One has done.
Here, then, are distinct ideas of His glory being the final
end of all His works ; it is the promotion of holiness by
the exercise of goodness. Allow me, therefore, to indulge
my feelings for a moment here, and to say, ' Holiness !
thou art the fountain of all the love, the grace, the mercy,
and the goodness, which are to us the fountains of salva¬
tion ! Thou art the foundation of all the kindness, conde¬
scension, and faithfulness, which are to us the foundations
of hope and confidence I Thou art the shield of the un-
changeableness, truth, and omnipotence, which are to us
the shields of eternal safety and protection ! Give thanks
at the remembrance of thy holiness! Yes, Holy One of
Israel I never will 1 forget it; never remember it, without
regarding it as the eternal source and the eternal security
of all that is gracious in Thy heart, glorious in Thy char¬
acter, wonderful in Thy works. Because Thou art infin¬
itely holy, Thou art infinitely good ; because Thou wilt
be eternally holy. Thou wilt be eternally good. I have
thought of Thy holiness with suspicion or hatred : so
foolish was I, that I have wished Thee less holy I This
was, in fact, wishing Thee to be my implacable and im¬
mortal enemy for ever ; wishing myself and Thee to be
eternally wretched. ^ * Thus I was as a beast before Thee !'
I have heard of Thee by the hearing of the ear, but now
mine eye seeth Thee ; wherefore I abhor myself and re^
pent in dust and ashes I '
I proceed now to show how holiness is the glory of di*
vine justice.
120
ON MANLY VIEWS
Every act of justice, on the part of God, is only the ex¬
ercise of holiness, however summary, severe, or final.
The same holiness originates and regulates all judgment,
which originated and regulates all mercy. As God does
not go a step farther in pardoning, than where He can be
holy in doing so, neither will He in punishing. He will
be gloriqus in holiness, both in saving and condemning.
It is, therefore, well for devils, and through eternity it will
be well for all the lost, that God is holy ; for, though His
being so must, in their case, for ever prevent mercy, it will
for ever prevent injustice too. Nothing unnecessary or
unreasonable ever has been, or ever will be, inflicted upon
them ; even when the flaming sword of justice waves in
all its terrors, and hell burns in all its fierceness : the
strokes and storms of wrath will be as much regulated by
holiness, as the rest and raptures of heaven wull be so.
God will be holy in all His ways and equally holy in
them all, whether Wrath walk through the bottomless pit,
or Love walk through the mansions of glory. Holiness
will preside, with the same equity, over suffering in hell,
as over bliss in heaven.
True, it may be said, but of what advantage will this
be to condemned spirits ? It will afford them no relief
from hell, or in hell. Certainly not : but it will afford
them no pretext for charging God with injustice; for He
will render unto every man only according to his works.
Mark, then, the glory of justice in punishing sin; punish¬
ment will be fiercest against the neglecters of the great
salvation : but such is the holiness of. God, that, although
provoked in the highest by that crime of crimes, in aveng¬
ing it He will indulge no un^ue anger, inflict no unreas¬
onable punishment. And yet, you say, the punishment
will be eternal ? Yes, that is the measure of its duration,
whatever be the degree of its fierceness. Eternal banish-
OF DIVINE HOLINESS
121
ment from His presence, is the very least curse that a Holy
God can inflict upon unholy beings; for if any think less
could avenge sin sufficiently, depend upon it, holiness
would not have fixed everlasting destruction. It was in
I
no passion, in no rash moment, that God decreed this as
the penalty of guilt. He was never more calm, collected,
deliberate, or just, than when He fixed this, as the sentence
of the law, and the sanction of the Gospel: and He will
be equally so when He executes that sentence. Let, there¬
fore, no trifler flatter himself with the hope of entire es¬
cape, or of enduring less than eternal misery, if he persist
in trifling with the gospel. It cannot be less, except God
become unholy ; and were He to become so, then ten
thousand times wo to thee, beyond the wo of hell ! for
then wouldstthou be in the hands of unprincipled omnip¬
otence, in the storms of infinite passions; the sport and
prey of eternal tyranny. Man ! if devils thought that
God would become unholy, they would unite in deprecat¬
ing the change ; and turn hell into a house of prayer, in
which the everlasting cry would be, King Eternal \ re¬
main eternally holy. Oh ! if I durst pour out the fulness
of my own thoughts, and tell you what an unholy God
must be, I could terrify you at the bare idea. Letting
loose the planets from their orbits and the suns of the uni¬
verse from their centres, until the material creation was
dashing to atoms, like icebergs in the shock of a polar
storm in the northern seas, would be nothing, to the letting
loose of infinite power and passion, from the magnetic
control of holiness. But on this point I promised to for¬
bear ; and I will, were it only in mercy to my own strain-
ed and startled imagination.
Having thus largely shown the light in which the Word
of God places the holiness of God, I solicit your attention
to the light in which the actual dispensations or works of
122
ON MANLY VIEWS
God, place his holiness. Now therç are three classes of
God's public measures, each of which manifests His im¬
maculate holiness. There are His retributive, redeeming,
and regenerating workç. I notice first, His acts of judi-
9
cial retribution or punishment; and here it deserves spe¬
cial observation, that in Scripture, the holiness of Jehovah
is chiefly celebrated by saints and angels, whenever any
signal judgment is inflicted upon the wicked. It was just
after the overthrow of the Egyptians in the Red Sea, and
when they had sunk as lead in the mighty waters, that
Moses and Miriam sung, 'Who isa God like unto thee,
glorious in holiness.' It was while the temple shook, and
the judicial curse oí a seared conscience went forth upon
the Jews, that the Seraphim cried one to another, ' Holy,
holy, holy. Lord God of hosts, the whole earth is filled
with thy glory,' It was when the Lord said, ' my deter¬
mination is to gather the nations and assemble the king¬
doms, that I may pour out my indignation, even all my
fierce anger upon Jerusalem,' it was then, Zephaniah said,
•the just Lord is in the midst thereof; he will do no ini¬
quity.' It is when the apocalyptic trumpets and thu'^:ders
are sounding, and while the vials of wrath are pouring out
on the seat of the beast and of the false prophet, that all
who stand on the sea of glass, having the harps of God,
sing, 'just and true are thy ways thou king of saints, thou
only art holy.' Other instances might be quoted, but these
will show that the most signal acts of judgment are view¬
ed and adored by saints and angels, as glorious manifesta¬
tions of holiness. This fact agrees with, and confirms
the definition I gave of holiness, as being that principle of
the eternal mind, by which God necessarily loves whatever
is right, and hates whatever is wrong. Accordingly, in
punishing sin, God manifests his holiness, hy proving hi»
hatred of what is wrong.
OF DIVINE HOLINESS. 123
The most signal proof of this, in the case of creatnres,
was given in the final expulsion from Heaven, of the an¬
gels who kept not their first estate. From thrones of light
they were banished to chains of darkness; from being
«
morning stars amongst the sons of God, they were turned
into meteors of devouring fire. The place on the hills of
immortality, which knew them once, knows and will know
them no more for ever. They fell, to rise no more; were
cast out never to be taken in again. This act is usually
called one of awful sovereignty; and, when contrasted
with the treatment given to fallen man, it is the severity of
sovereignty ; but, viewed as it should be, by itself and in
itself, I deny that it is any thing of the kind. It was es¬
sentially and simply an act of perfect holiness ; having in
it, not an iota of more severity than the demerits of the
case absolutely demanded. Those who will not take the
trouble of thinking, may talk nonsense if they choose; and
resolve unpitied snflerings, into unmixed sovereignty ; it is
an easy process, a convenient abyss for burying difficulties
in. I believe in a God infinitely holy ; and, therefore, I
believe in no sovereignty, which is not as holy, in all its
principles and acts, as Jehovah himself. I must there¬
fore, either maintain that He is unholy, or that the punish¬
ment of fallen angels is the very least, in nature and de¬
gree, that a holy God could inflict, and yet maintain his
holiness untarnished. If He could have abated a fraction
of the penalty, or mitigated their curse, He would have
done it. He would have rejoiced to do it ! He would
have been more prompt to lessen the weight of His wrath
against sinning angels, than they could have been in ask¬
ing for a diminution of it. While, therefore, there is 30ve-
sovereignty in not providing a Savior for them, there is
nothing of the kind in their punishment ; that is as pcr-
9
124
ON MANLY TIBWa
fectly a holy act in its principle and character, as God's
approving and accepting the perfect work of his own Son.
There was no more passion in the way He treated them,
than there was partiality in the way he treated Christ.
, Away ! therefore, with all equivocating and evasion ; if
God be holy, nothing but holiness shines in the fale of fal¬
len angels. Accordingly, they themselves acknowledge
as much to Christ. 'Let us alone; art thou come to tor¬
ment us before our time? We know thee, who thou art,
thou Holy One of God.' Thus they insinuated no charge
of injustice or of sovereignty, as marking their doom ; but
merely asked for exemption from the fulness of their tor¬
ment, until the fulness of its time.
If you have been thinking, that all this is useless specu-
I
lation upon a point foreign to our interests, you will soon
find yourself in a mistake, I am not speculating, but speak¬
ing forth the words of truth and soberness, concerning the
holiness of God. And now mark ; there will be nothing
but holiness, in the act of punishing eternally all the wick¬
ed. There will be neither sovereignty nor undue severity
in their doom. It will be just what the interests and claims
of holiness require, and nothing more or less. Men may
talk of everlasting misery as horrid, and shocking, and
severe; and, if this be said only of the misery itself, it is
true ; ' for who amongst us can dwell with everlasting
burnings ? ' but, if such epithets implicate either the justice
or the goodness of God, they are as foolish as they are im¬
pious, unless it be a horrid and shocking thing that God
should be holy. He must become unholy, or the punish-
^ment of sin must be eternal. There is no other alterna¬
tive. But do you not see, that, if God became unholy, eter¬
nal misery would be equally sure then, as it is now ; because
an unholy being, would actually take delight in spread¬
ing and perpetuating misery. Wretched himself, he would
OF DIVINE HOLINESS.
125
go about as a roaring lion through the universe, seeking
whom he might devour ; regardless of character or circum¬
stances. The hell of the Bible is, therefore, the least of
the two evils. What, then, must the holiness of Jehovah
be, seeing that nothing less than everlasting destruction, is
its sentence against the unholy^ seeing this is the very
least punishment that God can inflict, and remain holy
himself? I know not how this view of the solemn fact may
affect your minds ; but, for my own part, I must say, that
since I saw it in this light, I dread it ten thousand times
more than ever I did ; for now, there is no mystery about
the principle on which God acts toward the unholy ; no
secret or sovereign reason for his severity ; no passion in
his procedure; but hell, in all its horrors, is simply the
natural consequence of holiness in the Creator, and un-
holiness in the creature. Here, my lips are shut, my rea¬
soning silenced for ever, because I see that God can do
nothing less, and remain holy. Whatever others do, there¬
fore, as for me, I will seek escape from the wrath to come
by that sacrifice which glorified the divine holiness in the
highest ; for in no other way is there any hope of escape.
I notice next—
The redeeming acts of God, as manifesting his immacu¬
late holiness. We have already seen that, if any thing be
morally certain, it is, that an unholy God would be unmer-
ciful ; because, were he unholy, he must be infinitely so
and therefore, could neither be just nor kind. Such a
Being could have no motive nor inclination to redeem from
guilt and impurity, sinful creatures : making them holy,
could never be a desirable end for him to pursue ; because,
were it accomplished, it would exalt their character above
his own, and thus inevitably, subject him to their abhor¬
rence. But, do you not see with equal clearness, that a
God of infinite purity, has powerful motives and glorious
126
ON MANLY VIEWS
reasons for purifying the unholy ? He is, indeed, under
no necessity or obligation to yield to the force of these mo¬
tives ; but, if He do so, he acts worthy of Himself, and
manifests supreme love to holiness : for, surely nothing
could be more in harmony with His essential character,
than to assimilate the unholy to His own beautiful image.
This is to multiply its reflections ; and in the case of man,
to magnify its glory ; because, to restore lost holiness, is a
more glorious act than to impart original holiness. The
very design of redeeming sinners is, therefore, a decisive
and illustrious proof of the divine holiness ; because the
effect of redemption will be entire and eternal conformity to
the divine image.
This perfection shines gloriously in the plan of redemp¬
tion ; that too, like the design of saving sinners, is a splen¬
did illustration of Jehovah's holiness ; for, as a plan, salva¬
tion is in harmony with every perfection of Godhead, and
every principle of the divine government. It provides not
only for their vindication and entire satisfaction, but also
for their eternal glory. Condescension made no stoop on
behalf of man, but upon the wings of holiness; mercy
took no step but on the ground of holiness ; wisdom no
measures, but on the maxims of holiness ; grace no part,
but on the principles of holiness : love no interest, but for
the glory of holiness. The first thing settled and secured
by the everlasting covenant, was, that God should be just:
just to all His perfections, just to all His principles, just to
all His eternal designs ; and, that secured. He could then
glorify himself in justifying the ungodly who believe in
Jesus. The difficulty of being a just God, once removed,
He became with all his heart a Savior. Thus the plan of
redemption proves His holiness. In like manner, the
means, and method of accomplishing salvation proves it.
The Son of God undertook to be the Mediator of the holy
covenant, and thus became the voluntary victim of holiness,
OF DIVINE HOLINESS*
127
in the room of the unholy. And never was this perfection
so awfully or illustriously displayed, as in the treatment of
Christ. Holiness took the Son from the bosom of the Fa*
ther—expelled Him from his seat upon the eternal throne
—vailed his divine nature in a human body—banished him
for thirty years into the deep obscurity of the humblest life,
and when all this was done, Holiness was only beginning
to punish its victim. It brought Him from obscurity, as
it had brought Him from the throne, and placed Him
under the law of God and the lash of men' and devils.
Now, holiness led Him about Judea, homeless, friendless,
destitute; and, though His heart was broken with re¬
proaches, kept Him laboring for the good of His implacable
enemies. Anon, holiness exiled Him into the wilderness
to be tempted of the devil, and exhausted by fasting : again,
it drew Him into public life and labor; and again thrust
Him back into the solitude of the garden, to drink the cup
of wrath. Now, it roused Him from his bloody trance;
and empannelled Him at a heathen tribunal ; anon, it tore
ofThis garments rolled in blood, and clothed Him in a robe
of mockery. Now, it laid His cross upon His shoulders
until he fainted; and anon, it nailed Him to the cross.
Now, it had hid the sun from His eyes ; and anon, hid the
light of His Father's countenance. Now, it made His
soul an offering for sin ; and anon, delivered His body to
the grave. Then, and not until then, did holiness finish
its avenging strokes upon the victim of law and justice.
And in all this awful and heart-rending process, there was
nothing but holiness proceeding against sin. All this was
the very least in kind, degree, and duration, that a holy
God could inflict, if sin was to be atoned for, and His own
character maintained. Not one feeling of cruelty, not an
iota of excess, not a shadow of unnecessary severity, mark*
ed any part of the Savior's sufferings. The Savior him*
128
ON MANLY VIEWS
self is the best judge of the wrath He underwent. Observe
how He explained it. Prophecy introduced Hiiïi saying,
'My God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken me? why
art thov, so far from helping me, and from, the words of
my roaring? O my God, I cry in the day-time, but Thou
hearest not: and in the night-season, and am not silent.
But thou art holy, O Thou that inhabitest the praises of
Israel.' * But Thou art holy ! ' Thus He was to acquit
His Father of all undue severity; and He did, when He
said, • The cup which my Father gave me, shall I not
drink it.' He did more than acquit Him: He approved
of, in the highest, all that He underwent. * My meat and
my drink is to do the will of Him that sent meJ Here
then, was the holiness of God : He made Him who knew
no sin, a sin offering for us, that we might be made the
righteousness of God in Him. ' Never surely,' says one,
' should we lose the impression of the holiness of God,
were we for a single instant to hear that piercing cry, ' I
am tormented in this flame ; ' but still more affecting was
the cry heard in Gethsemane, w^hen in bitterest anguish
of distress, the Son of God exclaimed, ' My soul is exceed¬
ing sorrowful even unto death.' Sinner ! if a holy God
could not spare His own holy Son, although his guilt was
only imputed, and not personal, he will not—he cannot,
spare thee, if thou remainest unholy : and. unholy thou wilt
remain, if thou flee not to Christ for salvation.
And now observe, how illustriously holiness was dis¬
played in the acceptance and reward of the Savior's finish¬
ed work. If God expressed his hatred of sin by the hu¬
miliation of His Son, by his exaltation he equally proved
his love of holiness. The same principle regulated His
proceedings in both cases.
While the Savior was fulfilling all righteousness (that
is, all holiness) by His obedience, the holy Father could
OF DIVINE HOLINESS
129
not conceal His love of this perfection : but exclaimed from
the excellent glory, ' This is my beloved Son in whom I am
Avell pleased.' When the Savior had become obedient unto
death, even the death of the cross, God highly exalted
Him—giving Him a name above every name. When
He had seated Him upon the throne of the universe,
amidst the homage and gratitude of all worlds, He explain¬
ed it thus: 'Thou lovedst righteousness and hatedst ini¬
quity, therefore God, even thy God, hath anointed thee
%
with the oil of gladness.' Thus holiness goes the very
same lengths in ïloving right, as in hating wrong. The
work of Christ, like the person of Christ, is perfectly holy;
and, therefore, it meets with the perfection of the Father's
delight. Yes; and sinners relying upon it for holy pur¬
poses, will find the same acceptance. While God remains
holy, the righteousness of His Son can never fail to justify,
in His sight, all who are clothed with it. Paul was sure
of this ; and, therefore, counted all things but loss, that he
might be found in Christ.
I now notice the regenerating and sanctifying opcratiojts
of God, as they illustrate His holiness.
The immediate and remote object of all divine opera¬
tions upon the heart of sinners, is, to renew them in righte¬
ousness and true holiness ; to restore that beauty of holi¬
ness, which was defaced by sin. And, what a countless
sum of these regenerating and sanctifying acts of the eter¬
nal Spirit, are going forward at this moment ! On what a
variety of character, conditions and minds, are they opera¬
ting? On the young and the old; the rich aid the poor ;
the learned and the illiterate; the savage and civilized;
and, in all and each, efiecting the same change—from sin
to holiness—from vice to virtute—from ungodliness to god¬
liness. WonderfuPSpirit! thou art felt at once and alike
here, and in all quarters of the globe : thou art ^
130
ON MANLY VIEWS
working on human hearts: and upon them all to implant
and promote holiness ! For this noble purpose, a perpet¬
ual act of omnipotence has been going on in souls, since
the fall—is going on now—and will go on, until time be
no more, and the church of the living God shall take her
place before the throne, without spot or blemish, holy as
God is holy. And is He not holy, who has thus appoint¬
ed and employed the Holy Ghost to create, carry on, and
perfect purity, in the souls of all the heirs of salvation! Is
he not holy, who conducts a special and perpetural Provi¬
dence, every act of which has for its direct object, to make
believers conformed to his own holiness ? If all things in
nature clearly show the eternal power and godhead; all
things in Grace and Providence, show to a certainty, that
God is glorious in holiness. Holy, holy, holy Lord God
of Hosts, the whole universe is full of thy glory !
I have been thus minute on the subject of the Divine
Holiness, because I never yet saw either a manly or a
happy Christian, amongst those who have but superficial
views ofthat glory of the Divine character.
/ #
r •
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