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A
KING'S CHAPEL, BOSTON,
JANUARY 1, 1809,
JÎEING THE SABBATH OF THE AUTHOR'S
ORDINATION,
AS ONE OP THE
MINISTERS OF THAT SOCIETY.
BY SAMUEL GARY.
BOSTON,
rniNTED BY /. BELCHER, STATE STREPT,
1809.
JEREMIAH xxiii. 28.
" he that hath my word, let him speak my word
faithfully."
That God has created us for immortality^
and that we ought to live like beings who are to live
forever, are truths, which all of you, my friends, will
assent to in a moment. There is something in hu¬
man nature, which trembles at the very thought of
eternal death ; something which disclaims the sen¬
timent with indignation, that faculties so noble must
be utterly destroyed, that powers of intellect so
comprehensive, so vigorous, so obviously formed for
endless improvement, should decay and perish with¬
out the hope of restoration ; that feelings which
are able to rise above the sphere of terrestrial enjoy¬
ments, and to become fervently devoted to the source
of all excellence, and to those purer pleasures which
flow without cessation or diminution from the foot
of his throne, will be suddenly extinguished, to re¬
vive no more. Let any person of thought and
feeling cast his eyes over the ever varying scenes of
human life ; observe the strange mixture v^hich is
every where visible of delight and vexation, of hope
and disappointment, of blessings aitd calamities ; re¬
mark how uniformly these' things accompany each
other, as if to convince us that in this world un¬
mixed felicity is an empty sound ;—let him con¬
sider well what is the real value pi what we term
pleasure, how airy ! how tratisient ! let him see
the wreath of honor withering, even when he who
has gained it is placing it on his brow ; the hand of
the sensualist palsied, even when the cup of joy has
reached his bps,; let him see the host of envious
and hateful passions hovering like demons around
the head of greatness, and marking it as their prey ;
let him observe how generally a long course of
prosperity is followed by misfortune, and is enjoyed
wi<b trembling, as the inhabitants of some countries
enjoy the mildness of a serene sky in fearful expec¬
tation of the tempest it forebodes;—let him weigh
these things well, and he will feel that the Christian
doctrine of immortal.ty is the most important truth
which a rational being can know ; that to learn the
wav which leads to a better world is the truest wis¬
dom, and to walk in it the truest felicity.
Proportionate to the importance of religion it¬
self, is the importance and necessity of the Christian
5
minisíry. If it is the object of every reasonable be¬
ing to live forever in a state of happiness ; and if it
is acknowledged that to pursue this object steadily
is really the most honorable of human employments,
then the establishment of a class of men whose pecu¬
liar business is to point out the means by which hap¬
piness maybe acquired, and to set before us every pos¬
sible motive and encouragement to use them, is to be
considered as an institution worthy of God himself,
and full of benefits to mankind. If in the confusion
of worldly business, and in the ardour of worldly
attachments, men, however willing to go right, are
constantly in danger of mistaking the road, are for¬
ever deviating from the course which terminates in
Heaven, into winding paths, where dangers terrify
and darkness bewilders them ; then they who stand
ready to take them by the hand and lead them back
to light, and hope, and safety, whose friendly voice
warns them of their danger, admonishes them of the
pitfalls which lie before them, consoles them when
they sink fainting to the earth, and animates them
to press forward in the race, and be crowned at the
goal ; are their truest friends, and their greatest
benefactors. The pastoral office was never intend¬
ed to be an engine of unjust power, or of reducing
the understandings or consciences of men to a state
of slavery. The ambassadors of a meek and lowly
Master are armed, with no weapons but those of
6
reason, are entitled to no authority but that of vir¬
tue. We claim for ourselves no superstitious ven¬
eration, as if members of a privileged order, or be¬
cause we are invested with an honorable office, but
we would be loved, because we have discharged the
duties of that office with sincerity and faithfulness,
\S e neither profess to be endowed with the super¬
natural gifts and wisdom of the apostles, nor with
their power of dictating opinions without the possi¬
bility of error ; hut we would be viewed as having
from our situation constant and forcible motives to
superior sanctity, and from our seclusion from
worldly employments, having better means of un¬
derstanding the oracles, which it is our duty to ex¬
plain. The influence we wish to possess over the
minds of our hearers, is the influence of truth, and
of a good example.
It has become my business on this interesting
occasion, to describe the character and duties of
the Christian minister ; and for this purpose I have
selected the injunction of the Supreme Being to his
prophets as a guide to our meditations " He that
hath my word, let him speak my word faithfully."
2o speak the ivord of God failhfullij may, perhaps,
in the strict sense of the expressions, relate solely to
the office of instruction. But I shall understand it
in a larger sense, as comprehending both precept
7
and example ; or to use the language of the liturgy
of the church, as containing the duty of " setting
forth and showing the word of God, both by our
preachins: Siad living." Under these two principal
divisions I shall arrange the duties of the faithful
minister.
I. We are to view him in his character of a
public instructer ; and that he may preach the
word of God faithfully, it is necessary that he should
understand it. The duty, therefore, of studying the
scriptures zealously, honesily, and devoutly; and of
making use of all the aid which is afforded by hu¬
man science and the researches of learned men, pre¬
sents itself at the beginning of his course. An opin¬
ion has unfortunately got into the world, founded
upon misconception of some of the doctrines of the
New-Testament, or not properly discriminating be¬
tween the world as it was in the days of the apos¬
tles, and as it is at present ; that any considerable
proficiency in what is termed the science of the¬
ology, is either useless, because all true Gospel
preachers are made certain of the truth by direct
inspiration ; or worse than useless, because it serves^
only to give men too great confidence in their own
powers, and to create an impression of the sufficien¬
cy of reason unfavorable, and perhaps destructive to
the influence of the spirit. It must be acknowledg-
9
I
ed that the existence of this opinion is a serious
evil ; for the consequence may be, and perhaps has
been, that men offer themselves as guides to Heaven,
who are utterly ignorant of the road, that ihet/un-
dertake to enlighten the understandings of others,
whose own minds are weakened by a thousand pre¬
judices, whose intellectual eye cannot pierce the
thick gloom, by which it is surrounded. It must
be obvious, tbat the disciples of such masters will
learn nothing but pernicious errors, will become
attached to dark, mysterious, and unintelligible doc¬
trines ; will be the bigoted advocates of a religion,
if religion it may be called, which no man can be¬
lieve, whose understanding is at all improved," and
in which the Author of reason is dishonored by the
contempt which is thrown upon his gift. Such
men are not likely to become the favorites of the
Deity, or to be rewarded by being made the sub¬
jects of that great miracle—supernatural illumina¬
tion. These blind leaders will guide their blind
charge into inevitable destruction.
It is certainly true that there are parts of the
bible obvious to the meanest capacity. All the pre¬
cepts which relate to our duty, all those doctrines
which form the basis of the christian religion, and
the knowledge of which is necessary to salvation ;
such, for instance, as that Jesus Christ is the Son
9
®f God, and the door and the guide to Heaven,
and the master whom all believers are bound to
obey ; that faith, repentance and obedience are the
conditions of immortal felicity; that there will be a
resurrection of the dea.l ; and that the obedient only
will be rewarded, and the disobedient punished in an¬
other life, are so plainly expressed, that the sincere,
though unlettered enquirer, cannot mistake them.
But something more than the knowledge of these
plain truths is expected from the Christian minister.
There certainly are many things in the sacred
writings, which are hard to be understood, but
which mm; he understood by minds that have been
strengthened by proper discipline, and enriched by
various and extensive knowledge. It should be re¬
membered that the bible, which we have in our
closets, and which is read in our churches, is a col¬
lection of distinct books, written originally by dif¬
ferent men, in different countries, at different times,
and in languages different from our own ; that they
contain allusions to the manners, customs, and opin¬
ions of the people to whom they are addressed, but
which can now be perfectly understood by those
only who are conversant in the literature of those
times ; that many of them were written on particu¬
lar occasions, adapted to particular circumstances,
intended to remove particular prejudices, or to
destroy particular doctrines ; all of which must be
2
la
familiar to the Christian preacher, or he is in dan¬
ger of mistaking the object, scope, course of reason¬
ing, or force of particular passages, in the writings
he professes to explain. It should be remembered,
also, that these books were written ages before the dis-
coxery of the art of printing; that the mode by which
they have been handed down to our time was that
of transcribing one manuscript copy from another;
that consequently errors of omission, alteration and
interpolation have crept into the text ; that an accu¬
rate knowledge of the expressions which were in fact
used by our Saviour and the apostles, can be obtain¬
ed only by a careful examination and comparison of
almost innumerable copies—and by the aid of hon¬
est and judicious criticism ; that even when the real
text is obtained, the true meaning of the terms is to
be sought by studying other books on other sub¬
jects, written in the same or kindred languages; by
comparing the parts of scripture with each other,
and with the whole ; by learning the various shades
of meaning admitted by the same expressions ; by
comprehending generally the genius or idiom of
the authors' dialect, the peculiarities of his style,
whether plain or figurative, concise or difiuse, ar¬
gumentative or pathetic ; and by being thoroughly
versed in the history natural, civil, and political, of
all the countries which are either the subject of
description, or the scene of narrative, of the birth
11
place of the writer.—My friends, when you remem¬
ber these things, can you believe it possible that
God will accept any violence of zeal as a substitute
for knowledge, or that he will consider those as the
faithful stewards of his word, who would either
bury it in a napkin, or suifer it forever to remain a
mystery for want of industry to explore its meaning ?
2. Another duty of him who would preach the
word of God faithfully, is to accustom himself to
habits of frequent and close meditation : Meditate
upon these things, says the apostle to Timothy, and
give thyself wholly to them. If we think for one
moment upon the nature and object of the minis¬
terial office, that our business is to persuade rational
beings to be rationally virtuous, and that we can
hope to influence their conduct only through the
medium of their understandings, this duty is mani¬
festly of the first importance. What good or last¬
ing effect can possibly be expected from passionate
eflfusions, uttered without previous arrangement,
thought and labor ? What hope that such rhapso¬
dies will be followed by the blessing of Heaven ?
What hope that they can drive iniquity from her
strong holds, pluck up inveterate and deep-rooted
prejudices, and make men pious and upright from
principle ? A minister, who has to address himself
to various tempers, and to minds variously improv-
12
ed, should study all those means by which the un¬
derstanding may be governed, and the will bent to¬
ward virtue ; he should know what motives operate
with most force, what kind of arguments are most
convincing. He should select topics for his dis¬
courses, which suggest a course of thinking adapt¬
ed to the peculiar relations, circumstances and feel¬
ings of his hearers ; his sentiments should be pro¬
perly arranged and methodized ; the scope of his
discourse should be clear and easily comprehended ;
his language strong and intelligible ; and his argu¬
ments disposed so skillfully as to strike the mind
with all their force. It is thus only that he can do
justice to his subject, or discharge his duty to Gob
with ßdelity ; and all this is the fruit of meditation.
The Christian minister is not only a teacher of
the word of Goo, but its advocate and defender.
He will find among the enemies of Christianity not
always men who are notorious for infamous vices,
who deny its authority because they dare not believe
it true, and whom it may be sufficient to answer in a
style of general invective and contempt ; but men
of fair characters and improved understandings,
whose doubts are honest, who have a right to be
convinced by cool reasoning. He will find others
of strong, comprehensive, artful, and penetrat'ng
minds, who have searched all the stores of human
Í3
learning for weapons to overthrow this impregnable
fortress ; who can produce arguments, which an
illiterate Christian cannot answer ; who may con¬
found him by a set of sophisms dexterously manag¬
ed, or overwhelm him in, a stream of splendid elo¬
quence. If therefore the soldier of Jesus Christ
would be faithful to his trust, he must make him¬
self, with the divine assistance, miglity in the scrip¬
tures ; he must strengthen the powers of his under¬
standing, and explore all the sources of argument
which were open to his adversary. He should be
able to meet him on his own ground. He should
learn to detect the fallacies of sophistry, and to seize
the arguments of his antagonist with a grasp so
nervous, that however slippery or flexible, however
fruitful in artifices, however ready to change their
shape, they cannot escape him. Now all this is the
fruit of meditation.
3. It is the duty of a faithful preacher, having
made himself master of the word of God, to preach
it in its purity, or to deliver no doctrines on the
authority of the Supreme Being, but such as he has
thought proper to reveal explicitly. The learned
teachers among the Jews, believing that the Mosaic
law was not of itself sufficiently intelligible, under¬
took to explain it by so many paraphrases, theories,
aüd interpretations, and insisted so strenuously upon
the importance of these commentariesj that the word
of God became, as our Saviour told them, of none
effect. This example, thus severely censured, should
teach all Christian ministers the extreme danger of
preaching with too much earnestness the peculiari¬
ties of human systems, even though the object of
these systems should be, as is sometimes alleged, to
make the word of God plain, or consistent with it¬
self. It must be acknowledged, for why should
we conceal imperfections so notorious, that there are
visible even among ourselves too many of those fail¬
ings which were reprobated in the expounders of
the Jewish law. Human nature and human pas¬
sions are the same in our age, as they were in the
infancy of our religion ; and whenever there exists
a strong and general influence over the mind, there
is always danger that these passions may employ it
in defence of error. It is perfectly natural that if
we believe ourselves to have discovered truth, we
should become strongly attached to the whole pro¬
cess of reasoning, by which our conclusions were
obtained ; and if this process should be the result of
our own ingenuity, or that of any man whom we par¬
ticularly regard, then the principle of self-love, or
pride, or perhaps conscience will prompt us to consi¬
der the system thus framed, of the utmost importance.
We are in danger, thetefore, of using our influence,
though possibly the intention may be innocent, in
15
drawing followers round our own standard^ in mak¬
ing slaves to our own sect, rather than disciples of
him who died for all men. There is so much labor
requisite to a right understanding of the word of
God, that a Christian minister has really no time to
become an expert sectarian. There is in the world
so miich immorality, against which it is our duty to
contend earnestly, that we really ought to suffer our
learned and pious brethren to amuse themselves with
their harmless speculations, without pouring curses
upon their heads, or thinking ourselves bound to
injure their reputation and ruin their influence. And
after all the danger is so obvious, that the sect to
which we are devoted may be the weak opinions of
a weak man, that it seems folly to claim for such a
sect exclusively the epithet Christian, or to suppose
that they only who believe it can inherit immor¬
tality.
Fourthly, to speak the word of God faithfully
it is necessary that the preacher should disclose the
whole of it to his hearers. I mean that he should
keep back nothing, which he believes necessary to
their improvement. He should conceal nothing
which he believes to be true, because it may be un¬
pleasant or unfashionable, or may give offence. He
who preaches against vice, must of course expect to
meet the frowns of the vicious. He who teaches re-
16
distance to the tyranny of the world, must expect
that the world will resist him. He ought not t®
satisfy himself with discussions of general topics,
with dispensing general censure or praise, but he
should honestly represent to his people the conse¬
quences of particular sins. His sermons should be
a mirror, from which errors of eyery description
should be reflected as they are. It is one very im¬
portant part of his duty to reprove voluntary faults
as they pass under his observation,to disclose the real
motives of bad actions, and to display the extreme de-
ceitfulness of the human heart. This may and ought
always to be done with gentleness, but it ought also
to be done faithfully, earnestly, and forcibly. It is
certainly a most unwelcome employment, but it
ought not to excite enmity; for without these friend¬
ly admonitions, thousands, ignorant of their danger,
would rush into ruin. We must not sufler those^
whom God has committed to our care, to perish in
their sins, by concealing necessary truth. We must
not see them loitering negligently on the edge of a
precipice, without telling them plainly that death
is before them.
II. We come in the last place to consider the
Christian preacher as a good man. It is expected
of us that we speak the word of God in the purity of
•ur lives. A faithful minister must govern him-
17
self. He must exhibit himself to his flock a living
example of the power of principle over the pas-
sions_, of religion over the love of the world, of
faith and hope over the vices of the age. He must
teach humility by his own unassuming demeanor, by
his willingness to be taught, and his readiness to
acknowledge and rectify his errors. He must teach
gentleness, by restraining his anger ; patience, by
submitting calmly to the will of heaven; forgiveness,
by heaping coals of fire upon the head of his ene¬
my. He must prove that the religion of his Master
is not a mere philosophical speculation, but a living
principle, which possesses the power of purifying
the heart, and guiding its best affections to the
throne of Goo.
Further, the Christian minister must prove his
sincerity by never sacrificing his principles to the
fear of man. Let him take care first to enlighten
his conscience, by extending his information, and
to keep it pure, by abstaining religiously from vol¬
untary offences ; and then let him obey his con¬
science with incorruptible fidelity. Let us never
degrade the dignity of our characters by wavering
and bending with every wind of popular opinion.
Never let us renounce our integrity, nor give our
uprightness to another. What if we are obliged
to encounter the scorn of the vicious ? What if the
.S
JS
storm of general hatred or general envy should burst
upon our heads ? If we can retire into ourselves,
and find that best of Heaven's blessings, a peaceful
^conscience, we may fear no evil. We are protected
by a shield, which nothing can penetrate ; by a for¬
tress, which never can be shaken ; by a power, whose
smile is happiness, whose loving-kindness is better
than life. We are placed as watchmen on the gates
of a city. We must speak, when we perceive the
enemy approaching. We must speak plainly, or
while we stand trembling and hesitating, our charge
may be lost. The ambassador of Jesus Christ is
unworthy of his office, if he dares not openly reveal
the message of his Master. He need not do this in
a tone of fierce defiance, or in a spirit of bitter
animosity, or in the language of a common brawler ;
but let him take care of cowardice and dishonesty,
for the threat of his Lord is dreadful—whosoever
is ashamed o f me and my words, of him will I also
he ashamed, when I come in the glory of my Father.
Finally, the minister of the gospel should prove
himself deeply interested in the cause of his Master
by imitating him in his active beneficence. That
zeal which expends itself in passionate language,
has nothing to do with religion. A Christian must
act his principles, and not merely talk about them.
We are not to content ourselves with professions of
19
benevolence, however ardent ; with pathetic ex¬
hortations, with going through an established course
of public duty. It is expected of us also, that we
should exert ourselves effectually in the cause of
humanity ; that we should seize every occasion,
which presents itself, of lessening thç number of
human calamities, of throwing some flowers and
some cheerfulness into the path of miser_). A min¬
ister should be always vigilant. He should watch
the fortunate moment, when his instructions may
sink into the heart ; the moment of happiness,
when the soul expands with gratitude, and the mo¬
ment of bitterness, when the sufferer lifts his eyes
and his hands to Heaven. He ought to remember
that he is entrusted with a treasure of consolations,
which he is to dispense freely to those who need
them ; and that there are moments when these
consolations are inestimable. Sometimes the scene
of his duty is the chamber of death. Sometimes he
is called to witness the various emotions, the doubts
and fears, the hopes and agitations, the remorse and
repentance of beings, from whose sight the world
and its pleasures are fading away ; sometimes to see
the last agonies of an expiring penitent, to hear the
last groans of a wretch, whose conscience has now
told him for the first time, that he has lived in vain.
Then the minister of Jesus is an angel of mercy.
Then it may be in his power to save a soul from
20
from everlasting death. How diligently should we
labour while day continues ; for a night, long and
cheerless, is speedily approaching ; our Master may
appear suddenly before us, and at an hour when we
think not, our probation in this world may termin¬
ate forever !
I have thus given some general, though very im¬
perfect outline of the duties of the pastoral office.
It is indeed a very difficult and responsible station ;
but it is not without its encouragements and its
pleasures. Its employments are such as may give
delight to the purest and the greatest minds. They
place us out of the reach of a thousand evils ; above
the power of the world, above the fear of death.
We are permitted to feel the most perfect of human
enjoyments, the pleasure of doing well, of having
added much to the good of others ; and if we con¬
tinue faithful unto death, angels will welcome us
into Heaven with songs of triumph, and crowns of
glory.
J\Iy brethren of this Religious Society...
In taking upon myself the obligations of a Christian
Minister, it is hardly necessary to assure you that I
feel their importance. The transaction, which has
now passed, oppresses my mind with awe and M'ith
solicitude. The engagements, into which we have
21
mutually entered^ may be followed by consequences
so vast, so infinitely important to us all, that the im¬
agination faints, while it endeavors to trace them.
But 1 know what I have done. I have spoken
much upon the duties of a minister, to convince
you that I have at least some distinct conception of
the nature of my employment ; that I do not come
among you utterly ignorant of what lies before me.
I know that the charge, which has been committed
to me, is great ; I know the difficulties which beset
my way—the tyranny and deceitfulness of the pas¬
sions, and the blasting influence of the temptations
of the world. I know the necessity of perpetual
caution, of constant efforts, of unwearied diligence,
and unyielding virtue. I tremble when I remember
the weakness of human nature. But I know, also,
that the honest though bumble efforts of no human
being, to promote the glory of his Maker, and to
dispense benefits to mankind, were ever made in
vain. My grace, says God, is sufficient for thee ;
my strength shall be made perfect in thy weakness.
He who exerts all his powers in the cause of his
Master, may depend upon his assistance to keep
him from falling. The same benignant being, who
smiled graciously upon the mite of a poor widow at
Jerusalem, will accept our offering of our talents,
however contemptible, if it is all we have.
22
I hold it a criinCj my friends^ to pledge myself at
this period of my life^ to defend the dogmas of any
human theological system. I acknowledge the in¬
fallibility of no being but Almighty God ; the
divine authority of no book but the Bible ; the ne¬
cessity of no other language to express articles of
faith and rules of duty, than that, which the Spirit
dictated to Christ and his Apostles. I will be the
slave of no man's creed ; because among all that end¬
less variety of opinions, which have rent the Church
asunder, there is not one, which is supported by
better authority than the name of some human, and
therefore erring teacher, I believe that every
Christian has a right to judge for himself, and to
reject what he proves to be absurd ; and that every
honest man, before he finally fixes upon his con¬
clusions, should be fairly convinced, by a regular
course of patient, devout, and laborious inquiry.
Otherwise what are we but servile imitators, devot¬
ed to men rather than to Christ, and blessed in
vain with rational powers, since we are either afraid
or ashained to use them ?—I mean no improper re¬
flections upon those, who think and act differently ;
but on this occasion it is proper for me to speak
explicitly.
Now, my brethren, I acknowledge myself un¬
qualified to decide peremptorily on questions,which
23
my aged and learned brethren in the ministry, after
spending their whole lives in attempting to solve,
have pronounced inexplicable. I am hut a learner,
a humble enquirer after truth. I may perhaps have
learnt some confused notion of the extent of my ig¬
norance. I may have advanced a little way from
«
the shore upon the sea of knowledge, hut it is only
far enough to perceive that the expanse before me
is absolutely boundless. Y ou will therefore expect
from me no detail of my speculative opinions. They
are really of too little consequence to be brought
forward at a period so interesting as the present.
You know that I am a Christian. I have preached
to you, and shall continue to preach, Jesus Christ
and his gospel. My aim, as your minister, will be
to lead you to Heaven, and not into the fields of
religious war ; to urge you to be followers of
Jesus, and not of Arminius, or Calvin, or Hop¬
kins ; to promote faith, hope, and charity, in your
hearts, and not to arm you with the weapons of
controversy.
This day begins a new year. The season al¬
ways brings with it many painful, as well as pleas¬
ing recollections. It is the period when a gpod
man reviews his life, looks into his heart, and cor¬
rects his errors. It is a period, which witnesses
many earnest expressions of penitence, and many
24
resolutions of future goodness. To us the day is
peculiarly solemn. It is a new and most important
epoch in our lives ; a day of new relations, of new
duties, and new attachments. It opens new means
of felicity, which it should be our earnest prayer
that we may faithfully improve ; it begins a con¬
nexion, which God grant may continue to eternity.
—You will permit me to say, that to me particular¬
ly the feelings of this day are deeply interesting.
The year, which is now gone forever, has carried
with it a man,* who was endeared to me by all the
ties of nature and of love ; the being, to whom I
owe not merely existence, but the knowledge of
those principles, which make existence worth pos¬
sessing. I have seen a servant of God walking
through life with his eye fixed in Heaven, and at
last finishing his course with joy. I have seen the
tears of those, to whom he devoted his best days and
his best faeulties. I know that his memory is bless¬
ed. God has cut off some of my hopes, but he has
given me a most animating example, and has not
left me to pursue my course unguided and alone.
My way will be made pleasant, and my cares reliev¬
ed by the voice of friendship. The kindness, with
• The Rev. Thomas Gary, Senior Pastor of the First Church in
Newburyport, who died on the 24th of November, 1808, in the 64th
year of his age.
25
which I have been already honored, and the warmth,
with which I am received as a companion in the
ministry, assure me that this friendship will be
destroyed only by the stroke of death. May God
grant that beyond the grave it may revive, and flour¬
ish, and be immortal, for the sake of his Son Jesus
Christ our Lord ; through whom to thee. Oh Al¬
mighty Father, who art the only living and true
God, be glory, and worship, and dominion, forever
and ever. Amen.
AT THE ORDINATION OF REV. SAMUEL CAHY,
KING'S CHAPEL, BOSTON, JAN. IST. 1809.
RIGHT HAND.
My dear brother, having declared you to be a
pastor of this church, I do now, in behalf of the
brethren, and at their particular request, give you
the right hand of affection : and I do, in their
name, promise you their friendship ; their joy in
your prosperity ; their sympathy in your afflictions ;
their candour and indulgence ; and all those offices
of zeal and love, which will advance your reputa¬
tion, and render your talents useful, and your sit¬
uation happy.
I again offer you my right hand, as a token of
my personal regard. I receive you into my bosom
as a brother ; and I request that you will give me
a place in your heart.
CHARGE
We have presented to you the hand of affec¬
tion : and you will now permit me, my brother,
to address you in a word of exhortation ; and whilst
I claim no superiority over you, to remind you of
what you already know, and of duties, which have
frequently been the subjects of your meditation.
The solemn charge, which St. Paul gives to his
sons Timothy and Titus, contains the most essen¬
tial rules, that can be offered to a young minister of
the gospel. As, however, it has often been, repeated
on similar occasions, 1 shall not, though it is more
important than any thing which I can suggest, go
over it again ; but I desire you to read it with at¬
tention, and to impress its precepts deeply on your
heart.
In entering on the duties of the ministry, you
have a responsible part to perform : You have to
instruct this people by your preaching, and to edify
them by your example.
charge.
3
I. Your aim in preaching the gospel should be,
to make those, who hear you, wiser, happier, and
better. Adopt therefore those modes, which will
contribute most effectually to these great ends.
Nourish the flock with substantial and salutary food.
Lead them into green pastures, and beside the still
waters ; and not to thirsty plains, and the barren
wilderness.
As the foundation of all solid improvement is laid
in the understanding, begin with addressing the
reason of your hearers. Convince them, by clear
and weighty arguments, of the truth of the impor¬
tant doctrines which you teach, and of the precepts
which you inculcate. When the understanding has
received a truth, it will be more easy for you to in¬
terest the heart. But the belief or practice, which
is built on nothing but enthusiasm or prejudice, has
no permanent basis : temptation and passion will
destroy it ; and leave the mind without any princi¬
ples or fixed rules of conduct.
I mean not to recommend to you a metaphysical
mode of preaching. Metaphysicks is not only a
sublime, but a useful, science ; and it communi¬
cates to us the knowledge of many propositions,
which are capable of complete demonstration. But
4 CHARGÉ.
these profound speculations are unintelligible to a
common auditoiy. They require the deep attention
of the closet : they must be read more than once,
and carefully examined ; for in passing through the
ear, they do not make a sufficient impression to be
comprehended. Consider your flock, not as philoso¬
phers, but as men and christians ; and deduce your
arguments, not in general from abstract reasoning,
but from the sacred ^criptures, illuminated with the
light of common sense.
, When you have enlightened the head, it will then
be proper for you to address and warm the heart. As
this, however, requires extraordinary powers, you
should, here exert all your talents. Raise your eyes
to heaven, and endeavour to acquire a glow and
energy of religious feelings. Enkindle in your
heart the flame of devotion, and the fire of charity.
Be interested in what you deliver ; for unless you
are, all attempts at pathos will be mere affectation,
and will chill the soul, and benum its affections.
Never make a show of more sensibility, than you
actually possess ; for if at any time, from ' bodily
indisposition, or that icy state of mind to which the
most fervent men are occasionally subject, your
own heart is cold, swelling words and boisterous
CHARGE. 5
emphasis will not warm the hearts of your hearers.
I know that you disapprove, and I do not recom¬
mend to you, the use of theatrical gestures ; for I
believe with you, that tricks of action are not necesT
sary to enforce the truths of the gospel. I do
not ask you to thunder, like a heathen orator ; to
bellow, like the leader of a political faction ; to rant,
like a preacher of enthusiasm : for your aim should
be, not to excite, but to restrain, the passions of
your auditors ; not to fill their breasts with frenzy
and fanaticism, but with meekness and moderation.
Let your eloquence, like the religion, which it is
intended to infuse, be gentle : let it not rush like
a torrent, but flow like a clear and majestick river.
You will acknowledge the propriety of these di¬
rections, if you consider what ought to be the prin¬
cipal subjects of your preaching. They are the
duties of piety and virtue. These duties are so
plain and evident, that a simplicity of style and
manner, and a softness of speech, will most readily
convey them to the bosoms of christians. I exhort
you to dwell frequently on these topicks : bring
them again and again before your hearers, undo-
every possible form and variety, thát you may ex^
cite their attention, and touch their hearts,
6 CHARGE.
But whenever you preach, remember that you are
a christian minister ; and that it is your business,
not merely to inculcate a system of morality, but
that morality which is taught in the gospel. En¬
force every duty on christian principles ; and de¬
duce your precepts from the sacred scriptures.
Preach Christ, and his religion, and not the doctrines
and commandments of men. The virtues, which
you enjoin, establish upon the authority of God.
This will lead you to discourse on his nature and
perfections ; subjects, which will furnish you with
many arguments for the practice of holiness. When¬
ever you speak to the people, consider yourself in
the presence of that adorable Being, whose attributes
are both sublime and lovely, and who is the fear,
the hope, the joy of the universe. This contem¬
plation will give elevation to your sentiments, and
dignity to your language.
Let the life and character of the great head of the
church also frequently constitute the subjects of
your preaching. Let him be the model which you
hold up, whenever you describe the perfect man :
propose his example for the emulation and encour¬
agement of the'béliever. In the church, which you
have now entered, particular days are appointed, to
charge^ 7
commemorate the remarkable circumstances of our
Saviour's mediation ; especially his birth, death, and
resurrection. On these occasions, you will have ah
opportunity of calling the attention of your hearers
to the sublime virtues of the Redeemer, and of de¬
scribing him as the object of the love and venera¬
tion of the christian. But on all other occasions, it
will not be easy for you to deliver a sermon, with¬
out reference to the authority and example of
Christ ; for you cannot name a duty, which he
has not both commanded and practised.
As preaching ought in general to be practical, I
would counsel you to study the constitution of the
human mind ; that you may be able to describe
the nature and properties , of actions, and to point
out the salutary fruits of virtue, and the deplorable
effects of sin. Never spare vice ; but boldly re-
büke it, under whatever form it may appear.
Whilst you console the good man, alarm the con¬
science of the impious. Show, that without holi¬
ness no man can ever see the Lord ; but that God
will retaliate on the heads of the wicked the .evil
deeds which they commit.
But though preaching ought generally to be prac¬
tical ; yet you should not forget that in religion.
d charge.
there are doctrines as well as duties. To the for¬
mer you ought sometimes to turn your attention.
Explain what is obscure ; and exhibit the doctrines
of the gospel in such a rational view, as that they
shall approve themselves to the common sense of
your hearers. As men, however, vary in their ideas
of doctrines, in treating them, you must of necessity
differ from the opinions of many christians : which
will render this part of your office in some measure
unpleasant ; in particular when you are obliged to
oppose established errours, which appear to you to
corrupt the purity of divine revelation. This op¬
position, as an honest man, you ought to make, and
will make ; but at the same time avoid, as much
as is possible, the thorpy paths of controversy.
The dispute about religion and the practice of it
seldom go together but the usual effect of po¬
lemical divinity, and of polemical preaching, is to
embitter the temper and harden the heart.
II. But however solid, eloquent, and instruct¬
ive your preaching may be, its effect will not be
great, unless you add the force of a good example.
It is absolutely necessary, my brother, that you
should be a man of piety and virtue. Be honest ;
CHARGE.
9
of consequence, a sincere believer of the religion,
which you profess. Be circumspect in your be-
haviour, pure in your conversation, temjierate, hum¬
ble, disinterested, and charitable. In the discharge
of your ministry, in particular, be an example to
the flock. Do your own duty faithfully ; and thus
encourage the people to discharge with fidelity the
several obligations, which lie upon them. Be the
son, the brother, the father of your parishioners.
They deserve, and will warmly return, your love.
Rejoice with them, when they rejoice ; and weep
with them, when they weep. Visit the sick ; com-
fort and relieve the poor ; dispel the doubts of the
penitent ; and pour the light of the gospel into the
darkened mind.
Though your profession exempts you from many
temptations ; yet there are some, to which it is pe¬
culiarly exposed. Know your danger, and care¬
fully guard your heart. The vices and follies, to
which clergymen are most prone, are indolence, van¬
ity, haughtiness, the love of popularity, and the love
of dommion, envy, flattery of the rich and great,
dishonest compliances with the prejudices of men,
and a bitter and uncharitable zeal. It will demand
the most heroick exertions, and the most ardent
10 CHARGE.
¡MRyers, to keep yourself entirely free from the con¬
tagion of these sins. But if you fill your heart
with devotion and love ; if you resolve to live, not
for yourself, but for the good of others, and for the
glory of God, you will succeed in the laborious at¬
tempt.
It is happy for you, that you are not only to be
connected with an affectionate church, but that you
are to dwell in a town, where the habits of so many
are virtuous ; where there is so little superstition and
&naticism, and so much of the spirit of benevolence
and genuine Christianity ; where the people are uni¬
versally attached to their pastors ; and where the
several clergymen, though they have adapted dis¬
similar creeds, live together like a family of bro¬
thers. In particular, the young ministers, with
whom you will have the longest intercourse, are not
only adorned with brilliant talents, but are blessed
with candid hearts. I advise you to cultivate their
IHendship. Conversation with them will be the
source of mutual improvement. Their learning,
taste, and eloquence will excite your emulation ; and
as I am persuaded that both you and they have
honourable minds, you will never be jealous of each
other's success. From the combined efibrts of you
charge. II
and them, I expect to see " the new era of preach'-
ing," At'hic'h has already commenced, become still
more splendid; an era, in which the ministers of
this town will rival the solidity of the English, and
the elegance of the French, divines.
Whilst you run with them a generous career, re¬
member that your country and posterity, as well as
this religious society, have demands on your talentsl
Whatever time therefore you can spare from the
duties of your office, devote to those literary pur-
suits, to which your taste inclines you, and in which
you can render yourself the most useful. As the
country is still too young, to give much encourage¬
ment to men of letters, the publick must be indebt-
ed to the spontaneous and unrewarded exertions of
the learned professions for improvements in the arts
and sciences. You will not be a worse preacher;
because you understand something beside divinity ;
for " there is a connexion between all the branches
of human knowledge and he, who is skilled irt
many, will most perfectly comprehend the art, to
which he is in particular devoted.
Not only endeavour to acquire a respectable liter¬
ary character, but be mindful also,-that you aré
the citizen of an extensive republick ; and that next
12 CHARGE.
to the interests of religion, the interests of your
country ought to be dear to your heart. I here
claim for you a right, which you possess in com¬
mon with others, the right of giving your vote at
elections, and your opinion on publick measures.
Under such a government as ours, the judgment of
the wise is always of use ; and an enlightened cler¬
gyman, if he is moderate and candid, will possess
his proper share of influence. With patriotick bold¬
ness, therefore, employ your hand, your tongue,
and, if needed, your pen, in fevour of good men
and upright measures ; but never so fer forget the
sanctity of your vocation, as to make the pulpit the
scene of party-politicks.
In prescribing to you so many duties and exer¬
tions, I leave you no leisure for sloth, dissipation,
and luxury ; no leisure for unprofitable visits, for
ungodly mirth and foolish jesting. No, my brother,
every moment of your time must be filled up with
some useful pursuit. Whilst you breathe, you
must think, and speak, and work ; but life is short,
and there will be rest enough in the grave.
You are still young ; but death will soon over¬
take you. This solemn truth furnishes you with
a strong motive to diligence. The world abounds
CHÂR&E. 13
with comforts, and even pleasures : it is a world,
every part of which displays the goodness of God.
But the present scene is not permanent : all its
joys are passing rapidly away ; and you look for
something more substantial. A recent affliction has
convinced you of the vanity of the world. The
loss of an amiable parent has inflicted a wound,
which still bleeds. In concluding my address to
you, what can I do better, than to exhort you to
imitate his pious and holy life ? Let the image of
his fidelity, his. sincerity, his candour, his ardent
love of truth, his kindness, his disinterestedness, and
the many other virtues, which adorned his character
as a man, and as a minister of the gospel, be ever
present in your mind ; and continue through life to
be a son, who shall do honour to the memory of so
excellent a father.
ADDRESS TO THE CHURCH.
My beloved brethren, I congratulate you on
the auspicious transactions of this day. Of the
minister, whom you have now introduced into of¬
fice, you know my opinion ; you know how highly
I approve his settlement among you : this is not the
time, nor the place, to praise him. The duty,
which you owe him, I pointed out in the morning ;
and if I had not, you perfectly understand it. The
kindness and generosity, with which you have al¬
ways treated me, are sure pledges to him of your
attention and friendship. During the period of
twenty years, no cause of disquiet has arisen ; no
circumstance has taken place, to interrupt the har¬
mony, which was so happily begun. With such an
affectionate people, my brother has reason to hope
that his life will be happy. And you, my friends,
on your part, have cause for pleasing expectations.
The youth and health of your new pastor promise
you many years of usefulness and love ; and long
ADDRESS.
15
after I am laid in the grave, the light of his instruc¬
tions will shed a kindly influence on your children.
Receive him therefore with respect and affection :
and let the spirit of mutual condescension still con¬
tinue to adorn your society. Endeavour to serve
and please each other ; live in peace ; and may the
God of love and peace be with you.
SERMON,
^ I
CHARGE, AND FELLOWSHIP,
AT THE
ORDINATION
OP
REV. MR. FROTHINGHAM.
A
SERMON,
DSI.ITEBSD AT
THE ORDINATION
OF THE BETEREHD
NATHANIEL LANGDON FROTHINGHAM, A. M-
FABTOB OF
FIRST CHURCH, BOSTON,
XT. KARÇH, KBCCCXr.
BY JOSEPH McKEAN, LL.D.
^OFESSOR llr HABVABD COEEEQE.
BOSTON,
FBDHTEH BT UUHBOE, FBANCIS & FARKEB,
Jfo, 4 Cornhill.
Í8i5.
AT a Meeting of the Brethren of the First Church and Society,
Sunday Evening, March 19, 1815, Voted, That the Deacons be a
Committee to wait on Rev. Dr. MeKean, Rev. Dr. Lathrop., and
Rev. Mr. Thacher, return them the thanks of this Society for
their very excellent and appropriate performances delivered on
Wednesday last, at the Ordination of Rev. Mr. Frothingham,
and request of them copies for the press.
Copy of Record,
James H. Foster, Clerk.
SERMON
JOÄ^"xîI. 20.
thb disciple whom jesus loved."
This exalted character may be attained by every dis¬
ciple of Jesus. If not in that elevated degree, in which
it belongs to the happy individual, to whom it was orig¬
inally appropriated ; yet, to an extent sufficient to excite
the strongest solicitude, and animate the most zealous,
diligent, and persevering efforts, each and all may,
through divine grace, gain this highest possible appella¬
tion. Compared with this, how empty are all worldly
titles and distinctions ! Contrasted with this crown
of glory," the chaplet of fame is worthless, the diadem
of power is vanity. The splendour of triumph fades,
and even the praise of intellectual superiority becomes
trivial, in the contemplation of such honours, as the un¬
erring heralds of inspiration have proclaimed, for the
faithful patriarch, and the endeared apostle : " The
friend of God " The disciple whom Jesus loved.''^
6
Important and useful as must ever be the considera¬
tions, which this theme suggests, they seem peculiarly
apposite to the present solemnities. Every christian
has a deep personal interest in the inquiry, what are
the qualities and acts, by which the favour and friend¬
ship of the blessed Redeemer may be secured. His
ministering servants, especially, may hope to derive from
it some valuable hints, respecting their official duty.
It would be pertinent, and might be instructive, to
take a leisure survey of this primitive evangelist ; to
examine his lovely features and harmonious propor¬
tions, as pourtrayed in the strong outlines, left by our
heaven taught masters. But even to delineate the most
striking characteristicks, to mark some of the discrim¬
inating excellencies, of this most distinguished among
mortals, would require more time, than can now be al¬
lowed. The attempt is therefore waved ; and without
endeavouring to describe the uncommon claims on af¬
fectionate regard, which appear in the life and writings
of him, who was thus emphatically denominated among
the chosen twelve ; the main purpose of this discourse
will be,
To consider the means, by which his succes-
sours may hope to secure like good report.
A few only, of the principal qualifications for the gospel
ministry, can be treated. Of these, the notice must
be very cursory ; and the views given will have some
respect to the special requisites, in churches organized
and circumstanced as is usual in our land.
Those,who possess right views of the nature and ends
of the sacred office, will appreciate the honour, which
7
the text exhibits, as the highest, that words can possi¬
bly bestow. Any applause of men ; any earthly gran¬
deur, however emblazoned by heraldry, or abounding
in wealth ; any dignities, civil, ecclesiastical, or litera¬
ry, however elevated or endowed, whatever riches or
precedence they secure ; will all be " reckoned not
worthy to be compared" with the name and reward of
disciples beloved of Jesus.
In order to securing these : First, His love must fill
and rule their hearty their soul, their life. It is not
enough, that, with the whole fraternity of believers, they
have a firm and unwavering faith in the Redeemer, in
all his glorious offices ; that they acknowledge Him as
" The Prophet of the Highest," as " a merciful
and faithful High Priest," as "a Prince and a Sav¬
iour." They should be actuated by such a pure kind,
and intense degree of affection, for him and his cause,
as to be willing, nay desirous, to " spend and be spent"
in his peculiar service. To this, exclusively, they feel
an ardent,irresistible desire, to consecrate all their powers
of body and mind. The more thoroughly they ascer¬
tain the nature of the work, the more exactly they count
the cost of the warfare, in which they wish to engage ;
the more are they satisfied with its conditions, and eager
to enter upon its duties. Fired with sacred solicitude,
to become instrumental of making known his name and
extending his honours ; all meaner ambition is trodden
in the dust. They cheerfully surrender all hopes, sac¬
rifice without one sigh, all prospects, of mere worldly
fame or fortune. The ministry is selected, as the choice
field of exertion, not because it is creditable, or easy.
8
or productive of a sure and quick harvest of competence,
and a large return of consideration and respect, from thé
best portion of the community. It is not entered chiefly
from an estimate of its general utility, as promoting the
most valuable interests of society ; as tending to the
security and dignity of civil government ; the adorning
and elevating of national character. Valuable, as these
incidental results may be ; auxiliary, in leading the
thoughts to the nature and effects of the institution of
an order of men, for publick religious instruction ;
(a provision, be it ever gratefully remembered, made
solely by our holy religion, one of its countless preroga¬
tives, in contrast with all schemes of human philoso¬
phy ;) yet these are not the principal, far less the whole
of their motives, for enlisting under the banners of the
cross.
" The love of Christ constraineth them " yea,
woe is unto them, if they preach not the go3pel."f
From this love, no person or thing can " separate them j
—neither death nor life, nor angels, nor principalities,
nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come
and from the devotedness, which this love originates and
confirms, nothing can divert them, short of absolute ne¬
cessity, or the most imperious sense of duty, to God
and to man. Their heart's whole desire and prayer is,
to know more and more of the " love of C hrist, which
passeth knowledge, and be filled with all the fullness
of God."§—" They preach Christ, not of envy and
strife, but of good will ; not of contention, but of
* 2 Ccr.v. 14, j- 1 Cor. ix.16. tlom. viü.38. SEphes.üi. 1?,
9
LOVE, knowing that they are set for the defence of
the gospel."t—Like their elder brother Paul, those
" things which were gain, will be counted loss, for
Christ : Yea, doubtless, and they count all things
but loss, for the excellency of the knowledge of
Christ Jesus their Lord."J Whatever talents, ac¬
quirements, or other instrument of influence, may be
made subservient to the great object, of advancing the
interests of the Saviour whom they love, will be cultiva¬
ted and sought, primarily as subsidiary thereto. All
that cannot, or will not, be subordinate to this, will be
neglected as indifferent, or contemned as vile. Nothing
will be suffered to interfere with this dominant affec¬
tion. It will be strengthened by every thing great in
science, and good in literature, and impel to a volunta¬
ry and entire dedication of the outward and inner man ;
of all they have or can do, to Him, who " loved the
church, and gave himself for it."§
This leads to the second principal requisite, in the
character of ministers, to constitute them " beloved of
Jesus Sincere^ fervent, operative loye to his church.
If they duly love the head, they will highly esteem and
dearly love the members. No one who belongs to
Christ, however humble or mean his condition, will be
despised or slighted. The flock will be valued, for the
sake of the Shepherd. Thrice was a primitive pastor in¬
terrogated by his risen Lord, " Lovest thou me ?" and
the thrice repeated test imposed, as the evidence that
this sincerely contrite and zealously devoted servant in-
t Phillip, i. 15—17. \ iii. 7, 8. § EpUes. v. 25.
10
deed " loved him, more than" all other objects, or,
perhaps, more than the rest of the disciples, was—" Feed
" my sheep ; feed my lambs." He knew all things ;
and knew that Peter loved Him. But emphatically to
impress on him, the way, in which his affection would
most acceptably be manifested ; and on all his followers,
the necessity of this grace ; and especially on those who
would devote themselves to his service, the method of
shewing that " not having seen they love him ;" the re¬
iterated inquiry and comment is given in the context.
In exact harmony with this, is the solemn charge impos¬
ed in his name by Paul, on the elders of Ephesus :
" Take heed unto yourselves, and to all the flock, over
which the Holy Ghost hath made you overseers, to
feed the church of God, which he hath purchased
with his own blood."* Feed them not of constraint,
merely as " a hireling, who careth not for them." Watch
over them, protect them, supply them, as a faithful
shepherd, serving a master meriting more than all his
service, possessing his undivided homage and allegiance.
Have a concern for them, provide for them, cherish
them ; even as a good father, the children of his solic¬
itude ; as a fond mother, the nursling of her heart.
Love to man is the second great commandment, and
is made an evidence of conformity with the first, to
which it is like. " Thou shalt love the Lord thy God
with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy
mind, and with all thy strength : And thou shalt love
thy neighbour as thyself." " He that loveth not his
* Acts xs. 28.
11
brother, whom he hath seen, how can he love God,
whom he hath not seen ?" Heathens, even in periods
of comparative moral refinement, contracted their sensi¬
bilities within the confines of family or region ; and
pronounced the rest of the world barbarians. Even the
Jews had so corrupted and perverted the law of their
ancient Prophet, as that some construed it to permit,
if not enjoin, hatred of enemies. Not so, hath our
divine lawgiver explained and enforced relative obliga¬
tions. He so loved men, while yet sinners, that he
came from heaven, and laid down his life for their
sakes. As he exhibited, so he commanded, universal
benevolence ; sincere goodwill towards all human be¬
ings, as children of the same fiither, partakers of a com¬
mon nature, fellow heirs of the same goodness-. Chris¬
tian love extends not to strangers only, but also to foes ;
prompting desires and endeavours, as far as any one's
means and opportunities allow, to do good to all, to
promote their reformation, improvement, happiness.
This extensive charity does not counteract, nor in any
degree interfere with, the more close and fond attach¬
ments, which grow out of the nearer relations, created
and matured by consanguinity, affection, friendship,
country, or religion. If it were necessary, and time al¬
lowed, this might be illustrated from the highest possi¬
ble examples. That of Jesus is exhibited in the subject
of this discourse, as well as in his filial duty to his
parents, in early years ; in his peculiar regard for his in¬
timate friends, Mary, Martha, and Lazarus ; in his con¬
cern for the city of Jerusalem, and his commiseration
in behalf of his fellow-countrymen, " according to the
12
flesh." His beloved disciple, who, as near as any mor¬
tal, approached the perfect standard of Christ ; while
he inculcated and cherished the largest benevolence,
indulged too in the strongest particular attachments.
Among his spiritual children, some were more dearly
beloved ; in the list of his valued converts, the " elect
lady" is enrolled with pre-eminence.
Be his siiccessours in this, as in all things, "followers
of him, even as he was of Christ." Deficiency in t'he
most generous philanthropy in them, of all men, is a
most aggravated violation of duty. On them, even if
possible more than on others, the love of souls is an es¬
sential obligation. It were monstrous, in a herald of
" the good tidings of great joy to all people," to in-
dulge the narrow and selfish propensities of our fallen
nature. Shall any venture to minister in the sanctuary
of mercy, who do not themselves partake largely of the
genuine and peculiar temper of the new dispensation ?
Their constant prayers, if after the model of their Lord,
are not only for their brethren, neighbours, associates ;
but for all " on earth." If the supplication rise not
from the altar of love, it must return void. Their alms,
with their prayers, are offered for the universal extension
of the kingdom, and prevalence of the will of God.
Their fervent wishes, their best exertions are, in every
practicable way, that the knowledge of God and of His
Son, may pervade every region, and bless every inhab¬
itant of the world. Their joy is unspeakable at the ef¬
forts which have been made, and are making, to give to
all iiations, in their own tongue, the word of life. In
every token of the approach of the " latter day glory,"
13
their rejoicing is in the full belief, that the promise is
sure ; and with lively hope, with unhesitating faith,
they look forward to the time, when " the grace of God
which bringeth salvation" shall be universally made
manifest ; and " all men shall honour the Son, even as
they honour the Father." While a zeal for these
great objects, with a lively participation in these sub¬
lime expectations, arises from a combined regard for
the glory of Jehovah, and the welfare of all his subjects ;
it will powerfully tend to increase, strengthen, purify
the love, in which it originates. Hence, and from many
like considerations, it follows, that even more than com¬
mon believers, are they culpable, who, being separated
for the administration of the word and ordinances of
Christianity, possess not the spirit of love, in its genuine
vigour and purity.
Together with this, as one necessary consequence and
sure expression of this, a minister, who would be belov¬
ed of Jesus, may, and ought to feel, in the third place, a
more intense affection for that portion^ of the great com¬
munity of fellow men and fellow christians, -which is ex¬
pressly committed to him. If, in the Providence of the
"Great Bishop of Souls," a station is assigned, involv¬
ing the care of all the churches within a considerable
jurisdiction, the charge will not be nominal. Over the
priests and congregations,he will take the oversight with
paternal regard ; and exercise it with affectionate diligence
and fideiity. Is a single association of believers, as
practised in our churches, committed to his watch and
nurture. This becomes to him " the household of
faith," for whom he is especially bound to seek and to do
14
good. This is his chief sphere of action and enjoyment.
He will realize that, as whoso ruleth not well his own,
provideth not for his own, violates the first and most sa¬
cred doniestiek ties ; so, in this corresponding connex¬
ion, no other services rendered to society, and even to
religion, can compensate for the neglect of those duties,
which result from the particular relation, he has volun¬
tarily contracted ; and which he has expressly or virtual¬
ly covenanted to perform. Believing that each can best
manifest his love for his Master, and for the church
universal, by cultivating the affections and fulfilling the
obligations which belong to that nearer alliance, he has
formed with some of its members ; to this fraternity,
with which he is leagued, he will feel and conduct as to
those, who are " bone of his bone and flesh of his flesh."
To the elders, kind and condescending, respectful to
their worth, patient to their demands, he will seek to de¬
rive benefit from their experience, and impart help to
their infirmities.
To the middle aged, frank and affectionate ; as one
concerned in all their anxieties, joys, hopes, pursuits ;
he will particularly, realize the claims which they, and
all, have on him as a religious instructer. It is his
privilege to be separated from ordinary labours, to the
study of the scriptures, and the acquisition of divine
knowledge. Of the treasures, he may thus be enabled
to accumulate, " what he has freely received, he will
freely give." In all the anxious inquiries, which any,
and especially his own people, make, respecting the
doctrines, duties, sanctions, of the law or the gospel, he
will cheerfully impart all the assistance in his power.
15
He will not repress, but encourage serious conversa¬
tion ; and all, from the highest to the lowest, will per¬
ceive that they may come to him, and find a confidential
friend, a faithful counsellor ; that his highest joy is to
be instrumental to the relief of their doubts, the strength¬
ening of their confidence. While he will explain the
great charter, as he in conscience believes to be the
true meaning of that Holy Spirit, by whose inspira¬
tion it was dictated, he will not seek to " lord it over
their faith, but to promote and share their joy."
The younger part of his spiritual family, he will eye
with emotions of liveliest interest. These are" in a
state to be moulded, in a great degree, to his will ; sus¬
ceptible of whatever impressions, he may seek to give.
If respectively spared to protracted years, they are not
only to be the active members of the church and the state,
they are to become the companions of his maturity, the
props of his decline. Their seniors probably owe, un¬
der God, their part in the common salvation, chiefly to
his predecessours ; he has but " comforted, stablished,
settled them," in the things they had before learned and
received ; these have been initiated in virtue and trained
to holiness, by the divine blessing on his unceasing
prayers and unwearied efforts, " that Christ may be
formed in them." Thus in each house of his people is
a deposit of some of his choicest hopes, his best riches ;
and the gratitude, which the attentions and kindnesses of
parents occasion, becomes more pure, while the regard
it fosters, is enhanced, because it can in some degree
discharge itself, in alluring and guiding their oflspring to
the imitation of Christ, who in our nature set them an
16
all-perfect example ; " growing in wisdom as in years, ^
and in favour with God and man."—With John, every
good pastor " has no greater joy, than to hear and know
that his beloved children walk in truth." For them and
theirs, he " wishes, above all things, that they may pros¬
per, and be in health, even as their souls do prosper."
Not only in the great congregation, does he notice their
good use of the means of grace ; but he desires, and as
far as consists with other engagements, he accomplishes
his desire, " to see them often, and speak face to face,
greeting them by name," with the salutations of un¬
feigned love.
These general influences of true pastoral aSection,
lead to a very few hints, on the more particular, and,
if possible, still more obligatory expressions of it, in
attention to the particular circumstances, as well as
to all classes, of the people of one's charge. Offices to
the sick and the mourning, are among the most essen¬
tial ; they are too, to a disciple in love with his office,
among the most interesting and improving ; and they
often bring an immediate and rich reward. In the
chamber of disease, by the bed of death, much may be
learned by all, who have to pass through this'^^great
change. A pastor, especially, has here one aid, to as¬
certaining the effects of past instructions and prayers ;
and may derive many inferences, in respect both to the
matter and manner of his future labours. If not deci¬
sive, it is at least indicative, what are the essential and
vital parts of religion, to find what gives to the parting
spirit most firmness, consolation, peace ; what furnishes
17
to the agonized surviver, most strength, and com¬
fort, and hope !
How impressive the sight, of a mind in full vigour,
beaming forth through an emaciated countenance, while
the frame is believed to be surely, if not rapidly sinking
to decay ; retaining perfect calmness, and demonstrating a
full, though humble, confidence in the mercy of God,
through Jesus Christ. The minister of reconcilia¬
tion receives the sincere and simple acknowledgment,
that he has rightly divided the word of truth, and
faithfully dispensed its promises and threatenings. Per¬
haps, particular times and places are recollected, at
which more than the customary measure of knowledge,
or excitement was produced. Possibly, reference is
made, to some one sermon or ordinance, when by a
clear explanation or powerful enforcement of the neces¬
sity and terms of pardon, genuine conviction took hold
on the soul ; and from which, by the grace of God, the
process of sanctification and holiness was begun, and
has gone on to perfection. It may be, that this effective
ministration was not one of those, on which the multi¬
tude most lavished applause for talents or ingenuity :
perhaps not one, which the preacher would prefer, as
among the happiest displays of his stores of under¬
standing or learning ; or by which, he would calculate
most to increase his theological or literary fame. But
how much more valuable, if it were well adapted, and
actually were blessed, to enlighten a darkened mind, to
soften a hard heart, to awaken a sleeping conscience ;
or, in the only adequate language, that of an inspiresl
3
18
apostle, " to convert a sinner from the erreur of his ways,
and save a soul from death !" So to write, so to preach,
so to pray ; oh ! how much more to be desired and
sought, than to obtain the plaudits of crowds, hanging on
the melody of periods ; than to secure the suffrage,
for elaborate argument, from the whole tribunal of let¬
ters.* Rather, infinitely rather, would the devoted ser-
vant of Jesus advance His interests, than build up his
own name ! If He be not honoured, all the great ends
are lost, for which the toil of preparatory studies was
endured, as well as the indefatigable attention to read¬
ing and meditation, which he continues to give, in
order to furnish the mind with the means of instruct¬
ing and edifying others.
Love to Christ, and love to His church, for His
sake, involving faith as their basis, and regard to the
glory of God, and the good of men, as their end, sum¬
marily include the chief requisites, to being beloved of
Him ; as in any of the duties of life, so especially in the
* No candid reader will construe this paragraph, or others
which express similar wishes, as intended to depreciate the val¬
ue of learning, to a minister. All science and literature may be
powerful auxiliaries, in his great work ; profound biblical know¬
ledge, in all its comprehension, cannot be too earnestly recom¬
mended and enjoined. It is not easy to find, within the same
short compass, this branch of duty more forcibly and eloquently
represented, than in a Sermon, at the ordination of Rev. Ephraim
Abbot, Oct. 1813, by Reverend Doctor Pearson. Distant may
the period be, when, for all the distinguished services, he has
rendered to learning and religion, delicacy shall no longer restrain
the acknowledgment of that gratitude, veneration, and affection
which numerous pupils delight to cherish.
19
most noble and delightful of all employments, the
gospel ministry. These principles will powerfully
operate on the whole course of thinking, inquiry, and
conduct. In retirement for devotion, in seclusion for
study, they exert a wholesome sway. The heart's de¬
sire and prayer is to Him who giveth wisdom and
strength, that He would enlighten and assist His ser¬
vants, so to preach, and so to live, " as to save them¬
selves and those who hear them." In the pulpit, at the
altar, by the fireside, in social intercourse, in publick
engagements, all will be made to correspond with the
object of attachment and desire.
This attachment is to the Lord Jesus Christ, and
His cause ; this desire is to advance this cause, and so
secure the approbation of God, and the friendship of
His Son. To these, all is made subservient ; for these,
as has been before said, all else is relinquished. No
merely temporal interests are suffered to engross that
energy, which aspires after higher and more substantial
glories. All endowments of nature, all acquisitions by
application, observation, reflection ; all gifts, faculties,
attainments, are offered, freely and without reserve, to the
Saviour and His church. All attachments and con¬
nexions are enjoyed, in reference to this. It may be
that country and kindred are left behind ; and that the wil¬
ling exile embarks on the waste of ocean, or traverses
the wilds of the desert, to engage new subjects to his
King. Or if, through {lie indulgence of providence,
his lot is cast amid the comforts of cultivated life, in a
refined and improved state of society, favoured not mere¬
ly by civilization, bu^ with arts and literature ; as the
20
former hardships had no terrours, so these comforts will
not prove snares to him. Against the temptations and
hazards, which both prosperity and adversity conceal, he
will be watchful and prayerful. Neglect will not em¬
bitter his temper ; flattery will not make him giddy.
Fear of censure will not terrify him ; love of distinc¬
tion will not corrupt him. The passions and strifes of
the present day will not bind him in their debasing
thraldom. " God forbid, that he should glory, save in
the cross of Jesus Christ !" Him, and Him crucified,
he will boldly, earnestly, perseveringly declare, as the
only foundation ; and resolve that, by divine assist¬
ance, to build on this and this alone, shall be the main
scope of his private studies and publick labours. Like
a great pattern of ministerial fidelity, he will be able to
say,whether called among the inquiring Athenians,or the
learned Ephesians, or the luxurious Corinthians, or the
polished Romans—" I am not ashamed of the gospel of
Christ."
What has been offered applies, more particularly, to
the ministers of Jesus Christ ; but by no means exclu¬
sively to them. If the great objects of their separation
to the sacred work be, as now briefly represented ;
those to whom they minister, may be led seriously to
inquire into the nature and kind of the attachment
they cherish towards them, and the estimate they form
of their services. The grand endeavour of their stud¬
ies, publick ministrations, and pastoral visits, is the
" godly edifying," the spiritual prosperity, of their
charge. As they are disposed and enabled to do this,
shoul4 they chiefly be valued and regarded. " Let it
21
man so account of them as the ministers of Christ, and
stewards of the mysteries of God." Consider the infi¬
nite value of the offers we impart, when " as ambassa-
dours of Christ, as though God did beseech you by us,
we pray you, in Christ's stead, be ye reconciled to God."
Commendable is the countenance and favour which,
throughout Our land, in this portion of it particularly,
and no where more generally, than in this metropolis,
and vicinity, is lavished on the ministers of religion.
God reward you, for all the kindness you have shewed
to the dead and to the living ! May all the attentions
of hospitality, all the gifts of bounty, all the respectful
notices, bestowed on those who labour in the gospel, be
rendered in tenfold blessings into your own bosoms Î
But however grateful we may be for these, these alone
will not content us, Thanks, for your patient hearing
of the word preached ! Thanks, for any commenda¬
tions you in sincerity give, to the ability and zeal with
which it is dispensed ! But we are comparatively little
indebted, however we may allow ourselves to be pleas¬
ed, unless our efforts are productive of higher benefit,
of more substantial advantages. " We preach not our¬
selves, but Christ Jesus the Lord, and ourselves your
servants for Jesus' sake." Receive the message we
bring, as the truth of God—so far forth as it is found
conformable to his word ; and indulge not that fastidi¬
ousness, in reference to the style of its communication,
which may defeat much of its intent, by directing atten¬
tion from thoughts, to words ; from the substance, to the
manner of a discourse. While you may admire in
ministers the same pDwers, and honour the same exer-
22
tions which elevate and endear others ; superadd a re¬
gard strictly religious, for their work's sake. Above
all, brethren pray for us, that we may be true to the
sovereign, whose commission we bear ; so " that having
preached to others, we may not be castaway."
To those who usually worship in this place, the occa¬
sion demands, and feeling prompts, a more particular
application. The expression of sincere congratulations,
on this joyous day, my christian friends, though super¬
fluous, cannot easily be repressed. In the bright pros¬
pects which open before you, none could take a livelier
interest than the speaker, had your choice embraced
one known only as an acquaintance, or even an utter
stranger. The establishment of him, whom you have
selected, among a church and people wholly unknown,
would excite inexpressible interest. What then must
be the demand on my feelings, when the twofold con¬
nexion with the people and pastor is considered ! Ac¬
cept then, again, the congratulations, not of customary
civility, not of common christian sympathy ; but of one
deeply concerned in your estate ; attached by many pe¬
culiar ties, of a social and religious kind ; and who
cherishes for you, the fondest solicitudes, next to those
retained for that church and people, among whom, in all
the ardour of young affection, it was my happy lot to
commence the pastoral relation ! In various trials and
sorrows, you have had my sincere condolence and ear¬
nest prayers. Now, in your blessings and hopes, you
will not doubt of my heartiest felicitations to you ; my
purest and most fervent thanksgivings to Him, who hath
granted you to " obtain gladness, and caused sorrow and
23
mourning to flee away." All that is felt, from this ar¬
rangement, it were not easy, if proper, it were not suita-
able if possible, here to express. Controlling, as far as
may be, personal feelings, allow the intimation of some
general grounds of rejoicing with you, on the union
about to be formed. This is not chiefly, because the
fame of this ancient church is acquiring new lustre ;
that now, will be revived and augmented the high dis¬
tinction it has had among its sisters, for a succession of
learned and pious divines, who yielded to none of their
contemporaries in talents, acquirements, theological or
general knowledge.* These causes of satisfaction,con-
siderable as they may be, would, if not combined with
others far more momentous, pass unheeded. Inter¬
ested, in the highest degree, in your religious welfare,
my chief delight on this day is, that you gain a kind
friend, as well as an able pastor ; one, who will love you,
and show that he loves you, by sharing in all your joys
and all your sorrows ; in all your anxieties and all your
comforts ; one, who will seek your best good, by
plainly, faithfully, sincerely, dispensing, and recom¬
mending both by precept and example," the things which
make for peace, and the things whereby one may edify
another."
Respected aged friends ! you have a staif, on which
to lean. Those godly and faithful men, who introduc¬
ed you into the communion of believers, sleep with
their fathers. You remember the fervent piety and ac¬
tive zeal which characterized Foxcroft, to the close
of his long, and honourable, and useful life. Of the
* See note at the end.
'24
eminently learned Chauncy, his illustrious colleague
and successour, you retain a still more lively impression.
Amid your tender recollections of them, and those who
came after them, be comforted, be thankful, that God
again is providing for you one, disposed to scatter the
flowers and fragrance of christian faith and hope, on the
downhill path of your declining years.
Sisters and Brethren in mature life, All Hail ! Your's
have been very uncommon religious privileges. With
the talents and accomplishments, the virtues and attain-
ments of Clarke, many of you shared the mellow fruits
of his venerable colleague. The former is still fresh in
the affectionate recollection of many, who unite in this
solemnity ; and to them as to you, dear is the kindred
soul who succeeded. Of the powers and acquirements,
the gifts and graces of Emerson, who has not heard
the praises f Never was a minister more devoted to his
people ;—seldom, if ever, was one more beloved. By
many friends, his loss is still severely felt ; and by you
all, his name will ever be associated with those of the
great and good men, whose history he has so ably deline¬
ated. To the incorruptible integrity, and ardent bold¬
ness for what he believed to be the truth, which charac¬
terized the elder, of his immediate predecessours ; he
united the urbanity and polish of manners, and gentle¬
ness of spirit, which gave the younger such a winning
charm. You had other hopes, most fair and flattering ;
but God destroyed them ! Your satisfaction in Abbot
was as brief, as it was promising. Again you form,
and have a right to form, the fondest calculations, tliat
you have a companion and helper in the kingdom of
^5
JeSüs. If your prayers are fulfilled, in the protracted
years of this pastor, you need have no doubt that all
your rational expectations will be answered and exceed¬
ed. But the providence unites with the word oí God to
warn you and us all, not to place too much reliance on any
creature comfort, however precious; To your minds
and my own, stern duty prompts the recalling of the
solemn caution of the sainted bard of Olney—
" Oh spare your idol—think hlra mortal still !"
Beloved Children, I give you joy ! Some of you
know the pleasures and benefits, of which most have
heard, and which all are hoiv to experience. Again
you will be led in company, by your spiritual guide,
into the green pastures and beside the still waters of
christian knowledge and virtue. May many, nay, all of
you rightly improve the blessings, this day brings; and
so remember it as an era in the present life, and bless
God for it through eternity.
And with you too, friend of my soul, sincerest con¬
gratulations mingle on this auspicious occasion. These
are paid, not principally that you are located in this
goodly city, and this conspicuous place, desirable and
happy as is such a location. The particular cure as¬
signed you J by the great Head of the church is believed
to be highly favourable to usefulness, and consequently
to your happiness. Here you will experience candouB
and kindness ; your services will be appreciated ac¬
cording to your fidelity. I am greatly deceived,, if you
may not here use " plainness of speech" ; if your
4
26
preaclùng will not be more and more valued, in propor-
tion to the sincerity, with meekness and gentleness,
with which you shall " declare the whole counsel of
God." You will not be required to " prophecy only
smooth things," but may,at the same time, "persuade
by the terrours, and beseech by the mercies of God."
Your views of christian doctrines, I believe to have
been formed with great impartiality, from the sacred
oracles ; uninfluenced by predeterminations to find sup¬
port for a particular system ; unbiassed by the author¬
ity of men, except as far as illustrative of the law and
the testimony, and consonant to their plain meaning and
intent, their general tenour and design. You will do
mè the justice to say, that I have not attempted to exert
any undue influence, if it had been in my power, over
your inquiries : at the same time not aflecting to feel
indiflerence, as to any and all the speculative opinions
which profess to be derived from the word of God ; nor
hesitating to avow, what articles are seriously believ¬
ed to be fundamental, and what of doubtful disputation.
For a long time our connexion has been rather that of
fellow students, than of pupil and teacher ; and now
let us here publickly and solemnly, renew pur mutual
pledge, diligently to seek for truth, at the fountain head,
the bible,—and honestly to abide by the result of the
inquiry, praying for each other, that God would guide
us to the pure knowledge, and aid us to the true obedi¬
ence of his word. If we may not in every particular
apprehend this alike, and why should we expect to ;
we can, we do, love as brothers ; and we will ever ex¬
tend our charity to all " who love our Lord Jesus
27
Christ in sincerity." Such was the delightful and im¬
proving union, which subsisted with one, whom if any
memento were needed, the present scene would place
even more than usually near to my mind. Eliot per¬
formed for me the office, now discharged at your re¬
quest ! If the occasion did not impressively recal him,
the theme of discoursing would ; for it is the same which
guided a feeble tribute, over his hallowed remains. I
love, I long have loved, even from an early period of
our intimacy, to multiply the bonds of association which
connect him and you, between whom I stood nearly mid¬
way in age, in my tenderest thoughts and strongest affec¬
tions. Would that I might hope, in any degree, to de¬
serve from you the fond regard, with which I clung to
him while living, and shall ever cherish his precious
memory ! Invaluable, as full, is the conyiction that you
will be all, if possible more than all, which he was to
me. May his mantle rest on you ! Long, prosperous,
and happy be your life ; pre-eminent with the dignity of
wisdom and the loveliness of virtue ; with exemplary
piety and extensive usefulness ! Serene and blissful
be its late close ! And may you at last receive the de¬
cisive recompense of " a disciple, whom Jesus
loved !"
\MEN.
CHARGE,
ÈY REV. JOHN LATHROP, D. B.
Deab Brothxk,
we acknowledge the governing providence of God
in the minute occurrences of life, so do we more espe¬
cially in the appointment of our place of abode, and in
the assignment of the duties and labours, in which we
are to be occupied.
We have a religious confidence, that the church and
christian society in this place, have been moved by the
Spirit of God, to invite you, our brother, to the work
of the ministry among them ; and that the same good
Spirit hath inclined you to accept the invitation.
The previous steps having been taken, and every
thing proper on the part of the society, and on your
part having been settled, tlie Ecclesiastical Council con¬
vened on this solemn occasion, have, by prayer, and the
imposition of hands, ordained you, Reverend Nathaniel
Langdon Frothingham, a minister of the gospel, and
Pastor of the First Church of Christ in Boston.
Your predecessors in the pastoral office in this church,
from the first, have been eminent.—They were burning
and shining lights : men of uncommon talents and
learning. With the five last of them, I had an acquaint¬
ance. The venerable and pious Foxcroft, and the
equally venerable and eminently learned Chaujícev
5
30
were fathers, in age and standing, when I was ordained
Pastor of the Second Church in this town. The two
next in succession, Clarke and Emersom, were my
brethren ; beloved, respected, and honoured, by the
people with whom they were connected, and by all who
knew them : for them, and for the much lamented Ab¬
bot, 3'our immediate predecessor, I had a cordial affec¬
tion. I felt the loss, when ont after another, in quick
succession, were taken away. I wept with their afflict¬
ed families, and with the bereaved congregation.
May V'our ministerial course, my dear brother, be
long and happy ! May you have many to be the seals
of your ministry, and the crown of your rejoicing in the
day of the Lord !
On this day you have been invested with an office,
which you never before held. You sustain a relation
and character, to you new and interesting. Henceforth
you will be known as a minister of the Prince of Peace.
As such you will be acknowledged by all christian
churches, not contracted in their opinions, or, as we
should think, unreasonably attached to certain modes
and forms, of worship and discipline. You have au*
thority to preach, and to administer the ordinances of
the New Testament : You have all the powers and
privileges, which the pastor of a church of Christ may
of right both claim and exercise.
But while we thus acknowledge you as a brother,
and our equal as to all the powers and privileges of a
christian minister, there may be propriety and use, in
calling your attention to the office, and character which
you sustain ; and particularly, to the charge which
31
Saint Paul gave to Timothy and Titus^ recorded in the
episdes which he wrote to those young ministers.
We in the first place call your attention to the office»
and to the character which you how sustain. The or¬
ders given to the apostles, when they were sent forth to
preach the everlasting gospel, are in effect given to you.
You have a commission to preach the gospel to every
creature. The gospel is the most generous proclamation
that ever was made. It is limited to no particular na¬
tion. The blessings of it are confined to no particular
sects^ or denominations. Although tlie advocates for
particular systems, and the framers of particular creeds,
may exclude from their communion all who cannot em-
brace their dogmas,, or subscribe their formulas, they
cannot bar the gate of heaven against the humble chris¬
tian, who repents of his faults, who loves the Saviour,
and endeavours to obey him.
As you act under the broad commission of the Son
of God, the proposals of peace which you make, will be
as extensive as those which were made by Jesus him¬
self. You will proclaim the gospel in his name, and
say, " Whosoever will, let him come and take thç;
water of life freelv."
«
But when you make this most generous and liberal
invitation, you will inculcate obedience, by all the mo¬
tives which can be drawn from the purity and rectitude
of the divine law ; from the mercy of God in appointing
a Saviour ; from the obedience, the sufferings and the
death of the Messiah ; from the hope of happiness, and
the dread of misery in a future world.
52
You will press upon all who expect to be saved, the
necessity of repentance towards God, and faith in our
Lord Jesus Christ. While you remind the children of
men of the great design on which the Son of God came
into the world, which was to bless mankind, you will
let them know that this blessing principally consisteth,
in turning them from their iniquities. He came to pu¬
rify unto himself a peculiar people, zealous of good
works.
As you take the commission which Jesus gave to his
apostles, as the commission under which you act, you
will be careful that you preach no other gospel than that
which Jesus and his apostles preached. You will sub¬
mit yourself wholly to the Son of God as your master ;
but you will not submit your conscience to the direction
of any man or any number of men, however they may
have been celebrated either in ancient or modem ages
of the church. When men tell you what Calvin said, or
what was said by Arminius ; what Athanasius said, or
what was said by Arius, you will answer by the only
inquiries proper for a minister of Jesus to make,—
" What saith the Lord ? what say the scriptures ?"
You will therefore listen to the words of Christ.
You will search the scriptures. You will give yourself
to reading, to meditation, and prayer. You will be
much more solicitous to find the meaning of the sacred
books, than to find the meaning of the decrees of an¬
cient councils ; or the meaning of the comments on
those decrees.
As an ambassador of Jesus Christ, your great concern
will be to understand his orders. If he has told you
33
what terms you may propose, as the condition of pardea
and acceptance, you will be concerned to propose his
terms, and his only.
As a steward of the mysteries of God, you will deliv¬
er his mysteries, the mystery of redeeming love, the
mystery of grace to sinners of all nations ; and not the
mysteries of schoolmen ; mysteries which the most
subtle disputants have not been able to explain.
As a scribe well instructed, well acquainted with the
sacred books, you will bring from the volumes of divine
truth, those doctrines and precepts, which are to be re¬
ceived and obeyed, by all who hope to be saved.
As a watchman, you will keep your eyes open, and
never fail to give warning, to all whom you see to be in
danger ; remembering, that if the wicked perish through
your neglect, their blood will be laid to your charge.
As a soldier of Jesus Christ, you will think no labour
too hard, no danger too great, to which you may be cal¬
led : You will accordingly endure hardness ; you will
fight the good fight, and suffer nothing to discourage
you ; so that you may obtain the approbation of your
master, and enter into rest. You will let none of those
things move you, which appear terrifick, neither will
you count your life dear to you, so that you finish your
course with joy, and the ministry which you have re¬
ceived of the Lord.—Finally,
" We charge 3'ou before God, and the Lord Jesus
Christ, who shall judge the quick and the dead at his ap¬
pearing and kingdom, preach the word, be instant in
season, and out of season ; reprove, rebuke, exhort with
all long suffering and doctrine. Holding fiist the faithful
34
word, as you have been taught, that you may be able to
convince the gainsayers. These things speak and ex¬
hort, and rebuke with all authority. Let no man de¬
spise thy youth.—And now may the God of Peace,
who brought again from the dead, our Lord Jesus, that
great Shepherd of the sheep, through the blood of the
everlasting covenant, make you perfect in every good
work to do his will ; working in you that which is
well pleasing in his sight, through Jesus Christ, to whom
be glory forever. Amen.
îlIGHT HAND OF FELLOWSHIP.
BY REV. Ö. C. THACHER.
the first account we have in the sacred records of
the right hand of fellowship, we find that it was given
by James and Peter and John. These venerable heads
of the then infant church, when Paul and Barnabas
were about departing from Jerusalem to renew their
perilous toils in the cause of Christ, gave to them this
interesting token of fraternity and affection. They
thought nothing more than this necessary. Although
engaged m the greatest enterprise ever undertaken by
men ; proposing to themselves nothing less than the
.ijegeneration of the world under the influence of the
gospel, and the grace of the spirit of God ; though
conscious too of all the dignity and authority of their
spiritual endowments ; still these holy men took only
this simple method of expressing their relation to their
younger brethren. They exacted from them no oath
of fidelity to the cause they had espoused. For what
need was there of an oath, where " honesty to honesty
was joined " and the holiness of the cause could re¬
ceive no additional sanctity by any protestations. They
made no assumption of superiority. For though seem-
36
iiig, as they truly were, the august pillars of the rising
church, they did not forget, that there was one com¬
mon Master to them all, and that all they were but
brethren. They demanded from the young evangelists
no renunciation of the freedom of judgment, no pledge
of conformity to their opinions on the questions, which
even then had begun to spring up in the church. For
they had not so soon forgotten that it was not their pro¬
vince to judge another man's servant, ordained to stand
or fall to his own Master, not to them. No. Nothing
of all this. Thej' were contented with simply putting
the right hand into the right hand of their brethren, as
an acknowledgment of perfect equality in the sacred of¬
fice ; as a token of confidence in their integrity, of sym¬
pathy in their feelings, wishes, purposes and cares ; as
a pledge of union and affection ; as a symbol of coop¬
eration and assistance in the great cause to which they
had mutually dedicated their lives.
There seems to me something inexpressibly affect¬
ing, and even sublime, in this simple transaction. For
the task of one, who was to preach the gospel then, we
are to remember, was not as ours is now. It was not to
go forth in a land where the ñame of Christ had long
been venerated, and the character of his ministers habit¬
ually honoured. But it was to encounter universal
scorn and contempt ; nay to meet evils and dangers of
a yet darker aspect. He who in those days undertook
to herald the gospel, must dismiss all thought of com¬
fort and repose ; and to dare all that his office might
require, it was sometimes necessary that he should dare
37
to die. The fellowship then, which they vowed to
each other, when they thus joined their hands, was a
fellowship, not in duties and cares only, but in toil and
dishonour ; a participation, not in affection merely, but
in suffering ;• an alliance in danger as well as in hope ;
a solemn communion, which they could not forget
might ere long be sealed in their blood.
Whçn the trials of the servants of Christ at the pre¬
sent day are considered, it must be confessed, that they
seem too light to be at all compared with those of these
original apostles of our faith. Yet still there are some
points of resemblance. Our duties are many of them
still the same ; and the cause we defend is always
equally sacred. The revolution of eighteen centuries
has not removed all obstacles to the progress of the
gospel. It has not changed the human heart, or altered
the tendencies of the human passions. Our path, how¬
ever pleasing it often is, is not every'where strewn with
flowers. We still have need of all each other's coun¬
sel and aid and sympathy and prayers. It is therefore
that our churches still preserve the same expressive
symbol of mutual fellowship, and meet, as we now do,
publickly to offer it. Receive then, my friend and
brother, the right hand, which our assembled churches
instruct me to offer you. Take it as a pledge of our
affection and confidence ; an offer of our friendship and
communion ; a proof of the joy and hoj^e with which
we regard the talents and virtues which you bring
among us. We thus welcome you to the labours and
cares, the consolations and joys of the christian minis-
38
try. We acknowledge you as an equal and a brother.
We ofFer our counsel and assistance to you in your ar-
duous duties ; and ask your light and aid to us in re¬
turn. The only strife, we trust, we can ever have with
you, will be in offices of love ; a generous emulation
in the best of all causes, the cause of pure Christianity ;
the cause of truth and virtue, and the best interests of
mankind in time and in eternity. -
Having thus given you the hand of affection, as a
pledge of the fellowship of the churches ; permit me
to offer it to you again, as a token of my personal re¬
gard. No one, I am sure, could give it you with more
heartfelt sincerity and pleasure than I do. Yet you and
I had both hoped, that this interesting office would
have been performed by one,* connected by still more
intimate ties, as the companion of your studies, as
well as the friendjaf your affections^ But he is called
to other honourable and not uncongenial cares ; and
the recollection of what the community have gained
forbids us too much to lament our personal loss. Since
however he is not here to assure you of the especial
communion of that sister church, with which yours has
been so long and so happily united—it will not be
thought improper that one, who owns a filial relation to
it, should take this office upon himself. I venture
then, in the name of the church with which I feel my¬
self so peculiarly connected, to assure you, it will re-
• Rev. Edward Everett, late Pastor of the Brattle Street Church, elect¬
ed Professor of Greek in the University of Cambridge.
39
joice in the continuance of that ancient amity, and that
reciprocation of kind offices, which has heretofore been
the source of so much mutual consolation and encour¬
agement.
What then remains for me, my brother, but to ex¬
press the best wishes and prayers of us all, for your
fidelity, your success, and your happiness. You will
not, I trust, think that my heart is not enough in unison
with the joy of this occasion, when I confess that I
cannot prevent a feeling of sadness from coming over
me, when I recollect how recently that spot, where you
stand, was occupied by a beloved friend—destined, as
I then fondly hoped, for a long career of usefulness and
honour. I allow myself to call up so melancholy an
image, not to depress you, my brother, but that it may
act as an admonition to you and myself, to employ with
diligence the opportunities of that existence, on which
our hold is so mysteriously frail and uncertain. May
you resemble him. Yes, my friend, it is a good wish
for you, when I say, may you imitate all the meek
graces and solid virtues of him who preceded you—
and may yours be a happier fate ! May your life be
long and serene—adorned by good deeds—followed by
the blessings of those whom you have led to virtue,
and prepared for heaven—and crowned at last with the
favour of him, who welcomes his faithful servants to joy
everlasting.
Allow me, my brethren and friends of this christian
congregation, to offer you the congratulations of your
sister churches on this auspicious occasion. We re-
40
joice in your joy, as we have sympathized with your
sorrows. We rejoice that the wounds, whidi have been
so repeatedly made, are at length so happily healed.
May you long—very long have occasion to rejcuce in the
life and virtues and usefulness of this new gift of heav¬
en. May your Pastor so preach, and you so hear, that
you may be blessed to each other on earth, and be pre¬
pared for the pure and exalted communion of God
and Christ, and the spirits of the just made perfect in
heaven Î
41
(Note, page 23.)
HISTORICAL NOTICES.
This ancient Congregational Church, the fourth in the Colony of Massa¬
chusetts, the first in the metropolis, was regularly imbodied, at Charlestown,
27 August, 1630 ¡ and on the same day. Reverend John Wils on, was in-
stalled as Teacher. I'be next year a removal, to the south side of the ri ver,
took place. In 1632, the first house of worship was erected, on the south
side of what is now " State Street" A lecture, on Thursdays, was estab¬
lished 1633, or '34 ; and has been continued, with some short interruption,
from special circumstances, to the present time. The second meetinghouse
was built, 1639, on what is now " Comhill Square and it was consumed,
in " the great fire of 1711," 2 October. The third house, familiarly remem¬
bered as " the Old Brick,'* on the site of the former, was begun 25 June,
1712 : and appropriated to religious worship, 3 May, 1713. This was tak¬
en down, 1808 ; and in the same year, Thursday, 21 July, the present house,
in " Chauncy Place, Summer-Street," was solemnly dedicated for Christian
worship.
Names, and order of succession, of the several Ministers of Finsx Church.
I. John Wilson, installed 23 Novem. 1632. Died 7 Aug.t667 .St.78.
II. John Cotton, „ 17 October, 1633. 23 Dec. 1652. 67.
m. John Norton, „ 23 July, 1656 5 Apr. 1663. 57.
IV. John Davenport, ,, 9 December, 1668. 11 Mar. 1670. 72.
V. James Allen, „ „ „ „ 22 Sept. 17i0. 73-
VI. John Oxenbridge, „ 10 April, 1670. 28 Dec. 1674. 65.
1. Joshua Moodey; assistant, 6 May, 1684, to 1692. 4 July, 1697. 65.
2. John Bailey, „ 17 July, 1693. 12 Dec. „ 53-
Vn. Benja. Wadsworth ,, 29 Nov. „ Removed* 16 June, 1725.
ordained 8 Sept 1696. Died 12 Mar. 1737. 67.
VIII. Thomas Bridge, installed 10 May, 1705. 26 Sept. 1715. 58,
IX. Thomas Foxcroft, ordained 20 Nov. 1717. 18 June, 1769. 72.
X. Char. Chauncey, D.D. „ 25 Oct. 1727. 10 Feb. 1787. 82.
XI. John Clarke, D.D. „ 8 July, 1778. 1 Apr. 1798. 42.
XII. William Emerson, inst 16 October, 1799. 12 May, 1811. 4?.
Xin. John Lovejoy Abbot, ord. 14 July, 1813. 17 Oct. 1814. 31,
XIV. Nathaniel Langdon Frothingham
A very valuable History of this church, by its twelfth Pastor, was publishr
ed after his decease. He had only completed it, to the year 1769. It forms,
with the author's two sermons, on leaving the old and entering the new
house of worship, 17 and 21 July, 1808 ; and sketches of Chauncy, Clark,
and Emerson, by other hands ; a volume of 256 pages, 8vo. Boston, 1812.
* To the Presidency of Harvajrd College.
42
ORDER OF EXERCISES,
At TflB oldinatios OF ReT. NaTBANIEE LaWODOW FKOTRIireHAM, A. M.
Fikst Church, Bostoh, xv. March, mdccoxt.
1. Psalm C. 1. m. Watts. « Denmark."
" Before Jehovah's awful throne,
Ye nations, bow with sacred joy," &c.
2. Prayer, by Rev Henry Ware, D. D. of Harvard College.
3. Psalm CXXXVI. I m. Watts. «' Southampton."
" Give to our God immortal praise !" &c.
And Anthem
" Awake up, m-y glory !" &c.
4. Sermon, by Rev. Joseph McKean, LL. D. of Harvard
College.
5. Renewal of the Call and of its acceptance.
6. Consecrating Prayer,by Rev.William E.Channing, A.M.
of Boston.
7. Charge, by Rev. John Lathrop, D. D. »
8. Fellowship, by Rev. S Cooper Thacher, A. M. »
9. Prayer, by Rev. Francis Parkman, A. M. „
10. Psalm LXXII. 1. m. Watts. " Old Hundred.*'
" JESUS shall reign, where'er the son,
" Does his successive journeys run."
11. Benediction, by the PASTOR.
The following hymns, composed for the occasion, which were
sung after the dinner prepared for the council, at Concert Hall)
are added agreeably to the wishes of many of them, and of the
society.
DIRGE.
ricy:V» Hymn.
NOT to greet the laurell'd train,
Crown'd in fame's fembattled plain ;
Not to swell the lui"bid tide
Of martial pomp or civic pride ;
43
^ot to deck a living brow,
Weave the tribute garland now ;
Purer feelings, holier fire.
Simpler, sadder strains inspire.
Memory ! linger on the worth.
That blest, before it left, the earth ;
Mourn with mingled grief and trust
Prophets low, and saints in dust.
Men of God ! ye toil no more :
The race is run, the confiict o'er :
Welcome, Spirits of the bless'd.
Welcome to your heavenly rest.
OCCASIOJ^dL
« Old Hundred."
OUR Saviour God ! to Thee we raise
Our hyms of gratitude and praise ;
Thy kindness calms our anxious fears ;
Thy mercy wipes away our tears.
When ^ope and expectation fail'd,
sAcd death o'er all our joys prevail'd ;
W|&*n every comfort seem'd to fly,
ThyV Watchful arm was ever nigh.
Goodness divine dispels the gloom.
That clos'd in mourning round the tomb s
The clouds that hover'd o'er our joys,
Retire and vanish at thy voice.
Then let the lyre, untun'd so long,
Resume again its thankful song ;
And sound its loudest notes of praise
To Thee, Great Author of our days.
X^ong may our Sun, that rose to-day,
Cheer and enlighten with its ray ;
Nor set, till evening's hours arise.
To call it hence to happier skiers.
O may it blessed beams impart.
To guide the mind, and warm the heart j
Illume life's dark and dangerous road.
And lead the soul to Heaven and-God.
OF
THE REV. WILLIAM NEWELL,
AS PASTOR OF THE
FIRST PARISH IN CAMBRIDGE,
MAY 19, 1830.
BY ALEXANDER YOUNG,
MimSTEK OF THE CHURCH ON CHURCH GREEN, BOSTON.
FCBCISHED BT RBqUBST.
CAMBRIDGE:
PUBLISHED BY HILLIAKD AND BROWN.
1830.
CAMBRIDGE :
E. W, METCAI.F AND COMPANY,
Printerg lo the University.
ADDRESS.
The solemn services are ended, by which our young broth¬
er has been inducted into the sacred oiBce, and invested with
the charge of the spiritual interests of this church and con¬
gregation. You, my friends, have a new pastor, and to him is
committed for the first time the care of a Christian flock. The
connexion thus formed is of a most serious and interesting na¬
ture ;—serious, from its permanency ; for it is a connexion which
death alone, or some event no less to he deplored, shall sever ;—
more serious, from the momentous consequences that may re¬
sult from the faithful or ill discharge of this holy trust, not
only to him and to each one of you, hut to the great cause of
Christian truth and virtue. It is interesting, from the new re¬
lations it involves, and the mutual duties it creates ;—interesting
to you^ who thus intrust to youthful hands the keeping of your
dearest interests, the direction of your public devotions, and
the moral and religious instruction of yourselves and your chil¬
dren ;—peculiarly interesting to your pastor. This day is to
him a most eventful one. It marks an incident in his life,
than which, long and diversified as that life may he, it can
bring with it none more important or affecting. He has been
set apart and ordained, according to the simple and impressive
rites adopted by our forefathers, to dispense unto you the
words of eternal life ; to be your religious teacher, your spiri¬
tual guide, your counsellor, your comforter, your friend. The
hands of venerable men, the fathers of our churches, have been
4
laid upon him, in imitation of patriarchal and apostolic usage,
whilst the fervent prayer of this worshipping assembly was of¬
fered up, invoking the blessing of Almighty God upon his
opening labors. The solemn Charge has urged upon him the
importance and obligation of his pastoral duties, and warned
and conjured him to be a faithful and devoted minister of Je¬
sus Christ. And lastly the Right Hand of Fellowship has
been extended to him, in behalf of his brethren, to welcome
him to all the cares, the trials, the satisfactions of the Christian
ministry. The vows of Heaven are now upon him, and hence¬
forth he is to put forth his arm to bear the ark of God.
Brethren, whilst we congratulate you and your minister on
the fulfilment of your mutual wishes by the transactions of this
day, and on the bright prospects that are opening before you,
you will permit us, in the spirit of Christian friendship, to re¬
mind you of the duties which this connexion implies and im¬
poses. The duties of your minister have been set before him
plainly and solemnly. Why should not yours ? What a deli¬
cate sense of propriety might prevent him from saying at any
time, the present occasion requires his brethren to say in his
behalf. Receive, then, this Address, not simply as my counsel,
but as the solemn and affectionate exhortation of the pastors
and delegates of these churches ; and let their collected wisdom
and experience, if they do not add weight and authority to my
words, at least obtain for them a favorable and candid hearing.
I would speak respectfully, but frankly. I would not be neg¬
ligent to stir up your pure minds by way of remembrance of
these things, though ye already know them, and, as I trust, are
well established in them. " I speak as to wise men ; judge ye
what I say."
It is unquestionably the duty of a Society, to give their con¬
stant and regular attendance on the public services of their
minister. This is a duty which they owe to him, to them¬
selves, and to their God. Divine Providence has favored
them with the means of moral and religious improvement in
the ministration of the word and ordinances of the Gospel.
5
They cannot, without incurring guilt and danger, neglect the
employment of these means. By the invitation which you
have given our brother to become your religious teacher, you
have entered into a tacit engagement to listen to his instruc¬
tions. Without such an implied assurance on your part, he
never would have consented to become your minister. He
supposes that you have settled him to preach, not to bare walls
and empty pews, but to yourselves and your assembled fami¬
lies. So be understands the contract, and you are aware that
he so understands it. Let it, then, be well pondered this day,
and henceforth remembered, that if it is his duty to be in the
church on every returning sabbath to preach, it is no less your
duty to be there to hear. So long as he is faithful to his trust,
your obligation continues in full force. You would complain
loudly, and justly too, were he ever to absent himself, without
adequate reason ; were you to come hither, and find the
church closed, and no provision made for the weekly worship.
Will he not have just as much right to complain of you, should
you ever needlessly absent yourselves from the stated services
of the Lord's day .i* Sickness is the only thing that will pre¬
vent him from discharging regularly his official duties ; nay,
he will sometimes appear in the pulpit sick in body and sick
at heart, when, were he to consult merely bis own convenience
or feelings, he would be in his chamber, or on his bed. Sick¬
ness, or some circumstance no less urgent, is the only thing
that you should permit to detain you from public worship.
Consider, too, my friends, that your pastor is a man, and
has all the sensibility of a man. Now what, I would ask, can
be more discouraging, or more wounding to bis feelings, than
the suspicion, which the sight of your vacant seats will inevi¬
tably create, that his labors are slighted or despised. I know
that the minister of Christ, who is conscious of diligence and
fidelity, should have firmness enough to go on, undisturbed by
this apparent neglect, adopting the language of the Apostle,
" None of these things move me." Yet how much would he be
cheered in his duty, how much would his labors be lightened, by
6
the belief, which your constant presence here will assuredly in¬
spire, that they are appreciated by the people of his charge.
I trust that none of you will ever give occasion to your minis¬
ter to complain of your neglect in this particular ; but that
each sabbath, as it brings round its still and quiet satisfactions,
will find you with your families gathered in this holy place.
Never forsake the assembling of yourselves together, as the
manner of some is, on the frivolous pretences that it is too cold
or too hot, too dusty or too damp, pretences that are seldom
alleged when the matter in hand is an excursion of pleasure, or
any secular engagement. O, say not. My garment is not new
enough ;—A cloud is rising, and the wind blows portentously ;
—I can worship at home, and have no need of instruction ;—
I have reserved my illness for to-day ;—I have concerns to ad¬
just, correspondents to answer, an entertainment to provide,
and friends to receive. Whoever can seriously proffer such
excuses as these, shows how little he regards the invitation of
the Saviour, who tells us, " Where two or three are gathered
together in my name, there am I in the midst of them."
And here, brethren, I would particularly warn you against
the practice, prevalent in some places, especially in our cities
and larger towns, of deserting the afternoon services of the
Lord's day. By many this is done only occasionally, and, as
I believe, inconsiderately. It is done deliberately and habitu¬
ally by others in the higher walks of life, who ought to set a
better example. The custom is growing with our increasmg
wealth and luxury, and is every day becoming more fashiona¬
ble, till at length, I fear, it will be considered vulgar to go to
church in the afternoon, and worship God twice on the sab¬
bath. Before considerate men give in to this practice, it be¬
comes them to reflect on the consequences of its universal
prevalence. What is the tendency, what will be the ultimate
result of this habit} The entire desertion of our churches, the
desecration of the sabbath, and the overthrow of our religious
institutions. The sabbath, instead of being the quietest and
the holiest day in the week, will be the most disorderly and
7
licentious ; not merely a day of idleness and dissipation, but a
day of shameless profligacy and flagrant vice. Brethren, I
conjure you to pause before you give the sanction of your ex¬
ample to this partial and growing neglect of public worship, and
to the consequent violation of the Lord's day. You must re¬
sist it at its beginning. You must withstand the earliest, the
slightest encroachments on the due observance of this blessed
season of rest and worship. I am not the advocate of a Jew¬
ish preciseness. I do not recommend a pharisaical punctil¬
iousness on this subject. But I do earnestly insist upon a
sober, decent, proper regard for this important institution—the
most important and salutary in its influences on society, as I
conceive, of all our institutions.
But it is not sufficient, my friends, that you keep holy time,
and walk in company to the house of God. It is not enough
that you barely give your presence here. You should attend
the services of the sanctuary from right motives, and with
proper feelings. Worship and instruction, prayer, praise,
improvement, these are the objects that should draw you
hither, and engage your thoughts whilst here. And yet is it
not a lamentable fact that many come up to this holy place
from sabbath to sabbath, without any very distinct and
definite purpose í They come regularly to church as a mat¬
ter of course. It is a custom to which they have been habitu¬
ated from their youth. The hand of maternal piety first led
their infant steps to the sanctuary of God, and from that day
to this the sabbath finds their eyes and their thoughts turned
thitherwards. They now can give no other reason for attend¬
ing, than that they have always done it, and that all other re¬
spectable people do it. They would feel uncomfortable, if
they should discontinue their attendance ; it would appear so
singular to act differently from one's neighbours. Besides,
tbey expect to meet their friends and acquaintances there, and
in going and returning they have an excellent opportunity to
exchange polite salutations and friendly civilities.—In the
composition of our best motives there will often be found
8
some portion of alloy. Unknown to ourselves, some little
weakness, some unworthy feeling will creep in, to mar our
holiest purposes. We should strive to purify our motives, and
be brought to the Lord's house by those only which we should
not blush openly to avow.
Brethren, you should beware that you do not go to church
from a desire of entertainment, from a love of excitement, or
from a spirit of curiosity. It is reasonable, that a man should
wish to hear such discourses as are grounded on the religious
principles which he believes to be true and scriptural. It is
right, that he should desire to hear the truths of religion ex¬
plained with clearness, and its obligations urged with earnest¬
ness and power. It is natural, that he should wish to meet
with nothing in the language and style of the preacher that
shall be at variance with those forms of expression which he
has insensibly adopted from the community in which he dwells,
and which he has at last brought himself to believe to be the on¬
ly proper and correct vehicles of thought. It is not to be denied
that the style of preaching is not only affected by the national
character and manners, but is likewise tinged by the peculiari¬
ties of small communities. It varies with the degrees of re¬
finement, of intellectual advancement, and of moral culture.
Men of different modes of thinking, and in different states of
cultivation, require to be addressed in different ways on the
subject of religion, as on every other subject. The phlegmatic
good sense of the old English divines would have been thrown
away on their Gallican contemporaries, who demanded a fervid
and impassioned declamation. The rant and frenzy of a fa¬
natical field-preacher would disgust the members of a deliber¬
ative assembly. It is therefore both reasonable and necessary
that this diversity of cultivation and character he regarded.
But there is danger of the hearer's requiring too much,
and of the preacher's complying too far on this point. There
is danger of the preacher's conforming, beyond what reason and
religion permit, to the known wishes, prejudices, and tastes
of the congregation he addresses. He may come to them
9
with the " smooth and seducing words of man's wisdom," and,
in his honest purpose to consult their character and feelings,
may be nourishing a very improper spirit, and a very per¬
verse taste. We know that in the flourishing period of French
literature, the Parisian nobility, wit, and fashion listened to the
splendid oratory of their great preachers with precisely the
same emotion with which they witnessed the representation of
the finished productions of their tragedians ; attended the
church with the same motives and feelings with which they
frequented the theatre ; and returned, commenting alike on the
sermon and the play, and pronouncing on each a similar sen¬
tence of approval or condemnation. Every enlightened and
refined community is exposed to the same abuse of their privi¬
leges. And we should remember, my friends, that if we justly
challenge for ourselves a pre-eminence in these points above
other portions of our land, it is at the hazard of a like melan¬
choly perversion. The education and intellectual character of
our citizens call for a high and engaging style of pulpit address.
The standard is fixed in a great degree by those among us
most distinguished by their literary taste and attainments. The
spirit disseminates itself through the congregation. They gradr
ually acquire a relish for what they see universally admired by
the arbiters of fashion, and at last can be satisfied with noth¬
ing, be it doctrine, precept, or motive, that is not clothed in
the authorized garb, decked with the proper ornaments, and
pronounced in the manner prescribed.
There is a class of persons who are emphatically " the hear¬
ers of the word " ; who enter the church on the sabbath, as
they do the play-house or the concert-room on the week-day,
for the purpose of being excited and entertained, and whose
countenances indicate, at the close of the service, that they
have been sadly disappomted, if they have heard nothing novel,
paradoxical, or brilliant. They are like the Jews in the days
of Ezekiel, who "talked one with another at the doors of their
houses, and spoke every one to his brother, saying. Come, I
pray you, and hear what is the word that cometh from the
2
10
Lord " ; because the preaching of the prophet was to them
" as a very lovely song of one that had a pleasant voice."
These are the wanderers among the churches, expectants hy
turns in every porch and on every door-stone, ever following
in the train of the latest or the most fashionable preacher, re¬
ceiving the word with all readiness of mind, provided it only
proceeds from a new mouth, or is expressed a little differently
from the ordinary way. With such men, every discourse
which they hear is regarded as a mere matter of taste, a sub¬
ject for the exercise of their critical talents. Listen to the
analysis which one of them will give you of a condemned ser¬
mon, and you will hear that the division was incomplete, the
statement deficient, the illustration unsuitable, the expression
inelegant, the tone harsh, and the whole manner any thing hut
what it ought to he. Inquire whether the doctrine was scrip¬
tural, the sentiment correct, the reasoning conclusive, and he
will tell you, perhaps, that these were points which he did not
attend to. There may have been much of gospel truth clothed
in a plain and simple garb, and uttered in a natural and unpre¬
tending way ; hut then it did not arrest the attention of this
lover of paradoxes and metaphors, who was looking out per¬
petually for something marvellous, figurative, and pretty. There
may have been delivered many precepts and exhortations
profitable for godly edifying ; hut they were lost upon this re¬
fined auditor, who thought it very indiscreet and vastly ungen-
teel in the minister to preach upon such disagreeable and old-
fashioned topics as righteousness, repentance, and judgment to
come.
Men and brethren, it behooves those who exercise an influ¬
ence on public sentiment and taste, to give them a right direc¬
tion on this subject. It behooves us all, that we do not permit
a fastidious spirit of criticism to rob us insidiously of a useful
and manly exposition of the Gospel. It behooves the minister
of Christ to take heed that he afford no countenance nor nour¬
ishment to this unhallowed and pernicious spirit. He should
feel that that preacher deserts his duty, degrades his office.
11
desecrates the pulpit, who caters for the vitiated appetite of the
mere literary epicure. Let him remember that his is a sacred
and a responsible station.
" By him the violated law speaks out
Its thunders ; and by him, in strains as sweet
As angels use, the Gospel whispers peace."
The privileges of tlie sanctuary are too precious to be sport¬
ed with ; too fleeting to be neglected ; too holy to be profaned.
The preaching of the Gospel is not a fit subject for violent
declamation, for fanciful disquisition, for the subtilties of logic,
or for the prettinesses of rhetoric. The Christian preacher is
not to convert the house of God into a theatre for the display
of his erudition, his imagination, or his eloquence. He should
feel, that the powers he possesses were given him for high and
holy purposes, and that to them they should be sacredly and
exclusively devoted. The talent that God has granted him,
he may and should employ to make vice appear more odious,
virtue more lovely, piety more attractive, înd religion more
reasonable. But he may not employ it, he must not employ
it, to please the ear, to gratify the fancy, to exercise the inge¬
nuity, or to raise the admiration of his hearers. Let him be
plain, earnest, practical in his preaching. Let him tell his peo¬
ple in the most serious and tender manner, what the Scripture
saith, what the Lord requireth of them, what they are to do
to be saved, and he will not preach in vain. The beaming
countenance, the heaving bosom, the melting eye, the sup¬
pressed sob, will all tell that he has not preached in vain.
They will tell him that he has touched the delicate chord of
religious feeling in the human heart ; and the chord which
thus readily responds in an individual's breast, shall, by the
magic of sympathy, vibrate through the congregation.
Brethren, study to cultivate a spirit of candid attention and
of sympathy with your minister. There are some persons who
seem to think, that, when they have come to church, and seat¬
ed themselves comfortably in their pews, they have done their
part, all that can reasonably be required of them. They ex-
12
pect the preacher to perform all the rest ; to pray and worship
for them ; to banish their languor, awaken their interest, and
force the truths of the Gospel into their inattentive and wan¬
dering minds. Alas ! they little know the trials, the anxieties,
the weakness of their minister, or they would not require of
him so unreasonable, so impracticable a service. My friends,
he needs all your sympathy, your attention, your co-operation.
You must work with him ; you must feel for him ; or else his
preaching is vain, and your hearing is also vain.
It is the duty of a Society to allow their minister time for
the discharge of his several duties, particularly for the prepara¬
tion of his pulpit services. He is set for the defence and in¬
culcation of the Gospel, and he must have time to prepare
himself for his task. Christianity, in order to be thoroughly
understood in all its parts and relations, requires to be studied.
Its evidences and its records demand and deserve a minute
and patient investigation. They are capable of tasking the pro-
foundest intellect^ and such men as Newton, Grotius, and
Locke, had not the vanity to imagine that, by mere intuition,
they could grasp divine truth in all its vast extent. In this
portion of our country, from its first settlement, we have been
favored with a well-educated clergy. The ministers of the
Pilgrims were accomplished scholars, educated in the best
schools and universities of the old world, and well skilled in
all the learning and theology of the times.* The chief object
in the early establishment of our venerable University, an ob¬
ject which I trust will never be lost sight of amid the jejune
schemes and wild projects of modern empiricism, was to per¬
petuate the race of intelligent and pious pastors. " Christo
et Ecclesiä," is the motto on her seal. Long may it re¬
main there ! " After God had carried us safe to New-Eng¬
land," says one of our earliest writers, " and we had budded
our houses, provided necessaries for our livefihood, reared
• See Baylies' Memoir of Plymouth Colony, Vol. I. pp. 312—320, for some
interesting particulars of the literary and theological attainments of the first
settlers.
13
convenient places for God's worship, and settled the civil gov¬
ernment ; one of the next things we longed for and looked after
was to advance learning and perpetuate it to posterity ; dread¬
ing to leave an illiterate ministry to the churches, when our
present ministers shall lie in the dust." * At the present day
there prevails a greater attention than ever to this subject.
You demand an enlightened ministry. Your demand cannot
be resisted. They must become so. You provide liberally
for this object, establish a Divinity School, and endow profes¬
sorships. You accomplish your purpose ; you raise the stan¬
dard of theological attainments, and the character of your re¬
ligious teachers.—The young minister, after finishing his course
of preparatory studies, enters upon the active duties of his pro¬
fession. He is desirous of performing them thoroughly and
acceptably ; and of maintaining at the same time the character,
as a theologian and a scholar, which he must possess in this
community in order to be useful and respected. But he finds
little or no time for study. He finds that the demands upon
his time are so numerous and constant, as to allow barely space
enough to prepare for his sabbath services. The alternative
lies before him of sinking in his own estimation and in his abil¬
ity of being useful, or of encroaching upon the hours that
should be devoted to repose and recreation. The latter has
generally been preferred ; and, to adopt the remark of another,
" we have witnessed the terrible spectacle of men of the finest
genius perishing under the slow torture of unremitted mental
exertion."! Buckminster, Thacher, Abbot, these are some
of the victims.
I exhort you, then, my friends, not to be unreasonable in
your demands upon the time of your minister, especially dur¬
ing the first years of his settlement. Do not expect, that, with
so extensive a charge, he can be perpetually visiting every
family. Do not complain of neglect, if, from inadvertency or
* New-England's First Fruits, published in 1643.
t Professor Norton's Inaugural Discourse, p. 45.
9
14
occupation, he may omit, for a considerable interval, to visit
yours in particular. Be assured that nothing but a regard to
higher duties and more important engagements, will prevent
him from living on terras of the greatest intimacy with his peo¬
ple. He will delight in going from house to house to instil good
principles and deepen good impressions ; to sympathize with
you in your affliction, and to rejoice with you in your prosper¬
ity ; to impart consolation to the bereaved, and to direct the
thoughts of the sick and the dying to a better world. But do
not think that he is idle or unprofitably employed, when he is
not preaching or visiting your families. The study is his pe¬
culiar province. He is doing you as much good when he is
there, as when he is in the pulpit. He must at the proper
time be in each place, act in each, labor in each. Think you
that the preparation of the discourse is less important than the
delivery ? that you can have it without study and without
thought? You may have it ; but would you like it? Would
you not then complain, ay, and with a louder voice, and with
more reason too ?
The minister, as he is to act upon and influence men, must,
in some way or other, become acquainted with human nature—
its principles, passions, prejudices ; the power of motives, and
the indirect and imperceptible influence of circumstances ; the
omnipotence of trifles, sometimes, in determining men's opin¬
ions and resolutions ; the utter impotence of miracles in cases
but a little dissimilar. He must study man in books as well as
in the world ; and I know not but he may study him there as
well, and be as much profited by the former as by the latter.
I do not altogether acknowledge the justness of the vulgar pre¬
judice, that laborious study is incompatible with a knowledge
of the world. I do not approve of this invidious array of prac¬
tical men against bookish men. To be sure, you have had
examples of scholars, eminent ones too, who have talked and
acted as if they did not belong to this earth or to the species.
But they would have been singular and eccentric anywhere,
and in any pursuit. Study did not make them fools ; the
15
world would not have made them wise. A minister must have
time allowed him to study men in both provinces, in the school
of the world, and in the school of letters and philosophy. He
should avail himself not only of living, but of recorded expe¬
rience—" the gathered wisdom of a thousand years." There
goes out from it a divine virtue, a quickening energy. It not
only imparts, it elicits power. The Christian student must
never be so fond of the creations of his own genius as to de¬
spise the transmitted thoughts of the wisest men of past ages.
He must not be above inquiring what have been the opinions
of other men on important subjects. It is the height of vanity
and presumption to discard these aids, to disparage these at¬
tainments.
Finally, my friends, your minister will expect to enjoy the
confidence, the sympathy, the indulgence of his people. Im¬
mersed as he will be in many cares, surrounded with perplex¬
ities and trials, he may sometimes find it necessary to resort to
individuals of his flock for that counsel, encouragement, and
aid, which he may often have administered to them. He will
be supported and animated by knowing tliat you are aware of
the discouragements with which he has to contend, and that
you sympathize with him in his troubles. He will need your
indulgence to excuse any occasional deficiency in his duties,
and your candor to assign the true reasons of it, and to put
a friendly construction on all his actions. Never forget that
your minister is subject to the infirmities of our common na¬
ture. He may sometimes have feelings of depression or de¬
spondence which will render all exertion painful or impossible.
There may be times in which bodily indisposition may render
his public services languid and ineflicient. There may be
seasons when private griefs will weigh heavy on his heart, and
embitter his soul. In cases like these he will look to you, and
I know that he will not look in vain, for a considerate kindness
and an affectionate sympathy.
And now, brethren, we commend you to God and to the
word of his grace, which is able to build you up. May the
16
connexion this day formed, be a long, a useful, and a happy
one. May your pastor he a rich blessing to you and to your
children ; and be made happy by the belief that you esteem
him very highly in love for his work's sake. Endeavour, we
beseech you, to keep the unity of the spirit in the bond of
peace ; so that whether we come and see you, or else be ab¬
sent, we may hear of your afiairs, that ye stand fast in one
spirit, with one mind, striving together for the faith of the
Gospel.
A
SERMON,
PREACHED
AT THE ORDINATION
OP
THE REV. OEIVER STEARICS,
TO THE PASTORAL CARE
OF the
Seconïi ©onQirrQattonal Soctets
IN NORTHAMPTON,
NOV. 9, 1831.
BY CONVERS FRANCIS,
Ministet of the Congregational Society in Watertown.
JVOÄ THAMP TOjy.-
T. W. SHEPARD PRINTER.
1831.
ORDOÎATIOIV 8ER]?IO]¥.
JOHN vi, 63.
It is the Spirit that quickeneth ; the 6esh profiteth nothing ; the words that I
speak unto you, they are spirit, and they are life.
If one were required to describe, in a single sentence, the
nature of the religious dispensation established by Jesus,
he might best do it by saying, that Christianity is an interior
principle of moral life. It is never understood, and never
known, as it ought to be, until it presents itself to the mind
simply in this character, divested of the drapery which man
has thrown around it. Such did our Saviour declare it to be
in the passage I have just read. It is familiarly known to
you, that the views of his countrymen concerning that long
wished for personage, the Messiah, were of a false and
worldly character,—that they looked for one, who should
build up the fallen greatness and power of the chosen peo¬
ple, and no longer suffer the Roman eagle to spread his
wings over Mount Zion. Indeed their general habits of
thinking on religious subjects were exceedingly poor, nar¬
row, and low ;—for their minds dwelt in externals, and were
fast bound to the childish things of sense. It was in con¬
trast with such idle expectations, and such unworthy views,
that our Saviour, in my text, described the nature of his re¬
ligion, as a life-giving and soul-purifying power. He came,
not to minister to their vain and foolish hopes of national
greatness, but to open to their hearts an avenue for " the hope
4
full of immortality,"—not to flatter and encourage, but to
elevate and enlarge their low conceptions. His system was
to be no dead letter, no outward form, no call to the restless
spirits of a subjugated people to flock around his standard:
no, he was to found an empire over the heart and soul ; he
was to set up a moral reign over the spirit of man. " The
words that I speak unto you, they are spirit and they are
life."
From the spirit of this declaration, I have thought, may
be gathered some reflections not inappropriate to the present
occasion. When we are about to sanction, with the solem¬
nities of religion, the consecration of a brother to the cares
and the pleasures of ministerial duty, to introduce and to
welcome another laborer to the field, on which seeds are to
be sown and a harvest to be gathered that belong to eter¬
nity, we may profitably attend to our Saviour's declaration
concerning the nature of that religion, for the interests of
which the ministry was instituted. The subject, accord¬
ingly, to which I ask your attention, is the character of
Christianity as a purely internal and spiritual principle.
If we examine, with careful observation, the various forms
and modifications in which religion has appeared in the
world, we cannot fail to remark how much men have loved
the outward, and how little they have understood or cared
for the inward. I do not mean merely, that there has been
always a great passion for imposing ceremonies, but that in
general, all those expedients, by which the work of religion
is done abroad and out of the heart, have usually been in
high favor. Amidst the striking varieties of thought and
customs with regard to sacred subjects, there has ever been
one great and leading division,—the division into those who
have taken the exterior for every thing, and those who have
taken it for little or nothing,—the short-sighted, who are
satisfied and charmed with vain pomp and busy stir, and
the searching minds, who are too sober to be entranced by
modes, or forms, or bustle,—the ignorant, who dwell for-
5
ever in circumstances, and never penetrate beyond the shell
or the frame work in which spiritual truth is enclosed,—
and the enlightened, who look for it beyond all the avenues
and preparations men have contrived, who find it dwelling
apart and in simplicity, and go there to hold converse with
it,—in short, the captives of sense, and the freemen of
thought. Among all the confused and fluctuating notions
of mankind, you may always trace the line that has marked
out this radical distinction. Thus in the pagan world of
old, the worship of the gods, by means of showy ceremo¬
nies, was made imposing to overawe and gay to attract ;
fables and mysteries were gathered around sacred things,
that the community might have something tangible and stir¬
ring ; festivals created and gratified the passion for excite¬
ment, and omens and divinations furnished superstition with
the food she always craves. But all along, there was a
class, small in number indeed, who thought of these things
very much as enlightened men think of them now, who
stood aloof from these vanities on the mount of illumination,
who saw some of the pure forms of simple truth and loved
them, who communed with their own spirits, and found
there the living principle standing forth in its heavenly
beauty, who, as far as they went, belonged to the great
general order of true believers, worthy of a Christian's
praise, inasmuch as they had visions, however defective, of
the true and the spiritual. So likewise it was with the an¬
cient Hebrews. Their system was surrounded and guarded
by a cumbersome and unwieldy ritual ; it was in a great
degree bound up in forms and ordinances ; for when their
polity was instituted by their great lawgiver, they were at
that low stage of mental culture, in which a people always
need to have religion presented to them in connexion with
a long array of positive and outward observances ; the con¬
sequence was, that it frequently degenerated, as their own
history testifies, into a service of the hands and the lips,
into something which could be measured by times and quan-
6
titles, which was attached to days and shows, and required
certain acts to be performed in its honor, like the homage
paid to an Eastern prince. Still, there were among them
men who had nobler gifts and a better sight, who lifted the
veil and looked into the interior of divine things, who knew
that many of the prescriptions of the Mosaic institutions
were necessary only because the nation was not wise enough
to receive any thing better, and who rebuked indignantly
the gross abuses that sprung up among their people. A
similar distinction has existed under Christianity. At first,
it was proclaimed and received simply as a living principle
of moral and spiritual improvement ; and such it remained
for the most part in the days of its poverty and persecution.
But when it was brought forth out of tribulation into strength
and prosperity, when it came to stand even by the side of
the throne, and was patronised by the powerful, then it be¬
gan to be less regarded as a kingdom of righteousness with¬
in the soul ; then men began to disrelish its spiritual simpli¬
city, and to be desirous of building up outworks around it
for ornaments and for resting-places. The taste for exter¬
nals increased, till it produced abuses scarcely outdone by
those of paganism or Judaism. Saints were multiplied to
take the place of heathen deities ; a great machinery to
operate upon the senses and the passions was set in motion;
processions and pilgrimages, the crucifix and the frankin¬
cense, bowings and prostrations, made up the service of
God ; and from the beginning to the epd of the year, the
whole was a scene of parade, which men will call magnifi¬
cent or childish, according to the associations they may
have been accustomed to connect with it. Thus it was,
and is now, in the largest part of Europe under the old
church. Under the new, or Protestant church, the same
disposition is developed in other forms, not so obvious and
palpable, but belonging almost as much to the mere exte¬
rior. Instead of the Virgin Mary, and days of fasting and
feasting, and holy water, and relics of saints, and other kin-
7
dred things, we have different arrangements for providing
outward excitements ; we have for this purpose modes of
superstition, which, if they are less ludicrous, are more
stern and uncompromising than the old modes ; we have
the visions and pratings of fanaticism without the venerable
character in which it once clothed itself ; we have solemn
commotions and consecrated devices, which serve to keep
men in externals nearly as well as shows and pilgrimages
did in days of yore ; we have the traditions of other ages
and the speculations of heated or wandering minds to be
contended for under the name of doctrines ; we have the
spirit of proselytism and party to exercise and gratify the
energies of spiritual pride ; we have wide-reaching plans to
employ the restless spirits who are more busy than useful,
and more zealous than wise j we have arts for swelling the
influence and numbers of a sect, and the diseased craving
for the excitement of frequent meetings ; we have names to
be given out as watch-words and to be known by as badges,
and other like things, which sufiiciently indicate, that the
form is changed, rather than the thing, and that, if the dis¬
position to connect external bustle with religion be checked
in one direction, it will shoot forth and display itself in some
other direction. Yet there has always been, both in the
old church and in the new, a class of deeper thinkers and
better minds, who have loved the spirit far more than the
letter—who have gone beyond the outward form, and seen
and cherished the inward power. Among the Catholics,
this class was at times large and important ; and in some
instances, by a very natural reaction, they passed to the
opposite extreme, as in the strange reveries, the visionary
quietism, and the striving after an absorption in the pure
love of infinite beauty, which were set forth and inculcated
by Madame Guyon, and even by the pious, amiable, and
highly gifted Fenelon. Nor have Protestants escaped the
same mistake, from the same source, as we learn, among
other cases, from the history of that excellent community of
8
Christians called Friends, who have sometimes carried to
such excess thé favorite notion of an inward light and a
silent waiting for spiritual influences. Yet even these occa¬
sional extravagancies have served to indicate, only the more
strongly, that striving and longing for the hidden power, the
interior of religion, which has constituted the predominant
trait of one general class of minds, from the earliest ages of
the world.
Thus from the remotest period, and under every form of
sacred things, may be traced the great and deep distinction
between those who are busy upon the outside, and those
who penetrate to the inward spirit. Now Christianity was
the first and only system, which professed to build its king¬
dom wholly within the soul of man. Other systems have
imparted many pure instructions, and inculcated many good
precepts ; but they have fastened themselves essentially to
all the poor apparatus of forms, so that they could not be
separated from them, and live ; or they have linked them¬
selves to human power, so as to depend for their strength
on worldly plans and policy. So did not Christianity ; I
mean, so did it not, as it came from him who taught it. I
know that men have often and widely turned it aside from
this purely spiritual character ; but I speak of what it is in
its own nature, and as it was given to the world by Him
who sealed his teaching of it in his blood. As such, it is
purely an internal religion. It asks for no province but the
affections, principles, and motives of man,—for no throne
but his heart. Its aim is to purify and sweeten the foun¬
tains in the deep places of the soul, that refreshing influ¬
ences may thence go forth in a more hallowed life and more
praiseworthy deeds ; and when it has effected this, it has
effected its great and main purpose. In the connection
which it has with forms, it remains independent of them ;
for it prescribes but two rites, and those of the plainest and
simplest character which symbols can have. While it com¬
mits not the error of regarding man as a being to be always
9
wrapt in spiritual meditation, it dwells not among the poor
and corruptible things of sense. Therefore it stands free,
as no other system has ever done, from the slavery of times
and places. Whether it be at the fireside of domestic hap¬
piness, or in the wilderness where human foot has never
been before,—whether at the altar of the sanctuary or on
the bed of sickness,—in the busy circle of the world's cares
and occupations, or in the solitude of retirement, still the
Christian has, and still he carries, his religion with him, be¬
cause it belongs to the inner man, because it is an essential
part of his moral being, and because the words which Jesus
has spoken unto him are spirit and life.
This leading purpose of the Christian dispensation was
strikingly developed at its very origin, when its truths came
from the lips of the Great Teacher. It stood in strong con¬
trast with the prevalent speculations and prevalent feelings
of the day, insomuch that men wondered at it as a strange
thing, when they heard the instructions of the lowly Naza¬
reno. Jesus found his countrymen sufficiently religious, if
that venerable epithet may be used to express a blind devo¬
tion to all the puerile, though consecrated, usages of a worn
out system, a fond cleaving to all the prescriptions of tradi¬
tion, and those poor and narrow conceptions of Jehovah
which grew out of Jewish exclusiveness. But of the con¬
nexion of a moral purpose with religion, as its object, they
seem scarcely to have had a thought. Now I think it may
be made manifest, that Jesus labored primarily and chiefly,
as for the great work of his mission, to restore and strengthen
that bond between religion, as an institution, and the moral
effect, as an end, which had for a long time been either
entirely rent asunder, or loosened so as to have no efficacy,
that he sought mainly to rekindle the extinguished moral
feeling of his nation, and to set before them the great truths
relating to God and sacred things in such a manner as to
make those truths instinct with a moral vitality,—and that
when we contemplate his life on earth, from the time when
2
10
the spirit of truth and purity rested on him under the sym¬
bol of the peaceful dove, to the solemn hour when the ex¬
clamation—" it is finished"—closed the great work of suf¬
fering benevolence, we see one leading design pervading
the whole,—the design of effecting in and for man that sal¬
vation which consists in a fitness for the appropriate happi¬
ness of a spiritual being.
When we say that such is the character of our Master's
religion, we state no trifling proposition. It is a truth of
vast importance, written on the very front of the Christian
system, that its design is a moral design. It is a fact, which
should lie at the bottom of all our thoughts on this subject,
that the religion we profess is one which never reaches its
object, till it cultivates and improves the spiritual principle
in man, till it makes us happy by making us good, till it
brings us to act on the unshaken conviction that the path of
duty and the path to heaven are always the same. Every
thing short of this is just so far short of Christianity ; every
thing, that accomplishes this, just so far accomplishes the
purpose of Christianity. This is a point of view in which I
love to contemplate religion. I love to consider it as the
kingdom within, as the healthy life of the inner man, the
quiet, but strong power, producing effects that, like the dew
of heaven, lie longest and most plentifully in the shade. It
is the education of the heart for eternity; and in this char¬
acter it has a nobler importance, a more precious value than
in any other ; in this character it is far more worthy of our
love, than it can be under any of those forms in which it is
exhibited by misguided zeal, or the love of parade, that
men may gaze after it, and shout—lo here ! or, lo there !
There is an undying spirit in man, and Christianity pro¬
poses to open, enlarge, and purify that spirit, to develope
all its capacity for goodness and happiness, and to lift it up
towards the Everlasting Source from which it first came.
In this stage of man's being, the soul has a warfare with the
influences that would drag her down to low and corruptible
11
things, with temptation in all its strength, with sin in all its
forms. Christianity proposes to preside over this warfare,
to give the victory to the better part, to chain down the
sensual and animal nature to the office which alone God
designed it to execute, to encourage and strengthen every
budding forth of virtue, however feeble at first, to beat down
the assaults of passion, and bridle head-long propensities, to
lift the load of anxiety and despondence from the free spirit,
that it may go on unshackled in its path of immortality, and
be glorified. Here is the work which our religion wishes
and claims to do ; here is its peculiar province ; here is its
interior dwelling ; here is its hidden beauty, and its secret
power. Shall we take in exchange for this the flourish and
bustle, which are ever abroad, glittering, and talking largely,
and working on the outside, but holding no companionship
with man's moral nature, having no treasures within to be¬
stow, which the world cannot give and cannot take away
No ; this would indeed be to throw away the precious jewel
that we might keep the gaudy casket—to feed upon the
husk and reject the bread. If we consider the matter aright,
there is great sublimity in this internal, quiet, spirit-search¬
ing character of Christianity. It stands in analogy with the
doings of God in the world of nature. There the most
mighty and stupendous effects are produced in ways which
man sees not and hears not ; you mark the fresh beauty of
spring, the rich and various splendor of summer, and the
ripe fruits of autumn ; but you see not the vast and secret
agency which produced them ; all is peaceful and quiet
around you ; there is no commotion, no noise ; yet the
great results never fail in their course. So it is with our
Saviour's spiritual kingdom ; as he himself declared, it com-
eth not with observation ; yet it produces effects which shall
last and grow stronger, when every work of man, every
monument of his pride or power, shall have gone down to
dust and ashes. When we consider that this inward, silent
power of the Gospel, which man sees not, is working in the
12
depths of the soul to bring forth fruit for eternity ; when we
think of the noiseless cause and the mighty results, we can¬
not measure the moral grandeur which bursts upon our view.
Men have wondered at the great things around them, and
have gazed with admiration on the stars of heaven ; but
what is their sublimity compared with the spiritual sublimity
of the kingdom of God within the human soul ? It is here, I
think, that we discern the peculiar glory, the most lovely
feature of the Christian system. In this moral purpose of
the Gospel, I see the brightest and deepest stamp of its true
divinity, the surest token that it is one of the forms of in¬
struction which came from the Everlasting Fountain of
truth, the most impressive evidence that it is the manifesta¬
tion of mercy and grace from a better world.
In stating this view of my subject, I hope it will be suffi¬
ciently evident, that I do not speak of that cheap and super¬
ficial thing sometimes called moral influence, which reaches
not the springs of thought and action, and which grows and
dies on the soil of this world. The moral purpose ascribed
to Christianity is far higher than this ; it includes within its
meaning all that religious improvement to which a disciple
of Jesus Christ can aspire, the whole range of obedience to
the laws of God, the purification of motives and principles
under sanctifying influences, and above all the habit of act¬
ing on the warm and abiding conviction that we are here
for a far higher and better end than can be here accom¬
plished, and that if we do not live for eternity, we mistake
radically the purpose of our existence. It tells us, that our
progress in Christianity coincides precisely with our progress
in the duties we owe to God and man ; that the presence of
God in the soul is manifested solely by the presence of those
qualities which resemble his own moral attributes ; that what¬
ever degree of goodness any human being possesses, in that
degree does God dwell with them, and no further ; that
whatever portion of moral purity is in the heart, that portion
of the divine influence is there, and no more ; that in the
13
great work of becoming a true disciple of Jesus, no exertion
of self-command, no benevolent effort for others, no aspira¬
tion of piety, lifting the soul towards God, is lost ; but that
each of these is a part of vital religion, a production of some
portion of that effect at which Christianity singly and solely
aims. When we say, that the grand object of the Gospel
is to operate on the moral nature of man, we say for it, I
conceive, that which is the highest praise, far higher than
can be bestowed by all the rhapsodical declamation or fear¬
ful denunciation in the world. We state an object which
was worthy of all that cost of suffering and sacrifice by
which Christianity was established among men, an object as
much superior to all others as heaven is to earth, as much
more lasting as eternity is than time, as much more beauti¬
ful and glorious as the bright morning-star is than the gem
which glitters in the dust beneath our feet.
From the view which has now been taken of the charac¬
ter of the Christian system, some consequences follow,
which ought to be carefully observed.
1. It presents the encouraging fact, that the amount of
real religion in the community is not to be measured by any
of the standards which mark the diversities of theological
opinion. If the true kingdom of God be within, and within
only, it must in its nature depend more on the culture of
the heart, than on the form of speculative faith. We are
apt to leave out of view the difference between religious
opinions, and the religious feeling, or sentiment, and to for¬
get that while the former are thrown into every possible
variety of shape, the latter may be about the same in all.
It is consoling to reflect, that those, in whom the moral pur¬
pose of the Gospel is accomplished, are in the nature of the
case far more numerous than those wTio hold what we should
deem a correct creed ; that the internal power of Christian¬
ity is known to many who are ranked under opposite ban¬
ners as to faith. The practical followers of the Saviour are
scattered far and wide among those who bear his name ;
14
and the lines, by which we trace them, strike across all the
lines that mark the boundaries of the various divisions of
Christendom. I would not be understood to say, that there
is no connexion between doctrine and practice, for that
would be to state a proposition which the history of man in
every other department, as well as in religion, would con¬
tradict. But I believe it will be found that the doctrines
which really do influence practice, are almost always those
in which Christians are essentially agreed, when they lay
aside the technical phraseology of their sect, and understand
one another. At least, I think this is the case, when there
is no agitating excitement to turn the thoughts and feelings
of men in another direction ; for it is one of the evil effects
of keen disputation and party warfare, that men are excited
to realize and to carry out in practice the bad consequences
of doctrines, which otherwise would have slept inoperative
and harmless in their minds. When the storm is abroad,
they wrap around them more and more closely the mantle
of the sect, and declare,—what they before never thought
of maintaining,—that it is the only Christian garment. They
feel in some sort compelled to be and to do what their creed
requires them to be and to do ; and the silent influences,
which had before effectually counteracted this tendency,
wither under the grasp of the stern power that has now
taken possession of their minds. But with the exception
of the interruptions occasioned by the out-breakings of the
fierce spirit of party, I believe that the doctrines which do
in fact influence practice habitually and extensively, are not
the doctrines that constitute the land-marks of division
among Christians. There are, to be sure, at all times, way¬
ward and perverse minds, who shrink from no consequences,
however terrific, that seem to them to flow from their faith.
But with the great mass of the Christian community it is
not so ; for they are better than their bad creeds, and worse
than their good creeds. If it be objected, that this implies
a strange want of consistency, I would reply, that surely the
15
inconsistency of man is no new discovery. And in the pre¬
sent case we have reason to he thankful, that, even at the
cost of consistency, there is a redeeming spirit in the com¬
mon sense and good feelings of mankind, which so often
paralyses the power of doctrines, that, if unchecked, would
naturally produce the worst effects,—that points of faith,
when they stand in hooks adjusted to a system, are far from
being the same things as when they exist in the actual ap¬
prehensions of men,—and that certain opinions and certain
minds come together by a sort of inexplicable attraction,
without affecting the essential constituents of the kingdom of
God in the soul. . A striking illustration of the fact, that
Christians after all occupy common ground with regard to
the interior moral power of religion, is furnished by those
seasons of calamity and trial, which make them forget their
speculative differences. At such times, they find that the
distinctions, by which they have been known from each
other, are not what they want : in the hour of need they
want those plain truths and consoling hopes, which form the
practical fellowship of hearts that had before been estranged
from one another. It is recorded, that when the city of
London, in the year 1665, was visited with the plague,
which raged like the wild-fire of destruction through that
immense mass of population, as soon as the hope of check¬
ing its ravages gave way to the anguish of despair, when the
pestilence was at the most awful height, the people rushed
in one indiscriminate multitude into the temples of God.
Wherever a sanctuary offered itself, wherever a church was
to be found, no matter of what denomination, there they
poured out their souls to Him, of whom they besought help ;
the distinctions of religious faith were forgotten while their
hearts were melted down together in humility and prayer
before the altar of God. But no sooner did the scourge
begin to be withdrawn, no sooner did its fury cease, than
they remembered and returned to their distinguishing creeds,
and one of the first evidences of the diminution of the pesti-
16
lence was the separating into their old religious parties.
There is nothing like a time of general trial and suffering,
to unmask the deceptions we put upon ourselves with re¬
gard to this subject,—and to show us that where the words
of Jesus, which are spirit and life, are received at all, they
find nearly the same lodgment in all hearts.
2. This subject furnishes us with the true measure, by
which to estimate Christian improvement. If our religion
be an interior principle of moral life, then the great ques¬
tion is, has it established and strengthened its kingdom with¬
in ? If it be a strong and peaceful spirit of internal purity,
then the increase of its dominion over us must be the in¬
crease of good motives, good affections, and good purposes.
It presents itself to us in the form of a living principle, which,
like a secret and holy fire, spreads gradually till it warms
and enlightens the whole moral nature. It is common to
say, we must all experience a change, if we would become
true Christians. And so we must, if the expression be un¬
derstood aright. I should rather say, we must experience
a great many changes, for this plain reason, that, if we are
true Christians, we must and shall be always improving. If
the kingdom of God be really within us, it is built up silently
and by degrees. This is in conformity, not only with all that
we know of man's nature, as a moral being, but with all the
declarations of our Saviour respecting the character of his
Gospel. Conversion, if it be genuine, if it be worth having,
is the business of the whole life ; for, what does it imply
It implies turning from what is bad to what is good. Now
if the Christian be faithful to his Master, and to his privi¬
leges, he will always be turning from what is bad to what
is good ; and therefore his conversion will not terminate till
it has conducted him to the rest that remaineth for the peo¬
ple of God. Of many Christians it may truly be said, that
they cannot remember the time when the principle of true
religion was not within them. They can see that its foun¬
dation has settled deeper and its power grown stronger,
17
from time to time, in their hearts ; but its beginnings were
there even in the earliest dawn of childhood, and its progress
has been sure and constant, though never violent or showy.
And there is no form, in which religion so happily reveals
its power to the soul, as in this.
If, then, we wish to know whether we have begun the
Christian course, whether we have made progress in the
Christian life, we must not look around us for tokens and
signs to hang out before the world ; we must not cry—' lo
here ! or, lo there !'—we must not think much of a sudden
flush of the shame of guilt, or of the fervor of a few days or
hours of agitated feelings or alarming apprehensions ; no,
we must look within and see whether the interior principle
of the Saviour's kingdom is there. If, with the solemn and
abiding conviction, that the eye of God is upon us while we
are taking this inward account, we can find, by the trust-wor¬
thy report of conscience, that the spirit of Christianity has an
increasing power over our thoughts, motives and feelings,—
that our desires, purposes and wishes are growing more
chastened and consecrated under its influence,—that our
selfishness is rooted out, our pride broken down, our devo¬
tion warmed, and our sense of duty quickened by having
learned of him, who was meek and lowly in heart,—that
our passions have been taught to bow down submissively
before his religion, and to yield obedience to him, as the
stormy waters once sunk into silence at his bidding,—in
short, that there has been in our characters a growth of the
virtues and graces, which are the appropriate fruit of the
Gospel,—then it is no matter whether our advancement in
the spiritual life be recorded on the register of any sect or
not 5 it is enough for us that the kingdom of God is within,
and that we cease not to strive that it may abide and grow
stronger there. To judge of religious improvement by the
ebb and flow of feelings and impressions is as unreasonable
and delusive, as to form an estimate of the climate of a
country by the winds or the face of the sky, which may
3
18
chance to prevail as we pass through some portion of it.
We must become acquainted with the general state of the
atmosphere, and the usual and average health of the inhab¬
itants, before we can make up a just opinion. And so we
must consider what is the moral health of the soul, what the
general spirit with which it is animated, before we can come
to any safe conclusion as to the reality and strength of the
principle of spiritual improvement.
3. We may gather from this subject the principles on
which we are to judge of the worth of outward manifesta¬
tions of every sort, as connected with the Christian charac¬
ter. That there is a strong tendency to ascribe an exagge¬
rated value to these is sufficiently evident. There is a pa¬
cific and internal religion, and there is a religion of disputa¬
tion and display ; it is this latter kind which men are most
disposed to wonder after and be enamoured with, because
it has a business-like appearance, works for striking effect,
and serves to carry off the superfluous activity of stirring
minds in outward excitements, and in the bustle of manage¬
ment. Doubtless there is an opposite extreme j and no one
would wish to see the Christian community resemble a stag¬
nant pool, lest it should become mantled over with collec¬
tions of impurity, alike unsightly to the eye and pernicious
to the health. Of this, however, there is little, if any, dan¬
ger J and I believe if there be any thing which requires great
delicacy and cautious wisdom, it is the management of ex¬
ternal stimulants in religion. They are exceedingly apt to
degenerate into systematic scenery and parade—to create a
sort of spiritual rivalry, in which men are exhorted not to
be outdone by others in the work of excitement, to call out
the action of strife against strife, and of contrivance against
contrivance. Combinations are formed, on all hands, to
carry on great plans connected with what are conceived to
be the interests of religion at home and abroad. Money
and time are prodigally expended, that the community may
be kept in a state of continual fermentation. Arrangements
19
are made, the operation of which is to reach far and wide ;
and it is thought necessary that every thing should be done
on the largest scale of the most public and showy exertion.
Devices for swelling the influence and increasing the num¬
ber of a party are pushed to the utmost. The interest taken
in ostentatious and expensive plans is pronounced to be the
test of true zeal. The cry of " lo here ! and lo there I" is
heard from all sides ; and the progress of the kingdom of
God is considered only as a matter of observation. Religion
manifests itself in sounding and showy forms, as if to operate
on the individual heart were too humble a task for it to per¬
form ; and men delight to speak of it in the martial style, in
all the strong and violent figures of military language.
It seems to have been the destiny of the Christian world,
at least of many parts of it, to be subject almost periodically
to this diseased state of feeling, which, after having wearied
and afflicted the community for a while, at length subsides,
and leaves an interval, during which men breathe from the
toil of the strong pressure, until some train of circumstances
calls forth a renewal of it, and the same scene is acted over
again. Many of the modes of excitement, several of the
points of dispute at the present day, as well as of the argu¬
ments by which they are supported or refuted, and not a
few of the accusations and reproaches, which are now ad¬
vanced and repelled with so much earnestness, are just the
same that agitated our community when the celebrated
George Whitfield shook society with the strong power of
an eloquence, the striking effects of which are now matter
of curious tradition. The praises of the age have been so
often and so loudly repeated, that we are apt to forget, that
after all, men, taken in the mass, are not so very different
in the nineteenth century from what they ever were before.
Whatever may be the good effects claimed for these periods
of external striving and operation in religion, yet they are
certainly liable to abuses, which should call into exercise
the utmost watchfulness. The fertility of the soil in the
20
neighborhood of volcanic mountains is said to be increased
by their eruptions ; yet, even if this be true, every one would
think it wise to guard most vigilantly against the danger and
desolation that belong to the price at which the benefit is
thus dearly purchased.
The times, of which I have spoken, are adapted to give
an ascendancy to coarse and violent men ; to put a power
for evil into hands which otherwise could never have gained
any power ; to stimulate the appetite that craves whatever
acts strongly on the feelings without enlightening the under¬
standing, so that, whatever may be the boast of improve¬
ment, progress in light and truth is in fact checked ; to make
us forget that there is a wide and important difference be¬
tween the discussion of great subjects by calm and inquisi¬
tive minds and the bitterness of general and popular conten¬
tion about titles of doctrines or places of worship, between
the love of truth, as it dwells apart in the mind of its sin¬
cere votary, and the heedless passion for conflict about reli¬
gious opinions, occupying nearly the same place among the
mass of society which is sometimes filled by blind political
excitement. With all this external agitation, much sincere
piety, I grant, may be mingled. But does all this look like
the description our Saviour gives of his religion, when he
tells us that his words are spirit and life ? Does all this har¬
monize with the beautiful impression we gather from the
instructions of him " who spake as man never spake i"' Are
we not rather constrained to say with Paley, on another oc¬
casion, " how different from the calmness, the sobriety, the
good sense, and I may add the strength and authority of
our Lord's discourses."
Such is the character of Christianity as an internal and
purely spiritual principle, and such are some of the reflec¬
tions which the subject suggests.
It will be manifest, I think. Christian friends, that here is
the most important and affecting aspect in which our religion
21
can be viewed. Considered in this character, it addresses
itself, in all its power and all its tenderness, directly to the
moral nature of man ; it seems to say to us, in the strong
and-vivid language of an old writer : "Retire much into
yourselves, and there demand of your souls that they de¬
clare their quality and condition to you. They are able to
make you an answer ; and therefore, bid them tell you what
is their parentage and kindred, of what house they are de¬
scended, what is their nature, their portion, their inherit¬
ance; and do not cease till you have received satisfaction.
Ask them if they are not the daughters of God, sisters to
angels, images of divinity ? Hearken if they will not tell you
that they are spirits of a vast understanding, purer than light,
swifter than the lightning, whose portion and dowry is im¬
mortality, whose place is the universe, whose capacity is a
picture of infinity, who are born to be heirs of the other
world, to have the honor of being kings, and to reign with
God forever."* When Christianity is thus regarded with
reference to its internal object and character, we see that
justly is it called in Scripture " the glorious Gospel of the
blessed God,"—glorious in that it has met and satisfied the
great moral wants of man, glorious in the light which it sheds
on eternity, glorious in the consolation it bestows on the chil¬
dren of sorrow, and in the purity it imparts both to the affec¬
tions which belong to earth and to those which cleave to
immortality. It thus developes most beautifully its aptitude
to call forth and combine with all that is excellent and spi¬
ritual in man ; and the^e is not a noble or generous thought,
not a pure or holy desire, not a sublime or far-reaching as¬
piration within us, that is not attracted, as if for light and
warmth, to the internal kingdom where Christianity sits en¬
throned in the heart.
This is the religion, for the great interests of which the
pastoral relation is established and consecrated. In our
country, the connexion between the Christian teacher and
* Patrick's Parable of the Pilgrim.
22
those for whom he labors, is surrounded by none of the
pomp of office, none of the trappings of ecclesiastical pre¬
rogatives. Its beauty and strength rest entirely on a just
sense of the high purpose of the ministry ; and if it be hal¬
lowed at all, it must be by an habitual reference to the na¬
ture of that spiritual dispensation, for the advancement of
which it is formed. In the character of Christianity, the
faithful minister will find at once his most solemn admoni¬
tion and his strongest encouragement. He will not consider
himself, like the priests of ancient times, a manager of the
ceremonies of sacred things. The production of goodness,
of spiritual purity, will be his great work. He will not sat¬
isfy himself, nor permit others to be satisfied, with externals
of any kind. He will not for a moment encourage the de¬
lusion, that God is to be pleased by any thing, but by being
good and doing good. He will strive to make it felt, as a
great and fundamental truth, that the attempt to find any
substitute for purity of heart is an idle and wicked employ¬
ment,—that the means are only for the end, and are but
idle and dead things without the end,—that the eye of God
looks through the parade or the solemnity of all outWard
manifestations, and marks what lies beneath them. He will
not, indeed, wish for that peace, which is like the silence of
the grave, where all is peaceful only because all is motion¬
less and dead ; but at the same time he will watch and pray
against the disposition that would lead him to plant the root
of bitterness within the shadow of the sanctuary where it
may grow till it become a poison tree, and till piety die un¬
der its influence. He will labor to build up the kingdom of
the Saviour within, believing Christianity in all its most im¬
portant relations to be a plain, simple, and straight-forward
business, bringing an errand from the Father of truth to our
hearts and souls, and failing of its best and highest purpose
if it have not gone down into the depths of the soul and
sanctified the motives and principles. He will therefore be
saved from the delusion of aiming at sudden and showy
23
effects in his labors, or of considering these as the best evi¬
dence of the blessing of Jieaven on his efforts ; while those
landmarks of improvement, which betoken a growth in grace,
will be at once his excitement and reward, in the midst of
the most pains-taking exertions.
With such views of the character of the Christian system
as connected with the duties of the ministry, we take a deep
interest in the transactions of this day. We rejoice in the
consecration of our brother to the cause of a religion, which
was at the first ushered in as the herald of peace on earth
and good will to men ; for we believe, that wherever the
weary and heavy laden are to be relieved, wherever the sor¬
rowful are to be comforted, the ignorant to be enlightened,
or the wanderer from truth and duty to be guided aright j
wherever there is a sinner's heart touched with penitence, a
poor prodigal anxious to return to his father's house, there
Christianity appears, and shall appear, a minister of light
and joy, man's best friend in life and his strong stay in
death, his guide on earth, his everlasting hope—surrounding
him with encouragement and defence, with support and so¬
lace, and cherishing with all its holy influence that divine
life, that kingdom within, which takes hold on eternity, and
bears in its nature the germ of an angel's purity and an
angel's happiness.
THE CHARGE,
BY REV. W. B. O, PEABODY, OF SPRINGFIELD,
I am directed by the churches here assembled, to give to
the pastor of this society, the injunction of his duty.
I do not believe, sir, that you have accepted this call,
without determining in your own mind, what your duty is,
and what efforts and sacrifices it will demand. I shall there¬
fore make but one or two remarks—such as my own expe¬
rience supplies.
And first, I say, do not consider it the principal part of
your duty, to spread your religious opinions. I believe
them to be true, heavenly, and important : I desire most
earnestly to see all men embrace them ; but I am bound to
tell you, that if you make this your main endeavor, and set
your heart upon immediate or even early success, you will
be disappointed. The nature of truth and the nature of
man forbid it. The lines of party are drawn wide and deep
around you—a jealous eye is fixed upon every movement
of every individual ; whoever passes from another party to
yours, must take the risk of being shot as a deserter. Now
I need not tell you, that these are difficulties, which it re¬
quires strength of conviction and strength of heart to en¬
counter. You must wait almost till one generation has pass¬
ed away and carried its prejudices down with it to the dust,
before you can hope to see large accessions to your num¬
bers. But " the husbandman who goes forth weeping, bear¬
ing precious seeds, shall doubtless return rejoicing, bringing
his sheaves with him." Still, he must have long patience ;
the Sun of righteousness itself looked cold and pale to the
world ages after its rising ; but its glory filled the heaven
at last.
25
Again sir, let me say that the only way to extend your
liberal sentiments and at the same time to discharge your
duty here, is to attend with a single eye to the personal im¬
provement of your hearers, and to do that which you in
your conscience think best for this purpose ; for should oth¬
ers differ from you, you must follow your own convictions.
If you try sometimes to explain the manner of Divine exist¬
ence—tell them oftener what God requires of them : if you
sometimes endeavor to show who Jesus Christ was—tell
them oftener what he is to them : for once where you tell
them what man is by nature, tell them ten times what Chris¬
tianity was meant to make him. Preach that religion only,
which makes bad men good and good men better : explain
Christianity as another name for improvement ; endeavor to
establish principles in the breast ; and let all the feelings
you attempt to inspire be—not such as start up in sudden
flashes—not such as spread in a consuming fire—but such
as burn with the steady brightness of a lamp unto the feet.
Thus your light will shine before men, like the evening
light from hospitable windows ; and men will be attracted
by it, because it tells them of peace and happiness within.
Once more ; let me say that while you openly declare
your own sentiments, you will not encourage the spirit of
party, if you have the interests of Christianity at heart.
Your people are lovers of peace, though when driven to
resistance they withstood all bondage of the soul. I think
I can assure you, that they would not for the world confine
their own sympathy or the favor of God to the limit of their
own numbers ; for they know that the spirit of Christianity
may be found in every sect of christians. It rests with you,
sir, to encourage this good feeling. Help them to tread out
the sparks of unholy passion ; join with them beneath the
broad banner of love : you may not be joined by those who
require to be frightened into their opinions ; let them go :
you may not be joined by those who mistake the presump-
4
26
tion of ignorance for the manly confidence of truth ; let
them go : and whatever bearing it may have on our fancied
interest or our numbers, may we all be ready to say,—if
there is any faith which brings better evidence than ours—
any one that has a better influence on the conduct and feel¬
ing—any faith that has more real power to extend the influ¬
ence of the cross—so help us God, we will make that faith
our own, and cast ours away at once and forever.
RIGHT HAIVD OF FELFOWISHIP,
BY REV. GEORGE W. HOSMER, OF NORTHFIELD.
MY BROTHER,
This is one of the trying hours of your life. By the
solemn services of consecration and charge, the conviction
is pressed home to you that you have laid your hand upon
the ark of God. You feel upon you the burdens of future
years. Unspeakable anxieties agitate your mind. We know
by experience—never can the conscientious minister forget
the hour of ordination—those chilling fears, those thrilling
hopes. My Brother, this is the sason for sympathy. You
need it ; and we delight to extend it to you. There are
times, and this is one, when the heart would faint or break,
if we were not certain that others felt with us ; and God
has graciously provided for this necessity ; he has made us
capable of entering into each other's souls, and thus has
given the power of excluding from our minds the discourag¬
ing idea of loneliness. If all would heed the new com¬
mandment, to love one another, there would be an universal
sympathy. The whole community of virtue would be at¬
tuned in such harmony, that one chord being struck, the
whole would vibrate in sweetest unison. But alas, all is not
as it should be. Society is divided and weakened. One¬
sided prejudice and party zeal,—warmed into life, often as
we fear by unhallowed fire,—are gathering men into a mul¬
titude of groups, each struggling to accomplish its partial
purposes. Thus the unity of the spirit is disturbed, and the
bond of peace, which should hold together and strengthen
for vigorous effort, is rent asunder. Since then we cannot
rejoice in the universal fellowship of Christians, we will re¬
joice in the narrow fellowship which is left us. Thanks be
28
to God we are not alone in the search and defence of what
we believe the truth as it is in Jesus. Our ears are greeted
with the glad sound—brother. Our hearts are cheered and
our hands are strengthened by sympathy and help. Yes, my
Brother, you are not alone ; warm hearts are here to wel¬
come you, and willing hands to assist you. As the repre¬
sentative of this reverend council, I give you the right hand
of fellowship. It is not mine alone ; it is the right hand of
our fathers and brethren in the work of the gospel. Receive
it as a pledge that we will be one with you in kind feeling
and good purpose,—that we will rejoice in your joys, and
administer to your necessities ; in the time of need, our
strength shall be your strength ; as disciples of a common
Master we promise this. For your sake, and for the sake
of pure religion, we will seek your good. From this mo¬
ment let our interests, our joys, and our hopes be bound up
together.
My Brother—we welcome you to the pleasures of the
ministry, which are by no means small, for its delightful of¬
fice is to win souls to immortal glory. We welcome you to
the honors of the ministry, which are genuine, for in Christ's
stead we stand as spiritual shepherds ; and shall I say aught
of the labors and trials of the ministry,—for it has many of
them, and what condition in life has not? No, my brother,
I will not darken the lightsome hopes of this day by gloomy
prophecies. You have been too wise in your observations
of men and events, to indulge unreasonable expectations.
Care and toil are the lot of life. We know you will not
shrink from, nor be disheartened with, hard and constant
effort, and frequent perplexities, should they arise,—but ra¬
ther, like Paul, rejoice that you are accounted able and
worthy to labor and suffer for your Master. To the true
Christian the yoke is easy and the burden light. There
may always be, if man is faithful, an exact harmony between
the burden to be borne, and the ability to bear it ; for when
mortal energies cannot avail, then faith, pointing to iramor-
29
tality, discloses the stores of promise, and fills the pious soul
with divine encouragement. The Christian minister should
be the last to faint and be weary under the burdens and heat
of the day ; for he stands foremost to smite the spiritual
Rock, that it may gush out with streams of living water ;
and while he thus furnishes the means of refreshing to oth¬
ers, he can and he ought to repair his own strength for
further effort.
My Brother—we rejoice with you in the promise of this
day. The voice of an intelligent, affectionate and united
people has called you among them. We hope and pray
that the connection now formed may be long, happy, and
useful.
My friend, and class-mate,—our paths have long laid side
by side. We have come up together from the earlier days
of youth. Thanks to the kind Providence which is per¬
mitting us still to go on hand in hand. I rejoice to receive
you as a neighbor and helper in this beautiful portion of the
vineyard. Accept my own congratulation and welcome. I
will give you my own hand ; it may be weak, but in time of
need it shall be yours. Together may we long "journey
in the light of our holy religion, and labor in its hope."
And now, for myself and for all, I bid you farewell. May
God bless you.
ADDRESS TO THE SOCIETY,
BY REV. GEORGE RIPLEY, OF BOSTON.
Brethren and Friends of this Society,
It is with sincere joy that we bid you God speed, in the
interesting transactions of this day. It is an occasion of no
ordinary congratulation for yourselves and your children.
We cordially unite with you in the sympathies and hopes
that have now been awakened. The prosperity of your
Society has always been near our hearts, as lovers of truth,
freedom and righteousness ; and when in times past, under
the various circumstances of discouragement with which it
has pleased God to try your fortitude and faith, we could
not but mourn with you as you mourned, so now in this sea¬
son of joyous anticipations and holy hopes, we would grate¬
fully rejoice with you as you rejoice. In the harmony and
christian feeling, with which you have invited our brother to
engage in the ministry of the Gospel among you, and the
peculiar qualifications for that work which he is ready to
consecrate to your service, we discover the happiest omens.
The sky is red and glowing with the light of the morning
sun ; we believe that it will shine brighter and brighter unto
the perfect day.
But, brethren, while I express to you the congratulations
of the Churches now assembled, it is my duty, before we
separate, to present to you in their name our parting coun¬
sels, which, if not sanctioned by weight of experience or
years, may be recommended by the sincere friendship and
interest in your welfare, which suggest them. We wish that
the connexion, which has now been formed, may be fruitful
in the richest blessings. It is our earnest prayer that your
31
dearest wishes may be realized. And we would faithfully
warn you against the evils to which you are exposed. There
are some errors, which I shall venture to speak of, not with
the idea that you are more liable to them than others, but
believing that every religious society is more or less in dan¬
ger from them.
1. Let me warn you against the error of expecting from
your pastor, more than he can perform. You have a right
to cherish high expectations, but let them not be extravagant.
Do not suppose that because your minister can do much,
there is nothing which he cannot do. If you indulge this
supposition now, you will next suppose that because he does
not everything, he does nothing. However faithfully he may
exert himself—however successfully he may accomplish what
he attempts, it is probable that you will always be able to
imagine something better, for it is much easier to conceive
of perfection than it is to attain it. You will be very liable
to expect more from his public preaching than you will al¬
ways receive. You may form your standard from his best
performances, and as he cannot always equal them, since no
man is always equal to himself, you will be disappointed.
But remember the situation of your Pastor. He stands here
almost alone. There are few of his brethren in the ministry
to aid him in his labors, when his usual burdens are greater
than he can bear, or to cheer him on his way, when his
spirit is ready to sink. The demand upon his intellect will
be perpetual. The most gifted mind must often feel itself
exhausted under such frequent calls upon its resources.
Can you then expect every discourse to be a master-piece
of composition ? Ought you to be disappointed if every Sab¬
bath does not afford you a feast of original thought and elo¬
quent expression ? It is impossible. No man is competent
to it. It would surpass the prolific powers of the great mod¬
ern master of fiction himself, the copiousness of whose pro¬
ductions is as remarkable as their genius ; but who, after all,
in the actual amount of composition, has perhaps done less
32
than every clergyman in the country, who writes his two
sermons a week. It is not in human nature to fill so large a
space with ' thoughts that breathe and words that burn.' No.
You must be satisfied with much less than this. You must
not expect that a taste formed on the fine models of pulpit
eloquence with which you are familiar can always be daintily
served. If you expect that religious truth can be brought
forward, Sunday after Sunday, year after year, in the rich
and beautiful drapery to which you have been accustomed
in the printed sermons of the distinguished dead, whose
writings have enlightened your minds and quickened your
piety, you cherish an expectation which even those great
and good men themselves could never have satisfied.—^You
may expect too much also of your pastor in the way of vis¬
iting your families. That, I believe, is now almost univer¬
sally a very popular part of the minister's duty. He is gen¬
erally expected to be very familiar with his people—to visit
them a great deal. I would by no means object to this. It
is well that such a spirit should prevail in our religious com¬
munity. But, I suppose, no one who has not tried it, can
have any idea of the demand it makes upon a man's time
and strength, to perform the parochial duties in a society
containing fifty or a hundred families, with advantage to
them and satisfaction to himself. If you would profit by
your minister's labors in this part of his duty, you must not
attempt to settle for yourselves the length or frequency of
his visits. He knows just how much time he can give to
them far better than any other person can. If you take oc¬
casion from one visit to complain that you have not received
so many as you desired, and attribute this to your minister's
neglect, it only throws a chill over his heart, by reminding
him that you are not satisfied with seeing him as often as
his other duties permit, and that you are not confident of
his arranging his time in the best manner for himself and
for you. If you do not really think a minister is idle and
negligent ; if you believe that he is mainly intent upon his
33
duty and tries to be faithful to his trust ; if you see him
diligent in his studies, faithful in his pulpit, constant in his
attendance on the sick, the poor and the afflicted, always
ready to give light, counsel or sympathy, as it may be de¬
manded by any members of his society—then repose in him
a generous confidence, that if his visits are not as numerous
as you could wish, they are as much so as the claims of
your brethren and the calls of other duties will allow.
2. Again, brethren, let me warn you against the error of
expecting great and immediate effects from the labors of
your minister. In this age of excitement, or as it has been
called, prematurely perhaps, an age of efficient action, too
many are disposed to look for rapid and wonderful results,
from every undertaking in which they engage. They are
disappointed, if they do not witness them. They are dis¬
couraged, if no striking improvement soon takes place.
They would have every thing attempted and every thing
done at once. By this standard they judge of the success
of the christian minister. If religion is the theme of every
tongue, if crowds resort to the house of God, if multitudes
are loud and earnest in their professions, then, a signal bles¬
sing is supposed to have, attended the labors of Christ's ser¬
vant. Brethren, judge not your minister by this rule. Do
not estimate your spiritual prosperity by so fallacious a stand¬
ard. Do not think that no good has heen done, because it
cannot be weighed by this artificial balance. Remember
that many holy resolutions are formed under the preaching
of God's word, of which no one but God is the witness-
Many a secret prayer is uttered, which is known only to
him, who heareth prayer. Many thoughts are directed to
God and heaven, which are never revealed to man. Many
hearts are kindled with the pure flame of piety, of which
the world takes no note. Why, then, should you say that
the labors of the minister are vain, because he cannot write
down their effects in a book í My friends, they are enrolled
on a faithful tablet. Their record is with God ; and the
5
34
Lamb's book of'life will show, that the still small voice has
guided a multitude, whom no man can number, to the midst
of the Throne.
Remember that the kingdom, which your minister preach¬
es, Cometh not with outward show. Its triumphs are gradual
like every thing valuable in the works of God. Its march
is like that of universal nature. What is there, that is made
perfect at once ? Is not the law of progress inscribed on the
destiny of every created thing The loftiest tree of the for¬
est was once an invisible germ in the bosom of the earth,
and after many alternate seasons of sunshine and storm has
grown up to its present magnificent luxuriance. The broad¬
est river, which rolls through the deep valleys of our land
and struggles with the ocean in its rage, as their sounding
waters meet, can be traced back to the little streamlet which
glides along the mountain's side. Brethren, remember that
the same God, who rules over nature, rules over the human
heart. Reverence the laws of his eternal Providence.
Honor and bless the gradual and silent operations of divine
grace, which God may vouchsafe by the labors of your min¬
ister, as a part of the sublime system, by which the wide
Universe is governed.
3. Once more, my friends, let me warn you against the
error of supposing that the exertions of your minister in the
cause of religion can compensate for the want of your own.
Oh ! no. He will be with you as one among you and of
you. He is not like the priests of old time, to whose keep¬
ing men committed the interests of their souls. He has no
charmed talisman to secure you from evil ; no solemn incan¬
tations to exorcise your conscience. He labors for you, but
you must labor with him. His success depends, in a great
degree, upon yourselves. You can aid him in every branch
of his duty. He comes to you to preach the unsearchable
riches of Christ ; let not the glad tidings fall on heedless
ears. He comes to lead your devotions in the spiritual
worship of God j do not bring his soaring thoughts down to
35
earth by your indifférence and apathy. He will enter your
dwellings, to speak to you as a friend on the holiest themes.
He will go there not merely to give and receive the courte¬
sies of society ; but as a man of God, to inquire whether
' your souls are in health and prosper.' Oh, chill not his
spirit, when he would speak in his Master's cause, by shew¬
ing that you have no heart for the subject. Receive him,
not as a transient guest, to be amused with the news of the
day, but as the minister of Christ, whom you have chosen ;
the religious friend whom you can acquaint with the diffi¬
culties of your religious progress ; to whom you can freely
unbosom your spiritual trials and your spiritual joys ; of
whose sympathy you can be certain, and with whom, while
you take sweet counsel, your hearts will burn within you in
remembrance of your common Lord, as the disciples' did,
when they talked with him by the way.
Many will be your minister's cares. Abundant will be
his labors. No security has he against heavy trials. He
has the heart of a man, and it .will sometimes sink within
him. Often will he be compelled to say, ' now is my soul
troubled.' But there is support, not only in God, but by his
good Providence, in yourselves. You can always cheer his
heart. One thing, at least, you can do j show him that his
labor is not in vain. Let him see you deeply, solemnly in¬
terested in the cause to which he has consecrated the fresh¬
ness of his youth and the strength of his early manhood.
Let your souls be kindled with the religious feeling that
glows in his own. Let him see here the fruits of the Spirit.
Let him be cheered on his way by the sympathy of experi¬
enced Christians—Christians, who understand their religion
and who love it too. Let him witness a steady attendance
on the service of God's house. When he breaks the bread
of life at the Lord's table, do not refuse to receive it. Do
not neglect that ordinance for any incompetent excuse. Let
him rejoice to behold gathered there, every believing father
and mother, surrounded with the children of their house, as
36
soon as they are capable of " discerning the Lord's body,"
And let him be assured that your outward services are the
sincere expression of your inward piety. This, brethren,
will encourage your minister. It will be the most efficient
aid you can give him. Let him see you earnest in your
attempts to cultivate the christian spirit in your own hearts,
in your children, in your families, in your friends, and you
confer upon him as great a blessing as he can desire on
earth. Give him but this, you give him more than any
thing else. Let him see you happy ; happy in obedience
to the laws of God ; happy in the enjoyment of a religious
hope ; happy in the thought of a blessed immortality, and
you secure his own happiness on the surest foundation.
You encourage him, as the faithful minister of Christ always
wishes to be encouraged.
Brethren and friends, we bid you farewell. May it be
well with our youthful brother in the connexion which he
has formed with you. May it be well with every member
of this respected society. . May it be well with you as you
pursue together the eventful journey of life. May it be well
with you in the hour of death. May it be well with you,
when you shall be called to render up your account to God,
—well with you through the ceaseless ages of eternity.
îTïjc Jtloral îEfKcacD of tïje Doctrine of
tl)c atonement.
A
SERMON,
DELIVERED ON THE EVENING OF FEBRUARY 3, 1831.
IN THE
FIRST * BAPTIST MEETING HOUSE IN BOSTON,
AT THE INSTALLATION OF THE REV. WILLIAM HAGUE.
By FRANCIS WAYLAND, Jr.
President of Brown University.
BOSTON :
PRINTED AT THE OFFICE OF THE NEW-ENGLAND
BAPTIST REGISTER, 19, WATER STREET.
True and Greene, Printers.
Boston, February 6, 1831.
Rev. Francis Wayland, Jr.
Rev. and Dear Sir—At a meeting of the Proprietors of Pews
in the Meeting house of the First Baptist Church and Society in
this City, held this day, it was unanimously voted : That the thanks
of the Society be presented to you for the Sermon preached at the
Installation of their Pastor, Rev. William Hague, on Thursday
last, and that a copy he respectfully requested for the press.
The undersigned, having been appointed a committee to com¬
municate to you the above vote, would add their earnest wish that
the request may be granted.
We are. Dear Sir,
Most respectfully.
Your Friends, and
Obedient Servants,
JOHN K. SIMPSON,
JOHN SULLIVAN,
S. G. SHIPLEY,
JOSEPH URANN,
DARIUS BOARDMAN,
CommUtee.
SERMOSî
ROMANS, vüi. 3, 4.
For what the law could not do, in that it was weak through the flesh, God
sending his own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh, and for sin, condemned
sin in the flesh ; that the righteousness of the law might be fulfilled in us,
who walk not after the flesh but after the spirit.
Without detaining you, my brethren, by a formal
introduction, I remark, at once, that the object of
this discourse is two-fold. I shall endeavour, first,
to illustrate the meaning of the text ; and, secondly,
to exhibit some of its applications to our belief and
practice.
I. I shall endeavour to illustrate the meaning of
the text. In order to do this with the greater perspi¬
cuity, it will be convenient to consider, 1. What it is
that the law could not do ; 2. The reason why the
law could not do it ; 3. The remedy suggested ; and
4. The result of the application of that remedy.
1. What is it that " the law could not do ?" The
meaning of this phrase is, I think, evident from the
latter part of the passage. We are informed that
" God sent his Son" to do " what the law could not
do that is, " condemn or destroy the power of sin.
4
that the righteousness of the law might be fulfilled in
us." By the term " righteousness of the law" here,
the same, I suppose, is meant as in the 26th verse
of the 2d chapter of this epistle, where, it is said,
" if the uncircumcision keep the righteousness of the
láio, shall not his uncircumcision be counted for cir¬
cumcision." Here, the words " righteousness of the
law" mean " righteous precepts of the law," so that
the meaning is, " if the Gentiles keep the righteous
precepts of the law, shall they not be as favorably es¬
teemed of God as if they were Jews ?" So, in the
present instance, I suppose the words, " that the
righteousness of the law might be fulfilled in us," to
mean " that we might keep or fulfil the righteous
precepts of the law." What the law could not do,
therefore, is " to eîiable us to keep its own righteous
precepts.'''' This is what the text represents us as in
some sense enabled to do by the gospel. That this
is the meaning indicated by the context, will also be
evident from the next consideration.
2. What is the reason why the law could not en¬
able us to keep its own righteous precepts ? The
apostle answers, " It was weak through the flesh."
Let us proceed to examine this affirmation.
Every man, who has reflected at all upon the work¬
ings of his own moral nature, must be conscious of
the existence of a faculty within him, which distin¬
guishes, more or less perfectly, between right and
wrong in human action ; and which, authoritatively
prompts to the doing of the one, and dissuades from
the doing of the other. It is what is frequently called
the moral sense or natural conscience, and it is re-
5
ferred lo as instigating the heathen by the apostle in
the first chapter of the Epistle to the Romans. Again,
every man must have had innumerable occasions for
observing that this conscience, thus dictating to him
his obligation to obey the law of God, is opposed by
the appetites and passions of the human heart. These
two contrary principles are referred to in the preced¬
ing chapter, under different names. The natural
conscience is called " the inner man," " the law of
my mind," " I," or " I myself." Our corrupt appe¬
tites and passions are termed " sin," " the law of
sin," " the law in my members," and, sometimes,
as in this case, " the flesh." Now the apostle asserts
that in the present state of human nature, while con¬
science, in coincidence with the law of God, com¬
mands one thing, and our corrupt propensities, in op¬
position to the laws of God, command another thing,
we, that is, mankind, all men, obey our passions, and
disobey God. To use his own language, " The law
of sin that is in our members, wars against the law
of our mind, and brings us into captivity to the law
of sin that is in our members." This ascendency of
our corrupt propensities over our conscience becomes
habitual and established, so that we go on, from day
to day and from year to year, doing what we know
we ought not to do, and leaving undone what we
know we ought to do. We have no disposition to
obey the law of God, and hence, so far as obedience
to that law and respect for the authority of the Law¬
giver are concerned, we are, in the language of the
scripture, " dead in trespasses and sins" ; that is, we
are, by nature, in no wise animated by the spirit of
obedience.
6
Now the apostle declares that such being the mo¬
ral character of man by nature, the law being thus
rendered weak, that is, ineíTectual by the flesh, it is
unable to produce in us obedience, it has no power
to overcome the ungovernable appetites and passions
of the human heart. For, if you will observe, the
case stood exactly thus. The man allows the holi¬
ness of the law, he acknowledges that he ought to
obey it, he knows the nature of the penalty, and is
aware that he is in danger of suflering it, but still he
will not obey. He is willing to risk all, rather than
relinquish the pleasures of sin. And such does the
bible declare to be the state of all men by nature.
They know their duty, but they do it not.
In such a case as this, what can the law do ? It
can make known the will of God, but the sinner has
already known and has resolved to resist it. It can
reveal the terrors of the penalty, but the sinner has
determined to enjoy the pleasures of sin, although it
cost his eternal ruin. What eflect would civil laws
have upon a man who had deliberately resolved to
disobey, all the penalty to the contrary notwithstand¬
ing. The law would here be weak through the flesh,
that is, through, or in consequence of, or in compari¬
son with, the power of his corruptions. Besides, God
requires not merely the sinner's doings, but the sin¬
ner's love. The terrors of the law can never awaken
love. They can never touch the sinner's heart.
They can never implant any new principle, and with¬
out a new principle, there can be no obedience.
Here then, again, is the law weak through the flesh,
and so far as the law is concerned, the state of man
is hopeless.
7
3. We proceed to consider the remedy spoken of
in the text. " God sent his own Son in the likeness
of sinful flesh, and for sin condemned sin in the
flesh." The term " likeness of sinful flesh" means,
" the form of sinful human nature." The phrase
" for sin" is a contraction for that of " offering for
sin." We find the same expression used in Ps. 40 :
6, and quoted by St. Paul, Hebrews, 10: 6. "In
burnt offerings and offerings for sin, Thou hast no
pleasure." The remedy, then, for our hopeless case
is that God has sent his Son, in the likeness of sinful
human nature, as an offering for sin.
It is here proper to remark an important distim
tion in the scriptural representations of this subjec..
The Bible, if I have not mistaken its meaning, speaks
of the sacrifice of Christ as designed to have a two¬
fold effect. First, it is revealed to us as a propitiation,
or as that which renders it consistent with justice that
God should be propitious to sinners ; as that which
removes the obstacles which on the part of Divine
holiness existed to our pardon. In this view, Christ is
spoken of as " the Lamb of God that taketh away the
sins of the world," as "tlie Lamb slain from the foun¬
dation of the world," as " he died who for our sins,"
and " he by whose stripes we are healed." But I
think that the offering up of Christ is also presented
in another light, namely, as having special reference,
not to God, but to man ; and as distinctly adapted
to transform man into new obedience. Man is repre¬
sented as alienated in his affections from God, and his
moral powers are declared to be enfeebled and utter¬
ly enslaved by his sinful propensities. There was
needed some manifestation on the part of God, not
8
of wrath, that could not do it, hut of love, to awaken
a correspondent emotion on the part of man. There
was needed some moral exhibition which should bear
directly upon the conscience, which, appealing to
every sentiment of gratitude, should call into new
life man's moral powers, and which, disenthralling
them from the bondage in which they had been held,
should give them a victory over the sin that dwelleth
in him. Now, this is precisely what is done by the
offering up of Christ. God so loved the world, that he
gave his only begotten son, that whosoever believeth
in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life.
Thus it is that Christ crucified, though to the Jews a
stumbling block, and to the Greeks foolishness, is yet
to them that believe, Christ, the power of God, and
Christ, the wisdom of God. Hence is the cross of
Christ so often spoken of as the grand means both of
converting and of sanctifying the world. Thus you
see how the death of Christ is the grand centre of the
whole system, the only means whereby the law of
God could be magnified, the only means by which
the enmity of our hearts can be slain.
It is to this second design of the death of Christ,
that I suppose the apostle to allude in the words of
the text. In the third and fourth chapters of this
epistle, he had abundantly shown that the Death
of Christ is the only meritorious cause of our justifi¬
cation before God. He here speaks of this event as
the means of our personal delivery from the power of
sin. This, then, is the moral remedy which the
text presents for our helpless and hopeless state by
nature.
9
4. The text speaks of the effects of the applica¬
tion of this remedy, " to condemn sin in the flesh,
that the righteousness of the law might be fulfilled
in us." By " condemning sin in the flesh " is meant
destroying the power of our sinful propensities over
us. I have already spoken of the power of the flesh,
that is, of the dominion which by nature our lusts and
appetites exercise over the moral powers of the soul.
Now, when a manifestation is made to a man of the
love of God in the sacrifice of Christ, a new energy
is diffused through all his moral powers, he bursts
loose from the fetters which bound him, saying what
fruit have we in those things whereof we are now
ashamed, for the end of these things is death. And
thus, the power of sin over us being broken, and it
having no more the dominion over us that it once had,
but the dominion being transferred to our new man,
we are created in righteousness and true holiness.
Thus, walking, not in obedience to the flesh but to the
spirit, we are enabled to fulfil the righteous precepts
of the law, in a manner such as, by all the terrors of
the law, we never could have been made to do.
When, however, I thus speak of a christian's fulfil¬
ment of the law, I do not speak of a sinless fulfil¬
ment of it. I do, hoM'ever, speak of an actual, visible
predominance of the disposition to obey the law of
God, over the disposition to obey our sinful passions
and appetites. The Bible always supposes the best
personal righteousness of good men to be imperfect,
both from intellectual darkness and moral frailty. It
views pious men as liable to sin, as frequently sinning,
and as at all times needing the guardian influences of
2
10
the Holy Spirit. But, notwithstanding all this, it
does full steadfastly assert, that the disposition to
obey God is the predominating principle with a chris¬
tian man. Know ye not, that to whom ye yield
yourselves servants to obey, his servants ye are whom
ye obey, whether of sin unto death, or of obedience
unto righteousness ? And again saith the apostle in the
words succeeding those of the text. For they that are
after the flesh do mind ,that is, affect, desire, are pleas¬
ed with, the things of the flesh; and they that are
after the spirit, the things of the spirit.
It is scarcely necessary here to add that I speak of
this obedience, neither as a meritorious cause of jus¬
tification, nor as any cause of justification whatever.
It is in the scriptures abundantly declared, as I have
before remarked, that the death of Christ is the only
cause of our justification. I speak of it and of the
necessity of it to our salvation, as a fact which God
has revealed, without in this place connecting it with
any thing else. The disposition to obey the will of
God, so far as he knows it, is the controlling disposi¬
tion of a christian. In this sense, therefore, is the
righteousness of the law fulfilled in him. And the
apostle abundantly shows, in the 6th chapter of this
epistle, that, if this be not the case with us, we are
no christians.
II. Some important views of divine truth seem
intimately connected with^the preceding discussion.
To these, permit me, in the second place, to direct
your attention.
1. The sentiment of the text presents us with the
striking contrast between the condition of the race
of man under the law and under the gospel.
11 *
The law reveals the will of God with its reward
and its penalty. Upon every one who obeyed it, it
would have conferred an unalterable title to the favor
of God. But having been broken, as we have shown,
and being, from the very nature of the Lawgiver,
immutable, it could now do no more than preadmonish
us of the wrath to come. And yet more, in conse¬
quence of breaking it, an effect is produced upon our
own moral nature. A disposition to break it habitu¬
ally, and a love for what it forbids, have obtained a
fatal ascendency over us. The very fountain of our
obedience has thus become corrupt. We love sin,
and we do not love God. The law therefore can do
nothing but foretell our doom. Now, we know that
what things soever the law «saith, it saith to those
that are under the law, that every mouth may be
stopped, and all the world may become guilty before
God. Therefore, by the deeds of the law shall no
flesh be justified in his sight : for by the law is the
knowledge of sin. Considered thus, in respect to
the law, therefore, there remained for our race noth¬
ing but the fearful looking for of judgment which
must devour the adversary. Thus are we shut up
unto the faith.
Now, the gospel presents the only way of escape
for us in this otherwise hopeless case. It represents
a provision made to meet both of these exigencies.
In the first place, we are assured that by the sacrifice
of Christ the law is magnified and made honorable.
God can now be just and the justifier of him that be-
lieveth. But were this all, the work would still be
imperfect. Of what use would be pardon to one still
12
under the dominion of sin, the slavq^of every guil¬
ty passion and unholy lust. There is still a neces¬
sity for some provision tvhich shall awaken man to
righteousness and deliver him from the thraldom of
his sinful propensities. And, behold, all this is done
in the gospel. The glorious manifestation of his
love to man, which God has made in the atonement
of Jesus Christ, when beheld by faith, and by this I
mean, contemplated exactly as it is, subdues the re¬
bellious spirit and softens the heart into contrition.
Against such love as this, when seen exactly as it is,
the man can hold out no longer. For the first time
in his life, he feels that he does not want to sin any
more against such infinite goodness, and compassion,
and holiness. The breath of spiritual life is breath¬
ed into him. He puts forth the first successful resist¬
ance to the sin that dwelleth in him. He is made
free from sin, and is become the servant of God.
Henceforth, he has his fruit unto holiness and the end
everlasting life. If any man be in Christ, he is a
new creature ; old things are passed away, behold all
things are become new.
Let it not be said that by these remarks we ex¬
clude the necessity of the operation of the Holy
Spirit. Exactly the contrary. The scriptures repre¬
sent the Holy Spirit as the efficient agent of every
thing good within us, and they also refer us to the
means by which this agency is accomplished. Thus
saith the Saviour, sanctify them hy thy truth. It is
said, he (that is the Comforter) shall take of the things
of mine and show them unto you. Now it is these very
things of Christ, specially the truth of his atonement
13
for sin, and of pardon through his sacrifice, that the
Holy Spirit uses as the means of working a renewing
and sanctifying effect upon the soul.
You see, then, that, under the law, our whole race
was doomed to immitigated wrath, for it is written,
cursed is he that continueth not in all the things
written in the book of the law to do them. On the
contrary, the gospel proclaims that the law is now
magnified and made honorable, and to our whole race
it declares that, though all have sinned and come
short of the glory of God, yet we may now all be
justified freely by his grace, through the redemption
that is in Christ Jesus. The law was utterly unable
to create within us any power either to obey its pre¬
cepts, or to gain a victory over the sin that had ensla¬
ved us. Hence under the law we were lying in utter
moral helplessness, dead in trespasses and sins. The
gospel, on the contrary, spreads before the whole
human race the sovereign remedy for our disease.
As Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so
is the Son of Man lifted up, that whosoever be-
lieveth in him should not perish, but have everlasting
life. The very fact which it reveals, when suitably
contemplated, infuses a moral vigor into the soul by
which it rises superior to the thraldom of its lusts,
and stands forth in all the loveliness and all the dignity
of a new creature in Christ Jesus. If the Son shall
make you free, ye shall be free indeed.
You see, then, how emphatically is it true that all
things are ready. Salvation is now as free to the
human race as condemnation. If any man perish
now, he has no being to blame but himself. The
14
throne of God is now a mercy seat. God is reconci¬
ling the world unto himself, not imputing their tres¬
passes unto them. I Jesus have sent mine angel to
testify unto you these things in the churches. I am
the root and offspring of David, and the bright and
morning star. And the spirit and the bride say come.
And let him that heareth say come. And let him
that is athirst come. And whosoever will, let him come
and take of the water of life freely.
I cannot conclude this topic of the discourse with¬
out one other remark. From what has been said, I
think it must be already obvious that all this change in
the nature of our relations with God ; all this transition
from a state of hopeless condemnation, to a state in
which reconciliation with God is full, free and abund¬
ant, all this possibility of pardon and sanctification
comes through the death, sufferings and mediation of
the Lord Jesus Christ. I have mentioned the condition
in which the Bible represents us to be, considered sim¬
ply in relation to the law. Now, the race of man ei¬
ther is in this state of helpless sin and condemnation, or
it is not. If it be, then there is no hope for any of our
race, and nothing awaits us but the blackness of dark¬
ness forever. But if the race of man be not in this
state of helpless condemnation, if there be any way of
salvation for us which does not depend upon the per¬
fection of our own righteousness, whence has arisen
the change ? The attributes of God have not faltered.
The law of God has not been abrogated. The
character of sin has not changed. No other event
but the sacrifice of Christ has occurred which could
have affected our relations wdth God. All things
15
else remain as they were from the beginning. Here
then is the only hope of ruined, lost man. If God
have not sent his Son as a sin offering, the condition
of our race is utterly and absolutely hopeless. But
it is a faithful saying and worthy of all acceptation,
that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners.
God hath set forth Christ Jesus to be a propitiation,
through faith in his blood, to declare his righteous¬
ness (clemency) in the remission of sins that are past,
through the forbearance of God, to declare, I say, at
this time, his righteousness, that He might be just
and the justifier of him that believeth in Jesus.
Secondly. The sentiment of the text and the
doctrines connected with it, illustrate, with sufficient
clearness, the distinction between preaching the law
and preaching the gospel.
To preach the law is to proclaim the rule which
God has given for our conduct, with its reward and
its penalty. And it matters not in what manner this
is done ; if the precept alone be the burden of our
preaching, we are ministers of the law. We may
set it forth enforced by all the terrors of the eternal
judgment, or by the milder motives derived from
present interest and cultivated taste ; we may stern¬
ly expound the immutable moral precept, or we may
eloquently descant upon its philosophy and exhibit its
coincidence with the universe around us ; from amid
the thunderings and lightnings of Sinai, we may ut¬
ter the commandments of Moses, or from the top of
Olivet, repeat the sermon of Jesus Christ ; if the
characteristic trait of our preaching be merely the
practice of the precept, we are strictly and truly
16
ministers of the law. Ail this might have been
done, and done equally well, had Jesus Christ never
appeared to do away sin by the sacrifice of himself.
On the contrary, the characteristic trait of the
preaching of the gospel, consists, not in merely tell¬
ing us of our danger, but in making this subsidiary to
an exhibition of the great plan of salvation by Christ.
And yet more, it not only tells us what we must do,
it habitually presents before us that stupendous exhi¬
bition of the love of God, which, above all others, h
designed to endow us with a moral power to obey.
' To preach the gospel is not merely to offer to every
creature the salvation which Christ has purchased, but
also to present the love of God in sending his son, and
the love of Christ in dying for us, and the astonish¬
ing benefits which he offers to confer upon us, as well
as the awful condemnation from which he offers to
rescue us, as the motives which should urge us to ac¬
cept of this salvation. Unless we do this, we may be
skilful expounders of the law, we may be good ethical
philosophers, but, are we preachers of the gospel
Nor let it be said that, by thus preaching the gospel,
we set aside the law and open the door to licentious¬
ness. It is not so, if we preach the gospel as Paul
preached it. No one ever more strenuously asserted
the doctrine of justification through the merits of
another ; and surely no one more solemnly or more
intrepidly proclaimed the absolute 'necessity of per¬
sonal holiness to every one who hoped to be justifi¬
ed. Besides, the law may evidently be preached
without preaching the gospel; but the reverse of
this is not true. The law makes a part of the gos-
17
pel, but the gospel makes no part of the law. The
gospel tells us how we may be saved from the curse
of the law ; it must, therefore, tell us what that curse
is and the consequences to us, if we are not saved
from it. You may tell a man of his danger, without
telling him how to avoid it, but you can scarcely tell
him how to avoid a danger, without telling him what
the danger is.
And thirdly. Hence you see why the ministers of
Christ should be preachers of the gospel, in distinc¬
tion from being preachers of the law. 1 st. Christ has
not commissioned us as preachers of the law, but as
preachers of the gospel. 2d. Only by preaching the
gospel can we hope to produce the great end which
our ministry has in view.
I. Christ has not commissioned us as preachers of
the law, but as preachers of the gospel. The law
has but one announcement, he that doe th these things
shall live by them. Cursed is every man that continu-
eth not in all things written in the book of the law to
do them. The righteousness that is of faith, on the
contrary, speaketh on this wise, the word is nigh thee,
even in thy mouth and in thy heart, that if thou shalt
confess with thy mouth the Lord Jesus, and shalt be¬
lieve in thine heart that God hath raised him from the
dead, thou shalt be saved. For the scripture saith,
whosoever helieveth on him shall not be ashamed. And
thus, in the words of our ascending Redeemer, we are
commissioned. Go ye into all the world and preach
the gospel to every creature. He that helieveth and is
baptized shall be saved, he that helieveth not shall be
damned. Now then, said the apostle, we are ambas-
3
18
sadors for Christ, as though God did beseech you by us,
we pray you, in Christ's stead, be ye reconciled unto
God. Such, then, being our glorious privilege, such
our message of surpassing mercy, shall we exchange
the ministration of the spirit for the ministration of
death ; the ministration of righteousness, (clemency)
for the ministration of condemnation.
II. As I have said, nothing but the preaching of
the gospel can accomplish the object which the minis¬
ter of Christ has in view.
The object of the teacher of religion is, by the pro¬
duction of a moral change and by the cultivation of the
soul in holiness, to prepare men for heaven. These
effects will be produced as we awaken or increase in
men, hatred to sin, and love to God.
1. Hatred to sin. The law can do no more than
proclaim the guilt and set before us the penalty of
transgression. It may terrify us with the consequen¬
ces of sin, but it can work no change in the affections.
It may occasionally restrain from the commission of
sin, but it has no power to render sin itself odious,
and, until this be done, the moral nature of the man
is unchanged. The gospel, on the contrary, whilst
it asserts that the law is holy and the commandment
holy, and just, and good, presents to us the spectacle
of the Son of God offering himself up as a propitiation
for our sins. It tells us of the Word who was in the
beginning with God ; who was God, without whom
was not any thing made that was made, assuming our
nature, bearing our infirmities, receiving the stroke
that must have smitten us to perdition, and thus by
his own blood obtaining eternal redemption for us.
19
Before, we saw the evil of sin only in the terrors of
the penalty with which it threatened us ; now, we see
it in the fact that nothing less than such an atone¬
ment, by such an High Priest, could have rendered
our ransom possible. If any thing can, with empha¬
sis, exhibit to us the odiousness of sin, it is the
spectacle of such a Saviour suffering, that sinners,
such as we, might hope for pardon.
Equally powerful is the gospel, in awakening and
exciting our love to God. The law reveals Jehovah
in all the majesty, but it is also in all the terrors of
justice. He is holy, and just, and good, but all that
holiness, and justice, and goodness are set in array
against me, for I am a rebel against him. The gospel,
on the contrary, represents all these attributes magni¬
fied, while, as a returning penitent, I may be pardon¬
ed. God is reconciling the world unto himself by
Christ Jesus, not imputing their trespasses unto them.
It is God, the King eternal, immortal and invisible,
having given up his well beloved Son unto the death
for us, and having removed every obstacle on His part
to our pardon, and having sent his spirit to renew and
sanctify us, after all this, humbling himself to conform
to our weakness, to use our language, and by every
motive which the most moving tenderness could sug¬
gest, beseeching us to accept of the pardon and the
eternal life which He had so dearly purchased for us ;
and when rejected, insulted and despised, again and
again beseeching us in the accents of the most affec¬
tionate endearment, and with all the yearning of an
aggrieved parent, saying unto us. Return, ye backslid¬
ing children, for I am married unto you. How shall
20
I give thee up, Ephraim, how shall I deliver thee,
Israel, how shall I make thee as Admah, how shall I
set thee as Zeboim. Mine heart is turned within me,
my repentings are kindled together. Ah, my brethren,
it is such exhibitions as these that soften the heart in¬
to contrition, and draw out the soul in gratitude to
God. When all this is contemplated in simple verity,
not even the rebellious spirit of man can withstand it.
He is melted into repentance. He cannot any more
sin against such holy, aggrieved, abused, infinite long
suffering. The love of God is shed abroad in his heart,
through the Holy Ghost that is given him. Truly,
my brethren, the moral power of the Bible resides in
the simple, earnest, affectionate exhibition of the love
of God in the cross of Jesus Christ. To this the Apostle
Paul alludes, in his memorable prayer for his beloved
brethren at Ephesus. For this cause, I bow my knees
unto the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, of
whom the whole family in heaven and earth is nam¬
ed, that He would give you, according to the riches of
his glory, to be strengthened with might by his spirit
in the inner man, that Christ may dwell in your hearts
by faith, that ye, being rooted and grounded in love,
may be able to comprehend, with all saints, what is
the length and the breadth, and the depth and the
height, and to know the love of Christ that passeth
knowledge, that ye might be filled with all the full¬
ness of God.
2. Not only is it thus evident from the nature of the
human mind, that the exhibition of the love of God in
the sacrifice of Christ, is the means best adapted to pro¬
duce moral transformation, it is equally evident, from
21
the New Testament that this is the means specially
designed by God for this very purpose. To establish
this point, a very few passages will suffice.
2 Cor. 5 : 21. For he hath made him to be sin (a
sin offering) for us, who himself knew no sin, that we
might be made the righteousness of God (righteous
before God) through him.
1 Peter 2 í 24. Who himself bare our sins in his
own body on the tree, that we being dead to sin
should live unto righteousness ; by whose stripes ye
are healed. For ye were as sheep going astray, but
are now returned unto the Shepherd and Bishop of
your souls. Col. 1 : 22, 23. And you who were some¬
times alienated and enemies in your mind by wicked
works, yet now, hath he reconciled in the body of
his flesh through death (by dying in our nature) to
present you holy and unblamable and unreprovable in
his sight. Thus also in the words of the text, which
I will give here in their natural order, that the sen¬
timent which they contain may be more clearly seen.
God sent his Son, in the likeness of sinful flesh, as a
sin offering, to do what the law could not do (inas¬
much as it was weak through the flesh,) that is, de¬
stroy the power of sin in the flesh, so that we, who
walk not after the flesh but after the spirit, might
fulfil the righteous precepts of the law.
On these passages, I need not enlarge. They
however, present, in few words, what the Scriptures
elsewhere abundantly confirm, that the sacrifice of
Christ is the great cause, not only of our justification,
but also of our sanctification. This, then, is the exhibi¬
tion which God would have us present before men,
in order to accomplish his most merciful purpose.
22
3. Again, the preaching of the gospel, or of pardon
by the death of Christ, is the means which, above
every other, God has alioays blessed for accomplishing
the great end of the christian ministry.
it was so in the times of the apostles. You all
know the success which attended their ministry-
Thousands were converted by the preaching of a
single sermon. Cities and Provinces- were made
obedient to the faith, until, within a few years after
the death of Christ, multitudes of converts filled ev¬
ery part of the Roman empire. And what was the
distinguishing feature of their preaching ? Repent,
said Peter, on the day of Pentecost, and be baptized,
every one of you, in the name of Jesus Christ, for
the remission of sins, for the promise is unto you and
your children and to all that are afar off. But let
the apostle to the Gentiles answer for the rest. We
preach Christ crucified, to the Jews a stumbling block,
and to the Greeks foolishness, but to you who are
called, both Jews and Greeks, Christ the power of
God and Christ the wisdom of God. Again, saith
he, I, brethren, when I came to you, came not with
excellency of speech or of wisdom, declaring unto you
the testimony of God; for I determined not to
know any thing among you, save Jesus Christ and
him crucified. Paul was an erudite man. He was
an eloquent man. He was a most acute and pro¬
found logician. Splendid opportunity for the exercise
of all these talents might have been found, in enforc¬
ing the ethics of the gospel, and thence he might have
brought many a convincing demonstration to bear
upon the consciences of the learned and accomplish¬
ed citizens of Corinth. And more than this. The
23
author of the epistle to the Romans was formed by
nature to cope with the ablest of the Heathen Phi¬
losophers. In possession of the superior advantages
for moral reasoning which Christianity had conferred
upon him, there was not one of them, whom in the
fair field of argument, he could not have met and
vanquished. All this he could have done. But none
of this did he do. The subject of his preaching was
not even Jesus Christ in his meekness, or his wisdom,
or his sublimity, or his eloquence, but it was Jesus Christ
and him crucified. And this was his theme every
where. He was full of it on every occasion. We
know what was the effect of his preaching thus, and
we have reason to believe that his success would have
been every different, had that preaching been different.
Nor has the case altered from that day to this.
The heart of man is still the same, and what was pow¬
erful to affect it then, will be powerful to affect it now.
Whether among civilized or among savage men, the
result has been every where the same. Whenever and
wherever the love of God in Christ Jesus has been
preached in simplicity and sincerity, then and there
have been produced the most salutary effects upon the
moral character of man. I know not how I can in
any other way illustrate this remark so appropriately,
as by referring to the experience of the Moravian Mis¬
sionaries as it has been, of late, eloquently set before
you by a distinguished clergyman* of this city.
" For five years after the Moravian Mission to
Greenland was established, the missionaries confined
themselves to teaching the heathen the " being and
* Rev. Dr. Wisner, in his Sermon before the Society for propagating the
Gospel, pp. 19,22. r r-o b
24
character of God, the creation of the world, the fail of
man, and the requirements of the divine law." And
what was the result of this teaching, after it had
been continued with an assiduity, fidelity and pa¬
tience which have never been surpassed ? Why noth¬
ing, absolutely nothing. The Brethren were reviled,
insulted, pelted with stones, their goods were seized,
shattered to pieces, and they were even threatened
with death.
" About the close of this period, some Southlanders
happened to visit the Brethren as one of them was
writing out a fair copy of a translation of the gospel.
They were curious to know what was in the book,
and on hearing read the history of Christ's agony in
the garden, one of the savages named Kaiarnak
stepped up to the table and, in an earnest, affecting
manner, said, how was that ? Tell me it once
more for I also would fain be saved. These words,
the like of which the missionary had never heard
from the lips of a Greenlander, penetrated his whole
soul, so that the tears rolled down his cheeks, while
he gave an account of the life and death of Christ,
and of the plan of salvation through him, describing
with more than ordinary force and energy, his suffer¬
ings in the garden and on the cross. The savages
listened with fixed attention ; some of them request¬
ing that they might be taught to pray, and when the
missionaries did pray with them, they repeated their
expressions so that they might not forget them.—
And on leaving, they said they would come again and
hear of those things. And from that period, Kaiar¬
nak made frequent visits to the brethren, and at
25
length took up his residence with them, and afteir
about a year, giving a satisfactory evidence of a work
of grace on his heart, he was received into the
church."
"As yet however, the missionaries had made no defi¬
nite change in their method of instructing the peo¬
ple. Soon Kaiarnak left them to return to his coun¬
trymen in the south. After about a year's absence,
he returned, to their unspeakable joy, bringing with
him a brother and his family, and saying that all that
he had heard from the missionaries he had made
known to his countrymen." He had thus by merely
relating what he had known become a more success¬
ful preacher than his teachers. They saw the im¬
port of his admonition. " They henceforth directed
the attention of their people, in the first instance, to
Christ Jesus, his incarnation, his life and especially
his sufiferings and death." And this method of
preaching was attended with immediate success.—
Say they, " It illuminated their darkened understand¬
ings, melted their stubborn hearts, and kindled in
their cold icy breasts the flame of spiritual life."—
The news of this change in their mode of preaching,
and of the different effect which resulted from it
were soon made known among the other missionary
stations, and corresponding consequences ensued.—
And now the recorded testimony of these indefatiga¬
ble and most successful laborers in converting the
heathen is, that experience has taught them, that
in attempting to propagate Christianity among the
heathen, little is effected by beginning with the prin¬
ciples of natural religion, as the existence of God,
4
26
the perfection of his nature, or the duties of morality,
in order to prepare them for receiving the gospel,
and that after many year's trial in different countries,
and under every variety of circumstances, they have
found that the simple testimony of the sufferings and
death of Christ, delivered by a missionary possessed
of an experienced sense of his love, is the most cer¬
tain and the most effectuai method of converting the
heathen."*
"And now, listen to the individual testimony of one
of their most remarkable converts. He was a North
American Indian. When the missionary came to his
tribe, he was," says the history, "the greatest drunkard
in the whole town, he was quite outrageous in sin,
and had even rendered himself a cripple by his de¬
baucheries. But soon he was remarkably and per¬
manently changed. The drunkard had learned to be
sober ; and the man who was as savage as a bear had
become as mild and peaceful as a lamb. He after¬
wards gave the brethren the following simple and in¬
structive account of his conversion. 'I, said he, have
been a heathen, and have grown old among the
heathen, therefore, I know how the heathen think.—
Once a preacher came and began to tell us that there
was a God. We answered him, saying, Dost thou
think us so ignorant as not to know that. Go back
to the place from whence thou camest. Then an¬
other preacher came to us and began to say, you
* Brown s History of Missions, pp. 107,109- " It is proper, however, to re¬
mark that though the brethren make the death of Christ the grand subject of
their preaching to the heathen, they by no means confine their instruction to
this particular point. There is no part of divine truth, whether of a doctrinal
or practical nature, but what they endeavor by degrees to instil into the minds
of their converts.'* ®
27
must not steal, nor lie, nor get drunk. To him we
answered, thou fool dost thou think that we do not
know that. Learn, first, thyself, and then teach
thine own people to leave off these practices, for who
steal, or lie, or are more drunken than the white
men ? Thus we dismissed him. After some time.
Brother Rauch (the Moravian Missionary) came into
my hut and sat down by me. He then spoke to me
as follows. I am come to you in the name of the
Lord of heaven and earth. He sends me to let you
know that he will make you happy, and deliver you
from that misery in tvhich you at present lie. For
this purpose, he became a man, gave his life a ransom,
and shed his blood for you. When he had finished
his discourse, he laid down on a board, fatigued with
his journey, and fell into a sound sleep. 1 then
thought, what kind of a man is this ? There he
sleeps, I might kill him and throw him into the
wood and who would regard it ? But this gives him
no care or concern. At the same time, I could not
forget his words. They constantly recurred to my'
mind. Even when I slept, I dreamed of the blood
which Christ shed for us. I found this to be some¬
thing very different from what I had ever heard be¬
fore, and I interpreted brother Ranch's words to the
other Indians. Thus, through the grace of God, an
awakening began amongst us. Brethren, preach
Christ our Saviour, his sufferings and death, if you
would have your words gain entrance among the
heathen."
So numerous and so cogent, my brethren, are the
reasons why a religious teacher urider the New Tes-
28
tament should be a preacher of the gospel, and not
a preacher of the law. It only remains that I close
this already protracted discussion by two brief re¬
flections.
1. The text declares that Jesus came to do for
us what the law could not do ; "destroy the power of
sin within us, that we might fulfil the righteous pre¬
cepts of the law." All of us who have professed the
christian religion suppose ourselves in a state of sal¬
vation, that is, that we have a valid title to the bless¬
ings purchased by the death of Christ. Now, the
text declares that if this title be valid, the reigning
power of sin is destroyed, and that we do, in sincer¬
ity, keep the righteous precepts of the law. ■ Here
then is a sure test of our Christianity. How is it
with us ? Let us bring our lives to this trial. When
our passions command one thing and God commands
another, which do we obey ? When the love of the
world commands one thing, and the love of Christ
commands another, which do we obey? When
pride commands one thing, and God another, which
do we obey ? When the love of ease commands one
thing, and the love of souls another, which do we
obèy ? When the love of human applause commands
one things, and Christ commands another, which do
we obey ? Brethren, it is from the answers to such
questions as these that we may learn whether we are
or are not interested in the blessings purchased by the
ofiering up of Jesus Christ.
2. Brethren in the ministry, are we not in dan¬
ger of losing sight of the practical importance of these
truths. While we steadfastly believe in Jesus
Christ and Him crucified, may we not be preachers
29
of the law. There is a beauty and a symmetry in
thé ethics of the gospel, there is an adaptedness to
the situation and wants of man in all the moral laws
of God, which afford a most delightful and profitable,
field for intellectual research, and which may frequent¬
ly enable us to surround our discourses with all the
splendor of a moral demonstration. We may thus
awaken inquiry and silence objection ; we may estab¬
lish much that is true and put to shame much that is
false ; and, so far as it goes, all this is well. But let
us remember that if this be all ; if the distinguishing
feature of our preaching be the ethics of the gospel,
the system of duties revealed in the Bible, then
the distinguishing feature of it is not Jesus Christ
and Him crucified ; and we are not in this sense
preachers of the gospel. And I make this remark
the more willingly, because this is considered by many
persons in a peculiar sense an intellectual age, and
the simple epithet intellectual is, as a term of com¬
mendation, made to stand, in religious matters, for
very much more than it is worth. Hence we are liable,
unconsciously, to find ourselves presenting habitually
those truths which address the understanding in the
place of those which address the conscience, and of
presenting those which address the conscience rather
as matters of controversy than as motives to holiness.
May God grant that none of us may ever err in this
manner. But, in simplicity and sincerity, without
the fear of man but in the fear of God, without waver¬
ing and without controversy, may we all determine to
know nothing among men, but Jesus Christ and Him
crucified. Amen.
30
Boston, March 2, 1831.
Gentlemen,
I have received your note requesting of me "a copy
of the Index to the passages of scripture read, at the Installatioa
of Rev. William Hague." I am not absolutely certain, but I
think the 1. Cor. 2 Chap. 1 a 5 verses inclusive,
Titus 2d Chapter,
1. Tim. 4 Chap. 13 a 16 verses inclusive
and the 12th verse,
were the portions of scripture which I read, and in the order here
laid down.
Yours, &c.
D. SHARP.
To Messrs. John K. Simpson, Y
John Sullivan, f
Darius Boardman, > Committee.
Joseph Urann, i
S. G. Shipley, j
RIGHT HAND OF FELLOWSHIP.
by rev. mr. knowles.
In presenting the Right Hand of Fellowship, the Rev. Mr.
Knowles thus eloquently addressed Mr. Hague :—
3Ti/ Dear Brother,—By the service which I have now the
pleasure to perform, at the request and on behalf of the Council,
we pretend not to add to the validity of your commission as a min¬
ister of Jesus Christ ; hut rather we testify our full persuasion,
that the Head of the Church himself has moved you by His Spirit,
and constrained you by his love, to become his ambassador to men,
and has written His own commission on the fleshly tables of your
heart. We profess not to give any additional sanction to your
character, as a recognized Minister of the gospel ; but we thus
signify our confidence, that the hands of the presbytery have been
worthily placed upon your head. We presume not to ratify the
union between you and this Church and Society ; but we thus
publicly express our pleasure that the connexion has been formed,
and our hope that it will be a permanent source of joy and benefit
to yourself and to them.
31
The offer of the right hand needs not words, certainly not many
words, to explain it. It is its own interpreter. It is nature's instinc¬
tive sign, among men, savage and civilized, pagan and christian.
Religion has adopted and hallowed it, as the symbol of affection,
as the token of confidence, and as the pledge of co-operation. As
such, my brother, we offer it to you on this occasion.
We offer it as a symbol of our affection, towards you, as a
Christian brother, to whom our hearts are drawn by that cord of
love, which binds together the disciples of our Lord ; as a partak¬
er of like precious faith, as a sharer in the same glorious hopes, as
a fellow heir to the same unfading inheritance.
We offer it as a token of our confidence in your piety ; in the
purity of your principles ; in your firm attachment to the doctrines
of Christ and him crucified ; and in your determination to perse¬
vere until death, in your endeavours to persuade men to be recon¬
ciled to God, through Jesus Christ our Lord. As a proof of this
confidence, we welcome you as the Pastor of this ancient Church,
because we believe, that while you will cultivate a liberal charity
towards all who love our Lord Jesus Christ in sincerity, you will
hold dear the purity and peace of our own churches, and will en¬
deavour to perpetuate that delightful harmony which now binds
these churches together as a band of brothers. We welcome you
to this city of pilgrims, because we believe that you will steadily
uphold those great principles, which those pilgrims loved better than
home, and country, and life itself. We welcome you to this city,
which has unhappily won a bad eminence as a focus of error, be¬
cause we rely on your aid in contending, with affection and firm¬
ness, for the faith once delivered to the saints, against the muster¬
ing and clamorous hosts of infidelity and sin. We welcome you
to this city, which has entitled itself to the honourable distinction
of being one of the centres of evangelical effort, because we know
that your heart is deeply concerned in the prosperity of Missions ;
that you will promote the good cause of Education ; that you will
feel a filial interest in the welfare of our beloved institution at
Newton ; that you will be the steady and zealous friend of Bible
and Tract Societies, of Sabbath Schools, and of every good de¬
sign for the happiness and salvation of men.
We offer it as a pledge of co-operation. We know something
of the arduousness of the duties which you are now assuming ;
and here, in the presence of our Master and many of his children.
33
do we pledge ourselves to be fellow labourers in this good cause.
We will aid you with our services and our counsel. Though ene¬
mies may assail you, in us you will find friends.—^Though your
heart may sometimes sink within you, under the pressure of those
toils and cares, which every minister, even the most successful and
beloved, must experience, in our affectionate sympathy you will
find a solace. And our prayers shall ascend to God for you and
for ourselves, that He will let his work appear unto his servants,
and establish the work of our hands upon us.
As a symbol of our affection, then, as a token of our confidence,
and as a pledge of our co-operation, accept, dear brother, on be¬
half of the Council, and of the Churches which we represent,
this right hand of fellowship. We offer it to you, assured that you,
on your part, cherish towards us the same affection, that you feel
the same confidence, and will ever yield the same co-operation.
May God bless you, and make you a blessing to this Church and
to this community ; may He enable you here to preach his gospel
till this hand, now warm with youth and vigour, shall be palsied
with age, or be cold in death ; may many souls be the trophies of
His grace communicated through your ministry ; and when your
service on earth shall have terminated, may you and they be gath¬
ered among the jewels which shall shine forever in our Saviour's
diadem.
ADDRESS TO THE PASTOR.
by rev. mr. m.4lc0m.
The Address to Mr. H.vgue, by the Rev. Mr. Malcom, not
having been written, it is inserted as reported in the Christian
Watchman ; revised by Mr. M.
I. He affectionately warned him of the embarrassments attend¬
ant on the pastoral office in a great city ; advising him to expect,
and to be prepared for, difficulties of every sort. He would some¬
times be discouraged from known personal infirmity, from want of
success, by opposition, and by neglect. He would find difficulties
arising from the variety of tempers, tastes, opinions and prejudices
with which he would have to deal. The obstinate and ignorant
are to be convinced ; those who are dull, both in nature and reli¬
gion, are to be aroused; the fierce,heady, and high-minded are to
33
be repressed. The strong holds of error are to be beaten down ;
difficult cases of conscience to be solved ; and various other duties
to be performed which if not done with wisdom and all diligence,
will miscarry.
II. He counselled the Pastor to regard jpreacÄing' as his high¬
est and noblest work. To this he was specially called above all
others, and by it distinguished from all other men. He must
labour to excel in the work ; to be rich and various in matter, fer¬
vent and chaste in manner, and intelligible to all. The great
points of faith are to be so treated, and so frequently adduced, as
that the people may be settled in their truth.
HI. The flock must be visited, "take heed unto alt the
flock," &.C. Acts XX. 28. Such a course would benefit both him¬
self and his people. He would learn human nature, the condition
of the congregation, the kind of subjects to preach upon, and how
to treat them. To the people such visits would be incalculably
useful. Duty would be enforced on individuals, application of it
identified, and instruction be familiary given. This visiting should
be done by system. The families should be visited in regular or¬
der, and if possible, as often as twice a year. The Pastor should
show no partiality in this duty, nor have a habit of lounging at any
particular places. The sick, the bereft, the tried, the distressed,
the awakened, &.c. are to be seen as often as possible. This plan
must not be abandoned from complaints, often only intended as a
compliment, and often made by those whom no frequency would
satisfy, and who desire to be visited, not so much from a wish to
be improved, as to gratify pride and vanity.
IV. Catechetical instruction for the young was urged ; and it
was contended that no attention by members of the Church to Bi¬
ble Classes and Sunday Schools, could exonerate the Pastor from
his duty in this respect.
V. The Pastor should study excellence and variety in the mode
of administering the Gospel ordinances, especially the Lord's Sup¬
per.
VI. Intercourse with ministering brethren must be judicious,
modestly bold, temperate and frank.—The greater success of oA-
ers should cause no envy. Why should a man feel, that praise
given to another is taken from him 1 Why be displeased that our
Master's work is well done Î The extending of a generous con¬
fidence to other denominations was encouraged, as well as the
5
34
banishing of all unfounded jealousies. Young ministers are to
be encouraged, and counselled.
VII. Mr. M. urged the devotional reading of the holy Scrip¬
tures, daily and largely. To study the Bible officially, was consid¬
ered a snare. It should be read with prayer ; for devotional pur¬
poses, to solve doubts, to come at truth, to be wise in discipline, to
be rich in administering consolations, and ready to foil cavillers.
Acquaintance with the word of God, will give correctness and
perspicuity to sermons,—it will enrich our prayers,—and will make
us happily familiar with the spirit of the great Pattern of the Chris¬
tian religion, Jesus Christ.
VIII. Among the graces which adorn the minister of the gos¬
pel, humility must occupy the chief place. He must be " clothed
with humility," and be an example of its excellence. It will be
the means of personal comfort, a great help to usefulness, and an
example to others, of which there is now especial necessity.
Finally. The young Pastor was charged to keep in constant
remembrance, approaching death. By this his zeal would be
quickened, his plans sobered, his piety enhanced, his grief as¬
suaged, his church building regulated and prayerfulness secured.
It would give time its right estimate, and impart energy and affec¬
tion to all his labors.
ADDRESS TO THE CHURCH.
BY KEV. MR. GRAFTON.
My Brethren, of this church and congregation, it devolves on
me to address you on this solemn, pleasing, and interesting occa¬
sion. I have for more than forty years, been acquainted with
your Pastors and your history. For eighteen years I was in the
habits of intimacy with your venerated Stillman. At his funeral
I officiated. When his successor Mr. Clay was installed, I par¬
ticipated in the services and was present at his interment. When
his successor Mr. Winchell, was installed, I took part in the so¬
lemnities ; and when he was entombed, I also officiated at the
mournful scene. When his successor was ordained, I assisted in
the services of the day. And when your late pastor was installed,
I was present, and aided in the services of that occasion. I have
long witnessed your sorrows, and your joys ; your prosperity, and
35
your adversity ; and am now permitted to congratulate you on the
event which convenes us this evening.
This evening forms a new epoch in your history—may it prove
the commencement of your spiritual joy, and prosperity. The
sentiments contained in the following passage of scripture, 1 have
thought not inapplicable to your present circumstances—" And
we beseech you, brethren, to know them which labour among you,
and are over you in the Lord, and admonish you, and esteem them
very highly in love for their work's sake, and be at peace among
yourselves."
We beseech you—who 1 Paul, Silvanus, and Timotheus—we
cannot but admire the tender and affectionate language of this ho¬
ly Triumvirate. Paul under divine inspiration, dictated. They,
or one of them was his amanuensis, and both his coadjutors, in
sending this friendly epistle to the church—" We beseech you—
not we command you—We beseech you, brethren, to know them
which labour among you—know them as the messengers of God,
as the ministers of Christ, acknowledge their authority, and submit
to their admonition. A church should know the piety of their
pastor—they should know that he is a man of religion—a church
should know the doctrine their pastor intends to preach—they should
know his character, know that he has a good report of them who
are without. The work of the pastor is laborious—his duties are
many, and often trying—the church should know the duties and
work of their pastor, that they may by their prayers, their sympa¬
thies, and their affection, strengthen his hands, and encourage
his heart in the work of the Lord.
"And are over you in the Lord." A pastor is an overseer, a ru¬
ler in the church—he is not to Lord it over God's heritage ; hut
it is his duty to see that the laws of Christ in his church, are com¬
plied with, and so long as he sustains the pastoral office, he is to he
considered as the leader, or moderator in all church-meetings, "obey
them which have the rule over you." And it is added—" esteem
them very highly in love for their works sake." The pastoral office
is a high office—it is a holy office, it is an honorable office. It is an
office procured and appointed by the Lord Jesus Christ himself
when He ascended up on high, He gave "some Pastors." A pastor
is to he esteemed highly for the Lord's sake—he is to he esteemed
highly for his work's sake—he is to he " esteemed highly in love.
Here my dear brethren, is the great secret that unites and keeps
36
pastor and people together. When a pastor of a church obtains
evidence that he inherits the esteem and sincere affection of the
people of whom he is pastor, it increaseth and strengthens his love
for them, and when this affection is reciprocated, it forms a three¬
fold cord, which is not quickly broken.
"And be at peace among yourselves." Nothing more necessary—
nothing more important for the prosperity of a church, than to be
at peace among themselves. Then, all things go on smoothly, as
with wings and wind. Brethren, you will strive for the things
which make for peace, and things wherewith you may edify one
another—then will the God of love and peace be with you.
I am happy, my brethren, that my life has been prolonged to
witness what I do this evening. If my minutes and memory are
correct, this is the fifty-fourth Ordination and Installation, at which
I have ofiiciated, within 43 years, the period which I have resided
with my beloved flock. These services bring to my recollection the
ministers with whom I formerly associated on such occasions—
May I not exclaim—My Fathers where are they 1 Gone—gone
never to return; and many of my Junior Brethren, who were in the
ministry, sleep in dust. But having obtained of God, I continue
to this time, to witness these interesting transactions. It is, my
brethren, my fervent prayer, that the union now formed, may be
permanent and successful.
I have the pleasure of a personal acquaintance with your pastor,
and feel a confidence in his piety, and devotedness to the work of
the ministry : and that he will take heed to all the flock over
which the Holy Ghost hath made him overseer—For in ancient
times, the Holy Ghost was concerned in uniting a pastor and a
church.
And now, brethren, I commend you to God, and to the word of
His grace, which is able to build you up, and to give you an in¬
heritance among all them which are sanctified.
One word to this large and attentive auditory—My dear friends,
permit me to exhort you to be prepared to meet in that vast as¬
sembly, at that solemn day, when all must stand before the bar of
our God, and Judge. Many of your faces, it is probable, I never
saw before, and many may never see mine again—" My heart's
desire and prayer to God for you is, that you may be saved." With
these feelings, I bid you an affectionate—farewell.
THE PULPIT, AS A FIELD OF EXERTION, TALENT AND PIETT.
4
A
SERMON
DELIVERED AT THE INSTALLATION
OF TBE
REV. EDWARD B. HALL,
AS PASTOR
OP THE FIRST CONGREGATIONAL SOCIETY IN PROVIDENCE.
BY REV. ORVILLE DEWEY.
NEW-BEDFORD,
PRINTSD BY BENJAMIN LINDSEY.
1832.
SERMON.
PSALM XL. 9, 10.
1 HAVS PREACHED RIGHTEOUSNESS IN THE GREAT CONGREGATION
LO, I HAVE NOT REFRAINED MY LIPS, O., LORD, THOU KNOWEST. I
HAVE NOT HID THY RIGHTEOUSNESS WITHIN MY HEART ; I HAVE
DECLARED THY FAITHFULNESS AND THY SALVATION J I HAVE NOT
CONCEALED THY LOVING KINDNESS AND THY TRUTH FROM THE
GREAT CONGREGATION.
. SüCH is the feeling, with which every faithful minister
of religion, may look around him in the house of God. It
is a feeling, not only of conscious fidelity to his charge, but
of the greatness of that charge ; and this feeling helps to
give, in his mind, a peculiar, a more than literal meaning to
the phrase, "the great congregation." For although the
assembly be not, like this which is now gathered, numerous ;
although the place of religious solemnities be not,like this, a
finished or costly structure ; and although the temple ser¬
vice be ordered in the extreme simplicity of our Congrega¬
tional rites, yet, in connection with the solemn worship of
God, every thing is great ; the humblest abode of prayer is,
like Solomon's temple, " the beauty of holiness and the
smallest assembly is " the great congregation." But when
there comes, indeed, a multitude to the holy place ; when
we see no longer the naked temple, however beautiful ;
when man's work, curiously wrought, though it be, in wood
or stone, is hidden from our view, and we see only God's
work, the living and breathing multitude, the multitude of
4
them that keep holy time, the multitude of thoughtful men,
the great congregation of souls ; who that stands, though as
the humblest teacher, amidst the crowded throng, of the
young and the old, the strong and the weak, the joyous and
the sorrowful, can help trembling and exulting at the same
time, at the greatness of his sublime vocation ? Who can
help feeling that the place whereon he stands is holy
ground ; that the spot to which a thousand eyes are direct¬
ed for consolation, for guidance, and holy impulse, is a spot
where one of the noblest actions of life is to be performed,
where the noblest work is to be done, for time and for
eternity.
It is of this sphere of influence, my brethren, that I pro¬
pose on the present occasion, to speak. It is of the pulpit,
as a field for exertion, talent, virtue, piety, and usefulness.
I need not pause upon the question, whether David in
the text, spoke in his own person, or whether he spoke in
prophetic style, of our Saviour. It will be enough for all
present purposes, to say, that the oflice described in the
text is the office of public instruction—" I have preached
righteousness in the great congregation." I pass by all
considerations, for the present, but this general one. It ¡3
our duty, in ordinary discourse, to preach righteousness,
to preach about religion. I would take this opportunity,
though with the least possible claim to speak presumptu¬
ously on the subject—yet I would venture, on this occasion,
to preach about preaching?
What has it been ? And what has prevented it from being
all that could be desired?
What ought it to be ? What are its objects, and how are
they to be accomplished ?
These are the two general heads of inquiry that will
govern me, in what I have'to say upon this important and
interesting subject.
To the question, what has the pulpit been, I should answer
differently, as I conceived the meaning of the question to dif¬
fer. It has often been said, that the pulpit is dull. It has
grown into a kind of maxim, that preaching is a dull business.
A volume of pulpit discourses is by multitudes prejudged and
laid aside, as a dull book. A sermon—what idea does the
bare word convey—what idea does the very utterance of it
expressj as it has been commonly used among the worldly,
the gay, and the frivolous ? Listen to a man when he would
bring the strongest possible comparison against a dull book,
or a dull pamphlet—"Why, he says, he should as soon
think of reading a sermon."
Now, although it is my purpose in this discourse to admit,
nay, and to insist, that preaching may, and must be far more
powerful and arousing than it has been, yet to this irreligious
and contemptuous sort of objection, I shall reply by denying
its fairness. The implication is that preaching has been pe¬
culiarly dull; but of this implication I deny the fairness.
Preaching has been no more dull than any other kind of pub¬
lic speaking. There has been enough dull speaking in the
Legislature, at the bar, and in anniversary orations ; as much
proportionably as there has been in the pulpit. Proportion-
ably, I say ; for it is to be considered that there has been
twenty times as much preaching, as there has been speaking
in any other department. And of printed discourses the pro¬
portion of sermons to other public addresses, is probably not
less than a hundred to one. And these, too, come from the
mass of the clerical profession, and not as political speeches
that are printed, usually do, from a few distinguished leaders.
There may be, then, more in amount of dull sermons preached
and printed, than of any other kind of discourses, and yet
not more in proportion ; and therefore, the peculiar empha¬
sis laid upon the charge of dulnoss against the pulpit, may be
very unfair.
6
Thus much I think it proper to say, for justice to the cleri¬
cal profession, for the honor of religion, and by way of rea¬
sonable qualification to what 1 feel still obliged to admit ;
for it must be admitted, doubtless, and it cannot be too deep¬
ly felt, that, compared with what it might have been, and
ought to have been, the pulpit has been dull. It has not
fully answered to the call made upon it ; the call of circum¬
stances, the call of its own duties, the call and the commis¬
sion of heaven unto it. It has not spoken, yet, not com¬
monly at least, in the tone which befits its great communica¬
tions. The words whose import fill heaven with awe and
wonder, have fallen upon our ears in cold and dull accents;
and the themes which are to make the heart glow forever,
have been made to seem ordinary, indifferent, and wearisome.
The fire from heaven has sometimes, almost gone out, upon
the earthly altar. Even the feeling that has been manifested
in the pulpit has been too often, to a certam extent, artificial,
mechanical, and uninteresting ; it has been too often exhibit¬
ed in a false animation, and in vociferous and unnatural tones;
it has not been contagious feeling; it has not been altogether
the true feeling.
Why is it ? Why has the pulpit failed of the character so
obviously demanded of it ? Why, in other words, and es¬
pecially, has it been wanting in power? The question is
weighty and serious. The deficiency is lamentable. The
good that might be done by a powerful administration of the
word of God, is incalculable. Thousands and ten thousands
of congregations all over the christian world, are earnestly
craving it. Where, then, lies this secret of power ?
I answer in one word—^it lies m feeling. And the want of
power is mainly owing to the want of feeling. The great
and hnpressive truths of religion are simple ; every preacher
understands them ; and what he needs is to feel them. The
highest talents, we know, are sometimes nearly lost in the
7
pulpit; while very moderate abilities are made powerful
through the holy unction of feeling. Religious truth, indeed,
has this peculiarity, that it fails of its proper legitimate char¬
acter in the mind ; that it almost ceases to be truth, if it is
not accompanied by this moral sensibility. And the reason
is, that every moral pereeption, unlike others, is attended
with an obligation to feel it ; and to divorce these one from
the other, is almost to destroy truth itself. And it is, most
certainly and deservedly to destroy all its power. So that
the same truth, uttered coldly and negligently, is impotent,
which, clothed with powerful feeling, is indeed power—the
power of God unto salvation. The organs of speech, with¬
out feeling, are mere machinery. The organs may speak,
but without the heart, it is not the man that speaks. The
man is not engaged in this high and sacred employment, un¬
less the heart is engaged.
Moreover, the feeling must be genuine in order to have
power. It must not be feeling, as it is sometimes called, from
a sense of duty. It must not be a feeling, got up for the oc¬
casion. It must not be an extravagant and effeminate feeling,
into which the preacher contrives, so to speak, to sing him¬
self, by certain fanciful and pensive tones of his own voice.
No, it must be intellectual, manly, strong feeling. The feel¬
ing to be demanded is peculiarly, that which is awakened by
the pereeption of truth. It is rational feeling. And let me
add here, in passing, that although it is common among the
opponents of the rational faith, as they call it, to represent it
as smitten with the coldness of death, yet that I do firmly and
honestly, though humbly believe, that it is productive of more
intellectual, manly, and strong religious feeling, than any
other faith in the world. God forbid, that what these oppo¬
nents say should be true ! And may he speedily give them
the comfort of a more charitable, of a less—^they must par¬
don me—I say, of a less cruel, judgment of their brethren !
8
Still, however, there is among all christians and all preach¬
ers, too little religious sensibility. Let us, then, dwell a
little longer upon the deficiency. Whence does it arise, and
what is the remedy ? I might answer that the deficiency
arises from the neglect of that, in which, at the same time,
the remedy lies—that is to say attention, meditation, prayer.
But I wish to reduce the answer to a still more specific form,
as one that especially concerns the preacher. There is the
want, then, of a clear and strong apprehension of the un¬
speakable interest which every mind has at stake in religion.
The ordinary sense of the importance of religion is too gen¬
eral and abstract ; it needs to be brought to bear upon the
very heart.
But let us go back a step in this matter. Religion has
not only been made a general, but a peculiar thing. The
reflection is familiar to you perhaps; and I do not intend
to dwell upon it. But it is preliminary ; it lies at the foun¬
dation of the whole difficulty. Religion, I say, has been
made a peculiar thing ; and thus far, unapproachable, strange,
mysterious ; difficult of apprehenáon—and distinct appre¬
hension is the grand means of impression ; difficult of expe¬
rience—and experience is the very thing we ask for : diffi¬
cult, I still say, not morally difficult only, but metaphyrically
difficult. Besides, if religion be represented as something
different from essential goodness and happiness ; if it be re¬
presented as a feeling that arises in the mind, as no other
feeling arises ; springing from causes, such as no other feel¬
ing springs from ; springing firom some metaphysical, tech¬
nical or sectarian creed ; it must appear to all but the
initiated few, as something that does not immediately con¬
cern them. And to the initiated few, although it be a
moving theme, it will not be a spring of natural, and
healthful, and habitual emotion. The emotion will be such
as requires some parade and process to get it up ; such as
9
does not answer to the simple and ordinary call of the
preacher's voice. But, now, what is religion, indeed ?
What is its appropriate place, in that world which is so h^d
to be moved by it ? I say then, that, in the system of human
interests, in the frame of society, in the mysterious frame
of our humanity, in the central region of all its mighty
and far spreading thoughts and emotions, in the bosom of
all human fears and hopes, sorrows and joys, religion is, by
right and by destination, the very heart and soul. Not one
day, not one hour, can the great workings of this human
nature well go on without it. Through every fibre of this
intellectual and moral frame,—through every fibre, sensitive,
keenly feeling, thrilling with pain or pleasure, and manifold
as the veins and nerves of the bodily frame, religion must
spread strength, and health, and holy calmness, or all is
misrule and misery. So let it be represented : so let it be
felt : and how can the preacher be dull, or the hearer he
dull ? If a man's possessions were held upon a single tenure,
or if they were hazarded on a single cast, could you speak to
him of that danger, or of that only security, without interesting
him ? But his essential, his moral, his everlasting fortunes
are held upon a single tenure, even that " righteousness"
which we preach, and every day's temptations threaten to
weaken, if not to break this only bond to essential happiness.
Show him this : he is a being that loves happiness—^that is
a tie upon him which is not weakened by selfishness, or
by any sin. Show him distinctly where his treasure, and
where his peril are, and he cannot remain unmoved. Show
him, if I may say so, as his laivyer would show him the
legal possession of his fortune, and where the point of peril
is to his case, he cannot listen with apathy. It only
needs that fine moral analysis, that clear discrimination of
interests, that keen dissection of motives and feelings, to
go to the heart. You may talk to men forever about this
2
10
theme—vaguely, abstractly, technically—in solemn and un¬
meaning generalities, and they will not feel it ; they will
will scarcely feel that you speak to them, individually, per¬
sonally, particularly. But you could not speak to them, I
was ready to say, one moment, with that piercing scrutiny
into feelings and motives, which the preacher ought to use,
without awakening emotion of some sort. It might not be a
right emotion ; it might be an angry, or a merely painful
emotion; but it would be emotion of some sort. For what,
then, would the preacher do ? He would take hold of inter¬
ests, do I say ?—Nay, he would take hold at the very point
where every great interest of our being centres ; he would
lay his hand upon the heart ; he would touch the very spring
of all welfare or wo ; he would lay open the secret mechanism
and movement of all its fears, and hopes, and anxieties ; he
would show what is wrong in it, what it wants, what it must
have, what it must be, or be ever miserable in this life, and
forever miserable in another ; and to say that then the preach¬
er was dull, would be to utter, I say not, falsehood, but abso¬
lute contradiction. Truly is it written, that "the word of
God is quick and powerful, sharper than any two edged
sword, piercing even to the dividing asunder of soul and
spirit, and of the joints and marrow, and is a discerner of
the thoughts and intents of the heart."
I am speaking of the deficiency of feeling in the pulpit ;
and I say, it is from the want of this just and acute discern¬
ment of the mind, and of its interests, that so great a want
is experienced of sensibility in the pulpit. It can be noth¬
ing hut this, unless it be absolute inhumanity in the preacher.
But it is not, surely, an utter want of all principle, that
any one would charge upon this profession. It is not, surely,
that every preacher does not wish his hearers well, does not
desire their happiness, and would not gladly promote their
rirtue and piety. It is, I repeat, because he does not dis-
Il
tlnctly perceive how and where this great and päramount in¬
terest lies in them. He has not—perhaps it must be said,—
he has not sufficiently communed with his own heart—that
exemplar of all other hearts : he has not found in the depths
of prayer, the depths of his own nature : he has not felt the
unspeakable blessedness of piety for himself, the sweetness
of its relief for all want, and sorrow, and fear ; the strength,
and assurance, and comfort of its trust in Jesus Christ. He
has not, perhaps, pursued to the nicest point of its analysis,
even that first great truth, of the immediate, the instant, the
inseparable connection between rectitude and happiness—
between love and joy. In other words, he has not deeply felt
what the soul's interest is, nor distinctly perceived where it is.
If he had, what more would he need to touch his heart,
though all the languors of exhaustion or of disease pressed
upon it ? What would he say in such a case, as he went to
his pulpit, not a dull man, though, perhaps, a wearied man.
" I go," he would say, " to speak to my friends and fellow-
beings, of that, in which every thing dear and precious to
them is bound up. Every'word I shall utter, touches, or may
touch, the very heart, the soul, the life of their welfare. My
spirit is not too much enfeebled to wish them well ; and to
wish them such welfare as religion will give, were enough
almost to arouse one from death. Frozen must my heart
be, with a chill worse than death, if it refuses to feel for such
a welfare. If I saw the flame secretly burning, that threat •
ened immediately to burst out, and destroy my neighbor's
dwelling, I should hasten to him with eagerness, to apprize
him of his danger. I should then speak with an earnest and
arousing tone. But what do I say : a fire is burning in his
heart, in which every better affection is to be seared, and
withered, and consumed away, already it is kindling, it is
burning, and he sees it not ; and is it to be a cold and re¬
luctant tone, and a mere forced animation, with which I
shall sound the alarm of danger in his ear ?"
12
There may indeed be varying moods in the preacher's
mind, and varying degrees of energy ; but with that clear
and deep penetration into men's true, spiritual interests,
now insisted on, there will always be a reality about him to
touch the heart ; or, at least, a reality in the truths he de¬
livers, to touch his own heart, with genuine, if not with pow¬
erful emotion. Those who have tried this, know it ; they
know with certainty where to put their hand; where the
lever is, of power to raise them up ; and they know that it is
of power enough to realise even the philosopher's fancy ; that
it is a lever to move the world.
The pulpit, then, so far as it failed of impression, has
failed chiefly for want of a just and fervent religious sensi¬
bility in the preacher. And this deficiency has arisen, gen¬
erally, from the want of deep attention to religion, of deep
meditation and prayer ; but particularly, I have said, from
the want of that quick and keen perception of the personal
interests at stake in religion, which nothing but deep medi¬
tation and experience can give.
Let me now be indulged with the mention of some
minor difficulties, bearing upon the same point, and which
are not inconsiderable.
Our churches, it is not sufficiently considered, are many of
them difficult places to speak in. The voice does not easily
fill them. Hence the voice becomes strained ; the accent,
emphasis or cadence unnatural—monotonous, recitative, de¬
clamatory—and the whole manner of speaking in the pulpit,
peculiar, unlike any other speaking. These faults result in
part, it is true, from a deeper cause—from the religion that
is preached in the church, and not from the church itself.
The mode of church building, nevertheless, I am persuaded,
is partly answerable for them. And even where these fàults
do not result, there is still a difficulty. It is difficult, when
a forced stress is to be laid on every syllable, to make it
13
heard, to speak with all the natural and varying tones of
feeling. Sensibility in the preacher is checked by this eíFort,
and stunned by this loudness. Hence it is, as one cause, that
some persons, possessing strong religious feeling, and able
to converse in an interesting and affecting manner by the
fireside, are perfectly uninteresting as preachers. It is not
the want of talent or of feeling in general, but the want of
voice. The construction of most of our pulpits, also, in
respect particularly to the heighth, is, on the same account,
objectionable ; as well as that it has the effect to sever the
preacher too much from his hearers. It is a figurative, and
not a literal watch-tower, on which the preacher ought to
stand.
This is not an occasion, I am aware, on which to de¬
liver a lecture upon ecclesiastical architecture. But I
shall venture to suggest, whether, while the public taste
takes what account it pleases of the exterior form and
decorations of our churches—whether the special use of
churches, as places designed for public speaking, should not
be consulted in the shape of the interior building ; and
whether very important ends would not thus be gained,
though the beauty of the graceful arch, or the sublimity of
the towering dome, were sacrificed.
A more serious trial of the pulpit, and a real and serious
burthen upon its energies, is the constant demand for exertion.
The pulpit imposes a severe task upon the mind ; more severe
than any other sphere of professional labor. It urges, by the
most imperative considerations, much reflection and much ear¬
nestness. It must have these, or it will become to the mind,
an engine of torture. It will be a rack to the passive incum¬
bent, unless he is so passive and dead as not to feel any thing.
It will kill conscientious formalists. It will smite with death
dull good men. But it will no less certainly waste and wear
down earnest men. There need to be intervals for relaxa-
14
lion, vacations for the pulpit, as for every other sphere of
intellectual exertion. Then, the mind would come back
with freshness and vigor to its work. What man can go on
from year to year, and through life, with perpetual hard
study, with unintermitted mental application ? And there is
no more exhausting intellectual labor, than the composition
and delivery of sermons. It would be better for a congrega¬
tion to close the doors of its church, for one or two months
in the year, than to drive its clergyman, by perpetual de¬
mands, to a state of health, mind, and spirits, constantly
jaded, weary, worn down to the measure of a bare ability
to go on.
It may be thought, in fine, that a greater difficulty for the
pulpit, than any other, lies in the very nature of the subjects
it has to discuss. It is said that there are are no exigencies
in the pulpit, that it is impossible to form any such practical
crises in it, as is formed in forensic and legislative debate;
and hence, that it is impossible equally to interest the hearer.
This difficulty, which our rhetorical masters have always
been putting into our heads, I shall soon attempt to show, is
most unduly magnified ; and not so much admitting, as deny¬
ing its importance, I shall pass it over in the present con¬
nection, with simply observing, that while it is of some
importance, the great weight ascribed to it rests chiefly upon
a crude and worldly misapprehension, as I conceive, of the
whole subject.
But it is time to proceed to the second head of my dis¬
course, in which I proposed to consider the objects to be
accomplished in the pulpit. I am bound to respect the
offices of my brethren with whom I am associated in this
Installation service, as well as your patience; and shall
therefore not venture to speak of the topics that remain to
be considered, otherwise than in the briefest manner.
To speak, then, on the great concerns of religion, so as to
15
enlighten the mind and move the heart, so as to mould the
character and govern the life—this is the general object.
This object is two-fold—instruction and impression. Nei¬
ther should exclude the other ; and both together may give
scope to a boundless variety of discourse.
He who would enlighten my mind, must fix my attention,
must make me think, must try and task my powers. He
who moves me, does thus far well. But he does not do all
that I have a right to expect, from one whose life is set apart
to religious contemplations for my benefit. I want from
him the best results of his investigations. I want the clear¬
est, and brightest, and most exalted views he can give me, of
truth and duty. I am willing to follow him, at times, in the
most extensive trains of thought, provided they be useful,
which he can spread before me. I do not understand by
the day of rest, a day of indolence ; least of all of mental
or spiritual indolence. I would have my mind, on that day,
exercised and put to the stretch, on themes of infinite gran¬
deur and moment.
It is a serious question, whether the pulpit contributes its
full share to the public intelligence. Consider our churches
as schools, schools of religious teaching, and let it be asked if
enough is learnt in them : and if it ought to satisfy us to make
the use we do, of so much time, and of such considerable op¬
portunities. It does appear to me, that in addition to the
doctrinal and practical views of our religion usually presented,
some knowledge might be profitably given of its history,
some knowledge of its records in critical and expository dis¬
courses, and some knowledge too, of nature, as it would ap¬
pear brightened and beautiful under the strong lights of
piety. ' Would this be said to be no preaching ? No preach¬
ing, to speak of God's goodness and providence, in the his¬
tory of his church, or of his recorded will ? No preaching,
especially, to discourse on those works of God, which are so
16
often the themes of inspiration ? If the Almighty Being has
not regarded it as too much to create a Universe of wonders
and glories, to display his perfection, is it too much for men
to spend a little time in the devout contemplation of it ?
AVill they shrink, as from sacrilege, from such contemplation
in the pulpit, or contemptuously say, " it is no preaching ?"
liSt it not be, indeed, a scholastic lecturing from the pulpit.
But let the preacher, imbued with knowledge on all those
subjects, those works of nature, which are so often cele¬
brated in the Scriptures, spread portions of those Scriptures
from time to time before the people, and after having ex¬
plained them by the aids of critical study, let him freely and
fervently descant upon the themes which they present. Hav¬
ing his own mind wakened and touched—that is essential—
awake, I say, and touched with the sense of God's wisdom and
benedcence in the fa'r and glorious creit'on, let him so speak
of it ; let him speak of its majesty, and mystery, and beauty;
let him speak of God's greatness and goodness in every thing
around us, in the light we behold, and the air we breathe, in
the grandeur of the heavens, and the glory of the earth, in
the lofty mountains and the spreading seas, in the cedar of
Lebanon and the hyssop that springeth by the wall, and in
all the ranks and tribes of animated life ; let him speak of all
this, I say, with a glowing admiration and a lively gratitude,
thus bringing God's love near to every heart, and I believe
the people would find that it wss preaching. Yes, and use¬
ful preaching. How much valuablé knowledge might, in
this way, be communicated to a congregation in the «ourse
of a ten years' ministry. And how might the memorials of
piety be thus set up about their daily path, and its ennobling
and delightful impressions be naturally associated with all
the scenes in which they live. Then would not the multi¬
tudes of men pass through a world of things most wonderful
and beautiful, and a world of things designed too for their in-
17
struction, and yet know comparatively nothing of what it
teaches. It seems to me a great evil, a lamentable failure,
for intelligent beings not to learn all that they ought, from
this present scene and school of their intellectual and moral
education ; a school which is opened to them but once, and
must soon be closed forever. And since the courses of com¬
mon education and the institutions of society áre yet in that
false and bad condition which cuts off the multitude from this
knowledge, and since they have so large a space as one
seventh part of life, which now is but ill used, it appears to
me that the pulpit might well come in to remedy the defi¬
ciency.
Nor would any thing be lost by such a course, while much
would be gained. The truth is, that no preacher can make
two great moral impressions in one day ; two great impres¬
sions, I mean, with regard to distinct duties or precepts. One
will disturb the other, even if he has strength for both.
The greatest evil about impressions made from the pulpit is
their vagueness, the indistinctness which makes them soon
fade away from the mind. One sermon, distinctly remem¬
bered for a year, does more good, produces more direct effect,
perhaps, than all that is heard, and forgotten as soon as
heard, through that whole time. Spiritual truths need to be
made distinct and prominent. I fear that our constant
preaching of the same thing—^the same thing—from Sabbath
to Sabbath, tends to create a confusion of thought about it ;
that this constant pouring in, of topic after topic, of the same
tenor, into the mind, gives no result, in many cases, but an
undistinguishable mixture of ideas about religion. I doubt
whether one person in twenty can give, on being asked, an
intelligible and satisfactory account of the meaning of the
golden rule, and so, of many other moral maxims of the New
Testament. And many, "even on the moment of their return
from church, cannot remember the subject of their medita-
3
18
tions ; they profess to have admired the sermon, perhaps,
but they cannot tell what it was about. How unsatisfactory
ought those impressions to be, which fade away, at the very
moment they are made, which have no place in the mind,
and yield it no guidance nor strength.
To my brethren, especially of the clergy, would I submit
these remarks, with such modesty as becomes every proposal
of innovation. I know very well that it is easier to plan
than to execute. I know not who of us can do what I
have ventured to propose ; but I would gladly see the ex¬
periment. And I believe that it would contribute much to
the enlargement of our own minds, and to the culture of our
piety, as well as to the improvement of our churches. It
would save us, too, something of that exhausting labor of our
lives, the writing of sermons ; for I think that the kind of
expository preaching proposed, might, with a little effort,
and very advantageously, be made extemporaneous. It
would substitute, to a certain extent, in place of original
composition, of which I cannot doubt that we have too much
for the good of our minds,—it would substitute, I say, the
pleasant pursuits of critical inquiry and natural science ; and
we should become more learned men, with less of that labor
of composition, which though so delightful in health, is more
than any other wasting both to the body and mind.
But it is time that I should pass to consider the second
great object of the pulpit—impression ; and the manner in
which it is to be made.
The subjects committed to the pulpit leave us nothing to
wish, but power to enforce them. They are not small mat¬
ters, such as the legislative, and especially the forensic
speaker, often regrets that he is obliged to handle, but they
are matters of infinite moment. They are not dull themes,
but themes of unutterable interest. We speak, in this holy
place, of God—of his power, his wisdom, his providence, his
19
beneficence, his boundless mercy. We speak of Jesus, the
Son of God, of his messiahship, his mission, his ministry, his
unequalled teaching, his blameless example, his great sacri¬
fice, his glorious triumph. We speak of the soul, of its exalt¬
ed powers, its moral degradation, its fearful peril, its way of
escape provided in the Gospel, its essential happiness, its
immortal hope, its promised heaven. We speak of life, of
its conflicts and changes, of its joys and sorrows, of its trials
and temptations, of its supreme interest and ' of its sublime
purpose, of its awful dangers and of its glorious victories.
Yes, we tell every man, that he stands here upon the very
field of a solemn and momentous probation ; and we open to
him the infinite future, in which he is to live and to act, to
think and to feel, to enjoy or to suffer, forever.
Now of all these affecting themes, to speak with power,
we must speak as those who have made them their own by
meditation and by experience. It must be no delivery of
homilies, as in the days of Cranmer, and as preaching still is,
to a considerable extent, in the English cliurch ; it must be
no preaching of sermons bought in the market place. But
he who will preach the Gospel, with appropriate power, and
especially in those quarters of the world, where religious
themes are occupying the public mind, must preach for him¬
self, and from himself. No grave essay should it be, tending
to nothing in particular, and springing from nothing in par¬
ticular—unless it be from the irksome necessity of writing a
sermon. This will not do. It will not reach the point. In
moral justice that which comes from nothing, ought to ac¬
complish nothing. No ; let it come from the depths of
meditation and experience—come from a feeling that says,
" wo is me, if I preach it not 1"—come as it did from the
mind of the Psalmist when he said, " While I was musing the
fire burned ; iÄew spake I with my tongue." Again, I say,
no rhapsody is the effectual preaching of the Gospel, no
20
mere eloquent declamation, no desultory, however fervent
harangue, no string of truisms which have heen heard so
often that they have almost ceased to be truths, but a per¬
sonal, and so, a pointed and penetrating discussion of the
very grounds—^the spiritual grounds and principles of things.
I helieve we do the public mind injustice, when we suppose
that it demands nothing of us but to say, " you must be good,
and humble, and devout ; you must repent, and be convert¬
ed, and grow in grace." The reasons and grounds of these
things must be stated, and cannot be too clearly stated. It
is not acuteness that is to he dreaded in the preacher, but
vagueness ; it is not point, hut generality ; it is not meta¬
physics, properly so called, hut it is philosophy, falsely so
called. Neither, once more, may the preaching of the Gos¬
pel be a bare, naked, theological ^disquisition, designed just
to prove the preacher right, and his opponents wrong, but it
must be a doctrine which is interwoven with every fibre of
of the heart—no abstract and cold argument, but the argu¬
ment whose train is set on fire fi-om heaven.
I have said that preaching must not be the delivery of
sermons bought in the market place ; nor bought, I have
ventured to add, in hard bargaining with the mind—distrain¬
ed from the heart, as a tax, for the support of life. It were
as well, literally to buy sermons. And yet, let me say, tbat
our sermons must, after all, come from the market place.
They must come from intercourse and acquaintance with the
busy throng of life. This, I might say, is necessary to take
off from preaching its too commonly theoretical and visionary
character, to give it a really soher and practical cast, to free
it from that generalization and from that extravagance, which
leads the hearers to say, " This comes from the closet ; the
preacher does not understand our difficulties." But it is
especially necessary, in order that the pulpit may be built
up in its full strength and efficiency, that it should have iti
21
position in the midst of life. The very scene of life should
be around it, and the deepest recesses of that life, which all
human hearts are living, should he open to it. It should
not be staid and stately ; it should not be formal and
merely dignified. It should not barely proclaim the truths
of religion, but it should carry down those truths, into the
closest contact with all human thought and feeling. There
are deeper things in the heart than we ordinarily see. Its
outward manifestation is like many a face which we meet,
calm and even smiling, while the wounds of bereavement, of
disappointment, of calumny, or of slighted love, are preying
upon the spirit within. •
Are there then no exigences in the pulpit? Is nothing
depending on those words which press upon the supreme
interests of life, and press for decision, too ? And are those
decisions, and their consequent acts, to which the man is
urged in religion, less specific or less momentous than those
which are urged in a court of justice ? Is not the tribunal of
conscience forever open, and is not every action of life
amenable to it, and is not every sermon, a pleading in that
august court?
How often does a man come to the house of God with a
solemn question in his heart, and that question is—^in sub¬
stance, if not in terms—what shall I do ? He is conscious of
spiritual destitution; he wants what he has never found; he
is burdened with a sense of sin and estrangement from God ;
he is sensible of a fatal coldness and death, and he seeks for
life ; he bitterly sighs after happiness, and would be glad
that religion, that the Gospel, that some blessed ministra¬
tion, might make him happy. And is not this a cause that
asks for a hearing in the presence of God ? Is not this a case,
on which the doctrine of the preacher may bear specifically ;
on which many a word that falls from his lips, may be a
word of decision and of power ?
22
How often does a man come to our solemn assemblies, in
the very crisis of his moral fate ! He may be a young man,
wavering between strict virtue and criminal indulgence. He
may be an old man, in whom eternity, just at hand, is plead¬
ing with time almost spent, or with the world's possessions,
soon to be parted from, forever. He may be a man in the
maturity of life, with all the ties of family and friendship to
restrain him from some evil, and yet to that evil his pas¬
sions may be fiercely urging him. Yes, and the conflict
—be he younger or older—the conflict is pressing him
hard. Yesterday, the syren voice was in his ear, inviting,
winning him to indulgence ; tomorrow, it will find him out
again, and tell him of pleasure, and opportunity, and impu¬
nity. Shall he yield—or shall he not yield? How fearful
the question ! Virtue, honor, happiness, heaven, eternity,
depend upon it ! Oh ! what words may the preacher then
speak ; and how does the conscious heart then listen to
them ; and how in that great hearing of the case, do waiting
friends pray, in silent agony, that it may not listen in vain !
Is there then no crisis made, is there no issue tried, is there
no charge given, is there no moral verdict sealed up, in
the house of God ? Well may we say, how dreadful is this
place ! House of God and of God's presence ! house of our
solemnities and solemn vows ! what testimonies art thou re¬
cording from Sabbath to Sabbath, to approve or to condemn
us hereafter ! what secret decisions, what sealed verdicts art
thou sending up, to be opened in the court of heaven, to
be read in the light of eternity !
Ah ! consider it—ministers of God, -for the sake of your
fidelity ! Christians, for the sake of your prayers 1—consider,
that decisions are passing here, weighty and solemn as the
soul's welfare, and peril, and hope of deliverance can make
them. Elsewhere, I know, that great and momentous causes
are pleaded ; the sacred rights of justice and humanity are
23
defended, or the welfare of empires hangs upon the breath of
commanding eloquence, the fates of unborn millions upon the
issue of high and solemn debate. So Demosthenes pleaded
in crowded assemblies at Athens, and listening ages have
hung upon his words. So have there been pleadings, scarce¬
ly less eloquent, for the liberties of our own country, and of
England, and of Europe, and of the whole modern world.
And yet there are moral pleadings for the world's welfare,
for the world's regeneration, for the great conservative prin¬
ciple of all society—fot duty, from man to man in every
social and political relation ; for thoughtfulness and sobriety,
and fidelity in every great crisis of the world's afiairs—
there are moral pleadings, I say, on which more is suspend¬
ed ultimately than upon all other arguments ; and the pecu¬
liar province for these, is the pulpit. I trust indeed, that
the pulpit is yet to answer to the mighty call. I trust that
the great, and as yet but ill understood, the christian theory
of society, of social relationships, and of political duties, is to
be illustrated, so as to awaken in the world a new spirit, so
as to throw light upon the paths of nations.
But amidst all this struggle for rights or for interests,
so clamorous, passionate and engrossing, amidst wars and
intestine strifes, amidst conventions and assemblies, and
elections and party agitations, the generations of the world
are passing onward—one mighty moving mass, onward to
eternity. In that great congregation—ever moving on¬
ward—of the living and the dying, thou, minister of God !
hast thy place. Amidst that great congregation, whether
in this pulpit or another, thou standest, and thou speak-
est. Do thou, O man of God—whether here or else¬
where—do thou be faithful. Speak the truth. Speak
it, in the demonstration of the Spirit, and with power.
Speak it, with all the energies of a man, with all the
sensibility of a living man, with all the solemn convic-
24
tion of a dying man. If thou art, indeed, a man, and not a
stock or a stone ; if thou hast the feelings of a man, feel for
what is human ; for want, and sorrow, and sin, and tempta¬
tion, and danger. Human nature, in every one of these
conditions, cries aloud for help. To minister to that na¬
ture—to minister one holy thought, to communicate one
heavenward impulse, to awaken one blessed affection of
piety, were a joy, sufficient to soothe even the pains of mar¬
tyrdom. But it is no martyrdom, brethren, to which we,
or our brother now to be consecrated to the ministrations of
this pulpit, are called ; it is to holy delight, in every Sab¬
bath's work ; it is to those blessed offices of the pulpit, not
to be exchanged for the honors of a throne ; it is to those
daily communings, more precious than all earthly pleasures
can offer ; it is to welcome study, to cheerful labor, to enno¬
bling happiness in this world ; it is to glory and rest in
eternity.
CHARGE,
BY REV. CONVERS FRANCIS, OF WATERTOWN.
My Friend and Brother,—The duty assigned to me
by the Ecclesiastical Council at this time, will not require
me to speak as to one untried in the ministry of the Gospel.
The occasion is not new to you. You have trodden the
path before, and you have learned hy experience what it is
to sustain the relations and bear the responsibleness of a chris¬
tian pastor. I shall therefore merely attempt, on behalf of
your brethren here assembled, to suggest in a few plain
words some of those considerations, which we doubt not have
already found a sanction in your own heart.
The christian ministry is one of the agencies, which God
employs to enlighten and animate the "moral nature of man.
I say it is one of them ; for there are a thousand other ways,
in which He has provided for the excitement and instruction
of the soul. But it is among the most energetic and impor¬
tant of these agencies. It is the action of the mind and
heart of one upon the minds and hearts of others, on topics, in
which all alike have an everlasting interest. It may there¬
fore be expected to possess that peculiarly quickening power,
which belongs to the intercourse of man with man ; and he,
who is intrusted with its offices, must feel that he stands
in the line of fellow-workers with God and with Jesus Christ.
4
2G
Can there be a more solemn motive to a conscientious in¬
quiry after duty, than is presented by such claims ?
The first care of the Christian minister will be to bring to
his work enlightened views and a prepared heart. We be¬
lieve that you have long since felt the importance of this.
We are persuaded, that we have not now to warn you
against the delusion of supposing that a barren or unfurnish¬
ed mind is an offering to be accepted in this service. But
we may and do counsel you to persevere in the work of
personal improvement, that you may accomplish well the
work of improving others. A minister should love his study,
and spend much time there. I think the relative impor¬
tance of this point of clerical duty is in some danger of being
underrated among us. In this community our profession is
essentially an active one. It connects us in a multitude of
ways with the operations and the stir, which are about us
on every side. We are in the midst of the strong current,
which sets forward society towards objects of utility or im¬
provement ; and large demands are made on our time and
exertions by engagements, which lie out of what some years
ago was considered the whole circle of a clergyman's duties.
Hence the danger of magnifying the importance of active
pursuits, as they are called, so disproportionately, as to
leave but a miserable pittance of time, if not to quench the
taste, for the silent labors of the study. We would not dis¬
suade you from taking a part in the active duties, which the
wants of the community have connected with our profession.
We would exhort you to do all that you can for truth and
for man, in every way that God will approve. But you will
not forget, that your mind must be fed with its appropriate
nutriment, in order to be robust and fit for persevering and
available labor. The armor^ in which the minister is to
perform the Watfere for his Master's cause, must be wrought
piece by piece, firmly and well, in the quiet privacy of
2-
ihought, within the retirement where heavenly wisdom
dwells. I know the restless demands of other duties are apt
to interfere with this, even where there is a strong inclina¬
tion to it. The late Bishop Heber, in one of his letters,
while he was a rector, after acknowledging an unwillingness
he felt in quitting his books for the care of his parish, remarks
that he was sometimes inclined to think a fondness for study
an unfortunate predilection for one who has the charge of a
large congregation. We can easily understand the state of
feeling, in which he could make the remark. But I would
advise you to cherish no such impression. On the contrary,
deem a taste for study one of the best tastes you can have
in connection with your duty. Be assured that he, who is
called to exhibit to bis fellow-creatures the great things per¬
taining to life and godliness, cannot love too well to be
among those sources of instruction, which open to him the
vast significance of duty and of revelation, of immortality
and of God.
Again ; you will agree with us in the importance of culti¬
vating religious sensibility,—by which I mean a strong deter¬
mination of the heart towards all the practical and spiritual
aspects of divine truth. I mention this, particularly, because
it has been thought that we are in danger, by the nature
of our duties, of making religion a sort of professional busi¬
ness merely, and that we may contract a spiritless formality
while we are continually endeavoring to find something to
say to others, rather than what shall edify us personally as
Christians. Against this tendency a strong guard is to be
placed. The faithful minister of Jesus Christ will seek to
carrj' forth from his own heart his testimony to the worth of
that religion, which he would recommend to the hearts of
others. He will feel that he has the same personal interest
in the Gospel, which his fellow-men have ; and this feeling
will impart a warmth, a reality to his reasonings and persua-
28
sions, which can be supplied from no other source. He will
6nd that there is wisdom better than any, which books or the
schools can furnish,—that there is truth, the highest and
best, the avenue to which lies chiefly, if not only, through
the heart ; and this is the wisdom, this the truth, which will
make his instructions " quick and powerful." It is thus he
will receive the sanctifying influences, which it will be his
hiighest joy to difluse. It is tbus that the spirit of God,
having illuminated and purified his own moral nature, may
through his ministrations be made to kindle and glow in the
breasts of others. It is thus he will become, in a true and
good sense, an experimental preacher,—one who reaches the
heart, because he speaks from the heart. Without this, his
discourses may have a body ; but with it, they have a soul.
We exhort you, then, my brother, to cherish religious sen¬
sibility,—to keep yourself much within that holy presence of
the great truths of eternity, which is found retired and apart
from the noisy conflicts of disputers, that thus you maybe "a
vessel unto honor, sanctified, and meet for the master's use."
The minister will next consider how he may best discharge
the great duty of religious instruction. On this subject you
will seek for principles, rather than rules ; and the best guide
to these principles you will find in the furnished mind and
prepared heart, which I have already recommended to you.
The just result of these will be, that spirit of enlightened and
kind fidelity, which will enable you to unfold divine truth in
all its energy and loveliness, and to enforce with power the
sanctions that are unfailing as He who gave them, and lasting
as the eternity to which man is destined. You will cometo
this place habitually with the impression, that God has in¬
trusted you, in the office of instruction, with an agency
which you are to use for the advancement of your Master's
spiritual kingdom. You will stand here to declare plainly
and fearlessly the counsels of the Gospel, and to urge them
29
on the consciences of men by all its generous and solemn
motives,—to illustrate the Scriptures in the spirit of just and
sound interpretation—and by a skilful adaptation of instruc¬
tion, warning, and consolation to the actual wants of your
people, to impart moral health and energy to those, who are
travelling with you on the path of life, amidst trials, dangers,
and fears.
The doctrines which you are to inculcate must be such
as, in the exercise of your own responsibleness, you find to
be true. We cannot find them, and have no wish to find
them, for you. We doubt not that you will treat the Gos¬
pel as a system of large meaning and quickening power, that
you will not expect to find the whole of its purifying vitality,
its deep significance, in the interpretations or systems of any
man, or body of men,—^but that you will regard it as a mine
of divine truth, from which by your individual labor you are
to bring treasures for your fellow-men that shall make them
rich toward God. If any man should bear a free mind and
wear no " fetters in the soul," the christian minister is that
man. He submits to a bondage that will paralyze his best
energies, when he receives passively his direction from opin¬
ions wrought out, however conscientiously, by others. Chris¬
tianity, he will remember, is a form of God's truth, in the
centre of which lie the germs of all the moral improvement
and moral happiness of man ; and when he thus regards it as
supplying the means to educate the soul for all the high pur¬
poses of an everlasting existence, he will not give the pro¬
mise of allegiance to any of the forms of faith that men have
devised. But while he never consents to resign this manly
and Christian independence, let him he known witthout os¬
tentation or bluster, but with unshrinking firmness, as the
friend and advocate of what he believes to be the truth as it
is in Jesus. Let him cherish with all his affections the pa¬
cific spirit of enlarged charity ; but at the same time let him
30
be faithful to his religious convictions. In order to be free
from the slavery of party, it is not necessary to sink into cold
indifference to all peculiarities of opinion. God gives us
the knowledge of truth, not that we should slumber over it,
or bury it, or desert it, but that we should cleave to it firmly,
affectionately, and faithfully. No better standard of duty on
this subject is to be had, than that furnished by Paul in his
noble defence before the Roman governor, when he said of
the, Jews,—"they neither found me in the temple disputing
with any man, neither raising up the people, neither in the
synagogues, nor in the city ;—but this I confess untQ thee,
that after the way which they call heresy, so worship I the
God of my fathers, believing all things which are written in
the law and in the prophets."
When you have thus given up yourself to the noble and
unshackled spirit of the Gospel, when you have thus taken
to your heart the love of divine truth, in all its length and
breadth, your manner will doubtless be worthy of the sub¬
ject. You will resort to none of the tricks and devices, by
which a temporary wonder is excited. You will not be in
love with what have been significantly called " the traps of
rhetoric you will not seek to clothe your instructions in the
effeminate luxuries of speech, if I may so term thera ; but
you will propound your Master's truth with that dignified
simplicity, that forthright earnestness, which will pour the
current of moral life warm from your own mind into the
minds around you.
With regard:to, the more private duties of your office,
which lie in the scenes of daily intercourse, or in the fami¬
lies of your parish, govern yourself by the plain dictates of
good sense, unaffected candor, and Christian feeling. Make
no effort to wear a particular character for the sake of effect ;
but deal with men in the frank and honorable manner which
results from mingled self-respect and true kindness of heart.
31
We are persuaded that you will carry into all your parochial
intercourse a disposition to learn and meet the wants of your
people, to make their hopes and fears as far as possible your
own, to share their joys, to sympathize in their sorrows, and
to maintain a fellowship in their views and feelings. It will
be your care to exhibit that moral prudence which is a chris¬
tian virtue ;—not that prudence which is only a disguise for
timidity or selfishness, but that which is the companion of
the wisdom from above, which will enable you to commend
without flattery, to reprove without asperity, and to adapt
your influences to differences of character, without unfaith¬
fulness or time-serving compliance. The young you will of
course regard with peculiar interest, and will prize every
mode of influence, by which jou may do something to inter¬
weave the saving power of christian knowledge and christian
principles with the elements, of which their characters are
to be composed. The aged will feel that in you they have
a friend and comforter. You will gladden the face of the
poor, and pour the balm of consolation into the wounds of
the afflicted. In the chamber of sickness and at the bed of
death, you will appear with the kindness of a friend and the
faithfulness of a minister ; and the blessings of a good exam¬
ple and of wise counsel, we trust, will follow your steps as
you walk the rounds of your numerous duties.
These imperfect hints, my brother, can only afford you a
few suggestions, to stir up your thoughts by way of remem¬
brance. I need not say that you will give diligent attention
to that directory for the minister's duties, which is found in
the Scriptures, especially in the writings of Paul, that as a
man of God you may be thoroughly furnished unto every
good work.
And now, my brother, may the blessing of God rest on all
your endeavors to understand and to do your duty. It is
with lively interest that I recall the time, when you and I
32
stood in tlie relation of pupil and teacher. My best wishes
have followed your course since that period ; and it is with
unfeigned pleasure, that I have now met you to offer a few
words of counsel, while you are about to renew the interrupt¬
ed labors of the ministry in this important field of usefulness.
F rom this field may you gather much fi-uit unto eternal life.
Go forth to your work, brother, with a heart full of the love
of doing good, with that pure moral enthusiasm which arises
from piety inlaid in the soul,—and doubt not that a better
blessing than the gratitude of man will await you. You will
not expect, and I know you will not wish, to find the course
on which you have again entered a scene of ease. To the
circumstances of our profession at the present day, may be
applied with peculiar force the emphatic remark of Dr. John¬
son, when he said—" I do not envy a clergyman's life as an
easy life, nor do I envy the clergyman who makes it an easy
life." You will be cheered on by the pleasure that belongs
to labor devoted to a great and good cause. But you will
have trials, to be met with christian firmness ; you will have
a task to be performed with strenuous industry. When the
end shall crown your work, may there be a witness of your
fidelity in heaven, a record of your well-doing on high.
RIGHT HA.ND OF FELLOWSHIP;
by rev. frederick a. farley of providence.
The solemn nature of this occasion shall not prevent me,
my Brother, from declaring the peculiar and heartfelt religious
joy, with which, as the organ of our elders and brethren in the
ministry, and of the church represented in this ecclesiastical
council, I am now to give to you the right hand of fellowship.
You need not be told, though others around us may, that it
will be given in no assumption of authority—as no token of
priestly rule, as no symbol of ecclesiastical authority exclu¬
sively belonging to any who are connected as branches of
the same church of Christ. It is the pledge of our union, of
our sympathy, of our desire to co-operate with you in the
great " work of the ministry," to which you are here called.
Receive it as the sign of our affectionate recognition of you,
as a brother and equal—by which you are assured of our
interest in your welfare—our readiness to aid you by counsel
or labor—our desire to meet and treat you, here and every¬
where, as a joint steward of Jesus Christ—to be glad in your
success—to sympathise with your sorrows—and to show you
all those offices of zeal and love, which may help to lighten
your duties, and send you on your way rejoicing.
We may congratulate ourselves, my brother, that our lot
is cast in an age and country, in which the rights of private
5
34
opinion and free inquiry, upon religion, as well as upon all
other subjects, are guaranteed by the strong, inherent good
sense of the whole community ; and that it is fast becoming
too late for those who sit in the desk of religious instruction,
to hope to convert to any set of opinions which war with
the conclusions of an enlightened judgment. When the
people are once roused to a sense of their obligations to
judge for themselves what is religious truth, and are con¬
vinced that mere antiquity or authority afford but a feeble
support for controverted tenets, it will be difficult for the
clergy to confine them within the limits of any prescribed
creed, which is not beyond all question deduced from the
sacred volume.—Such, I trust, is already the case to a very
considerable extent now. And we will not cease to hope,
that our religion will be thoroughly freed from the corrup¬
tions of past ages, and the unhallowed traditions of men.
Its operation upon the heart and conscience will then be
proportionally beneficent, human virtue carried to higher
excellence, faith made more firm and efficient, and hope
more buoyant and deathless. For these great ends in this
part of our Lord's vineyard, is the ministry laid upon you.
God grant that you may be enabled here, as we believe you
have been elsewhere, to aid the progress of pure, simple,
primitive Christianity, to carry it deeper into the soul, to
give it a more pervading influence over the life, that it may
awaken a more generous ambition after what is truly excel¬
lent in the sight of Him who is the Great Head of the church,
and evince its divine and heavenly origin, by its sanctifying
and saving power.
My brother, there are many wishes, many earnest prayers,
blending with, and hallowing this hour. There are hopes,
and rejoicing, and thronging expectations, all honorable to
you, but all shadowing forth the solemnity of that covenant
which the transactions of this day seal. I turn from them
35
all, to ourselves. I have said that I would declare the pe¬
culiar joy which this day brings to me. I will declare it.
Four years ago, I stood where you stand, to receive this
same right hand of fellowship, from one dear to us both, and
whose praise is now deservedly sounding forth in all our
churches.* The hands of your predecessor had been laid
witb others upon my head, while with most affectionate and
touching supplication, he prayed for the Divine blessing on my
ministry. Four years, did we, and the respective churches
in our charge, live together in peace, harmony, and fellow¬
ship ; and when so unexpectedly in the course of Provi¬
dence he has removed from this scene of his labors, we have
only to beseech upon him the protection and blessing of
God.—New scenes, new sympathies, are opening upon me.
Thoughts are thickly crowding upon my mind which must
be acted out rather than spoken. But I may give you my
right hand once again, my brother, in token of the peculiar
and friendly interest which connects us, and our sister churches
in this city. We have already taken sweet counsel together
in regard to the solemn responsibilities and the holy satisfac¬
tions of the future : the moment for action together has arrived.
God be thanked that we are to labor, and I trust, rejoice to¬
gether in the sublimest of human offices 1 God grant that we
may be kindly affectioned one toward the other with broth¬
erly love, in honor preferring each the other ! And when
tlie trials into which we may be brought are tbick about us,
if no otber human voice can whisper courage and impart
strength, may the fraternal pledge which is now exchanged
be remembered !—My brother, I commend you to God and
to the power of his grace.—I pray that lie will aid you in all
your doings with His perpetual favor—that the resolves with
•Rev. E. S. Gannett, of Boston, now elected to tlio General Agency of the
American Unitarian Association.
36
which you now enter on this new sphere of duty may never
prove vain—and the hopes you indulge never be frustrated !
Whether our ministry be long or short, must be left to Him—
all we can ask is, that it may be filled up with usefulness
and improvement, and zeal, and charity.
Elevated Attainments in Piety Essential to Suceessfnl
Study of the Scriptures*
A SERMON,
DELIVERED IN THE OLIVER-STREET MEETING-HOUSE,
NEW-YORK,
ON THE EVENING OF DECEMBER 17, 1832;
AT THE ORDINATION OP
MR. WILLIAM R. WILLIAMS-
BY FRANCIS WAYLAND, JR.,
Pretidtnt of Brovn Univertiiy.
PUBLISHED BY REQUEST.
NEW-YORK:
CLAYTON t VAN NORDEN, PRINTERS,
No. 49 William-itreet.
1C33.
ACTS vi. 4.
" But we will give ourselves continually to prayer, aiid to the
ministry of the word."
The duties specially appropriate to the clerical
office, are either those of seclusion, or those of pub¬
licity. Those of the first class are performed in
the study—they are the processes of intellection and
of conscience, which must be carried on alone in the
secret chambers of a man's own bosom, or in ab¬
stracted communion with inspired and uninspired
understanding, or in working out the materials thus
acquired into the means for practical effect. Those
of the second class, are the results of what has thus
gone before, and are witnessed when the intellect and
the conscience of the clergyman come into contact
with the intellect and the conscience of the men who
are about him. It is to the first of this class of duties
that the apostle Paul refers, when he instructs Timo¬
thy to meditate upon these things, to^ give himself
wholly to them ; and to the second, when, in another
place, he adds, preach the word ; be instant in season,
out of season ; reprove, rebuke, exhort, with all long
suffering and doctrine. In the words of the text,
they are both connected together. We will give
ourselves continually to prayer, and to the ministry
of the word.
4
And yet more, not only are these the duties of
a minister of Jesus Christ ; the context would lead
us to infer that, as far as he is a minister of Jesus
Christ, they were his whole duties. The apostles
would not allow themselves to be diverted from this
their appropriate business, even by the pressing call
to administer the charities of the church. They
considered that, if they were set apart to the care
of the spiritual interests of man, this was of itself
an all-engrossing trust, How far this example is
obligatory upon us in the present age of the church,
we will not, on this occasion, pretend to decide.
We will only remark, that the moral interests of any
congregation seem abundantly sufficient to occupy
the full talents of a single individual ; and it may
be well a matter of serious inquiry, whether those
interests, surely more important than any other, will
not suffer, if the time of a clergyman be distracted
by the multifarious avocations which concern the
general interests of the church. And if it be asked
how these general interests are to be promoted, un¬
less they be sustained by the active service of the
minister of the Gospel, we answer, the passage from
which the text is taken, directs us to the course to be
pursued. Wherefore, brethren, look ye out among
you seven men, of honest report, full of the Holy
Ghost, and of wisdom, whom we may appoint over
this business. The cure must come from the laity.
Each one must give not only his money, but his
personal service, to the cause of Christ, that the
minister may be separated to the duties of his more
immediate function.
5
But, to recur again to the remark with wh\^ch we
commenced ; the duties of a clergyman are those of
seclusion, and those of publicity. It is to some con¬
siderations connected with the first of these, namely,
his duties of preparation for his public ministration,
to which we would, on this occasion, invite your at¬
tention. And the object which we have specially
in view, will be to illustrate the connexion which
subsists between high attainments in personal piety,
and the successful preparation for ministerial duty.
And, after having thus restricted ourselves, we shall
be obliged to select a few from the various topics
which press upon our attention, and to discuss even
these with a brevity ill suited to their importance.
It is hardly necessary that I commence with re¬
minding you of the great diversity of moral acqui¬
sition which exists among those whom we hope to be
religious men. We frequently observe a piety which
touches, with inconstant hand, the commoner affec¬
tions of the soul ; and its notes are, as might be
expected, fitful and discordant. It rules, but by
seasons, the movements of the understanding, and
controls, but imperfectly, the decisions of the con¬
science. Hence, we see it connected with very
inadequate ideas of the requirements of the law of
God ; we behold it in the indulgence of many a
bias which a more elevated piety would have cor¬
rected, and in the omission of many a duty which a
more thorough piety would have fulfilled. So mixed
and associated is it with all that is variable in the
natural temperament, as frequently to make it doubt¬
ful whether it be at all of the operation of God.
6
And then, again, the charity, which covereth a mul¬
titude of sins, teaches us to hope that, amid so much
that is wrong, there may be something that is right.
After all, we are, in many cases, obliged to suspend
any opinion concerning it, and leave the care to Him
that judgeth righteously. I surely need not remark,
that this is not the standard of moral attainment
appropriate for him who is to be an example to be¬
lievers, in all things.
Again, there is another type of piety which has
its place amid the graver powers of the soul. It re¬
gulates more steadily the will, subdues more power¬
fully the desires, and produces, within the limit of
its range, a far more consistent moral exhibition than
that .of which we have just spoken. Convince the
man whom it distinguishes what is right, and though
you may regret that it is so hard to convince him,
yet, having done this, you may be sure that he will
obey. Now all this is well ; but what is not so well
is, that his progress in the path of duty has more of
the monotony of a moving machine, than the buoy¬
ant elasticity of delighted life. He does what is
right, and does it, we trust, from the heart; but he
does not do it with the heart. And yet, this man,
so quiescent in religion, will be kindled into anima¬
tion by political discussion. That imagination, so
languid when looking from and into eternity, will be
powerfully enough excited by the visions of poetry.
That it is religion we have reason to hope, for it
makes sacrifices for God, and its moral energy rises
with the pressure that is laid upon it ; but that it is
very imperfect religion, there is as little reason to
7
doubt. Its affections are dull, torpid, and inactive.
It has little to do with deep felt awe, with holy re¬
verence, with ardent love, or with unquenchable de¬
sire after communion with God. We fear that the
Saviour would direct to it the rebuke which he for¬
merly uttered against the church at Ephesus : I
know thy works, and thy labour, and thy patience,
and how thou canst not bear them which are evil, and
hast borne, and hast patience, and for my name's sake
hast laboured, and hast not fainted ; nevertheless, I
have somewhat against thee, because thou hast left
thy first love. You will anticipate me, in saying, that
neither is this the piety which should satisfy the de¬
sires of a minister of Christ.
But there is yet another degree of moral attain¬
ment, far transcending all that we see in the ordina¬
ry exhibitions of religious character. It is one
which exemplifies that saying of the Apostle : If any
man be in Christ there is a new creation ; old things
are passed away, behold, all things are become new.
Not only does it withhold from the doing of wrong
and incite to the doing of right, but it awakes to vi¬
gorous action, and imbues with a Heaven-born
energy every power of the soul. In honest and un-
exaggerated simplicity, it raises the affections from
things on the earth, and fixes them upon things in
Heaven, and breathes forth the desires which it has
created in such language as this : As the hart pant-
eth for the water-brook, so panteth my soul after thee,
O God. My soul thirsteth for God, yea, the living
God ; when shall I arise and appear before God ? It
is a piety which is seen in unfeigned humility, in
8
heart searching repentance, in active faith, in anima¬
ted hope, inhabitual self-denials, in victories over the
world, in fervent charity, in love to the souls, and,
also", to the bodies of men ;—it is nourished by fervent
prayer, by near communion with God, by habitual
contemplations of the perfections of the uncreated
Holy One, and by a fixed respect to Heaven, and
hell, and judgment, and eternity, and all that the
Bible has revealed concerning the things which are
not seen. Such was evidently the piety of Apos¬
tles, and martyrs, and confessors, in the primitive
ages of the church. Such, in later days, has been
the piety of Baxter and of Leighton, of Pascal and
ofFenelon, of Brainerd and of Pearce, of Martyn
and of Payson. It is this degree of piety which
should be, if I may so speak, the professional aim of
the minister of the Gospel; and it is this of which we
would now illustrate the effects in the various depart¬
ments of his retired and unseen labour.
In illustrating the importance of this temper of
heart to ministerial study, we shall endeavour to
show its effect upon the original powers of mind ;
upon the application of those powers to the investi¬
gation of divine truth ; and, lastly, upon the ability
to enforce that truth upon the consciences of men.
I. Let us then, first, consider the effect of ardent
piety upon the original faculties of the mind.
It concentrates their exertions.
The ray which falls upon this world from the Sun
of Righteousness, is constant and invariable. Where
once its light and shade have fallen, there they re¬
main unchangeable for ever. He who looks upon
9
the world through this medium, cannot be deluded
by the fantastic and unsubstantial looming of sublu¬
nary glory. He sees his object clearly, and he
marks with intuitive accuracy the line which is
drawn around every thing irrelative to it. With
his end thus clearly in view, he is not led astray by
those bewildering pursuits in which the exertions of
other men are so lamentably frittered away. Every
thing presents itself to him in its true colour and
its real dimensions ; day after day it appears
invariably the same ; and whilst the decisions of a
less religious man are balancing between this world
and the next, between present care and future glory,
he has already decided, for he has asked, how will it
appear at the judgment seat of Christ. Hence, every
power being moved by one principle, and directed to
one object, he stands a pre-eminent exemplification of
simplicity of purpose.
In the next place, ardent piety excites the origi¬
nal powers of the mind to vigorous and continued
action.
To a thoughtful mind there is scarcely a more
melancholy picture of man, than is presented by the
comparison of what he is, with what he might have
been. It is humiliating to think, even for a moment,
upon the endowments of a human soul, and then to
think of what among the myriads of our race is the
amount of individual accomplishment. When we
have said that a unit has been added and a unit has been
taken away from the sum of human existence, it
would seem as though we had told all, that, to hu¬
man eye, was important in the life of millions of our
2
10
race. And if we ascend to the walks of educated, or
even of professional life, how deplorable is the specta¬
cle. We see, in the majority of instances, scarcely the
endeavour after distinguished excellence, or, at
best, the casual, half formed resolution, after long pe¬
riods of inactivity, successful, if successful at all, by
accident rather than by power ; but more frequently
sinking to the grave in pitiable and yet patient obli¬
vion. And those who succeed will devote but a
small portion of their time to intellectual labour.
The productions of genius are perhaps more fre¬
quently than otherwise the results of mighty, but
transient effort, following, and again to be succeed¬
ed by, long intervals of inaction. Whilst we re¬
joice at what is done, we sigh to reflect how much
that was possible, is left undone. O, had that intel¬
lect wrought thus powerfully, without ceasing, how
stupendous would have been the result of its ulti¬
mate effort, how gloriously would it have dispelled
the darkness of ignorance, and how widely would it
have poured the light of truth upon the intellect of
man.
Now, against this malady of our race, the pressure
of this vis inertia of our fallen nature, ardent piety
is surely the best preservative ; it teaches a man the
full weight of those obligations which bind him to
the God who made him, and to the Saviour who re¬
deemed him ; it teaches him that every intellectual
power is a most precious talent, and every moment
of time an invaluable treasure, and that God hath
required him to improve them to the uttermost. He
cannot be idle, nay, he cannot be frivolous, without
11
being sinful, and he cannot be sinful without griev¬
ing the God whom he loves. Every principle which
animates his bosom, teaches him to put forth every
energy in the cause of Christ, that so he may finish
his course with joy, and the ministry which he has
received of the Lord Jesus.
And beside this, the motives which influence him
are such as call forth his powers to the uttermost.
His own soul is at stake. The slothful servant was
cast out, not because he had wasted his Lord's mo¬
ney, but because he had not improved it. The
souls of other men are at stake. Eternal interests,
the destinies of his people, tremendous thought! are
connected, most intimately connected, with his ex¬
ertions. He would secure for himself and for them,
salvation from a doom, in comparison with which all
that can be conceived of sublunary infelicity vanish¬
es to a point ; and the bliss which he would attain is
such that every thing earthly sustains to it only the
relation of finite to infinity. The frown of God
awes him. The favour of God animates him. The
love of Christ constrains him. He looks abroad
over the wide field of seen and unseen being, and every
thing urges him to strenuous, to agonizing labour.
From time and from eternity, from things present
and from things to come, from death and from judg¬
ment, from Heaven and from hell, a voice addresses
him, saying, whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it
with thy might; for there is no knowledge, nor work,
nor device, in the grave.
And yet, again, the subjects on which a man of
deep devotion loves best to contemplate, are pre-
12
eminently adapted to impart vigour and expansiveness
to every power of the soul. Such a man has to do,
not with things which are seen, which are temporal,
but with things that are not seen, which are eternal.
He expatiates not over this little limited sphere of
sensible materialism, but over that glorious region
of uncreated purity which revelation discloses to the
eye of faith. The perfections of God ; the illustra¬
tions of his ever acting power ; the transcendant
combinations of his unfathomable wisdom ; the
awful exhibitions of his spotless holiness ; the af¬
fecting displays of his inconceivable love ; tbe mys¬
teries of providence and of redemption, and all the
various aspects in which these are presented, by
aught that has been seen in the visible, or revealed
in the invisible world ; these are the subjects of his
reverential meditation. Tell me now, whether there
be any other man, whose contemplations are so
adapted to mental elevation, as those of the humble
believer in Jesus. I pass by the worshippers of
pleasure and of gain. I entreat you, compare the
daily intellectual occupations of an habitually devout
man, with the investigations of the philosopher, the
labours of the historian, or the calculations of the
politician, and tell me which is most worthy of the ca¬
pacities of man. It was by habitually meditating
upon such subjects as these, that prophets and apos¬
tles, though unlearned and illiterate men, poured
over the oracles which they delivered, the resplendent
lustre of an unearthly eloquence. And thus the
English Homer, drinking deeply from the sacred
fountains, and ñlling his soul with the conceptions
13
of revelation, bore away the palm of genius from
classic antiquity, and stands, confessed, the sublimest
of uninspired men. If, then, we desire to cultivate
the faculties with which God has endowed us ; if we
would gird ourselves for vigorous and successful
mental exertion, while we bless the Father of our
spirits who hath thus connected together our intel¬
lectual and moral improvement, let us give ourselves
to the diligent study of the sacred Scriptures, and to
high and intimate communion with the uncreated
Holy One.
But this intellect, in a minister of Christ, is to be
applied to a particular purpose—the investigation of
divine truth. His business is to teach men the will
of God. That will is revealed in the holy Oracles ;
and it is to be known by diligently applying to the
study of them, whatever of intellectual or moral
power the man may possess. Let us, then, in the
next place, inquire what assistance ardent piety will
render a man in the acquisition of divine truth.
11. The great obstacle to progress, in every de¬
partment of science, has always been the pride of
the human intellect. In physics, when men, instead
of inquiring what were the facts, were engrossed in
the framing of theories, and the constructing of ar¬
guments à priori, the result was such as might have
been expected. Each succeeding age demolished
the labours of its predecessor, and the last was as
far off from truth as any that had gone before
it. There was but one avenue to light, and this
avenue having closed up by the arrogance of man,
the finest intellects of our race groped about, age
14
after age, in darkness which might be felt; and,
let it be ever remembered, that, from this thick dark¬
ness of ages, it was humility which first delivered
us. When Philosophy, falsely so called, would draw
near unto Nature, not to hear what she taught, but
to dictate to her what she ought to teach. Nature,
enwrapping herself in the unearthly dignity of her
own mysterious invisibility, sate afar ofi", in lofty, un¬
broken silence; but so soon as man approached,
in childlike simplicity, and sate at her feet in the
spirit of reverent attention, then, and not till then,
did she put aside the darkness which surrounded
her, and reveal those mysteries which had been hid¬
den from the foundation of the world. And, since
the commencement of the true philosophy, the pro¬
gress of man in knowledge has been in the exact
ratio of his unfeigned humility. That man is the
soundest philosopher, who, with the most unpretend¬
ing deference, is most patiently watching the phe¬
nomena about him, and who is most willing to con¬
fess his ignorance as soon as he has arrived at the
limit where Nature spreads the veil over her pro¬
cesses, and where Fact furnishes no further infor¬
mation.
Thus also has it been in theology. The Bible
is, in morals, what the visible and tangible world is
in physics, a storehouse of ultimate facts. Upon the
subjects of which it treats, there is not, nor, without a
new revelation, can there be any knowledge beyond
or aside from what it teaches. And yet more ; to the
men who have approached it in the lofty consciousness
of their own wisdom, it has always remained, and the
15
veracity of ils Author is pledged that it ever shall
remain, a sealed book. The man may construct a
system, and it may be ingenious, and learned, and
able, and eloquent ; and he may show very clearly,
at least to his disciples, what the Bible ought to say ;
nay, more, what, in his opinion, it must of necessity
say, and he may persuade many a one that it hath
said it. But all this while he hath heard nothing
but the echo of his own voice ; the oracle itself hath
not yet spoken. He hath not advanced a single
hair's breadth in knowledge of the word of God ;
for God resistelh the proud, but showeth grace unto
the humble. And that man is making the greatest
progress in the knowledge of the Bible, who is
humbly and patiently applying his investigations to
the law and to the testimony, firmly, and yet calmly
resolved not to believe any thing which it does not
teach, and yet to believe all that it does teach, to the
veriest jot, and to the veriest tittle. God himself
hath promised that he will instruct such a man.
The meek will he guide in Judgment ; the meek will
he teach his way.
Now, this very disposition, of so much importance
in this sort of investigation, is precisely that which
ardent piety implants in the bosom of the student.
It fills him with an all-pervading conviction of the
utter incomprehensibleness of the wisdom of God,
and of the exceeding blindness of a creature of yes¬
terday. It teaches him his entire inability to decide,
à priori, upon the manner in which the Deity shall
exercise the high prerogative of manifesting his own
perfections. He dares not say what God would S""
16
or what God would do. The only question is, what
hath God said, and what hath God done ; and, this
being answered, he knows of no question beyond it.
When he approaches the oracle of God, it is to ulter
the awe-stricken supplication of the infant prophet,
speak. Lord, for thy servant heareth. Now the ve¬
racity of God is pledged, that he who thus looks to
him for instruction, though a wayfaring man, and a
fool, shall not err. Though the Lord be high, yet
hath he respect unto the lowly ; but the proud he
knoweth afar off. I thank thee, O Father, Lord of
heaven and earth, that thou hast hidden these things
from the wise and prudent, and hast revealed them
unto babes ; even so. Father, for so it seemeth good
in thy sight.
And here it would not be well to pass over the
fact, that the New Testament has clearly revealed an
intimate connexion which God has established be¬
tween the practical obedience to the divine will, and
the theoretical knowledge of it. Christ has assured
us, that moral light will be given to us, just in pro¬
portion as we improve the light which we enjoy.
To him that hath, or that improveth that which he
hath, shall be given, and he shall have abundance ;
but from him that hath not, shall be taken away even
that which he seemeth to have. You see, then, that
by virtue of this law of God's dispensation, the most
religious man must be the most successful student.
Whosoever will do his will, said the Saviour, he shall
know of the doctrine.
And, beside this, there is, accompanying high
attainments in piety, a delicacy of moral tact, which
17
is, in its very nature, one of the surest safeguards
against error. The more perfectly a man's heart is
in harmony with the true spirit of the revelation,
and the less there is about him which its lofty purity
would condemn, the more readily will he seize upon
its sense, amid all the learned variety of conflicting
interpretation. The meaning which the holiness of
its Author intended, the temper of holiness in the
good man's heart intuitively discovers. And thus,
other things being equal, nay, when other things are
not equal, the most devout man will be the best in¬
terpreter. And thus do we find that error in theo¬
logy has originated, not so much from weakness in
the head, as from pravity in the heart. And thus,
also, do we know, that many men, holding the noise¬
less tenor of their way in the uneducated walks of
an unregistered and unenumerated ministry, desti¬
tute of the helps of libraries, and ignorant of the
name and of the being of commentators and scho¬
liasts, and lexicographers and interpreters, guided
only by the dictates of common sense, illuminated
by a sanctified conscience, are deeply acquainted
with the revealed will of God, are mighty in bring¬
ing the truth to bear upon the consciences of men,
and are abundantly successful in winning souls unto
salvation.
Again, it is of importance to remark, that every
composition derives its form and pressure from the
peculiar feeling with which the writer was at the
moment imbued. Upon a shade of meaning, which
this peculiar feeling gives to a word, the very point
of an illustration, or thegist of an argument, not un-
3
18
frequently turns. Now, it is evident, that unless
there be in the reader a sympathy with the writer,
his finest passages may be unfelt and unintelligible.
You all have heard of the mathematician, who, for
want of this poetic sympathy, after reading the
Paradise Lost, shut up the book, with the question,
what does it prove ?
Now, all this applies with peculiar emphasis to
the authors of the sacred Scriptures. No men ever
wrote under the impulse of stronger excitement.
Their souls were burning with love to God, and
their imaginations were exalted by supernatural con¬
ceptions of the inefiable glory. It is only in pro¬
portion as we sympathize with their moral feeling,
that we shall enter into the spirit of the oracles which
they have delivered. To illustrate this by a single
case, you may form some conception of the inten¬
sity of feeling, and of the fulness of blessing, with
which such a man as David would utter the exclama¬
tion, O Lord, thou art my God. Now, you can easi¬
ly perceive that a whole psalm, or a whole passage^
might derive its meaning and significancy, from the
overwhelming gratitude with which he appropriated
Jehovah to himself, as his God. To an undevout
man, you see, at once, how all that was peculiar to
the sentiment would be unintelligible. And thus
it is evident, that just as we approach to the stand¬
ard of the writer's piety, shall we comprehend the
scope of their reasonings, and feel the pertinency of
their exhortations.
I cannot dismiss this branch of the subject, with¬
out adverting to one other topic of yet deeper inte-
19
rest. You know that before our Saviour ascended)
he promised to send the Holy Spirit to dwell with
his disciples, and bring all things to their remem¬
brance. And we believe, that this same Holy Spirit,
by whose teachings the men of God wrote, is, though
in a less degree, granted to those who study the
Bible with humility and prayer, to enlighten their
understandings, to elevate their affections, and to
impress the sacred truths upon their will, and upon
their conscience. And this assistance is most abun¬
dantly granted to the most holy men. Let us, then,
without ceasing, lift up our hearts to that Spirit,
" who, before all temples, doth prefer the upright
heart and pure ; that what in us is dark, he would
illumine, what is low, he would raise and support
or, in the language of that prayer, which the Spirit
himself indited, let us bow our knees unto the Fa¬
ther of our Lord Jesus Christ, of whom the whole
family in heaven and earth is named ; that he would
grant us, according to the riches of his glory, to be
strengthened with might by his Spirit in the inner man ;
that Christ may dwell in our hearts by faith ; that
we, being rooted and grounded in love, may be able,
with all saints, to comprehend what is the length,
and breadth, and depth, and height, and to know
the love of Christ, which passeth knowledge, that
we may be filled with all the fulness of God.
But, supposing this knowledge to be acquired, the
next duty of a minister is, to prepare in his closet to
bring it to bear upon the consciences of men. Let
us, in the last place, inquire, what assistance ardent
20
piety will afford him, in the performance of tliis part
of his labour.
III. The advantages of ardent piety may be
shown, in this respect, first, in the variety of illustra¬
tion with which it furnishes him. The mind of man,
by the principles of its constitution, associates every
thing with that which occupies the place of its mas¬
ter passion. It was said by Johnson, concerning
the author of the Seasons, " that man could not see
those two candles burning, without combining them
with a poetic image." And it is to this power of apt
analogy, this facility of associating the idea which
it would convey, with something grand or beautiful
in nature, or in sentiment, that poetry owes its fas¬
cination, and eloquence its effect. And thus is it
with him who would be a persuasive preacher of the
Gospel. He must catch the fleeting manners as they
rise, and make even the airy nothings, with which
men trifle, teach them a lesson of instruction. He
must seize upon the innumerable analogies which
subsist between the various departments of the divine
government, and, through this attractive medium,
convey to the heart, and impress upon the conscience,
the truths which shall make men wise unto salvation.
And this power, also, will high attainments in
piety confer upon a minister. The relations between
God and man being the continual subject of his
meditation, he will associate them with every thing
which he sees in the universe around him. The
beautiful and the terrific in nature, the manners of
men, the relations of society, the dispensations of
providence, all will furnish him with some illustra-
21
tion in morals, some vehicle by which he may con¬
vey truth to the consciences of men.
Again, elevated attainments in piety invest a
man with a moral power over the conscience, which
nothing else can confer.
As in water, face answereth ^o face, so the heart
of man to man. He who sees moral relations clear¬
ly, can illustrate them clearly, and may make men
to understand them. If, however, he have nothing
else than clearness of understanding, he will adect
nothing but their understanding. They will hear,
and see, but they will not feel. He must deeply
feel what he inculcates, or he will not make them
feel it. What ! Can a man, who is frequently over¬
come with temptation, urge upon others the impor¬
tance of holinessCan he, who has but slight and
imperfect views of the heinousness of sin, make other
men feel the plague of their own heartsCan he,
whose thoughts are mostly upon the things of time,
arouse other men to think upon the things of eterni¬
ty.'' No, brethren, out of the abundance of the
heart the mouth speaketh. Unless our own con¬
sciences be habitually awake, we cannot expect to
arouse the consciences of others.
Here, then, I fear, my brethren, is one reason why
our ministrations produce so little effect upon others.
It is because we feel those ministrations so feebly our¬
selves. Were we more frequently in the spirit of Isaiah,
when he saw the Lord upon a throne, high and lifted
up, and fell prostrate before the Holy One, our exhor¬
tations would not fall powerless from our lips, nor our
hearers go away thoughtless, when we told them of
22
the terrors of the judgment seat of Christ. Our
only help is in growing better, in striving to im¬
press a deeper conviction of the truth upon our own
consciences, and to obtain a greater conformity to
the law of God in our own hearts. Just in propor¬
tion as we are delivered from the power of sin, shall
we see its utter odiousness. Just in proportion as
we are inflamed with love to God, shall we see the
justice of his requirements, and with clearness and
pungency press them home upon the moral sense of
man.
And, lastly, ardent piety conduces to ministerial
efiect, by the desire of eflfect which it inspires.
In morals, as in intellect, will is power. Deter¬
mination supplies the means for carrying itself for¬
ward into result. Other things being equal, that
man will most certainly convince us, who is most de¬
sirous to convince us.
Now, this desire of efiect, nothing but ardent piety
will supply. Sectarian zeal will not do it ; the
love of popularity will not do it ; the desire of
professional emolument will not do it ; or, should
any of them commence, they cannot sustain it. A
thousand circumstances may baffle expectation, or
disappoint hope, and leave the man motiveless and
motionless, a burden to the ministry, and the re¬
proach of his profession.
He must have, what nothing but ardent piety will
give him, an intense desire for the salvation of
souls. Let him be warmed to ecstacy with the love
of God; let his home be in eternity; let the full
weight of Heaven to be enjoyed, and hell to be en-
23
dured, rest upon him; let him estimate the full value
of a soul, and habitually remember that souls are
committed to his charge, and he cannot but speak
with effect. Every thing about him will hear the
impression of religion. He will be at no loss to
know the times and occasions for inculcating his
message. His hearers will catch the temper with
which he is imbued. God will descend with the in¬
fluences of his Spirit. The minister and people will
he men of prayer, and full of the Holy Ghost ; and
much people will he added unto the Lord.
Two very brief reflections will complete this dis¬
course.
1st. I surely need not say what is the instruction
which we, who minister at the altar, should derive
from this subject. It teaches us that we, whose bu¬
siness is the moral improvement of man, should make
our own moral improvement the first, pre-eminently
the first, object of our attention. While we seek for
the knowledge which this world can give, and seek
for it earnestly and industriously, let us not, in our
love for learning, mistake the means for the end.
Let us not, while we are burnishing the weapon,
palsy the arm by which it is to he wielded. Let us
seek to be examples, principally in penitence, in
faith, in self-denial, in humility, in heavenly minded-
ness. These, if we have nothing else, will make us
ministers who will be approved of God. Without
these, all other preparation will be useless. And these
are the attributes which will, most surely, give us that
success which we desire ; they will make us able mi-
\
24
nisters of the New Testament, not of the word, but of
the spirit.
2d. To all of us the subject presents another
lesson of instruction. It teaches us what we should
most earnestly desire, and most devoutly pray for,
on behalf of the ministers of the Cross. It is that
they may be men of prayer, and full of the Holy
Ghost. If they be such men, the church of God
will prosper, whatever may betide her. If they be
not, there may be the form of godliness, there may
be the splendour of rank, and the pride of influence,
and the glory of learning, but Ichabod is written on
the gates of our Zion, for the glory is departed.
Her moral power exists not. Let us, then, without
ceasing, pray thai the Holy Spirit may be poured out
abundantly on the ministers of religion ; that they may
be very holy men ; that God would clothe his priests
with salvation ; that his saints may shout aloud for joy.
The discussion of the subject is finished. I trust,
however, that you will bear with me, while I allude,
very briefly, to the circumstances under which we are
this evening assembled.
This occasion is, in a degree unusual even to such
services, interesting to myself. On this spot I first
heard proclaimed the Gospel of Jesus Christ. My
parents were among the earliest members of this
church. The first minister whom I remember, was
the immediate predecessor of the present pastor of
this parent church, and the father of the candidate
for the office of the ministry in that which has just
been constituted. Many years have elapsed since I
waited upon the instructions of that venerable man.
25
Since then, I have seen many meek, many holy,
many humble, many able, many peace-making,
ministers of the New-Testament,—but I have seen
yet no one that has reminded me of John Williams.
To every one of you is this a moment of thrilling
interest. This ancient church, and her beloved
pastor, are about to part with many of their brethren,
endeared to them by everj' tie of Christian affection.
Already has the parting hand been given ; and now,
for the first time, do you recognise the fact, that you
are not, in all respects, one. You have, this evening,
united in setting over those who leave you, as their
pastor, a brother beloved both for his own, and for
his father's sake. It is not division. It is not sepa¬
ration. It is only impressing your own image again
upon another portion of the Christian church, that
they may, in another place, more brightly show forth
the praises of Him who hath called them.
To this newly constituted church, and the pastor
who is now to be set over them in the Lord, this is
also an occasion of absorbing interest. You go,
brethren, to raise the standard of the Cross in
another part of this city. The tears, the hopes, the
prayers of your brethren, go with you. Go, and
make known to your dying fellow men, Jesus Christ,
and him crucified. Go, relying on his Holy Spirit,
to make that message effectual to the conversion of
sinners, and the edification of saints. Go, and cul¬
tivate the meekness, the charity, the benevolence, the
self-denial, the purity of the blessed Gospel, and the
Saviour himself shall go with you. The eyes of
your brethren, of the churches, of the Redeemer, are
4
26
upon you. See that ye walk worthy of the vocation
with which ye are called, unto all well pleasing.
And now, may the God of peace, that brought again
from the dead our Lord Jesus Christ, that great
Shepherd of the sheep, through the blood of the
everlasting covenant, make^ou perfect in every good
work, to do his will, working in you that which is
well pleasing in his sight, through.Christ Jesus, to
whom be glory for ever and ever. Amen.
ERRATA.
The author, not having had an opportunity of examining the proof sheets
of the preceding Di^'Couree, requests the reader to make the foDuwing correctious :
Paged, fifth line from the top, for "leave the cart to him," ice., read—
* ' leave the case to him."
Same page, sixth line from the bottom, for " looking from and into eternity,"
read—" looking/orward into eternity," ¿o.
Page 8, third line of the second paragraph, for—"powers of mind," read—
" powers of the mind."
Page 9, thirteenth line from the top, for " present care and future glory," read
—" present ease and future glory."
Page 10, ninth line from tjie top, for " and those who succeed toill devote,"
&c., read—" those who succeed well^ devote," &c.
Same page, second line of the second paragraph, for " vis inertia,read— tj?>
Page 13, last lino but one, read—" this avenue having been closed uj>,*' &c.
• A
DISCOURSE,
DELIVERED
AT THE INSTALLATION
OF
THE REV. ANDREW BIGELOW,
AT TAUNTON,
APRIL 10, 1833.
BY JOHN BRAZER,
PASTOR OF THE NORTH CHDRCH IK SALEM.
CAMBRIDGE:
CHARLES FOLSOM,
PRIKTEH TO THI ONIVERSITY
1833.
DISCOURSE.
jtjhn xiv. 27. " Peace I leave with voü, mv peace I give unto vou
not as the world civeth, give I unto tod."
Assembled, as we are, to introduce a friend and brothe;
into the ministry of reconciliation in this place, I have though
I could not better meet the claims of the service which has heei
devolved upon me, than by asking your attention to a charac¬
teristic trait in the conduct of our common Lord and Master
Jesus Christ. It is one which, under all the circumstances o
the case, must he deemed very striking and extraordinary, hu
which hitherto seems to have received little or no attention.'"
It is that pervading calmness, collectedness, tranquillity, and
repose of spirit, which in all the trying vicissitudes of his event¬
ful life he habitually manifested.
I unaffectedly fear that I shall not he able to give a tolerably
faithful transcript even of my own views of this subject, imper¬
fect as they are. Impressions of character, as we all may have
observed, either as exhibited in narrative, or in real life, though
very distinct and vivid in the general result, are yet exceedingly
* 'When this sermon was written, a volume, entitled " Discourses,"
recently published in Boston, had not appeared. The author of this
feels much strengthened in some of the positions he has taken, by ob¬
serving an occasional coincidence in the train of thought pursued in the
following pages, with that in the second discourse in the volume
above referred to, on the " Character of Christ."
4
difficult to be traced into the precise elements from which
they spring. It is difficult to bring them distinctly before our
own minds, and still more so, to place them before the minds
of others. Like the effect of a fine picture, they are very
vivid, and are received at once, and, indeed, often at a glance ;
but they are yet the combined product of countless minute
lines and tints and touches, and a harmonious blending of light
and shade which baffles all distinct analysis, and are to be
seen and felt, rather than described.
I wish that this remark may be kept in view, in the discus¬
sion on which we are now entering. I am well aware that I
shall need, at every step as we advance, the apology thus fur¬
nished by the inherent difficulty of the task.. In attempting to
illustrate a distinctive feature in the character of our Lord, I
can only refer, and that too in a very cursory manner, to
certain facts and circumstances in his life and conduct ; while
the only fitting illustration of them, is to be derived from an
attentive study of the whole of his history, pursued with an
especial reference to the subject.
By those traits of calmness, composure, and tranquillity of
spirit, which thus peculiarly distinguish the character of our
Lord, I do not mean, simply,.the absence of all hasty and fluc¬
tuating excitement ; nor an external quietness and gravity of
manner merely, which may be the result of training, or the
expression of coldness and torpor of heart ; nor yet an equa¬
nimity which springs from indifference, and want of interest in
surrounding objects ; but something wholly distinct and difier-
ent from all this ; — namely, an elevated composure of mind,
and a serene, quiet, self-collected, self-sustained bearing, united
with an all-pervading, untiring earnestness of purpose. His
mien and deportment were those of one " to whom the mys¬
teries of this life were all solved," of one who had, as he said
of himself, " overcome the world." A divine repose seemed
to rest upon him, and pervade his whole being ; but it was a
ö
repose instinct with energy, and fraught with conscious power.
His reigning desires reached forward to a future and everlasting
good ; yet he ever held a kind and an aifcctionate communion
with present objects. He was exposed to trial and conflict in
a thousand forms, but yet, prevailingly, seemed to enjoy per¬
fect inward peace, that " peace of God, which passeth all
understanding." He evidently felt himself pledged to the
accomplishment of a design, unspeakably the most august that
was ever offered to the conception of mortals, even the estab¬
lishment of an universal religion, which was to extend through
all future time, and involve the everlasting destinies of the hu¬
man race. Yet he never wavered in his grand purpose, and
never sank beneath it. He knew, further, that this stupendous
work could only be carried forward by his own toils and suffer¬
ings, and consummated by his death ; yet he never shrunk
from the awful responsibilities which were laid upon him ; and
all merely personal references seemed to be wholly merged
and lost in the view of the infinite blessings which were to fol¬
low. His whole soul was obviously filled with the great object
of his mission ; but it was a sentiment too deep and full and
strong, to admit of sudden agitation or fitful changes. He was
ever fervent in spirit, ever pressing on to the high objects before
him, but never, how remarkable ! — never became the agent
or the victim of any species of fanaticism, or of excessive zeal.
He was tenderly " alive to each fine impulse " of the affec¬
tions ; there never was a heart more open to impression, and
to all generous attachments, than his ; he felt for all ; he labored
for all ; he suffered for all ; he was ready to die for all ; — still
he yielded to no feverish excitements ; to no blind extrava¬
gance of emotion ; but was habitually the same, habitually
gentle, mild, sedate, quiet, and always consistent with himself.
He rose superior to the outward vicissitudes of life, and seemed
never to have experienced those secret misgivings, those blight¬
ing despondencies, which, in tender and sensitive natures, so
6
often enervate, depress, and cripple the active powers. Popu¬
lar applause, and popular anathemas, were alike to him, as
empty noises. In the turmoil and conflicts of the moral world
around him, he ever appeared with the same divine serenity,
which we may suppose shone around him, when he was seen
by his anxious disciples, walking on the troubled waves, amidst
the raging storm, and said to them, " Be of good cheer, it is I ;
be not afraid." In fine, devoted to his all-important duties ;
inspired with his high motives ; bending the whole energies of
his moral powers, in their fullest developement, to his great
objects ; ever looking, in meek confidence, to grand results as
already won, he went onward to their solemn accomplishment, in
a serene self-reliance, in an assured trust in the favor and help
of God, in a calm strength of purpose, in an unbroken tran¬
quillity of spirit, truly unearthly, truly sublime.
And now am I asked for proofs and illustrations of this?
They lie in those very brief narratives of parts of his life and
public ministry, which have been given by some of his imme¬
diate followers ; and he who will read these in the spirit in
which they ought to be read, will not fail to find them. . I can
only, on this occasion, advert to a few specific instances, which
may serve to indicate the nature of the inquiry.
I. Of this description is the calmness, the freedom from
all excitement, the composure of mind, with which his miracles
were performed. Indeed, this is truly wonderful, when we
consider the character of the individual, and the circumstances
of the case. Here was a person, born in obscurity, in a remote
corner of the world, without powerful friends, or patrons, or
peculiar resources of any kind ; but who, notwithstanding,
claimed to be, in a high and peculiar sense, the Son of God.
He feels himself to be that promised Messiah, upon whom the
hopes of his people had long rested, but knew, at the same
time, that his views of the character and office of this person-
7
age differed entirely from theirs. He believes himself to be
called upon by a divine impulse, to preach a religion which was
to supersede that of his fathers, overthrow all the time-hallowed
institutions of his nation, scatter his people to the ends of the
earth, go forth among the nations conquering and to con¬
quer, and finally to rule supreme in the hearts of men.
This religion, he was well aware, could only be established by
such " mighty works as none could do unless God were with
him." When, therefore, the period came which was to deter¬
mine the reality of his character and of his pretensions, would
it have been strange, if he had discovered some solicitude,
some anxiety, concerning the result ? Yet nothing of this ap¬
pears. He performed all these mighty works with an entire
equanimity, with no apprehension concerning the result, and
with a perfect balance of mind. He poured light into the
sealed eye, he pierced the deaf ear, he cured the hopeless
disease, and broke in upon and altered the regular course of
nature, with the same unmoved and quiet self-possession, as if
he were performing any ordinary act of life. He used the
simplest language, and had altogether the air of one who was
engaged in his habitual and appropriate business. The same
general remark applies to the nature of the miracles themselves,
and to his choice of time and occasion for the performance ct
them. In all these respects, indeed, they were well calculated
to authenticate the divinity of his mission, but they were not
such as a highly excited mind would naturally have selected.
They were of the most quiet and unobtrusive character possi¬
ble. None could gainsay or resist their evidence ; but they
were as little adapted to produce an effect (a sensation, in the
modern sense of the term,) as can well be imagined. So far
from being of a kind to render them notorious and imposing,
they were, almost without exception, devoted to the alleviation
of private and individual misery. And then, too, in the achieve¬
ment of these mighty works there was no assembling of multi-
8
tudes ; there were no public annunciations ; there Were no
heralds in the streets to awaken public attention ; there Were
no busy emissaries going from house to house, to gather
witnesses and admirers j there were no efforts to forestall
applause ; but they were performed incidentally, as it seemed,
with no preparation of means, and wholly without parade,—now
at feasts, now at private interviews, now by the way-side, now
as he sought shelter from the burning sun, and, in general, in his
ordinary journeys from place to place. Of the same quiet and
composed character, also, was the conduct of Jesus at the ac¬
complishment of these stupendous displays of superhuman pow¬
er. There was no self-glorying, no exulting over his enemies.
And is not this remarkable, when he well knew that he was dog¬
ged at every step by those who believed and declared him to be
an impostor ; who looked upon him with envious and distrustful
eyes j who would have made almost any sacrifice to have been
enabled to falsify his pretensions j and who would have followed
any failure of his with triumphant scoffs and measureless derision?
A similar calmness and tranquil bearing were also exhibited
on the same occasion towards his friends. These had left all
to follow him ; and, had he proved false or self-deluded, would
have been thrown back upon the contempt and insult of the
world which they had deserted for his sake. They were filled
then, as well they might be, with admiration and delight at these
decisive proofs of the reality of his character ; but he seems
scarcely to have shared in their joy, or to have sympathized in
their triumphs. And thus in the midst of enemies who were
struck dumb in dismay at the accomplishment of these astonish¬
ing ^works, and of friends who exulted in these proofs of their
well-placed confidence, he, the mighty agent in the scene, seems
to be the only one in the excited circle who was wholly unmov¬
ed ; he alone in all this tumult of opposite and conflicting emo¬
tions remains calm, composed, serene. He thus gave the high¬
est proof of an equal mind, in this superiority to the intoxicat-
9
ing influences of success. The pervading sentiment of his
soul amidst all these strong and eventful transactions was a
deep-felt, but an entirely calm and quiet emotion of gratitude
towards his Father in heaven, who had thus placed the seal of
omnipotence upon his labors. Is not this settled tranquillity and
repose of spirit, my friends, at such a time, and in such circum¬
stances, most wonderful ? Does it not stand in unapproached,
I had almost said, unapproachable moral sublimity ?
These peculiar circumstances will he found to mark all the
miracles of our Lord. This is not the time or place for much
detail ; and I shall refer only to a very few examples as speci¬
mens of all the rest.
The first miracle which appears on the record of our Sa¬
viour's life, was performed, as you will recollect, at a feast.
His whole conduct on this occasion was as quiet, noiseless, and
unobtrusive, as possible. Indeed, and it is worthy of remark,
his peculiar agency does not appear to have been known to
any but the servants who were in attendance.
When the anxious nobleman came to him to heal his son,
who was at the point of death, so far from manifesting any ex¬
ulting emotion in the acknowledged possession of a power
which brought the great men of the earth to him as suppliants,
he simply says, " Go thy way, thy son liveth."
When the wretched leper came to him for aid, he reached
forth his hand and merely said, " I will ; be thou clean." He
then dismissed him to comply with the law which Moses had
prescribed in those cases in which this dreaded disease was
cured, and enjoined silence, lest the present fame of his deeds
should interfere with the future objects of his mission. In this
dignified compliance with the established customs of his coun¬
try, in this thoughtful reference to the eíFects of his conduct,
we perceive the collectedness and composure of his spirit.
When he met, accidentally as it seems, the burial procession
near the city of Nain, he first addressed to the widowed mo-
2
10
ther, who was bemoaning the death of her only son, the simple
expression of sympathy and kindness, "Weep not." He then
touched the bier, and bade the young man arise. " And he
that was dead," says the narrative, " sat up, and began to speak.
And the Lord delivered him to his mother." This is the whole
history of the transaction. Thus it was, in circumstances most
mournful and exciting, in the performance of a deed whose
power and grandeur render all other great actions which have
astonished the world, in comparison, insignificant, even tliough
they could be compressed into one, and exhibited with all the
circumstances of pomp and show in which the world delights;
thus simply was it, thus calmly, thus wholly without the appear¬
ance of effort, thus apparently without an additional throbbing
of the pulse, that this mighty deed was done.
With one other example I shall conclude this part of the
subject. It is the raising of the daughter of Jairus from deatli
to life. Here, in that compassionate spirit which was always
alive to human suffering, he first in a few words attempted to
console and sustain the weeping father. He then passed
calmly on to the chamber of death, equally unmoved by the
clamors of the multitude, which, according to the custom of the
East, had assembled to bewail the departed with loud and mourn¬
ful acclamations, and by the derision of others who attempted to
" laugh him to scorn." Then, avoiding all unnecessary pub¬
licity, he excluded all but the parents and immediate friends of
the child, took her by the hand, and said, " Arise." And while,
in the simple language of the record, all, both friends and foes,
" were astonished with great astonishment," our Lord " charged
them straitly that no man should know it " ; and then remem¬
bering, what they in their wonder and amazement had probably
forgotten, namely, the immediate welfare of the child, he com¬
manded that " something should be given her to eat." Is d®'
this unbroken self-possession, this calm energy, this grave aad
tender thoughtfulness, this freedom from all sympathy with the
11
excited crowds around him, this shunning of all noise and pa¬
rade, this absence of all self-magnifying and of self-reference
of every kind, this serene elevation above all feeling but tbat
of affectionate sympathy with suffering, most wonderful ? are
they not nearly as wonderful as the wondrous works them¬
selves ?
II. The same characteristic traits of calmness, collectedness,
and repose of spirit, were, in the next place, manifested in the
whole substance and manner of the public teaching of our
Lord, considered as the Founder of a new religion. Nothing
can he more plain, simple, practical, more free from all enthu¬
siasm, extravagance, and excess, than the instructions of Jesus
Christ. He insisted upon no mysteries, or mystical rites, in
which the rapt and excited mind loves to involve itself. He
prescribed no austerities, which are the natural resource and
aliment of superstition. He appointed no observances] that
are incompatible with the regular, tranquil, and faithful perform¬
ance of the common duties of life. If we may apply the terms
calmness and tranquillity to a system of faith and duty, there
never was a more calm and tranquil system than his. The world
has never received so plain, downright, solid, practicable, and,
at the same time, so far-reaching and comprehensive a code of
Ethics, as is the Sermon on the Mount. And the same is true
of all the teachings of Jesus. We find, indeed, a strong
and fervent zeal inculcated, hut it is a zeal tempered by love,
and taught of wisdom. We find, it is true, religion made the
great and first concern ; hut it is appointed to this supremacy,
only that it may introduce order, system, proportion, harmony,
and peace into all the subordinate parts of conduct. It post¬
pones the concerns of this life to those of another, hut it is only
that it may give to our conduct its true aim and significance ;
and because it is thus, and only thus, that ever this life can he
rendered available either to our highest improvement or happi¬
ness.
12
It is obviously impossible to show by particular illustratioD,
at this time, the justness of tliis view of the public instructions
of our Lord. It will I think he very generally admitted. And
that it i s substantially correct, may he inferred from the fact,
that it is one which enthusiasts and fanatics do not choose to
dwell upon or inculcate. You may commonly 6ud them em¬
ployed, not in recommending these solid, practical, and sub¬
stantial truths and precepts of the Gospel, hut upon some spec¬
ulations and theories and inferences of their own, for which
they claim, and doubtless often honestly think they possess, a
Gospel authority.
And what is thus true of the religious system of our Mas¬
ter, is equally characteristic of his manner of teaching it. In
this there was a pervading simplicity, sobriety, and affecting
seriousness, a calmness and deep repose, which are in entire
keeping, so to speak, with his alleged character as the Son of
God, and also with the high and all-concerning import of his
theme. There was no parading of language, no flaunting
rhetoric, no exaggerated statement, no heated appeal to the
passions. It was instinct with feeling indeed, hut it was a
feeling too deep to express itself in any hut the simplest lan¬
guage. It was fervent, but equable. It was direct, strong,
decisive, and uncompromising in its tone ; but it was at the
same time unaffectedly mild, gentle, calm, and bland. In
fine, as a Teacher of righteousness, he seemed to strike all
who approached him with a sense of grandeur and awe. "The
multitude were astonished, for he taught them as one having
authority." " Never man spake like this man," said the of¬
ficers who were sent to apprehend him, and shrank in conse¬
quence from thè fulfilment of their duty. In this, as in all
his public ministry, he seemed to live above the present
scene while he was in it ; and though called, in prosecution of
his great objects, to mingle in the fluctuations and conflicts of
this lower world, his spirit ever appeared to dwell in the
13
n
serenity, tranquillity, and peace of the world he came to
reveal.
How unlike in this respect, — it wonld seem almost a pro¬
fanation to advert to them in connexion with the example of
our Lord, were it not that it may serve to illustrate the sub¬
ject before us by the contrast,—how unlike were the man¬
ner and bearing of our Lord, as a preacher of truth, to those
of many who teach in his name ! How unlike was his sub¬
lime tranquillity to the excited, inflamed, importunate, noisy,
boisterous zeal of many who claim to be his exclusive follow¬
ers ! The contrast is wide indeed. The diflerence is all but
infinite. And it is difiicult to avoid the suggestion whether
such wholly opposite results can emanate from the same
source.
III. It remains that I advert to similar traits of calmness
and tranquillity in the habitual conduct of our Lord, and es¬
pecially under circumstances which were peculiarly calculat¬
ed to excite and disturb the mind. I must here, as before,
confine myself to a few examples j though I feel, as I have
felt throughout the discourse, that the only adequate illustra¬
tion is to be found in the narratives of our Saviour's daily
walk.
One striking example of his habitual composure is found
in the manner in which be met the opposition and opprobri¬
ous treatment of the Jews. To the language of insult and
menace, he ordinarily replied by some beneficent act, which
put its unworthiness in the strongest possible light; or else,
he calmly confuted his accusers by arguing with them upon
their own grounds, and upon the broad and admitted prin¬
ciples of human conduct. Thus, when charged with blas¬
phemy for saying to the man sick of the palsy, " Thy sins be
forgiven thee," his mild reply was, " Whether is easier to say.
Thy sins be forgiven thee, or to say, Arise and walk." He
then by a miraculous cure showed that he assumed no power
which he could not vindicate and maintain.
14
Another instance is his reply to them who accused him
of casting out demons, by the agency of the prince of demons,
showing that, on their own principles and belief, their charge
must be wholly futile ; and of the same character also was his
reply to those who accused him of eating with publicans and
sinners.
In like manner, when pursued, as he continually was, by
the cavillings and persecutions of the Scribes and Pharisees,
instead of replying in the spirit in which they were offered,
he made all their injurious treatment the occasion and means
of valuable instniction, and of new displays of the calm dig¬
nity and elevation of his own character.
Thus, when his disciples are accused of eating with un-
washen hands, he engrafts on his reply to this charge, the
necessity of internal purity.
When a criminal is brought before him for the purpose of
leading him into collision with the civil or ecclesiastical tribu¬
nals of the country, he not only avoids the snare that is laid
for him, but sends his enemies away with a new lesson of the
necessity of personal innocence, and, especially, to those who
would sit in judgment over others. In like manner were
suggested his instructions concerning the right use of the
Sabbath ; of humility ; of kindness to the poor, rather than
to the rich ; of the equal and boundless love of God, as set
forth in the parables of tbe lost sheep and of the lost piece
of money, and in that matchless story of the prodigal son; of
the true value and just use of wealth ; of the sin and danger
of covetousness ; of the extent of human responsibleness ; of
perseverance in prayer ; of the sin of spiritual pride ; and of
the meaning and extent of the great law of Christian love.
A similar remark is to be made of the deportment of our
Lord, when tried by the suspicions, weakness, and forward¬
ness of his friends. And this, all must admit, is a hard trial
indeed. How mild and beautiful, for example, was his reply
15
to the injurious inferences of Simon the Pharisee, who
doubted his prophetic character, because he did not repel the
attentions of the woman who brought the alabaster-box and
ointment, " since she was a sinner." Perhaps there is noth¬
ing in the language of men more full of quiet, touching pathos,
than this whole scene.
Another instance is furnished by his gentle rebuke to James
and John, who, indignant at the refusal of the Samaritans to
permit him to pass through one of their villages on his last
journey from Galilee to Jerusalem, to observe the feast of
Tabernacles, would call down fire from heaven upon them.
"Ye know not," said he, " what spirit ye are of." His whole
deportment to the faithless Thomas and the impetuous Pe¬
ter ; towards those three favorite disciples, " who could not
watch one hour," during his agony in the garden ; and, in a
word, towards all his immediate friends, in their blindness and
mistakes, — was marked by the same benign tranquillity, the
same considerate tenderness towards human errors.
There is one occasion on which the calmness and tranquil¬
lity of our Lord were signally exhibited, which I cannot wholly
pass by ; but they can only be adequately understood and felt
as they appear, or rather as they are to be inferred, from the
simple narrative of the historians. I refer to his conduct in
that period which brings our whole souls, and all that is within
us, to the test ; — the near prospect of death. The hour, which,
from the first, and throughout his eventful ministry, he knew
was to be the consummation of his labors, — the hour of a
public, protracted, violent, and ignominious death, — was now
nigh at hand. In view of this event, with all its attendant
horrors, he is at first tempted to pray that he may be excused
from encountering them. " Now," said he, " now is my
soul troubled ; and what shall I say? Father, save me from
this hour ? " But the thought is instantly dismissed. These
sufferings, he recollected, were the appointed termination of
16
his message of love to man, and he immediately subjoins,
" But for this cause came I to this hour ; " and then, in set¬
tled resignation of spirit, gives himself up entirely to his God ;
" Father, glorify thy name." I cannot, and I need not, reca¬
pitulate the sad events which led on to the final catastrophe.
You remember the deep tenderness, and yet the pervading
composure, which marked his conduct during his parting in¬
terview with his followers. You remember his collected and
tranquil deportment towards that very betrayer, who was now
seated by him as a friend, but who, he well knew, was about to
sell his life for gold. He upbraids him not. He does not say
to him. You, Judas, you, my chosen associate and seeming fol¬
lower, you, who with such horrible hypocrisy have thus come to
join me at this solemn feast, have done this deed of darkness.
He uses no language like this, at once so natural, and so well
justified by the occasion ; but in a spirit of entire superiority to
all irritation and excitement, he simply says, " One of you
shall betray me," leaving to the conscience of the traitor the
application of the words. In the same spirit he dismisses
him, with saying, " That thou doest, do quickly." You
remember with what calmness, and yet with what deep afiec-
tion, his parting counsels were given to his remaining disci¬
ples. You remember that last prayer, filled with tenderness
and pathos unspeakable, yet wholly free from all excess of
feeling and weak emotion. You remember what new strength
and composure he seemed to derive from his communion with
his God in the garden of Gethsemane. You remember
the manner in which he received that kiss, by which the
traitor pointed out his victim ; and the serene and majestic
bearing, with which he offered himself to the infuriated mul¬
titude, who went out against him with swords and staves,
as against a thief, and before which they quailed, and
fainted, and fell to the ground. You rernember his reproof ■
to the hasty Peter ; his declining all aid from his friends,
17
on the express and avowed ground that he was determftied to
fulfill all the prophecies concerning him ; his dignified silence,
when assailed by the idle stories of the false witnesses ; his
firm and solemn reassertion of all his former claims, when
properly adjured by the High Priest, and by Pilate the gov¬
ernor. You remember his mild expostulation at the court of
Caiaphas, when, while yet uncondemned, he was outrageously
insulted in his person ; and his uniformly grave, sedate, and
composed deportment at his mock trial, before his irresolute
and prejudiced judges. You remember his address to the
daughters of Jerusalem, while on his way to Calvary, which
indicated a total forgetfulness of his own sufferings in a pro¬
phetic view of theirs ; and that kindred instance of affection¬
ate thoughtfulness, in which he commended his mother to
his favorite disciple. You remember how he refused the
drugged portion which was offered to him, for the purpose of
deadening his sensibility to suffering, lest his faculties should
be clouded or impaired, during the dreadful sufferings before
him. You remember,—who, indeed, can ever forget? —
that during hour after hour of dreadful anguish, after he was
nailed to the accursed tree, by spikes driven through his
hands and feét ; hung up between heaven and earth ; and
exposed to every species of mockery and insult, from an in¬
furiated mob, until he was privileged to die ; he exhibited
the same pervading calmness, the same unbroken tranquillity
of spirit, he had ever manifested in life.
This is offered as a sketch of a trait in the character of our
Lord, which, in this age of religious excitement, is not enough
regarded. I know not that it will strike other minds as it
does my own. But if it be both peculiar and remarkable, let
it be remembered that it is fraught with very significant in¬
struction. Of the many reffections it suggests, I shall only,
3
18
and as briefly as possible, advert to those which seem to
demand especial notice.
The first is, that the view which has now been taken of the
character of our Saviour, furnishes a powerful argument in
support of the truth of the Gospel narrative. It afibrds a
strong presumptive evidence, that they who have left us this
account of Jesus Christ, must have derived it from a living
original. For where, otherwise, could they have obtained it?
There is no model in the writings of antiquity from which
they could have copied it. As a character, combining at once
the tenderest sensibility and an elevated calmness of mind
and bearing, — a strong, unwavering earnestness of purpose,
united with an habitual tranquillity and repose of manner,—
it stands to this day unimitated, and almost unapproached.
It could not, therefore, have been copied from any previous
example. Was it then the work of invention, of a creative
imagination ? If so, it is certainly very strange, that the
human mind, which has been delighting itself in this fancy-
work ever since the human mind was made, has produced no
second exhibition of the character ; that it never has repeated
the beautiful creation ; that it never has presented an addi¬
tional model of this wonderful union of qualities in contrast,
and yet in harmonious action. Besides, if it were invented,
who were the extraordinary men who produced it ? Were
they those humble followers of Jesus Christ, who seem not
themselves to have understood his real character ; nay, who
seem not to have attained any abstract idea of character at
all ? Were they those tent-makers and fishermen of Galilee?
Can any body believe this ? Is there, can there be, any other
explanation of the phenomenon, which will satisfy any rea¬
sonable inquirer, except that the writers of the Gospel history
spoke from facts present to their own senses, and drew their
accounts of the great subject of their story from a living
original? Well, indeed, has it been said, that the "great
miracle of Christianity is the character of Jesus Christ ! "
19
There is another use to be made of the results of this inquiry,
which is too important to be wholly overlooked. They furnish
a complete and triumphant reply to the charge of enthusiasm,
which has been sometimes alleged against the character of
our Lord. The charge, indeed, is not new. It was urged
against him hy the Jews, and received a decisive answer in
the calmness and strength of his reply. It has recently been
revived, and stated with a show of philosophical reasoning, in
that land which has always had a sufficiently "had eminence "
among the nations, in producing the apostles of infidelity.
And though it is perhaps the most futile of all the objections
which have been arrayed against the character of Jesus, to
him who has thoroughly studied it ; it is, nevertheless, one
which most frequently presents itself to the minds of specu¬
lative men, who take only a superficial view of the subject.
Even the train of remark which I have here pursued, inde¬
pendently of all other considerations, appears sufficiently to
invalidate this charge. The distinguishing mark of enthusi¬
asm and fanaticism, as is well known, is the ascendency of
the imagination and feelings over the reasoning powers. The
balance of the mind is thus destroyed. But are there any
traces of this in the conduct and character of Jesus ? Is there
any thing tumultuous or excessive-, any thing extravagant or
absurd, in the life of our Saviour ? Was it not the reverse of
every thing of this description? Was it not meek, settled,
considerate, simple, firm, calm, consistent with itself, and
singularly adapted to its objects, without a trace of infirmity,
without a shadow of error? His murderers, at the time,
admitted it to he so ; and his enemies ever since, almost to a
man, have yielded the same unwilling testimony. How then
can such a tenor of life he reconciled with the imputation of
enthusiasm and partial derangement?
Again; what enthusiast ever preached such a doctrine as
that of the Gospel ? Think for a moment of some of its leading
20
precepts. Love God ; love men ; pray and give alms in
secret ; do as you would others should do to you ; purify the
heart j — are these the doctrines of an unsound mind? Or is
it in the beneficence and admirable adaptation of his miracles
to the purpose they were intended to subserve, or in the
mild majesty and calm power with which they were per¬
formed, that we are to detect the agency of a disordered
intellect ? My friends, it requires much of the composure of
our blessed Master's spirit, calmly to reply to an objection
like this. He who makes it, must bçlieve that a being, in
whose life there is no infirmity, irregularity, or heated emo¬
tions of any kind ; of an habitual tranquillity and calmness ;
against all probability of success, and in direct opposition to
all his previous instructions, hopes, prejudices, and prevailing
thoughts ; should first imagine himself to be, in a peculiar
sense, in a sense of which no other being who had ever lived
had attained the slightest conception, the Son of God; —
that in consequence of this insane pretension, for so it was, if
it were not real, he should preach the purest, the most com¬
prehensive, the sublimest doctrine that the world has ever
known ; — that, in the advancement and propagation of this
doctrine, he should live a life of toil and suffering; —that he
must have supported his alleged character against the direct
testimony of all his senses, since he, certainly, must have
known, when he commanded the elements, whether they were
hushed at his word ; when he bade the dead to arise, whether
they obeyed his voice;—and that, finally, he should die,
persevering meekly, yet firmly, in the assertion of all his pre¬
vious claims, abating not a tittle of their full import ; willingly
die, — with no weak excitement of mind, no tremor, but with
a tranquil, a solemn, a sublime manifestation of every truly
great quality. Such was the wild fanaticism, such the brain¬
sick enthusiasm, of Jesus Christ !
21-
The only other remark suggested by the general subject
of tbis discourse, is one of a more practical kind. We look
to our Lord not merely as one who exhibited, in all he was
and did, manifest proofs of the divinity of his mission ; but it
is our privilege also to regard him as our great practical ex¬
emplar in every path of duty and suffering. We find in him,
then, if the foregoing remarks be correct, an habitual calmness
and tranquillity pervading his public ministry, his teaching,
and his whole life. He offers no example of heat and ferment
of feeling ; none, of a restless, and still less of a persecuting
zeal. He inculcates everywhere the quiet and timely perform¬
ance of all the incumbent duties of all the relations in which
we are placed. He permits the avoidance of none, even the
humblest and most familiar, on the alleged supremacy of those
which are more professedly religious. He encourages not
the neglect of ends, in a blind pursuit of means. He does
not allow us to imagine, for a moment, that our duty, as his
disciples, consists in running to and fro in the pursuit of
feverish excitement, even though it be on religious subjects ;
or in violent movements of the passions; or in heated and
clamorous appeals ; or in parade and noise and ceaseless stir.
No. There is not a shadow of authority, — let this be dis¬
tinctly marked, — there is not a shadow of authority for this
turmoil and extravagance in the conduct and character of
Jesus Christ. I appeal, on this subject, directly and most
solemnly to him, and to his example. And yet he was the
great Reformer of mankind. At his approach all previous
religious institutions gave place. Imposing forms'; time-
hallowed rites ; elaborate and gorgeous ceremonies ; the na¬
tional pride of his people ; the cherished hopes of centuries ;
superstition in her dread array ; hypocrisy in her specious
garb, — all, all stood rebuked in his presence. Idols in distant
lands, which had reigned, for thousands of years, over the
court, the camp, the forum, and the fire-side, all, all trembled
22
at the very sound of his footsteps. It is impossible for us, at
this day, even to imagine the commotion which was produced
in Judea at his advent, as the long expected Messiah, and
which was sent from Judea, as from a centre, to the nations
around. Yet his whole deportment and conduct, as we have
seen, in these exciting circumstances, was marked hy inward
peace, serenity, composure, and hy a divine repose of spirit.
This peace, this peace of God, which passeth all understand¬
ing, he has promised to all his faithful followers. It is, indeed,
the great blessing of the Gospel. And do we, my friends, de¬
sire to possess it ? Do we wish to inherit this precious, this
peculiar legacy of our blessed Lord ? It is not to be gained,
if there be any authority in the teaching, any force in the
example of Jesus, — it is not to be gained from the excesses
and extravagance of a blind and headlong zeal ; but from a
devoted, soul-felt, yet calm and wisely regulated, earnestness
in his service. It is to be gained, if gained, not from the
whirlwind, and the tumult, and the fire of passionate emotion;
but from a contrite, reverent, and prayerful communion with
that small, still voice, which is of God, and speaks of God,
down in the depths of our own spirits.
CHARGE,
bt
THE REV. P. CLARKE,
op mobton,
Rev. and Dear Sir,
You are now installed over the church and society in this
place in accordance with their united request. You come to
this altar of God to present your vows of devotedness to the
work of the ministry among this people. The solemn nature
of these vows and the responsibility of your trust demand
serious deliberation in entering upon, and the greatest solem¬
nity in sanctioning them. From the experience you have
already had, of ministerial duties and trials, you may not need
the tongue of man to give you counsel or advice. Having
before received and practically weighed the charge of the
churches, your mind must be impressed with the responsi¬
bility and arduous nature of the work you are again to un¬
dertake. I speak to you, dear Brother, not as a master, but
in brotherly love to awaken within your and all our bosoms
a lively sensibility to the obligations of our holy profession.
Permit me then, in this appointed address, to stir up your
mind by way of remembrance to the solemn charges, which
lie upon you as a settled minister of the Gospel.
By entering this important office you become, in a peculiar
sense, a servant to this people, as well as a servant of Christ.
However humble this office, your Master went before you
in it, and set a perfect copy of humility. You have his
charge upon you to serve at the altar of God in word and
24
doctrine, ¡n preaching the Gospel, and administering the ordi¬
nances of the covenant. You are to serve your Master faith¬
fully, and the people in humility ; not as a lord over God's
heritage, but as a servant, condescending to men of low
estate, and becoming all things to all men, that you may gain
some.
You are a teacher in the school of Christ, —charged with
all the duties of religious instruction. Explain Scripture ac¬
cording to the capacities of your hearers. Teach for doc¬
trines, not the commandments of men, but the pure, uncor-
rupted doctrines of Christ. Always remembering you are in
his school, make him your only Master in doctrine, in pre¬
cept, in all the essential terms of salvation. Teach Christ
and him crucified ; that is, the system of Christ, displaying
the power of God and the wisdom of God, sealed with the
blood of the Saviour.
You are a 'pastor. Lead your flock to the pure waters of
life, —to the river of God, — into green pastures and to brooks
flowing with milk and honey. With the nourishing milk of
the word feed the sheep — feed the lambs; give to every
one his portion in due season. Let none go from your
board hungry, lest their starving souls fly to some other quar¬
ter for nourishment.
You are a shepherd. Guard your flock diligently, ks'
they be devoured by wolves in sheep's clothing. Know your
sheep, and let them know you. A stranger's voice they know
not. Christ, the great shepherd, gave his life for the sheep.
Let your life be spent in the service of those who have
chosen you to be their shepherd, that, when the great shep¬
herd shall appear, you may with them receive a crown of
glory.
You are a minister of the Prince of peace. Look to yo'^''
Master, whose proclamation was Peace on earth,—goodvH'^
toward men, — blessed are the peacemaJcers for they
25
be called the children of God. In his meek and peaceful
spirit strive to overcome that exclusive spirit, which makes
division in churches, and would cause you to drive from the
fold of Christ all who cannot think as you do. Remember
the sharp reproof of your Master to the boasting Pharisee,
who drove from his fellowship the good Samaritan, and would
have no dealings with him. Let the charitable spirit of Christ
warm and enlarge your heart, and be the very bond of your
perfection.
You are a lahorer in the Gospel vineyard. Cultivate the
tender plants within your inclosure. Enrich them with sav¬
ing knowledge. Pray for the dews of divine grace to fall
upon them, as showers upon the thirsty ground. Root out
the weeds of sin. Lay the axe to the root of every tree,
that bears not good fruit. Break up the fallow ground,
and sow not among thorns. Prepare the opening minds to
receive the seeds of religious knowledge. Sow to all your
people in righteousness, that they may reap in mercy. In
this great business prove yourself to be a workman, that
needeth not to be ashamed.
You are an ambassador. The duties of your high calling
rise upon you. You have a commission from God to plead
the cause of Christ, and the good of souls. You are charged,
as his ambassador, to beseech and pray men in his name and
stead to be reconciled to God. Add to your fervent pray¬
ers your best endeavours to reclaim, persuade, and bring many
sons and daughters savingly home to Christ. Open the doors
of the church wide as they are opened in the Gospel. Receive
to the ordinances of baptism and the Lord's supper every
gospel subject. Break the bread of life to every hungry soul.
Lay no obstacle in the way of any sincere applicant.
You are a builder. Take pattern from your great Master-
builder, who came to build up a true church of good people
from all languages, and tongues, and nations. Build on the
4
26
foundation of the Apostles and Prophets, —all the materials
and work proving Jesus Christ to be the chief corner-stone.
You are a steward. The steward of God is to be faithful
and blameless, not self-willed, not soon angry ; hut sober, just,
holy, temperate, holding fast the faithful word, that you may
be able by sound doctrine to convince gainsayers.
You are a defender of the faith, once delivered to the
saints. You are set for the defence of the Gospel in its
original purity. Plead for it, O plead for it, in its primitive
simplicity and godly sincerity, — not as it has been corrupt¬
ed by fleshly wisdom, but as it came from the lips of Christ,
and is chartered by his Sermon on the Mount. In this age of
contention there is danger of having the beauties of our holy
religion merged and lost in a system of knotty points. Avoid
that vain philosophy, which runs into mystery, after the
rudiments of the world and not after Christ.
You are set, not only as a defender of the primitive faith,
but as a watchman. God has made you a watchman on this
part of the wall of his Jerusalem. You are to watch against
the encroachment of error. You are to watch for souls, as
one, who must give an account. You are to watch and pray,
lest the temptations of a delusive world overpower your best
exertions. In all your watching, watch your own heart and
life. Take heed to yourself, that your practice be pure and
blameless. For
You are a guide. The whole congregation look to your
example. Your daily practice will be a more efiectual guide,
than any verbal preaching. Your Master, though he spake as
never man spake in purity of doctrine and excellency of pre- "
cept, yet he said. If I do not the works of my Father, believe
me not. If you do not maintain good works, your most elo¬
quent preaching will lose its good eflect. For men will not
then believe your words, nor think your preaching sincere.
Let me entreat you, dear Brother, to give this finishing
27
stroke to all your ministerial labors. Let your holy life
'preach louder and further, than any words you can utter. I
charge you before God and the holy angels, he thou an exam¬
ple to believers in word, in conversation, in conduct, in spirit,
in purity, in faith, in love, in charity. Let this light of ex¬
ample shine around you continually, that all may see your
good works and glorify your Father in heaven. Hereby you
will give a powerful efficacy to your whole ministry, and for
your encouragement be assured by the inspiration of God, if
you live the life of the righteous, your latter end will be like
his. Amen.
RIGHT HAND OF FELLOWSHIP;
by
THE REV. EDWARD B. HALL,
of providence, r. I.
We have reason to rejoice, and we now rejoice with you, my
Brother, that the religion to whose service you this day offer
yourself anew, has taken care of its own gift of fellowship.
It has not left it with men to dispense or withhold, as they
please ; it has given it of itself, freely and graciously, to all
who walk in its holy light. It has not permitted it to he shut
up in one corner of its kingdom, or monopolized by a portion
of its subjects. But in the person of its divine Author, who
was also its perfect manifestation, it " stretched forth its
hand " on its first appearance in the world, to take into its
household all who would do the will of God, saluting thera
as its near kindred ;— " Whosoever shall do the will of my
Father who is in heaven, the same is my brother, and sister,
and mother." And again, in the words of that Apostle who
received the right hand for the very purpose of offering this
faith and fellowship to the despised Gentiles, to the whole
world, this religion offers its "grace to all those who love our
Lord Jesus Christ in sincerity."
You will not therefore regard this service of fellowship as
that of an individual, nor yet merely of the Council in whose
voice he speaks, nor yet of one people, far less of any sect, any
of the unhappy portions into which Christ has been divided.
29
It is Christianity that offers you fellowship, and that just in
proportion as you strive to possess and difiuse its light. Itjs
God the Father of all, and Christ the only master. In their
spirit we trust, and as hy their direction, as well as from our
own feelings, we now give you this token of fellowship. Ac¬
cept it, my brother, and believe it to be more than a token.
Take it, as the welcome and blessing of these and many
churches, especially of those planted in this portion of the
vineyard which you are entering. Come, and labor with us.
Come, and pray with us and for us, for our people and for all.
Come, to join hand and heart with us, in this arduous hut
glorious work, for the disenthralment of the mind from its
earthly bondage, and the soul from its pollution and peril.
Come, and may the voice of welcome which you now hear,
greet your ear and rejoice your heart, in every dwelling
which you enter among this people, and every community to
whom you carry the gracious terms of the ministry of recon¬
ciliation.
Of the responsibilities that now devolve upon you, the du¬
ties and trials that are before you, it were presumptuous in
me to speak particularly. Tbey are not new to you. You
have met them once and again, and experienced their chang¬
ing forms. You will meet them here, and you will not
shrink from them. For solemn as these responsibilities are,
there comes with them a promise of strength and blessing,
enough to sustain every trusting, however trembling, spirit.
Varied and unceasing as these duties are, often wearing,
always anxious, tbey will nevei be wearisome or thankless
where the heart is in them, a heart imbued with the love of
God and of man. There are trials, too, many, peculiar trials,
at times dark, bitter, chilling, prostrating. And yet what are
they, at the worst, in view of the object ? Bring them to¬
gether in all their variety and power, — for you, my friend,
may I not say, we ? have tasted them in some measure, —
30
throw them into the scale with our privileges, the glory of
our calling as ambassadors for Christ, allowed to proclaim his
messages of love, not only to the waiting congregation, but
also to the individual heart, to speak peace to the troubled,
point the feeble and timid to the source of strength, let in
light upon the dark, perhaps wretchedly doubting, mind, give
serenity and brightening hope to the departing spirit and to
all whom it loves and leaves.—Oh, what are trials to those
clothed with this office, and blessed to any degree with this
power ? There is no trial, would we could feel there is no
trial, but insufficiency and unfaithfulness in ourselves. Let
there be no prayer so often on our lips, none so fervent in
our hearts and the hearts of this people now, as the prayer
for strength and fidelity in each of us thus consecrated.
I have said this is not an individual act ; yet, you will
believe, it is not without individual feeling. The past cannot
be forgotten, nor our personal relation wholly unnoticed, in
the discharge of a duty like this. For though, in this hour,
thoughts press forward and upward, they will also run back to
early days, when you and I trod successively the same fresh
paths in life, and received our first religious teaching from
the same venerable lips,* in that temple where you afterward
served at the altar. Disappointments, also, and changes, not
unlike, have been appointed us since. And now is there not
something worthy of our own attention at least, in that sud¬
den and unusual providence, which has opened to both of us,
at the same time and in the same region, places so lately
filled by others whose removal none could anticipate ? The
blessing of God go with them, wherever they go. How much
we shall need that blessing, in the labors and changes yet
before us, the past comes powerfully in aid of the present to
teach us. But whatever awaits us, this hope, this earnest
* David Osgood, D. D., of Medford, Mass.
31
prayer, permit me to express, my brother, that we may never
toil, here or any where, for the present only ; that we may
never spend ourselves upon the earthliness and miserable
narrowness of party ; may never strike hands in any name,
nor lend our necks to any yoke, hut that of Christ; may act
with no spirit, hut the large, free, holy, embracing, always
calm and devoted spirit of our godlike Master. May his
power and his peace, given " not as the world giveth," pos¬
sess our souls, pervade our teaching, and fill all our paths.
And if thus we are able to convert, — not numbers from an¬
other name to ours, — hut one sinner from the error of his
way, if we can cause one additional beam of Heaven's cheer¬
ing light to fall upon the dark places of life, or enter the cold
chambers of the soul, — we may hope, with joy not only he-
, gun hut perfected, to renew this pledge in a higher temple
and holier fellowship. God grant it !
ADDRESS TO THE CONGREGATION,
BY
THE REV. JOHN PIERPONT,
OF BOSTON.
My Friends and Brethren of this Christian Church,
Düring the few minutes which are usually understood to
belong to that patt, which I have been requested to take, in
the interesting services of this occasion, I propose to occupy
myself in making some remarks upon the reciprocal rights
and duties which grow out of that near and sacred relation in
which, as minister and people, you and our brother have
mutually placed yourselves, and which is publicly recognised
by the religious services in which we are now engaged.
In speaking upon this topic, however, I do not propose, or
mean, to seize upon ground which is usually regarded as the
peculiar province of the minister himself, and which he may
be expected to go over, exercising acts of ownership upon it,
when he first enters ofiicially upon the field of his future
labors. F or there are things which it is very well to have
said, touching those rights and duties, and which, yet, your
own minister might find it somewhat difficult to say. Some
of those things experience may not yet have taught him,
and some he may already very well know, and very deeply
feel, which still he could not very well express.
Allow me then, my friends, to suggest that your duties to
your pastor, and his to you, do not all grow out of the rela-
33
tlon of pastor and flock ; for that is not the only relation that
you hold to one another.
In becoming a preacher of the Gospel, a man does not cast,
himself out of any one of his antecedent relations to his
fellow men. He is still the son, the husband, the father ; he
is the neighbour and the citizen, as much after assuming the
ministerial office, as before; and, still .standing in all these
different relations to those of his kind, he is discharged from
none of the duties, and he divests himself of none of the
rights, that previously belonged to him. In those relations
he still stands ; for the performance of their respective duties
he is responsible ; and, consequently, while he is engaged in
performing them, — and performing them according to his
conscience, and not according to yours, — you may no more
interfere with him, or exercise a control over him, than you
may with or over any other man. Acting in these various
relations he must be left as free as you are ; and must be
regarded as responsible to his kindred, his country, and his
God, and not to the people of his charge. For usefulness,
and for a beneficent influence, in the various relations of an
individual, other than his relation as a Christian minister,
various talents have been committed to his trust. For those
talents he must at last give account. And if in the day of
account it shall appear, that, ten talents having been given
him, he has wrapped nine in the napkin and buried them,
and has occupied to profit only that one which was bestowed
in reference to his labors as a clergyman, I think he may
have reason to fear that his Judge will ask, " Were there not
ten entrusted with thee ? Where then are the other nine ? "
And if to that question he should answer, " My people bade
me bury them," do you, my brethren, feel yourselves ready
to answer for such an exercise of authority over your fellow
servant? If you say Ay, what is your answer? If Nay,—
allow your minister to do what he thinks he ought to do, in
5
7
34
his relations to his country and his kind ; and as he does it
without your responsibility, let him do it without your re¬
buke. Let him, as the citizen of a free land, and the subject
like' yourselves of municipal law, and now, in the wisdom of
this commonwealth, required to bear his part of its burdens,
do what in him lies to make that land still more free, and to
infuse through the whole massive body of its laws a living
spirit of liberty and of righteousness. Do not complain
because he does not bring all the light of his mind to a focus,
and throw it all upon one spot ; the spot upon which you
stand when offering your sacrifices to the Lord. And do not,
I intreat you, for a moment, indulge that miserable jealousy
which will prompt you to complain of partiality or favoritism
in your minister, if he has his favorite walks, or visits in some
of your families more frequently than others. Would you
have a man for your servant in Christ, or would you have a
slave If a man, is your minister the only man in the parish
to whom peculiar attachments and personal friendships are
denied ? Would you have a minister who has no heart? And
if he who ministers to you in sacred things has a heart, will
you forbid it to hold communion with other hearts which God
has made congenial to it ? Will not Wisdom justify her child¬
ren when she hears them taking her words upon their lips,
and sees them walking in her ways ? And what says heav¬
enly Wisdom ? "I love them that love me, and they who
seek me shall find me." If you will seek your pastor's
society, depend upon it, he will take pleasure in being found
by you. He will, as a child of God, and of that Wisdom
that from the beginning has been with him, promptly recipro¬
cate the tokens you show him of interest in him and kind
feeling for him. Rather than complain, then, that your min¬
ister has his personal friends, ask yourselves whether you
would choose a man for your minister, who had none ; and
consider, moreover, that if he is true to his nature as a niUD,
35
it is almost certain that it is your own fault if you are not,
each of you, one of his particular friends, and if the way to
your house is not one of his favorite walks.
As a private citizen, the clergyman's house is as much his
castle, as any other man's is his. Let his house then be as
exempt from parochial supervision, as each one of you insists,
and justly insists, that his house shall be free from clerical
oversight. As the head of a family, let him manage his own
afiairs in his own way. You will find by experience that his
house will be better taken care of by himself, than by his
parish ; and, besides, the less time his parishioners devote to
his concerns, the more will they be able to devote to their
own.
From what has already been said in regard to those rights
and duties of a clergyman which are not strictly professional,
you will be able, my Christian friends, to draw inferences for
yourselves in reference to such as are.
As a creature of God, — moulded by his hand, and made a
living soul by the gift of his spirit, a clergyman owes it to
himself, and he owes it not less to his family and his people,
judiciously to husband, and economically to use, his physical
powers. His body is an earthen vessel, it is true : but not to
be abused or broken to pieces merely because it is earthen. It
is a vessel of exquisite workmanship, and he who apprehends
most thoroughly its delicacy, and most worthily its uses, will
feel most deeply the value of the treasure that is kept in it,
and will most sedulously guard it against that abuse by which,
not only the vessel must be broken, but the treasure it con¬
tains be lost to the world. Your minister must, as a minister,
and with a direct reference to his professional efficiency and
success, be allowed that portion of his time which both his
animal and his intellectual nature require, for recreation of
mind, for bodily exercise, and for rest from the weariness of
the flesh and of the spirit. Beyond this, — and when those
36
claims have been allowed of which I have already spoken, —
claims of family and of country,—you, his people, have a
right to his time and his talents, — to the exercise of his best
powers and his best aíFections, for your improvement and that
of your children, in knowledge and in virtue. And as you
have a right to these labors and services, it is his duty to
give himself to your service, in the forwarding of these mo¬
mentous interests, in a spirit of integrity and love. I have
good hope that he will do this. He most assuredly will per¬
form his duties to you faithfully ; but it depends upon
yourselves, almost entirely, whether he shall perform them
cheerfully, and successfully. It is for you to say whether his
labor for you shall be his delight or his burden. There is a
very short way for a people to make their minister a galley-
slave. They have but to find fault with him, whatever he
may do ; to misconstrue his language, whatever he may say;
to give him to understand that they think their bargain with
him is a hard one on their part ; to say that he does not
preach so good sermons as he used to do ; and to let him
know that, in their opinion, he meddles with matters that do
not concern him, whenever he denounces iniquity that hap¬
pens to be their own ; — and they will soon find that he has as
little pleasure in his ministry as they have profit from it.
And on the other hand, a people will consult their own
honor as well as advantage, by showing that kindness to their
servant in the Lord, which is grateful to his feelings and
encouraging to his efforts. You, my Christian friends, will
find your account, even in the beginning of your minister's
labors, in regarding the precept of the Apostle Paul to the
Thessalonian church, and acknowledging him whom you
have yourselves chosen to be over you in the Lord, and to
labor among you, and remind you of your duties, and in
esteeming him very highly in love for his work's sake,—'lot
the sake of the office to which you have yourselves called
37
him. It may be admitted that, till a Christian minister has
had an opportunity of urging a claim to the respect and kind
consideration of his people, on the ground of his faithful
discharge of the duties of his ofSce, all that he can reason¬
ably demand of them is that they esteem him very highly in
love for the sake of his oßce itself. With that he vyill, at
first be satisfied ; and that, I think you will allow, is a claim
which he has a right to make. For one, indeed, who has
long held the office of a Christian minister, and to whom,
therefore, ample opportunity has been given to have knit his
own soul to the souls of his people, to have secured their
respect by his talents, and won their affections by his ministe¬
rial faithfulness, it were useless and hopeless to remind his
people of what they owe him on account of his office ; — use¬
less, if he deserves their kind regards, but has not secured
them ; for, if his people have been blind to his merits, they
will, of course, be deaf to the recital of them ; — and hope¬
less, if he does not deserve thein ; for the argument of a
friend or brother will be of little avail to convince them that
he is worthy of their esteem, if his life has been such as to
convince them that he is not. But in setting out upon his
course of duty, in the new office to which he has been in¬
ducted, your minister has a right to your respect and friendly
regards, for the sake of his office itself. And he has a right
to expect this regard not to be felt merely, but to be shown.
It should be shown by a uniform and punctual attendance
upon the services of the sanctuary, by respectfully attending
to the performances of that holy place, and by a candid and
charitable judgment of them ; for, without candor in judging,
you will hear to no good purpose, and, without attention, to no
purpose whatever. The hearer in a Christian church should
not forget that the speaker is not only the leader in the devo¬
tional services, but a teacher of the Christian doctrines ; and
as the speaker's province is to teach, it is, at least profess-
38
edly, that of the hearer to learn. A doctrine, then, while it
ought not to be received merely because the teacher proposes
it, ought not to be contemned and rejected without faithful
examination, merely because it has never been heard in that
church before : for it is, at least, possible, that he vho is
professionally the teacher may be right in his instructions,
and that he who professedly comes as a learner, may have
something yet to learn ; and at all events, he who comes to
church predetermined that he will return no wiser than he
came, though he may take to himself credit for his firmness
in the faith, will have little cause to glory in the extent of his
attairjments, or to rejoice in his conformity to the image of
him who, as he increased in stature, increased in wisdom,
and in favor with God and man.
Above all, my friends, you owe it to your minister as well
as to yourselves to become better by his instructions, exhor¬
tations, example, and prayers. The great object of his min¬
isterial labors is the salvation of the souls committed to his
care from the pollutions and the consequences of sin ; and the
preparation of their hearts for the services and joys in which
the holy are made happy, in time and in eternity. This end
and aim of his labors he cannot compass without your con¬
sent and cooperation. Do then, my friends, what in you lies
to make his mortal labors light, that the immortal crown
both of minister and people may be a crown of glory. Help
him, so far as you may, to finish his course with joy. In so
doing you will make his course joyous, not more to him than
to yourselves. And, believe me, the more pleasant you
make his walk and his work while he is with you on earth,
the more will the remembrance of your connexion with him,
be it dissolved when it may, — contribute to your happiness
in heaven.
5
1
I
I
I
A
SERMON
DELIVERED
AT THE ORDINATION
OF
REV. CHANDLER ROBBINS,
OVER THE
SECOND CONGREGATIONAL CHURCH
IN
BOSTON,
DECEMBER 4, 1833.
BY REV. HENRY WARE, JR.
BOSTON:
JAMES W. BUR DITT.
1833.
I. R. BUTTS, PRINTER, SCHOOL STREET.
SERMON.
PHILIPPIANS, I, 17.
I AM SET roR THE DEFENCE OP THE GOSPEE.
In the act for which we are now assemhled, we commemorate
the grace of Almighty God in making to mankind a revelation of
his will, and in establishing through Jesus Christ those institu¬
tions which shall conduct to salvation and heaven. We do some¬
thing, in this act, towards perpetuating those institutions and ren¬
dering them effectual. When Jesus, their Founder, left the
world, he committed them, and with them the hopes of the hu¬
man race, to his eleven apostles. They were his Ambassadors
to the world. They were Guardians for him of the dispensation
which he had set up. And when they went to their rest,—
some by fire, and some by crucifixion, and one by a good old
age, — they transmitted the holy charge to other hands, and thus
sent it down from age to age. The race of those who have ta¬
ken it up has never become extinct. Every man who joins him¬
self to the company of the preachers, and takes charge of one
of the Saviour's little flocks, is one more added to the hand of
those who are ' set for the defence of the Gíospel.' Another
joins that sacred band today ; and as we help him to gird on his
armor, and lay upon him the hands of charge and congratulation,
it may not be unseasonable to speak of the nature of his enter¬
prise and office, under the point of view presented by the Apos-
1
4
tie in our text. What is it that he is to defend ? Against what
enemies ? With what modes of action and influence ? These
are the three points of my Discourse.
I. What is it tuhich he has undertaTcen to defend 1 Of what
is he the minister ? The answer is, a Revelation from God :
a revelation of truth, duty and eternal life. This he is pledged to
proclaim and advocate. He is to propound its doctrines, enforce
its law, excite by its sanctions.
Herein lies the peculiarity of his position. Other men have
taught truth, have inculcated duty, have argued for immortality.
But he speaks of them as matters of revelation; he speaksas bear¬
ing communications respecting them from God. And thus he is
set apart from all other teachers, as the gospel is set apart
from all other systems. He does not advocate it, because he
judges it to be upon the whole a better doctrine than that of
the Stoics or Epicureans ; — or as one which is very likely to be
true, or if not, so useful that it may be well to teach it to com¬
mon people as true. But he takes it, explicitly and absolutely,
as the revealed truth of God ;—not as human opinion, but as divine
law ; not as what he has reasoned out, but what he has received.
This is the circumstance to which it owes its value. It would be
worth little more than the venerable philosophy of the ancient
sages, if it were, like them, the mere offspring of human opinion.
To this too it owes its power. For its doctrine comes with au¬
thority ; — not as the intuitive wisdom of this man, or the plaus¬
ible theory of that, dependent on the logical skill of him who
advances it, having, therefore, no more weight than is derived
from his power of reasoning, and which may be reasoned down as
it was reasoned up ; — but an authoritative message from the in¬
finite Father of truth.
Undoubtedly there are propositions relative to the gospel,
which are mere matter of opinion, and which must be discussed
as such, if discussed at all, with great self-diffidence. But that
the gospel itself is a revelation of truth, a lato of duty, and a prom-
5
ise of life, is not one of those propositions, and ought not to be
so regarded hy him who has undertaken its ministry. Hence, in
preaching its doctrines, they are to be treated in the way of ex¬
planation and application ; — not to be taught as the instructions
of human intellect, and shown to he probably true according
to the light of nature ; — but simply proved to have been taught
by Christ, and then from other sources illustrated. Its duties he
will treat in the same way, as binding, because the commandment
of God, — not simply as what is advisable and expedient for the
good of man, and the sanctions of a future state, — not, like
the arguing of the old sages, as being probably thus and thus ac¬
cording to the best light we have, but as being certainly thus,
because we have absolutely the best light. This is what is done
by him who defends the gospel. And he, who, instead of this,
puts the whole up to debate, states it all as so much matter open
to discussion, on which either side may with almost equal pro¬
priety be defended — that man betrays the cause which he under¬
took to advocate ; — he treats as an unsettled question what he
engaged to enforce as divine truth — and places the whole at
the mercy of his own didactic skill. And what can be the result
in the minds of his hearers, but a state of indifference and uncertain¬
ty ? There can be no stroug faith, — therefore no strong inter¬
est — therefore no strong influence of christian principle — no
high action of christian hope. There are grand but simple veri¬
ties, through whose power the soul becomes mighty ; but if they
are regarded only as theses for discussion, problems for theoretical
solution, they have lost their soul-moving and life-giving energy.
Faith is powerful just in proportion as it becomes assurance. If
ever christian truth has reformed the sinful, and strengthened
the tempted, given comfort to the desponding and triumph to
the martyr, overcome the world and regenerated kingdoms, it has
been because it was received as the certain declaration of God,—
because his voice was heard uttering the law, proclaiming the
promise and issuing the threat. If the minister is ever to see
the fruit of his labors in conversion from sin, in the growth of holi-
6
ness, in the consolation and peace of a heavenly hope, —it must
he, it can only be, by persuading his hearers to receive what be
delivers as the disciples received the preaching of Paul, — 'not
as the word of men, hut as it is in truth, the word of God.' And
if, with intent to redeem the world, ambassadors should go forth
merely declaring to men what are their own opinions on
great subjects of tmth and duty, instead of announcing the mes¬
sage as from God, the disciples of Plato or Confucius would
convert the nations as soon as they. — No ; Christ has taught us
better. ' I have given to them the words thou gavest to me,
and they have known surely that thou didst send me.' And
therefore, they are not to take a place among the wise and the
disputera of this world. They are to be preachers of a Revelation.
II. Against what enemies is the minister to defend this Reve¬
lation 1 This was our second question ; and the answer is,
against all who oppose its truth, neglect its duties, and despise its
sanetions. These are the enemies of the gospel. They ai'e to
he answered, rebuked, converted, made its friends.
He has taken up the great defence of Christianity, and
placed himself on the rampart of its institutions. He has devoted
himself to the promotion of its interests. Fervently persuaded
that it is from God — that it teaches the truth of truths — that it
is the great moral power of the world — that it is the great sus¬
taining hope of the human soul; — having deeply experienced
the illumination of its doctrine, the sanctification of its law, and
the glorious peace of its promise, he longs to extend its benig¬
nant sway ; and he earnestly inquires what are the hindrances
which need to he removed ?
First, he discovers those who set themselves against its truth.
Infidelity stands in the way ; — assuming sometimes the garb
of Philosophy, speaking lofty words of wisdom, and pretending to
look down contemptuously on revelation as unfavorable to the
development of the intellect, and the culture of manly virtue.
Sometimes in a garb of depraved and coarse malignity, — hating
7
the gospel for its purity, and loud in its words of audacious ca¬
lumny and obscene blasphemy. Side by side with this bold
assailant of all that is sacred and good, be sees Indifference,
standing in the way of the light, and hindering the influence of
the truth. And what a formidable portion of the community does
this characterize ! resolutely sunk in apathy, wholly unconcerned
for spiritual good, impeding all progress, discouraging all exertion,
neither entering into life themselves, nor permitting others to en¬
ter. How many, alas ! of such does he behold among those
who rank themselves as Christians ! How many of his Master's
foes does he discover to be of his own household ! —thwarting
by their worldliness and coldness all projects for the promotion of
that cause which nominally they favor ! With these, and besides
these, be beholds the chief enemy — the many-headed, the om¬
nipresent foe, Sin,— in its infinite forms, and inscrutable disguises,
— subtle as the serpent in the garden, and venomous as the sting
of death.—How it blinds the understanding, hardens the heart,
perverts the conscience, makes truth distasteful, and the thought of
God unwelcome ! How it rides triumphant in high places, spreading
around oppression and blighting, turning power into a curse, and
wealth into a fountain of corruption ! How it steals like a pestilence
into low places, and rears those seminaries of depravity, which
make the good tremble for the very existence of the social fabric !
So that with the institutions of the gospel flourishing, the will of
God everywhere published, the wonderful fact of a future life
familiarly known, — society yet lies deep sunk in selfishness,
earthliness, and sensuality. There is much to be done, — blessed
be God, there is much doing ! — but much remains to be done
to make the community Christian, in that true and sufficient
sense which shall satisfy the wishes and hopes of a philanthropic
mind, and accomplish the purpose of the Saviour. Much is to
be done before public opinion will be always right, every man
honest and temperate, every family well ordered and peaceful,
and penitentiaries and prisons unnecessary. Alas, to look even
upon our stated, sober, church-going congregations, how much is
8
to be done before the power of the gospel shall he over them
universally and purely ! before all shall have parted with their
sins, and become devoted followers of Jesus ! before every house
shall be a temple, every heart an altar, every hand a fountain of
charity and truth, duty and heaven become the favorite con¬
cerns of all minds !
And who is to bring on that happy day ? Who is to watch
and toil for the accomplishment of that desirable consummation ?
Certainly every good Christian and good man will join his
prayers and his labors. But if it be asked, whose duty it is to
be foremost in devising and effecting measures for the enterprise,
—certainly it must be answered, the minister of Christ. By his
very office it appertains to him. He is not to wait till he is called
forth by the public voice ; he is not to hold back till urged on by
the quicker zeal of others ; he is not to consult first of all his own
reputation and the fear to jeopardise his influence. He is to be
the first to speak. He is to stand in the front rank of all oppo¬
sition to the foes of religion and man ; and while he seeks to ' give
offence in nothing that the ministry be not blamed,' he will yet
be prompt to cry aloud and spare not, — as a leader, not a fol¬
lower, in the camp of the Lord, against all the hostsof Infidelity,
Indifference, and Sin.
HI. This brings us to our third question ; — By what method
is he to effect the work thus allotted him 7 — And here I can¬
not avoid beginning with a passing remark relative to that prime,
essential matter, the spirit which he is to maintain. The weap¬
ons of his warfare are not carnal but spiritual ; and if he contend
against infidelity, worldliness, or sin, with carnal weapons, that
is, in any spirit but the serious, devout, forbearing, gentle spirit
of Christ, — he becomes himself an enemy instead of a defend¬
er. If he assail Infidelity with the ribaldry and indecency with
which infidelity assaults Christianity ; — if he denounce his erring
fellow-men with the disingenuousness and reviling of a vulgar po¬
litical partizan ; — if he treat even abandoned sinners (whom he
9
ought to convert) with indignant outcry and violent abuse he
fights the battle for heaven in the armor of the Prince of dark¬
ness ; — he takes a tone no more tolerable in a messenger of
the cross, than would be the blasphemy of the damned on the
threshold of heaven. Let him remember the motto given by
the Apostle, — In meekness instructing those that oppose them¬
selves. And that other saying. If any man have not the spirit of
Christ he is none of his.
When we pass beyond this remark respecting the general
spirit of his ministry, we find ourselves embarrassed by the vast-
ness of the field we enter. The methods by which he shall
advocate and advance the gospel, whose whole life and business
are consecrated to that work, are too various to allow of even
enumeration in the time before us. His own personal character
and familiar example in the world, are to be made a stand¬
ing argument for the power and beauty of christian principle.
His conversation among men must be always directed with
ready speech to recommend and strengthen the cause he serves.
His voice, his pen, his time, his services, his purse, must be
ever at the command of any projects which are advanced for the
good of mankind ; and he must show that Christianity is the
friend of every thing excellent, by being himself its friend. In
his pastoral walks, where he moves among his people as their
confidential religious friend, he has peculiar opportunities for
advancing the interests of religion,— such as no other being on
earth can possess, and such as he could possess in no other
relation. For, on all the most momentous and trying emer¬
gencies of life, when the heart is most susceptible and cries
out after its God ; — in the sanctuary of domestic life, in the
privacy of the sick chamber, at the bedside of the dying,—
wherever and whenever the soul feels most, — there he may be ;
there he may plead for Christ and heaven ; there he may take
hold of immortal sympathies and immortal wants, and win those
to God who might elsewhere be inaccessible. And besides
these various means and occasions, there still remains the public
10
assembly and the house of prayer ; where he stands forth as the
recognised ambassador of Christ, pleading in the face of heaven
and earth, the cause of truth, duty and life.
On all these points, it is impossible, as I said, to dwell. I
make a selection, and illustrate but one of them,—the last. I would
show how this important function of Preaching will take its char¬
acter from the consideration that he is set for the defence of the
gospel. And this, both as regards the subjects and the manner
of it.
With respect to the subjects, it will be, as already intimated,
the preaching of the gospel ; not of his own opinions gathered
from observation and reflection ; not of disquisitions in ethical
philosophy ; not of the minor proprieties and conventional courte¬
sies of life, or the superficial moralities of society. But of the
written gospel, as a revelation from God ; expounding its records,
illustrating its propositions, developing and elucidating its eternal
principles, upholding them in their evidences against cavil and oh-
jection, and urging them in their influences on the reason, affec¬
tions, and conscience, as the only truth which can make wise unto
salvation. In like manner he will treat its duties ; not as diflidently
advising that course which seems to him on the whole expedient,
honorable, or rational ; but as pronouncing the law of God, de¬
claring the eternal rule of right. He will do this, not in general
terms, but in the specific peculiarities which the precepts and
example of Christ have imparted to it ; and will thus present to
men a practical morality, far different from that of the heathen
philosophy, and far higher than the acknowledged standard of
even the christianized community. He will treat also of the
sanctions of a future retribution. He will always accompany the
doctrines of truth and righteousness with that of a judgment to
come. He will never allow himself to recognise man in any
other character than that of an accountable immortal, or to ad¬
dress him from the pulpit in any other relation. For he remern-
hers that the kingdom of his Lord is not of this world ; and that
he toiled and suffered for men, only because he felt for them as
destined to eternity.
11
He is thus evidently prohibited much of that dreamy and
speculative discussion about secondary matters, which has ren¬
dered so many pulpits unfruitful and sleepy. There are permit¬
ted to him only the strong, stirring, urgent subjects, which make
preaching seem a matter of life and death. Those vast, sublime,
searching, thrilling topics, — God, eternity, and judgment, repent¬
ance, faith, and immortal progress, -— which are mighty to work
upon the soul and call it out to a new life ; — topics of a magni¬
tude and interest needed by him, who is to throw down in one
day all the evil influences on character which the world has been
building up for six, and to establish in one day an influence which
the world for six, with a thousand hands, will he striving to over¬
throw. With such a work before him, he has no time, (God
forbid that he should have a heart !) for any less important exhi¬
bition, — for preaching anything hut the word. God forbid
that he should have a moment's solicitude for the petty elegances
of speech, or the good will of a frivolous and worldly assembly.
Let him he solicitous only to declare the counsel of God, to di¬
vide rightly the word of truth, and if he can win men to receive
and honor it by an evident attachment and a consistent life, he
may despise the contempt of the superficial, and thank God that
his work is blest.
Then as to the manner in which this must he done. It must,
in the first place, be rational. No part of the gospel can he
irrationally defended ; certainly not at the present day. This is
neither the age nor the country for a religion built upon assump¬
tion to be received upon assertion, indeed, it never was true of
Christianity, that it demanded any other than a rational defence ;
as Paul well knew, when he so constantly ' reasoned from the
Scriptures' in his preaching, and filled his epistles with close and
earnest argument. Preaching, therefore, must he reasoning ; it is
not declamation, nor exhortation, nor fine description, nor the
mere out-pouring of a burning mind, though sometimes they are
made to pass for it. In no other department of serious eloquence
would these modes of address be thought sufficient. Neither in
2
12
the senate, nor at the bar, nor in the popular assembly, would it
be tolerated, that men should deal only in flowery elegance, hor¬
tatory harangue, or mere entreaty. They are required to show
reason for the part they take. They are required to make busi¬
ness-like speeches. The speeches of the great Grecian were little
else than close and rapid argument. They owed their heat and
force to the impetuosity and compactness of the reasoning. And
surely the greatest of subjects, the most momentous of human
interests, is not to be enforced with less appeal to sound reason¬
ing. Men must be addressed in a practical business-like way here
as well as elsewhere. Accustomed to reason and to hear reason¬
ing on all other subjects, they cannot, they ought not surrender
their understandings, their consciences, their wills, their charac¬
ters, their all, to the entreaties or the assertions of any man, with¬
out good reason given and received. They cannot, and they ought
not, take any man's word for any view of any important truth.
True, as we have insisted, the minister of Christ speaks from
authority. But not his own : it is his Master's authority. And
he must prove that he has his authority before he can use it.
Even the Divine Master himself employed argument and proof
to establish his authority ; and is the minister to do less now ?
Is he to hope that even a cordial fellow-disciple will acknowledge
the obligation of what he teaches, unless it be proved that his
master taught it ? Will he convince the cool-hearted atheist, the
sophistical skeptic, the honest doubter, the eager and keen-sight¬
ed inquirer, without reasoning ? Can he hope that the worldly,
the sensual, the devotees of pleasure, the dead in trespasses and
sins, will be turned to duty and faith, unless he can show them
reasons for turning ? And still further; when the growing inquis-
itiveness of the times has imparted to men so much more real or
fancied acuteness of mind, can he expect that they will yield to
the arguments or embrace the doctrines of darker ages, on the
ground of their sacredness and antiquity, without investigation ?
Surely not. The minister who thus judges, takes a false posi¬
tion, and palsies his own right hand. He forgets that he no Ion-
13
ger occupies an office of power, that he now stands on a level
with his fellow-men, that his adventitious advantages are few.
Those few are invaluable, indeed ; but they will avail him little,
unless, like other men in important affairs, he exhibit a sound
mind and rational judgment, and treat his fellow-men as beings
of intelligence. The most powerful preaching, therefore, will
be that of argument. Not of subtleties and refinements, of
formal technicalities, and metaphysical abstractions. The¬
ology, unhappily, has been so much at the mercy of the
scholastics, who have dissected it and anatomized it, and laid it
by in dry preparations and naked skeletons, that the word ar¬
gument in religion is apt to bring up the idea of what is forbid¬
ding. But it is not the arguments of pedantry that we speak of.
There are other sources and forms of reasoning than those of
the schools,—from which Jesus drew and which the apostles used ;
the inexhaustible premises of nature, the affluent fountains of
human affection, the character of God, the history of his provi¬
dence, the declarations of his word, the promises of immortality,
the destinies of the intelligent soul. These, and such as these,
are sources of arguments for the pulpit, within the compre¬
hension of all, and interesting to the affections of all. Let them
be applied to with the earnestness which indicates deep interest
and affectionate zeal, and they cannot fail to convince, to move,
and to persuade.
For this is an equally important consideration,—Earnestness.
What will the preacher do without earnestness ? what justice to
himself, to his hearers, to his argument, to the cause he has es¬
poused? Speakers upon all other subjects are earnest. When
they would convince or move men, they talk as if they were
themselves convinced and moved ; they throw their mind and
heart into their words, and thus make way into the mind and
heart of others. Will it do for the preacher to be less earnest ?
Are his topics less momentous ? or is the cause which he pleads
more easily won than that of the statesman and barrister ? Are
men more readily persuaded to love God and work out their sal-
14
vation, than to vote with their own party or give a righteous ver¬
dict in a suit at law ? And shall questions of property, interest, or
politics be discussed with the warm energy of a glowing mind,—
and are the attributes of the adorable God and the destinies of
immortal souls, to be coldly treated in formal dissertations ? There
is no advocate who pleads a cause, like the advocate of the gos¬
pel. He stands in the place of Jesus Christ ; to maintain and
render effective those beneficent institutions, by him founded, on
which rests the hope of the human race through all ages and na¬
tions, and of the human soul throughout eternity. He sees and
knows that except so far as they prevail, darkness is over the
earth and gross darkness over the people ; he knows that just so
far as they prevail, light breaks upon men, and earth becomes
beaven. Yet he sees their blessed influences opposed. The
state of society, the pursuits of present interest, the principles of
a sensual life, the depravity of many and the ignorance of more,
perpetually thwart their gracious operation, and they are sustain¬
ed and powerful, if at all, through a perpetual struggle. Inter¬
mit the struggle, and their light flickers, and the darkness comes
over the land again. Who but the minister is to sustain that
struggle ? Who but he is set for the defence of that beacon light ?
And when, therefore, be reflects what a responsibility is laid upon
him,— when he looks on his fellow-men groping in darkness and
folly, turned into brutes by the horrible enchantments of earth and
sense, and knows that to him is committed the talisman by which
they are tobe re-changed to their human and celestial dignity,—
must he not feel that he is to be up and doing ? that his most
strenuous zeal is demanded ? that the most piercing and thrilling
cry of his voice must be lifted ? How else shall he so much as
catch the attention of those slumbering and giddy souls ? how
else can his voice be so much as heard amid the loud din of bu¬
siness and the resounding choruses of pleasure ? how else can he
hope to arrest the thoughtless throng of triflers, and persuade to
listen the scornful doubter, or put to shame the coarse blasphemer,
orcall into life the dead in trespasses ? — Oh, my brethren ! what
15
a work is that of the ministry, when we observe what is to be
done, and what obstacles there are to doing it ? One would think
that earth and heaven would he moved by our endeavors. Yet
how little do our pulpits exhibit of the great commotion 1 How
seldom are the thunders which shake the senate-house and the
forum, heard pealing through the temple of God ! How rarely
are the passions which weep and tremble at the fictions of the
stage, called on for a tear at the foot of the altar, or made to glow
or tremble at the realities of eternal truth ! We are all correct¬
ness, decorum and sobriety. We are careful to commit no faults,
we shock nobody's taste, we roughly waken no one's slumbers.
To be sure, we know that men ought to be interested in hea¬
venly things, and that if they do not count religion the one thing
needful, they will be ruined. But we think it would be risking
a great deal to tell them so, bluntly ; and if our plainness should
chance to offend them, why then our influence over them is
gone, and we can never do them any more good. And is in¬
fluence worth having, if we may not use it to bring men to
God ! As if the ministry were worth ■ maintaining, if it be only
an institution for bringing men together once a week, to be en¬
tertained with pleasant pieces of composition ! As well might
we flee away from our mission, like Jonah, as thus render it in-
eflicient by a timid and time-serving delivery.
There is, therefore, one further thing to characterise the
preacher, — plainness ; and this in two senses ; — that
of speaking plain truths, and that of speaking them in
plain terms. Very little is effected toward establishing over
men the authority and influence of the Christian religion, by
him who will not in perfect simplicity teach its plain truths, pre¬
cepts, and sanctions; but who, instead of this, only philoso¬
phises about them ; or amuses his hearers with speculations and
treatises on far sought questions of curiosity ; or charms their
ears with musical periods, and the careful pomp of magniloquent
declamation ; or uses the language of the learned for the instruc¬
tion of the ignorant. —If truth is to be communicated, it must
I
16
be made easily comprehensible by those to whom it is addressed.
If hearts are to be won, they must be spoken to in the language
of the heart. And so long as christian congregations are com¬
posed of all orders and classes of society, of women and children
as well as of men, and of the unlearned more than the learned,
— so long they must be addressed in terms of the most intelligi¬
ble plainness on those plain and simple subjects, which not only
alone interest, but alone concern them. Is it not mortifying,
when an assembly of waiting and needy souls is looking up to
learn of Christ and heaven,—to hear the wise man read to
them some elaborate dissertation, like a university prize essay,
for whicb it is impossible tbat tbey should feel more interest
than for a paper in the Philosophical Transactions respecting the
atmosphere of the planet Saturn ? Is it not mortifying, to ob¬
serve a sensible man, who, if he had been a lawyer, would have
spoken to a jury sensibly, as a man speaks to men,— now, be¬
cause be is a theologian, talk solemnly to his bewildered and
yawning congregation on some subject in which they have no
concern, and in some phraseology which he himself would not
dream of employing on any other occasion of real life ? Of
what value are subtle and ingenious disquisitions to souls that
have not yet mastered the elements of religious truth ? Of what
account the most acute and convincing argumentation, if so
put that it cannot be apprehended by the hearers ? Of what
avail the heartiest zeal, if it be wasted on a topic inappropriate,
or cloaked by unfamiliar speech, which falls dead upon the
ear ? Yet how much of this has there always been in the
christian Church ! How has the simplicity of Christ been
corrupted by the pedantry of mistaken learning, or buried be¬
neath a mass of cumbrous verbiage ! How often has the most
complicated instruction been given on subjects which required
the simplest, and to those audiences which needed, the plain¬
est !
But I must pause ; — for who can speak worthily of this great
function, by which God has appointed to convert and save the
n
world ? Who, brethren, has not in his mind an idea of the power,
grandeur, efficiency, of this divine instrument, which has never yet
been realized ? Who does not look with dissatisfaction on what
he has already done, and with despair on what he is likely to do ?
Yet, blessed be God ! he requires of us no extravagant and im¬
possible attainment. Nor are we to fancy that none are true
preachers of his word, who do not arrive at a certain excellence in
a certain way. The gospel is not so stinted a field as that would
imply. There are diversities of operations and gifts, all equally
valuable, and all of the same spirit. We cannot suppose that
the quiet and aflfectionate John preached like the impetuous Pe¬
ter, or that James rushed upon the souls of men with the torrent
and tempest of the impassioned Paul, — or that those whom Je¬
sus called sons of thunder were just such preachers as those whom
the disciples called sons of consolation. There is no one stand¬
ard. There may be, as there must be, differences. But it was
required then, it must be required now, that all preach the
GOSPEE, — rationally, earnestly, plainly. It is not necessary
that all be masters of an impetuous, exciting, overwhelming el¬
oquence. The gentle and quiet, the still small voice, may save
as many souls as the imposing and magnificent. But, whether
loud or soft, whether in thunders or in whispers, there must be
the same life-giving truth — the same spiritual unction — the same
simple-hearted earnestness. These it is that will be owned and
blest. These it is that will win souls to heaven, and accomplish
the mission of the Son of God.
Of the things which we have spoken, this, then, is the sum.
The minister of Christ advocates his gospel as a révélation ;
making known truth, proclaiming a law, announcing eternal sanc¬
tions. He upholds it as such against infidelity, indifference,
and sin, by every effort of a devoted heart and life ; especially
by vindicating it ffom the pulpit with the utmost earnestness
and plainness.
May it be your happiness. Brethren of this Church and Soci¬
ety, my very dear friends, to find in your Pastor such a defender
18
of the faith ; and may you and he rejoice in it together until the
day of the Lord ! — Brethren, I cordially congratulate you on the
prospects of the occasion. It has pleased the Lord to try you
by vicissitude and apprehension, but he has brought you to see
their end in light and hope. And it cannot but add to your sat¬
isfaction, in receiving your present Pastor, to enjoy the hearty
sympathy and receive the cordial God-speed of those who once
stood among you in the same relation, and now are separated from
you. They look back to those days when they lived among
you and shared your life, with remembrances full of gratitude to
God and to you. They bear thankful testimony to you in pres¬
ence of the churches ; and they commit to you this, our young¬
er brother, assured that his labors will be kindly appreciated and
his happiness affectionately guarded.
My young friend, I am sure that this people deserve, that they
will respond to, that they will second, the best work you can do
for them in this blessed cause ; and they will be, I know, as for¬
bearing and tender, as a minister, conscious of infirmities and often
needing forgiveness, can desire. Go among them, therefore,
without fear. Give them your confidence and your strength.
Labor for them and for God in a zealous and plain ministry ; en¬
couraged that they will be your reward here, and He your re¬
compense in heaven.
CHARGE.
BY REV. JAMES KENDALL, D. D.
OF PLYMOUTH, MASS.
My Dear Brother, —
You have already devoted yourself, heart and life, we trust,
to the service of God and the glorious cause of his heloved Son.
And, hy the religious ceremonies pertaining to Ordination, you
have this day heen set apart and solemnly consecrated to the sa¬
cred work of the christian ministry. You now stand in a new
relation, particularly to this Church and Society. You are their
Pastor, — their religious teacher — by the dispensation of God,
the constituted messenger and minister of christian light, grace
and truth to their souls. As the organ of the ecclesiastical council
now convened, and by your desire, the duty has devolved on me
to deliver the customary charge.
We do not, however, hy this service assume apostolic authori¬
ty. We pretend not, like the inspired messengers of God, to
impart miraculous power — nor to confer spiritual gifts. We
claim hy this ceremony no dominion over your faith. We pre¬
scribe to you no formula of doctrines or opinions of man's inven¬
tion. We refer you to the great Apostle of the Gentiles, who
received his commission directly from his Lord, as a text-book,
for self-instruction and admonition, to learn all the claims of a
people upon their minister, and his duty to them. We have
come to strengthen your hands, and to encourage your heart,
and to be helpers of your joy. We have come not merely to
3
20
remind you of the responsibleness of the sacred office of a chris¬
tian teacher — not to dishearten and oppress you in the outset
by magnifying the trials and discouragements that may await
you — but to stir up your mind to holy resolves — a singleness
of purpose — by the help of God, to discharge with fidelity and
acceptance its sacred duties—and to meet and endure with a
martyr's spirit whatever trials heaven in its wisdom may mete
out to you.
As an ambassador of Christ, your office is to persuade men in
Christ's stead to be reconciled unto God. By a faithful dis¬
charge of this momentous duty, you will save yourself and them
that hear you. At least, by fidelity in the sacred office, you
will save yourself— and, though Israel be not gathered, yet you
will be glorious in the eyes of the Lord, and God will be your
strength. Whatever may be the apparent fruit of your labors,
it must be some consolation to be assured on the highest author¬
ity, that your recompense will be regulated, not by your seeming
success, but by your faithfulness in your Master's service — that,
under the most disheartening prospect, your judgment is with
the Lord, and your work and its reward with your God. Be
patient, therefore, my brother, unto the coming of the Lord.
Behold, the husbandman waiteth for the precious fruit of the
earth, and hath long patience for it, until he receive the early
and latter rain. Be not weary, then, in well-doing ; for in due
season thou shalt reap, if thou faint not.
But permit us, with the sympathy and solicitude of brethren
in the common faith, to charge and exhort you to take heed to
yourself. See that your own heart be right with God. Go
forth to your work in the spirit and with the fearlessness of one
engaged in the service and bearing the message of God, and
seeking the improvement and salvation of men. Take Christ
for an example, and arm yourself with the same mind. Be filled
with all the fulness of God — and the fulness of the blessing of
the gospel of Christ. Let your whole soul, with the purest and
best affections of the heart, be engaged in this great work—i
21
work, for the accomplishment of which the Infinite Father did
not spare even his own Son, but delivered him up for us all.
Let your mind be deeply impressed by the consideration that
you are to toil, not to prepare men to live on the earth merely,
but in heaven — to dispense to them the bread of life and the
water of life — that, as a spiritual laborer, you are to do what
you can to fit them to dwell in the presence of God — to reign
with Jesus Christ — to hold fellowship with angels and the spir¬
its of just men made perfect — and with a great multitude, which
no man can number, to enter upon brighter scenes, and join in
holier services, and participate sublimer joys in the temple above.
This regard to your own mind and heart will incline you to
take heed to the ministry, which you have received in the Lord,
that you fulfil it. The great purpose of the christian ministry,
and which ought never to be lost sight of, is to make men wise
and good, in order that they may, and before they can, be happy
either in this world, or that which is to come. For the accom¬
plishment of this glorious purpose, so devoutly to be wished, let
your instruction be drawn from the fountain of eternal truth —
the revelation of Jesus Christ — and adapted to the understand¬
ings and hearts, the reason and conscience, the condition anJ
wants of the people of your charge. As a servant of the Most
High God, labor to impart to the minds and hearts of your hear¬
ers the light and knowledge of christian truth and love. By ex¬
hibiting as clearly and forcibly as you may the evidences of this
religion, endeavor to satisfy them, that it came from God — that
it bears upon the very face of it the seal and stamp of its divin¬
ity — that it was first promulgated by the mouth of his beloved
Son — who proved his authority, as the Messenger of grace and
truth to the world, by speaking as never man spake — by doing
those things, which no man could do, except God were with
him — and, finally, by rising from the dead, and ascending visi¬
bly and gloriously into heaven. By all the motives which Chris¬
tianity has brought to light, entreat them thankfully to accept
this unspeakable gift — to embrace it sincerely and cordially as
22
the power of God and the wisdom of God unto salvation to ev¬
ery one that believeth. Let them see by the earnestness, the
spirit and power with which you enforce the great truths of this
religion, that it is your own faith which you preach, as well as
the faith once delivered to the saints — that you not only believe,
but believe with all the heart, and are ready to testify, come
what will, that the Father sent the Son to be the Saviour of the
world. As the gospel appeals for its truth and heavenly origin
to the reason and understanding of men, so follow out this appeal
by showing that it is a rational religion — that it accords with
the attributes and perfections of God as declared in his works
in everything we see around, above and beneath us — with his
paternal character and his righteous moral government, as a wise,
just, and merciful Father — whose will and purpose are tore-
claim his children from error and sin, and to bring them to the
knowledge and obedience of the truth — to form them to a near¬
er resemblance of his own image, and make them partakers of
the glory that shall be revealed. If you would be wise to win
souls to Christ, take heed that you do not present Christianity to
the mind in a dark, distorted, repulsive form, from which reason,
•and common sense, and the best powers of the understanding
revolt — but in its true light — its primitive simplicity and puri¬
ty— that the mind may perceive its beauty and excellence — its
harmony with the works of God and the dispensations of his
Providence — and its adaptation to the condition, circumstances,
and wants of mankind, as frail, dependent, offending, accounta¬
ble beings, who need mercy and forgiveness — and who may
find the grace which they need by turning unto God, and walk¬
ing in the truth. Since there is no substitute for repentance and
holiness either in the doctrines or sufferings of Christ, press upon
the minds of your hearers, what the grace of God teacheth ; that
the great object both of his life and his death — of all he did,
and taught, and suffered, was to redeem mankind from all iniqui¬
ty, and ' to purify unto himself a peculiar people zealous of good
works.' Point them to the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, as the
23
source and origin to which the redemption of the world is to he
traced. Let them see, and feel, and confess, that it was the In¬
finite Father's love for the world, dark and guilty as it was, that
first moved in this great and glorious work — that it was his
love, that sent his only begotten Son into the world, that whoso¬
ever believeth in him might not perish, hut have everlasting
life —that Jesus Christ is the medium through whom this love
was manifested, and by whom access is had to the mercy-seat —
that being by divine appointment the one and only Mediator be¬
tween God and man, and invested with all authority and all pow¬
er to finish, and to finish triumphantly the work assigned him —
he is able and mighty to save to the uttermost all who come unto
God by him.
If you would declare all the counsel of God, describe to the
people of your charge the great evil, the dangerous tendency,
the ruinous consequences of sin. Say to transgressors, plainly
and boldly, whether they will hear, or whether they forbear, that
without repentance there is no forgiveness, and without holiness
there is no heaven for them ; and that their own care, and labor,
and watchfulness, and prayers, as woi kers together with God, are
indispensable, in order to effect that moral renovation, that spir¬
itual mindedness, without which they cannot be partakers of the
divine nature, and can have no portion among them who are
sanctified.
But he a messenger of comfort, a son of consolation, to the
broken and contrite heart. Break not the bruised reed. Quench
not the smoking flax. But in the spirit and after the example of
the great Teacher, feed and nourish the vital spark, though found
in the meekest, humblest form, until it be kindled to a flame,
not a consuming fire, but a reviving, cheering, shining light, that
shines brighter and brighter unto the perfect day.
In the discharge of parochial duty, give to the aged, to whom
fears are in the way and the grasshopper has become a burden,
a due share in your sympathy, your filial attentions, your kind
instructions, your affectionate intercessions. Study to lighten
24
the burden of their infirmities, and to relieve the hours of lone¬
liness and privation, by seasonable visits and friendly salutations.
They will tell you with a grateful heart and a tearful eye how
much you have done, and may still do, to support their trembling
steps, to give quietness and confidence and strength to their faint¬
ing spirits, and smooth their downward passage to the grave.
' Rebuke not an elder — but entreat him as a father.'
The young are your hope and the hope of the Church ; and,
that they be your joy and crown of rejoicing, bestow on them
much of your care and labor. Study and pursue the best means
for forming the young and tender mind to early virtue and piety.
Youth is the seed-time of life ; and, if you would feel any sat¬
isfaction in seeing the growth, any delight in tasting the joy of
harvest, you must prepare well the ground at this precious sea¬
son, and scatter freely the good seed. Lead them early to Jesus,
the good Shepherd, who, to express his tenderness and love for
the lambs of the flock, required them to be brought to his fold,
to be nourished and fed there, and held them up as a pattern of
the christian temper and character, without which there is no en¬
trance into the kingdom of heaven. Let them see both by your
teaching and example, that there is nothing gloomy, nothing un¬
social, nothing stern or forbidding in the religion of such a Mas¬
ter ; that, except to the vicious and profligate, the ungodly and
the sinner, ' her ways are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths
peace.'
Dwell among this people, my brother, as one who comforteth
the mourners. Let them share largely in your sympathies, your
counsels, and your prayers. Improve the afflictive visitations of
Providence by impressing their minds and hearts, softened and
melted in the furnace of affliction, with a deeper sense of the
value and importance of Christianity, as the only eflectual source
of consolation in seasons of bereavement and sorrow. Approach
them at such seasons with tokens of kindness and sympathy, with
an air of unaffected pity and condolence ; that when the ear
hears you it may bless you ; and when the eye sees you, it may
25
give witness to you — as one who has skill to soothe and heal
the wounded spirit, to give quietness and peace to the troubled
mind, and cause the widow's heart to sing for joy.
The chambers of the sick and the bed of the dying will claim
your attention and your services ; and, however trying and pain¬
ful the duty, it must he met calmly, and performed faithfully.
And whatever doubts you may feel at any time as to the benefit
of your services to others, in the intervals of reason and between
the paroxysms of disease ; yet, with respect to yourself, I trust,
you will have no doubt. There is an air of tenderness and so¬
lemnity surrounding such scenes, which give a deeper tone of
religious feeling to our services generally, and awaken in us a
deeper interest for the objects of our solicitude, our instruction,
and our prayers.
Encourage the humble, the sincere, the piously disposed, to
come to the ordinances of the gospel, and enjoy the benefits and
comforts of christian fellowship and communion. Explain to
them the nature and purpose of these simple rites, and the ob¬
ligation of believers religiously to observe them. Prescribe no
terms of admission to these holy ordinances, that are not war¬
ranted by Christ or his inspired apostles. Help them to discern
things that differ, to discriminate between the sign and the thing
signified, the image and the original, the memorial and the object
to be remembered. Let them see that these institutions, though
presented to the senses, yet speak to the heart ; and that the ser¬
vice, to be accepted and to answer the purpose for which it was
appointed, must be a spiritual service — the exercise of the mind
and heart, the understanding and affections, with a single view,
in obedience to the Master's dying command, to keep him in re¬
membrance, and, thus, to promote their spiritual improvement,
their christian advancement, their growth in grace and in the
knowledge of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ.
One word more, my brother, and I shall have done. The
name, which you are privileged to bear, and the relation in which
I stand, by succession in office, to a name so justly revered and
26
the remembrance of which is so fondly cherished, will justiiy
me, on this occasion, as a further motive to fidelity to the sacred
trust now committed to you, to remind you of the character and
example of your venerated and pious Grandfather.* Let the
spirit of holy zeal, of fervent, elevated piety, of apostolic faith¬
fulness, and unreserved devotion to the cause of his divine Mas¬
ter, which characterized his ministry ; fall, like the mantle of the
prophet, on you his Grandson. And indeed, if it be so, that,
in a more enlightened age, and with greater advantages, more
light and truth have broken forth from the written word upon
your mind, than he was privileged to enjoy ; let it be seen by
proportional qualifications for the christian ministry ; by, at least,
as high attainments in the christian character, and equal devot-
edness to the cause of God and human salvation. Though dead
he yet speaketh, and the ascended spirit, bending in sympathy
with the occasion from its bright abode, seems to say to you, in
the language of parental solicitude and affection — My son, you
have engaged in o great work. But be of good courage, they
that wait on the Lord shall find strength. Grace be with thee.
Be thou faithful unto death, and Christ shall give thee a crown
of life.
* Rev. Chandler Robbins, D. D. For nearly forty years the highly respected
and devoted Pastor of the First Church in Plymouth.
RIGHT HAND OF FELLOWSHIP.
BY REV. FRANCIS PARKMAN,
OF BOSTON.
It is with a cordial satisfaction that we welcome you, my
brother, to the Christian ministry, and to this Church which is
henceforth to be the scene of your labors. God hath conducted
you hither amidst manifest tokens of His approving providence ;
and we rejoice with you in our hopes, that a relation, auspiciously
commenced, may be attended with heavenly blessings. There is
a fitness in the order as well as in the design of these solemnities,
sanctioned as they are by venerable usage, and many hallowed
associations. It seems in itself highly proper, the suggestion of
a Christian love, that having set before you your duties — and it
is among the benefits of these occasions that they remind us of
our own ; — and having invoked for you in solemn prayer, the
grace, of which we must all feel our need, we should express
the sympathies and congratulations which spring out of our com¬
mon relation, which the ministers of Christ Jesus should ever
cherish for one another, and in the cheering influences of which
you may enter on your course rejoicing.
I think myself happy, my brother, that on this occasion this
duty devolves on me. In the name, therefore, and by the re¬
quest of these assembled Churches and of their ministers, I give
you this Right Hand of Fellowship. Accept it as the token at
once of our personal and of our ofiicial regard ; the pledge of our
4
28
friendship, co-operation and prayers. You will not, I am cer¬
tain, count it an unmeaning, or a merely decorous part of these
solemnities. For we remember when we bffer it, the words of
the Master, how he said, ' By this shall all men know that ye
are my disciples, if ye have love one towards another.' And we
are taught by that apostle, who was commanded to approve his
faithfulness to his Lord, by feeding the flock, that all the purify¬
ing influences on our hearts of obeying the truth through the
spirit are to unfeigned love of the brethren.
In this love, the ministers of the Churches, in whose name I
speak, have always been united. We recognize it as the badge
of our profession ; as the end of the commandment, the very
fulfilling of the law. Nor is it among the least of the blessings,
which it becomes us gratefully to acknowledge, that amidst all
our diversities of gifts and of speculations, with the full enjoy¬
ment of individual freedom and independence, we have shared
so much and so long, almost, I might say, without exception or
interruption, the pleasures of a hearty fellowship. These
Churches, as well as their pastors, have partaken in full measure
of the same spirit ; so that the joy of one is, as at this day, the
joy of all. True indeed it is, that our charity has been re¬
proached for indifference ; and a remnant remain even to this
day of those who think, perhaps they dream, that our unity of
spirit is only in a bond of heresy. But being taught of God to
love one another, we must count it, my brother, a small thing to
be judged of man's judgment ; and will not cease, amidst all we
may acknowledge for our humiliation, devoutly to bless the God
of all grace that He has given us to know how good and how
pleasant it is for brethren to dwell in unity ; that no root of bit¬
terness has been suffered to spring up among ourselves ; and that
by no unworthy selfishness, no degrading jealousies, has the cause
of the Master been defiled.
When, therefore, my brother, we extend to you this Right
Hand, it is not, I repeat, an unmeaning form. It is the pledge,
not of what ought to be, nor of what the decorum of the occasion.
29
or a certain speculative charity might constrain us to hope would
he. But it is the sign of what is, and what we cordially feel, a
Christian fellowship. In it we rejoice in your prospects, which
are bright ; and we welcome you to your duties, to your trials,
also, and rewards. To your duties, with our trust, that though
arduous as they are honorable, you may faithfully fulfil them; to
your trials, with our prayers, that since as a good soldier you
may not hope to escape, the Father of mercies may strengthen
you to sustain them, and make them, like all his blessed provi¬
dence, a ministry of good ; — and to your rewards, which if you
are but faithful, shall be to you in the present world a peace that
passeth understanding, and the smallest portion of which in the
future shall prove a far more exceeding and eternal weight of
glory.
Might I be permitted to mingle for a moment any personal
considerations with the services of this occasion, I should say,
that they associate themselves with my grateful, though solemn
recollections. With this week, which commences your ministry,
are completed just twenty years of mine, since I first became the
pastor of our associated church,* and received from the lips of
your elder predecessor, the apostolic Lathrop, the charge which
has now been addressed to you. That venerable man, whose
light shone pure and bright in this golden candlestick for nearly
half a century, in a tribute to my lamented predecessor, the
learned and candid Eliot, uttered this concerning him,— 'At his
* The New North and the Second Churches in this city have been associated
for nearly a century ; the pastors officiating in turn in a monthly lecture, pre¬
vious to the administration of the Lord's Supper. The proposal to unite in this
service was made by the New North Church in July, 1739.
The Rev Dr Lathrop was ordained pastor of the second or Old North Church,
afterwards united with the New-Brick, in May, 1768, and died January 4,
1816. Dr John Eliot, who not more for his historical learning and classic
taste, than for the child-like artlessness and modesty of his temper, has been
called by a cotemporary ' the Jortin of America,' succeeded his father, Dr
Andrew Eliot, as pastor of the New North Church, November 3,1779, and died
February 14, 1818, after a ministry of somewhat more than thirty-three years.
The present writer was ordained as his successor, December 8,1813.
30
departure I lost a brother, with whom in an intimacy of more
than thirty-three years, I never exchanged a feeling or a look but
of perfect friendship.'
Let me adduce this testimony of my spiritual guide and father,
himself a close follower of the disciple whom Jesus loved, as an
example of the cordial fellowship which has always blest these
ministers and churches, and which we now proffer to you. When
I consider the interval that separates the heginings of our minis¬
try, I may not indeed hope for myself, that our earthly friendship
shall he as long. God grant that it may he as pure and faithful.
And may it please the Father of spirits so to preserve your
spirit and lengthen your days, that he who at their close shall
he standing in my lot, may utter the same grateful testimony of
you. God Almighty bless you, my brother, and make your
ministry long, and useful, and happy. May the angel of his
presence go with you, to redeem you from all evil, from wasting
sickness, from perplexing griefs, and most of all from an heart
not right with God. May you go in and out before this people
in the majesty of an approving conscience, and thence in a gene¬
rous confidence of their affection ; with the humility of a servant
who must give account, in the grace of the Lord Jesus, and the
strength of the Most High.
And may you, brethren and friends of this congregation, who
have welcomed him hither, long rejoice in his light. Your antic¬
ipations of the future are mingled this day, I know, with affec¬
tionate remembrances of the past; of friendships, still fresh
amidst the changes of time ; of successive ministries, whose fruits
remain. We seek a blessing from this house of God upon them
who have spoken, as on him who henceforth shall speak to you,
the word of salvation. May their voices still instruct and glad¬
den many hearts. May your names and theirs, the names
of the pastors and of the flock, he written together in the Lamb's
hook of life ; and may you he gathered at last into one fold,
under one shepherd, even the Shepherd and Bishop of souls.
HYMNS.
BY MR 0. W. WITHINGTON.
Gracious Loird ! we come before thee
With a deep and fervent prayer,
That our spirits may adore thee
And thy sweet communion share.
Hear us in thy holy dwelling,
Listen to our proffered claim.
And the voices which are swelling
Praises to thine honored name.
May the one whom thou hast given
As thy chosen servant here,
Lead us in the path of Heaven,
Guide us in thy love and fear.
Father, may his strength ne'er falter
In the work thou giv'st to do.
May he stand before thine altar
With a spirit firm and true.
View the worship we may raise thee.
With a father's eye of love.
Till this congregation praise thee
With a purer song above.
32
BY REV. R. W. EMERSON.
We love the venerable house
Our fathers built to God ; —
In heaven are heard their grateful vows.
Their hones are in the sod.
Here holy thoughts a light have shed
From many a radiant face,
And prayers of humble virtue made
The perfume of the place.
And anxious hearts have pondered here
The mystery of life,
And prayed the eternal spirit clear
Their doubts, and aid their strife.
From humble tenements around.
Came up the pensive train.
And in the church a blessing found
That filled their homes again ;
For faith and peace and mighty love
That from the Godhead fiow,
Show'd them the life of heaven above
Springs from the life below.
They live with God ; their homes are dust ;
But here the children pray.
And in their fleeting life-time trust
To find the narrow way.
On HIM who by the altar stands.
On him, thy spirit send ;
Speak through his lips thj* pure commands.
Our Father and our friend.
TUE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY.
A
DISCOURSE
DELIVERED AT THE ORDINATION
OF
REV. ANDREW P. PEABODY,
OVER THE
SOUTH CHURCH AND SOCIETY
AT PORTSMOUTH, N.H.
AS COLLEAGUE PASTOR WITH
REV. NATHAN PARKER, D. D.
OCTOBER 24, 1833.
BY EZRA S. GANNETT,
JUNIOR MINISTER OF THE FEDERAL STREET SOCIETY, BOSTON.
PUBLISHED BY REQUEST.
J. w.
PORTSMOUTH:
FOSTER —J. F. SHORES.
1833.
TÜTTLE AND WEEKS, PRINTERS.
DISCOURSE.
1 corinthians, iv. 1.
Let a man so account of us, as of the ministers of Christ.
The institution of the Christian ministry is one on which
it is impossible to look with unconcern. It may be viewed
with very different feelings, according to the intellectual
habits or the moral associations of men, but no one will pre¬
sume to deny its intimate connexion with the state and pros¬
pects of society. In New England it has always been held
in high esteem ; and instead of thinking, with some, that it
is passing into disrepute, I only observe in the changes of
public sentiment concerning it, indications of a desire on the
part of the people, and a necessity on its own part, that it
should accommodate itself to the circumstances by which it
is surrounded — circumstances very dissimilar to those under
which it existed two centuries, or even half a century, ago.
In satisfying this " demand of the age" it is of the first
importance, that the ministry retain its essential character.
The modifications which it may undergo must not affect
its nature — must not make it anything else than the Christian
ministry. As such it was instituted by the Author of our
religion, and as such it must be continued among his disciples
till there shall be no more opportunity for its exercise on
earth. " Let a man so account of us," says the most dis-
4
tinguished of those in whose hands it was first placed, " let
a man so account of us, as of the ministers of Christ." And
no words can their successors in the clerical office address
with more pertinency to their contemporaries, or with more
propriety adopt as their own motto. " Let a man " — every
man, believer or unbeliever, religious or irreligious, friend or
foe, if foes we have — let him " so account of us as of the
ministers of Christ."
We have here then an unchangeable feature, or rather, as
I before styled it, the essential character of the ministry to
which our thoughts are drawn by the solemnities of this day.
It is a Christian ministry — distinctively and emphatically
Christian. The moment it forfeits this name, it aims a fatal
blow at itself. From this statement probably no one in the
whole world would dissent. But divers meanings may be
given to the terms of which it is composed, and from this
variety of interpretation it is easy to see that much practical
diversity may arise. Our thoughts cannot more closely pur¬
sue the purpose of the present occasion than in seeking an
answer to tiie question. Why the ministry receives this appel¬
lation ? Why and how is it a Christian ministry ? In the
remarks which 1 may now offer, it will be my object to fur¬
nish a reply to this question.
I have said that there is an emphasis in this language. It
is not used in a loose sense, for convenience only, or the
sake of outward distinction. Such latitude of meaning is
allowed to the word "Christian," that it might be thought
we denote no more by it in this instance than when we speak
of " the Christian world," or " a Christian land." But it
has a more precise import in the connéxion in which it is
now quoted. It distinguishes, indeed, the ministry of Chris¬
tendom from the priesthood of ancient or modern idolatries,
and from any class of men whom Moses by divine command,
or Mohammed from considerations of policy, may have
clothed with peculiar functions. But can you, my hearers.
5
think that it expresses no more than this contrast? Did
you call my brother to assume the labors of the ministry
among you, and should you be satisfied to believe that
he contemplated its responsibilities no further than they may
be indicated by such an explanation ? Or is " Christian,"
like " Orthodox," a word of indeterminate meaning, liable
to fluctuations that may stretch or contract it to any degree
within very distant extremes ? It ought not to be so cori-
sidered ; for it does not describe the changing opinions of
men, but the everlasting principles of truth. It has a mean¬
ing which it draws from the word and will of God, from his
special mercy, and not from his general providence. It has,
I say, at once a larger and a more exact meaning, which I
will now endeavor to explain.
The value of the expression may be ascertained by paying
a proper regard to five particulars.
I. To the first of these I just now adverted, when I de¬
nied that it exhibited the tvhole force of the term. The
Christian ministry acknowledges, propounds, and celebrates
Jesus Christ as a Divine messenger. It does not speak of
him as a good man, as a wise man, as the best teacher whom
Providence has ever raised up, or the author of the most
correct system of theology or the most comprehensive and
pure code of morality that was ever prepared by the human
mind. It is not content with describing him as a singularly
excellent being, who fell a martyr to his philanthropy. It
takes the ground neither of English deism, nor of German nat¬
uralism. It listens with as little sympathy to the criticisms
of Paulus as to the ridicule of Bolingbroke or the arguments
of Hume. Its first great truth, the foundation of its own
existence, the topic of its continual instruction is, that God
sent Jesus Christ into this world filled with his spirit of truth
and holiness and endowed with a miraculous power, and
did by supernatural means and independently of the usual
courses of his providence set him forth a Teacher, Lord,
6
and Saviour. The divine mission of Christ is its belief and
theme ; — not a mission like that which Socrates had, through
a sensibility of the spiritual nature in which he stands alone
among uninspired men ; nor like that which Howard had,
through the impulses of a generous heart ; nor like that which
Moses and the prophets had, to accomplish certain local and
temporary ends ; but a mission which he received by direct
inspiration, to proclaim to the world truths by which the
whole family of mankind in all its generations might be ben¬
efited. The ministry is a bulwark against infidelity, whether
it come under the form of French sophistry or American
blasphemy. It has no regards but those of pity or abhor¬
rence for him who treats the Gospel as a wicked imposture,
or an ingenious invention, or a fortunate discovery. It goes
out to labor with the badge of its service on its front—
Christ our Master, the Son of God. It goes to warfare,
bearing on its standard the inscription — Christ our Redeem¬
er, whom the Father has made to be the Author of eternal
life to them that believe on his name. You might as well
overlook the sun in searching after the cause of light, nay,
as well omit the Bible in enumerating the sources of faith
in immortality, as suppose that the ministry can have any
other foundation than that which was laid in the miraculous
mission of Jesus Christ.
Familiar as this point is, and obvious as it may seem, I
insist upon it, because it is not uncommon of late to meet
with language calculated to produce an impression that faith
in the divine mission of our Lord is of little value. Chris¬
tian believers, and Christian ministers, are ranked with Infi¬
dels, although they be strenuous supporters of the truth, that
Christ spake not of himself, but as the Father gave him com¬
mandment ; as if the difference between a believer and a
denier or a doubter of this truth were not immense — in*
mense ; as if to credit or to discredit the most important
fact in the history of the world, and after the existence of a
7
God, the most important fact known to us in the history of
the universe, were an alternative about which one need feel
no anxiety. I do not say that a belief of this fact will make
a man a saint, or save him from hell ; but I do maintain that
so far from being of little moment, it constitutes a broad line
of separation between two classes of people, whom it is as
unjust to confound as it is impossible to reconcile. The
believer and the unbeliever contradict each other on a ques¬
tion, which according to the former is of greater interest than
any that was ever agitated in the schools of philosophy or in
the councils of cabinets. On this question the ministry
offers itself as the champion of one of the parties, and by
redeeming its pledge vindicates its title to the name of
Christian.
II. The profession of faith in Christ as a Divine messen¬
ger is the origin of the second argument by which the min¬
istry enforces its right to this name, viz. that, which alleges
its acknowledgment of Christ as the supreme authority in
matters of religion. The supreme authority ; because in
regard to instruction and duty it considers him as one with
God. Christ is the representative of the Supreme Mind,
the Infinite Lawgiver. In his own character he may be
viewed independently of his peculiar relation to the Deity,
but in his capacity of teacher he was only the organ of the
Divine will. God spake through him. He was more truly
the voice of God than is a book the declaration of its au¬
thor's sentiments. What he said is the same as if it had
come from the Invisible Glory through the simple channel of
sound. He was "the Word," which was God, and when it
dwelt in flesh uttered forth its mandates in the tone of con¬
scious supremacy. The Christian minister recognises this
truth in all his labors. Most diligently and cautiously does
he inquire what Christ taught, but when that is determined,
suspense is at an end. It is not for him to doubt if the doc¬
trine be true, or the command obligatory ; for such doubt is
8
precluded by the admission of a divine message. When
his Lord's meaning is ascertained, though it be as strange as
the system of Copernicus seemed to the men of his time, or
as marvellous as the reply of Jesus to the young ruler, " Sell
all that thou hast and follow me," he is bound to receive and
obey the instruction. What ! shall the soldier dispute the
orders that emanate from the fountain-head of authority ?
May he set them aside on his own will or judgment ? May
the pupil, even if he be entrusted with some subordinate
province of teaching, substitute his notions for those of the
master and presume to question the propriety of his rules ?
Yes — the pupil may hesitate, the soldier may resist, and
each of them merit praise, though he suffer for his indepen¬
dence, but the Christian minister must never, never set him¬
self in opposition to his Lord. " To his own master" alone
" he standeth or falleth," but to that master he does stand
or fall ; and wo to him, who acknowledging the divinity
of Christ's teaching raises a question about the propriety of
following its injunctions. Wo to him for the shame of his
self-contradiction — wo to him for the mischief of his ex¬
ample.
It is not his own opinion only which he must not erect
into a tribunal of judgment upon the Lord Jesus, but he must
not let any other human tribunal usurp the exercise of an
authority which rests, where it was deposited by God, with
Jesus Christ. He may not call any man, or any body of
men, master in the concerns of religion. One voice has
told him what to believe and what to do, and he has no
more right to produce a confusion of sounds by letting other
voices mingle with it, than he has to " cry peace, peace,
when there is no peace." " He that hath ears to hear, let
him hear," is the continual charge of the gospel. Let him
to whom is granted the opportunity of consulting its oracles
listen reverently. Let him exclude the sounds of earth, that
he may receive the divine communication in its simplicity*
9
Shall I give up my privilege of sitting at the feet of Jesus for
the sake of learning in any school of human origin ? No —
I will not seem to be so insensible to the value of his teaching
who " spake as never man spake." Shall I permit others to
tell me what are the commands of Christ, when I can learn
them from his own lips ? No — I dare not do this. I have
no right to part with my liberty, for it is bound in insepara¬
ble union with my responsibleness. I know not how some
men have the courage to rest their faith on the decision of
their fellow-mortals, when the Scriptures in which they may
read the very words of a Divine instructer are in their hands.
I should be afraid to choose any other master than him whom
God has given me. I know not how some ministers can go
into their pulpits and preach Calvin, or Swedenborg, or Wes¬
ley, instead of preaching Christ ; or how some can quote the
decrees of Councils or a Confession of faith, instead of the
New Testament. Strange infatuation, that turns the disci¬
ples of the Son of God into vassals crouching before the
shades of the sons of men !
I enlarge on this topic, my hearers, because, much as has
been said for the last three centuries about free inquiry, no
subject is less understood among Christians. As by some it
is dreaded, so by others it is abused. On two questions it is
not only right, but advisable for every one to inquire with
the utmost latitude of investigation that circumstances may
permit ; on these two questions, namely. Was Jesus Christ a
Divine messenger, and what did he teach ; or to put them
in a different shape, Is the New Testament true, and what
is its meaning ? On thèse points let whatever is pertinent
be collected and sifted, till every one shall be fully per¬
suaded in his own mind and shall be able to give a reason
for his faith and hope. But when free inquiry passes these
bounds, and assumes a right to place the instructions of
Jesus on a level with the wisdom of ancient or modern
times, it becomes insolent, and should be rebuked. If it be
2
10
criminal to exchange allegiance to the one Lord Jesus Christ
for submission to human names or human assemblies, it is not
innocent to treat the declarations of Jesus Christ as the lan¬
guage of fallible humanity. The one is treason, and so is
the other — treason against the majesty of God.
III. The ministry is not confined however to an expo¬
sition of the teaching of Christ. It makes his character the
subject of careful study — of frequent exhibition. The char¬
acter of Christ ; — on this infinite theme I wish it were pos¬
sible for me to utter my own feelings. I call it an infinite
theme, for such it appears to me. It has received far less
attention, from Christians of every sect, than it merits. It
comprises, I believe, a revelation of all that can be known
of God or of human duty. The language of the New Testa¬
ment respecting Jesus is very remarkable. Not only are ex¬
pressions used which are connected with the name of no
one else, but the general strain of writing in the Apostolic
Epistles is suited to impress the reader with the idea of a
greater superiority than could have been the result of his pecu¬
liar commission. Our Lord spoke of himself in terms which
suggest such an idea. Most of our brethren in the Christian
faith explain this language by ascribing to him an essential
equality with the Divine Being, or by attributing to him an
agency alike mysterious and indispensable in preparing the
way for man's salvation. We cannot adopt either of these
opinions, but we do not therefore deny the peculiar character
of this phraseology. We find the key to its significance in
the moral excellence of Christ. Unlike every other being
that has appeared on earth, he was sinless and perfect. From
the beginning to the close of his abode in the flesh no stain
rested on his soul, nor did even the breath of evil desire for
a moment darken his purity. We behold in him an un¬
precedented and unparalleled combination of virtues. He
united the most dissimilar traits ; dignity with humility, con¬
sciousness of power with meekness and tenderness, the most
11
delicate sensibility with an adamantine fortitude, devotion to
the will of God with boundless philanthropy, abhorrence of
sin with compassion for the sinner, excellence on the broad¬
est scale with fidelity to duty in the minutest details. In
short, there was no defect and no excess. We cannot ima¬
gine his character despoiled of a single attribute, and not per¬
ceive that it would be injured by the loss. We cannot add
a single grace, that would not mar its symmetry. We should
call him an example of human perfection, if we did not re¬
member that he was the image of the Infinite Father. It is
this double capacity—this twofold relation, springing out of
a single and unchangeable fact, which distinguishes Jesus
amidst all others who have revealed truth or inculcated duty.
He was the link between the human and the Divine, partici.
pating in the glory of the one without sharing in the imper¬
fections of the other, yet having with the former a closer
sympathy, if it were possible, than with the latter. It was
his prerogative, and his alone, to say to those who were in¬
quiring the way to heaven, " I have left you an example that
you should follow my steps," and at the same time to reply
to one who desired to see God, " He who hath seen me hath
seen the Father." Before this prerogative all other distinc¬
tion seems unsubstantial. What is the glory of office,
even though it be the office of Mediator and Redeerrer —
what is this glory when compared with that of being at once
the representative of the Invisible Deity, and the pattern for
all future generations of men ? It was a high commission
which Jesus held, when he brought truth and grace from the
bosom of the Eternal Father. It was a noble service which
he rendered, when he became the Saviour of those who were
ready to perish. It was an act to compel the admiration,
even of the bad, when he died that others might live. But
all this prééminence was lost in the blaze of that glory, which
encircles his name as the manifestation of perfect excellence.
In him were hidden all the treasures of knowledge and love.
12
In him truth was embodied. In his character the everlasting
principles of the Divine government, the essential doctrines
of religion, were manifested. " I am," said he, " the truth."
The character of Jesus presents itself to me both as a rev¬
elation and as a miracle, — a moral miracle, the only one of
its class ever seen on earth.
" God in the person of his Son
Has all his noblest works outdone."
That one should have lived in this world, subject to the
infirmities of the flesh and exposed to the temptations of
life, spotless, faultless, absolutely destitute of sin, error and
defect, may be more justly termed miraculous, than that
the dead should have recovered the functions of vitality ;
for it had no resemblance in the history or the experience of
men. Here Jesus Christ stood alone. " Greater works
than these shall ye do," said he to his disciples, — greater
miracles than I have wrought shall fill men with astonishment
at your power ; but not a greater miracle than I am, shall
you offer to their admiration : he made no such promise.
Peter, John, Paul was not a second Christ. No. He was
alone in the grandeur and beauty and perfection of his char¬
acter. And now, I ask, do you think this solitary wonder, this
matchless reality, this monologue of existence, if I may so style
it, was meant for no special purpose, or was intended only
to prove the divinity of his mission ? That was proved by
other evidences, wonderful in themselves, and yet in compar¬
ison with this marvel, common-place — by his physical mira¬
cles, by his prophecies, by his resurrection. We must assign
to this prodigy an adequate purpose, and while I can dis¬
cover nothing short of that which considers it a revelation —
notan evidence nor a sanction, not the credential nor the seal,
but a revelation — of truth, while I find nothing short of this
that will satisfy me, I rest here in the conviction that I have
found its meaning, its purpose, its justification, its worth and
its glory.
13
This character is the continual study and theme of the*
Christian ministry. It is, did I say ? Oh ! that it were more,
ten thousand times more than it is. Oh ! that the teachers of
religion would give the time which they waste on vain re¬
searches, or yet more vain disputes, to this great field of
knowledge, where they might find new beauty and wealth at
every step. If preaching made this its more frequent subject,
we should not hear so often of the dulness and monotony of
the pulpit. One could not be cold or heavy when discours¬
ing of perfection, real, living, heaven-born, yet earth-proved,
perfection. One could not be wearisome in handling the
topics of such an argument as that which the character of
Jesus presents, for faith, for goodness, or for hope. Sooner
might one rise on the wings of holy imagination to " heaven
gate " and feel no desire to join
" The angelic host, that stand
In sight of God enthroned,"
than he could trace the lineaments of that excellence of
which the writers of the Gospel have given us glimpses —
glimpses only, yet bright with an imperishable radiance, —
and not be moved to enthusiastic fervor. Oh ! when will the
ministry prove itself Christian, by its delineation of Jesus
Christ ?
IV. Its right to this epithet may meanwhile be established
by a fourth circumstance —its devotion to the same purposes
which Christ labored to promote. These purposes may be
expressed in two words, the salvation and perfection of man.
His salvation, his deliverance from the tyranny and pollution
of sin ; his perfection, or the harmonious developement and
culture of the powers of his nature. For these ends Jesus
toiled and suffered. From the first to the last scene through
which he passed these were the objects which he kept in
view, and which he sought undaunted by the difficulties and
perils that met him at every step. Think you that he enter¬
tained a purpose that could be embraced by a more narrow
14
beneficence ? Or think you that it was for any personal
end that he lived and died ? We know little indeed of our
blessed Master, if we impute to him any design which
was not subsidiary to that of redeeming and enlightening the
soul. He could not have sought honor ; for his chaplet
was a crown of thorns. He could not have coveted fame ;
for he was condemned to bear the reputation of a malefactor.
He aspired to no political dignities or emoluments ; for he
preserved an unbroken silence on political affairs. He did
not invite disciples to his side by promises of wealth or power;
for he told those who became his followers, that they must
suffer persecution and " be hated of all men for his name's
sake." He held out no inducement of a worldly nature. His
religion was spiritual, and its design was made known from
the first. The angel proclaimed it, when he said, "Thou
shaltcall his name Jesus, for he shall save his people from their
sins." Our Lord disclosed it in the early part of his ministry,
when he commanded his disciples, " Be ye perfect, even as
your Father in heaven is perfect." Such passages as these
indicate, too plainly to be mistaken, tiie two-fold purpose of
his mission, — the recovery of the bad, and the progress of the
good. Does any one still say that he looked at some other
result? At what other, I pray you, that is not identical with
this, or auxiliary to it? Was it "to bring life and immor¬
tality to light," that Jesus trod the path to Calvary? But of
what value would be this revelation, if it did not afford mo¬
tives for abandonment of sin and consecration to virtue?
Did he live and die for the glory of God ? But how can the
glory of God be enhanced, except through the submission
and obedience of his creatures? Brethren, the purpose of
our Lord s mission is written in living letters. You may
read it in the facts of his biography. The sun is not clearer
at unclouded noon, than is the moral design of his teaching
and suffering as it shines through the New Testament.
Now the ministry copies Christ in this respect most closely-
15
The purposes for which its own labors and sufferings, whatever
they may be, are endured, coincide with those which led Jesus
to his death. It burns with desire to effect the salvation of
the sinner and the improvement of tlie righteous. Its objects
are moral and spiritual objects, not such as maybe realized in
this life only, but such as stietch themselves forward into eter¬
nity. Do you ask, for what end the minister is striving in his
prayers with God and in his entreaties with his people ?
See you that man who is sunk in depravity, loathsome even
to the eye of pity ; or his neighbor, who with a more decent
deportment still betrays a heart bound to this world both by
love and by habit? Observe the minister in his addresses to
those men, in his remonstrances, his arguments, his appeals.
He is seeking to bring them to God. He holds himself in
a measure accountable for their character. He rests neither
day nor night in the prosecution of methods by which he
may subdue their obduracy. And now note the result. His
words, that had long fallen like the rain on the flinty rock,
at last sink into their hard hearts. They are moved ; they
are humbled ; they are brought to repentance. Sin has lost
what heaven has gained, and the ministry has proved itseli
not more a blessing to man, than a laborer in the same cause
for which Christ poured out his blood. Again, do you mark
one whose life bespeaks a soul true to its own interests as an
immortal spirit? Observe the minister in his intercourse
with him. What affectionate entreaties to persevere in duty
what encouragement and help in surmounting the difficulties
which lie in the path to perfection. Visit the penitent sinner,
or the triumphant saint, when he makes his bed in death,
and you may hear thanksgivings to God for having sent him
such a counsellor and friend. The ministry may be abused,
perverted, defiled. But its legitimate aims are the moral
rescue and advancement of human beings. The relations
of time change, the things of earth perish, but the soul is
immortal, and in joy or sorrow must it spend its existence as
16
it shall follow or slight the revelations of duty which are
made to it by voices within and voices without itself. The
ministry is raised on this truth as its basis. It was founded
by him who, in the bold figure of the Apostle, is himself its
" corner stone "—"Jesus Christ the righteous," who became
the beginning of this structure of beneficent influences, that
he might show to the world how ardently he desired the
renovation and perfection of man. Let the ministry be faith¬
ful to the design and the spirit of its founder, that it may
be entitled to bear his name.
V. It only remains for us to inquire, by what rules the
ministry governs itself in the prosecution of its high objects,
and the answer to this question will present the last reason
which I shall give for its assuming the name of Christian.
The ministry governs itself by the example of its founder.
The minister takes Jesus Christ as his model, both in his
public and his private life, in his official and his personal char¬
acter. His teaching is fashioned after the pattern which the
Evangelists have permitted us to behold through their trans¬
parent pages. But how can this be, when there are so many
different styles of preaching in the world ? With the greatest
diversity of style, there may yet be a common resemblance
to the same model. John wrote not as Paul wrote; yet who
does not feel in reading their Epistles that they had both
learned of Jesus. Men may however mistake the manner,
as well as the substance, of our Lord's teaching. What can
present — one cannot help asking, at least in his own
thoughts — what can present a more painful contrast to Aw
delivery of truth, than is sometimes exhibited within the
walls of our churches ? Sound and violence, indiscriminate
reproach and coarse threat, extravagance of sentiment and
' o
wilder extravagance in its enunciation—are these things to
be discovered in the history of Jesus ? I cannot imagine two
pictures more unlike, than the " meek and lowly" Messiah,
sitting on the mount near Capernaum, or on the shore of its
17
beautiful lake, and discoursing to the multitude in words
which compel them to acknowledge that his meekness is but
the ornament of his authority, and the modern " speaker,"
as he is not inaptly termed by many persons, whose speech
exhibits neither just thought nor right feeling, but disgusts
those whom it does not frighten, and enslaves them whom it
subdues. Mildness and dignity were the characteristics of
our Master's teaching. He loved the sinner, even while he
called him to repentance. He saw in every servant of evil
a child of God estranged from his heavenly parentage, but not
insensible to the solicitations of parental love. A sympathy
with the indestructible capacities of the soul must be cher¬
ished by him who would show that he understands the
character or life of Jesus.
Still more important is it that Christ should be the model
of personal excellence. Let no one intrude into the sacred
office, who has not been a patient learner of those things
which he will inculcate on others. Shall the instructer
be himself untaught ? or the teacher overthrow his coun¬
sels by his example ? Forbid it, every principle of self-respect,
every emotion of benevolence. Better that idiocy should
enter the pulpit than wickedness. Better, oh ! incalculably
better, that the ministry should cease, than that it should be
a monument of disgrace, weighing down the community with
the burthen of its shame, and filling the hearts of all good
men with grief. But it is not negative excellence that the
minister of Christ should be anxious to maintain. Conse¬
crated as well as clean hands must hold up the ark of the
Lord. Be our teachers of righteousness men who, like
Jesus, shall instruct by example even more than by precept.
Be they those who in the simplicity of their purpose and the
fidelity of their course shall covet a resemblance to him.
Was Christ blameless ? Such let his servants strive to be.
Was Christ superior to every earthborn motive? So let his
3
18
ministers be. Let them reflect his image, even as in him
was seen the reflection of the Divine character.
The ministry, as it has been now described, maintains the
divine mission of Christ, acknowledges his supreme authority,
reverences his perfect excellence, pursues the ends which he
contemplated, and copies the example which he has left.
Such a ministry I denominate Christian. One which did
not bear all these characteristics might possibly deserve the
name. But I desire not to see in our churches a ministry
which does not possess them all. With them all well defined
and sustained, this institution might defy the assaults of un¬
belief, and prejudice, and sin. It was observed in the com¬
mencement of this discourse, that in adopting the changes
which would be forced upon it by the demands of the age it
must not part with its essential character. I may now be
permitted to say that I do not believe any change is required,
except such as shall restore this character from the obscurity
in which it has been involved. Make the ministry thoroughly
Christian, and it will enjoy the respect and confidence of the
people— their full and free support — their admiration and
gratitude. Some persons are alarmed at " the signs of the
times." I see no occasion of fear, except in the possibility of
mistaking the import of these signs. They tell us as plainly
as if it were written in radiant letters on the firmament, that
Christianity must be vindicated and made to triumph by re¬
curring to its original character, and they who are set for its
defence or its advancement must cast off all extraneous influ¬
ences. The people demand consistency ; they will not take
any other proof of sincerity. They are right ; let them not
abate their requisition. Let it be the measure which the
clergy shall apply to themselves.
The ministry which shall be Christian in the respects that
have now passed under our survey will be a sufficient, as it
will be the great, instrument of establishing Christianity in the
19
minds and hearts of men. Neither skepticism nor irreligion
is natural to man ; but ignorance and neglect may make him
a prey to both. False or inadequate instruction may incline
him to the evils from which we are most anxious that he
should be saved. It is the duty of those who occupy the
clerical office to enlighten and to persuade. It should be
their object to bring men to Christ. The Christian world
are asking the execution of this service at their hands. There
is no want of curiosity or desire on the part of the people.
The religious sentiment is continually throwing itself out in
forms which bespeak its restlessness under the oppression
to which it has been condemned, as some plants are known
to grow into unnatural shapes in pursuit of the light without
which they could not live. Now let the world have what it
wants — Christ, " the way, the truth, and the life." Hold up
your Master, ye who would be " accounted as the servants
of Christ " ; hold him up, I say, before your fellow-men. I
say ? Providence says it, in notes that might make angels
start. Hold him up to the faith, the love, and the imitation
of mankind. Go not into the pulpit, go not in the ministry,
seek it not, keep it not, unless you will present in its various
offices Christ " the power of God and the wisdom of God
unto salvation." It is not philosophy, it is not rhetoric, it is
not speculation, with which you must satisfy the souls of
men ; but it is Christ " the bread of life," Christ " the
image of God," Christ " the hope of glory." Oh ! we must
be Christian, fathers and brethren, in this service ; Christian
in our purposes, Christian in our feelings. Christian in our
conversation. Christian in our preaching. Christian on every
day and in every scene of life.
A ministry of a different character has too often arisen to
vex the Lord's heritage—a ministry that might remind one of
the cold scintillations which play across the northern heavens,
or of the parching rays of a tropical sun, or of the unequal fer¬
vors of our own climate, but not of that " great light" which
20
God has set in the firmament of the Christian world, constant
alike in its radiance and its warmth. Worse ministries even
than these there have been, such as have no emblem among
beautiful or honorable things, no similitude but among the
monstrous productions of nature. An infidel ministry, in¬
credible though it seem—France was cursed with it, is cursed
with it. A worldly ministry — the dependencies of Rome
have endured it and groaned under its oppression. A selfish
ministry — England has bewailed its sinecures within her
Establishment. A Platonic ministry, and an Aristotelian
ministry — they flourished for ages within the pale of the
Christian church. A Jewish ministry — it has reigned in
pulpits of the old and the new world. But a Christian min¬
istry — a ministry which would own no teacher but Christ,
and no authority but his, and would cherish and inculcate
no spirit but his, and would meditate no aim, and copy no
example but his — such a ministry — oh ! where has it been
seen in the long interval of seventeen centuries and over the
broad surface of the earth ?
Where has it been seen ? Forgive the injustice of the
question, ye memories of the faithful who once labored in the
heart of Asia, within the fastnesses of the Alps, among the
hills of Scotland, and on the shores of the New England
plantations. Nay, forgive me, ye spirits of the true-hearted
and holy, who in the bosom of every church that has
borne the name of Christian have proved your own right
to wear that name- Rebuke me not, ye servants of the
Lord, who are now in any and in every land redeeming the
pledge which you gave when you set yourselves apart for
this work, — ye heralds of the cross, ye ministers of salvation.
I meant not in the earnestness of my desire for better things
to be unmindful of the reality or of the promise, that are
like visions of heaven to the eye of faith. Frown not on ni®i
my hearers, as if I forgot in whose place I am standing, as if
the Christian ministry under which you have rejoiced in the
21
days of its strength had not become a name and a praise
throughout the land, or as if I knew not that, as there is no
title which he in whose person it has been heard and seen
among you would so much desire that it should have merited,
there is none which it has more carefully honored, or more
faithfully earned, than that of Christian. The Christian min¬
istry— its influences have been felt, God grant they may
long be enjoyed, here. Nor here only, nor here chiefly ;
but on every spot whence rises the sound of worship to the
God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. Wherever may
now be found, wherever in future time shall stand up, the
ministering servants at the altars of our religion, may they be
" accounted " by themselves and by others as " the ministers
of Christ," may their ministry begin and end in him who is
" the same yesterday, today, and forever." Fulfil our prayer,
oh ye truths that subdue the human heart! Fulfil it, oh
ye wants and destinies of man, that shall come up and plead
in his behalf with the consecrated instructers of our race !
Fulfil it, oh ye responsibilities of the sacred office, that shall
throw your giant shadows across the path of negligence,
to turn back the step of folly ! Fulfil it, oh ye teachings
of Providence, that remind us of our duty and quicken us in
its performance 1 Fulfil it, oh thou Spirit of love and holiness,
that wast sent to watch over his church, when Jesus ascended
to the Father ! Amen.
RIGHT HAND OF FELLOWSHIP.*
BY THE REV. THOMAS B. FOX,
of newburyporï, mass.
My Brother,—The solemn prayer hath ascended in your
behalf, you have listened to the serious charge, and you
stand here the pastor of this church — the colleague of one
whom we all honor and love, for whom we all ask the choicest
of Heaven's gifts. It is my part of these interesting services
to give you this right hand, a token of the fellowship of my
brethren and myself. I trust its warm pressure tells you to
your heart, that we sympathise with you. We too have re¬
ceived the "badge of apostleship." We know what strong
emotions, what doubts and anxieties, what solemn anticipa¬
tions of unknown and untried toils fill the heart when it looks
forward to the requisitions of the Christian ministry. And if
the thought, that we have felt as you now feel, will give you
comfort and consolation, cherish it, my brother, for it is the
truth.
But our fellowship will extend beyond the present moment,
and so, therefore, must this expression of it. When in the
solitude of the study you dwell upon " the deep things " of
the Gospel, when you there hold converse with the " mighty
* Rev. Dr Nichols, of ^Portland, Me. wlio delivered the Charge, has, for
reasons which the Society very>ucb regie', declined giving a copy for the
press.
24
dead " and the mighty living, when you strive to sound the
depths and solve the mysteries of the spirit within, when you
seek to be sanctified through the truth, that you may speak
to this people " the things which become sound doctrine,"
and to nourish them with profitable instruction — then, if it
will give strength to the toil-worn mind and animate to
greater diligence, remember we sympathise with you ; for the
same labors and the same studies are ours.
When you stand in this pulpit — to declare the promises
of God's love, to warn the sinful of their danger, to call your
flock to the peace and rest of holiness — if by some your
message is unheeded, be not cast down over-much; for ours
is the same disappointment, and we will mingle our sorrow
with thine. But when thy voice is heard and thou dost
witness the seriousness of conviction stealing over the faces
of thy people — when thou dost start the sluggard tear,
melt the cold heart, and lead the willing penitent to the feet
of Jesus — oh ! then remember, such glorious moments, when
the sword of the spirit, even in the hands of the weak, hath ^
done faithfully its work, sometimes come to us, and we will
rejoice with you in this, the laborer's best reward.
When you go from house to house, always with a word for
your Master — when you bind the broken heart and speak
peace to the troubled — when you break bread in memory
of Christ, introduce innocence and infancy into the family of
God, or wing with solemn prayer the spirit which is passing
away from earth — when you are lifted with the thought,
that, however humble, you are one of the great band of re¬
formers, who are engaged in elevating and perfecting the
soul of man ; in fine, in all the duties and hopes, the trials
and joys incident to the Christian ministry, remember, my
brother, we are tried and straitened, comforted and made
joyful, in all points like as you are, and that our sympathy
and fellowship are yours. And not ours only. The things
of which I speak are dear to those beyond the care of what
25
is merely earthly. The things which are of Christ are also
of eternity. They engage the thoughts of angel and arch¬
angel. They call forth the sympathy of " the spirits of the
just." Ay, more, the martyrs' noble host, the prophets
crowned with light, the apostles' glorious company, and Jesus,
the beloved Son, from the seats of the blessed, behold the
transactions of this hour, and are sympathising with us. Is
this delusion ? You will not wish to dispel it. Is it a fancy?
It is so full of hope and joy that we will indulge in it. But
it is no delusion — no fancy. Hath not the Saviour said,
" Lo 1 I am with you always " ? Is it not written, " Our
fellowship is with the Father, and with his Son Jesus Christ,
— and if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have
fellowship, one with another " ? That light is the light of
truth and holiness, and they who follow it, whether dwelling
in tabernacles of flesh, bowing before the throne of God,
or wandering free spirits through the universe, belong to a
holy communion. In them the Saviour's prayer is answered;
they are all one, as Christ and God are one.
Take then, my brother, once more, this right hand. Take
it as a pledge of our fellowship on earth — take it as a sign
that we welcome you a fellow laborer in the holiest cause —
take it as a faint intimation of that perfect union with all that
is beautiful, pure and true, which we shall all enjoy in heaven,
if we are all faithful unto death.
4
ADDRESS TO THE SOCIETY.
BY THE REV. C. T. THAYER,
OP BEVERIíT, MASS.
It is but appropriate and right, Christian Friends of this
Society, that the hand of congratulation and sympathy,
which has been extended to him who has just been inducted
into the pastoral office, should be proffered also to you. Sin¬
cerely do we congratulate you on the pleasures and prospects
of this occasion. We rejoice most heartily with you, that
when he who has so long shone in this golden candlestick of
the Lord, and in whose light you have felt blest indeed to
walk, in the inscrutable Providence of God was withdrawn
(though we would hope but for a time and in part) from the
active duties of his station, you so soon found and united in
one who was deemed worthy of being associated with your
venerated senior pastor in the ministry among you, and has
consented cheerfully to lay on this altar, for your and your
children's good, the offering of his best powers and affections,
of his faithful, constant, devoted service.
And I feel that I am obeying the impulse of truth as well
as friendship, when I assure you, as I now do, of my full
conviction that the promise he has thus made of devotedness
to your improvement and welfare will be redeemed. Coming
as I do from the midst of those among whom his birth and
early years were cast, and having myself long enjoyed his
28
personal acquaintance and intimacy, I feel it to be due to
him, at the same time that it may be grateful to your own
feelings, for me at this time to say, that if early and uniform
purity and piety, if the ardent and successful pursuit of
knowledge, if attachment to his profession, and diligent
preparation for its sacred labors, may be regarded pledges of
eminence and success, then may you justly anticipate that
the ministry in his hands will not be blamed, will not be dis¬
honored, or fail of promoting extensively the great objects
for which it was instituted.
But the promotion of these objects, it is to be recollected,
does not rest with him alone. It is a work belonging in
part, and in no small part, to each of you. The obligations
connected with the relation of pastor and people are mutual.
The duties thence arising are reciprocal. If he must labor,
so must they. If he must feel for and with them, so are
they bound to feel for and with him. If he is to put forth
his best energies in their behalf, it is at least equally incum¬
bent on them to exert themselves toward the same end. If
he is to aim, in every possible way, at the spread of truth
and virtue among them, they surely are under obligations
not less strong to strive after the attainment of knowledge
and virtue. The whole duty of a people to their minister
may, in truth, be conprised in these two words—zealous
cooperation.
But for what are they thus to cooperate with him ? They
are, that they may obtain and extend in themselves and
others acquaintance with the truth as it is in Jesus. They
are, that they may produce the requisite self-denial, and just
regulation of the desires and affections, the proper discipline
and improvement of the mind and heart and life. They
should, in order to cherish a fervent and exalted piety, for
the cultivation and highest and constant exercise of those
affections of veneration, love, trust, which were formed
to ascend and rest in the Infinite Father, and which are
29
the chief spring of all pure religion. They should, in exciting
and keeping alive an ardent and expanded benevolence,
which shall delight ever in doing good ; a charity also,
which shall be ever ready to cover with her broad mantle, or
at least to view with an eye of kindness and compassion,
the errors, whether of opinion or practice, of our fellow-
christians and fellow-men, and one of the legitimate fruits
of which is, as Lord Bacon has so happily remarked, " that
peace of the church, which distilleth into peace of conscience,
and that turneth the labor of writing and reading controversies
into treatises of mortification and devotion." They should,
in short, cooperate with their minister in advancing to the
utmost that practical religion, which consists in the practice
of all the precepts of religion, in a faithful use of all its
means and ordinances, in leaving no appetite or passion
unrestrained and unregulated, and no faculty unimproved ;
which makes us rejoice to behold and contribute all in our
power to whatever can further the temporal or spiritual wel¬
fare of men ; which prompts us to be true to conscience, to
the Saviour, and to God, in every relation and duty; and
which tends to, or rather is, the greatest holiness and felicity
on earth and in heaven.
What, I would further have you consider, are the modes
in which it becomes a society to cooperate with their pastor?
The minister, especially the young minister, is strength¬
ened and sustained peculiarly by confidence in the entire,
unwavering sympathy of his people ; a sympathy which,
without of course intruding upon his personal rights or
private affairs, includes a generous interest in all that concerns
him, a tender regard for his feelings and reputation, sensibil¬
ity to the difficulties and discouragements under which he
may labor, joy in his usefulness, distinction and happiness.
But the sympathy which, if he feels aright, he will most
prize, will be that arising from sincere, warm, hearty interest
on the part of his people in his professional duties, in the
30
great purposes of his office and religion. With the royal
preacher, he will be ready to exclaim, " My son, if thine heart
be wise," wise to discern and pursue its religious and highest
interests, " my heart shall rejoice, even mine."
To this sympathy with him and with the objects of his
profession, must be added the active exertions of those to
whom he ministers. They must be active, not merely passive,
under his ministrations. They must endeavor to apply as
well as receive his instructions. They must strive after, if
they would attain, any great personal improvement. And
they are not only to labor for their own, but for the Christian
advancement of all within the sphere of their influence.
Heads of families, especially, may and are bound to do
much toward furthering the ends of the pastoral office and of
Christianity. Families are the nurseries of human virtue.
In them piety springs and grows as in its native soil. If
the young, who are there receiving their first and most per¬
manent impressions, are blessed with the counsels and exam¬
ple which it is the sacred duty of their natural guardians to
afford them, they will not fail, in their youth and ever
afterward, of remembering God and keeping his command¬
ments. They will be — to use the beautiful similitude of
scripture — as trees planted by the rivers of water, bringing
forth fruit in their season.
It is, moreover, due to their minister, that his society
should be reasonable in their expectations of service and
benefit from him. I hesitate not to say that this is intimately
connected with the success of his labors. If he is not seen
as frequently as may be desired in their families, they should
reflect that they are yet not forgotten by him —that he may
wear their names ever on his memory and his heart, as the
names of the children of Israel were borne on the breast¬
plate of the priest, for a memorial before the Lord continually.
If there is not equal excellence and power in his public
services, let them bear in mind that the fountain of intellect,
31
no more than any other, is always full and always clear. If
sudden and striking results should not follow on his minis¬
trations, let them consider that it may be far better there
should be patient and sustained exertion, and gradual but
sure progress — that steady and strong, not violent and
turbid, the current flow. If he do not accomplish all which
could be desired, they are to remember there are limits to
time and human eflbrt. Above all are they to remember,
that if he should not effect all they might wish, the fault may
be in their want of interest and diligence, as much as in his.
Such, my Christian friends, is the cooperation in which it
becomes you to engage, in view of the relation on which you
have now entered. We call upon you each most solemnly,
by your obligations to God and to Christ, by the exigencies
and signs of the times, by the pressing wants of the commu¬
nity, by your own spiritual and eternal wants, to perform
this your bounden duty. But while we invite and urge you
to join, in all the respects which have been mentioned, your
efforts with those of the pastor of your choice, we would
not be insensible to the laudable example you have hitherto
manifested. We do not forget how cordially you have
seconded the exertions of him who for so many years
has delighted to spend and be spent in your service, and
whose absence from this solemnity is the occasion of many
fond regrets. For this we thank and honor you, as we do
for the kindness and tender sympathy with which you have
watched over and followed him, and cheered and comforted
him, in his infirmity and trials. We do not forget — on this
spot we could not forget — the name of the lamented Haven ;*
* Nathaniel A. Haven, Jr. Esq. who died June 3d, 1826. Though cut off in
the meridian of life and usefulness, it was not till he had attained uncommon
eminence by his talents, learning, and moral worth. He was among the
earliest and most distinguished friends of Sunday Schools in this country, and
by his own exertions contributed largely to render the one connected with the
South Parish in Portsmouth deservedly regarded as a model for all similar
institutions.
32
a name never to be mentioned but with a sigh for his un¬
timely departure ; a name embalmed among the benefactors
of our race — embalmed in the veneration and love of many
hearts, and bearing with it a noble example, for the talented
and distinguished in every sphere, of devotion to the best
and holiest ends. We would not be unmindful of the interest
in the religious instruction of youth, and the general Christian
fidelity, by which your character as a people has been marked.
But from what has already been done by you, we would
draw exhortation and new incentives to yet greater perse¬
verance and faithfulness. So shall the union now consum¬
mated be—and most fervently do we pray God it maybe—
blessed to the greatest good of you and your children, and
in the bosom of this society immortal souls be continually
training for the society of the just in heaven.
A
SERMON
PREACHED AT THE INSTALLATION OF
AS PASTOR OP THE
CHURCH IN BRATTLE SQUARE, BOSTON,
JUNE 18, 1834.
BY J. G. PALFREY, A. M.,
frofesaor of Biblical Literature in the University of Cambridge.
BOSTON:
NATHAN HALE...14 WATER STREET.
1834.
JOSEPH H. LOW, PRINTER.
At a meeting of the Standing Committee of the " Church in Brattle
Square," holden on Wednesday, the eighteenth day of June,
Voted, That this Committee, in the name and behalf of the Society,
present their thanks to the Rev. Professor Palfkey, for his learned, ap¬
propriate, and interesting Sermon, this day delivered at the Installation
of tne Rev. S. K. Lothrop, and request a copy for the press.
Voted, That this Committee, for the Society, acknowledge the great
satisfaction th^ derived from the instructive and impressive Charge de¬
livered by the Rev. James Walker, and the aftectionate and comprehen¬
sive Discourse of the Rev. Nathaniel L. Frotiungham, in presenting
the Fellowship of the Churches, and that they be requested to furnish a
copy for publication.
Voted, That Messrs. James T. Austin, Nathan Hale, and Thomas P.
Cushing be requested to transmit these votes to the Rev. Gentlemen above
named, and, in case of their compliance, that they be requested to super¬
intend the printing and distributing of the same.
A true copy of record.
Attest, IVERS J. AUSTIN, Proprietors' Clerh.
[Letter from the above Committee to Mr. Palfrey.']
Boston, 18th Juno, 1834.
Rev. and dear Sir,
We are directed by the Standing Committee, acting in behalf
of the Church in Brattle Square, to present you their thanks for the
learned, appropriate, and interesting Sermon this day delivered by you at
the Installation of the Rev. S. K. Lothrop, and to request a copy for
publication. We beg leave to assure you of the personal pleasure we have
in making this communication, and the satisfaction we shall derive by your
permitting us to add this to the many favors for which our Society grate¬
fully acknowledges its obligations.
With great regard and esteem, your sincere friends,
JAMES T. AUSTIN,
(Signed,) NATHAN HALE,
THOMAS P. CUSHING.
Rev. Professor Palfrey.
[Mr. Palfrey's Answer to the above Letter.]
Cambridge, 31st June, 1834.
Gentlemen,
I submit to your disposal the Sermon preached on the late
occasion of strong interest to us all ; and, begging you to accept my thanks
for the gratifying manner in which you have conveyed to me the desire of
your Committee to that effect,
I am. Gentlemen, with high personal regard.
Your friend and servant,
J. G. PALFREY.
To Messrs. J. T. Austin, j
N. Hale, v Committee of the Chtirch in Brattle Square.
T. P. Cushing, j
The Rev. Mr. Walker declined giving a copy of his Charge for pub¬
lication^ for reasons which he informed the Committee had uniformly
induced him, for some years past, when asked to print such performances,
to decline doing it.
SERMON.
2 Corinthians, ii. 16.
WHO IS SUFFICIENT FOR THESE THINGS ?
In making some remarks on the demands and
responsibilities of the office to which this day's
solemnity calls our attention, I would endeavor, my
friends, to avoid a style of exaggerated statement, in
which we may have sometimes known the subject
treated. I have no idea, that the work of the ministry
is a work of peculiar hardship. On the contrary, it
appears to me, among labors destined to be accom¬
plished by an elevated and constant purpose, to be
rather distinguished for the alleviations, encourage¬
ments, pleasures, which attend every step of its
prosecution. I have no idea that it is an undertaking
to be shrunk from, as if failure in it were exceeding¬
ly probable, and exceedingly dangerous. Complete
failure in it is by no means probable, if it be engaged
6
in with the proper spirit ; and, as to its danger, as
often and as far as failure is the actual result, it is
dangerous in the ministry, as it is dangerous in other
walks of important action, or rather of any action. If
it have come to pass not through our negligence, but
our unhappiness, and the uncontrollable force of ad¬
verse circumstances, God knows that it did so, and
he does not hold us accountable for it, as if it had
been our sin. If failure in the endeavors, which in
every sphere of action, and according to the proportion
of our capacities, we owe, and cannot help owing, to
the great cause of God and man, have resulted
through our unfaithfulness, we must not expect to
escape the divine displeasure and its consequences,
because our chosen sphere was not the christian min¬
istry. The powers and privileges with which our
Creator has been pleased to endow us, and not the
place in which we may have employed them, make
the measure of our duty to the world, and our account-
ableness to him ; and, on the great day of sentence,
the lawyer, and the farmer, and the merchant, and
the mechanic, and the mother, wife and daughter,
will all have to shew, as much aS the minister, that
they meant well in their several places, and according
to their several capacities and opportunities, did well.
Paul indeed asks, looking over the extraordinarily
7
wide range of his allotted labors, who is sufficient for
these things ? But he did not mean, who, laboring
in the best use of his own powers, and with those
aids of God's grace which he has promised to his
servants, is sufficient to acquit himself of his task so
as to secure God's approbation. He meant to ask,
who is able to do all, which it is desirable to see
done, of so vast and critical a work. And this is a
question, which Christ's ministers now have constant
occasion to consider. But here appears a reason, not
why any, competently disposed and qualified, should
withhold themselves from the work, but why many
more should take it up. Competently disposed and
qualified, I say ; for I am not arguing, contrary to all
truth, that a man is not responsible for his choice of
a place in life, as well as for his action in it. In
choosing a place in life, we are to have regard to our
personal adaptation to the kind of service it imposes.
Among such as desire God's glory and men's good,
the christian ministry demands the self-consecration
of those, whose minds have a capacity, from original
structure and from discipline, of acting on the minds
of others. Such are the fit agents for its work ; and
such are not to be discouraged from it by the thought,
that to do the whole of what its work contemplates,
is something to which no man and no men are com-
8
petent. Sufficiency, indeed, is not for men. Partial
failure, in any great work, every man will look for,
who is wise ; for we are not almighty, nor all-
knowing, and complete results are for God, who is
so. But partial failure is also partial success ; and
though we are by no means to be content with im¬
perfect successes, so as not constantly to labor to
render them less imperfect, yet, on the other hand,
he who should avoid a place of duty, till he was
satisfied of his sufficiency to do all the service he
could find there to be done, would, if he had any
just notion of the claims which duty makes, be long
in finding his fit place of duty in God's worlds
But if there be inexactness and exaggeration in state¬
ments of this character, which we sometimes hear, it
must be owned that erroneous views on the subject,
of an opposite tenor, are more common. Is it not true,
that the expression of the idea, that the ministry is
a work of that magnitude that a man may question
his sufficiency to undertake it, is apt to be received
with a degree of incredulity, as it would not be re¬
ceived, for instance, if one were speaking of the tasks
of magistracy ? Would it be stating the case too
strongly, to assert the prevalence, to no small extent,
of an impression, that the christian ministry is a place
where inactivity and dulness may be more safely dis-
9
posed oí, than in many other places ? Should 1 be
unauthorized to say, that many a parent thinks, if he
has sent the most unenterprising and incapable of his
educated sons, into the ministry, that he has found for
him his most appropriate post ? I fear that these
statements respecting a sentiment actually prevailing,
would not be too strong ; and I fear more, that for its
degree of currency, the clergy themselves are not free
from responsibility. Partly, among other causes, from
utterly false notions of official prerogative and conse¬
quence, leading to a lax sense of the indispensable-
ness of personal endeavor to the maintainance of a
reputable standing, and partly from a not altogether
unnatural, however blameable, presuming upon the
deference which the religious mind inclines to pay to
the expounders of its faith, the clergy, especially
where they have belonged to an establishment, have
too often, I suppose, indulged themselves in an ineffi¬
ciency, which has helped to give this character to their
office. To speak of the case as it has existed among
ourselves, the Congregational ministry, till a recent
period, were essentially, as respects the purpose of
these remarks, a kind of establishment here ; and I
apprehend it must be owned, that, after the first
century of peculiar excitement, they began to give
evidence of the danger, to which I have referred as
B
10
affecting their situation. In this declining state other
circumstances found them, of a nature to divert their
minds' chief attention from their proper business, and
speed the already growing evil; so that, at least
through the half century, from the beginning of the
political agitations which led to our revolutionary con¬
test, down to the time when a so far most beneficent
controversy began to stir the stagnant pool, I sup¬
pose it must be granted, that, with highly honorable
exceptions, of which we have cause to thank God
that some yet survive among us, the Congregational
clergy were, considering their obligations and advan¬
tages, an exceedingly imbecile class of men. From
the sectaries, whom the demand for more zeal had
raised up in the midst of them, they were in the ha¬
bit of distinguishing themselves, as the learned clergy;
but this was rather a traditional than a well-founded
actual distinction, nor was it by any means so clear,
that they excelled the sectaries in learning, as that
the latter excelled them in devotion to the practical
labors of a minister's proper work, and in the success¬
ful study of arts to address the mind ; so that finally
there grew up a state of feeling in respect to them,
not yet departed, which, had it expressed itself
frankly, would have often led the observing layman
to address his pastor in some such terms, as these.
11
' I sometimes hear you,' he would say, ' ask in the
desk, referring to your office, who is sufficient for these
things ? If you will have a candid answer, it shall be,
that I conceive almost any body, well schooled, is
sufficient for them. The pressing business of which
you speak, as you discharge it, seems mainly to con¬
sist in repeating, week by week, a many times told
tale, without so much of novelty as would be found
in the natural expression of successively revived con¬
victions of its importance. Your mind is not in ener¬
getic action, like that of others about us, who had
early advantages like yours, and who are now in
pursuit of objects, apparently in their own nature less
exciting. You do not even subject it to very much
of the culture which books afford. I do not find that
you habitually feed it with much more nourishing ali¬
ment of this sort, than is to be found in occasional
sermons and religious magazines. 1 see, in your daily
engagements, no very strenuous application of your
powers. You are a courted companion at rich men's
feasts ; and, in other circles, you are an agreeable and
not imprudent circulator of the village news. As to
your private example, you are a harmless, but a timid,
unenterprising man ; and if other great objects besides
religion, had to be helped on by such as you, 1 am not
sure that they would prosper better. You do not take
12
much lead in forming public sentiment, and directing
moral action, in your neighborhood. You are exceed-
ly patient of many sorts of error, particularly if it be
favored in high quarters. If it be not so, point to
some impression which you have made on the im¬
pressible mass around you. Show some fruit of those
labors, in a prominent sphere, which, if this descrip¬
tion be not correct, have been employing you. Who
is sufficient for the things which you do ? I am
almost tempted rather ta ask, who is not sufficient.'
I may seem to you to have represented strongly,
my hearers, impressions entertained in some quarters
respecting the christian ministry. If so, I will only
ask you to make from the representation such abate¬
ment as you may see cause for making, and then
reply, whether views, having some similarity to what
have been described, do not to some extent prevail.
And now let us turn from the ministry, as, in its ac¬
tual exercise, any may have supposed that they had
witnessed it to be, to the ministry, as the reasons
of the case demand of every conscientious man that
he should make it, to see whether or not it is an
office, which finds scope for the best powers, and offers
attractions to the loftiest ambition.
I am at a loss how to approach my subject, in such
a diversity of aspects of strong interest does it spread
13
itself out before me. But let us glance, first, at the
action of the minister's mind on other individual
minds, as seen in the speedy production of beneficent
results. In his charge, there are young people.
The soul of every one of them is an aggregation of
those capacities and sensibilities, which working out
their effects, have made up, and are to make up, all
that is most blessed and most fearful in human des¬
tiny. Every one of them, should God spare him
here long enough, (and if otherwise, the alternative
is but of the more urgent interest,) is to be, in his
degree, a happy, useful, and honored, or a worthless,
despised, wretched man, according as the love of
duty, or devotion to base objects shall come to reign
in his heart. There are aged people. Their age
will be a season of miserable vacancy, hopelessness,
and discontent, or else all inward cheerfulness and
peace, and their approaching departure will be a
reluctant surrender of what, little as it satisfied them,
was all they had learned to prize, or else a quiet
return of the spirit to its father's home, according to
the discipline to which their spirits are even now
subjected. There are prosperous people. Their
prosperity is all hollowness, it utters its loud hourly
contradiction to the name by which it is called, unless
the mind have had that culture, which gives to outward
14
advantages a title to the name. There are afflicted
people. Affliction is merely torture to the undevout
soul ; to him who has learned of Jesus, there comes
along with it a peace of God, which passeth the inex¬
perienced understanding. There are parents. With
the degree of wisdom and faithfulness, with which
now they shall be prompted to execute their tmst,
is most intimately connected the character, both
for worthiness and enjoyment, of the lives which they
cherish, as they do their own. I do not go on with
the enumeration. I do not undertake to name many,
even of the most apparent forms, under which the
varieties of human experience might be found to range
themselves. But there is no man, of all the human
mass around us, the record of whose inward life, if it
could be written out at length, would not touch us
more, with its complexities and its contrasts of joy
and sorrow, than all that we have read most moving
in real or fictitious history. And the one thing
which is to be looked to, to determine in each case
the momentous issue presented by the earthly life, is
the presence or the absence of the faith of Jesus in its
power. Should the blessings of this faith, then, be
communicated in their fulness, through a minister's
agency, to a single mind, I submit, whether, the hap¬
piness of a single human creature being a substantial
15
and complicated result, a great action would not have
been done, a vast benefit been conferred. But there
are many individuals comprehended in each of these
classes, within a minister's sphere of agency, and
there are many more classes than I have specified.
I am not implying that whatever of this all-important
direction and impulse, they find any where, is to be
derived from their minister. Far from it. But still
he has seriously to ask himself, whether it is not, in
great part, his own fault, when, if so disposed, or if
not resolutely so disposed, they do not owe something
of it to his endeavors. Week by week he has the
ear of all, while other cares are laid aside, to give
him the better opportunity to occupy their minds.
Many come to him, craving supply for the wants of
their spirits ; many, if he have not been greatly faulty
or unfortunate, disposed by the force of personal at¬
tachment, to a favorable reception of what he may
address to them ; most, inclined to listen with atten¬
tion and candor, from respect for the place and his
office. What a singular, what a precious opportunity,
for the formal exposition of principles of sentiment
and conduct, which he knows to be always in season,
or to have, from peculiar occasions which arise, any
peculiar applicability and worth. Also, he has access
to the people of his charge, such as others have not.
16
on those uncommon occasions, when their minds arc
most open, and their hearts are most tender ; and
then, and at other times, there are many, who are
more than willing to receive whatever he may reason¬
ably or affectingly say, in the way of counsel, of
sympathy, of encouragement, even of remonstrance.
Thus circumstanced, shall a minister, looking at anj
one of his people, not see occasion to say, that in his
relation to that individual, he has a great work in
hand ? And shall any one of the people, looking at
their minister, not find cause to own, that they have
trusted him with a great power, and that, if he is
using it well, they have in him a great benefactor ?
God forbid, my friends, that w^e should not rate high
every worthy employment of the faculties, especially
every service rendered by man to man. All right
application of the mind is admirable. All benevolent
application of it, especially so. But, while I am
grateful to him who has been the divine instrument
in raising me or mine from sickness, or who defends
our liberties and property in the administration of the
law, shall I not allow that my minister too has been
doing something which concerns me nearly, if, faith¬
ful in his lot, I owe to him any thing of tvhat I have
enjoyed in life's relations and my own more intimate
consciousness ; if he has done any thing towards
17
making my parent a good parent, my child a good
child, my neighbor a good neighbor; if his influ¬
ence has availed aught towards fulfilling my best
wishes for those dear to me as the light that visits
my eyes, as the current that throbs through my heart ;
if I owe to him any thing of the clearness and
firmness of my faith, any supports and guides of
my patient continuance in well-doing, any thing
of my simplicity in purpose, and courage and confi¬
dence in action, of the meekness and humility which
escape for me so many snares, and quiet for me so
many tumults of spirit, any of the well-merited
praise of men, any of the far more coveted praise of
God ? Did I commit a light charge to him whom
I invited to attempt for me something of this nature ?
If his endeavor has had any success, shall I say that
he has well accomplished a little business, and enti¬
tled himself to a little gratitude at my hands ? And
if he has done something of this nature for many
others as well as for myself, shall I give place to the
idea, that he might otherwise have been employed in
operations more respectable, accomplishing results of
some more considerable kind, and winning for him¬
self truer honor ?
No, my hearers, I make no disparaging compari¬
sons between this and other callings, but sure I am
c
18
you will agree with me, that he who has done some¬
thing of this sort has not been engaged in an ignoble
service, and that he, who, in the place of which we
speak, has not endeavored something of it, challenges
your contempt, not for his calling, but for his charac¬
ter. But, secondly, let us observe what is the
instrument of a minister's proper action, that we may
see whether there is any possible influence of his on
the character of society, and the course of events
which make up the world's history, as well as upon
the fortunes of that invisible world which is enclosed
in every human bosom. That instrument is religious
truth ; in other words, moral truth in its highest
department, and standing on its highest evidence.
And moral truth is no other than the great instrument
of those conquests, the benefit and the fame of which
are to last. By his office, I repeat it, that is, by the
facilities of his office, the minister is one of those who
are to wield the power, which at length has made
itself recognised as the divinely appointed superin¬
tendent of human concerns. Time was, in the low¬
est state of civilization which letters record, when
physical qualities were accounted the elements of
power, and claimed for themselves an estimation ac¬
cordingly. The robust Entellus, the swiftfooted
Achilles, were the highest specimens of human nature
19
of those ages. In intellectual distinctions, as soci¬
ety advanced, next were sought the signatures of
greatness; but already we have gone far in a transi¬
tion to the juster view, that moral power is the
endowment the noblest for its possessor, and the most
efficient in the production of memorable results;
the self-same power which it belongs peculiarly to the
minister to exert and to create. It is his, then, accord¬
ing to the proportion of his abilities, to labor, in these
more auspicious modem times, in that great work in
which the sages of all time, the men whom of all
men we most venerate, have labored, the investi¬
gation and establishment of truth suited to affect
human character and condition, and the application
of it to the production of those results, which, faith¬
fully applied, it is omnipotent to produce. He,
precisely like them, is to think and write for the
honor and spread of truth, and the advancement of
human nature. He may be able to do it with far less
power than those great lights of the ages. But we
are now speaking of the capacities of the vocation,
not of the capacities of the man ; and if what we
have been affirming here is just, the powers, which
should match the highest that human annals record,
would find ample, and free, and unoccupied range
for like exercise, in this field. Shall I add that the
20
christian minister, according to the custom of his
office, has a great practical advantage, in bringing
truth to bear directly on the mind, over those who have
but stored up their weighty thoughts in books ? All
human experience has taught the lesson, that there is
no vehicle of thought which has a power of penetra¬
tion like the human voice ; and accordingly this is
the way, in which men have always sought to address
each other on occasions of high personal concern. So
too the christian minister addresses those, whom he
would attract to the reception of truth, and the prac¬
tice of goodness. He does not write them a letter, if
I may so speak, to be coldly read in a listless solitude ;
for a book is but its author's communication by letter
to its reader's mind ; but he goes and looks them in
the face, and demands entrance into their hearts, in
tones to which, if they knock hard enough, the heart
is not so made as to refuse admission. He may do
his errand unskilfully, but, if to little purpose, it will
not be because his message is not a sublime one, and
his opportunity all that heart can desire.
If these things be so, then, in respect even to real
power, and consequence, and control over earthly
events, (for here I am speaking of no more,) I would
ask, whether it is possible to rank the sacred office,
exercised as it may be, (and if not so exercised it is
21
not the fault of the office,) elsewhere than among
the highest which man sustains. If, especially in
this country and age, whatever thing the mass of a
community can be strongly persuaded should he done,
we may be sure will be done, and if the principles
which are to determine that choice, and the mental
habits and tastes which are to make it, are precise¬
ly the matters of the minister's professional cogni¬
zance, is he the man who is professionally in no con¬
dition to make the country, and the age, and posterity,
his debtor? I know I shall be told that it does not
belong to him to make any showy exhibitions of
power, thus manifesting his consequence to his own
view and that of others ; and herein is a sophism
involving much of the current error on the subject.
It is so, no doubt. The majesty of the state does
not invest his person. He cannot arrest a legal pro¬
vision, nor negotiate a treaty. He cannot sign a
pardon, nor a death warrant, nor so much as a com¬
mission. His uttered will is not instantly decisive of
some large interest, nor, when he moves the minds
of others the most vehemently, does he move them
to any present and conspicuous result. Whether
or not there is some sufficient compensation for this
want of immediate testimony and encouragement to
his efforts, we may see under the next head. Mean-
22
while, I have something further so say upon]| the
statement, as far as it has gone. The judge, upon
the bench, when the august will of the law is declar¬
ing itself through his lips, and its ready satellites are
waiting round him, is the object of the crowd's most
admiring wonder; and the statesman, while he speaks
the mighty words, that solve some ill-boding per¬
plexity, and end some high debate. But I do not
know that the scene even of highest triumph to
either, is the public scene, or whether it is not anoth¬
er, where the teacher of religion is at home as much
as they. I am apt to think that the mere sense of
power is not always, if generally, so intense and
glorious with the judge, when the insignia of domin¬
ion are around him, and the mute veneration of the
throng is more expressive than would be their most
boisterous applause, as when in his solitary chamber,
by his late or his early lamp, he has found his way,
in strong meditation, to the principle, where he may
rest what he is going to announce on a basis of ever¬
lasting justice, ascertaining that the simple right is
done in the case between man and man, and showing
others the way to do the like right after him; and I
own I envy not the political champion nearly so much
the consciousness of that moment, when his overpow¬
ering accents are rolling on the captivated ear, as
23
when in his closet, unwitnessed, unpraised, unmissed,
unthought of, he has just thought out the glowing,
burning, all radiant illustration, which he feels, when
brought forth in its place, is to make the truth tri¬
umphant, the people prosperous, and the rulers wise.
I doubt not, my friends, that if such great men were
to confide to us their experience, we should learn
that their profoundest consciousness of power had
been in scenes and moments, when it may equally
belong to those, who may not exert it in the same
conspicuous places, nor in the same present and mani¬
fest achievements, that, at other times, they do. The
wise and good man, (for all such make one brother¬
hood, and it is folly to speak of their different forms
of labor, as marking any thing but various subdivisions
under the same class,) has, so far, equal delight, and
equal consciousness of a lofty vocation, when he
conceives a thought which he feels is to work mightily
for good, whether he is directly to deliver it from a
tribunal or in a hall of council, to write it on the
parchments of a public office, to send it forth in a
book, or ascend with it the pulpit stairs. And he,
who is capable of feeling, and has been privileged to
attain, this enjoyment, who is assured that under
the care of providence, which does not suffer such
things to be lost, something that he has righteously
24
and wisely thought and written or said, is sooner or
later to prosper in the thing wheremito he sent it, is
not likely to be much annoyed by the thought, if so
it should be, that when the developement shall come,
there will be no crowd looking on to recognize and
applaud the doer.
But I must tear myself away from this part of my
subject. I will only suggest the question, whether,
partial as history yet is, by force of false ancient
models, to the selection of the worst materials, and
accordingly holding up, through all its chapters, a
perpetual libel on human nature, moral exploits are
not henceforward, in the improved state of intelli¬
gence, to be a way to attract something more of her
notice ; whether it is not likely, that there will come
some age, which, looking back upon ours, for instance,
will rate as highly the campaigns of Wilberforce as
the campaigns of Wellington, holding the deliverance
of some races by the high action of a mind under the
most unequivocal impulses, to be of as much account
as the demolition, for however good cause, of some
armies? And, my hearers, look at the lessons which
history reads us of the effects which religion has
wrought as an engine or opponent of the state ; for
in that connexion history does consent to take notice
of its agency ; and then say, whether it can possibly
25
be regarded as a sluggish element in society. Great
things doubtless has it wrought, great things relating
to fortunes of empires, even when divested of its dis¬
tinctive and most commanding power by the errors
which were blended with it, and dissociated from its
natural alliance with all that is soundest in human
reason, and most quickening to human hearts. Great
things, again, have been done by the power of the na¬
tive moral sense, unaided by the advantages which re¬
vealed religion offers for its confirmation and guidance.
What will not be done, of all which we should most
desire to see done, when these powers shall come to
act vigorously and extensively in concert, as God
meant they should act ? Has the world no deep stake,
then, in his labors, whose business is to woo them so
to act, and guide them while so actingAnd if,
with enlightened views, and that devoted purpose
which a due sense of the magnificence of their task
would awaken, a body of men, so numerous as the
christian clergy, were employed, each in his own
sphere, in engaging, maintaining, and directing them in
such joint operation, through the agency of all whom
each minister could directly or remotely influence,
how would such a company move on the world.
How little room would they be leaving for the ques¬
tion, whether or not they had undertaken a work, for
D
26
which the highest powers were more than sufficient,
or the highest honor more than deserved.
I have dwelt the longer on these considerations,
because they have the advantage of bringing well-
understood human experience, in a greater or less
degree, to the aid of the argument I am maintaining.
In other respects, they admit no favorable compari¬
son with that, which I am last to suggest, and in
which the distinctive dignity of the sacred office is
brought before the view. ' You paint slowly and
carefully,' said some one to a great master of art.
' I do,' he replied, ' for I am making a work for
immortality.' What he said inexactly, the christian
minister may say in the most accurately literal lan¬
guage, of every line and color which he spreads on
the imperishable canvass of a human soul. To con¬
ceive of all that is comprehended in this truth, is an
exercise for faith, no doubt. But the whole of it
consists of the simplest and most unquestionable
inferences, from a faith held by every one, who
considers the christian ministry worth supporting.
I know, my hearers, that all honest action is happy
action ; and the more happy, the more successful it
has been in accomplishing the object at which it
aimed. But doubtless, by force of all the reasons of
the case, the more permanent the interests which
27
süch at liou is designed to touch, the inoic quickening
and happy it may be expected to he found. I know,
that, in an important sense, every worthy result at¬
tained has a right to be called a permanent result,
because it cannot fail to have some enduring relations
to human character. But still it must be owned,
that it is only indirectly, that many forms of labor,
even in the liberal pursuits of life, contemplate effects
that arc to endure ; and herein, in this transitoriness
of what they propose to win, is to be acknowledged,
so far, an essential meanness, (unsatisfactorincss,
at least,) in such pursuits, from which the pursuits
of the christian ministry arc altogether exempt.
VVhcn the art of healing has done its blessed work,
and a useful life is saved, and anxious friends made
happy, the object of their gratitude still feels that he
lias to say, ' I have but been doing, under God, a
work which must soon be undone. The body, to
which I ministered, lives and is strong again. But I
have but been the divine instrument to put off its
doom. Before long, the sentence will certainly go
forth, which neither I nor any man will have power
to change.' The minister of the law, when he has
the most faithfully discharged his function for my
benefit, is reminded that he has but lieen protecting
lor me a property, which presently I shall have to sur-
28
render again, or a liberty, which, had he failed, death,
the great emancipator, would not have been long in
bringing. The merchant accumulates, perceiving, if
he is wise, that he has no groimd for confident ex¬
pectation that his wealth is to be eventually even a
short-lived good to them who are next to receive it
from his hands, as well as that, in all the common
chances of the future, it will not descend far in the
line in which he shall bequeath it ; and the states¬
man's best labors are after all for the prosperity of
empires, which, no more than the material monuments
of brass and stone they raise to their benefactor's
glory, are to have any continued existence beyond the
present world. Is not the ministry here seen to stand
on a high ground of distinguishing dignity ? The only
work done by the mightiest men, which is to last for¬
ever, is work done upon the human soul ; and pre¬
cisely and exclusively this work is what the ministry
undertakes to do. It has no ultimate objects among
things which perish. In every case where it has well
done its office, it has reared, I repeat it, an everlast¬
ing trophy. And here is the thousand-fold compen¬
sation, of which I spoke, for one alleged deficiency
in the triumphs which a minister's labors may achieve.
If they are not immediate and conspicuous, like some
others, they are abiding, as none of a different sort
29
are, and they are destined forever to grow. Friends,
is it true that the permanence of effects contemplated
is one of the standards, by which we should estimate
the relative consideration of labors for securing them ;
and shall we not own that the ministry makes some
claim for effective labors ? Brethren in the ministry,
have we felt all the greatness of our vocation, as it is
revealed to us by the thought, that the work we may
have well done is to stand and be built upon higher
and higher forever, till the structure, of which, under
God, we have laid the foundation, is lofty enough to
fatigue an angel's ken ? We do not know what the
human soul, in its vast future self-evolutions, is to
become ; but we know, that it is never to lose its
present consciousness, and that the elements of its
ever growing greatness are to be the self-same which
here have been put together, and watched over in
their immaturity. And, besides quickening our zeal
on the ground of high obligation so exhibited, has
this consideration interested our affections in our work
and its objects, to the degree it should have done ?
What I now mean is, that when I make an exertion
or sacrifice for my child or for my friend, I am excit¬
ed by the thought, among others, that I am thereby
making myself the dearer to him ; that I am es¬
tablishing another claim on his good-will, while I
30
manliest, and at the same time confirm, my own
friendly sentiments ; and that our future intercourse
together will be, on this aecount, so rnueh the more
intimate, aifeetionate, confiding, and happy, as long
as continued life shall allow to us each others' friend¬
ship. Shall the minister not be animated by the
thought, that they, whose spiritual interests he may
have served, will still gratefully own him for their
friend in their eternal life, and feel and acknowledge
only more and more gratefully the worth of the kind¬
ness he had done them, as the preeiousness of the
spiritual enjoyments, he had aided them to choose and
love, are more and more revealed to their experience
through the successive stages of their endless pro¬
gress ? Oh what a prize to toil for, to have con¬
stantly recalled to our minds, in the blessed society
of the future world, the memory of what we had
worthily done for others in this, witnessing per¬
petually its fruits in the sublime and ever-spreading
happiness, which God had made us his instruments
to communicate.
I make an end of such reflections, because I know
not where I should find one, and I have occupied
my share of your time. You, dear Sir, understand,
for you have tasted, the enjoyments, which attend on
the exercise of this ministry. Happier auspices than
31
those, under which you are now resuming it, no man
need, no reasonable man could, desire. I know your
people better than I did, when, sixteen years ago
yesterday, I was commissioned to their service, by
prayer and the laying on of the hands of the presbyte¬
ry ; and I know that the best services you will render
them will be no better than their desert, and that
the lines of your service, falling among them, have
indeed fallen to you in pleasant places. Wise coun¬
sels wait here to be blended with yours ; a generous
encouragement to animate your labors ; those fervent
prayers of righteous men, which avail much, to ascend
with yours, and in your behalf. You are to find here
no small disposition or ability to do whatever you
shall be able to shew ought to be done. You are to
have access to minds which hold close communion
with the public mind, and are able to take the truth
which you shall recommend to their acceptance, and
send it forth widely on its beneficent way. You are
welcomed to the confidence of pious spirits, old and
young, to which it will be all happiness to minister ;
you are greeted, as their welcome associate and
guide, by a company of children, rearing up in the
nurture and admonition of the Lord, and rising around
you to be a wall of fire on your right hand and
your left ; by a band of youth who understand one
32
another, who sympathize in high common objects,
and are not unused to work together for the conunon
good. What this people expect from their minister,
is, that he shall care for their souls ; the expectation
which, I am persuaded, you most desire to find and
to satisfy. May the Father of lights and of mercies
prosper you, my brother, in the hopeful work you are
undertaking, strengthen your hands, put wisdom in
your mind, and a pure and lofty purpose in your
heart, and fulfil for your usefulness and honor the
warmest wishes which a christian affection could
inspire.
Brethren of this beloved congregation, I am forbid¬
den, in expressing my good wishes for you, to advert
to circumstances of personal relation. This day is
not mine. Its interest all belongs to another. I may
not indulge myself in speaking of reasons, which
make my interest in your happy prospects a feeling
deeper in my heart, than any other feeling but those
due to objects of the closest personal concern. May
the living God bless you, my good friends ; you and
yours ; each and all ; with the blessings of time, and
of preparation for eternity. May the best hopes of
this day be, through his own peculiar grace, fully
answered, and you and your minister be made each
other's joy and bright crown of rejoicing in the day
of the Lord Jesus.
FELLOWSHIP OF THE CHURCHES.
BY THE REV. MR. FROTHINGHAM, OF BOSTON.
I am directed, Sir, by the churches assembled
here, to extend to you the right hand of their fellow¬
ship. It is the hand of their own special fellowship,
for from the church at large you have received it
already. I do not ask you, then, to accept it,—as if
it were a new thing,—but place it confidently in
yours, as a sign of closer union, in a fraternity that
had been acknowledged before. We welcome you
to a more intimate participation of our religious cares ;
and we feel assured that we shall be met on your
part by the same cordial sympathies that we bring.
For you do not come to us with a stranger's face,
and you do not bear with you a stranger's heart.
You know us, and are known of us. We cannot
salute you in the usual way of almost compassionate
encouragement, as one who is approaching the work
of an untried duty, or entering into the society of
untried friends. We are too late to bid you welcome
into the ministry of the great word. We are too
E
34
late to congratulate you,—if one may be allowed to
speak so,—on your accession to an office, which can
never permit a life of ease, however a vulgar opinion
may show a growing boldness to consider it so,—not a
life of ease, whatever else it may be. But we do wel¬
come you to a church, that is not without a peculiar
interest for your own feelings, while it is connected
by many sacred associations with our own. We will
congratulate you, that you are henceforth to fulfil your
ministry among the scenes of your early attachments ;
in a community, that, if it requires much, rewards
well,—that holds the servants of its altars in love and
honor, and knows as well perhaps as any on earth
both how to appreciate and how to excuse. We will
congratulate you, that you have come here to be a
successor to so many ready and considerate regards,
to be a sharer with us and our brethren of privileges
that are nowhere surpassed.
We will consult with you. We will cooperate
with you. We will bring what aid we can to you,
when you need aid. We will rejoice with you in
your satisfactions. We will grieve with you, if you
are put to disappointment and distress. This is the
fellowship, that we offer, and that we expect.
Fellowship Î The word is a monitory, as well as
a brotherly one. If it is expressive of benevolent
35
affections, it implies something also of weakness and
necessity. We unite that we may be befriended,
comforted and strengthened. We should not desire
alliance, if we felt sufficient of ourselves. But we
are aware of having undertaken a wide and trying
labor, and we therefore seek for associates;—we
require fellow helpers ; we ask for encouragement in
the looks, the words, the different gifts, and the sus¬
taining deeds of one another.
Fellowship! Important as it is, precious as it is,
it must yet share in the precariousness and the perils
of our other blessings. How insufficient and illusive
will it be found, if we rely upon it too dependently !
How dangerous, if we draw its delicate bonds into
an oppressive closeness ! How sorrowful, in many
of its broken recollections, after they who were in¬
cluded in it have dropped away ! But we will not
so rely upon it ; and we will not so strain upon it ;
and we will, by God's grace, so use this connexion
and amity, that there shall be at least nothing to
reproach us, when its ties may be loosened or its
companions depart.
We stand together for mutual assistances. But
how much there is in thought and life, that does not
admit of being mutual ;—how much, in which no
mortal power can assist ! The soul must dwell often
36
alone, and in some respects always alone. It has
sorrows which it cannot communicate. It has ex¬
ultations that it cannot express. It has responsi¬
bilities, in which it lives apart, and by which it must
be judged apart. The stranger cannot enter into
them, and the whole world is a stranger. Its con¬
ferences must be with itself. Its advices and its
supports can come only from an invisible source.
I have even feared, that we are getting to lean too
much on what is abroad. We live in an age of com¬
binations, when nothing seems to be thought strong,
unless it intricates itself with other things, that are
to make it so ;—and God's work appears little, unless
a great deal of man's work is with it ;—and some
large apparatus is taken for the promise, if not for the
evidence, of a large effect;—and a power applied
from without is apt ,to be put into the place and
honors of that only real power, which must grow and
be inspired from within. And I have feared, lest we
might become too fond to be wise, and too ambitious
to be safe, of a mere show of strength, which is so
much the less likely to be substantial, as it is the
most easily produced, and the most proudly displayed.
I may mistake in this ; and the apprehended evil
may be only an imagination of my own, or at worst
a passing accident of the time. But there is no room
37
for error in any thoughtful mind on the general prin¬
ciple,—that we must learn to seek our resources
more in ourselves and from above, and less and less
on what the friendly may wish, or the ingenious
may devise, or the serviceable can execute. We are
to do and suffer, for the most part, without earthly
witnesses or aids.
Fellowship! It is a blessed advantage. We might
be miserable without it. But far more miserable is
it, to be able to contribute nothing to it from our own
store, or to have laid up no other resource, amidst
the transientness of time and beyond the power of
fate.
What are the feeble connexions of any professional
intercourse, let it be as endearing as it may, compared
with the eternal relations that bind each single heart
to the Sovereign Object of its love and duty and
dread ? We are passing away from a world, where
we would not always abide, so hopelessly imperfect,
and with an anxious task never done. And how
hasty is this passing away of us and of our genera¬
tions ! The fellowship that is now solemnized, will
presently be an old record, hardly worth being referred
to ; and the right hand, that now represents many,
will leave no one behind, who is giving you with
it his youthful prayers or his fatherly blessing. But
38
if there is any truth in what divine men have spoken,
and dutiful men have believed ;—if our preaching is
not vain, and our faith vain ;—if the record of hope is
not a fraud from the beginning, and if the very pulses
at our wrists do not throb to a splendid falsehood ;—
there is communion elsewhere, a glorious assembly
that shall never be dispersed, a brotherhood with
happy spirits.
APPENDIX.
—«!®©—
(ö:sa(a-asr<^2,
written for the installation, by thomas gray, m. h
SUNG BY THE CHOIR OF BRATTLE STREET SOCIETY.
1 Lord ! bless the rite that gives, this hour
A shepherd to thy flock below,
To preach the Saviour's nam© with power,
And bid salvation's fountains flow.
2 Here may the hardened heart once more
Break its long sleep of sin and doubt ;
Until the smitten rock shall pour
The waters of repentance out.
y Here may the weary, aching breast.
Seek peace from heaven,—oh ! not in vain,—
And the long wand'ring find a rest
Within the Saviour's fold again.
4 The crush'd flower on the fragrant sod
Drinks not in vain the dews of even !
Thus,—here, on earth's bruis'd flowers, O God,
Pour out the freshening dews of heaven.
5 Here may the grateful heart, to Thee
Swell its high praises. Holy One;
Till the wide earth shall bow the knee
Beneath the gospel of thy Son.
40
ORIGINAL, HYMN,
WRITTEN BY THOMAS POWER, ESU
SUNG AT THE INSTALLATION DINNER
1 O Thou! whose blessings kindly flow
The whole creation o'er,
Teach thy frail creatures here below
To worship and adore.
2 For all thy care in other years,
For all thy favors given,
Thy church with humble thanks appears,
And bears its thoughts to Heaven.
3 With reverence let the Saviour's name
Be borne on every tongue ;
While worlds his praises shall proclaim.
In themes that angels sung.
4 Here let the messenger of peace
Declare thy holy will ;
Let truth with brighter ray increase.
And love each bosom fill.
THE SPIRIT OF JESUS.
A
SERMON
rSKACHED AT THE INSTALLATION OF
REV. D. H. BARLOW,
IN BROOKLYN, NEW.YORK, SEPTEMBER 17, 1834,
BT
W. H. FURNESS,
WITH
THE CHARGE, THE RIGHT HAND OF FELLOWSHIP,
AND THE ADDRESS TO THE PEOPLE, &c.
BROOKLYN :
A. SPOONER, PRINTER, 57 FULTON-STREET.
1834.
First Unitarian Church of Brooklyn, J>iew-York,
September 18, 1834.
In Committee,
Resolved, dnanimouslt. That the thanks of this Committee be
respectfully presented to Rev. William H. Furness, for his able and
eloquent Address before this Congregation, on the occasion of the
Installation of the Rev. D. H. Barlow, as Pastor of this Church, and
that a copy be requested for publication.
JOSIAH DOW, Chmman.
À SERMON.
•' My meat is to do the will of him that sent me, and to finish his work."
John iv. 34.
I ABOPT these words upon this occasion because they reveal
to us the spirit of the great Apostle and Witness of Truth.
They show us how he, to whom we look as our model in all
spiritual things, regarded the work in which he was engaged—
a work, which the connexion we have now assembled to
consummate between our brother and this society, is intended
to carry on. As you hope, my friends, to honour and advance
the truth as it in Jesus, you must be filled with the spirit
that was in him.
A little while before our Master uttered these words, hé
was weary, hungry and athirst. His attendants had just
returned from a neighbouring town whither they had gone
to obtain refreshments. During their absence, there came to
the well at which he was seated, a stranger—a woman, and
with a woman, an established teacher of those days would
have thought it unworthy of him to converse ; a foreigner-—
a Samaritan, and the Samaritans, the countrymen of Jesus
looked upon with the most bigoted contempt. The Friend
and Saviour of the world, unswayed by either of these pre-
Á
jüdíces, immediately entered into conversation with héf.
And obviously without any premeditation, but from the naturäl
impulse of an abundant heart, he drew her attention to the
Sublimest truths. She listened with an open and ready
mind. And upon the approach of his disciples, forgetting the
errand that had brought her to the spot, leaving her water-
pot, she ran to call her friends and neighbours. Aftei her
departure, the disciples of Jesus produced the food they had
procured. B ut his hunger had vanished. Of the cravings of
appetite he was no longer conscious. The food which had
been brought lay untouched and unregarded before him. To
the affectionate entreaties of his disciples that he would eat—
I can see him, as with a look and air expressive of the so¬
lemn exhilaration of his mind, he replies, " I have meat to
eat that ye know not of." How truly this was said, (he con¬
duct of his followers showed. For they immediately looked
at each other inquiringly, and asked if it were possible that
some one had brought him aught to eat. He then explained
his meaning in the Avords of the text, " My meat is to do
the will of him that sent me, and to finish his work." He
had just been occupied in communicating the most noble
truths to an awakened and eager spirit. We do not com¬
monly consider distinctly enough hoAv he, of all men, must
have been excited and warmed and filled with a sense of the
beauty and power of the truths that he uttered. Upon the
present occasion his sensibility must have been stirred very
deeply by the sympathy of his listener, by her countenance
revealing the emotions of curiosity and of awe which his
AA'ords were kindling in her bosom. It was this conversation
with the woman, the delight of communicating to a fellow-
being such sublime views of God—this it was that made him
forgetful of all bodily infirmities. This it was that refreshed
and strengthened him, and fatigue, hunger and thirst de¬
parted.
That a simple feeling of the mind should have this power¬
ful and exalting effect, cannot be surprising. Almost every
one knows from his own experience how strong mental im¬
pressions act upon the whole system, producing an uncon¬
sciousness of bodily weakness. The soldier, exhausted by
s
lohg and fatiguing iharches, at the appearance of the eheihj^
and the sound of battle forgets his weariness, and a ne\t?
strength suddenly circulates through his whole frame. Hope?
fear, grief, any intense mental excitement stimulate a man's
whole being, and render him insensible to his most pressing
physical wants. What now was the feeling which exerted
an influence of this kind upon our Saviour ? " His food,^
he said, " was to do the will of Him that sent him. " By
the simple consciousness of doing the will of God, he was
filled, sustained and lifted up above all the importunities of
the flesh. More than the most delicious food to the taste
and the most beautiful sights to the eye, and the sweetest
sounds to the ear, was the simple feeling of doing the Divine
Will, to the heart of Jesus. But fully to appreciate this feel¬
ing we must recollect how he regarded Him by whom he IvaS
sent. To him God was what he had just described Him to
be to the woman of Samaria, ä Spirit, that is, a pure Mind—
the Father, a Being all Love. In doing the Divine Will
then his feeling was, not that he was blindly submitting to
mere power, obeying an arbitrary and omnipotent Sovereign,-
but that he was sympathizing with the Infinite and the
Perfect, carrying out a design of illimitable intelligence and
love. He felt that he was willing and doing a work infinitely
wise and infinitely good. And herein he exulted. It was
not the thought that he was increasing his own influence^
fame or happiness, nor yet was it the consideration of the
salutary effects and consequences of what he was doing, but a
sense of unspeakable wisdom and love filled his whole being
with an exalting peace. This feeling was his food and his
life.
As we venerate this feeling in Jesus, we also, my friends#
may cherish it, yes, and every human being. Let us pausef
for a moment in contemplation of the privilege.
Look at man under some aspects, and he seems the feeblest
and most wretched of beings. His existence, how brief! He
comes into life for a moment, casts a hurried glance around
him and then lies down, and time and the world rush
over the spot where he lies, and no trace of him remains.
How pitilessly do all the changes of nature go on, despite
6
Kií tears and entreaties ! His prosperity is blown away lik^
chaff, and the course of things pauses not to comfort hinii
Some convulsion takes place in the physical world, and
whole generations of the race vanish like insects from the
leaves of summer. When you look at the great objects that
compose the universe, the existence of man seems but an
accident to the magnificent spectacle, only the small dust
that gathers on the balance without causing the slightest
vibration of the beam. Would you have your pity moved
still more deeply, look at man beset by the hideous errors of
his own mind, the trembling victim of his own imagination,
the slave, the shrieking, tortured slave of the fictions of his
own brain. But before you turn away in contempt of human
insignificance, look into the nature of this weak and suffering
creature, and there you discern with awe that which enables
him to mount up to the Infinite and the Perfect, a sense and
apprehension of the Everlasting and the True, by which,
and by which alone, he is able to distinguish the finite and
imperfect nature of all visible things. Yes, this creature of
the dust, this slave of circumstances is able to exult in all
events, in the labours of his own hands as they constitute the
plan and consummate the purpose of Infinite Goodness. He
can find his food, his highest joy in doing God's will, not be¬
cause it conduces to his present well being, or promises a
great reward hereafter ; not for any computable benefits that
may flow therefrom, but simply because he feels that it is an
infinitely wise and perfect will. In a word, he is able to
ascend above the passing show of things visible, and to enter
into the counsels and the joy of the great Originator and the
Unslumbering Preserver—to sympathize with the Everlasting
and the All-good !
This exalted and godlike way of feeling, this sense of the
infinite and divine nature of duty, of the intrinsic and trans¬
cendant beauty of well-doing was cherished in the bosom and
expressed in the life of Jesus. It was in the consciousness
of this feeling that he found an all sustaining power, his food
and his joy. As we are able to recognise and reverence
this spirit in him, we also, as I have said, may cherish it-
Nay, we must. It is indispensable to the success of every
7
ípiñtual work. Have we any great truth to maintain and
glorify, any spiritual object that we wish to accomplish, we
must find our happiest reward in our labour. It must have
a charm and attraction for us, independently of any of its
results to ourselves or to others.
It is because this spirit is so little understood and cherished,
that we so seldom witness any bright and impressive exhi¬
bitions of human virtue. In its ordinary manifestations^
how often are we compelled to feel that there is something
wanting. We are dissatisfied with ourselves, and haunted
with a secret suspicion of our best actions. Some conscious¬
ness of a selfish bias mingles with almost every thing we do,
or we want a lively conviction that we are actuated by the
right impulse. It is quite plain that the great body of men
are seldom moved by any thing higher than a principle of
conformity to the ways of the world. They cultivate what
they call goodness, because it is very decent and respectable,
and to do otherwise would be to incur dislike and contempt.
And so their virtue is at best but an outward garment, put
on for an occasion, and amounting to nothing more than a
freedom from blame. They go just far enough to keep them¬
selves well with the world, but no farther. Characters of
this description, blown about by the breath of man, are not
specimens of real goodness. They are shadows only. There
is no spiritual life in them.
Others again, and almost all men occasionally do good
upon calculation, merely from a consideration of the advan¬
tages personal and public, which may result. It is not the
beauty, but the policy of holiness that arrests their notice,
and commands their exertions. These are they who do what
is right not from love, but for example's sake, seeing no
brighter charm, nor any greater use in being good than that
it promotes the good order of society—society, that associates
for the protection of property. Virtue is with them a cold
matter of the understanding, a mere mechanical contrivance,
a somewhat enlarged and refined self-interest, but still self-
interest. And they distrust every generous impulse, and
have no faith in any holy aspiration, unless it immediately
connects itself with some practical purpose. Hence, in every
8
spiritual aspect, individuals oí this class are tame and sta«
tionary. There is no warmth, no vigorous and unceasing
pressing onward after perfection. They have never been
enamoured with goodness. It approves itself to their minds
for its many admirable uses : but it has never touched their
hearts and set them all in a glow.
Even those who profess religion, and seriously aim to
bring religious considerations to act upon their characters,
do not seek their great object with the true feeling. They
are always dwelling upon the recompense of reward. It is
not virtue, but happiness ; not holiness, but heaven that
attracts and absorbs their regards. They are ever sending
their imaginations onward into the world beyond the grave,
and the ravishing idea is that there, if they can only once get
to heaven, they shall be safe and at ease. They are led
along by the vague dream of a state of endless and im-
qualifíed bliss, where the fear of untold sufferings shall never
more reach them. Their springs of spiritual action, are their
hopes and fears—selfish hopes and slavish fears. It is not
with the essential and unutterable beauty of goodness that
they identify all that they most ardently desire. But they
are captivated and swayed by the expectation of some great
compensation for the exceeding wearisomeness of God's ser¬
vice, and their feeling seems to be that if it were not for a
large reward hereafter to be received, the practice of righto-
ousness would be very dull and disagreeable, not to be
thought of in comparison with the pleasures of a worldly
life. It is the melancholy defect of nearly all the prevalent
forms of religion, that they countenance and encourage men
in regarding pure, spiritual goodness, as only a means
attaining some future and far greater good, as if there were
in this whole universe of God any greater good, any good that
does not sink into insignificance in comparison with the
simple consciousness of doing well ! Accordingly, even the
religiously disposed are blind to the true nature of the service
in which they prefer to engage, and in which they do engage
with no small show of being in earnest. Thus blind, they
make no spiritual progress. Various duties are discharged,
but languidly and with no discrimination, but with a painful
§
feeling of restraint. iXo hearty pleasure is taken in well-*
doing. There is no alacrity, no enthusiasm.
Are not these things so? Do I exaggerate? Is not the
good that men do for the most part, either a mere tribute to
the opinion of the world, or the result of a cool calculation
of interest, or a service irksomely performed from no motive
but the hope of a reward ? When we examine ourselves, are
we not forced to confess that under one or another of these
heads, nearly all that is good in us, must needs be classed ?
Is the goodness that we commonly meet with now-a-days,
any thing more than a matter of temperament, or of policy,
the product of opinion, the offspring of vague hopes and
fears 1
Now, as we wait for the manifestation of the Sons of
God, as we cherish an interest in the cause of truth and
goodness, and long to see them exhibited in their true glory
and power in the lives of men, (how the whole world is now
suffering for the want of such an exhibition, every thoughtful
man may see,) we must labour to introduce a principle of
action very different from those I have briefly specified, " the
poor and beggarly elements of the world." This is the high
office to which the friends of a religious reformation are most
emphatically called. The spirit of Jesus must re-appear
among men. There must be an appetite, a passion for good¬
ness, impelling them to seek it, and to realise it in their own
lives, because it is felt to be a great good, nay, infinitely the
greatest. It must be honoured and practised not as a means
of profit and advancement, but principally as an end, in¬
describably precious in itself. W^e must crave it as we crave
food. The analogy here may be homely, but it is the anal-
ogy of our text, very striking and important, and we shall do
well to consider it. Food sustains life. But then to sustain
life is not the motive that prompts us to take food. We are
moved to eat by a natural appetite, by hunger, which looks
not beyond the food that gratifies it. And because the appe¬
tite is gratified, life is sustained and preserved. If a man
were to undertake to eat, without ever feeling the sensation
of hunger, without any relish for his food, but only with a
view to sustain life, he would soon discover the impossibility
2
10
of the attempt. He must take food from a craving for food,
if it is to avail anything. The case is strikingly similar with
our spiritual nature. Well-doing promotes well-being in a
thousand different ways. Nothing contributes so directly and
so richly to our happiness. But then our own happiness is
not the true motive to act rightly. We must be impelled to
do good and be good by a feeling, desire or craving which
aims at spiritual perfection as something supremely desirable
in itself without reference to any of its consequences, how¬
ever extensive and enduring. We must hunger and thirst
after righteousness. It must be our bread, our divine, im¬
mortal bread ; our drink, yea, a well of water springing up
within us everlastingly. There is something more here
than mere figures of speech. There is the purest religion
and the soundest philosophy. Of the fact that virtue tend?
powerfully to make us and others happy, we cannot be care¬
less. But still the ruling impulse, the grand moving power
must be a vehement love of Truth and Goodness for their
own blessed sakes, a moral affection. So that what is wrong
we must not only disapprove, but loathe. The idea of doing
evil must make us absolutely heart-sick. This must be the
great spring of our spiritual activity, if we hope to be truly
good, and to advance the Cause of Heaven on earth. The
being good must transcend infinitely in our esteem all the
outward wealth and splendour of the Universe. No throne
on earth must be so dazzling and attractive as the throne of
virtue in the heart—the empire of goodness in the soul.
Until our great work as spiritual beings is set about in this
way, we shall wait in vain for any genuine and enduring
manifestations of the divine beauty of Holiness. Men must
be urged onward in their moral labours as they are in their
intellectual, by an impulse akin to the inspiration of genius.
And here it is important to remark, that in every human
pursuit, their success has always been the most eminent,
who have been actuated not by the prospect of lucre or even
of fame, but by a certain passionate fondness for the objects,
whether in art or science, to which they have been devoted.
From this class have always arisen the great lights of our
race, the inventors and discoverers, the revealers of truth,
11
of beauty, and of good. Their spring of exertion was
wholly unconnected with human opinion or any worldly in¬
terest or use whatever. They sought their respective objects
out of an irrepressible craving after an ideal excellence, and
in the workings of this high feeling, found an ethereal sus¬
tenance, and knew nothing and asked for nothing better,
proudly deeming it a compensation; yes, and a glorious
over-payment for innumerable difficulties, the indiiference,
contempt and opposition of an unsympathising world. With¬
out the inspiration of a similar feeling, we can never be qua¬
lified for the great work of religion. Truth and goodness
must be sought and cherished not for their temporal relations
nor for their consequences, immediate or remote, but as
things infinitely precious, essentially and transcendantlj
beautiful. And if we can only discern what is right, and dc
it, this we must esteem the height of our ambition, the end
of our being, the heaven of our loftiest hopes, the presence
and the spirit of God.
Upon the attention of our brethren of this religious society,
both pastor and people, the present subject has a peculiai
claim. You have underteiken, my friends, a great spiritua
work. You profess a form of Christian faith everywhere
spoken against. You stand alone in the midst of a commu¬
nity shrinking from you on all sides with distrust, prejudice
and abhorrence. The most erroneous and unworthy views
of Christianity, as you conceive, are maintained and propa¬
gated, and the most mistaken and painful impressions che¬
rished of our opinions and purposes. These circumstances
are very unfavourable to the existence and growth of thai
divine spirit, of which I have been speaking. Thus situated,
you are in great danger of being actuated by motives othej
than that highest and best. Let me mention briefly some ol
your dangers.
When one is surrounded by what he deems great errors
and unscriptural doctrines, religious systems dishonourable
to God and discouraging to man, he is liable to have his
mind inflamed with an angry spirit of opposition. But the
hatred of falsehood is not necessarily accompanied by a love
of truth. Accordingly, we find every where not a few ranked
12
among Unitarians, who are no further entitled to the name
than that they are opposed to the popular modes of religion.
They reject the Trinity and its associated doctrines, but the
simple and vivifying idea of one God, an all-animating
Spirit, our perpetual Witness and J udge has never once been
entertained by them in its divine power. The sun of Truth
seems to have risen behind them, and they are so engrossed
with the monstrous errors it has revealed, they never turn
round and lose themselves in its unutterable glory. And so
from their countenances no light beams. The passions they
cherish and express, they excite, and the advocates of error
only become the more settled and determined in their pre¬
judices. The true and loyal servants of Truth, her only
successful ministers are those who, forgetful of all else, delight
to turn and gaze upon her radiance, until kindled and trans¬
figured thereby, they reflect her light all around, and are
recognised and reverenced as if they had just come down out
of the central blaze of her glory.
Again. Reminded as you must be in numberless ways,
public and private, of the feelings with which others regard
you, knowing how many watchful and jealous eyes are bent
upon you, you are in danger of referring yourselves and
your spiritual eflbrts too anxiously to others, of thinking
too carefully what others will think and say ; and so you
may be induced to modify your convictions by their pre¬
judices, to shrink from the full expression of jmur opinions,
to think rather of conciliating men than of promoting the
truth, in a word, to serve the time all too slavishly. Or else,
which is not unlikely, when you observe the obstinacy of
prejudice, you may be driven, if I may so speak, out of
spite and a feeling of desperation to shock and startle the
feelings of others, by carrying out your opinions to rash and
unfounded extremes, and by violent and extravagant and
distorted statements of truth, in order to revenge yourselves
for being, as you may suppose so ill-treated. They who act
under either of these biasses are in great danger not only of
losing the spirit so essential to those who would follow the
great Master in the Regeneration, but of falling under the
influence of the most lamentable bigotry. Feeling all loo
13
sensitively the absence of human sympathy and co-operation,
they are unconsciously led to exaggerate the worth of those
who may agree with them in their peculiar views, and to
think slightingly of the good qualities of those who persevere
in dissent and opposition. And what is this but the crying
sin of the religious world, bigotry 7 Is it not the very essence
of bigotry, that it sets up a false and unchristian standard of
character, and judges men not by their fruits, but by their
opinions? Such are the consequences of that too anxious
reference to others to which your peculiar situation exposes
you. It must inevitably defeat itself, corrupting your sen¬
timents, and blasting every hope of success.
Would you exert a sure and commanding influence upon
those around you, you must give it to be seen plainly and
unequivocally that you are attached to what you hold to be
the truth, not with feelings divided between a deference for
the opinion of the world and your own conclusions, not out
of a spirit of opposition, but from a deeply seated sense of
the inflnite worth and loveliness of truth, and that all you
say and do in its behalf is said and done out of the over¬
flowing abundance of your heart, penetrated and filled with
love and veneration. It must be manifest, that you engage
in the stated religious services not from the mechanical
force of habit ; oh no, and not for the sake of singularity, but
from an irrepressible conviction that impels you, and will
not permit you to keep still or to stand by with indifference.
Let this be your feeling, and it will work within you, and
for you like the right hand of the Omnipotent. What did it
not do for the great author of our faith? It not only nourish¬
ed and sustained him under the most depressing circumstances
—fatigue, hunger and thirst. It made him feel not only
while he was on earth, but even when he was wrapt in earth's
deepest clouds, and laden with its heaviest sorrows, that he
was in heaven, yea, and in the very bosom of the Everlasting
Father, It arrayed him in a glory which was the glory of
God, so that in him God became visible as he is visible
no where else. To a world sunk in ignorance and iniquity,
he became a fountain of healing, life-giving truth, although
while he lived none understood him, but he was ridiculed.
14
persecuted, and put to death in a manner the most cruel and
ignominious. It will do for us what it did for him. Tongue
cannot describe, nor heart conceive, the influence it will
exert, the unconquerable force it Avill diffuse through our
whole being. When this fire is once kindled within you,
every selfish principle, every worldly habit that may have
been fostered there will vanish, crumbling away and con¬
sumed in this all-cleansing fire from Heaven. All meaner
desires will be lost in this lofty and generous craving after
truth—goodness—perfection as its natural and imperishable
food. Its influence will not, it cannot be confined to you.
Such is its celestial power, so real and deep are the spiritual
sympathies between man and man, that others must catch
the electric spark, and be inflamed and purified thereby. I
care not how opposite to yours their views may be. Like
the rod of Moses it will strike the flinty hearts of the most
bigoted, and the refreshing waters of mercy shall come gush¬
ing therefrom. I had almost said, I care not what your
peculiar views may be—however strange and eccentric they
may seem, let it appear to the world that they are to youi
the symbols of the Infinite and the Divine, that you cherish
them for an unspeakable value you believe them to possess,
and then whether they are understood by others or not,
whether you succeed or not in their logical exposition, the
spirit that animates you will spread, and the contagion of your
example will seize all hearts. In this way, and in no other can it
be explained, that so many ill constructed systems of religion
have flourished in the world. Their expounders, though
they have scarcely been able to utter themselves intelligibly
or articulately even, yet as they have given it to be seen
that they were inspired by some deep and inexpressible feel¬
ing, by a spirit to which they could give no worthy mani¬
festation, by that impulse which an ancient philosopher hath
called the yearning after the immeasurable and the infinite,
they have wielded a power in the world and built up their
peculiar modes of religion, and mustered countless hosts of
votaries. But, my friends, our faith is not the strange and
ill-formed offspring of a heated fancy. It can be expressed
in a form of sound words, aye, and in the simple and sublime
15
language of hirn who spake as never man spake. ÊtoW
much more confident may we be then that if we only uphold
it in the love of it, it will reach and sway the hearts of man¬
kind.
We see men everywhere around us deeply immersed in
the cares and occupations of life, in the hot and all-engrossing
competitions of business and gain. The whole world is
given to idolatry, for what is the definition of idolatry, but
this, the worship and devotion of the life given to something
different from God, from the Supreme Goodness and infinitely
beneath it. When we observe how little time and heart men
seem to have for the spiritual and invisible things of religious
truth, we are rêady to despond. Our faith in the power of
religion is shaken, and we cry, " O that Thou wouldst rend
the Heavens and come down that these insensible hearts
might flow down at thy presence !" If we would only be¬
lieve it—out of our own bosoms must the influence come
which is to renovate a world buried in sense and .sin. Let
the true spirit only live here, though it be but in only one
solitary heart, it will go forth and with an invincible force
shiver into atoms all the incrustations of the world that have
gathered over the spiritual life in the souls of men. It will
penetrate and arouse their inmost being. For notwithstand¬
ing all the diversities of human habits and pursuits, there is
in every man some sentiment of religion. It may be buried
under a heap of corruption. But it is there. As in water*
face answereth to face, so the heart of man to man. Go on
then, brethren and friends, nothing wavering, nothing dis¬
mayed at the errors and ignorance and insensibility that may
meet you on all sides. And though no great results should
bless your eyes before you close them in death, still in the
bare possession of that truth which God hath sent down out
of his holy heavens, have you not your life, your reward,
your crown of rejoicing, your exceeding joy 7
CHARGÉ,
BIT
tlET. WILLIAM WARE, OF NEW-YORK.
I HAVE been invited to give what is termed the Charge on
this occasion—that is, to speak to you of the duties of the
office you undertake, and exhort you to a faithful perform¬
ance of them.
In the present instance this seems to be almost or quite a
superfluous task ; since you have already borne for a series
of years in connexion with another people the burden of the
Christian ministry, and may be supposed to know equally
well with myself its nature and requirements. This is a
reason—if not why I should not address you at all—at least
why I should be brief—why I should but glance at some of
the great and interesting topics wliich lie before me.
But were this not so, were you new to the office, I could
give you this Charge, I must add, not as one claiming autho¬
rity or holding any higher place than yourself in the Church
of our Lord, but as one who simply rehearses as much for
his own admonition as yours some of the duties of the office
of a minister of Christ. In you then I behold myself, and in
speaking to you I seem, but to be reminding myself of what
I owe to the Gospel, to the Church of Christ, and to the
people whose minister I am.
It it is your desire, my brother, to be a good and faithful
minister of the Lord Jesus Christ. I would sav to you in the
17
first place, Honour your office. If you esteem it lightly yoti
cannot but serve it ill. It is in itself a great office. There is
none on earth greater or more honourable—none to which the
world is more indebted for whatever measure of virtue and
happiness it enjoys. If it ever deserve contempt, it must be
because unworthily filled. He who seeks it merely as a
profession, as one way of passing respectably through life,
and values it but in proportion to the hours of ease it affords,
and leisure for other things, will be certain to betray the
worldliness of his mind in so many ways as to cause his
sincerity to be suspected, (though no expression of that sus¬
picion may ever reach his ear,) and with those who will
judge religion through its ministers—they are the greater
part—will be equally certain to bring the office itself into dis¬
repute and contempt. So far as I have observed, there is no
one whom men of all characters and professions are more
ready to honour than a useful, conscientious minister ; one,
who, they see, seeks not himself but in the true spirit of
self-sacrifice, the moral and religious welfare of those com¬
mitted to him. And, on the other hand, there is no one whom
they more thoroughly despise, with whatever outward respect
they may treat him—and this sort of hypocrisy is rarely
wanting—than a selfish, worldly man who seeks himself and
preaches himself. They are quick in discriminating character
and very soon learn how much of a man's heart is in his
profession, and how much is every where else ; and their
respect rises or falls accordingly. If you esteem your calling
as it is worthy to be esteemed, you cannot fail in its duties,
you yourself will be honoured in proportion, and religion
through you. Begin by despising it, or even holding it too
low, and the certainty is, that the contempt you feel for it
will be visited upon yourself and through you, upon your
faith. If I were to give modern " reasons for the contempt
of the Clergy," one would be, that they are seen so often
despising their own vocation—abandoning it for some other,
reaching after other things, aping the manners and ways of
the world, covetous of some other and higher reputation
than that which a quiet faithful discharge of the duties of
their great office would confer. This brings contempt upon
3
19
the order, and justly. But the opposite character to this is
quite as sure to bring it honour. Who among modern mi¬
nisters, among men T miglit almost say, are honoured like
Oberlin and Neff! What Canterbury Bishop with all his
worldly power and spendour ever lived like them in the
heart and reverence of all Cliristendom.
These were single-minded, single-hearted men. To be
good ministers of Jesus Christ was all their aim. There
must be in you also great suigleness of purpose or you can-
npt be a good minister of the Lord Jesus. A mind distracted
by attention to various and in many respects opposing objects
of inquiry, can give its entire strength to no one of them.
Some must be neglected. If you would excel as a minister
you must be content not to excel as any thing else. This is
generally true. There are some minds large enough and
quick enough to grasp many things and excel in all. But
these are few. In proportion as you should acquire a re¬
putation as a literary critic, or a fine writer, or a student of
the classics, or a mathematician, or a politician, would you
be almost certain to lose it as a minister of Christ. You
could build up and sustain a name in either of these depart¬
ments of study only by giving to it the best of your strength
and the most of your time. These must be withdrawn from
your proper business. Let then the pulpit and your people
have all the freshness and fulness of your powers.
The Christian Minister has properly but two books in
which it is absolutely requisite that he be thoroughly skilled,
the Bible is one—especially the New Testament—Mankind
the other. He must know both of these well, and study them
by all the light he can obtain from every various source.
You cannot devote too much time to the New Testament.
You may become even an exact scholar here without en¬
croaching upon your other duties. It is indeed your principal
concern to keep up and increase your knowledge in this
direction, by a perusal of all works of modern criticism as
they appear, which bid fair to place in a clearer light
any obscure or difficult part of the sacred volume. You
may without shame betray your ignorance of Aristophanes
19
and Terence, of the modern tongues and the modern
sciences—but not of the Bible. In scripture knowledge it
will be expected that you be well furnished. Ignorance
here is disgrace. The other book which I named, it is essen¬
tial also that you should understand well ; and to be under¬
stood it must be studied profouitdly. Unless you know the
human heart how can you reach it ? How can you comfort,
cure or save it ? And you can know it only by approaching
it, and looking into it with the eye of a philosopher and the
sympathy of a Christian. Opportunity can never be want¬
ing. Man may be read every where and at all times. Like
nature itself, human nature is all around presenting at once
the most curious, the most difficult and the most useful sub¬
jects of research. You may study very closely and very
profitably as you converse with your neighbour, or as you
mingle in the promiscuous society of the evening circle. You
may thus oftentimes be most busy when you seem to be
most idle.
Let this singleness of mind which gives unity to your
studies appear also in your devotion to the interests of the
particular church over which you are placed, and to the
spiritual and general welfare of those to whom you minister.
Be theirs and theirs only. Hold yourself at their disposal.
Be ready to remain with them or go from them as shall best
promote their moral good, without too nice a regard to your¬
self and your own. Count it no sacrifice to deny yourself
for their sake. Renounce other society however much to be
desired, and other claims however imperious in your eye, if
they interfere with what you owe to them as their Christiau
Minister.
To be a faithful minister—i/ie pulpit must claim your
principal care. If you do any good it will be accomplished
directly or indirectly by this instrument. Let nothing in¬
terfere with your preparations for it. Think not to make up
for deficiency here by increased familiarity with your people.
It will be to no purpose. Your power of usefulness as a
Parish Minister and a visitor will be in proportion to your
success and excellence as a preacher. No one will ever be
20
coveted as a private counsellor and moral guide who in (he
first place speaks not powerfully or profitably to the intellect
and the heart as a public dispenser of Religious Truth.
There must be first this public respect—or there will be little
of any other. No matter how much you may go about from
house to house, you will obtain scarce anything better for
your pains than the reputation of a clerical gossip, except
your character as a sound and learned, an eloquent or a
useful preacher make you welcome by making you respected.
When respected you will be desired. And when respected
and desired your intercourse with your people will be de¬
lightful to yourself and mutually profitable. Let the pulpit
therefore, I repeat, have your first care. Bend all the
energies of your mind to the production of that which shall
inform the minds, warm the affections, awaken the con¬
sciences of your hearers. Let usefulness be your aim in
all that you write. Only remember whom you are address¬
ing and for what purpose, and you will carefully abstain
from topics suitable to any place rather than a Christian
Church. Remember that Jesus Christ came into the world
to save sinners, and never for one moment forgot or turned
aside from his great object. Your office is essentially the
same. Sin is what you have to war with. Sin is the enemy
to be defeated—Sin the Devil you are to resist and dethrone.
It is for this warfare your weapons are to be prepared. Your
sermons are therefore to have one general character. They
are to be moral, spiritual, devotional ; addressed not to the
taste and the imagination—but to the conscience, heart,
and life. They are to bear down with directness, and
with all the force you can throw into them upon prevailing
vices and sins ; and to hold up in all the beauty of truth
and of a just embellishment their opposite virtues. When¬
ever you turn aside materially from this track you forsake
the path of the Gospel. Christ is no longer your guide;
you follow fancy or philosophy. When you devote the
hours of the Sabbath to a display of your own ingenuities,
instead of setting forth the great vital truths of the Gospel,
you are mournfully false to your trust. If you wish to dis-
2Í
burden your mind of curious or learned conceits, of meta¬
physical or scholastic ones, give them to the world through
some other channel, and spare the pulpit. They may indeed
in the shape of sermons hit the fancy of a few, but they
will disappoint and grieve the many. Souls hungering and
thirsting after righteousness, will go aAvay empty still. It is
a phrase—greatly abused but strong and full of meaning—
and I therefore use it, and charge you to preach Christ—to
PREACH Christ—and you will then always satisfy the
humblest and the most intelligent of those who hear you.
In saying these things I am not charging you to be tame,
flat and common-place, to preach but one sermon—I trust I
am not misunderstood—but to throw all your genius into an
illustration and enforcement of the useful, the practical, the
exclusively Christian. Let this be your aim, and then the
more of ingenuity—power—imagination—the better.
And what now in the last place, (passing by many other
things,) shall I say to you in your peculiar character as a
preacher of Unitarian Christianity, that is, as we conñdently
believe of original, unadulterated Christianity. I shall make
but one observation. The striking feature of this form of
Christianity, is, that its peculiarities are the moral, spiritual,
practical parts of the Gospel ; so that when I exhort you—
as in the character of a sectarian, I may be expected to do,
and shall readily be forgiven, I doubt not, for doing—
to preach boldly the peculiarities of your creed, that which
distinguishes your faith from every other, I am only exhort¬
ing you to preach the moral, the spiritual, and the practical
of Christianity ; to preach precisely those things which con¬
stitute the sermons and the character of Jesus Christ. As a
Unitarian preacher you have nothing else than this to do
while you shall be employed in presenting the peculiar
features of your faith. This is a great felicity. Let these
then make the burden of your preaching. Preach Christ,
not of contention—but his character, his services, his sacrifice ;
his life, death, and resurrection. Preach his religion, ex¬
plain its truths, declare its sanctions, unfold its power, reveal
its promises. In doing this you preach Christ in the highest
23
sense, and at the same time set forth the peculiarities of your
faith as a Unitarian Christian.
I could willingly go on, but I must pause. I rejoice in your
settlement among us. A third church already established
in this great city—for we make but one—is refreshing to the
spirits of the friends of truth. May you be prosperous—may
you be happy ; and this you will be if you shall be a good
and faithful minister of the Lord Jesus,
EIGHT HAND OF FELLOWSHIP,
St
REV. MR. FARLEY, OF PROVIDENCE.
Take this right hand of fellowship, my Brother, as ex¬
pressive of the trust and confidence, the hopes and wishes,
the readiness to sympathize with and aid you, of these as¬
sembled churches. The simple token of that love, which
binds together the scattered members of Christ's body—the
simple pledge that amid your labours and trials, your joys and
successes, in this part of the Lord's vineyard, other hearts will
beat in unison with yours, and rise in prayer, in thanksgiving
to the Universal Father.—The significant symbol of a union
formed for the holiest and most beneficent ends, depending
upon no arbitrary authority, recognising no degrading sub¬
mission on the one hand nor usurped power on the other, but
only bringing together like holy affections and like devoted
purposes, to co-operate the better and the Iwagar in spreading
the triumphs of truth, and increasing the glory and bliss oí
the soul.
And can we unite for a better or more blessed work ? Has
the Great Being who assigns to all their duties, given to any
of the race a nobler one than ours ? Does the human soul
as it searches through all the spheres of earthly labour in its
desires to rise and expand itself, and to do good to other souls.
24
find aught so pure or so inspiring as tiiis ministry which íá
given us 1 And if so, my Brother, how natural to congratu¬
late you, upon your re-entrance upon its stated and sacred
duties amid this newly congregated band of disciples. We
do indeed congratulate you. We congratulate you upon the
delightful prospects here opened, of being the instrument,
under God, of building up in the midst of this active and
flourishing community a spiritual and living temple to His
glory—of feeding hungry souls with the bread of life, and
leading them to the waters of salvation—of pouring the balm
of consolation into the wounded spirit, and binding up the
broken in heart—of awakening sinners to repentance, and
leading forward the faithful—of calling forth the fresh powers
of youth to their most glorious office, and strengthening the
mature and the aged, that they may finish their course with
joy. We congratulate you upon the reasonable hope which
you may indulge, that by a wise and zealous devotedness in
your high office, you may advance here the cause of that
pure truth which fell from the lips of the Great Teacher,
and stripping it of the corruptions with which a false theo¬
logy has encumbered it, win many souls to embrace and hold
it fast, in its simplicity, in its power. Yes, it is the truth,
this truth, the truth of God, the truth of salvation, which is
tobe your great weapon, your strong staif—to give confidence
to your efforts, to inspire your pen and your lips, to ensure your
crown of rejoicing in the day of the Lord. This you know—
this, we trust, you have already experienced—already amid
the throng of glorified spirits above, there are those who
are bearing witness day and night before the throne oí God to
the power of that truth, and the fidelity with which in
another sphere you have dispensed it.
We cannot„AikUellow labourers with you, as brethren of a
common faith, holding views of the grand scheme of redemp¬
tion unfolded by Jesus Christ, which are still so widely mis¬
apprehended, and so much dreaded and spoken against, we
cannot disguise the joy we feel that to your hands is con¬
signed the duty of recommending these views to the under¬
standings, and enforcing them upon the consciences of men,
in a place where hitherto they have been to a great degree
as
unknown : that a new lodgment has been attained by them
in so promising a spot ; and that to you is committed the
charge of deepening and extending the foundation which God
in his good Providence has permitted you to lay. We shall
never cease to implore of Him, that the walLso well begun
may be prospered in your hands—that the brightest anti¬
cipations of this hour may to the full be realized, and that
year after year as they successively roll away, may see more
and more giving themselves to your ministry, till you are
called to its reward.
I need not detain you, nor this assembly longer. The
fellowship of the churches you have already enjoyed—it has
never been taken from you—it never more readily embraced
you, than during all the period of your separation from any
particular charge. But its expression is repeated to you for
the sake of the new branch of Christ's church over which
you are placed. With what interest are those who have
called you hither, engaged in this day's solemnities ! And in
looking to the future, though there are some who are to out¬
live you, how are they all to pass through various vicissitudes
in which you cannot but partake—and how many are to bow
in sorrow, or sink in sickness and in death, amid the sym¬
pathy, and prayers, and offices of consolation, which you are
to bring them. What a solemn, what a holy relation, binds
you together ! What a sublime, and responsible office is
upon you ! God give you strength to sustain it !
My Brother, our spheres of duty are full wide apart—
but a common work, a common end, a common hope brings
us near. I have spoken for the churches. Let me say a
word for myself. Let me give you luy hand once more,
with one word of friendly greeting from a heart that would
be knit closer with yours. Let it be the pledge of a personal
interest in your new situation, and in all that awaits you,
which I trust, will cease^ith life. If my joy in your pros¬
perity, or my sympathy in your trials be at all valuable to
Vou, rest assured they are yours. If the prayers of any of
your brethren for the Divine blessing, can avail at the throne
of Grace by virtue of the sincerity of the offering, '* mine
4
26
«hall not all be heard in vain." If there be aught ever within
my power of aid or comfort in this holy ministry, doubt not
it will be ready, my brother, at the hour of need.
" And the very God of peace sanctify you wholly ! And
I pray God yOiii;c.,FhoIe spirit, and soul, and body be pre¬
served blameless unto the coming of the Lord Jesus Christ."
[After the first part of tliis pamphlet had been printed, it was ascer¬
tained that the Gentleman who made the
ADDRESS TO THE PEOPLE,
would decline to give a copy for publication.—This will account for its
non-appearance.]
ORDER OF THE EXERCISES
AT THE
INSTALLATION OF THE REV. D. H. BARLOW,
OVER
THE FIRST UNITARIAN SOCIETY,
Iff BROOKLYN, N. Y.
I. ANTHEM.
" THE LORE IS IN HIS HOEV TEMPUa."
II. Introductory Prayer—hy the Rev. Mr. WARE, o/JVew-Forfc.
III. Selections from Scripture—hj the Rev. Mr. FARLEY,
of Providence.
IV. ORIGINAL HYMN. (Tune—JVuremhurg.)
by rbv. d. h. bari/ow.
i.
Sons of an immortal Stock,
Hewn from out a living Rock,
Bound to better climes on high.
Born to hopes that never die,—
Lord ! we gather here to raise
Humble prayer and grateful praise.
ii.
Here a " living sacrifice "
Craves a blessing from the skies,—
Be it kindled W a ray
Caught from Heaven's own Orb of Day,—
May no spot nor blemish mar ;
Burn it heavenward clear and far.
iii.
Be the truths, that Jesus taught.
Be the works, that Jesus wrought.
Be his promises benign.
And the hopes he bade to shine,
Here efiectually displayed
By thy Holy Spirit s aid.
iv.
As each coming sacred day
Calls us here our vows to pay,
Let our lowly temple be
Filled with all the Deity,
And be every heart a shrine
Breathing incense forth divine.
v.
And when hushed the tuneful songs.
Lingering on these mortal tongues—
When no more these voices mute
Urge the supplicating suit—
Join we then in Heaven to raise
Purer prayer and nobler praise.
2ä
t. installing prayer—6y the Rev. Mr. stetson^
of Medford, Mass,
V. ORIGINAL HYMN. (Tune—Tamtcorth.)
by mrs. emma c. embury.
I.
Lord of Hosts ! from whose full bounty
All our choicest blessings flow ;
Deign to hear our supplication,
Look upon thy Church below—
Bowed before thee, we implore thee ;
Hear thy people's earnest prayer.
II.
Look on him, who at thine altar
Ministers thy holy will—
Shed a Father's blessing on himj
With thy grace his spirit fill.
Be in him redeemed the promise,
" As thy day shall be thy strength.*'
Hi.
On thy holy shrine he offers
All his powers of heart and mind—
Be his mind by thee illumined.
Be his heart by thee refined.
Be no portion of the treasure
Given by thee, from -thee withheld.
IV.
Chosen to stand at thy high altar.
And proclaim thy wondrous love#
Be his words and life a heacon.
Guiding us to worlds above.
By his hands, oh ! feed thy people.
Feed them with thy " living bread.*'
VII. SERMON—Rev. Mr. FURNESS, of Phüadelphia.
VIII. MUSIC.
IX. CHARGE—fty Rev. Mr. WARE, of Mw-York.
X. RIGHT HAND OF FELLOWSHIP—61/ Rev. Mr. FARLEY,
of Providencei
XI. ADDRESS TO THE PEOPLE—Rev. Mr. HALL,
of Providence.
XII, Concluding Prayer—hy Rev. Mr. ARNOLD, of J^eie-York.
xm. MUSIC.
XIV. BENEDICTION.
^U6 ^on^ic/emtûm' c/ '^d^¿öhan
. A
SERMON
PREACHED AT THE
ORDINATION
OP THE
Rev. SAMUEL MAY, Jr.,
AS MINISTER OF THE
âeconïi ítonsteflítítonal Socíctg tit aetccster,
August 13, 1834;.
BY FRANCIS W. P. GREENWOOD,
Junior Minister of King's Chapel, Boston.
, PUBLISHED BY REQUEST. ' •
WORCESTER :
S. H. COLTON AND CO...PRirÍTERS.
1834.
ORDINATION SERMON,
■ QíS^~
1 Thess. v. 12. And vie beseech you, brethren, to know them which
Icibor among you, and are over you in the Lord, and admonish you.
In the very first ages of Christianity, the congregations
or churches of Christians were organized and orderly
assemblies, háving presiding officers, who conducted public
worship, labored among the people of their charge in
various duties connected with their spiritual welfare, admon¬
ished them, and in short were over them in the Lord.
The general idea of this supervision, arose no doubt from
the necessities and proprieties of the case ; and the general
form of duty and authority prescribed to those who were
appointed to it, was probably derived from the custom
of the Synagogue. It does not appear that Christ or his
apostles enjoined any form of church government, as of
obligation on future ages. The usage of the primitive
disciples, carries with it a certain degree of weight, and
is deserving of respectful regard ; but even if it could
be exactly ascertained, it might be justifiably modified or
changed afterwards, by the. circumstances of society and
the times. Thé misfortune has always been with Chris¬
tians, that they have made the example of the primitive
4
church prescriptive, where it was not intended to be so,
even if it had been precisely defined ; and have followed
out their error by resolving to define the example which
was left undefined, and by making their several definitions
causes of fierce contention. If the apostles had undertaken
to erect a certain form of ecclesiastical polity for the future
observance of the church, they would first have clearly set
it forth in all its parts and proportions, and then they would
have as clearly enjoined its adoption. But they have in
fact done neither, and have left the church free to adopt
its own forms. If the government of the primitive church
could be proved to be of the episcopalian character—a
point, however, which cannot be proved—still I should
not consider myself boutid to be an episcopalian. If the
primitive form of government could be proved to be pres-
byterian or congregational—a point likewise unsusceptible
of strict demonstration—I should not therefore consider
myself bound to be a presbyterian or a congregationalist.
I should respect the primitive practice, and might be
desirous, if all circumstances were favorable, of following
it ; but I should not regard it as obligatory, because, in
the first place, no particular practice is enjoined, and
in the second place, a different practice might better suit a
different time. Why is it not enough to know that the
assemblies of the primitive church had their government,
their officers, and their discipline, that all things might be
done decently and in order, and that we follow them
essentially, if we do all things decently and in order,
though our mode of government may differ in detail from
theirs }
The apostle's exhortation to the Thessalonian church,
respecting those who labored among them in the ministry,
is applicable to the case of - all acknowledged religious
instructers, whatever may be their precise office and name.
It is the permanent duty of all Christian congregations
to know those who are over them in the Lord.
5
" To know," signifies in the present connection,. not
simply to become acquainted with, but to respect, to
properly appreciate, to have a considerate regard for.
The particular manifestations of this knowledge or respect,"
will be different in different ¿iges and situations of the
church. I would plead, on the present occasion, for that
just appreciation of the character, intentions, and labors,
of Christian teachers and ministers, to which I conceive
them to be entitled at the present day. But I do not
mean to claim, I am not disposed to claim for them, any
blind reverence or precedence on account of the oiBce
which they hold. The office itself is to be respected,
for it is truly a sacred one. Beside other claims to respect,
it possesses that of being the concentrated expression of
the religious sentiment of a community ; and people are
rude to themselves when they offer rudeness to the per¬
sonification of their own best feelings and highest interests,
just as they are rude to themselves, when, by slighting an
office of civil rule, they insult the expression or personifi¬
cation of their own authority. But if the holder of the
pastoral office, sacred as it is, holds it unworthily—and
so of the holder of any high and important office—he
is only the more to be condemned. I claim for such an
one no respect, and no exemption from censure on account
of his office. What I ask for is, that every Clrristian
minister should be justly, fairly, considerately appreciated,
in determining the great question of his fitness for his
station, and his right to the affections of his people.
The remarks which I would offer on this subject may
be arranged under two general heads, having reference to
his capacity and his conduct. I would ask that the
Christian minister may be so known, so correctly and
considerately regarded, that he may not be required to
excel at all times and in every department of his duty,
and that his personal independence may be left to him.
6
I. I would ask, in the first place, of Christian con¬
gregations, that they would forbear to require excellence
on all points of those who are over them in "the Lord,
and that, they would keep in mind that in the person of
one individual, they cannot, have excellence in every exer¬
cise of a complicated office. One thing they certainly
have a right to require of their minister—which he is also
bound to require of himself—that he should aim after
excellence in all his duty ; that he should have before him
perpetually a high standard of duty ; that it should be a
holy principle with him, no moré to be lost sight of or
renounced, than his religion itself, that he should reverence
the. perfect, that he should fix it with his eye, though it
were afar off and above him, that he should pay to it his
heart's vows duly and faithfully, as the ancient Hungarian
turned each night to Arcturus, and the ancient Persian
knelt each morning to a nearer though not more glorious
sun. Without this pure love of the excellent in all its
manifestations, he cannot improve, nor can his people have
any good ground of satisfaction, • And it is easy enough
to tell whether he has it, and fosters it, or is without it,
and content to be without it. The works, the conversi-
tion, the very countenance, will be evidence for or against
him. But there are many things which stand between
the admiration and the possession of excellence. The
capacities and incapacities of nature are variously distrib¬
uted; In one man there will be a natural inaptitude for
a particular department of duty, and a natural fitness for
another department. Another man will be fitted for the
department in which the first was wanting, and deficient
in that for which the first was fitted. It was so from the
beginning. Moses ruled, and Aaron was eloquent, and
• their different abilities, were important to the whole con¬
gregation of Israel. And in the primitive Christian church
there were "diversities of gifts, Liîl the same Spmt,
7
differences of administrations, but the same Lord," and
" the manifestation of. the Spirit -was given to every man
to profit withal." There are some individuals,"hut they
are very few, who are so richly endowed that they are
able to attain excellence in many separate departments.
A more limited ability is the common ordination ; and it is
neither right nor wise to complain of the allotment, or
remain blind to its purposes. Whatever the manifestation
of the Spirit may he, it is given to.every man to profit
withal, and he to whom it is given, should improve it by
cultivation, and they for whose sake and in whose service
it is exercised, should encourage its improvement and
profit by it, and not throw away the advantage which is
before them in yearning, after that which is beyond their
reách. " .
I do not mean that a minister should make no exer¬
tions to qualify himself for the acceptable performance of
all the duties of his office. He should doubtless endeavor
to overcome difficulties of nature and disposition as far as
possible ; but it is given to few to be able to. cultivate
one kind of talent to its greatest profit, and at the sam'e
time to acquire another not originally bestowed. In the
ministerial bffice, as it is required to be exercised among
us, .there is no division of labor. One person must gen¬
erally answer all its calls as he best may. The sentiment
which I would impress, is, that the diversity of those
calls and the usual bounds of human capacity should be
well considered by the people, and that he should have
the advantage of such consideration, and should not be
expected to be equally efficient in every field of labor,
and should be pardoned and justified if, in order to work
well. in one field, he should find himself compelled to
afford but little attention to another. Is he willing ; is
he industrious ; does he love his work ; does he love his
people ; is he anxious to serve them ; has he a good
8
measure of capacity ?—if these questions can - be replied
to in the affirmative, then the defects viffiich may be
observed-in some of his ministrations, and the omission
of some services which might have been acceptable,
should be promptly excused, and it will be unkind and
unjust if they are not.
Let niie illustrate my meaning by a few examples.
Does the minister find by experience that he can serve
his people with the. best effect in the pulpit ; that there
he can best enforce the claims of religion and bring them
home to the hearts of his people ; that there he can best
inculcate those Christian principles which are strong to
guide their conduct and support them in the sorrows and
trials of life, and prepare them for death, for the future
world and the presetice of their Judge, then,* the pulpit
is to him the strength of his office, and preaching is to
him the particular manifestation of the Spirit, and he will
do well to cultivate his gift, and to preserve and increase
the influence which he exerts in this direction. And if
such should be the limit of his ability, such the construc¬
tion of his mind, that the time demanded for his prepara¬
tions for the pulpit should leave him but little to divide
among -his people at their homes, or that, having time
enough, he should be unable to edify them in their own
houses as much as he does in the house of the 'Lord,
the proper allowance should be made for the inequality,
and severe remarks should be spared, as unjust, and con¬
ducing as little to his improvement as to his comfort and
happiness.
On the other hand, if the minister's inclinations, powers,
and habits of mind, co-operating with circumstances and
his own convictions, should tend to make preaching
■his view a subordinate means of Christian influence, and
cause his usefulness to be particularly felt in parochiJ
visiting ; if he sees that under the domestic roofs of his
9
people he can in the most profitable and grateful manner
supply their spiritilal wants and fulfil the great purposes
of the Gospel ministry, then let him exert'his talent and
spend his time there, and if it should turn out, as I pre¬
sume it often will, that by reason of this devotion of his
time, his pulpit discourses will evince the want of study
and attention, the deficiency should be attributed to its
true cause, and cheerfully forgiven. And it is gratifying to
know, that if such forbearance is exercised for a reason¬
able time, there will afterwards be little need of it felt ;
for it is certain that well directed labors in the pulpit
create an influence for the preacher which lends a value
to an indififerent visit, while faithful, kind and edifying
visits will secure to the pastor a love and respect which
will throw a charm over an indifferent sermon, and inspire
it with efficacy too.
Perhaps the minister will have a peculiar gift in leading
the minds of the young to the proper employment of
time, and the love and service of religion. His heart
exhorts him, and his talents enable him to feed and tend
the lambs with engagedness and success. He should be
excused—all good parents will heartily excuse him—if
his services should not be of equal advantage to the
older ones of his flock. If he has not the faculty of
engaging the attention of the young, or not as good a
faculty as he has of interesting tlie more mature, let him
be pardoned for not having both faculties in an equally
eminent degree ; let pai-ents communicate to their own
children a portion of the spiritual benefit which- they are
from time to time receiving ; and by and by the children
will come to be ranked among the matyre, and be ready
for the direct reception of the same benefit.
The present is an age of great social activity. Men
meet and combine- together for almost all purposes, relig¬
ious purposes among the rest. A minister may be so
3
10
constituted or so situated that he is qualified and prompted
to take a conspicuous part in these meetings and associa¬
tions. Another minister may not be so constituted and
qualified. He may not be fitted for extemporaneous
elocution, and ready debate, and the organization and
enginery of societies, even if he approves of their existence
and their action. Let the one be permitted, and if reason
be, encouraged to go forward and stand up in the assem¬
blies of men, and let the other be indulged in Iris more
quiet pursuits and studies, so that both are evidently
employing their abilities in the cause of religion and
morality, and in the service of their people.
The world demands the exercise of that variety of
talent which is implanted and distributed by " one and
the self-same Spirit, dividing to every man severally as
he will." The needs of religion demand it; the pros¬
perity of the Church demands it. Let no vexatious checks
be thrown in its. way. It is a very old maxim, the truth
of which has never been disproved, that all men cannot
do all things ; but although its truth is acknowledged, it
is not yet thoroughly acted upon. I repeat, that I would
have no favor extended to the idleness, the inattention,
the dullness, of one who holds the responsible station of
a Christian minister. His whole soul and his whole Lïe
must be devoted to his calling, to his people. But let
him not be expected to do more than it is in his nature
to do. And it should be understood, that while uneasy
and unreasonable requisitions will be most unlikely to
quicken the diligence of the minister, and will most proba¬
bly operate to bring him into some conformity with the
querulousness and narrowness which he beholds all around
him—a more considerate and generous estimation and
treatment of him and his labors, will excite all the gea*
erous susceptibilities within him, and oblige him hy the
highest of all obligations, those of strong and grateful
11
feeling, to strain his endeavors after excellence, and do
his utmost to supply his deficiencies and increase his
usefulness.
11. It remains for me to ask in behalf of those who
labor among the congregations of our Lord, that they
should be allowed to maintain unimpaired their personal
independence. They should not be prevented from feel¬
ing that they may utter their sentiments with freedom,
that they may speak as teachers, that they may admonish
with boldness. This is their right, and more yet, it is
their duty. And congregations should so know those who
are over them in the Lord, as to aid rather than resist
them in the use of their right and the fulfilment of their
duty.
But, must a congregation sit always willing and still,
and, to use a common expression, hut a significant one
here, "take for Gospel" whatever a minister may ut¬
ter from the fulness of his heart rather than from the
fulness of his head Certainly they are not to take for
Gospel any thing which they are seriously convinced is
not Gospel ; certainly they ai-e not bound to listen long
to error without entering some testimony against it. A
teacher is not to be indulged in advancing crudities or
sophistries, merely because they are new, ingenious and
striking—for it must be confessed that some sentiments
are new and ingenious only because no rational person
ever thought of them, and are striking, only because they
are offensive. The congregation has a right to truth, to
simple, well-weighed, honest truth. But, on the same
ground that they have a right to hear the truth, the
teacher has a right to speak the truth, the simple, welli-
weighed, honest truth. This he has a perfect right to
speak, if he speaks it in love, which is the only spirit
which Christian truth approves, and in which it ever ought
to be spoken. And it should be borne in mind by the
12
congregation, that the main business of their teacher is
to examine truth, to search out what truth is, and what
truths are most profitable to the souls of his hearers ; and
therefore that they may be mistaken in the first judgment
which they pass upon his declarations, and may find that
what they took to be error at its annunciation, is truth
at last.
And what if sometimes it be not truth ? Is not the
minister to be allowed the consideration of human falli¬
bility ? Can it be expected that he should be always
and in every particular in the right, both in the matter
of what he declares and the manner in which he declares
it ? Is the erroneous or offensive nature of sentiments
which he may unadvisedly and occasionally advance, to
destroy or greatly impair the effect of volumes of useful
instruction and years of earnest toil ? Besides, these are
not days when opinions are imposed on any body.
Christian people are not bound to receive all that is
offered to them by their teachers. They would be indig¬
nant to be told, or to have it thought, that they were
so bound. But do they not sometimes seem to act as
if they were ? Do they not sometimes manifest a resent¬
ment at the proposition of an opinion or doctrine which
they disajiprove or disbelieve, as if they were obliged to
take it into their bosoms, an unwelcome and troublesome
guest, and maintain it there for ever ? If a proposition
comes to them from the pulpit, or the press, or in con¬
versation, which they regard as obnoxious, let them put
a mark upon it, and send it away ; and let them, if they
please, tell their teacher plainly but kindly that they have
sent it away ; and the teacher may answer in the same
spirit that they are at liberty to .do so, only that they
must beware that it is not truth which they brand and
send away. But if instead of this free and frank dissent,
silent or avowed, they are excited and angry at whatever .
13
happens to be distasteful to them, one of two things will
inevitably take place, either that a state of irritation will
be produced between the parties, exceedingly hurtful to
both and hurtful to the cause of religion, or, that the
minister will becomfe so sensitive to disapprobation, so
disturbed by various complaints, that he will part one by
one with all prominent characteristics, he will keep away
from the prejudices of one hearer, and the passions of
another, and the sins of a third, and he will tame him¬
self down to the merest common-places, and his people
will hear, Sabbaih after Sabbath, they cannot tell what
themselves, so languidly will it come in at one ear, and
so quietly will it go out at the other.
What has been just said, applies only to occasional
differences of opinion, or sentiment. It will be admitted
at once, that no people are to be expected to continue
uncomplaining hearers of a constant exposition of doc¬
trines, which after examination and careful thought they
cannot receive, and which they feel to be as unprofitable
as they are repulsive, or of a perpetual repetition of senti¬
ments which, using their best light, they view as hurtful.
In such a case, the best course and perhaps the only rem¬
edy is to part—and, if possible, in charity.
There is one subject or set q|' subjects, particularly,
which the minister should be expected and required to
avoid—the discussion of p'arty politics. His independ¬
ence is sufficiently respected and secured when he is
allowed to hold, and as a citizen, to avow, what political
principles he chooses. But he is not to bring them into
the pulpit, or into any exercise of his sacred functions.
The discussion can only irritate and alienate, without any
compensating advantage, and is one, besides, to which his
people arc generally as competent as himself. I cannot
find that the first preachers of Christianity ever interested
themselves in the party politics of their time, though the
14
political state of things was much worse then than it has
ever been in our day. I cannot find any party or state
politics in the New Testament. Infinitely higher inter¬
ests were the subjects of apostolic preaching. Infinitely
higher interests should be the subjects of pastoral instruc¬
tion now. Topics of temporal excitement enough are
abroad among us, inflammatory in their nature, fatal in
some of their results. It belongs to the minister of the
Prince of peace to strive to compose the roused passions
of men, and to speak peace to the people of God.
In speaking as I have now done, of the obligation of a
Christian community to know and justly to appreciate those
who labor among them, and are over them in the Lord,
and admonish them, I have not intended that the infer¬
ence should be drawn that there is not a corresponding
obligation on his part to know those among whom he
is called to labor. But the topics relating to his obliga¬
tions are better left, on this occasion, to other lips.
Neither have I, or could I have spoken under any im¬
pression that the suggestions which I have oflered are
particularly needed here. On the contrary there is every
promise that the congregation recently formed, and now
assembled, in the house which last evening we dedicated
to God and his Son, to witness the public consecration
of their connection with the pastor of their choice, will
esteem him highly in love "for his works' sake, and
co-operate with him in all his labors among tliem. f
pray God that it may be so always. I pray God, m
humble submission to his wise decrees, that he may long
be continued with them to their mutual edification, and
that he may be late called to his rest. I pray God tliat
while he shall permit this connection to subsist between
them, it may be blessed by his holy Spirit to their
growth in the spiritual and eternal life, in " faith, regen¬
eration aird atonement."
THE MANIFESTATION OF CHRIST.
A
SERMON,
PREACHED AT THE INSTALLATION
OF
REV. WILLIAM PARSONS LUNT,
AS
COLLEAGUE PASTOR WITH REV. PETER WHITNEY
OVER THE
CONGREGATIONAL CHURCH IN QUINCY,
JUNE 3, 1835.
BY N. I.. FROTHHrOHAJtl,
MINISTER OP THE FIRST CHURCH IN BOSTON.
BOSTON:
LEONARD C. BOWLES.
1835.
PRINTED BY TUTTLZ AND WEEKS,
No. 8, School Street.
SERMON.
TIMOTHY iii. 16.
MANIFEST IN THE FLESH, JUSTIFIED IN THE SPIRIT, SEEN OF ANGELS, PHEACH-
ED UNTO THE GENTILES, BELIEVED ON IN THE WOELD, EECEIVED UP INTO
GLOEY.
Of whom or what is the apostle speaking in this magni¬
ficent language ? Of the gospel î Of Jesus the master
of Christians ? Or of something even higher still ? Per¬
haps of all, and yet of neither. Of neither, if we construe
it exclusively or too technically. Of all, if we will gather
up into one noble idea what lies scattered over it. I will
give a name to this idea, and say — the Christ of God.
That term is specific, and yet not narrowed down within
the lines of any sectarian formulary. It is strictly scrip¬
tural. It partakes accordingly of that generous expansive-
ness of scripture meaning, which the pride of opinion and
the love of sway and the minuteness of a vain search are
forever striving to chain up in cold definitions. Every one
understands it in his own way ; and that is the only way in
in which I am now concerned to be understood. The
Christ ! The anointed ! The sent ! The truth of God !
The hope of man ! The word of divine life ! That is
the subject of which Paul is speaking.
Let us pass now to the thing affirmed. It is expressed
in several propositions thrown together fervidly and with a
certain rhetorical earnestness. There is no need of seeking
4
in each of them for some special and nicely separated truth.
They are evidently heaped upon each other, with the same
spirit and intent, and illustrating one great thought. That
thought is manifestation. If we look over the particulars
enumerated, we shall see that they all bear upon that.
Manifest in the flesh;—justified, — i.e. as the original
word properly imports, openly acknowledged and attested,
by the spirit ; seen of angels and appointed messengers ;
preached, displayed, to the gentiles ; recognised in the
world ; visibly received up into glory.
It was a bright era for humanity, when this revelation
appeared ; when " the word," that had been made order
and design in the outward creation, that had been made
reason and understanding and conscience, those inspirations
of the Almighty, in the human breast, " was made flesh,"
and dwelt among us as man with men, full of grace and
truth. Herein lies the difference between revealed religion,
of which ministers are set chiefly for the interpretation and
defence, and the religion that is called natural. It is a dif¬
ference more in the form than in the articles,—but that
form how immeasurably superior to every other, in which
sacred instruction has been presented to the mind ! How
much more distinct, more direct, more satisfactory, more
affecting is it, than any of the philosophic theories and
barren abstractions, which the invention of man can set up
in its stead ! We often hear of the voice of nature, as pro¬
claiming the perfections, the requirements, the promises of
God. And there is a truth thus affirmed. But it is not a
literal truth. We must not lose sight of the fact, that they
who thus speak are speaking but in a metaphor. Nature
has no voice. Its wondrous courses move on in silence.
Hay and night do not speak to each other, as they ex¬
change their watches. The song of the stars is a fiction of
poetry. Not one of the innumerable sounds in the natural
creation articulates the name of Him who gave them their
5
tone. No language nor doctrine is configured in the bril¬
liant characters of the sky. So in the moral world.
There is a conviction of right and wrong in the breast.
But it has no tongue. Not the slightest whispers go round
among the crowded thoughts of the heart. The hope of
futurity, or as the book of Ecclesiastes represents it — the
immortal,* is set there, but it is dumb. When the righteous
Providence sends down its retributions, they do not tell
why or to what end they are sent. All that we receive
from these sources is the inferences which we ourselves
draw from what we see and experience. We know how
dubious these will often be. But the revealed gospel ex¬
hibits clear objects to our faith and affections. It speaks
out, and its speech is with authority. It draws nigh as a
friend. It sends back no inquiring mind with answers too
vague to reach its peculiar necessity or trouble. It is per¬
sonal in all its communings with the children of men. It
goes wherever they are occupied, — to the sea-side, to the
receipts of custom,—and bids them follow into its kingdom
of joy. You are perplexed amidst a multitude of conflict¬
ing thoughts. I am the way and the truth. You are a
mourner. Death has broken into the circle of your love, or
the bondage of its fear is heavy on your spirit. I am come
that you may have life. You are afraid of a self-decep¬
tion in imagining other worlds than this. In my Father's
house are many mansions ; if it were not so, I would have
told you. You are bowed down under the hard services
and cares of life. Come unto ine and you shall find rest.
You have sinned. Lay hold in repentance on me who am
the sinner's friend. You must all appear at the judgment.
It is I, who shall be throned upon its seat.
Thus does it prove itself to be of a nature to fill and con¬
tent the spirits of thoughtful men. After they have been
wandering about among the speculations of the learned and
♦Ecclesiastes iii. 11.
6
ingenious, seeking there for the sure grounds of religious
truth, of religious trust, they return to the plain wisdom
of the gospel, and to its resting place on the rock, and they
are satisfied. They look with concern on the dealings of
heaven, crossing fatally the paths of mortal desire and losing
themselves in impenetrable darkness ; and they are sad¬
dened at what they cannot prevent, and astounded at what
they cannot understand. It is not till they bring down
their restless misgivings to the dispositions of the Christian
faith, that they acquiesce and are satisfied. We hazard
nothing in saying, that it has done more than all other means
together to persuade them of the paternal character of God,
to lodge in their hearts the spirit of a filial reliance, and to
fasten upon their convictions the doctrine of life everlasting.
A little more than eighteen hundred years ago, Christ was
manifested to the nations. Manifested. Let me ask you
again to mark the expression. He was made known, dis¬
played, presented to mankind, as a living, individual being.
Paul speaks of " the mystery of Christ, which in other ages
was not made known unto the sons of men as it is now re¬
vealed unto his holy apostles and prophets by the spirit."
And Peter says of his master, " who verily was foreordained
before the foundation of the world, but was manifest in
these last times for you." Did he exist then before he was
seen ? Yes ; in the determinate counsel of God certainly.
Yes ; in all the preparations that were made for his coming
among the race of Abraham, and in all the fitnesses that were
ready for the reception and acknowledgment of him among
the other nations. We may add, he existed in the scattered
virtues, wherever they were, of which he was afterwards
the complete example ; in the broken rays, wherever they
spread, of that divine truth of which he became the full orb.
He existed so far as the doctrines that he established were
suggested, and the spirit that he inculcated felt. Justas he
lived in the prophecies of inspired men among the Hebrew
7
people, he lived in all that was virtuous and intelligent, that
was like his gospel and like himself, among all' people.
Christ is to us at this moment no longer flesh, but a principle
of truth, duty and trust. So far then as that principle was
discerned and acted on, why may we not ascribe to him in that
sense a beins before he was manifest in the flesh ? We can
O
see something of him who was " the word of God," before
as well as since his full disclosure. I might illustrate this
idea thus. Moses, in his account of the creation, describes
the light as existing before the formation of the sun, and has
often been cavilled at for such a representation. But it is
the theory of one of the profoundest astronomers of modern
times, that the fiery elements of that great luminary were
diffused through space, ages before they were gradually
collected and condensed into its glowing sphere. May we
not imagine something similar of that moral sun, of which
Isaiah predicted that the " Gentiles should come to its
light, and kings to the brightness of its rising?"
Let us come now to considerations that are more plain
and direct. The Saviour that was so much needed, the
long expected king, was exhibited in the fulness of time to
the children of men. This fact seemed so leading a one to
the early church, that among the very first public ceremo¬
nies that they instituted was an annual commemoration of
it. In order to observe this in the most instructive manner,
they selected three points of the Scripture history, and in¬
cluded them all in one service of grateful remembrance.
These were the manifestation of Christ by his star to the
wise men of the East ; that by his baptism and the heavenly
testimony that accompanied it ; and that by the first of his
wonderful works at Cana of Galilee. I can perhaps adopt
no better method in presenting what I have further to say,
than simply to follow this ancient order.
Christ was manifested, then, by his star, by his baptism,
by his first miracle. He is thus the sent, the approved, the
8
empowered of God. He appears as teacher, saint, wonder¬
worker.
First, as teacher ; " preached unto the Gentiles, believed
on in the world." This was thought to be indicated by the
coming of the Arabian wise men to pay their homage. They
have been regarded as a sort of first fruits of the nations,
and symbols of the conversion of the world. They were
strangers and aliens. Their pleasant land lay at a dis¬
tance from the Jewish border. But they had seen a signal
in heaven, and they determined to follow whither it led.
The way did not seem long, nor the time lost, nor the peril
any thing. They passed the rocks and sands of the deserts,
the tents of Kedar and the " hills of robbers." They went
first to the capital of the land, for where but in its palaces
should its prince be born ? But when they found him not
there, and it was in a village and under a shed that what
they sought for was to be seen, it made no difference to
their devoted hearts. There, as freely as they would have
done in the halls of King Herod, they opened their fragrant
treasure boxes and presented their gifts. Here then was
the first manifestation of Christ, his condition helpless child¬
hood, but his sign a star.
The same singular combination of lowliness and glory
continued to be allotted to him while he remained on the
earth. Look at him in those outward accompaniments that
present themselves most obviously to human eyes and affect
most strongly vulgar judgments, and nothing could be
meaner. Look at him in his great endowments, and nothing
could be more divine. He was taken from the poor lodg¬
ing place where he was first laid, to grow up in adversity
and want, to be subjected to humble labors, and even sup¬
ported by the contributions of the grateful and kind ; but
a treasure and dignity more than of this world dwelt with
him, and his steps were still followed by an effulgence
from on high. His visible companions were men from the
9
/
lowest professions, but his unseen attendants were the
angels of God. He wandered from place to place and
was houseless, but his home was beyond the stars. He
descended as a pupil of John into the waters of Jordan,
but a voice from the skies proclaimed him the far greater
one, whose way John was sent to prepare. He died as a
slave, but the rocks were rent when he expired and the
heavens grew dark with their last testimony to his truth.
He was buried like a disappointed, defeated, murdered
man ; but it was to rise as a conqueror and to ascend as a
glorified spirit. And we may go beyond that. His name,
that was disdained among his own people, has been taken
up and exalted into a word of triumph and hope and joy
for the human race.
As he was displayed let him be received, separated from
all worldly expectations, passions, vanities ; with a spirit as
humble as his condition, and a hope as high as his revelation
of life. " He had no form nor comeliness, and when men
saw him there was no beauty that they should desire him."
There was no distinction about him but such as was of a
spiritual kind. He endured what we most faint at. He
was exposed to what we most dread. He condescended to
what the pride of human nature is most ready to despise.
And for what? To show us how empty are all outward
gauds and delights and honors ; how insignificant are all
the degradations in which there is no disgrace, and all the
suflerings in which there is no despair, when set by the
side of the substantial worth and joy of a faithful, confiding
soul. They have not seen him or known him, in whose
dispositions and affections all this is reversed ; who make
their Christian profession an associate of ostentation, strife,
vainglory ; who love nothing but what is easy and respect
nothing but what is lifted up ; who think only of external
appearance and fortune, disregarding the great realities that
2
10
lie within themselvea and beyond mortality, the noble mys¬
teries of their being, and the testimonies of eternal truth.
2. Christ is conceived to have been made manifest to
the nations by his baptism. There was reason for this.
The first public act of his life was his going to the river's
side, where multitudes were accustomed to resort that they
might hear the preaching of his austere forerunner, and
there openly to demand of him that initiatory rite. His
ministry dates from that moment ; a ministry that was to
be recorded in languages not then invented, and in those
that are now forgotten, and that was to carry its tidings of
deliverance down rivers and over seas that had then neither
name nor place on the map of the globe. The former in¬
stance in which the general attention was called to him was
independent of himself. He was then rm unconscious
child. He did nothing to kindle that guiding fire in the
sky, or to call the magian inquirers from their distant homes.
Here was an act of his own will. He had reached the
maturity of man's estate through gradual increases of wis¬
dom and stature. About thirty years had passed over him
of sober thought and laborious experience, of deeper and
deeper inspirations. No one knew him. No one asked
for him. No fresh embassy from the East came to seek
in the carpenter's son for " the desire of nations." The
vision of angels seems to have faded away from the memo¬
ries of men as it did among the gray clouds of the night.
The shepherds were growing old who heard the congratu¬
lating song in the air, and might have come to suppose that
they had but dreamed. The sayings that his wondering
mother kept in her heart were silently pondered there still.
Like John the Baptist, he may be said to have been "in
the deserts," —solitary, unnoticed, unfelt, "till the day of
his showing unto Israel." That day was at length come,
and he assumed meekly the wondrous office, which was to
produce effects not yet perhaps calculated on the communi¬
ties of the earth.
11
Two reflections arise out of this department of our subject.
One is that we should not grow despondent or unbelieving,
when the promises of the Almighty go slowly towards their
fulfilment. That is their chosen way of advancing. The
purposes of Heaven move not by starts nor act by surprises,
but prepare gradually their gracious consummations. Do
the Scriptures of the Old Testament describe an anxious
, looking for of the Christ of God? Those of the New
leave the space well nigh blank between the first days of his
infancy and the first of his sacred work. The old Israelite,
who " took him up in his arms" at his presentation in the
temple had long been gathered to his fathers, yet the pledge
remained unredeemed. The light that was to lighten the
Gentiles had parted with all the supernatural brightness
that was its harbinger, and nothing was left to represent it
but a young man, without pretensions, without power, un¬
heeded, unknown. But the hour arrived when he was no
longer tobe thus, and a new and splendid course was thence
begun in the influences of divine truth upon man. Let us
believe that so it will surely be with all the good intimations
that a merciful Providence vouchsafes. They may be dim¬
med and discouraged and deferred. But they shall come
forth from depression and forgetfulness, they shall come up
from the wilderness and the waters, crowned with benedic¬
tions.
The other thought proposed to be mentioned is this,
that there is no true manifestation of the gospel in us till
something has been done by our own free choice and en¬
deavor. Where would the Christian faith have been, if its
designated teacher had passed the rest of his life as far the
greater part of it was spent before, assuming nothing upon
himself, but trusting all to tiie prophecies that went before
his birth and the prodigies that hung over his cradle ? And
what will that same faith be to ourselves, if it is not manifest¬
ed in the bearing of its vows and the fulfilling of its right-
12
eousness ? The truth that hiis been revealed is not anything,
nor the training of sacred institutions, nor the prayers of
faithful men, nor the pointed finger of Providence, nor the
endowments of a gifted spirit, till we have put into exercise
the faculties and shown ourselves obedient to the call, that
the Lord has given us. The disciples must be as their mas¬
ter. Their light must shine before men. They must de¬
scend of their own accord into the baptism of his word, or
the spirit of its peace will not come down to abide upon
them.
3. The last point of Christ's manifestation to the Gen¬
tiles, is the beginning of his mighty works. To these he
was accustomed to appeal as evidences that he was sent.
" Believe me," he said to his countrymen, " for the works'
sake." And again, " If I had not done among them the
works which none other man did, they had not had sin."
The first of these, therefore, the conversion of water into
wine, was with great propriety selected to represent the
rest, not because it had any superior value in itself, but be¬
cause it was the first. They were testimonies to the men
of that day, the only one which the case admitted, of his
preternatural commission. And they have not ceased to be
testimonies to the men of our own day. Without them,
his name might have been held worthy among his contem¬
poraries, but would probably have stopped there, failing to
affect the belief of after ages. Without them, he might
have been an eminent reformer of his tribe, but not intense
and remarkable enough to become the light of the world.
Without them, he might have gathered a beautiful school,
but would scarcely have founded an impregnable church.
Think what lofty and comforting sentiments were an¬
nounced by the fine minds of the old world, in the most
finished language and under the most favored circumstances.
But who was there to vouch for them ? They were assail¬
ed by opposite speculations. They were thrown into doubt-
13
fulness by the fears, or into discredit by the infirmities of
those to whom they were addressed ; — while their gene¬
rous advocates died, and their memory with them, and little
was done in behalf of the great cause that they strove for
to the last. Some of them, indeed, obtained a wider cele¬
brity, and have kept it till now. But they who heard them
were more ready to respect them after they had gone than
to accredit them while they staid, and to set up their
statues in the public places than to establish their doctrine
within themselves, and to honor them because they beard
that they were distinguished than to yield to them because
they felt that they were right.
" Socrates," says Justin Martyr, "gave up his life for the
truth ; but who believed any the more that it was the truth
for which he became a victim ?" There is great force in
the remark. The people, indeed, after his death, were
convinced of his worth and his wrongs ; but where do we
hear that they were convinced of his doctrines ? His
accusers they banished and slew. But it was because they
had destroyed an innocent citizen, and not because they
had deprived the earth of a religious guide. His statue
was in the forum. But not an image of idolatrous worship
was displaced to make it room, and not a garland the less
was suspended upon the altars of pollution and shame.
Is there one here, who thinks he requires no miraculous
evidence in support of his religious convictions, who feels
satisfied with the proofs that the unaided mind can furnish
for itself? I will not assail him. I will not charge him with
throwing away all faith, because he is willing to receive it on
slighter grounds than we trust it is built on. I will congrat¬
ulate him that he feels his hope to be so sure. 1 will pray for
him, that his convictions may never become less dear among
the temptations, nor less steadfast among the convulsions of
life ; that his assurance of immortality may never grow
weak amidst the infirmities of nature, nor confused in the
u
whirl of dark thoughts, nor dim before the eyes that are
looking their last upon earthly things. I will wish that he
may never feel the want of that confirming power, which he
now fancies to be a useless gift and an uncertain supposi¬
tion. But let us profess for ourselves, that we needed
something more and have found it. We will own that we
love to trace our faith further than to the self-taught dic¬
tates of a refined intellect and an elevated heart ; even to
the Fountain of Inspiration. We do not value the gospel
merely as a natural gem of great price. We should fear
for it, unless we were persuaded that it had not its origin in
the dark earth or the restless waters, but in the heights of
heaven and in the spirit of God. We rejoice in those
unparalleled histories, in which all is so natural yet all
so marvellous, and the most artless simplicity is combined
with the most astonishing grandeur, and the form of our
faith is "manifest," — brought before our eyes with its
harmonious expression of mildness and strength, of sweet¬
ness and authority, the affections of humanity and the
radiance of higher worlds. We cannot and we would not
separate the instructions of Jesus from the mighty works
of the Christ. We dare not regard our immortal hopes
as anything less than reflections of that glory, which first
appeared in the parted heavens and was vouchsafed by a
divine agency to a bewildered race.
On the question of religion the human mind has always
loved to take refuge in authority. It asks not for reason¬
ings but for manifestations, not for probable conclusions but
a rooted faith. It pleads to be assured, to be shown the
truth as it has been seen in God,—to be told by one who
has received a commission to tell, that its best inferences
are no mistake and its best expectancies no delusion. Now
it is the miraculous character of Christ that has given to his
teaching this new advantage. It has infused this element of
strength into his word. It has turned the water into wine.
16
It has sent round the cheering of its cup for the hearts
of believers through all their generations.
Brethren, behold the gospel, which, by the grace of God
is preached unto you. Its ministering servants succeed
each other fast to the field of its labor, and to a grave in its
peace and hope. But the word neither dies nor alters.
Give it the grateful reverence that it claims.
CHARGE.
BY REV. DR PARKMAN, OF BOSTON.
Mt Christian Brother,—At your request, I rise to
offer you tlie charge, wliich^ is a received part of these
our ordination solemnities. But you will permit me, first,
to congratulate you on the good Providence that has gra¬
ciously conducted you hither, and invites you with this day
to renew the labors and satisfactions of the Christian minis¬
try among this people, and in this fair and promising field
of usefulness. The experience which you have already
had in a wide and arduous scene of labor renders it need¬
less for me to set before you duties and trials, dangers or
encouragements, which must already be familiar to your
thoughts. But, if I may employ the words without assum¬
ing the authority of an apostle, " we will not cease to put
you in remembrance of these things, though ye know them
and are even established in the truth."
For it belongs, my brother, to that ministry, which we
have received, and which it is our highest honor to serve,
that it loses nothing of its solemnity, responsibleness or im¬
portance with the progress of time or with the advancing
years and changes of its ministers. As He, who has given us
his word, abides the same, so the truths we preach, and
the obligations under which we stand, alike to the oldest
and to the youngest among us, are as unchangeable as they
are momentous ; and if there are dangers in the beginning of
8
18
our ministry, there are perhaps equal dangers in its pro¬
gress ; dangers that come with time and familiarity and the
delusive power of habit : from time, lest as it multiplies our
cares, it induce a worldliness of mind, that deadliest enemy
of the spiritual and above all of the ministerial life; lest it
quench the fervor of our youthful resolution, the purity
and tenderness of our first love; from familiarity and habit,
lest they beget insensibility to the great truths of God's
law, which it is our duty to announce, and to the solemn
events of God's Providence, which for others it is our
province to exhibit and improve. Nay, it pertains to
the dangers of our calling, that in proportion to the very
earnestness of official duty, to the occupation of mind in¬
dispensable to the discharge of public service, we may
become negligent of our own spiritual wants, and overlook
our own personal interest in the great salvation. So that
it is not without propriety, there may be even sad necessity
— and God save us, my brother, from becoming ourselves
the examples of so melancholy a necessity — that they,
who might seem from their term of service the most expe¬
rienced in the Christian ministry, may most need the
admonition once addressed by the spirit to the declining
church of Ephcsus, " I know thy work and thy labor and
thy patience. Nevertheless I have somewhat against thee.
Remember from whence thou hast fallen, and repent, and
do thy first works."
I need not remind you, my brother, that you are "sepa¬
rate" to the gospel ministry. This is a term of great signifi¬
cance, selected by the spirit of God to denote the evangelic
work, intimating at once its nature and spirituality. You are
separate, not from your fellow-creatures, for your office most
intimately connects you with them in sacred relations and
mutual hopes ; not certainly from any sympathies or offices
of our common humanity — for these are but the instru¬
ments of our usefulness ; nor yet from the exposures,
19
temptations, or sorrows of human life — for what man is
he that liveth and shall not see them—but from the vices
and corruptions of the world, from vain pursuit of its
riches, honors, or pleasures ; from fears of man that
ensnare, from hopes of man, that must be disappointed,
from secular employments that distract, from indolence
that rusts, and from passions that corrupt the soul. Of
the wisdom, with which the term is employed to mark our
office, I need not speak. For all history and experience
have attested, that in every age and under every aspect
of the church, they have most adorned their profession,
and made best proof of their ministry, who have been
most faithfully devoted to their work. And it is for us to
remember, who have enlisted in this spiritual warfare, that
no man that warreth entangleth himself with the things of
this life, that he may please him, who hath called him to be
a soldier.
Of the various duties of our profession, there are those
which by their nature are unchangeable, of equal and indis¬
pensable obligation upon all the servants of Jesus Christ,
wherever we are and under whatever circumstances
we may be placed. These enter essentially into the very
nature and end of our vocation, without diligent heed to
which, ts primary intention can never be fulfilled.
Of these it is our most obvious duty, that in which we
must especially seek to approve ourselves to God, and to
which all others must be auxiliary, — to " Preach the
Word." For even hereunto, my brother, are we called.
This is the peculiar office of the Christian ministry ; and
we must bring to it the choicest offerings of our souls, the
most faithful and industrious service of our lives. The
pulpit is eminently the theatre of the gospel, on which its
doctrines, duties, and sanctions must be exhibited, and
where it must be our first care, as it is also our distinguish¬
ed honor to " make manifestation of its truth." By read-
20
ing, nieditatioa and prayer ; by observation of nature and
the works of God ; by attentive study of the human heart,
the hidden springs and motives of human conduct; by
acquaintance with the various characters and conditions of
men to which our pastoral fidelity will specially contribute;
by an adequate survey of human learning, illustrating, as
it does, and establishing the records of inspired truth ;
above all, by devout study of the oracles of God, refer¬
ring ourselves to their unerring guidance, yielding ourselves
absolutely to their authority, we shall become able ministers
of the New Testament, and may hope to contribute some¬
thing at least to the intellectual and spiritual progress of
them, to whom we are sent.
But the most faithful preaching will not of itself avail.
Though you spoke, my brother, with the tongue of an angel,
and could spread before your people the collected wisdom
of ages, your ministry will be comparatively inefficacious,
unless you add to your labors as a preacher the fidelity,
watchfulness, and tenderness of a good pastor. No sooner
had the apostle charged his friend Timothy to preach
the word than he added, " Be instant in season and out of
season." I exhort you, therefore, to teach not only in this
consecrated temple, but from house to house. He that
would be a faithful minister must visit his flock. 1 know
that there are unreasonable expectations in relation to this
part of our duty, which not the most conscientious or
devoted pastor can meet ; expectations whose nature it is
to enlarge in proportion as they are gratified. I am aware
also, that there are diversities of gifts, as well as of
dispositions for this service, which it belongs to an affec¬
tionate people to consider ; for they are among the diver¬
sities of operation, by rvhich the Lord of the spirit and the
maker of our frames accomplishes his various designs.
But surely it is for us, my brother, to take heed that by no
negligence, or indolence, or selfish preference of personal
21
gratifications to duty, nor yet of the public to the private
labors of our ministry, we incur the condemnation of the
faithless shepherds of Israel. " The diseased have ye not
strengthened, neither have ye healed that which was sick,
neither have ye bound up that which was bruised, neither
have ye brought back that which was driven away." We
shall not fail to satisfy the requirements of an enlightened
conscience. With the good shepherd, who knows his
sheep and is known of them, we shall seek the wanderer,
we shall bind up the broken heart, we shall comfort them
that mourn, and speak peace to the wounded spirit. To
the aged and to the young, to the honorable and to the
obscure, to the rich in his fulness and to the poor in his
straits, to God's widowed and orphaned ones, we shall be
according to our various relations even as a son and a
brother, a father, counsellor and friend.
Above all, my brother, let me charge you as you desire
the efficacy of your ministry and the affection of your
flock, as you would maintain the answer of a good
conscience towards God, never suffer your people to
want you or wait for you in the seasons of their grief.
That is a fatal misapprehension of the duties of the ministry,
and betrays an unpardonable negligence and indifference
of spirit, that would make us slow or reluctant in the
chamber of sickness, in the house of mourning, or at the
bed of death. Be present there wherever else you must
be absent. Never sufter the humblest or the meanest to
complain with justice, that they are forgotten of their pastor
in their griefs. Let your ministry be like the blessed
gospel it proclaims or like the grace that ordained it, kind
even to the unthankful, and pitying them, who have none
else to pity them.
Let us be assured, my brother, that no time spent faith¬
fully and charitably in the house of sorrow is lost in our
preparation for the house of God. There is in truth adose
22
connexion as there is a reciprocal influence between the
services of the public teacher and the visits of the good
pastor. While your teachings from the pulpit will convey
their own authority and dignity to your familiar intercourse,
repressing idle gossip, " foolish talking and jesting, which,"
says an apostle, "are not convenient," — your friendly
intercourse, through the confidence it will inspire in the
trueness of your friendship and sincerity of devotion to your
flock will secure an interest for even your plainest public
instruction, will convert the indifferent into friendly and
attentive hearers ; and dispose them to regard with indul¬
gence— if indeed they should discover — those defects,
which the most conscientious and laborious minister amidst
various and indispensable duties must not seldom find
reason to lament.
And even should these our pastoral labors sometimes
encroach upon the hours we would gladly consecrate to
study, to the gratification of a refined and intellectual taste,
or to what might be deemed the most agreeable and
profitable intercourse of society, who that has enlightened
his conscience, who that is animated by a hearty " love of
souls," will doubt for a moment what engagements he should
prefer, or whither duty should lead ?
These considerations, at all times momentous and
worthy to command our earnest self-application, acquire,
I apprehend, an additional interest from the aspect of the
times and the circumstances under which we stand. The
period in which you have consented to renew your minis¬
try is a period undeniably of difficulty and hazard. That
which once seemed stable is fluctuating, and a large
surface in our ecclesiastical condition is exposed to
change. The supports of law for the institutions of
religion are withdrawn ; and both the ministry and the
churches, the order of God's house and the worship
of the temple must henceforth be sustained by the volun-
23
tary zeal, the faith and reverence of the people. Who
shall abide this trial but the faithful, diligent, conscientious
pastor ? who but the believing, serious and united flock ?
The people must feel, that they need us; that they
cannot and ought not do without us ; that Christianity, in
its ministry and its ordinances not less than in its written
truth, is essential to the peace and prosperity of a nation ;
to the order of communities; to the happiness of their
families ; to their joy in prosperity, to their solace in grief ;
to the welfare, present and eternal of their immortal souls.
We charge you, therefore, my brother, — yet not we,
but one mightier than we, whose servants we are, and in
whose name we speak, — to make full proof of your min¬
istry. Study to show yourself approved of God. Warn
the unruly, comfort the feeble minded, support the weak, be
patient towards all men, and may the God of peace, who
brought again from the dead our Lord Jesus Christ, that
great shepherd of the sheep, make you perfect in every
good work to do his will, working in you that which is
well pleasing in his sight, through Jesus Christ, to whom
be glory forever.
JIÍGHT HAND OF FELLOWSHIP.
BY REV. MR CUNNINGHAM, OP DORCHESTER.
On me. Sir, devolves the pleasant duty of giving you, in
the name of these assembled churches, the Right Hand of
Fellowship. Take it as the pledge of our sympathy and
interest in your labors, as well as of our co-operation
with you wherever it may be desired ; and may the bless¬
ing of Heaven rest on you and those with whom you are
now to be connected ; may you long be bound together in
the closest bonds of Christian love, and grow daily in the
knowledge and love of God, and of his Son Jesus Christ
our Lord.
On my personal gratification and pleasure in welcoming
you here as a new neighbor, I may not dwell — I know I
need not dwell. I stand here as the representative of the
churches, to offer you their fellowship and must speak in
their name. In reflecting what this fellowship is and what
I ought to say, I can think, no words better fitting this
occasion and the relations in which we all stand to each
other, than those of the Apostle John. If we walk in the
light, we have fellowship one with another." We make no
conditions. We bind you to no creed. We ask of you
only to walk in the light — the glorious light of the Sun of
Righteousness ; to shun the darkness ; to follow with a
single eye after the truth. And we pledge ourselves, be¬
fore God, whithersoever it may lead you, though your paib
25
may diverge wide from ours, still to extend to you the right
hand of fellowship ; and when we can no longer reach you,
to bid you God speed. Ah, my brother, how difficult this
principle in practice. How hard is it for any of us to be¬
lieve that those who walk away from us, are not straying
out of the light ; that they can see where we are blind.
As the principle professed by these churches, it ought,
however, to be distinctly recognised in all their public acts.
We welcome you as a brother, but as a brother whose
birthright we dare not touch. We exhort you to keep it
even from us, if at some future time we should seem to ap¬
proach it.
And here I might stop, but that one thing seems neces¬
sary to explain and qualify, though not to limit, what I have
said. It may be said too, in the words of the Apostle
when describing his own reception to the fellowship of the
churches : " Only we would that you should remember
the poor" I mean " the poor in spirit:" the babes in Christ.
Feed them not with meat when they want milk. Give
them not roots for green leaves. I mean still more, those
who are hungry and thirsting after the living bread and
water. Feed them not with chaff. If ever a burden was
laid upon men to preach the Gospel, the pure unadulterated,
refreshing, life-giving Gospel, it is on us. For what else
have we thrown down the barriers that surrounded the well-
spring of life, but that its pure waters might burst forth and
flow over for all to drink 1 Wo to us if we preach not the
Gospel ! If we make it not effective in changing men's
hearts ! Who shall believe that we ■" walk in the light" if
we lead others into darkness 1 what responsibility then
rests upon us. " If the salt have lost its savor, wherewith
shall it be salted 1"
But I detain you too long. Let me end as I began, by
saying to you in the name of these churches, that you are
4
26
most welcome amongst us, and that we deeply rejoice to see
you once more taking upon you the duties of the pastoral
office. May He, from whom all good counsels and all
worthy thoughts do proceed, let his blessing rest upon you
and this people, and prosper you through the Gospel of his
Son, our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ.
ADDRESS TO THE SOCIETY.
BY REV. MR GANNETT, OF BOSTON.
Fellow Christians of this Church and Society, —
At your request the ecclesiastical council assembled on
this occasion have by the usual services set apart our
brother to the ministry of the gospel among you. And
now in compliance with a similar request do they through
me express to you their sympathy and convey to you
their counsel. They rejoice with you in this auspicious
hour. The good providence of God having placed before
you one in whom your hearts could unite, we are glad
that you have called him to exercise his gifts permanently
among you, that in co-operation with him under whose
ministry you have long sat he may confirm you in the
faith of the gospel and in the experience and hope of
eternal life. Proffering you, brethren, our cordial congrat¬
ulations, we ask you also to listen to the words of our
anxious regard. Let us speak plainly, Christian friends,
for the truth's sake : let us speak with earnestness, from
the love that we bear you. We could say much, for it is a
great theme which you have put into our lips : we shall
say what the time will permit of what the times demand.
First then, we exhort you to consider the connexion
this day sealed a permanent connexion. Regard it as
made by you and your children on the one part, and by this
your servant in the Lord on the other, for life. Let the
28
language of your hearts on this occasion be that of the
marriage covenant — mutual love and fidelity we promise
till God in his holy providence may separate us by death.
The fashion of the hour is adverse to this doctrine. It is
not the less true, because it has been said till it has sunk
into a commonplace, that we live in an age of change.
Instability is one of the characteristics of our times ; and a
bad feature it is. Let us preserve the institutions of
religion from its presence. If the bond between minister
and people be of so loose a nature that a breath of dissatis¬
faction may dissolve it, it will soon be a question whether
it be worth forming. The itinerancy of the Methodist
Church, I am persuaded, is a better arrangement than the
system which is growing up among the Congregationalists
— Orthodox no less than Unitarian — of New England,
and in some measure among the Presbyterians, and the
Episcopalians even of the United States. Brethren of this
society, there is your minister. You have asked us to
invoke the blessing of God upon your union. We have
done it ; and now we say unto you — Hold this union
sacred—break it not for a slight cause. He gives you
his heart ; beware how you throw that heart, after a little
curious inspection and some rough handling, upon the
world's pity.
The efficacy of your minister's labors will depend very
much upon the manner in which they are entertained by
you. It is a sad mistake, though far from uncommon, to
suppose that the clergyman alone is to blame for the defi¬
ciency of religious character among his people. They
must do something, or they will get no good from his
instructions, be those instructions ever so sound or ever
so fervent. They must come, they must listen, they must
remember, they must practise ; on he might as well be
quarrying the insensible granite on yonder hill — he might
better be praying in his closet for them, than preaching,
29
whether lo those who cannot hear, because they are not
within the reach of his voice, or who will not hear be¬
cause they prefer to sleep, or who hear only to forget or to
disregard. An apostle or an angel might preach under such
circumstances without effect. Come, Christian friends, to
this house of your solemnities regularly and punctually.
Do not let an excuse which would not satisfy you for neg¬
lecting any of your secular engagements be accounted
sufficient to justify your remaining at home on Sundays.
Do not choose this day for visiting your friends in a neigh¬
boring town or for being sick, because you " cannot spare
the time" to be sick or to take a ride on any other day.
You can spare the time better on any other day than this.
Be constant in your attendance upon the services of this
house: we do not say, for his sake who will stand in this
pulpit; but for your own sakes — as you love your own
souls.
In the pulpit let your minister tell you the truth. Allow
him freedom alike in his inquiries after the truth and in the
utterance of it. Ask him neither to be the copyist of other
minds nor the reflection of your own. Let him speak out
himself. You have not invited him to occupy this place that
he may be the echo of the opinions and sentiments that are
popular with yourselves ; or if you have called him hither
with such a purpose, the sooner you find that you have mis¬
taken the man, the better. God forbid that he should ever
be afraid to say to you what he thinks you ought to hear.
Better that his tongue should be palsied with disease than
his heart with the fear of man. The motto of the knight
of chivalry should in both respects describe the character
of every Christian minister, " fearless and irreproachable."
The clergyman who must consult the humors of his con¬
gregation and shape his sermon to their notions works in
chains ; he does nothing heartily, he does nothing well. His
situation is neither enviable nor tolerable. The dungeons
30
of an Austrian fortress would be preferable to his pulpit.
Let your minister enjoy independence of thought and
expression ; let hirn present the doctrine which he gathers
from the oracles of truth ; let him inculcate the practice
which he believes is required of Christian disciples;
let him give forth his honest convictions and his deep
feelings, though they startle many a prejudice and rebuke
many a sin in your bosoms. If " an honest man" be the
" noblest work of God," a dishonest minister is the vilest
work of human creation.
Do not estimate the value of the discourses which you
shall hear from this place by the evidence which they may
give of rhetorical skill or of a rich imagination. Value
them according to their suitableness to make you better.
Truth is sometimes injured by ornament, as in paintings
the representation of the Saviour is made less impressive
by the rays with which a false taste has encircled his head.
The most effective sermons — and the merit of a sermon
consists in its power of producing results — the most
effective sermons have always been the plainest. Yet do
not expect that your minister can preserve a uniformity of
excellence in his discourses. It is demanding an impossi¬
bility. The mind has its variations —even more than the
body — more inscrutable, more uncontrollable. Think
but for a moment of the injustice of requiring one mind to
furnish a perfect oration every week month after month,
and year after year. Why, Pharaoh laid no such task
upon the children of Israel !
In the private intercourse which your minister shall main¬
tain with you encourage him to use the utmost frankness
and cordiality. Repose in him full confidence. If he
abuse it, he will fall so low as to deserve your pity more
than your censure. Treat him as your friend, and let him
treat you as friends. Now a friend who will never tell us
our faults is not worth loving or keeping. Be not then
31
offended, 'when he exercises this privilege of friendship.
Above all, let him hold free conversation with you on the
subject of your religious wants and ways. Let his visits be
something more than agreeable calls ; let them be occa¬
sions of spiritual improvement. It is not altogether the
fault of the clergy, that so little good comes from the private
intercourse between minister and people. Much of the
difficulty of which many are ready to complain, and which
all should regret, must be ascribed to the latter. If they
always leave it to the former to introduce the subject of
religion, or if when it is brought forward they immediately
assume an air of constraint, and instead of a pleasant inter¬
change of thought the remarks of the visitor be made,
however much against his will, to wear the aspect of a pri¬
vate homily, how can we wonder if he be discouraged, and
gradually, or perhaps unconsciously restrict himself to the
style of conversation which alone the parishioners seem to
enjoy. And what is then the result ? A people without
religion, and a minister without influence, — a church
like that of Sardis of old, " having a name that it lives,
but is dead." Brethren, dread such a condition more than
you would dread the prevalence of a fatal disease in your
town. By open and confidential communication with
your pastor sustain him, stimulate him if he need excite¬
ment, reward him if he be faithful in his office of parochial
minister. Inform him of your spiritual state — of your
doubts and fears, of your purposes and hopes, of your
experience of the power of truth, of your progress in the
spiritual life. The religious character is nourished by
conversation as much as the plants by the dew. They
need the sunshine and the rain, together with the nutri¬
ment that they draw from the bosom of the earth ; and so
must the sentiments of a holy character be fed with
sustenance from the soul whence they spring, and be
supplied with the more obvious means of growth—the
32
privileges and trials of condition ; but as the former, so
likewise these latter thirst for the refreshment which
distils upon them in yet gentler influences.
We would urge you to co-operate with your minister in
the support of those measures which he may deem of
general importance. Concur with him in upholding insti¬
tutions by which the interests of truth and virtue, the se¬
curity of social order and the advancement of the social
state may be promoted. The philanthropy of the day
deserves your attention, and if properly regarded must
awaken your sympathy» It is a philanthropy which has
had so rapid growth, that it may need pruning, and there
may be danger of its overshadowing some of the more
humble manifestations of private worth ; but it has a sound
root and a healthful trunk. Some persons seem to regard
it as an exotic, but I hold that it is indigenous to the soil of
Christian character. The fears which are entertained on
this subject are extravagant, and appear hardly less absurd
than those of a man who should deny himself food lest he
should sometimes eat to excess, or should refuse to alarm
his neighbor whose house was on fire lest he should be
guilty of an intrusion upon his privacy. The principle of
association is abroad, and it is a good principle ; men find
it good in worldly concerns. Chrisfian benevolence would
take advantage of it; — Christian benevolence, whose in¬
stinct is social. The hostility, the distrust, the reluctance,
the apathy, which distinguish some portions of the Chris¬
tian body in respect to co-operation for the wider or deeper
influence of whatever is sound in theology or correct m
morals, cannot but be sources of regret, if not of amazement,
to those who believe Christianity ought to seize on the char
acteristics of the age, be they what they may, and subject
them to her own purposes. Nothing has ever been better
settled by experiment, than that personal excellence is
aided by participation in plans of social improvement.
33
is too late to insist upon the opposite doctrine. No truth
is more obvious than that love is diffusive, and no position
can be taken on firmer ground than that truth and good
must be spread by human agencies. I wonder much how
the improvement of the world would go on, if just where
things now are the intelligent and virtuous should stand
O o
upon the doctrine of isolation, and leave the ignorant and
vicious to take care of themselves without help and
without sympathy. Spirit of Jesus, save us from such a
period 1 Brethren, we exhort you to send abroad your
anxieties, and to extend your labors in behalf of your
fellowmen. Let your minister find in you cordial sup¬
porters of every measure and every institution by which
knowledge may be diffused, faith implanted, vice re¬
strained, or piety invigorated.
Let your minister have your cheerful and effectual aid
in his endeavors to lead up your children to the stature of
perfection in Christ Jesus. Regard with sincere delight
his efforts to teach their eager minds and to impress their
ductile hearts. But do not leave to him the whole work
of forming their religious characters. The chief glory
and great responsibleness belong to you. Especially let us
entreat and charge you, —in the same spirit of fidelity in
which we have charged our brother not to neglect the
young of the flock let us charge you,—not to counteract his
exertions by your own counsels and examples. Let not
the influences of the sanctuary and the influences of the
household stand in contrast with one another. For your
children's sake, if not for your own, cultivate family
religion. Be the voice of praise and prayer heard in your
dwellings, and the language of Christian truth familiar
to all their inmates. Nourish in the young bosoms that
will beat in unison with your own an interest in spiritual
things. Call forth the moral nature, give it exercise,
enlighten it, fortify it, and let the spirit of childhood
5
S4
batlie daily in the fountain of salvation. Give to the
Sunday school your warm support. Do not let this insti¬
tution, one of the best gifts of modern times to society^
do not let it languish. With the faithful parent, it will
neither prevent nor hinder his own instruction. It will
not hinder it ; for how can an hour or two in the week
spent with other teachers deprive a child of a single lesson
from parental lips. It will not prevent it; for what father
or mother that cares for the eternal well-being of their
offspring would allow the attendance of their children
upon other instructers to be a justification of their own
negligence. No ; the domestic culture will be most
assiduous where the parochial assistance is most gladly
received, while on the other hand those children who have
the best discipline at home will be placed with the freest
sympathy under the influences of pastoral care and ten¬
derness.
Finally and chiefly, brethren, we exhort you to cultivate
personal religion ; for this is the one thing needful, and this
it is without which on your part your minister's life will be
disappointment and grief. Now this he cannot give you ;
he cannot be good for you, nor make you good against your
own wills. You must "purify your own souls in obeying the
truth." He will preach and pray and talk with you, and
make all his studies and all his thoughts conduce to your
edification. I do not say to you, be slow to call upon him
for professional services. On the contrary I say, and I be-
jieve it is what he would wish a friend to say who should
speak for him, call upon him continually for ministerial duty.
Do not consume his time with idle interruptions, do not
visit him only that you may inspect his domestic economy,
nor invite him to your houses only that you may entertain
him with the frivolities of this world's hospitality. But
never hesitate to ask his sympathy or advice in regard to
your spiritual state. Let him do you all the good he can.
35
Give him frequent opportunity in private as well as in
public. Still he can only assist you. He cannot perform
your work. And now, fellow Christians, what is that work?
It is your own sanctification. It is your entrance and
perseverance upon the path of eternal life. It is self-con¬
quest, self-discipline, self-perfection. This is your work ^
and we beseech you to take it up and give your strength
to it. You have this day solicited our help in establishing
among you yet more securely the ministry of the gospel of
Christ; and you have by this act certified your acknow¬
ledgment of Christ as your Master. This Master requires
of you obedience. He died for you. You have kissed
" Those blessed feet,
Which eighteen hundred years ago were nailed,
For our advantage, to the bitter cross."'
Is it the kiss of traitors which you have given ? Have
you cried " Hail, Master ! ' in the cars of the world, only
that you might make your hypocrisy more notorious ? May
God save you from such guilt ! May your own desire of
safety, your own sense of obligation, save you from it.
But, brethren, you can avoid such guilt only by following
the commandments of the crucified Saviour. Hear ye not
the words of his apostle ? " We are buried with him by
baptism into death, that like as Christ was raised up from
the dead by the glory of the Father, even so we also should
walk in newness of life." They come down to us through
the long course of ages, but they have as distinct a meaning
and as solemn an appeal for us as for the contemporaries of
Paul. We too are redeemed from darkness by the mission
of the Son of God. We build our hope of heaven on the
words which he spoke. We look to his character as the
brightest manifestation of the Invisible One, and to his life
as the model by which vye should form ourselves.
Moreover, brethren, there is a peculiar obligation upon
36
us to present before men the loveliness of the Christian
character. For we belong to a portion of the Church of
the Lord Jesus which is traduced by its opposers. Our
doctrines are misrepresented, our arguments will not be
heard with candor, our good name is aspersed. What can
we do for the faith that we profess, and that I hope we
'ove as God's best gift to our souls, what can we do for
it but live according to its instructions? What more can
we do, did I say? I should not have asked that question.
We can do much. We can avow and defend and in many
ways recommend our faith, and in spite of evil tongues and
suspicious hearts and countless hosts it will spread. We
can send it abroad on the wings of the wind, and God will
give it a resting-place and a fruitful germination. But we
can do nothing so effectual as our exemplification of its in¬
fluence in our daily lives will be. We can use that argu¬
ment before which even prejudice must succumb — the
argument of holy living, the best preparation for the next
most convincing argument—that of holy dying. Let us
live as Christians and die as Christians, and though we may
not see the good wdiich we shall do, a persuasion will go
forth from our familiar walks, and a voice will speak from
our deathbeds, which will gather thousands into the em¬
brace of the same precious truth with ourselves. Oh, what
can we desire in preference — what shall we place in com¬
parison with this power of usefulness through the efficacy
of personal goodness? Riches — houses, lands and money?
No, no. We are too wise to exchange a diamond fora
bauble. Let us but open our eyes and see things as they
are, and we shall choose that good part which cannot be
taken from us.
Besides, brethren, to add one word more, upon us devolve
great responsibilities. We live in the midst of a solemn
crisis. And who, under Providence, shall take the direction
8r#ae world's destinies ? I know not who, if it be not they
37
who have gone before their fellows in the discovery of the
truth, and are willing to hold it up as a light to the multi¬
tudes and the generations that are following on. I do not
believe that God ever laid a weightier charge upon any
body of men since the times of the apostles than rests on
us. If we supinely neglect it, we shall bring shame upon
ourselves and disaster on the world. If we will come up
to the work of the Lord, and deport ourselves like men
and Christians, we may be the benefactors of our race, and
our example descend like a sweet fragrance to future times.
God help us to understand and discharge our obligations !
One thing is plain — that unless we are upright and devout
men, full of faith and good works, we shall be false to our
high position, and bury our memories in everlasting re¬
proach.
Christian friends, I have spoken of some of the duties
which the times press on your attention. Let our words
be received with kindness. And now let us utter our fare¬
well wishes. The blessing of Almighty God, the Father of
our Lord Jesus Christ, be with you. May he join your
hearts with the heart of our brother in the bond of an in¬
dissoluble love. May your lives run on harmoniously
together, ye being strengthened and comforted in one
another. May the last years of our respected friend to
whom this day gives an associate in his labors be his best
days. And hereafter may we all—ministers and people —
you and we, with them too whom we represent, be found
in the congregation of the sons of God before the eternal
mercy-seat.
ORDER OF SERVICES.
1. ANTHEM.
Now elevate the sipi of Judah, now elevate the banner, call it forth in Zioa.
O desert us not, O Lord ; thou art always gracious to thy servants. Thou art
our God, O Lord of hosts ; so will we praise thee, 0 God and lord of hosts.
Amen.
a. INTRODUCTORY PRAYER AND SELECTIOMS FROM
SCRIPTURE,
DY EEV, G. WHITNEY, OF BOXBOEY.
3. HYMN,
BY ME F. A. WHITNEY.
All-seeing One ! whose presence fills
The glorious earth thy children tread.
Unseen, the sacred shrine be near.
To which our gathering steps have led.
The sacred shrine,
Great God, be near.
And, as we bend, the offering hear.
We turn to thee, in humble trust,
With prayer and praise, our heavenly friend,
That on this hour thy smiles may rest.
Thy choicest influence may descend.
Oh let thy smiles.
Great God, here rest.
Thy blessing, and we shall be blessed.
Lo, where thy elder servant stood
Through changing years, there stiU he stsuidi ;
To aid him in the sacred cause.
Another comes with youthful hands.
Him aid. Great God,
That sacred cause
Pursuing still by Heaven's own laws.
Oh bless him. Father, bless him now
With faith and truth and hope and peace.
And as his years shall onward roll
Let not thy saving mercy cease.
As years shall roll.
Great God, increase
His ardor and his usefulness.
39
And when at last he binds his sheaves,
His harvest labors o'er and blest,
The golden grain. Pure One, receive.
And call the reaper to his rest.
The golden grain.
Great God, receive.
As pastors flocks and temples leave.
4. SERItlOX,
st eev. mr frothincham, OF bostok.
6. PRAYER OP INSTAtl-ATION,
st rev. mr whitney, of oüinct.
6. CHARGE,
by rey. dr parkman, of boston.
7. RIGHT HAND OP FELI,OWSHIP,
bt rev. mr cdnningham, op dorchester.
8. HYMN,
by rev. mr frothingham.
We meditate the day
Of triumph and of rest ;
When shown of God and shaped in clay
The Word was manifest.
The angels saw and sung ;
Earth listened far and wide ;
Believed and preached, — a faith, — a tongue.
The Word was glorified.
Lord ! give it gracious sweep.
And here its errand bless.
Whose mercy sent it o'er the deep
To glad a wilderness.
Ray out its starry* light
To guide our pilgrim way ;
A sign of hope through this world's night.
And brighter than its day.
Again thy witness-voice !
Again thy spirit-dove
That hearts may in its trust rejoice,
And »often with its Iovd.
40
Send round its blessed cup*
As once in Galilee ;
And catch our dull affections up
To Heaven and Christ and Thee.
9. ADDRESS TO THE SOCIETY,
BY BEV. MB GANNETT OF BOSTON.
10. C0IirCI.UDII«O PRATER,
BY BEY. MB HONTOON OF MILTON.
11. ANTHEM.
Glory be to God on high and on earth peace, good will towards men. We
praise Thee; we bless Thee; we worship Thee; we glorify Thee; we give
thanks to Thee for thy great glory ; O Lord, God, heavenly King, Father Al¬
mighty! Glory be to God on high. Hallelujah, Amen.
Iii. BENEDICTION.
♦ One of the ancient symbols, in the church, of Christ's manifestation to the nation!.
A
SERMON,
DELIVERED IN QUINCY ON THE LORD'S DAY, JUNE r, 1835, A. M.
BT WIBMAM P. liUIffT,
Junior Pastor of the First Congregational Church in Quincy.
PUBLISHED BT BEUUEST.
6
SERMON.
2 PETER, i. 12.
WREBEFOaS I WILL NOT BE NEGLIGENT TO PUT YOU ALWAYS IN BEMEM*
BBANCE OF THESE THINGS, THOUGH YE KNOW THEM, AND BE ESTABLISHED
IN THE PRESENT TRUTH.
The Christian ministry was instituted, among other ob¬
jects, to be a memorial of the great and solemn truths of
religion.
We know not how soon a practical belief in such truths,
and the influence exerted by them, might be lost out of the
world, were there not some standing institutions, like the
weekly Sabbath, the celebration of public worship in
churches set apart from common purposes, and consecrated
to holy meetings ; or a body of men maintained for the
express purpose of devoting themselves to the study and
inculcation of divine truth ; men who, freed from secular
cares, and not walking in the dusty highway of life, nor
mingling with the rushing crowd in their eager scrambles
for wealth, place and power, may pursue a by-path of their
own, catching glimpses of Truth in her most private retreats,
and listening for that still, small voice which she utters only
to the calm, meditating soul.
The scoffer and sceptic, and sometimes even the believer,
in an unreflecting hour, or when in a desponding mood, are
ready to ask what good is effected by these institutions ; or
what harm would ensue, should they be discontinued or
neglected. The philosopher, in love with some theory of
4)4»
his own for improving the condition of society, and dis¬
trusting, perhaps contemning, established usages, because
of their commonness and simplicity, will turn away from
you when you argue for the usefulness, the vital importance
of Christian institutions. You recollect, my hearers, in the
Old Scriptures, the striking story of Naaman, the leper*
This captain of the king of Syria's host was afflicted with
a most loathsome disease, common in the countries of the
East. Having heard of the prophet Elisha, in Samaria, he
obtained permission of his king to visit him. He journeyed,
it seems, in a style suited to his rank and station ; became,
we are told, " with his horses and with his chariot, and
stood at the door of the house of Elisha." The prophet of
Jehovah, with that indifference to worldly pomp and parade
which the religious sentiment, when fully unfolded, is ever
likely to produce, did not even step to the door to receive
the haughty invalid ; but sent a message to him that he
should repair to Jordan, and wash in its stream, if he would
be cured. At this he was wroth. His personal pride was
hurt, that he was treated with no more deference by the
prophet; and his pride of country was offended, because
Jordan was preferred to Abana and Pharpar, those noble
streams that watered his own Damascus. It was a simple
remedy which the prophet proposed ; there was too little
of circumstance in it to please one whose imagination had
been dazzled by Eastern splendor and parade. But it was
an effectual remedy, as he found, when his pride was suffi¬
ciently humbled to allow him to resort to it. And it is the
same often with social distempers. Men are apt to under¬
value those simple customs which, as experience has proved,
are suited to preserve the health of the community. It
true, there is often a difficulty in measuring the amount of
direct, visible benefit derived from the Christian institutions.
And the conscientious and faithful minister of Christ, m
particular, is tempted to despair of seeing any fruit of his
45
labor. But this seems to be part of the allotment of Prov¬
idence to men. It seems to be part of the discipline
assigned them, that they must labor without always enjoy¬
ing the satisfaction of witnessing the good results of their
toil. Still they may comfort themselves with the persua¬
sion, that a very considerable amount of good is accom¬
plished, when those institutions, which serve as so many
memorials of religion, are barely preserved. The entire
amount of good, of which these are instrumental, cannot be
estimated. We may form some idea respecting it, by attend¬
ing to our thoughts and emotions, and tracing them to their
exciting causes. If we will but reflect, then, how strong is
sometimes the impression produced upon the mind by so
simple a circumstance as the tolling of church bells, on a
calm Sabbath morning, or what a gush of fervent feeling is
not unfrequently sent through the heart by the sight of the
church where our fathers for many generations have wor¬
shipped— if we will attend, I say, to these comparatively
small things in our mental experience, and will consider
how many thousands and tens of thousands throughout
Christendom are affected in like manner, silently, but most
powerfully, we can judge with some accuracy how much
good the Christian institutions are doing, regarded simply
as mementos of religion. There is in them a natural lan¬
guage, which speaks directly to the human heart. There
needs not the intervention of arbitrary signs, which men
have agreed to adopt, as expressive of thought and emotion.
The object without, as it meets the eye, awakens immedi¬
ately the corresponding sentiment ; and a more powerful
sentiment it is often, than any eloquence of mere words
can inspire. It was on this principle, as is well known,
that the Jewish ceremonies were instituted. Many of them,
such, for instance, as the passover, were strictly commem¬
orative ; all were designed and calculated to suggest to the
mind of a Hebrew his obligations to Almighty God, and to
46
remind him how much had been done for his nation. When
the Israelite presented himself, at stated times in the course
of the year, at the temple in Jerusalem, the sight of that
magnificent pile, erected in honor of Abraham's God, must
have filled his soul immediately with ideas and feelings
which the most learned and eloquent of the Jewish doctors
might have failed to excite by any language, however fitly
chosen.
What are the things of which the apostle is anx¬
ious to put his followers in remembrance? Faith, vir¬
tue, knowledge, temperance, patience, godliness, brotherly
kindness, charity. And these are the themes upon which
the minister of Christ will still discourse.
The language of the apostle in the text deserves notice.
It is courteous, respectful, affectionate. It suggests a re¬
mark which the general tenor of the New Testament will
bear out as true, viz. that the earliest followers of Jesus
assume no authority to themselves arrogantly ; they evince
no disposition to magnify their office, to challenge the
respect of men ; they do not appear like common men,
when in possession of office and authority ; they show no
jealousy lest they should be neglected or disobeyed ; least
of all, have they any of that overbearing, haughty tone
which the impostor assumes towards his duped disciples.
The apostles of Christ were " men of like passions" with
others. They had originally the same love of power, the
same jealousy of interference, the same ambition and pride
as other men. Before they had taken lessons of a celestial
virtue in the school of Christ, their passions were as tower¬
ing and craving as those of their countrymen. Witness
the occasion when they contended which of them should
be greatest in the kingdom of heaven ; and also when they
were ready to call down fire from heaven upon their ene¬
mies. The meekness, humility, modesty, which are ever
attendants upon real authority, were, however, at length
acquired by them. Let it be borne in mind that these
47
qualities were acquired in their case ; that they learned
them from the teachings and example of Jesus ; that they
were not the native growth of their hearts, but the fruit of
Christian cultivation.
The text proves that these qualities were possessed by
Peter in an eminent degree. Highly distinguished by his
master among his fellow-disciples, singled out from the rest
as the foundation rock of the Christian church, an ardent,
passionate man in his temperament, we yet find Peter
speaking to his converts in the affectionate and courteous
terms of the text, reminding them of the important things
of religion, lowering himself to an equality with them, and
speaking like a brother interested in their welfare. A de¬
ceiver would not have been likely to assume this tone and
manner. There is a selfishness in deceit, which prompts it
to demand all the homage and personal adulation and servile
respect which it can obtain.
The text well expresses the object for which the Christian
ministry was established in the world. Not that the proud
ecclesiastic may " lord it over God's heritage," not that he
may unlock the doors of heaven to admit whom he will,
but simply that he may put his fellow-men in remembrance
of the things which concern their spiritual welfare. The
modest and delicate manner of the apostle in the text, is a
rebuke to those who would dictate to their brethren what
they should believe ; who are not content faithfully to set
forth the truth, and honestly. Sincerely exhort to the practice
of righteousness ; but, impatient of the slow process of
reason and persuasion, would force men in a summary way
into the kingdom of heaven.
It is not to impart new knowledge, that the Christian
ministry is most needed and valuable. But it is to remind
men of what they already know ; to hold up in some new
form, it may be, or to set in a more striking light, if possible,
the most familiar truths and facts ; to press home upon the
48
vwnscience considerations and motives which have been
repeatedly presented ; to tell men >vhat they themselvep
know ; to interpret their own consciousness ; to put in a
distinct form, and clothe in words, what has long lain in
their minds without order and arrangement. Nor is it an
unimportant task, or one unworthy of the highest talents,
thus to mould into new shapes the commonest thoughts
and principles. He who can throw light upon those dar|c
masses of thought, over which the intellect sometimes
broods without satisfaction, or can restore harmony and
peace to those feelings which have been agitated, torn and
jarred almost to madness on the great themes of religion,
will accomplish no small amount of good. In the head-
work and the heart-work of religion, we all need the aid
and sympathy of others.
It will be the office of the Christian minister to remind
his flock of that commonest of all facts, and least heeded,
too, their mortality. The ancient Egyptians, we are told,
introduced a skeleton in the midst of their feasts, in order
to temper the gaiety of their guests, by the ghastly symbol
of mortality. And one of the ancient kings was continually
attended by a monitor, who repeated in his ears, "Remem¬
ber that thou art mortal." There was something strange,
you will say, in these modes of effecting the object. True.
Perhaps they were suited to the times, or to the particular
circumstances then existing. Modes are temporary, contin¬
ually changing, and giving place to others. But the senti¬
ment is unchanging which they were designed to express.
Man's mortality, the uncertainty of life, the transitory
nature of all this world contains, these are the greatest
common-places in morality. They are so, it is granted.
And yet, perhaps, they contain as much of wholesome
virtue, and exert as large an amount of restraining, subdu¬
ing influence, as any considerations that can be presented
to the mind. Since the sentence was first passed upf®
49
man,ï)ust thou art, and unto dust thou shalt return,"
there has crossed the stage of being no generation, no indi¬
vidual, that has not felt the force of this simple, but most
solemn truth. It has been uttered in the ears of the great
ones of the earth, and they have felt their thrones tottering
beneath them, and " the fine gold has grown dim " in their
sight. It has been as effectual as any truth, perhaps, in
bringing low the pride of ambition, in cooling the fire of
lust, in moderating inordinate appetite, in qualifying the
fell spirit of revenge, and in loosening the determined grasp
of miserly avarice. The proud monarch of Persia was
humbled only by the reflection that death would mow down
his brilliant ranks of troops, and leave not one for another
century to behold. The solemn truth was first uttered by
God himself to Adam, and not a heart since but has quaked
under its influence. Nor is the force of the lesson lost.
The minister of religion now, is to repeat the solemn truth.
He will endeavor to moderate that excessive attachment to
this world which is so apt to possess all. He will seek to
create, or rather to call forth new desires, tastes, affections
in his hearers. He will seek to unfold the true uses and
objects of living. In view of the vanity and transitoriness
of all worldly objects, he will seek to engage and fasten the
affections of men upon what is truly worthy, what changes
not, but endures forever. Our mortality is interesting to
us, not so much because we are mortal, as because there is
that within us which is immortal. Death has been well called
— a circumstance in the Christian's being. A preparation
for deaíA —what meaning is there in this phrase, if death
be merely corruption — irrecoverable decay ? And this
naturally leads me to my next topic.
It will be the duty of the Christian minister to put men
in remembrance of their spiritual, religious, immortal nature.
And this is a great and important topic. Nearly all, if
not quite the whole, of a minister's work consists in, or may
7
6a
be reduced to this one point, to convince men that they
have souls. I do not mean, barely bringing them to allow
by d.veiling upon the com non topics of argument, that this
¡S so, but making them realize that it is so. And by their
having souls, I mean nothing vague and indefinite, but that
^here is in man a spiritual and religious nature, as much as
an animal nature ; that the one is just as real as the other;
that we have a spiritual constitution and frane, as much as
a bodily organization ; and that, as there are senses, appe;
tites, wants, desires, affections belong ng to and essentially
composing the one, so there are spiritual wants, feelings,
desires, belonmnii to and constituting the other:—as there
7 O O O
are fixed laws according to which the body moves, and pre¬
serves its health and comfort, so there are laws according to
which the inner man, as the Scripture terms it, the soul, the
spiritual nature, moves, operates and preserves its health
and peace. If you expose yourselves on the brow of a
precipice, and fall, you cannot avoid injuring, if not de¬
stroying the body. If you indulge beyond a certain
extent he appetites given for the preservation of life, you
derange the animal system. These are laws which the
wise Creator has made for the benefit of the outward
frame. And the case is the same, although not so much
thought of, with the spiritual nature of man, the soul.
That, as has been remarked, has its constitution, its
system of laws by which it must be regulated. If its
wants are not satisfied, it will suffer in the same way as
the body starves for want of food ; if its faculties, per¬
ceptions, affections are not exercised and cultivated, it
will languish, grow weak and fruitless, and finally die.
Now the minister of religion must endeavor to convince his
flock of this ; to show them that by neglecting or spurning
religion, they are not merely resisting certain foreign
arguments, and denying themselves a good from abroad;
not merely " treading under foot the Son of God," and
51
" doing despite to the spirit of grace but that they are
wronging their own selves, are denying themselves an
inward gratification, as much as though they refused to
eat, or to satisfy any of their bodily wants. In other
words, it must be felt that to be religious is as much
fulfilling the design of our natural constitution, as grow¬
ing up from childhood to manhood is fulfilling this design.
The study of the soul is the great, the chief employ¬
ment of the minister; the soul is as much his concern as
the body is the concern of the physician. He must study
its anatomy, so to speak ; the nature, symptoms, remedies
of all the diseases to which it is liable; he must under¬
stand when to use the knife, and when the strengthening
cordial may be given. He must study the morbid anat¬
omy of the soul, as presented in the ravings of enthusiasm,
the phrensy of fanaticism, the bitterness of bigotry, the
tremors of superstition, the lethargy of indifference, the
madness of infidelity ; and he must learn how best to
" temper the fervors" of zeal, and heighten the languor of
insensibility : —and, as it is a principle with the physician
to apply remedies with a view to assist nature in throwing
off the disease, and restoring the outward system to
health, so it will be a principle with the spiritual leech, to
remove all the impediments to nature's exerting her own
powers, apply such reasonings, incentives, motives, as
shall help the soul to recover its natural state, and to
throw off those obstructions which sin or unbelief or
worldliness may be interposing in the way of the free,
healthy exercise of its powers. Let him seek to unfold
to men their nature ; to show them what they are, as
constituted by God ; to convince them that they are
doing violence to the leading principle of their nature, when
they neglect the subject of religion ; that the foundation of
religion is in the soul of man. We talk of arguing for the
truth of religion, of summing up the historical evidences
52
for Christianity, and of calling men's attention to the
expediency, the usefulness, the incalculable benefits of
religion to society. This is all very well in its place ; bat
it must be in its place, in order that it may be well. We
must lay the foundation, before we can expect'to rear the
superstructure. We might as well address these argu¬
ments to an oyster as to a man, before we have made him
sensible that he is a religious animal, that he is made
for religion, as much as for eating, drinking or sleeping.
It does no good to tell a man what to believe, or why to
belive, until first we have made him feel that it is natural
to believe something. Belief—I mean in its most gen¬
eral sense — faith in something beyond and above what
we can see and handle and examine with out senses,—
faith in this sense is as essential to human nature, as the
senses are ; and a man might as well ask why it is neces¬
sary to eat, and refuse to eat until he has a reason for so
doing, as to ask why he should have faith, and refuse to
exercise this part of his nature until he is satisfied. All
that can be said in reply to him is that such is one of the
essential laws of our being. Faith is instinctive. It does
not depend upon reason. Faith is commonly viewed, I
know, as the result of reason exercised upon the subject
of religion. Now this, as I would contend, is not the
natural order of things. Faith is first in order, is not
consequent upon reason, does not depend upon reason,
has nothing to do with reason. And this strong assertion
will, I trust, be understood. I am speaking now of the
principle of faith, as it exists originally in human nature,
without referring to particular articles of belief. There is
a principle in human nature which, antecedently to all
reasoning, spontaneously, instinctively rises above the
world, to what is unseen and spiritual. When we come
to exercise this principle, to apply it, and regulate it, the
work of reason commences^ Reason does not mak« us
63
believe } belkf depends «pon an original, independent kw
of our nature. Reason teaches us what to believe, and
what to reject. We may illustrate this point by reference
once more to our senses and appetites. We do not take
food because we have first reasoned ourselves into a
belief that on the whole, food will be beneficial and
salutary. No such slow process is gone through before
we satisfy our hunger and slake our thirst. It is instinct,
a more ready monitor tlian reason, that prompts us when
we need refreshments of this kind. Has reason then
nothing to do in the matter? Certainly it has a most
important work to perform. It enables us to judge what
and how much to cat ; to determine what sorts of food are
best suited for different states of the system, and a variety
of other particulars which need not be here enumerated.
And it seems to be the same with regard to religion. We
are not religious — we do not believe — because it is
reasonable to be religious, and because reason requires
us to believe. There is a stronger ground upon which the
subject may rest. It is natural, unavoidable, instinctive
to be religious, to believe. We are so made that we crave
the subject, we need something for our faith to rest in, our
hopes to cling to, our affections^ to fasten upon ; — earth
does not, cannot furnish worthy and satisfactory objects.
The future, the unseen, the spiritual, these furnish objects
which alone can satisfy our natural wants and desires, and
here we arrive at religion, before reason has been exercised
at all.
In the theory of religion that has just been pro¬
posed, reason is not undervalued. I know this doctrine
may be abused, that it has been grossly abused in past
ages of the Christian church. What then ? It is not the
less true on that account. Reason has its place, and a
most important place too, in connexion with religion.
Reason does not make us believe ; we believe before we
reason. Wherever man is found, religion is found, in
54
some form or other. This proves that it is natural to the
soil of the human heart, indigenous to the soul. But we
also find that it exists in a purer form, exerts more
wholesome influences, and produces better results in
those countries where reason has been most cultivated,
where the light of knowledge and civilization has been most
generally diffused. And this shows us what is the true
province of reason in connexion with religion. It is to
direct the religious principle to right objects, to limit and
restrain its tendencies« When it is asserted that religion
is natural to the human mind, it is not meant thereby, that
whether considered as speculation, sentiment or principle, it
springs up in a human mind in a perfect state: but only
that human nature is prepared for it, inclines to it, has
faculties, capacities and affections suited to if. But like
every other principle in our nature, this of course is sus¬
ceptible of improvement by cultivation.
Such is my theory of human nature in reference to
religion; — others may not adopt it. It seems to me
however, not a mere barren theory. It bases religion
firmly in the human constitution, and thus furnishes the
best assurance we can have of its essential truth. Let
it be not only understood but felt by a person that this is
the case, and there must be much more vitality in that
man's religion. Let him, instead of perplexing his mind
with subtle doubts and distinctions, follow the leadings of
his own spirit, attend to that internal voice which is ever
calling him to God and heaven, and suffer his natural
affections to operate and expand themselves as they will.
There is no danger of his being irreligious, if he will but do
this.—"Quench not the Spirit," — is one of the most
important directions in religion. There is a certain fund
of religious and moral sensibility lodged in every breast
originally by the Creator. Do not exhaust this fund.
Weary not the strivings of the better nature within. In
55
r6ndenng to Cassar the things which are CaesaPs, do not
forget to render unto God the things which be God's.
While you are careful to exercise the faculties of your
bodies and your minds, do not permit your souls to lie
barren and uncultivated.
I have dwelt the longer upon this topic of the present
discourse, because, when rightly understood, this does in
fact include all the duty of a minister of religion. Whether
we consider him as a teacher, as a public monitor, as the
mouth of the congregation of worshippers, — or as a
pastor, in his more private walks among his flock, his
object will ever be to address the souls of his congrega¬
tion, to convince them that they have souls; — in other
words, to call into exercise those powers and affections
which belong to religion, to develope and enlarge those
sentiments which relate to God, eternity, judgment,
heaven and hell. It is, therefore, an expressive and
beautiful phrase by which the minister of religion is said to
have the " care of souls." The care of the body is en¬
trusted to the nurse or the physician; the care of the mind
to the schoolmaster ; and the care of the soul belongs in
like manner to the clergyman.
The great work of a minister is, I repeat,to remind men
that they have souls, that is, in every possible way, in
public and private, by his pulpit services and by his pri¬
vate intercourse, so far as that is official, to seek to stir up,
bring out, quicken the religious sensibilities which are
implanted in every breast, being given, it is true, to one
man in a larger proportion than to another, but yet in
some proportion to all. It is no more than ought to be
expected that such differences should appear in individ¬
uals. We find analagous differences in the endowments
of body and mind and heart. All men have not equal
strength of muscle, vigor of intellect, or warmth of affec¬
tion. Neither have all equal sensibility to religious truth.
m
Yet no individual can be> found wholly lacking a suscepti¬
bility of religious impression. There is in every bosom a
chord which, if found and struck, will vibrate in harmony
with the general sentiment of mankind.
In thus reminding you that you have souls, or in address¬
ing your spiritual natures, your minister will be effecting
ail the peculiar objects of Ids office. If he can succeed, in
the pulpit or in private, in making his people realize that
they have a religious nature, in awakening a religious con¬
sciousness within them, be will have accomplished the prin¬
cipal thing. The soil of the heart being thus prepared in a
proper manner, particular truths in religion, special articles
of belief, will take easy root, and spring up and bear fruit
abundantly.
That man who is conscious of a religious nature and of
religious wants, will not hesitate concerning the being of a
God. The idea of God will be strongly impressed upon
his mind. He will feel the want of some living, intelligent,
perfect Essence, upon whom, as a central point, all the
deepest affections of his soul may gather, and to whom, as
an ocean, even the fulness of the Godhead, all the fervid
and strong currents of his spirit may flow continually.
In endeavoring to remind you of your religious natures,
your minister will be preparing the way for a hearty recep¬
tion of the doctrine of Providence. You will not be satis¬
fied to believe in a God, unless you also believe that he is
near unto every one of us, that in him we live, and move,
and have our being. Let a man's religious nature be once
unsealed, let the closed fountain in the soul be unstopped,
let him understand how much of his happiness is involved
in religion, and he will be little likely to rest content with
a bare belief of God's being. * He needs the thought of
God's constant care. He wants the assurance that He who
created likewise preserves, upholds, sustains. His heart
will prompt him to recognise God in every event that fakes
57
place. Amidst the celestial worlds that roll over his head,
he will delight to place that regulating mind which harmo¬
nises all. Amidst the revolving seasons, he will rejoice to
trace that hand which turns the vast orrery of nature, and
presents the changing faces of the varied year. Amidst
the multiform events which are continually taking place,
making life a mystery, and driving the reflecting mind
hither and thither without satisfaction, he will rejoice to
assure himself that there is an inspecting eye that "sees the
end from the beginning," and an arranging wisdom that
makes all " work together for good" to the righteous.
Once more — remind a man of his religious nature, bring
him to be sensible of his spiritual wants, and you prepare
the way for the great idea of God's moral government, and
the consequent necessity of virtue. A pure mind will form
to itself no other idea than of a pure, holy, righteous God ;
and a corrupt mind dares form no other idea. If you can
but succeed in awakening and developing the religious
nature, the ideas of obligation, virtue, judgment, retribution,
will spring up as necessary attendants in the mind. The
germ of every one of these ideas is in the soul, and nothing
better serves to quicken them and make them fruitful, than
religion. Human virtue may be encouraged, without
doubt, by many inferior, merely worldly considerations.
You may base a system of morals upon interest, upon ex¬
pediency, upon the fitness of things, upon taste, and may
draw from such sources some strong considerations in favor
of virtue. But after all, such systems must be imperfect
and deficient. Holiness can only be perfected by the fear
of God. Unless man's higher nature, his religious nature,
be considered, virtue loses the key-stone of its arch.
Morality and religion are mutual supports to each other,
essential to each other's completeness. Would you make a
man's conscience quick, tender and susceptible, you must
strive to make him sensible of his religious nature. Let
8
6&
him realize that he has relations to a Supreme Being, whose
perfections are the foundation of all right and justice, whose
will is the root of all law, and the idea of whom is as in¬
consistent with sin as light with darkness. Let the idea
of perfection which belongs to God be developed in the
mind, that idea, for instance, which the Scriptures encour¬
age ; and there will be an internal standard by which a man
may try himself; a model to which to refer his thoughts,
affections, actions; a point to press forward to. That
moral excellence which is the fruit and result of mere
worldly principles, must be meager indeed. But the relig¬
ious nature of man and the relations he sustains, as a re¬
ligious being, to other worlds and higher orders of beings,
are inexhaustible sources of motive, and furnish an armory
of bright and polished weapons to the moral man.
And, moreover, to make a man fully sensible of his
religious nature, is to prepare him in the best manner pos¬
sible for a reception of revealed religion, for a fair and im¬
partial consideration of the character and claims of Jesus
the Christ. A man must first realize that he has a soul, that
he has affections and desires not to be satisfied with earth
and earthly things, before he can appreciate the gospel, lo
that soul which does not realize its spiritual wants, its im¬
mortal nature, its connexion with other worlds and superior
beings, its capacity for endless improvement, its need of a
perfect Being to love — to that soul Christ has not been,
and cannot be manifested. To such an one, no light de¬
scends from that emblem-star which guided the impatient
magi to the birth-place of the infant king ; he sees not the
" spirit-dove" alight upon the head of the anointed one; nor
does he taste from the " blessed cup " the first fruits of
Messiah's authority. To him it is a vain thing that the
word was made flesh, and "shown of God" to mortal eyes.
For him the light may as well have existed in a diffused
state, as have been concentrated in the Sun of Righteous-
69
ness, to enlighten and warm the moral world. He cannot
benefit by a teacher, who feels not the want of instruction.
He will not appreciate Christ the Redeemer, who is not
aware of the miserable bondage of sin. The best prepara¬
tion for a hearty reception of the gospel is that conviction
of the need of farther light and aid which is gained from
long continued reflection upon religion, from the exercise
of the spiritual nature, and a contemplation of those sources
of religious knowledge furnished by reason alone. In that
humble state of mind induced by the poverty of our know¬
ledge on the most important topics of inquiry, we gladly
go to the wonder-working Saviour, and we understand
what are the benefits of his mission. In such a state,
"Christ is made unto us wisdom, and righteousness, and
sanctification, and redemption;" or, as another Scripture
expresses it, "Christ is formed in us the hope of glory."
The value of revealed religion, of Christianity, must be
estimated by considering the little worth of all other sources
of knowledge, and the infinite importance of the subject on
which it sheds its rays.
My hearers, now Christian brethren, I have presented
you a few thoughts ön the duties which are incumbent on
the Christian minister. The providence of God has ordered
that henceforth I shall stand in that relation to you. And
I know not that I can do better than to adopt the language
of the text, on this first occasion of meeting you in our new
relation, and say, " I will not be negligent to put you always
in remembrance of these things, though ye know them,
and be established in the present truth."
To the aged among this people I may address myself
and say, I will not neglect to remind you of the blessings
which a good providence has heaped upon you ; to repeat
the testimony which years of trial bear to the value of virtue
and piety. And 1 shall not fail to feel how much more
need there is of my being reminded by you on this point.
60
\
Like the spies of the Jewish host, who were sent before to
examine the promised land, you, my aged friends, have
gone before our generation, and have surveyed the fields
of virtue ; and you seem now to be turning back with the
assurance that it is a good land, "a land flowing with milk
and honey." .We see you bearing in your hands the
plucked fruits of the land. You hold them up, and we hear
you say. This is the fruit which grows in the soil of virtue;
we gathered it as we passed on our way. And though you
may tell us that you " saw the children of Anak there,"
we will not, like the timorous Israelites, be disheartened by
your report. Great danger has, we know, ever been the
attendant of great advantage. The golden apples of virtue,
according to the ancient fable, have ever been watched by
a dragon's eye. But Hercules triumphs. Principle is vic¬
torious. Or, in the words of an apostle, " I can do all things
through Christ, which strengtheneth me."
And if it should so happen that some among you may
have lived to this late period of life without a conviction of
their duty as religious and accountable beings, let us in¬
dulge the hope that here they may yet be effectually re¬
minded of what they have neglected, and "that they may
not see death before they have seen the Lord's Christ."
And if here in the chosen temple of our solemnities, some
word may be uttered, some influence be exerted, which
shall serve to manifest Christ to their hearts ; like Simeon
of old, may they embrace the infant principle, and rejoice
that they have been permitted, before their departure, to
see the salvation of God.
To the young of the flock I may say — It will be my
duty and pleasure, my young friends, to remind you of the
God who made you, of the Saviour who bore such as you
in his arms. You have a strait and diíBcult path to walk
in through life. I shall hope to be instrumental, through
God's blessing, in making some good impression upon your
61
tender hearts, which shall not need to be effaced in the
great day of account.
To the middle aged in this society, let me also utter a
Christian greeting. Upon you, who are yet in the midst
of your days, the burden of this church's interests must
mainly rest. I shall hope effectually to remind you of
those principles upon which alone character and happiness
can be safely based. As you are immersed in the vortex of
business, with passions excited and engaged by passing
events and earthly objects, you will suffer me, who am
standing by, a calm spectator, to caution you lest you set
your affections too much upon things below; to hold up to
you "the prize of your high calling in Christ;" to point
out to you that " pearl of great price," which outweighs all
the treasures of mammon ; that rest and peace which are
more to be desired than the world's turbid pleasures ; that
favor of God which is ever to be set before the favor of
man; and that "crown of glory" before which earthly
honors grow pale.
I shall hope to remind the sinner of his transgressions ;
the afflicted, of the hopes and comforts of the gospel ; the
rich, of the hazards and temptations which beset their path ;
the poor, of the substantial blessings which are within their
reach ; the sick, of patience and humble trust ; the dying,
of the compassion of God.
The duties which have been enumerated are to be per¬
formed not only in public, on the Lord's day, but in private
also ; and you must be aware that it is not an easy matter
to perform at the same time the public and private offices
of a minister. The habits of the student which enable the
minister to prepare for his pulpit services, and the habits of
the pastor are not a little different. You would not wish
your minister to abandon his study, and become a mere
gossip, a traveller about from house to house ; nor would
62
you hâve him shut himself up iñ his closet, and avoid your
society. You wish to be acquainted with him. You hear
the word more joyfully on the Sabbath from one whom you
Can number among your personal friends. In all this, the
person who addresses you agrees with you. But at the
same time you will allow me to say that there is a degree
of vagueness and indefiniteness in this part of a minister's
duties which occasions some difficulty. I must trust largely
to your candor, therefore, in this respect, and must ask you
to consider what and how much is practicable. Take into
view the time which must be allowed for preparation for
this place ; the domestic duties which every householder
must perform ; the time which must be given to attentive
friends, as well as to the needed refreshment of body and
mind ; take this into view, and at the same time remember
that the sick and afflicted of one's charge have always prior
claims to the pastor's sympathy and services, and you will
be able to form a more just idea how much is practicable in
the way of that general visiting of which I now speak.
Once or twice in a year will, it is thought, strike you as the
reasonable amount that can be expected. But enough of
this. I humbly offer to you, and to my respected associate,
the senior pastor of this church, whatever service I may be
able to render. It will not certainly be necessary I should
remind you of what is due to him who has so long occupied
this place. "He stands where he has stood through chang¬
ing years," as another has already reminded you. He
who has sprinkled your infant brows with the water of
baptism, or divided to you the memorials of a Saviours
death, or united you in the tenderest relation of lifu; o'
been the instrument by whom you have paid your last
respects to the remains of those you have loved, must ever
be regarded with a peculiar interest. It is right—is i'
not? — that, as his years increase, the respect which is
63
paid to him should increase, while the duties required of
him are lessened.
And now, brethren, let us indulge the hope that our
new connexion, as pastor and people, has the approbation
of Heaven, and that it will be followed with the best fruit
to our souls.
ON THE PREACHING OF OUR SAVIOUR.
a
A SERMON
DELIVERED AT THE ORDINATION
0 F
JOSEPH ANGIER,
AS PASTOR OF THE
FIRST CONGREGATIONAL CHURGH
1 K
NEW-BEDFORU.
may 20, 1835.
BY REV. ORVILLE DEWEY.
new-BEDFORD:
benjamin T. CONGDON,
18 3 5.
Ebrata. Page 9, line 7 from top, omit " and."
Page 14, Une 3 from bottom, for emotions, read emotion.
Page 15, line 14 from bottom, for "was," read ever.
SERMON.
Matthew VII. 28,29.
And it camb to pass whew Jesus had ended these sayings, that
THE PEOPLE WERE ASTONISHED AT HIS DOCTRINE. FoR HE TAUGHT
AS ONE HATING AUTHORITY, AND NOT AS THE SCRIBES.
What tuas it that made this impression upon the Jews,
when they listened to our Saviour ? What, in fact, was
the impression which they felt? Was it of any thing
mysterious or supernatural about him? Was it anything
in his manner, any thing in his tone or gesture, any
singularity of appearance or of action that was so impressive?
The text informs us, that "the people were astonished at
his doctrine." And although by his doctrine some com¬
mentators understand, and rightly, I think, his mode of
teaching, I do not suppose, that by this phrase they mean
his mere manner, but rather, the kind of truths he insisted
upon. He taught not as the Scribes, who were accustomed
to engage in endless disquisitions on the most puerile and
trifling questions. On the contrary, Jesus taught plain,
practical, solemn truths. He taught a doctrine that carried
the weight of moral authority with it. What was the doc¬
trine then ? Was it some imposing form of oriental mysti¬
cism? Was it the secret of the Essenes? Was it the
mystery of his miraculous power ? Was it his coming agony ?
Most interesting, affecting would this have been ; but was it
this ? Was it a touching and solemn foreshowing of the dark
4
fate that awaited him—of his own blessed patience therein,
of his glorious humiliation, his victorious sacrifice, his life-
giving death ? Or, if none of these were his theme, then was
it some new and before unheard of truth, at which the people
were astonished ? On the contrary, the solemn and soul-
amazing doctrine which so moved the people, was the simple
doctrine of the Sermon on the Mount. It is at the close of
this sermon, that we find recorded the testimony ol the text.
It was the advantage of poverty and of depression in this
world ; it was the blessedness of a meek temper, and of
aspirations after spiritual excellence, and of pity and purity
and gentleness, and even of persecution for righteousness
sake ; it was the sin of angry passions, and unchaste thoughts,
and profane words ; it was forgiveness of enemies, and un¬
ostentatious alms-giving, and simplicity in prayer, and
candor, and heavenly mindedness, and trust in God—^it was
all this that he taught, when the people were astonished at
his doctrine. And all this was nothing new, nor mysterious,
nor mystical, nor curious, nor admirable, nor eloquent, in
the ordinary sense of those'words—it was only simple truth.
But what was it in this truth, then, that made it so im¬
pressive, so much more impressive, than it is from the lips
of other teachers ? This question presses us to some more
specific view—it obliges us to point out some particular trait
of the preaching of Jesus. If its remarkable power did not
lie in the bare circumstance that it was true, if ordinary
truths had this power in his hands, and if there was nothing
extraordinary in his manner, then what was it in his preach¬
ing that made it so powerful ? I answer, it was that which
will make all preaching powerful in proportion as it ap¬
proaches the same point—that however, in which no
preacher ever came near the great Master—it was the de¬
claring not of truth merely, not of truth as it is in the abstract,
or in books ; but it was a declaring of the tivth of things
5
as it is in the human heart. It was a penetrating insight
into human nature. It was a preaching to experience. It
was the preaching oí him who "knew what was in man."
This is the grand moral peculiarity in the preaching
of our Saviour that I shall first attempt to illustrate : after
which I shall inquire how far his example is to be considered
as a model for our imitation.
Our Saviour spoke to tl^e age in which he lived—to its
maxims, philosophy and spirit. He spoke to the very com¬
munities in which he taught—to the precise moral questions
and difficulties that engaged their attention. He spoke to
the very individual that approached him—and to his inmost
experience. " Come, see a man," said the woman of
Samaria, "jwho told me all that ever I did." In other
respects his manner varied. He sometimes used great ten¬
derness, and at other times great severity. He exhorted,
encouraged, upbraided, warned, as the occasion required ;
but he always spoke directly to the case before him.—
Truth in his hands was never, for one moment, an abstraction.
To prepare the way, however, for some illustration of this
great moral trait, I may state two or three things in a
negative form.
One is, that our Saviour never delivered any collection of
wise saying, that is, of apothegms and rules, which are
general and abstract ; which are as applicable to one time,
or to one person, as another. No discourse ofhis probably
bears so much of this aspect as the Sermon on the Mount ;
and yet we shall soon see, I think, on referring to it again,
that it is no less specific and pertinent than the rest of his
teachings. In this respect our Saviour departed from all
the sages of antiquity. It has been said, and perhaps it is
true, that all, or nearly all, the precepts of Jesus may be
found in Plato, and Seneca, and Confucius. The separate
precepts may be found ; and all carefully set down in order,
6
in the philosopher's thesis, or in the moralist's code ; but
where will truth ever be found, in such living intimacy with
the human heart.
It is also worthy of notice, that our Saviour, in his teach«
ings, never delivered any system of doctrines. He very
clearly taught doctrines, it is true ; but he never taught them
in a systematic form. He never made a creed. It may
be said, that he left the materials out of which creeds may
be formed. However true this may be, yet it is certain
that he never saw fit to draw out the articles of such an
instrument. He never set the example, of what the world
has shown itself ready enough to do, without an example.
He drew up no summary of his doctrines. He did not make
that appeal to the pride of reason, nor to the love of dispu¬
tation. He did not appeal to the power of cavilling, but to
the power of conscience.
I am not objecting to summaries of doctrine, provided they
are rightly used and regarded. As designed to aid the
studious, and to lay open the philosophy of doctrines, they
are useful, and always will be. But I think, the experience
of the world cannot much longer fail to teach it, that of all
things designed to be bonds of union, creeds are the most ill-
advised—being as they ever have been, and yet are, chal¬
lenges to controversy, and trials of ingenuity in evasion ;
the very watchwords to strife, the very barriers, around
which the theological war has always raged the fiercest.—
No form of words ever did or ever can secure unanimity of
explanation, even with those who profess to receive them,
and therefore no form of words ever can be a real bond of
union. More wisely did our great Master establish the union
of his disciples in the bond of the spirit, the bond of mutual
love and forbearance. And I thank heaven, that bond
still holds, unbroken by all the dissensions of the Christian
world ; that there are men, and they, I trust, not a few.
7
who, though separated by the widest supposed differences of
speculative faith, still respect, and admire, and love one
another. If I could not feel, and delight to feel these sen¬
timents towards real Christians of every name, I should stand
in painful doubt of my own discipleship to the great Master.
But to return ; as our Saviour did not deliver any collec¬
tion of wise sayings, nor draw up any formal summary of
doctrines, so neither did he attempt to fix in any one exact
form of definition, the varying modes and ways of christian
experience. He did not describe any precise order of mental
exercises in religion as the only right one, nor demand an
accordance of the affections with any precise formula of faith,
and I must be allowed to say, that, if any such order and
accordance be requisite, if no man can be a Christian who
does not pass through a certain prescribed process of con¬
viction and conversion, of despair and hope, of distress and
relief ; or, if no man can be a Christian, who has not "cer¬
tain views," as they are called, who does not "see the doc¬
trines" in a certain light ; it is most extraordinary and unac¬
countable that not a trace of this specific plan appears in the
preaching of Christ. For, I affirm that it is just as impos¬
sible to find any such plan, any such definite frame work of
experience in the teachings of Christ, as it is to find it in
the teachings of Confucius or of Cicero. I deny not that
such may be the religious experience of thousands, and that
it may be an honest and sound experience, but I deny that
it is, by way of eminence. Christian experience.
For if—and I now return to the main position—if there
was any thing distinctive and remarkable, in the preaching of
Jesus, it was just the easy and natural adaptation of every
principle of spiritual truth to the case and exigency of every
individual whom he addressed. Inquirers of every character
approach him continually. Where is the one formula of
expression with which he replies to all ? Where is the one
8
plan of experience which he lays down for all ? Do yoi
continually hear from his lips, the words, conviction, conver
sion, the new birth, the grace of God, important as they al
are. No. It is sometimes, faith, that he requires ; some
times, repentance. Then again, it is charitableness or can
dor; then, alms-giving; then honesty, meekness, patience
humility, forgiveness of injuries, fidelity to relatives ; everj
virtue in fine, every grace, that belongs to goodness and
piety. All is natural, simple, unforced. The style is as
natural, it has as little that is technical in it as you would use,
if you were talking and expostulating with one of your child¬
ren about any fault or vice into which he had fallen.
But let us refer again to the Sermon on the Mount. It
was this, as I have already said, that called forth the
demonstration of feeling recorded in the text. Was it
enough, so to move the people, to inculcate the virtues of
meekness, spiritual mindedness, forgiveness, purity of heart,
religious veneration, candor and love ; and to inculcate these
things in the general and in the abstract ? Was this the
character of the Sermon on the Mount ? Was it a mere col¬
lection of wise sayings ? On the contrary, at every step, it
fastens upon reality, fact, circumstance—upon the very
thoughts and questions and prejudices of the persons who
were to be taught. In the first place, our Saviour addressed
a company of men, his disciples and others, who looked for
their Messiah as a temporal king, who expected that he
would deliver them from the Roman yoke, conquer the sur¬
rounding nations, and reinstate the Jewish people in all and
more than all the possessions and splendors of their ancient
monarchy. In the next place, he addressed a company who
were accustomed to all those evasions of the moral law,
which had been brought in by tradition, and which were
daily multiplied by Jewish doctors and scribes. Let these
things be borne in mind, and we shall see how far from being
9
abstract, how pertinent, indeed, and pointed, is every word
he utters. Blessed, he says, are the poor in spirit,—which,
whether it means the literally " poor who repine not," or
those who are conscious of their moral poverty, is mainly to
the same purpose—blessed are the poor in spirit, rather than
the children of pride, or of abundance and luxury. Blessed
are they that mourn, and rather than they who whose days
are given to mirth and gaiety. Blessed are the meek, and
not the arrogant and exacting. Blessed are they that hun¬
ger and thirst after righteousness, and not the worldly-
minded, who are hungering and thirsting after worldly ad¬
vancement. Blessed ate the merciful : I call you not to
take vengeance on your oppressors. Blessed are the pure
in heart ; I spread before you no prospect ol sensual indul¬
gences. Blessed are the peace-makers : I summon you to
no field of battle. Blessed are the persecuted, the reviled,
the rejected for my sake ; I tell you, my disciples, that ye
shall have bonds instead of thrones, injury and oppression,
instead of conquest and glory. And then he exhorts them
to steadfastness and fidelity, and to an open and bold pro¬
fession of his name, telling them that they are the salt of
the earth, and the light of the world.
He next applies himself to the popular misconceptions of
the moral law. The people had been taught that inward
offences were of small account, provided the outward act
were restrained ; and that almost all virtue consisted in
obedience to the ceremonial law. Ye have heard that it
hath been said by them of old time, thou shalt not kill, thou
shalt not commit adultery : ye have heard that in these cases
abstinence from the outward act is sufficient ; but I say unto
you, that he who hath an angry feeling, or an unchaste
design, is guilty, and is in danger of the judgment. Again,
he taught the duties of alms-giving, and prayer, and fasting ;
but how did he teach them ? In alms-giving let not thy left
10
hand know what thy right hand doeth. When thou prayest,
enter into thy closet. When thou fastest, anoint thy head
and wash thy face ; be not of a sad countenance. What
pointed precepts were these to a people who were accus¬
tomed to the mo^t ostentatious charities, who were wont to
pray, standing at the corners of the streets, and who, when
they fasted, disfigured their faces, that they might appear
unto men to fast ! And again, judge not that ye be not
judged. What a cutting precept was that to the most cen¬
sorious and bigoted of all mankind.
Nay, and this kind of teaching imposes the necessity for
the most careful and considerate interpretation of it The
New Testament is not a book of maxims, nor a book of
doctrines, nor a book of laws ; that is to say, it is neither of
these in its form ; but it is in form, a book of conversations.
It has, indeed, the weight of maxims, and the authority of
doctrines, and the force of laws, but it has, I repeat, the form
of neither. It is a book of conversations, and popular ad¬
dresses. It bears, every where, a character of colloquial
freedom. Its instructions are so specific, they so constantly
relate to peculiar and individual cases, and this makes it
necessary so frequently to modify, to limit or to enlarge the
application of what is said, that the interpreter who over¬
looks this trait is certain to err in his exposition. If our
Saviour's mode of teaching had been sufficiently regarded,
if he had been regarded, not as a propounder of tenets, but
as one simply and solemnly talking with the heart, he would
not be thought to have lent his sanction to such a variety of
sects and to such a variety of opinions, as have sprung up in
the christian world. How many things are to be modified,
even in that discourse which we have been considering—
commonly regarded as the most elaborate of his discourses.
Poverty, and sorrow, and persecution are not, abstractly
desirable things. They are not things to rejoice at, surely,
11
for their own sake. Yet there may be a state of mind to
which these things may be well addressed. And there may
be a state of society, in which persecution is better than
praise and honor. So a joyous countenance is not abstractly,
the most proper for a day of fasting; but it was proper
to be recommended in the circumstances. And so also, to
take no thought for our life, what we shall eat, nor for our
body, what we shall put on, cannot be expedient or right for
the mass of mankind. But it was expedient for those dis¬
ciples, who were set apart and deroted to a peculiar office,
mconsistent with the business of life—to an office requiring
celibacy, and incompatible with the care of families.
Indeed, almost the entire Gospels might be quoted to
show that our Saviour always addressed himself directly to
the case before him ; and that this was the secret of his
power, as a teacher. I am aware that I can do nothing
more in this discourse, than to draw your attention to this
peculiarity of his recorded instructions. With this view,
having considered the most remarkable of his discourses—
recommended to our attention also, by its having been im¬
mediately connected with the declaration of the text—let
me now refer to one of his conversations—if not the most
remarkable, at least, more remarked upon than any other.
And I choose the passage the rather because in it our Saviour
is commonly considered as having spoken very technically,
and as having adopted language peculiarly proper for general
use and universal application.
A man comes to Jesus by night, a distinguished man, a
ruler of the Jews, who though convinced of the truth, is
not yet prepared to compromise his reputation by an open
avowal of his convictions. He comes to Jesus by night, and
he says. Master, we know that thou art a teacher come from
God, for no man can do these miracles that thou doest,
except God be with hin). Our Saviour, who " knew what
12
was in man,"—and this, we may observe, is the striking
declaration which precedes the whole account—our Saviour
answers, not so much to what Nicodemus had said, as to
his state of mind,—and he says, except a man be born again
he cannot see the kingdom of God. Nicodemus carps at
the phrase "bom again," though he very well understands
it. He knows very well that according to the usage of
Jewish language, it refers to an open—to a cordial indeed—
but especially to an open profession of the new religion.—
Proselytes to Judaism, he knows, were constantly and
familiarly described as "born again." So highly did the
Jews conceive of the distinction and advantage of belongmg
to their spiritual community, that they habitually denomina¬
ted proselytes " new creatures." Jesus speaks again, and
what does he say ? Does he simply and emphatically repeat
what he had already said, as if it were some great and re¬
markable canon-law of the new kingdom, and as if he was
now, for the first time announcing the spiritual part of this
requisition ? On the contrary, he had announced that a
thousand times before ! He never spoke to a bad man, of
of whom he did not virtually require a conversion. No>
he speaks again, only to touch again the point of the noble
but irresolute and time-serving inquirer's deficiency. "Except
a man be born of water"—^be baptized into an open pro¬
fession of his faith—"except a man be bom of water, and
of the spirit, he cannot enter into the kingdom of God."—
Have you ever thought it strange, my friends,—for 1 confess
that I once did—that the spiritual teacher should lay such
stress on a mere form ? This is the explanation : that regard¬
less, as it were of every thing else, regardless of all system,
regardless almost of his own great claims, and of the congru-
ities of his own public character as a spiritual teacher, he
always fixed his eye upon one point, he always spoke to
one point, and that was the point on which the inquirers
13
improvement depended. The great obstacle in the way of
Nicodemus, was his worldly pride, ambition—subserviency
to the world ; and our Saviour lays the stress precisely there -,
he tells the Jewish ruler, that if he would be a Christian,
he must throw away these vain compromises with the world,
and be an open, bold, and decided professor of Christianity.
Religion to him, was to be a victory over worldly fears and
compliances.
How different is this from our modem teaching, when
neither speaker, nor hearer oftentimes, is satisfied with a
sermon, unless it contains what is called " the whole counsel"
—unless the sermon be a kind of epitome of divinity—or
at any rate unless the sermon preach Christ ; which means
not as it anciently did, preaching Christianity, but preaching
some peculiar views of the person or sufierings of Christ. I
fear, that some of our modem hearers who turn contemptu¬
ously away from many sermons, saying there is nothing of
Christ in them, would have found the preaching of the
Master to have been scarcely satisfactory. " What," they
would say, had they overheard the conversation with Nico¬
demus—" tell an anxious inquirer about the great salvation,
that he must make a profession of religion ; lay all the stress
upon that ? Not a word about sin ; not a word about the
atonement ; not a word about faith, nor repentance ?"—
How many modern divines would be alarmed for their
reputation, if they could be proved to have been, in this
respect, very close imitators of Christ—if they could be
convicted of having preached discourse after discourse, to
some simple point of every day morality, without having said
a word about what are called " the great doctrines." No
wonder that our modern preaching is dull, when we are oc¬
cupied with this eternal generalizing : when we preach from
books of Essays or from some Body of Divinity, and not
from the book and body of our own experience ; when we
14
set forth, not the living truth that is within us, but some dead
truth that is without us ; when our aim is not so much to
touch the heart, as to touch, adroitly, and with anatomical
skill, the skeleton of a creed !—as if the art of the preacher
were the art of the necromancer, or the dialectic of the
sophist ! And how would Jesus have lost all his power and
charm, as a teacher—how, indeed, could we have believed
in him, if he had come forward on all occasions with his
formula of doctrine, or his shibboleth of faith !
Instead of this, Jesus evermore speaks to the heart, and
to the very heart before him, and not another. Not one
technical form of truth, but the whole world, the whole
universe of truth is before him, and he wields all its powers
and commands all its resources freely, and freely applies
them to the regeneration of men around him. He speaks,
not so much as the champion of truth, as its master. He is
not so much an innovator, as a reformer. The founder of a
new religion, he forgets not the old, the eternal truths, that
have been taught in former days, that have dwelt forever in
the bosom of human experience, but labors to start them
into life and action.
Well is it said, that "never man spake as this man there
never was such a teacher. I am not surprised that " the
people were astonished at his doctrine.*' I follow him, with
a kind of wonder in my own heart, at every word he utters.
There is a piercing discrimination, and at the same time, an
awful reality and sobriety in his instructions, that make me
feel as if the words he uttered, had reverberated in the secret
places of my oWn soul ; as if they were tones from the
innermost sanctuary of consciousness.
My feeling is, that the teachings of our Saviour were not
ordinarily accompanied with any strong emotions. Their
leading characteristic seems to me to have been a calm and
penetrating insight into the human heart. " He knew what
15
was in man." He looked, beneath the surface, into the very
heart. The power of his preaching was not so much the
power of emotion, as the power of simple, practical, perti¬
nent truth. We follow him through his life and teachings,
with the feeling that he is solving just such questions of duty
and cases of conscience, as are wont to rise in our own
hearts. They are every where filled with those natural and
touching incidents, those aíTecting interviews, that sober and
qniet talking of heart with heart, that make us feel that it is
all real and true—^that such events and conversations must
have happened. It is as if a parent sat down by his erring
child, and said, " my child 1 you know that these things are
true." That parent might not make any great demonstra¬
tion of feeling, perhaps ; he would be too intent and serious,
it may be, to give way to a flood of emotion ; he might not
weep. Neither did Jesus ; for of this extraordinary being it
is but once recorded that he wept. But he spoke with a
power of truth, that went far beyond the contagious power of
sympathy. And if I were called upon to mention what is to
me the most touching trait in the preaching of Jesus, I should
say, it is that sobriety, that self-restraint ; that heart, fired
with zeal, yet filled with patience; that heart filled with
the most exquisite tenderness, yet was calm and subdued.
The majesty of the Gospel, indeed, is its truth ; but that
truth comes more powerfully to the heart, when veiled
beneath those softened and touching features of sweet seren¬
ity and tenderness, than if it flashed out from the splendors
of Sinm.
But I must not farther enlarge at present, on these views
of the preaching of Jesus—hints though they have been.
I beseech you to read the New Testament with this intent—
to feel the pertinency and heart-penetrating power of our
Saviour's iastruction. I would that I could persuade the
skeptic, so to read the New Testament, for once. And I
16
feel morally sure, that he could not do this, and remain an
unbeliever. He might have his difficulties about the mira¬
cles; but he could not doubt in his conscience, Trhether this
was a teacher to bo reverenced, to be loved, to be obeyed.
And would not this settle the whole question. For the
narrative, before us, is either truth or fiction. The question
is between these. And 1 say, ay it is fiction, it is the most
extraordinary, nay, and I must say, the most mcredible of
fictions. It is, on this supposition, infinitely more extraor¬
dinary, as a work of genius, than any such work, that the
world ever saw. For this narrative, let it be remembered,
was written in part by a Jewish publican, and, in part, by
fishermen from the lake of Galilee !
I have thus spoken of the preaching of our Saviour, and
have endeavored to show, that its grand peculiarity is a deep
and penetrating discrimination of the truth of things as they
are in the human heart. The question now arises, and it is
most important, and most pertinent to the present occasion,
whether the example of our Saviour's preaching is imitable,
and whether its results are attainable by us.
There are circumstances, doubtless, of unapproachable
peculiarity in the preaching of our Saviour. His divine
commission and his immaculate purity authorized him to
speak with a tone of absolute infallibility and lofty rebuke,
which would not become his imperfect and erring minis¬
ters. It would not be enough to say, in defence of a
similar manner on our part, that so Christ preached. That
which in him was authority and rebuke, may become, in our
hands, arrogance and railing. We may not speak to erring
men, as if we were not also liable to err. We may not speak
to sinful men, we may not say to them, "sinner! sinner!
in a stern tone, as if we forgot that we also are sinners.—
This pulpit, raised and railed around, for the convenience
of speaking, should never make us forget that we stand.
n
weak and erring brethren, amidst bréthrea erring and weak ;
to sympathize with them, to sorrow with them, to seek with
them after truth, purity and happiness, to respond to the
sighs of poor, struggling humanity around us, to feel upon our
cheek the breath of infant prayers, to bear up the burthen
of common want and guilt and grief, to the throne pf grace.
Nor indeed did our Master forget all this, save in the two
respects beforementioned, that he was faultless and infallible.
But while there are respects in which we may not dare
to imitate Jesus as a preacher, there are respects in which
the mission of Christ and his ministers is common. Their
mission to the human heart is common. And it is precisely
in that trait of his instruction, which embodied its chief
power, that the imitation of him is open to us.
Not, of course, that we can expect to equal him. Never
man spake as he spake, and 1 think man never will. But
if his power as a preacher, lay in his simple, faithful, close
reasonings with the heart, then may we not study him—and
may we not strive to imitate him ? This specific qualifica¬
tion presupposed, this habit of penetrating into the deepest
motives and interests of human nature ; and I say that truth
in our hands, would never be powerless nor uninteresting.
With this deep experience of the truth in our own minds,
though possessed neither of genius, nor learning, nor elegance,
nor fluency, we should preach in demonstration of the spirit
and with power. For, the human heart is still the same, its
wants and sorrows and sins are still the same, and he who
truly speaks to these, will not speak in vain.
I assert, then, that there are truths in religion that would
move all hearts, ay, and the bad as well as the good, if we
only clearly saw and clearly presented them. Man, how¬
ever irreligious, is still a rational being—as much so, as when
Jesus spoke to him, with his words of astonishing power.
That is to say, man is a being who is and must be affected
by motives. And the centre and circumference, the strength
18
and expansion of all rational motives, is truth. It was the
specific character of the preaching of Jesus, that it made men
perceive the truth. And it is, in fact, a want of the per¬
ception of truth, that lies at the foundation of all religious
indifference. Not of all wickedness—I do not say that ;
but of all indifference. The truth, however clearly per¬
ceived, might not move a man to be good ; it might move
him only to the hatred of it ; but, I say, that the truth, if
clearly perceived, would move him; and that he can no
more help experiencing this effect, than he can help his
being a rational creature. Such, my brethren, are the sol¬
emn attributes of human nature. Such is the strong moral
necessity, that is impressed upon it by the hand of God.
It was in the strength of that moral necessity that the
preaching of Jesus was powerful. And weak as I am, or
as you are, in the comparison, yet there never was an
audience of human beings which I should not boldly con¬
front—no, nor ever could be, though it were gathered from
the regions of perdition—which I should not boldly confront,
in this simple assurance, that if I could tell them the truth,
in clear and exact application to their moral condition, they
would be moved in the very deepest springs of their nature.
The great Teacher never addressed a dull assembly. No
soul ever slept under his piercing instructions. If his hear¬
ers were not made better by his teachings, yet they felt
those teachings, though they were delivered with the utmost
calmness and sobriety. Those hearers were moved, if not
converted ; they gnashed on him with their teeth, for his
fidelity to the truth. They, at length, put him to death,
because he told them the truth.
But what is this all-powerful truth, some one may say ?
Ah! my brethren, that is precisely what we do not yet
understand. There are deeper things in the human heart,
there are deeper things in human life, than we are wont to
suppose. There are feelings of the heart that do not lie on
19
the surface of human actions ; feelings that are shut up by
many in close reserve ; feelings that are never uttered,
though they spring up within at the call of many occasions—
though they often swell the heart and fill the eye in secret,
yet never uttered ; there are feelings of want, and fear, and
anxiety, and despondency, and sorrow, and unworthiness,
and guilt ; emotions, not the offspring of worldly conditions,
not creatures of earth, not bound to the clods of earth, not
bound up in the senses, but all spiritual, vast, solemn ; there
are such things—there is a world of such things in the dark
and brooding chaos of human experience—oh ! blindness of
a dull and sensual generation ! when shall we find it—when
shall we understand that world within, and address our¬
selves to it, even as the master of science applies himself to
scan the secrets of nature ?
I do not think, my friends, that any thing is, in its truest
and most intimate character, what it is in its first and most
obvious aspects. 1 do not think that any thing in the world
is superficial. Labor is not mere labor, and business is not
mere business, and life is not mere life ; there are deeper
springs in them all than are wont to appear. I know that
some will tell you, and some who may seem to be very
sagacious, but I must think, very cynical observers, that
there is no depth of sentiment, no far-reaching thought,
among the mass of mankind ; that they are all slaves of toil,
or creatures of mere condition. But I cannot believe so. I
distrust these observers, because they seem to me, most
unreasonable and arrogant observers. The denouncers of
their kind, whether philosophical or sentimental, consider
themsehes doubtless as exceptions to their sweeping censure ;
every tone of their scorn and satire shows that ; and, I say,
that this very assumption is enough to refute the cruel
judgment they pronounce. Drue philosophy sees deeper
things ; true poetry sees deeper things ; and why shall not
20
true religion see deeper things, than lie upon the surface?
The most ordinary and obvious things in life bear other
characters than that of being ordinary and obvious. When
I hear of such things as preying dulness, joyless indulgence,
sickening mirth, and sad laughter—what 1 I say, is this,
dulness alone ? Is this, indulgence alone ? Is this, mirth, is
this laughter alone ? No, there are revealed to me other
things—a nature which sin cannot satisfy, which pleasure
cannot satisfy ; a want which the world cannot satisfy ; and
the trouble—I have seen it in the averted eye, I have seen
it in the quivering lip—the trouble of a guilty conscience.
Ah I frail, erring, sinning, but also, sensitive, suffering,
wrestling human nature! What evidence of the mighty
power of God in thee—of that power that set in the dark
foundations of the earth its unchangeable laws—what evi¬
dence of the mighty power of God in thee, when deep em¬
bosomed amidst sins, and follies, and vanities ; when amidst
all that can derange and pervert, and overburthen and crush
the mighty moral law of God in thee, still that uncontrolable
energy stirs, and struggles, and heaves in the dark places of
the soul, even as the earthquake heaves, and shakes the
great world. F ear not, my Brethren in the sacred office !
fear not, my young friend, now to be set apart to this office I
—fear not to meet this human nature, though its bosom were
mailed over with a thousand folds and fastenings of sin and
scorn and presumption. Truth is mighty, not in some
vague and general sense, but it is mighty with the human
heart, and will prevail. Tell me not, thou who art devoted,
this day, to a good and glorious work I tell me not of thy
youthful and modest fear. Speak but some simple word,
unfolded from the deep bosom of thine own experience, and
God will open the way for it to some other experience, deep
and dear as thine own.
Pardon me, my brethren in office, that I should speak to
21
you, to whom it is meet that I should listen. Let me take
you to witness rather. Do we not know, with such medita¬
tions on life, as we are wont to engage in, that there are
deeper things in life, than those which lie, in the sight of all
men, upon its surface ?
Both the virtues and vices of life lie deeper ; and let me
add, that the description of virtues and vices constitutes a
part of the truth that we are to preach.J
The multitude passes before us, and there may be little in
the countenance or manner, or even in the ordinary course
of visible actions, morally to distinguish one individual from
another. With the exception of notorious instances, the
routine of business is the same with all ; the same civilities
of society are pmd by all ; and all perhaps bestow the same
charities *, all, in fine, are decent and decorous ; amiable in
appearance, correct in deportment.
But beneath this exterior of life, how much is passing in
the breast of a good man, which the world never sees ! How
many silent prayers for heavenly aid, how many secret ejac¬
ulations of thanksgiving, how many swelling emotions pour
their full tide through the hidden channels of the soul, when
he stands amidst the mercies of life and the fair visions of
nature, how many blessings, breathed, but not uttered, upon
the lovely, the excellent and wise ; what strugglings too,
against evil thoughts, what earnest moral reasonings, what
deep humiliations, "what carefulness, yea, what indignation,
yea, what fear, yea, what vehement desire, yea, what re¬
venge !" All these things belong to "the hidden man of the
heart the world knows not of them.
So it is with the bad man. The bad man—where is he ?
You mark him not in the ordinary paths of life. Look at that
man, whom you know to be a bad man. His garb is like
that of other men. His demeanor is decorous. He is con¬
versing ; but there is nothing extraordinary in his manner,
22
or speech, or in the expressions of his countenance—^nothing
to show the demon that he is. His cheek, perhaps, is fair;
his brow is open ; his eye is clear and calm. " Nay, but
stop !" you say, " I saw a glance of the eye then, as if it
were of a wild animal looking out from its dark cavem !"—
Nay, r saw it not. Well, it is past. All is smooth, again;
all is bland and amiable ; and yet that man, perhaps, is
meditating fraud, revenge, seduction, or even murder !
And therefore, I cannot altogether agree with that popular
maxim, that says, we are to judge of a man's character by
his life, meaning by his life, that is to say, his outward con¬
duct. By his life considered as embracing every thing
secret, every indirect manifestation, every nicely defined
trait of manner, every delicate discrimination of action, we
might indeed. But there are a thousand every-day actions,
a thousand civilities, a thousand forms of speech, that may
proceed from totally different and opposite motives, which
the good and bad alike may use, which therefore discriminate
neither. When actions are set forth in the Scripture as the
tests of character, we shall find, I believe, that they are set
forth, not as the absolute and only tests, but rather in
contradistinction to professions. " By their fruits, says our
Saviour, ye shall know them. Not every one that saith unto
me. Lord, Lord, but he that doeth the will of my Father
who is in heaven." And the doing of that will, we must
add, embraces motives. And motives lie, oftentimes, deep
in the heart. And especially has it been the effect of all
the forms of civilization yet seen in the world, to produce
concealment of motives. And yet more is this liable to he
true, in a country like ours, where public opinion presses
down upon every man, with a mighty and almost despotic
force. The danger here is extreme, that whatever in virtu¬
ous conduct, whatever in religious action or enterprise,
has the sanction of public opinion, will obtain the homage
23
of visible acquiescence, without obtaining the homage of
the heart.
It is therefore emphatically true, that he who would preach
religion must preach to the motives. And I cannot there-
ore account that the only, nor the most practical preach¬
ing, which is occupied with visible virtues, such as honesty,
temperance and alms-giving, or with the outward actions of
life. All this is, doubtless, very well in its place ; but it is
not exclusively nor eminently practical. That is most prac¬
tical which touches, not actions, but the springs of action ;
and the springs of action, are the motives, sentiments, views,
that govern it. He who can take hold of any great senti¬
ment of human nature, or of human life, though he may
seem to discourse very abstractly or very transcendentally,
has the power to touch not only human life and experience,
but the very power that moves them. He is not telling the
people precisely what to do, and therefore many may not
think that he is practical, but what is better, and more prac¬
tical, he is telling them that which arouses and impels them
to do something.
Let me now endeavor, in close, to bring the few remarks
which I have offered to you on the preaching of our Saviour,
and on the foundation there still is in human nature for the
imitation of it, to some closer application to the objects of
the present occasion—^to some closer application, that is to
say, to religious congregations and to the preaching of religion.
And first to religious Congregations, The grand theme of
complaint against our Congregations, and all similar bodies
every where, is, that they are cold and indifferent in the
matters of religion. I shall not attempt to gainsay the
charge ; it is too true. And yet. Brethren, I suspect that
there is something superficial in the views, upon which this
charge is oftentimes brought. We are a people, cold in
manner. How much social warmth and kindness are there.
24
that are never expressed ! And a «tranger, a mere trev^er,
may pronounce us, and very honestly pronounce us to be a
cold-hearted people. May not the same thing, to a certain
extent, be true, in regard to religion ? May it not be, because
we are strangers to the secret workings of the religious prin¬
ciple among us, that we so confidently and currently bring
the charge of utter coldness against our religious societies.
I confess, it seems to me the more lamentable case of multi¬
tudes around us, that the many feelings they have about
religion are brought to so little practical account. They
feel enough, oftentimes, but alas ! they do not wisely culti¬
vate those feelings, and nurse them into principles. They
feel enough oftentimes, but they will not confess, they will
not recognize to themselves, what they do feel. They are
afraid to commit themselves, as it were, with their own
consciences ; they are afraid, that they shall seem to profess
something. They feel as if religion were a thing so peculiar,
so shut up in professions and rites, or in certain persons and
certain manners, that they have no business to claim aity
interest in it.
But are there not feelings among us ? How often lis it
found, that some person, commonly supposed to be deroid
of all seriousness, to be altogether frivolous, altogether a
heartless votary of this world's fashions and vanities, will
discover, in an intimate and frank conversation, a degree of
reflection and solicitude, that equally astonish and delight
the inquirer ! How seldom will he fail, who has the talent-
how rare a talent !—to go not from house to house only, hut
from heart to heart—how seldom will he fail to discover in
every mind that will unfold itself, traces of deep spiritual
anxieties !
Are there not feelings among us? Do you not feel, my
friend, whosoever you are to whom I speak ? How, I tvas
ready to say, can you help it! From whence, when ye
25
gather yourselves to the holy assembly, from whence have
ye come ? Ye have come from scenes of this world's business
and toil. Are there not questionings there, about honesty,
and rectitude, and generosity, and charity too? These,
then, are questionings about religion. Does not the thought
of death sometimes come across your minds in those scenes
—the thought of that hour, when accumulation will end,
and labor will sink to its last rest ; when all your acquisitions
will be left behind, and all the care and toil of life will be but
a dream of the past ? But from whence have ye come ?
Ye have come perhaps, from joyous society, from gay as¬
semblies. Did the sight of fair and glad youth, did the
thrilling tones of music, never touch your hearts with grati¬
tude ? And, did no darker thought ever enter your mind,
when others were noticed, and you were neglected ; when
others shone, and you were in the shade ? Did you never
find that the scene of gaiety had become to you the scene
of a moral struggle, serious, ay, and bitter, as ever passed in
the hovel of neglected and pining indigence ? How many
have retired from such scenes, and shut themselves up in
convents, because they found the moral struggle of social
gaiety, too hard for them I But from whence, I ask again,
have ye come ? Ye have come from your homes. God bless
them ! and they need his blessing. Poor homes, or rich
homes they may be ; sad homes, or joyous homes ; health
may be there, or sickness may be there, pressing hardly,
and you may almost feel as if it were cruelly, upon some
beloved one—ah ! do not the thoughts of religion come
there then ?—thoughts of patience and piety ?—or swelling
thoughts, which patience and piety can hardly tame down !
Or ye have come, perhaps, from the circle of the bright
faces of your children, and though to a stranger's eye, all
may seem to be bright in that circle and nothing but bright,
you know that lowering brows are sometimes there, and
26
sullen looks, and passionate words—you know that in the
bosom of childhood, and in your own bosoms too, is carried
on, every day, a keen moral strife ; that questions of right
and wrong, of injury and retaliation and forgiveness are every
day to be settled in that little empire, home.
And knowing all this, and all that life is, living amidst the
strife of business and beneath the pressure of toil, moving in
the jostling throng of society, dwelling in the homes of affec¬
tion and fear and anxiety and want, tell me not, that religion
is nothing to you. I care not, for the purposes of this argu¬
ment, whether you are a christian or an infidel. Sit down
with me, and look quietly into the heart, into the secret and
silent dwelling places of the affections ; lay aside those su¬
perficial views of things in which skepticism and worldliness
find all their strength ; look beneath the surface, to the seats
of real conviction and wrestling passion, and then tell me,
if you honestly can, that the question of being right or of
being wrong, of doing good or of doing evil, is a question of
pure indifference to you. It is not. You know that it is
not. You may wear down your faculties to utter exhaust¬
ion, in the attempt to prove this ; and you cannot prove it—
you cannot feel it. A curious machinery is this of human
nature !—is it not ?—when seventy years, employed only to
derange and pervert it, to pull out its levers and to break
its wheels, cannot prevent it from producing that great
moral result, that great conviction. A curious machinery, is
it ? Why do you not feel that it is awful, as if it produced
the lightning and formed the thunder ? And why, oh I why
is it, but for the mercy of God, that he who has laid his
hand upon it millions of times, for many a year, only to per¬
vert it, is not struck dead, with that presumptuous touch !
But I must turn from considering that pervading sense of
religion, which is too slight and inconstant, indeed ; but to
which he who knew what was in man appealed, and to
27
which we as preachers must appeal,—I must turn a moment
to that preaching of it which is designed to make the sense
of it deeper and more permanent.
And what is this preaching ? I answer, it is first of all, a
preaching of truth, of moral, spiritual truth. It is not a
preaching of fancies, puerilities, vagaries, subtleties, like
those of the Scribes, or of mere scholastic theologues. It is
not preaching about the matter, and about it, with however
many an ingenious turn of thought, or graceful variety of
phrase ; hut it is preaching the truth itself, the main truth,
the truth on which piety and happiness depend.
I answer again, that it is not enough to preach that which
is true, though it he the deepest and most spiritual truth ;
but it is preaching it, in a certain order and with certain ap¬
plications, accordant with truth. The order is the order of
reasoning ; the application is to human experience. Our
Saviour's discourses consisted of the closest reasonings as
well as the most pointed applications.
The order then, is the order of reasoning. There are
aermons, and long ones, and full of truths, which after all
have no instruction in them. A man may begin at the
xîreation, and come down through all the dispensations, and
tell all that he ever thought about religion, and yet teach
nothing ; because there is, in his whole discourse, no con¬
nection nor dependency of thought. In all right preaching
there must he right reasoning. Be the discourse extempo¬
raneous or written, it must possess this trait, or it is good for
nothing. The greatest defect in the pulpit now, is not, after
all, its want of sensibility, but its vagueness, its indefiniteness,
its want of reasonableness, and truth, and penetration.
There are in preaching, two ways of making an impression.
The one is, by clear discrimination, and the other is, by the
contagious influence of sensibility. They ought doubtless
to be united ; but I think they are often separated, and I
28
fear too, that the popular preference is given to the latter.
I say that I Jtar it ; becau^'e I cannot help asking, of what
use is it to me to be moved, unless I understand distinctly
the grounds on which I am moved ? I might sit without the
range of the preacher's voice, and be very much and very
naturally excited by a mere pantomimic exhibition of feeling;
I might be moved even to tears by the tears of another in
such circumstances, and yet of what use would it be to me?
It is from this cause, partly, that impressions made at church
are so transient. They have not laid their foundations in
the reason and conscience, but are spread upon the unstable
waters of emotion. Emotion is good ; it is very good ; and
yet, it is good for nothing, unless it is the offspring of
thought. " Sanctify them, through thy truth," is a solemn
prayer, which should pervade all our preparations for the
pulpit.
I had intended to give myself larger space for this topic,
but I must leave it to say in the next place, in accordance
with the leading views of preaching presented in this dis¬
course, that there must be an application of truth to human
experience.
It is only from the want of a discernment of the truth in
application to himself, that any man is able to contemplate it
negligently, to feel it slightly, or, I may add, to preach it
coldly. There are interests in human nature and human
life, if we could but get at them, which could not be dis¬
cussed though ever so coldly, without being deeply felt. It
is as if you stood with your neighbor on the soil that covered
a mine of gold. You might talk with him, and you might
talk very ingeniously and learnedly about that surface of
soil, and he would, perhaps, scarcely give heed to you. But
strike down with your measuring rod, or take the wand
of the spiritual enchanter, and convince him that there is a
treasure beneath bis feet, and then you may talk as coolly
29
as you please, you may discourse as coldly as ever did math,
ematical lecturer from his chair, you may announce your
views in the veriest abstractions of arithmetic, and they shall
be eloquent as the speech of Demosthenes. The eloquence
of Demosthenes itself, consisted in nothing so characteristic,
as a plain and penetrating disclosure of the interests, which
the Athenians had at stake in the affairs of the Common¬
wealth. I do not believe, it ever called forth a tear, or cost
the orator a tear ; but it laid hold upon attention, it struck
the heart, it did the work of eloquence. I do not object to
any proper demonstration of feeling. And there are things
which we may well tell, as the Apostle did, even weeping.
And there are tears of religious joy and gratitude, too, as
well as of sorrow. But in the very torrent and tempest of
passion, let there ever be a temperance that shall give it
smoothness, a sobriety that shall give it reasonableness, and
a truth that shall give it power.
I have only one word more to say, and that also I beg
leave to offer for the consideration of my clerical brethren,
and especially of ray young brother who is now to be inducted
into the sacred office. Self study is the secret of preaching.
The philosophy of our religion, like all true philosophy, is
the philosophy of experimenting. Nothing which is not
revolved in the bosom of our own experience, can ever be
true. It is not merely, not interesting nor affecting ; it is
not true ; it is not true to ourselves ; it is not true to others.
Truth is an element of mind. It must be a part of our¬
selves, or it is nothing. We must speak of the love of God,
and of the faith in Christ, and of penitence and of humility,
and of disinterested and self-denying philanthropy, as those
who have felt them, or we shall speak in vain. We must
feel our own soul's want, burthen, trial, and have felt how
full and sweet are the supports and reliefs of God's mercy to
ourselves, before we shall understand the boundless and
30
beautiful applications of religion to all human hearts. The
religion that we preach must he in us. From the toiling
brain and from the beating heart, from the springs of original
meditation, and from the fountains of tears, must every
sermon be drawn^ or it will do no good ; or none but a nega¬
tive good. Our imaginations may ascend to heaven to bring
Christ down ; or descend into the earth, to bring Christ
back ; but in vain. Unless Christ be formed within us, we
understand not Christianity, nor how to preach it. May
God make us such preachers ! May God give you, my
brethren, such a minister ! And may God bless you in him,
and him in you ! I am sure I need not say, that I rejoice in
your prosperity and in your prospects. I feel, indeed, that
with reference to my interest in your welfare, I need ¡ay
nothing. If a ten year's mutual and harmonious acquaint¬
ance had left any place for formal declarations, it would be
a place, I am sure, which no formal declarations could sup¬
ply. On the other hand, it is the greatest happiness of my,
professional life, that I may believe that this sentiment is
reciprocated on your part. I trust our friendship will con¬
tinue, though the visible tie be broken. May it be one of
those friendships—and such be that which this day ratifies—
which shall last when these heavens have passed away 1
Amen ! God grant it 1
CHARGE.
REV. F. W. P. GREENWOOD.
CHARGE.
My Christian Brother,—Your connexion with a Christian
church, as their pastor and teacher, is publicly sanc¬
tioned. Your brethren have implored the blessing of
God on the connexion. In their name I now stand up to
charge you, that you perform your part of the engagement
with care and faithfulness, as a true servant of Christ, our
common Master. I speak to you with such feelings only,
as those with which a brother might speak to a younger
brother in the flesh, who is about to enter on a course of
duty and labor, in which the former had been permitted to
gain some experience ;—and such feelings can only be those
of a sincere, strong, anc} tender interest. I speak to you
with such authority only, as that wliich may belong to a
venerable custom, that which always accompanies love un¬
feigned, and that which may be given to my words by their
conformity to the Word of God, which is eternal truth.
Could I desire, or could I have a better authority ?
I have said that I speak to you, as a brother might ad¬
dress a younger brother, about to enter on a course of
duty and labor. I know of no duty more sacred and im¬
portant, and no labor more arduous, than the duty and labor
of a Christian minister. Let the office which you have un¬
dertaken to fulfil, as the minister of this society, be viewed
in sober simplicity, which is the only light in which I should
care to have it viewed, as an office of peculiar spiritual in-
5
34
struction, guidance and consolation, and there will be no
danger of over estimating its importance and value. I
therefore charge you, my brother, reverence your ofSce.—
Reverence your ofBce. Think highly of its claims, its dig¬
nity, its holiness. Unless you do this, you cannot discharge
it worthily.
But you will not suppose, that by charging you thus, I
mean that you should be jealous of personal respect, or
troubled at any little slight which may be offered you, or
anxious for external place and precedence among men, 1
certainly mean no such thing. Study to be wholly inde¬
pendent of these small matters. But let your exalted
regards of the objects of the Gospel ministry, stimulate you
to a diligent accomplishment of them, and the respect, of
men will follow of course—and such i.espect as will be worth
your having. Reverence your office.
Let me touch briefly on two points in which you. may
most profitably manifest your reverence for the office of a
Christian teacher. I select those which bring you moat
frequently and generally into contact not only with the
people of your charge, but with your fellow-men. I begin
with the place where we stand—the pulpit, I exhort you,
I beseech you, make it your especial care. Prepare your¬
self well for its duties. Think and meditate, read, observe,
and feel, for the pulpit. Put your best, whole thoughts, and
not their mere ends and revellings into your sermons. Strive
to be interesting. Avoid dulness, as you would avoid sin.
Be not extravagant, however. Stand up high above affec¬
tation. Desire not to be startling or amusing. But strive
to be interesting. Strive to engage the attention of your
hearers. Excite and aid their reflections. Take hold of
their sympathies. Persuade their understandings. Rouse
their affections—^their deepest, gentlest, holiest, best affec¬
tions. Try to enlist their reason and their feelings, in every
35
discourse which you preach, on the side of piety, virtue,
religion—in the service of Christ, and of God. Strive to
do this with the voluntary, the warm and natural strivings of
your own mind and your own heart. It should he a free
and unforced labor ; but it can never be an easy work.
It will not do, in these times, to slight the services of the
pulpit, or to regard them in any other light than as calling
for the heartiest efforts which a minister can make. People
do not go to church now, so much as they used to, as a
matter of duty. I regret this, because public worship is a
duty, a great and serious duty, which ought to be regularly
performed, in the face of minor grievances. But the fact is,
that our people do not attend church so regularly and gene¬
rally, fair weather or foul, sleeping or waking, as did their
fathers. If they do not expect to be interested at church,
many will stay away. And they who go, if they are not
interested, if they are neither affected nor instructed, will be
offended. They may think it a duty to go to church, but
it will not be a pleasant duty. It will be a task. In the
minds of both these classes, those who stay away and those
who go, religion will be made to suffer, by a want of interest
in the performances of the minister. I look upon it as one
great cause of religious indifference, that religion is often
presented.in such an uninteresting manner from our pulpits.
People whose religious motives and principles are not very
clear or well fixed, are told of the pleasure of public wor¬
ship and the beauty of God's sanctuary, and the riches and
profit of his word, and they go and find neither pleasure,
beauty, riches nor profit, but weariness, emptiness, dulness ;
and what wonder is it if religion suffers in their minds ?
Strive to be interesting. Preach so that your audience can¬
not help listening, or at least so that they will be rewarded,
if they take pains to listen.
You can hardly fail of being interesting, if you are yourself
36
interested. If, when you are preparing your discourse, you
are interested in its subject, and when you are preaching it,
are interested in its eifect, then will your preaching be inter¬
esting and effective. Go to your own heart for rules of
preaching—to your own heart and your own experience.
For the subjects of your discourses, I need not say, go to the
Bible. You have gone there. You know what a store¬
house of spiritual wealth, what a fountain of truth and power
it is. Preach the simple truth, and preach it from,your heart,
and simple though it be, it will be powerful. Preach man's
wants and God's mercies. Preach redemption. Preach
eternity. Preach Christ, and him faithful, him true, him
crucified.
I have not dwelt thus earnestly on the importance ol
preaching, because I undervalue the importance of other
ministerial offices and duties. I am deeply sensible of the
importance of them all. But I have confined myself to
speak on two points only, and those which bring a minister
oftenest into relation with all his people, and with the com¬
munity. Twice every week at least, he comes with religion
in his hand before his whole people, or before some other
religious congregation. He must take care that the great
cause do not, in those frequently recurring occasions, suffer
in his hands. ,
On the other point I must express myself yet more briefly.
A minister is brought before frequent and general observa¬
tion by his manners. He is connected in various ways with
society. He passes before many eyes. It particularly
behooves him to be circumspect in his demeanor. A small
indiscretion may work great harm. It is scarcely worth
while to inquire whether the community is right in looking
for more than ordinary propriety of deportment in the min¬
ister of religion. It is enough that it is so. I believe that it
should be so ; and that the minister should conduct himself
37
accordingly. Youth is exposed to considerable danger in
this respect. It is much to require from it, in any profession,
the prudence of maturity. But the grave duties of our pro¬
fession are continually presenting reasons and motives and
helps to prudence, and they will exert an influence, if their
seasonable monitions are duly heeded. It is unpleasant to
see levity in a teacher of religion, even though he be young.
None of us can remember it in any part of his own former
conduct, without regret, even though the instances of it may
be pardoned and forgotten by others. Be not, nor aflect to
be, austere, rigid, gloomy. Fear not to be cheerful, to be
amiable, to be happy. But yet let your general bearing be
that of decent gravity. Reflect in your manners the spirit of
the religion you preach. That spirit is cheerful, but not
light ; amiable, but not frivolous ; happy, but not gay.—
Respect yourself, and you will be respected. Reverence
your office by a faithful discharge of its duties, and by a
conformable outward deportment, and you may be sure it
will be reverenced, at least by all the good, by all the well-
disposed.
Love your people, and they will love you. Serve God
faithfully, and he will surely and abundantly reward you.
Follow Christ affectionately, and he will receive you and
crown you. And may the blessing of God and the grace of
Christ be with you alway.
RIGHT HAND OF FELLOWSHIP.
BY REV. CHANDLER ROBBINS.
RIGHT HAND OF FELLOWSHIP.
It affords me no little gratification, my brother and my
friend, that, as the organ of these assembled Churches, it
devolves upon me as a duty, thus publicly to express that
fraternal interest, and those affectionate wishes, which, to¬
wards one whom I have so long and so pleasantly known,
it is my happiness in private most sincerely to feel.
It is not yet so long time, since my own bosom was heav¬
ing under the influence of the same mingled and powerful
emotions, which—if I know your heart—are swaying it now;
it is not yet so long since the day of my own ordination,
nor are the feelings of that occasion so transient in their im¬
pression, that I can forget to-day how to sympathize, fully and
deeply with you. With no great effort my mind transports me
hack a little space, and places me close at your side. I can
perceive how the future appears to you. The great outlines
of that dim prospect which occupies your forereaching vis¬
ion, rush up afresh to my own recollection. I can see you,
I can Jeel you enveloped in the shadows of those great
duties, and indefinable difficulties, and lofty satisfactions,
which are soon to become realities. I seem to be again pre¬
paring to enter with you into that rising cloud, somewhere
dark, yet gilded with many bright streaks of promise, which
to-day seems overshadowing your forward path. But, my
brother, I come back—though it is but from a day's journey
in advance—I come back, out of that future, from withkj,
6
42
that cloud ; come back with intelligence for you. It is the
best and the kindest that, in the relation in which we stand
to each other, a friend can give a friend.
Do not look with too troubled foreboding upon those dark
specks. They appear in the distance blacker tluui they are.
In the anxiety of your anticipation, they are more appalling
than you will find them to be in the day of their power. For,
your fears, believe me, are far less tban will be your strength.
He who tempers the wind to the shorn lamb, will sanctify
difficulties to you, and nerve you for trials as they oonie.—
And the thickest darkness may be the pavilion oj the mrcji
seilt—and when it shall have rolled over your head, wiU
open before the eye of the spirit that searcheth the deep
things of God, and disclose to yourself the radiance of a
Father's smile beaming full upon your heart.
And do not look with too much confidence upon those
bright streaks. We know not from the prospect, what shall
be truly happy in the possession. We know not if the fair
promise of the future shall be realized in joy, till it has come,
and proved itself presently good—till it has passed, and left
an impress of heaven upon our hearts. The gay coloring
of hope, may be as delusive and dangerous as the darker
shading of fear. Nay, even more is it to be dreaded ; for it
may gild our forward path with the brilliancy of false light,
which shall tempt us away from intense searching after the
only true glory and beauty, that which shineth from the
Fountain of light ; and breaks upon us, and becomes a part,
and the ornament and the happiness of our lives, only while
we are toiling for it, as for the diamond in the mine, and
purifying the heart to reflect it, and trusting in God alone to
shed it down upon us.
Come forward, then, my brother, hail—welcome—into
your future—to the future of a devoted teacher of truth, of
a faithful exemplar of a blameless life—of a devoted disciple
43
of the Redeemer of the world- Come with chgstenecl hgpe—
eome> with KghHned fear-^ome, seeking all from God—
eome, trvsting all to God-^ome» and find all in Qod.
Rut not elope the great outlines of your jprospcct«, I see,
but your Míoníí—deep, in this hour of your solemn npder-
takiog—your wants—are understood and feh. And do I
not exhaust them ajl, ip naming sußcUncy of inspiration
from the Fount of Perfection, and sympathy from the broths
erhood of the feitbfuj,
For the first, my brother, I need not point you tp the
luxur y of prayer. You cannot but have tasted and improved
it tosday. And J doubt not that the answering spirit of the
Holiest is hovering over you now.
And for human sympathy—it is my happiness to assure
you that your yearning is not in vain. 'Tis not a mere form;
I do not feel it to be a form—that which the representatives
of these assembled churches have assigned me as a duty—I
am sure that the warm hearts of all, are one with my own,
which is sincere and full in this fraternal grasp. Accept
then, from all the brethren—unreserved and true, this Right
Hand of Christian Fellowship. Receive it, as a pledge
of our interest, our cooperation, and our constancy of love.
Receive it, as a token of our cordial welcome to the fellow¬
ship of all that is holy, elevated, arduous, and happy in our
venerated profession. Return it as a mutual bond, that on
your part you will be true to the free and life-giving princi¬
ples which we regard you as having this day devoted your
life to defend, to act out, and to spread. Return it as an
assurance that we shall ever find in you a faithful brother
and friend in Christ Jesus—one with whom at all times hand
can join in hand as we go forward in the steps and the spirit
of the Master, bearing along the consecrated cross, and
mounting upward rejoicing, towards the inheritance of his
heavenly crown.
44
And now, my brother, one more wish, one more prayer,
together, and I have done. That life, which heretofore has
been so much enjoyed by your early friends, they resign to
day, at the call of God, to those whom henceforth you are
bound to love, and in whose service you are to spend and be
spent. May they prove to you as affectionate, as forgiving,
and as faithful, as those from whom they have taken you
away. And may the dews of heaven, while you sleep, and
when you wake, drop down abundantly upon this field of
your care, so that you may look out upon it, and your heart
be refreshed and enlarged, as you see it thickly spread over
with all that is beautiful, and holy, and lovely in the graces
that bloom in the garden that the Lord hath blessed.
ADDRESS TO THE SOCIETY.
BT REV, CALEB STETBON.
ADDRESS TO THE SOCIETY.
It is not uncommon íbr a Society to receive the minister
of their cbmce with something of an exaggerated feeling.
Qualities^ which lie perhaps on the surface of his character,
have won him present favor, and excited expectation that
the deep and hidden resources o( the inward man will con¬
tinue to unfold themselves in yet higher manifestations of
excellence and power. But little is yet known of him, and
from that little, groundless hopes have been raised, only to
end in an equally groundless disappointment. Hence the
first year or two of his ministry is a season of peculiar trial.
The enthusiasm of his people has cooled down. Whatever
was extravagant in their estimate of him has been corrected
by more dispassionate and longer observation. Having set¬
tled down into their natural state of mind, they pass from
admirers to critics, and from critics they may easily become
cavillers.
Thus without any fault of his own, a young minister is in
danger of sinking loo low in the estimation of his society,
merely because he has not done, what never ought to have
been expected of him. He has not changed ; but their
feelings have changed—and he appears different to them be¬
cause he is seen from a diflferent point of view. He has been
long enough with them to dispel illusions ; but not long enough
to obtain a strong hold on tlieir aflections. His experience
has been enough to bring him into the severest labors and diffi-
48
culties of his profession, but not enough to carry him
smoothly through them. In short, he has been a minister
long enough to have made mistakes, but not long enough to
have profited by them as he yet may. In many cases, dis¬
satisfaction with a clergyman has risen very high, before he
has become familiar with duties, which the longest life is
not too long to learn.
In entering upon this scene of arduous duty, and perilous
trial, your pastor has received a solemn charge to bear him¬
self as " a good minister of Jesus Christ." But this inter¬
esting relation implies mutual obligations. Allow me re¬
spectfully to remind you that if he has duties to you, you
also have duties to him. The blessings which are expected
to flow from his ministry, depend not more upon his fidelity
than upon your kindness, sympathy and faith.
Receive your minister, then, kindly. Treat him with
respect. Listen to him with candor. Be moderate in your
claims. I speak not thus from any doubt of the disposition
or ability of my friend and brother to satisfy all reasonable
expectations ; and I have too much confidence in you to
fear that you will entertain any other. Him I have known
long and intimately. I have watched his progress with the
deepest interest. I have rejoiced in the unfolding of talents
and virtues which give promise of distinguished excellence.
He is however but a man, a young man ; and I cannot but
feel that it requires no ordinary powers to minister wisely
and well to a society like this. Your late pastor, "whose
praise is in all the churches," is still fresh in your remem¬
brance and affection. Of his eminent qualities, his presence
forbids me to speak as I would. It is enough to say that the
ablest successor may well come with diffidence into such a
man's place.
If you feel kindly towards your minister, you will respect
his independence. You will not wish him to conform him-
49
self to any idea of excellence preexisting in your minds. If
he is to succeed well at all, it must be by tbe exercise of
his own judgment, taste and feeling. He must never forget
that " one is his Master, even Christ." He must strive
conscientiously to fulfil his ministry, " not as pleasing men,
but as pleasing God." He may have truths to utter, un¬
welcome to your ears. Hear and judge—spare not to
condemn yourselves, when truth condemns you. He comes
to you in his youth, to grow into strength and excellence
by the unfolding of his powers and affections. Let them
be free to unfold themselves according to the tendencies of
his individual nature, that he may be a sincere, manly, nat¬
ural character. There are many ways in which a parish
may interfere with their minister's natural developement and
mode of action. They may have a bigotted attachment to
a specific style of ministerial character, and he is expected to
mould himself to it without regard to his individual habits
and temperament. It sometimes requires a good deal of
candor and virtue in a people to divest themselves of this
exclusive notion of excellence, so far as to be able to do
justice to excellence of another kind.
If the minister is not strong enough to resist an outward
pressure like this, he will endeavor to satisfy his people, by
conforming himself to their wishes too anxiously. But he
will do it ill at best ; and he will do it at the expense of
truth and nature. He will be false to them and false to
himself. He can never become what God designed him to
be, by such a servile course. He will lose his simplicity and
his originality—his growth will be mean and dwarfish, unless
it is the free and natural developement of his inner man.
Following impulses which originate without himself, and
stifling the generous promptings of his own spirit, he will
reach' nothing better than a barren imitation of some living
or ideal model. If the manifestations of his mind are re-
7
50
strained to forms prescribed by external influence, truth will
come from him, not as truth in its freshness and power ;
because it has not taken the coloring and pressure of his
thoughts, by being reproduced in his own mind. Noth¬
ing excellent can be expected, if all that is natural and
spontaneous must be displaced by what is artificial. His
virtue will degenerate into prudence, his seriousness into
cant. There will be the " form of godliness without the
power thereof." His christian graces will be feeble and
poor, because they have no root in the natural affections of
his heart. If there is'in a man any thing of living power or
enduring interest, it must be through his individuality j there
alone can he be original or strong.
No man ever ought to preach or act like another. How¬
ever good the original may be, the copy must be bad ; for it
wants life and nature. Whatever is estimable in the official
character must be spontaneous, savoring of the peculiarity of
the individual. You have a deep interest in the growth of
your minister's talents and virtues. Let them grow freely.
Do not expect him to walk in fetters. Do not require him
to conform himself to a specific idea. The blossoms of his
mind must have no rough handling, if you would have good
fruit and abundant. Let them have their natural growth.
You may check it, but you cannot mend it by interference.
There is danger of too much restraint as to the subjects
and style of preaching. Every man has peculiar modes of
intellectual manifestation, in which he can exert more power
than in any other way. The richest veins of thought and
the manner of working them, must be discovered by himself,
and it will not do to be intolerant of his experiments in the
search after truth. He ought to be indulged with a good
deal of latitude in the choice and treatment of subjects for
the pulpit. If the demand for what is called practical
preaching is so loud, that he feels obliged to confine himself
51
to certain modes of thought, and abandon others more con¬
genial with his nature, he will be a poor preacher and an
ordinary man. He will never sound the depths of the
divine philosophy, which reveals to man the relations and
uses of his spiritual being.
Let your minister then come to this pulpit always, with a
full assurance of a candid hearing—confident in a 'fit audience'
for the products of his mind. And what if there should
sometimes be but little that appears practical in them—they
may lead hereafter to rich treasures of thought yet unex¬
plored. It is in your power to assist' and encourage his in¬
tellectual activity, by showing yourselves interested hearers
and intelligent judges of whatever has tasked his mind, Let
him be sure that you will be always here—always earnest in
your attention—that your minds are with him, and your
hearts with him ; and the deep fountains of his being will
be broken up and fiow freely. He cannot be a poor preacher.
Give him then your hearty sympathy, and you will find in
his ministry an unutterable blessing. Your hearts will be
the throne of his spiritual power, and there he will wield it
for your salvation.
In his pastoral duty he will need your sympathy and
candor. If you value him " highly for his work's sake,"
you will wish to be intimate with him, and see him often at
your houses. But how often he can visit you, none but
himself can determine. No duty is more indefinite than
this. None but himself can know how much time he must
spend in direct preparation for the pulpit, and how much
more must be given to deep study and thought, that he may
be able to prepare something worthy of the pulpit. He
may perhaps judge wrong, as to the distribution of his time,
but it is certain that no one else can judge right. Be con¬
siderate then in your claims upon his youth, and his feelings
will not allow him to disregard them. Remember that his
52
study is the source of his power—if he he has any power.
There he must grow and thrive, that he may carry to the
pulpit and into his pastoral and familiar intercourse the
treasures of a rich and generous cultivation. And you will
prize his visits the more, in proportion as the habits of a
scholar and the strength of a disciplined mind make him
more respected in the peculiar function of a preacher.
In your intercourse with your minister, you can do a
great deal for his happiness and usefulness. Show your
sympathy with him in subjects of great and immortal inter¬
est ; and his reliance upon it will be felt in the warmth of
his address, and the adaptation of his discourses to your
spiritual wants and disorders. You would not wish him
always to introduce religious conversation, and wholly sink
the man in the minister. Conversation on religious topics
should not be a matter of form, system, predetermination—
but a spontaneous flowing out from the deep sensibilities of
his soul. It is easy for you to draw it out, if you will, by
showing that it is interesting to you. His heart will yearn
after your sympathy in its profoundest and most cherished
emotions. If he is sure that you will go along with him in
his high communings with the world of invisible being, and
feel as he feels the worth of the soul's everlasting hope, there
will be no barrier to your free converse on the most inspiring
themes.
This kind of intercourse will do more than any thing else
can to qualify a minister to speak thrillingly to the human
mind and heart. He will come to you with no fear of over¬
going your sympathies ; and he will come " in the fulness
of the blessing of the gospel of Christ." His preaching will
be a sincere and honest manifestation of his inmost soul—
of divine truth as he believes it, feels it, loves it. And you
will receive it in love, and in social communion reflect it
back upon him colored by the peculiarities of your own
53
minds—thus continually giving him new revelations of human
nature in its individual varieties. The society with which
he is so intimately connected, will be to him the most
instructive of all books.
If then you would have an efficient minister, make him so
by your generous sympathy. Let him see that you are
interested in religion—that you discern its spiritual truth and
beauty—that you will gladly hear its most severe and
searching applications, and endeavor to profit withal. Open
your hearts to his influence—give him the inspiring confi¬
dence that he can do you good, and he will do it. "Out of
the abundance of his full heart," will he speak—and he will
speak to the profoundest sensibilities of your moral nature.
Finally, to make the word of salvation eflectual, you must
receive it in faith. Truth is the great spiritual power, by
which Christ reigns over mind. Through his ministers it is
made the instrument of spiritual redemption. Truth pro¬
duces no effect except on willing minds. It acts upon the
inward man, according to the unchangeable laws of his
being—producing faith, inspiring love, and raising him to
spiritual life. He must co-operate in the work. He cannot
become a Christian by listening passively to the word.
There must be a going forth of his own mind to meet it ;
his affections must spring to embrace it as their joy and
hope—the most blessed revelation of God's goodness and
love. In this manner you must aid the work of the minis¬
try, or it will have no power. Consider how great the
object is—nothing less than to redeem man from a strange
indifference or utter worldliness, or deep and deadly sin, to
a reverent and grateful worship of his Maker—to raise him
to goodness, happiness, glory—to quicken the faculties which
God gave him into the new and spiritual life to which he is
destined—so that his thoughts and desires shall be no more
of the earth, earthy, but of heaven, heavenly. And what a
54
moral revolution is this ! As it regards the whole furnishing
of the inner man—all that gives him moral worth or dignity
or power, how superior is he who bears about him a living
image of Christ, to those who live for the world only—by
maxims drawn from the world and shaped to the world's
uses !
This effect can be produced only by faith. And by faith
I mean, not a cold assent of the mind to truth, but tbat strong
and vivid apprehension of it, which makes the revelations of
the spiritual world most interesting and affecting realities, in
view of which a man is willing to live and die—realities, in
which he finds his consolations, his hopes, and his joys.—
There can be none of this deep seated and heart stirring
belief in those who habitually listen with cold indifference
to the revelation of man's sublime destiny and God's unut¬
terable love. It can have no place in worldly men, who are
satisfied with what the world gives and promises, and feel no
yearnings of the heart, no quickening of the soul's aspira¬
tions after a higher life.
Enter then, my friends, with a candid mind, with a gen¬
erous sympathy, and with a believing spirit, into this new
relation. Listen with faith to him who reveals God to your
soul, and your soul to itself. Believe in Christ as the im¬
personation of that perfect idea of humanity which existed
in the mind of God before he made man in his own image.
See in his character what you can be, and ought to be—
what the Christian ministry is designed to make you. If
you hold fast to your heart this sublime moral idea as a
reality, you will find it the most blessed of all realities, h
will lift you above the world to the companionship of pure
and happy spirits. The discourses of your minister on these
high themes will be full of power and life. You will not be
" careless hearers, but doers of the word," and this ministry
will indeed be to you " the ministry of reconciliation
55
hallowed forever in the remembrance of those who shall be
" crowns of his rejoicing in the day of the Lord Jesus
of all who have "received with meekness the engrafted
word which is able to save their souls."
THE
"ADDRESS TO THE PEOPLE;"
DELIVERED AT THE INSTALLATION OF
REV. HENRY A. MILES
AS PASTOR OF THE
SOUTH CONGREGATIONAL SOCIETY
IN LOWELL,
WEDNESDAY, 14 DEC. 1836.
BY JOHN PIERPONT,
MINISTER OF HOLLIS STREET CHURCH, BOSTON.
PUBLISHED BY THE SOCIETY.
L O AV ELL:
NORTON'S BOOK AND JOE PRINTING OFFICE.
1837.
The " Address," here given fo the public, was, from the necessity of the
case, delivered altogether without writing. At the request of the People to
whom it was given, it was afterwards written out as accurately as it could be
from memory. It is hoped that, in its present form, it will be recognized by
those who heard it, and that it may be read by others with the indulgence
with which it was heard by them.
J. P.
My Christian Brethren and Friends,
of this Religious Society ;
In the indisposition and consequent absence of our mutual Iriend,
your former minister, the pari, in the services of this interesting
occasion, whicli liad been assigned to him, lias been suddenly and
unexpectedly transferred to me. I shall, however, make no apol¬
ogy for the inadequateness of my address, either to your expecta¬
tions or to the occasion ; but, believing that what I say will be attrib¬
uted by you to that readiness on my part to do aught in my power
to serve you, to which, 1 trust, you have hitherto been no strangers,
I shall cast myself on that charily of yours to which 1 am no
stranger myself, in the full assurance that you will consider my
want of preparation as atoned for by my willingness to do what I
may to meet your wishes.
I congratulate you, then, upon the connection this day publicly
recognized between yourselves, and our friend and brother who
¡snow inducted into office, as your minister in holy things. I trust,
and ardently hope, that this will be for good ; and, in the words of
an apostle, " having such hope," you will bear with me if I " use
great plainness of speech."
You have been reminded, by the text and the discourse from it
which you have just heard,* that your minister is "a steward of the
mysteries of God." And you probably remember that, in imme¬
diate connexion with that text, the apostle remarks that " it is ex¬
pected of a steward that a man be found faithful," i. e. one that may
be depended upon, for the discharge of those duties which result
from the office that he fills, and from the relation in which you
have chosen that he should stand to you.
Now, by a reference to the letter missive, by which we have
been invited to come together to-day, I see that you have chosen
our brother as your ^'■Teacher and Guide.'''' A fair inference from
this is, that you consider yourselves as having something yet to
learn—possibly, something to unlearn. Ii he is faithful as a teacher,
* 1. Cor. iv I
4
will it be wonderful if you find, now and then, a new opinion advene»
ed, or an old one brought in question ; some habit censured, or some
prejudice shocked? Again, ifhe is expected tobe your "Guide,"
shall he not take the lead ? or, must he lag behind, for fe^ he should
take a wrong course himself, and mislead the flock who have com¬
mitted themselves to his guidance ! And, must he hold his peace, in
this place of the assembly of his people, till he has first learned
from them what he may preach, and what he may not ! Can it be
reasonably expected that a steward of the mysteries of God, who
is thus restricted, " should he faithful ?"
But that your steward may he found faithful, he must be free
—perfectly free ; free to decide for himself, under the feeling of bis
own responsibility, what topics he shall treat of, and how he shall
treat them. In regard to all this,'he must he under no restriction—
no injunction—no dictation. Neither by note nor by nod, by word
nor by wink, must he he restrained from dispensing the myste¬
ries committed to him according to what he considers to be his
Master's will. Indeed, freedom is the essential condition of fidel¬
ity ; a condition as absolutely indispensable as respiration is to vital¬
ity. There must he no forbidden topic. He must be free as air.
But here I am asked, perhaps, " Is he not our minister ? and, is
not a minister a servant ? Do we not hire him as our servant,
and pay him as our servant, and shall he not do our bidding ?"
Yes, he is, indeed, your servant; hut, at the same time, he is
God's servant ; and the ministry to which you have chosen him,
is, emphatically, that " service of God which \s perfect freedom."
Consider, my friends, the embarrassment of your pastor—who
feels that the great object of his labours is to advance the cause of
truth and righteousness ; that is, to proclaim the true, of course to
expose the false ; and to maintain tlie right, of course to point out
and rebuke the wrong, and thus to establish the kingdom of God m
his flock and in the world—from the moment tliat he is given to un¬
derstand that there is any point, either of doctrine or duty, on which
he may not, or on which it is even expected that he will not, preach.
Be the subject what it may, the very fact that it is prohibited, gives
it an importance in his eyes : for, if it is so important in the view of
any one of his flock, that it may not he touched, it cannot be indif¬
ferent in his. It instantly assumes an importance from the very con-
5
sideiation that it is forbidden. Other subjects, however in them¬
selves distinct from it, soon appear to have relations to it, till there
is scarcely one, in the whole circle of topics which concern the
welfare of man, in either his religious, domestic, social or civil
relations, which does not appear to be connected with it, or to
have some bearing towards it. Like our first great progenitor in the
garden of Eden, he will have the forbidden tree continually before
him. It is in the midst of the garden into which the Lord God
has put him, to dress and to keep it. Let him be in what part of
the garden he may, his eye will be turned towards it. Let- him
attempt to go across the garden from any point to any point, the
forbidden tree will be in his way. Let him climb what other tree
he will, to trim it or to pluck its fruits, he will see that, in some
of its ramifications, its branches are interlocked with those of tlie
forbidden tree. He cannot carry his plow through the soil—he
cannot strike his spade into it, but that he cuts off, or tears up,
some root that shoots out from the forbidden tree : till, in very
agony of spirit, he will flee from the field of his labour—the
garden of the Lord though it be—and will rejoice to see that a
flaming sword is drawn, over its gate, that he may never be tempt¬
ed to enter it again.
It would have been a poor boon which he who is " the Resur¬
rection and the Life," conferred upon his sleeping friend, when he
stood by tlie door of the sepulchre and cried, " Lazarus, come
forth!"—and when " he who had been dead came forth, bound hand
and foot, with his grave clothes on, and his face bound about with
a napkin"—if he had not superadded to the gift of life, the order,
" Loose him and let him go !"—So, when the Master saith, to any
one engaged in his ministry, " Come forth,—to this duty or to
tliat—Rise, and rebuke this fraud between the buyer and seller, or
that wrong between the employer and the employed"—let the
wrong-doer occupy what station in society he may ; if the minister
of Christ feels that he is bound, hand and foot, that he cannot rise;
or, that his face is bound about with a napkin, that he cannot speak
out distinctly and say, " Thou—thou art the man,"—good were it for
that minister that he had never been born, or that he were releas¬
ed at once from the chains of his bondage, even were it by chang¬
ing them for the still closer restraints of the grave.
6
And, tell me, my brethren, when I ask at your hands, in our
hrother's behalf, this freedom from dictation on your part, as to the
manner in which he shall discharge his professional duty, do I ask
for him any thing more than you always accord to other professional
men ?—Do yon say to the physician whom you " give a call" on
account of your bodily health, "Sir, you must prescribe no medicine
that is unpleasant to my taste, on penalty of my asking in other
advice ?" And, will you say this to your minister when the question
concerns not your body's but your soul's eternal health ? When
you consult a " counsellor at law" as to the validity of the title
deeds under which you hold a piece of real estate, do you dic¬
tate to him the opinion he must pronounce ? Do you say to Mm,
" Sir, I expect that you will not hurt my feelings by intimating that
my title to my property is not sound ; and, if you tell me thai it is
not, I shall never consult you again ?" And, need you to be told
that a title to an interest in the kingdom of heaven depends also
upon its conditions ? that that is a kingdom of laws ?—laws, too, that
are more established and more constant than are those which re¬
late to your lands and tenements on earth? laws, of which ere one
iota shall fail, the heavens and the earth shall pass away ?
I ask you, then, if jmu expect fidelity in your minister, to show
him only the same measure of professional deference, and allow
him only the same professional freedom which you accord to men
in other professions, in whom fidelity is expected, and in whom the
want of it would not and should not be excused.
I have said that, in order to be faithful in his ministry, your
pastor must he free. But he must be free not only in the pulpit:
he must be equally so out of it. You must allow him entire free¬
dom in regard to his domestic and social relations. So long as
he does his duty^ as a minister, let him enjoy society as a man-
Your minister, we trust is a man, and, as such, a sharer in the de¬
lights of society and the sympathies of humanity. Would you
ask—W'ould you have—a man for your minister, who has not a
friend, either in your circle or out of it ? Having friends, shall he
not find relaxation from his labours in the enjoyment of their soci¬
ety ? Will you deny him that which you rightfully claim for
yourselves? Do not, then, look jealously upon him, if you see that
he enters some of your neighbours' doors, oftener than he docs
yours. Rather seek his society, show an interest in his concerns
7
and welfare, if you wish him to feel an interest in yours. A minister
may show all good fidelity as such ; he may seek, and labour, and
pray for the good of all ; he may pour himself out as a sacrifice
upon the altar of his duty for the benefit of all;—yet will he,
(for it is not in man that he should not,) find himself drawn to¬
wards some by a stronger attraction, and bound to them by a
closer attachment, than to others. Now, to a great extent, it de¬
pends upon each one of you to say whether he shall be the fav¬
oured, or, if you please, the envied individual, himself; or wheth¬
er he will look with envy upon another, as enjoyirtg a dispropor¬
tionate share of your minister's society and friendly regards. If
your pastor is a wise man, or a son of wisdom, you cannot com¬
plain if he makes the language of Wisdom his own, and says, " I
love them that love me, and they that seek me shall find me."
Rather than restrict the movements of our friend among you,
then, by prohibitions in the pulpit, or by jealousies out of it, leave
him free. This is the indispensable condition of his faithfulness.
There is a condition also, of his usefulness in your service :—
your confidence. This will help him to help you. Your object is
one—the building up of the kingdom of God among you. You
have chosen him as your " master builder." Show him that you
regard him as a " wise" one, by doing what in you lies to coop¬
erate with him in your common enterprise. In this great work
there are diverse ministrations. The minister is not the whole
machinery of the Christian Church. He is an important part of it
—if you please, the balance wheel—raised by your will, and kept,
by what you give him for his support, above the collisions and
heats, above the clatter, and friction incident to the subordinate
parts, that, by his regular and independent movement, the labours of
the whole may be sustained and secure. Increase his force—ac¬
cumulate upon him the power which you would have him distribute,
by giving him more and more of your confidence ; and you will
find that he will thus be enabled to overcome the accidental collis¬
ions, and the friction that is inevitable in all human establishmentsi
as well as to carry you smoothly over the labouring points, with re¬
ference to which the whole machinery of the church is framed.
I have but one request more to make of you, ray friends, in be¬
half of our brother, who, this day, takes his place among you as
your minister.
8
It is, that you will be charitable in the judgment you pass upon
his performances, and that you will not be exorbitant in your de¬
mands upon him. I do not ask that he may be exempted from
labour, but simply that you will be satisfied with what he can do,
retaining, for your service, a sound mind in a sound body. As a
people, we are all running too fast. Ours is an age, and ours is
especially a land, of excitement. We wear ourselves out prema¬
turely in the eagerness of our pursuits. What is true of our coun¬
try in general is especially true here. The spirit that builds up
these streets, ciits these canals, and lines them with edifices full of
the hum of industry and the buzz of whirling machinery, is a
fervid spirit. Six days in the week you are running to and fro,
under the keen excitement of your peculiar position and pursuits;
and, the seventh, instead of seeking grateful and necessary repose,
you rush to the church, perhaps, expecting there the same excite¬
ment in the service of God that you have felt, all the week, in the
service of Mammon. Now these expectations will not always be
met. They cannot be. They ought not to be. It is not in man
to meet them without self-destruction, even if he would. Why,
my friends, look at the very water that drives your mills. While
it is thus serving you, it is constantly and rapidly running dorn.
The fuel which gives impulse to all your engines, and in which is
the hiding of their power, is consumed, while it is laboring for
your pleasure or your gain. And, have you yet to learn that, hy
intellectual labour, a man is exhausted —that, by the toil of the
mind, the body is consumed ? Judge charitably then of this, your
servant, and so long as you see fidelity to his trust, and a devotion
to your higher—your spiritual interests, do not expect always to
have occasion to say, as you are leaving the church, " This is one
of his very best sermons."
My friends, we leave our brother with yon. In the words of
the good Samaritan to the host, we say, "Take care of him." And,
" our hearts desire and prayer to God" for both you and him is,
that when not only your present relation, but your earthly hou'C
of this, tabernacle shall be dissolved, you may all find, awaiting yoi'i
" a building of God, a house not made with hands, eternal, in the
heavens."
«THE PERFECT HUMANITY, ACCORDING TO THE
PATTERN OP CHRIST."
A
SERMON,
DELIVERED AT THE
ORDINATION
OF
©o ®o ïFînnïFas
AT COHASSET,
NOV. 18, 1835.
BY WILLIAM P. LUNT,
Junior Minister of the First Congregational Society in Quincy.
PUBLISHED BY KEQUEST.
RINGHAM:
PRESS OF J. FARMER.
~l83 6.
SERMON
" WHOM WE PREACH, WARNING EVERT MAN, AND TEACHING EVERT
MAN IN ALL WISDOM, THAT WE MAT PRESENT EVERT MAN PERFECT IN
CHRIST JESDS."—Colossiatis, 1, 28.
The great object of preaching and teaching, as
expressed by the apostle in our text, is that men
may become " perfect in Christ Jesus." The same
idea is expressed by the same apostle, in another of
his epistles,—thus :
"And he gave some, apostles; and some, pro¬
phets ; and some, evangelists ; and some, pastors
and teachers ;
For the perfecting of the saints, for the work of
the ministry, for the edifying of the body of Christ ;
Till we all come, in the unity of the faith, and of
the knowledge of the Son of God, unto a perfect
man, unto the measure of the stature of the fulness
of Christ."
The perfect man—this is the great result at
which we aim, in building churches ; in supporting
the regular institutions of religion ; and in setting
apart from common cares and ordinary pursuits, a
body of men, whose special charge it shall be, to
defend and explain the principles upon which the
4
perfection of our nature depends. We preach Christ,
that you and ourselves may resemble Christ. We
meditate upon Christ's doctrine ; we contemplate
Christ's holy life, that we may grow " in the like¬
ness of him who is our head." The Revelation by
Christ is made, in order to effect a certain purpose
in and upon ourselves ;—not to influence God, but
to build up the " kingdom of God " in our own
souls.
On the present occasion, therefore, when we are
met together to introduce a new laborer into this
part of Christ's vineyard, I have thought of no sub¬
ject more appropriate, upon which to address you,
than the following, suggested by the text :—The
Perfect Humanity according to the pattern of Christ.
Whence, let me ask, do we derive the most complete
idea we are capable of entertaining, of human na¬
ture,—I do not mean of human nature as it is,—a
knowledge of that is derived from the living and
moving world;—but of human nature as it should
be, and as it may be, and as we hope it one day will
he ? Where is the picture of this perfect humanity
to be found ? A Christian audience, such as that
here present, can have but one answer to the ques¬
tion that has been proposed. In Christ. In Christ's
holy Gospel. In Christ's immaculate life. Christ
teaches us the only true doctrine concerning our
nature. Christ embodies, and sets forth in his own
person, the true idea of a perfect humanity.
It will be the object of this discourse to draw
some of the more prominent features of this "per-
5
feet man in Christ Jesus," and then compare it with
the " perfect man " of the schools, of poetry, and
of the world.
The Gospel sets forth the true principles accord¬
ing to which " the perfect man " may be formed.
But this was not all that was requisite and necessa¬
ry. There was needed an example in which these
principles might become incarnate, and be manifest
to men, be objects of sight ; and this was afforded
in the life of Jesus our Master. So then the Gos¬
pel gives us the theory of a " perfect humanity,"
and illustrates this theory in the person of the " Son
of Man."
But let it be observed, that Christianity, when it
presents to us the true theory of " man," does this,
not in a direct and formal way, but indirectly, by
implication. Christianity does not philosophise. It
gives us the substance without the form of wisdom,
it brings forward, with scholastic parade, no fine
speculations respecting the perfection of human na¬
ture. The idea we get of the " perfect man " of *
the Gospel is incidental. The features shine out
upon us unawares. The writers of the New Test¬
ament do not commence by saying—" Come, listen,
while we describe to you what our idea of human
perfection is : " and then go on to draw a labored
and exact delineation of some ideal character. This
is not their way. They describe in simple language
the life of their Master just as it was spent ; they
repeat faithfully his teachings with the several occa¬
sions that gave rise to them : and there the writers
6
leave the matters they narrate : their work is com¬
pleted : it remains for us—from the precepts which
Christianity enjoins, from the dispositions it incul¬
cates, from the feelings and frame of mind it would
induce, from the hopes it encourages, the affections
it cherishes, the virtues and graces it recommends,
above all, from the living exhibition of its principles
in the life of its blessed Author ;—it remains for us
I say—from all these several sources to gather the
materials for forming an idea of the " perfect man "
of the Gospel.
Let me solicit your attention to a few more re¬
flections, introductory to our main subject.
The doctrine as commonly held, of two natures
in Christ, the divine and human, is a metaphysical
refinement in theology which the plain, unsophisti¬
cated, Bible Christian will esteem as of little worth.
But that he came not only to reveal by his doctrine,
but to set forth in his own person^ the two natures,
the divine and the human ^—and that he served the
double purpose, on the one hand as the Son of God,
of bringing from heaven an image of the awful
mysteries of the Godhead, so far as the divine at¬
tributes need to be known by mortals ;—and on the
other hand, as the Son of Man, of holding up to
the world's observation a glorious representation of
humanity, of what man may become, of what he
ought to become ;—this is a true and important view
of Christ's mediatorial office. In executing one
part of this sublime office, he brought down the
Lternal Father to the comprehension and hearts of
7
mankind. God in Christ is manifest to us. The
Invisible One is beheld through the medium of the
Son. As he himself declared to one of his disciples,
" He that hath seen me hath seen the Father."
The perfections of the Sovereign of the Universe
are understood through him who came to reflect
upon us a few of the rays of that ineffable glory
which " no man hath seen, or can see and live."—
Of God's essence we can comprehend nothing. " It
is knowledge too high for us, we cannot attain unto
it." Nor can we conceive that such knowledge,
even if attainable, would be desirable or useful.
What practical purpose would it serve ? How would
it " help our inflrmities," or encourage us in our
trials, or sustain our virtue, or increase our happi¬
ness ? And if it would serve none of these purpo¬
ses, then we must consider ourselves in a better con¬
dition without such knowledge than we should be
with it. The only knowledge of God that a moral
being like man needs and has occasion for on earth,
is an acquaintance with certain attributes of the
Deity ; with his dispositions towards his human
family ; his purposes with regard to this world ; thje
end for which he created us ; the principles upon
which his government of the universe is administer¬
ed ; the terms upon which he will pardon sin, and
confer happiness here and hereafter. Knowledge of
this kind is practical, just what man needs ; and is
essentially and immediately related to man's salva¬
tion. And to convey such knowledge respecting
God, seems to be one of the chief purposes of a
8
Revelation. Á Revelation of God for the sake of
human salvation must be of such Divine attributes
or dispositions as we have an interest in. For in¬
stance, a revelation of God's veracity is important.
For we are evidently interested to know that God
is true, and that his promises can be relied on.
That is, we have relations to this attribute—the
Divine Veracity. So too of the Divine Justice and
the Divine Mercy : it is surely of the highest im¬
portance to lis to know whether God will be "strict
to mark iniquity " or not. We have some real re¬
lations to these attributes of Justice and Mercy;
some real interest in them ; our happiness is wholly
dependent on them.
The Christian will reverence Christ as a mani¬
festation of the Godhead in the sense we have ex¬
plained, not of the Divine Nature and Essence, but
of the Divine Perfections and character; and he
will see in the Gospel the opening of those myster¬
ies in the Divine Decrees and Purposes, which had
been fast closed from the foundation of the world,
but are now in Christ revealed, so far as is necessa¬
ry and useful for men in this wmrld, and for all the
substantial objects of life.
But there is another part of Christ's office quite
as essential as that we have been describing, to the
salvation of man,—and that is,—to reveal to uso«r
own nature ; to teach us what we are ; to mani¬
fest to us what we may become ; to open the mys¬
teries of the human soul ; to bring before the soul s
consciousness a distinct picture of what it is, 31"^
9
what it is capable of. There are diverse principles
in our constitution, some of which are apt to con¬
flict with others. We need instruction as to the
due cultivation of these several principles, so that
they may unite in forming an harmonious and beau¬
tiful result. It is as important to reveal the true
humanity as the true divinity ; the one is a coun¬
terpart to the other in the scheme of Redemption.
Jesus, who, according to the Scriptures, was " the
express image of God's person," was also the im¬
age of a perfect humanity ,• and it is in the last-
mentioned character that the present discourse
chiefly regards the Saviour.
There is nothing we are more familiar with than
with ourselves. And yet this familiarity is not the
same, by any means, as thorough knowledge of our¬
selves. Indeed it often deceives us, and prevents a
more perfect acquaintance with our own nature.
Most men will give a ready assent, when they are
told that Christ came to reveal the nature of God.
But they do not so easily perceive the necessity for
revealing the mysteries of the human nature.—
" What is plainer, more intelligible than our own
selves," they ask ; " and what is easier than to
propose rules for the regulation of the conduct, and
a model for the formation of character ? " Such a
question betrays the superficial character of their
reflections and knowledge.
It is not an easy matter to propose right rules for
the conduct ; nor is it a common, every-day task to
set forth a specimen of a new kind of character.
2
10
There are various styles, so to speak, of humanity,
And to invent by means of the imagination and taste
some new order of architecture, is but a faint image
of the greatness of his accomplishment who furnish¬
es a new and nobler style of humanity ; who makes
us look upon ourselves with new eyes, and contem¬
plate our nature with an unwonted admiration and
reverence. Shall we therefore celebrate those great
geniuses who have made the most astonishing and
the most beneficial inventions in science, or have
enlarged to an unknown extent the bounds of know¬
ledge, and depreciate the^ divine labors of him who
discovers and sets forth a new order of humanity;
who proposes a new scale of the virtues ; who as¬
signs an entirely new relative rank to moral princi¬
ples ; who brings about a complete revolution in
men's moral judgments ; who dethrones from their
seat in the world's affections some qualities of char¬
acter that had been the idols of generations, and
raises up to an honorable distinction other qualities
that had before been despised and neglected ; who
discloses to mankind certain springs of action that
had never before been perceived ; and who, in fine, re¬
commends and illustrates in his own example a spe¬
cies of character, which, in the course of time, is
destined to change the whole aspect of society, to
alter the relations of men to each other, and affect
the condition of countless millions? Is this a small
thing to be lightly estimated ? O no. Call it, if
you please, a small thing that Columbus, guided by
the suggestions of a bold^original mind, crossed the
11
unknown ocean, made for himself a path through its
waves to the land we live in, and following the star
of Providence came to this birth-place of a new
empire in the west. Call it a small thing, if you
please, that Newton, guided by the sublime instincts
of genius, interpreted to men the till then unknown
book of nature, traced the laws that governed the
world of matter, and by an almost superhuman asso¬
ciation of ideas, connected the fall of an apple with
the revolutions of the stars. But say not so, skep¬
tic, of him, who so well " knew what was in man,"
that he could breathe the breath of life into the dead
carcass of the moral world ; that he could produce
a scene of order and loveliness where all before had
been confusion and deformity ; that he could rise
above prejudice, and passion, and custom, and local,
temporary opinions, and consider only what is per¬
manent in man's moral constitution. This is a task,
we may well conclude, beyond the utmost, unaided
abilities of man. Jesus accomplished this task,
hopeless as it was in a wordly point of view. And
he has been through his system the legislator of mil¬
lions of the race. Nor have the powerful and ben¬
eficial influences of his system been exerted on in¬
dividuals alone. Through individuals they have
been extended to communities and nations. Codes
of laws, constitutions of government, bills of rights,
penal enactments, what is called the common law,
the result of immemorial usages and customs, which
have themselves been determined in an essential de¬
gree by the spirit of Christianity,—all these attest
12
the genial and benignant influence of that new doc¬
trine and new manifestation of humanity which
the Gospel aflbrds.
But let us pass on to consider more particularly
the principal features in the " perfect man " of the
Gospel. Instead of attempting any full description,
which would be in fact only a repetition of the life
of our Lord as related by the Evangelists, I shall
aim to bring forward some of the principles which
seem to enter into the composition of this new and
perfect humanity.
1. And in the first place it may be remarked,
that the religious principle is an essential element
in " the perfect man." Indeed this is the foundation
of a true humanity. There have been systems of
philosophy, we know, and there have been pretend¬
ed wise men who have rejected this principle; but
in so doing they have sadly misunderstood the con¬
stitution of man and the purposes of the Creator.
Were it our design to forma " perfect animal,"
then it would only be necessary to attend to the de¬
velopment and cultivation of the bodily powers,
and to provide that nourishment and exercise which
would best serve the purposes of growth, strength
and beauty. But this " perfect animal " would
not be a " perfect man." Again, were it our ob¬
ject to create a purely intellectual being, it might
be allowed to be sufficient, to excite the mind by
material objects, and employ it solely upon "things
seen and temporal." But neither would this perfect
intellectual being answer to the best conception we
13
can form of man. Again, were it cur object to
cultivate the social sympathies and the benevolent
affections of the heart, this might be done, albeit
imperfectly, by presenting only worldly objects of
regard, and by attending only to the ordinary rela¬
tions which the creature sustains to his fellow-mor¬
tals, to the perishing friends upon whom he fixes
his regards on earth. But neither would this being
of affection and sentiment, nor would an union of
the other two, the animal and the intellectual, with
this, come up to our idea of the " perfect humanity."
No. " There is a spirit in man." He is made in
" the image of God." He has a spiritual nature.
He is endowed with affections which find no satis¬
fying objects on earth. There are sentiments in his
soul whose proper food is in the world of spirits.
There are currents in his mind setting continually
towards eternity. There is a hope within him
which can be filled with nothing short of immortality.
There is a fountain of love in his heart which no¬
thing but the plenitude of God^s perfections can
exhaust. There are the seeds of an angelic virtue
in man's nature which nothing can quicken but the
sense of obligation to a Supreme Being, and the
prospect of God's favor, or the " fearful looking for
of judgment to come." Alas ! that any should ever
be so blind to their own nature, as to imagine that
a " perfect humanity " could be built up while th#se
highest, noblest principles and affections were dis¬
regarded or despised.
But I shall perhaps here be reminded that Chris-
14
tianity is not the only system which regards man as
a spiritual being, and cultivates his spiritual desires
and affections. This is true indeed. There were
other systems in the world before the " word was
made flesh." In every age, and under the most
disadvantageous, discouraging circumstances have
man's reWghas instincts pointed to heaven, to "the
unseen and the Eternal."
2. I go on, therefore, to say in the second place,
that as a total want or skeptical neglect of the relig¬
ious principle is a capital deficiency in any system,
which proposes to teach the true doctrine concern¬
ing our nature, so a perversion or wrong cultivation
of this principle may spoil the pattern of humanity.
And this has been lamentably the case in every age
of the world. History is full of the sad detail of
the mistakes and corruptions which have attended
religion. We may imagine the Genius of History
weeping as she writes down for the instruction of
coming ages the follies, the errors, the absurdities,
the crimes, that have passed current under the
" image and superscription " of religion. Of the
several perversions of the religious principle that
have prevailed among men, the more prominent are
superstition, enthusiasm, fanaticism, bigotry, ration¬
alism. When either of these spiritual diseases be¬
comes seated in the system, our humanity languish¬
es, and becomes a corrupt -rr^. Now it is one of
the chief distinctions of Christianity that it gives
the due cultivation to all the principles of our nature,
and at the same time steers clear of all these exces-
15
ses and foul blemishes. If we will but consider,
under this head of our subject, the manner in which
Christianity treats the principle of failh, we shall
readily perceive that it guards the minds of its dis¬
ciples from superstition. The spirit of the Gospel is
not, as one of its apostles reminds us, a spirit of fear,
" but of a sound mind" It appeals tö reason. It
harmonises with the best conclusions of the intellect.
The electric fluid, which is so essential to the healthy
state of the atmosphere, may become dangerous
through excess or deficiency. So too in religion.
But Christianity guards against the too much and the
too little. Compare the frivolous or debasing or
sanguinary notions that have usurped a place in
human belief, with the mild, the sober, the calm, the
rational tenets of the Gospel, and you will not fail
to realiie that " the perfect man " is only to be
found in Christ.
Or again, consider, under this same head, the
manner in which Christianity treats the principle of
Hope, and you will perceive how it secures the
minds of its disciples against enthusiasm and fanat¬
icism. Hope is the healthy exercise of the imagi¬
nation : enthusiasm and fanaticism are the mournful
results of an imagination too much heated, and filled
with false images. It would be a defect in our
religion if it furnished no exercise for a part of
man's constitution so important as imagination.
But it is not liable to any charge of this kind. It
does excite this part of our nature, but the excite¬
ment it yields is of a safe sort. It presents charm-
16
ing visions to the soul : but these are soothing as
well as elevating. It offers to the contemplation of
the believer a prospect of good, " such as eye hath
not seen, nor ear heard, nor hath it entered into the
heart of man to conceive." It holds up to the
Christian warrior a " crown of glory." It whispers
to the sick, and the bereaved, and the weary, of a
land where pain is not known, where " tears are
wiped from all eyes," where " the weary are at
rest." But, my hearers, in all this,—beautiful and
exciting as it well may be to the imagination, there
is no danger of enthusiasm. For Christianity re¬
minds us at the same time, in a tone calculated to
repress all presumption, that thèse visions of future
good will only be reali^d by the faithful, that that
crown is only for the conqueror of sin, that that
rest " remaineth only for the people of God." It
is this union of admonition with encouragement, of
precept with promise, that makes the glorious reve¬
lations of the Gospel safe to man. Compare again
the intoxicating stimulus of false systems with the
genial refreshing warmth that is breathed over the
spirit by Christian Hope, and you will reali|e
that " the perfect man " is only to be found m
Christ.
Or, consider yet once more, under this same head
of our subject, the manner in which Christianity
treats the affections in our nature, and you will
perceive how it guards its disciples against bigotry
and against rationalism, one of the worst perversions
of the religious principle. The affections separate
17
themselves into two grand divisions—"Love to God,
and love to man," and in both of these does Chris¬
tianity come up to the highest requisitions that can
be made upon it. It supplies suitable and worthy
objects to the highest sentiments that can possess
the human soul. God the Father^ ~ Christ the
Man of sorrows, the Redeemer, the Lamb that
was slain for us, the Intercessor and Advocate,
and the Holy Spirit, that " helpeth our infirmities "
—" the Comforter "—what objects better suited
than these to exercise our highest and purest affec¬
tions, and to fan the flame of divine love in the soul?
Is Christianity merely a rational system ? Is it
intended solely for the culture of the intellect, a
mass of dry and barren speculations ? Do they
know the Gospel experimentally, who consider it
merely in the light of a philosophical system, or as
affording materials for filling out a creed ; who have
piled up their faggots, and prepared the offering on
the altar, while ail that is wanting is just what is
most needed, a fire to consume the victim and to
send up the sweet savor to heaven ?
Moreover Christianity guards its disciples against
bigotry, intolerance, and the hateful brood of atten¬
dant vices, by the " love to man," the untiring, per¬
severing charity with which it animates the soul.
O compare it, compare it in this respect also with
the exclusive, the persecuting, the blood thirsty sys¬
tems that have desolated the earth, which have held
out the creed in one hand and the sword in the
other, which have had for their express object to
3
la
madden the bad passions of men, to set each one
against his brother,—do this, and you will not fail
to realiie that " the perfect man " is only to be
found in Christ. The " true humanity " has been
transformed into the nature of demons, by the false
systems of man's own device. It recovers its na¬
tive loveliness under the gentle influences of Chris¬
tian charity. The Gospel developes and nurtures
that peculiar modification of temper and feeling,
which has by way of distinction and excellence re¬
ceived the name of humanity. A tender care for
the old, the infirm, the sick, the afflicted ; a dispo¬
sition to forgive injuries, a generous and magnani¬
mous treatment of one's enemies, a disposition to
feed the hungry, clothe the naked, and relieve, as
far as in us lies, the distressed of whatever clime, or
nation, or sect—these virtues are the peculiar pro¬
duct of the Christian soil.
3. The next element which Christianity furnishes
to form " the perfect man " is that to which I would
now invite your attention. It is found in the fact
that Christianity proposes no exact, precisely defined
and limited amount of attainment and virtue; it
does not furnish a full and complete directory of
conduct ; does not specify minutely what shall be
done and what omitted. This is not its way. This
is not the genius of our religion. It takes a differ¬
ent and a far better course. It seeks to instil feel¬
ings, to establish principles, to encourage dispositions
in the soul, which shall be applied by their posses¬
sor in constantly new ways to conduct. It opens a
19
fountain within which shall continually send out
sweet, refreshing, life-giving streams. Hence we
perceive the reason why it insists, so much as it
does, upon faith, upon inward conviction. Com¬
pare Christianity with Judaism which preceded it,
and you perceive the immense superiority of our
religion in its mode of procedure. Judaism pre¬
sented to its disciples a Laio, an exact enumeration
of offences and righteous acts, and the righteousness
of the Law was consequently in a great degree me¬
chanical, what St. Paul terms the "weak and beg¬
garly elements " of virtue. Obedience, literal obe¬
dience was what was required of the true Israelite.
Not so with the Gospel. Jesus sought to build up
the " kingdom of God," to establish the reign of
pure and holy principles in the soul ,• faith, inward
'conviction—this was to be the throne upon which
Christian conscience was to be elevated, and from
this throne it was to issue its own decrees, and es¬
tablish laws of conduct, and sway the life with a
supreme authority. Self-government, an inward
law, the image of God the Judge ever present to
the mind, these were what Christianity aimed to
accomplish ; and this mode of operation was suited
to an advanced, and more cultivated period of the
world's history. Judaism treated mankind as ser¬
vants, and proposed therefore particular, minute di¬
rections. Christianity treats mankind as children.
We must aim at perfection if we would be true
Christians. We are commanded to say when we
have done all,—that we are unfaithful servants.
20
We are urged to " forget the things that are behind,
and to press forward."
And let me ask, in concluding this head of my
subject, have we not here presented to us the true
idea of "the perfect man?" Suppose for an in¬
stant the great purpose of the Gospel fulfilled ; that
the conscience is armed with the heavenly panoply
offaith, as Christ intended, that the moral has
been allied in this way to the spiritual, that the
soul has been united to God, that virtue is leaning
upon its best support—devotion—suppose this—and
then you will be ready to say whether in this picture
is not reali|ed the " perfect humanity."
4. The last element in the "perfect man" to
which I shall call your thoughts at present is this.
The model of humanity which our religion furnish¬
es is such as can be copied by all of whatever station
or rank in life. Christianity is not visionary ; does
not propose that which is attainable only by a few,
by the favored few, who have talents and leisure,
and refinement of mind. Christianity addresses all,
addresses its hopes and promises and threatenings
to all ; and seeks to form all in the image of him
who was perfect. It makes no requisitions which
the children of poverty cannot fulfil. It encourages
no luxurious retirement from the common offices of
life. It would have its blessed spirit mingled in the
ordinary routine of daily duties. It calls those
saints, and those only^who are good men. It en¬
joins no rigorous self-mortifications ; no idle penan¬
ces ; no straining after false ecstacies ; no unnatural
21
denial of innocent enjoyments ; no wanton self ex¬
ecrations ; no useless reveries ; no unholy indolence,
disguised under the name of holy musings ; no ab¬
juring of the world. No—these are the devices of
weak man, not the ways of the Gospel. It is
founded in common sense, and seeks to nourish a
" humanity " such as is needed among the real
scenes of active life.
And here seems to be the proper place for com¬
paring the " perfect man of the Gospel " with the
" perfect man," as understood by the world at large,
or by the philosopher, or by the poet. The world's
idea of " the perfect man " is generally summed up
in a few words " the perfect animal : " we may
therefore lay this altogether out of the account.
The philosopher has also drawn his picture of the
" perfect man." But what is the picture ? Not to
mention those systems of philosophy which have
entirely neglected to consider the spiritual and relig¬
ious principle in human nature, to which allusion has
already been made, we may say generally that the
philosopher's idea of perfection has proved a mere
abstraction, fitted only for the closet of the medit¬
ating student, but ill adapted to the actual circum¬
stances of society. He has generally been an un¬
social being, fixed at an awful distance from his
fellow creatures, devoid of all kindly sympathies,
proud of his elevation, and looking down with a
feeling of contempt upon the follies and the crimes
of the busy world beneath, never once thinking of
holding out a hand to save, or lifting up a voice of
instruction and counsel.
22
And the poet has had his idea too of " the per¬
fect man." And what is it ? A being of sensibili¬
ties wasted upon trifles, of generous purposes with¬
out any rational aim, of romantic daring leading to
no useful practical result, of brilliant genius, without
stable principles, of sentiment without virtue, of
love without true friendship, of benevolence without
sympathy, a mere pJiantoBr of the imagination, as
far removed from any thing real as the fastidious
taste of the creator could estrange it.
I need not ask how these compare with the
" perfect man in Christ."
But I am admonished that I am engrossing too
much of your time on this interesting occasion. 1
therefore draw myself from the subject, and turn to
commend the principles which have been so imper¬
fectly illustrated in this discourse,—to you, my
brother, on whose account we are here assembled.
It will be your glorious privilege. Sir, (I will not
call it your task) to unfold to this waiting, listening
people the truths of the Gospel, " warning every
man, and teaching every man in all wisdom, that
you may present every man perfect in Christ Jesus.
The office has been assigned to another of express¬
ing to you the sentiments of Christian affection with
which you are greeted by these assembled churches.
But this need not prevent me from concluding with
the wish that you may be prospered and honored in
this the place of your choice.
RIGHT HAND OF FELLOWSHIP,
BY
REV. GEORGE WHITNEY, OF ROXBURY.
I PRESENT you my cordial congratulations, my
friend and brother, on the happy auspices of this
day. And needless indeed would he all further
words, if the service it is my grateful privilege to
perform on this occasion, were to he expressive only
of my own feelings—of small moment surely to
those who hear me—and adding nothing to what I
am sure you must already know are my sympathies
with you. But I stand before you in the name of
these assembled churches, who have come up hither
to lend their cooperation and counsels—to give their
hearts and their blessings to your connection with
this people, and I speak for them. They hid me
offer you, what is more than mine, their cheerful
and hearty sympathy, their warmest and kindest
wishes—their promise to solace and succor and re¬
joice with you, whenever you may feel that their
solace and succor and rejoicing may encourage and
help you in the path where you have set your feet
—in promoting the spiritual interests of the kingdom
of the Son of God.
24
Accept, sir, in the name of these Churches and
ministers, this right hand of our fellowship, the
world's token of a friendly greeting,—of how much
broader significance when regarded as the expression
of a Christian salutation ! the pledge of a Christian
union ! We give our hand, that in the spirit of a
Christian salutation we may greet your commence¬
ment here—that with the promise of a Christian
union, henceforth and evermore while your ministry
shall last, we may approve ourselves affectionate
fellow laborers with you in the cause, and so be
found at last worthy servants of the master we fol¬
low ;—for you remember, my brother, and we de¬
sire also to remind ourselves, how he said " By this
shall all men know that ye are my disciples, if ye
have love one to another."
It may not be for us to inform you, already, we
feel assured, well established in this knowledge in
the school of the Prophets, and whom in its ignor¬
ance we should count but poorly girded for a cham¬
pion here, even though you might wear the badge of
the cross, and be called a minister,—it may not be
for us, I say, to inform you, what a deep sympathy
—what a broad and sincere, self-denying and richly-
rewarding fellowship the letter even and much more
also the spirit of our holy religion enforces. But
we may rejoice with you as, while we offer you our
congratulations this day, it is meet that we should,
that it hath pleased the God and Father of our Lord
Jesus Christ to reveal to the world the glad tidings
of such a faith—binding all those, who open their
25
hearts to it, by the cords of a surpassing attachment,
alluring us to its celestial triumphs over the world's
selfishness—and the contractedness of a merely per¬
sonal gratification,—revealing beneath the waters,
where we are baptized into its spirit, priceless gems
to meet the deep wants of our nature, and opening
in the seams of its mountains of benevolence and
love untold treasures of satisfaction—the peace ver¬
ily passing all understanding. How is this religion
oft times dishonored, my friend, by those who think
themselves chanting its praises ! What a poor eulo-
gium do they pay it ; how shallow are their fathom-
ings into its bottomless wells who speak in the or¬
dinary tones that we hear of its sympathies between
man and man ! as if to rejoice with him when he is
glad and to weep with him when he is mourning,
constituted the peculiar crown and were the ex¬
hausting sum of its precepts of sympathy ! Why,
when this religion was yet in the hidden purposes
of the Father, or swimming in its indistinct revela¬
tions before the rapt visions of the prophets, a cold
interest or a selfish communion in common objects
of aggrandisement, power or plunder, inspired in
men as much attachment and touched as strong
sympathies as this. We might have learned as
much from the criminal and lawless ones, who
gathered on Rome's seven hills and framed the
foundation of the imperial city. We might have
learned as much from almost every horde of savages
and every band of robbers, pirates on the sea and
pillagers on the land, from that day to this. We
4
26
learn better things, and hear higher teachings from
the religion of the blessed Jesus, even a love like
his for man, fired as with a torch from on high with
a readiness to sacrifice our own ease and pleasure,
renouncing our own good for their good, triumphing
over obstacles for them, bearing great trials and
proving stronger than death.
Let me not enlarge upon the sympathy Christian¬
ity inculcates lest it should lead me too far. Permit
me, however, to remark what are my own strong
convictions, that it becomes us the ministers of this
jeligion, both among ourselves and all with whom
and upon whom we may act, more and more to im¬
bibe and illustrate the true spirit of Christian sym¬
pathy. There is need, believe me, of all our fellow¬
ship and that it be directed the right way. The
times demand it, to urge nothing higher. There is
even danger, if I mistake not great danger, that the
laity, those to whom we preach, will drink deeper
of its spirit than we. Mosheim, I think, somewhere
remarks that in all great reformations it hath so
happened that the laity have led the way, and he
more than half intimates, if 1 remember light, that
from the nature of things they are destined so to do.
Shall we, my brother, whose special work it is to
promote the advancement of Christian truth, submit
to be thus outdone ? I speak not now of the radi¬
calism of the day, with much of which I have no
sympathy, and which in large measures, it seems to
me, is greatly to be deprecated. But the .truth is
the mass of men are springing to a closer lunion.
27
They are tired of the old walls of partition. They
are breaking down the fences that have kept them
asunder. They are snapping in pieces like threads
the artificial chains, by which they have been con¬
strained. Who, that takes a keen survey of the
face of things, does not perceive how feeble, how
utterly impotent are creeds and doctrines, orthodox
or liberal, to satisfy the craving for fellowship and
mutual sympathy, God hath set like an imperious
king on the throne of the human soul ? With what
an eager and earnest speed are the lovers of man
rushing out from their peculiar modes of worship,
rolling up their parchments of doctrines and flinging
them aside, that, no longer restrained, they may
breathe the free air of a common union ! In what
a busy, confiding, inventive communion do we find
all sects on the wide fields of Christian philanthropy,
with no herald as at the tournaments of old calling
for their credentials or stopping even to inquire
whether they be of Paul or Apollos ! Let any one
look for proof to those who fill the ranks in all the
benevolent movements of the age. We find the
Universalist and the Baptist, the Unitarian and the
Methodist, the Calvinist and the Free Thinker, more
of a Christian after all than he is willing to allow,
standing side by side and shoulder to shoulder. Let
us not mourn, as do some, over this endless division
of the Christian world into sects, for as has been
rather quaintly but very truly remarked, " men travel
fastest to heaven on their own roads." But let us
rejoice that their hearts are stirring within them to
28
higher interests than those of a sect or a party, that
they are growing enamoured of that sympathy which
lays hold of the strongest affections of our nature
and allies us to the blessed Deity.
Be this the fruit of the fellowship, with which we
welcome you, this day, to this new scene of your
trials, labors, and very great rewards. And yet after
all, my brother, count not upon it too much,—turn
not towards it for more relief than it can grant.
What is—what must necessarily be all our fellow¬
ship ? Let us not mislead you—let us not promise
more than we can give. Here is to be the peculiar
field of your labors,—and ours is for each one of us
elsewhere. We can give you our counsels when
you think them worth having,—and we trust that
yours will be ready in the hour of need for us,—our
prayers also—and may they avail with yours at the
mercy seat to save us all from coldness, and apathy
and unfaithfulness, and hearts not right with God.
But there are trials for you here according to the
common allotment, we cannot feel, nor could we
much alleviate them if we did ;—perplexities our
eyes cannot aid you to see through or help you to
unravel ; and what is more, my brother, comforts,
satisfactions, rewards in your ministry with this
people, your own tongue will be too feeble to ex¬
press—and our hearts cannot respond to in all their
magnitude, though we greatly rejoice with you in
them all. You must find your closer fellowship
with the hearts of your flock, with the deep and si¬
lent communings of your own soul, and more than
29
all and above all a constant and holy intercourse
with the Father of the spirits of all flesh.
And now, my friend, in the spirit of our early and
candid friendship, let me give utterance to one sol¬
emn thought which presses itself upon me as I greet
you to this ministry-—and recur to the spiritual
Guide * in whose place you are henceforth to be
standing, long blessed with the confidence and re¬
spect of this people,—and to him, nearer to yourself
than he, your much honored Father,! whose kind
services in many painful hours it would ill become
me to pass lightly by, and who would have grasped
your hand on a day like this with a warmth and
happiness beyond ours. When I remember how
suddenly they were both called hence—from what
active services on earth they were summoned to their
rest and their rewards above, methinks there will
come to you from the memory of both deep tones
of warning to be faithful while you live, and every
hour ready for the reckoning that must follow your
stewardship. May God Almighty bless you out of
the treasures of his grace—give you strength to do
and to bear his will, make you faithful in this your
lot and so prepare you for his call. May he grant
you a long, a successful, and, if it may please his
* Rev. Jacob Flint, Pastor of the First Congregational Church and
Society in Cohasset, who dropped dead, as he entered the house of
his friend, after having preached and administered the Communion
service at Marshfield, Sunday noon, October 11th, 1835.
t Dr. Thomas Phipps, of Quincy, a much respected and widely
beloved Physician, who likewise dropped dead before his house,
having just left it apparently in good health, August 30th, 1832.
30
mercy, a traaquil ministry. May the hearts of this
people be cemented to yours. May the communion
and fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with you.
And when our right hands are in the dust,—when
we have no earthly salutation to offer and you have
none to desire,—may you be welcomed to the
promised fellowship among the spirits of just ones
made perfect in the bright firmament on high.
SI
ORDER OF SERVICES
At the Ordination of Mr. Harrison Grat Otis Phipps, as Pastor
of the First Congregational 'Chnrch and Society in Cohasset, on
Wednesday, November 18,1835.
i. anthem.
II. INTRODUCTORT PRATER—BT REV. «. BROOKS;, OF HIN6HAM.
III. SELECTIONS FROM SCRIPTURE—BT REV. H. ALLEN, OF PEMBROKE.
IV. HYMN—BY MR. F. Su. WHITNEY.
Servant of God ! from earth called home,
A grateful people's heart
Thy memory guards ! while years FhaM come
Can memory depart ?
Broken the golden bowl, unbound
The silver cord of life ;
The Priest in robes, death's angel found.
Called from the Christian strife.
Spirit of sadness hence ! this hour
Joy for the youthful might
That stronger made by heaveiily power
Would ask for heavenly light.
With holy trust and faithful heart,
Great God, thy servant bless,
Sound faith, a sacred zeal impart.
Long years of usefulness.
And, Father, bless thy children here.
With him thy love has given ;
Till he and they with thee appear.
Earth's service o'er, in heaven.
v. SERMON—BY REV. WILLIAM P. LUNT, OF QUINCT.
VI. ORDAININO PRAYER—BY REV. PETER WHITNEY, OF qOINCT.
32
VII. HYMN—BY MR. C. P. CRANCH.
O Thou, who once didst from above
Upon thy priests and prophets, pour
The spirit of thy power and love—
Thy blessing, Lord, we now implore :
Thy blessing, like the dews of heaven.
To us who now before thee bend.
And upon him whom thou hast given
To be our Pastor and our friend.
As now in union firm we stand,
May heart to heart be ever bound ;
And long amidst our brother-band
May love and joy and peace be found.
And from this sacred house of thine.
May every worthy prayer be heard.
Whilst hearts are gathering at thy shrine,
Or meditating on thy word.
And let thy truth like star-light fall
Upon thy servant's untried way-
Still shining as a path for all—
And brightning to the perfect day.
In life be with him—and when death
Shall fling its shadow o'er his way,
O lead us with a trusting faith
To soar with him beyond decay.
VIII. CHARGE—BY REV. DR. LOWELL, OF BOSTON.
IX. RIGHT HAND OF FELLOWSHIP—BY REV. G. WHITNEY, OP BOXBURT.
X. CONCLUDING PRAYER—BY REV. E. 1^. SEWALL, OF SCITÜATE.
XI. ANTHEM.
XII. BENEDICTION.
THE SPIRIT OF THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY.
, A
SERMON
DELIVERED AT THE ORDINATION
OF THE
REV. JOHN PARKMAN
TO THE PASTORAL CARE OF THE
3ri)tvti eíiutcl)
IN GREENFIELD,
OCT. XI, MDCCCXXXVII.
BY FRANCIS PARKMAN, D. D.
MINISTER OF THE NEW NORTH CHURCH, BOSTON.
BOSTON:
PRINTED BY SAMUEL N. DICKINSON 52 WAS IIINGTON STREET.
1837.
2 Timothy, 1. 7.
God hath not given to us the spirit of fear, but
of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.
In these words we are taught the source and nature
of that spirit, which it pleases the Lord of the spirit to
impart to the faithful servants of his son. Like every
good gift it Cometh from above. It proceeds from Him,
who is the fountain of light, the author of all holy
influence to his church and to his people. But as in
his manifold wisdom there is a diversity of operation, it
may also be regarded as the natural result of the faith
we profess, and of the service in which we are engaged.
Very pregnant and expressive are the terms in which
the apostle exhibits it to his son Timothy. It is a spirit
not of fear that depresses and enslaves the soul ; not of
fear for ourselves or for the truth, for it reposes on the
faithfulness of God, and thence partaking even of a
divine power it becomes a holy courage, quickened by
love, and guided by a sound discretion : courage to
endure and to perform, to suffer affliction, to bear disap¬
pointment, and to preach the gospel. And since that
gospel is love, it inspires love, love to God and to men.
4.
a wide and comprehensive charity, that embraces Jew
and Gentile, and the whole family under heaven ; a love
that can bear all things, and hope all things, that is so
generous and disinterested as to rejoice in the good that
is done by others, and in the progress of truth and
righteousness, though it be not in our name, or for our
glory ; a love, which is no blind or feeble impulse, that
may betray to extravagance or folly, but under the
guidance always of a sound mind, of prudence dwelling
with discretion, including discernment of the truth and
wise conduct.
Here, then, is a spirit at once of courage, of kindness,
and discretion ; like that which was poured without
measure upon Christ Jesus; and which through the
influence of his truth upon their hearts may be shared
by his faithful disciples and servants of every age. Nor
has there ever been a period of the christian church from
the day of its first establishment, at which there was
not need of the exercise of this spirit. And though
with the blessing of God we of the present day are
exempted from those outward trials of reproach and
persecution and death, to which apostles and martyrs
and the early confessors were subjected, yet has every
age its peculiar dangers, and to us ministers of Christ,
as to all other classes of men, there are duties to be
fulfilled, temptations to he resisted, and dangers to be
escaped, which will require from us that we he
without fear ; that we be strengthened with all might ;
that our hearts be warmed by love, and that both in our
5
preaching and in our lives we exhibit sound wisdom and
discretion.
Let us look at some of the dangers and duties of
ministers at the present day, that seem especially to
demand the exercise of such a spirit as the apostle de¬
scribes. On an occasion like the present, interesting to
the cause of our common faith as well as to the church,
at whose call we are assembled ; when we are to intro¬
duce another laborer into the gospel vineyard, and
welcome another brother to the ministry of Christ
Jesus, it cannot be unsuitable to survey, though it must
be at a glance, the duties upon which he is to enter, and
the preparation of heart, which is essential to their
fulfilment.
I can speak only of some of the dangers and duties
of ministers at the present day, leaving to your own
reflections, my christian fathers and brethren, the appli¬
cation of my text.
Every age, I have said, has its peculiar duties and
dangers. The present is in no sense exempt from them.
On the other hand it exhibits much to awaken the so¬
licitude and to call forth the efforts both of ministers
and of people. And whether we look to the condition
of our churches within, or to the varied aspects of the
world without ; to the changes, not to say revolutions,
in opinion affecting essentially the social and religious
interests of society, we shall see enough to satisfy us,
how much we need, both as members of the body poli¬
tic and of the church of God, the guidance of a heavenly
charity, the spirit of love and of a sound mind.
6
If now it should be enquired, what is it that distin¬
guishes the present from any former period in our
churches, and what are these changes, or tendencies to
change, of which you speak ? I answer, in the first
place, that none is more obvious than the feeble and
fluctuating state of our religious societies ; the substitu¬
tion of a temporary for a permanent ministry ; and
within even our smallest villages, of the divided and
consequently the weak, for what was once united,
strong and peaceful. Cast your eye, my brethren, over
this or any other assemblage of ministers, that with
these our ordination solemnities or like occasions may
be gathered together ; and in what they can tell you of
their short and precarious ministries or of the religious
condition and prospects of their flocks, you will perceive
that these are indeed times of change. Instead of set¬
tlements for life, of ministries of twenty, forty, aye, fifty
years, not unknown to the fathers, a little term of one,
three, five years shall be the usual period of service.
Hence, a melancholy proportion of churches in the com¬
monwealth without ministers, and a yet sadder propor¬
tion of ministers without churches. And rare is the
spectacle—though we bless God it is not without example
of the aged minister, ' with his staff in his hand for very
age'* as speaks the prophet, w^ho has survived a genera¬
tion of his flock, and having ministered in the freshness
of his youth to the fathers, and followed them to their
long homes, still survives to minister to the children, and
to declare God's faithfulness to them, that are to come.
* Zech. 8, 4.
7
Now, my brethren, I do not say that an aged or an
advanced ministry is of itself a blessing. This must
obviously depend upon the ability, fidelity and character
of the individual who sustains it. But I do say, that
continual changes are an evil ; and whatever a restless
desire for them may expect, can scarcely fail to be at
the hazard of a permanent and healthful influence.
2. Another feature not to be overlooked in the aspect
of the times, is the love of excitement in the people, with
a solicitude both in ministers and in people to witness
speedy and obvious effects. From the spiritual machi¬
nery — if the expression may be allowed—which they
have set in motion, they are impatient to see the results.
Progress is the order of the day, the watch-word of the
times. It comes naturally with the youth and freshness
of our institutions. And while all things else are advan¬
cing, so that scarcely a year can pass without exhibiting
some visible improvement in population, in manufacto¬
ries, in science and art, and whatever conduces to the ex¬
ternal prosperity of a people, the people look for some
corresponding progress in the church ; not wholly, it
must be feared from the highest regard for the things
spiritual, but from that mingling of the things spiritual
with the temporal, that is found not incompatible with
an intense worldliness of mind.
This passion for immediate effect has been exhibited
by our brethren of another faith in the multiplication of
religious services^ in the revival and protracted meetings.
8
those anomalous devices of modern zeal, which among
others I need not detain you to describe, are fast taking
their places with the failing and exploded experiments
of the day. By ourselves the same spirit has been ex¬
hibited in modes more accordant, we may imagine,
with the sobriety of our faith, yet indicative of the same
eagerness to witness some early fruits of our labors.
And so far as this passion awakens an humble and pious
zeal, breathes life into our preaching, makes us more faith¬
ful to duty, more devoted to the flock, and watchful over
ourselves, who can doubt that it is to be cherished as be¬
longing to the spirit of our office, without which he that
liveth is dead while he yet liveth ?
But if with this love of excitement in the people, and
impatience to see the fruits of their labors in the minister,
there be engendered discontent with the healthful course
of divine Providence; if, because great things are not
quickly seen, the people grow weary of their minister,
despising his day of small things ; or if on his part, from
anxiety to meet this expectation,- or from a sincere love
of the flock, he should be tempted to indiscreet exertion ;
to the undue multiplication of his labors, exhausting his
own strength and tempting his people away from domes¬
tic and social duties, in the patient discharge of which the
power of their religion is to be proved ; and all the while,
because he sees it not, will not believe, that he is doing
any good, possibly in the fervor of his zeal destroying
his power to do good, oppressing his heart with needless
cares, turning a service to bondage, which God meant
9
for liberty and peace and hope ; and closing a ministry,
which had it been but prudently might have been long
pursued to the blessing of the church, to the lengthened
days and calm satisfaction of the minister — if such, 1
say, be the effect, then is this spirit, by whatever good
name men may call it better than it merits, or under
whatever show of zeal or love of souls they may disguise
it, to be deprecated, because it is mischievous, and be¬
cause the indulgence of it is a criminal violation of
the laws of our physical and moral natures, and
to be condemned as a part of the intemperance of these
times. ' Do thyself no harm,' was the command of the
considerate apostle to one, who in an agony of fear would
have destroyed himself. And we must not forget, my
brethren, that there are other weapons of self-destruction
than the sword ; and that to make full proof of our
ministry, God hath given us not a spirit of fear, nor yet
of extravagant or delusive hope, but of a sound mind.
There is only one other feature, to which I can ad¬
vert as characteristic of these days, and this is seen in a
disposition sometimes amounting to a passion, of bringing
within the church, in our relation and influence as min¬
isters, certain vexed and complicate questions, either of
christian philosophy or philanthrophy, in some of which,
as in the question of the abolition of slavery, it is impos¬
sible to pronounce where the province of the politician
begins, or that of the philanthropist should end ; — while
2
10
concerning ' other some,' this perhaps it may he permit¬
ted us in passing to remark, that they leave us at some
loss which most to admire, the ingenuity with which
they are propounded, the affectionate earnestness of their
disciples, or their utter inutility.
Upon questions however, of this class to which the
attention of the religious community has been of late ex¬
cited, Í would speak with the diffidence which a just
respect for the impressions of others would prescribe,
but with the simplicity also which my own convictions
justify. And regarding as I must, if not the discussion,
yet certainly the enforcing of such topics as among
the dangers rather than the duties of the times, I shall
only remark, that if in our earnestness for the mainte¬
nance of any favorite speculations of our own, our time,
which is the flock's, or our hearts, which should be theirs
also, should be so engrossed, or the place which we
permit to such speculations so prominent as to put to
hazard our general ministerial usefulness, then are we
in danger of sacrificing the greater in the pursuit of the
less ; and of exposing a cause, which has been commit¬
ted to us — nay, which by our ordination vows and all the
obligations of the ministry we are bound to promote, the
cause of truth and of man's salvation, for a cause that
has not been committed to us ; which, even if it can be
counted a part, is but a part of our ministry, and has this
for its peculiar danger, that in proportion to our zeal for
this single part, we expose to hazard our usefulness and
success in the whole.
11
II. What now, we may enquire, are the duties of
the ministry amidst these aspects of the times ? How
shall we best prove, that ours is not a spirit of fear, but
of courage, and of love, and of a sound mind.
The most important of our duties are those unques¬
tionably, which belong to the very nature of our minis¬
try, which the master has ordained for all ages of
the church, and without which the ministry itself would
fail. There are other duties growing out of the circum¬
stances in which the individual may be placed, consti¬
tuting what is peculiar to his condition, and demanding
for their fulfilment his special prudence and fidelity. —
But he that would best meet the demands of the times,
will address himself with the greatest earnestness to
those duties, which belong to all times, the sacredness
and obligation of which no changes can impair.
To preach the unchangeable word ; to offer up with
a pure heart the prayers of the people ; to maintain in
their simplicity and sanctity the ordinances of our faith;
to be instant in season and out of season as opportunity
and God's providence shall invite ; to watch for souls,
knowing that God has a desire to this work of his hands,
and that we must render an account of ours ; to raise
up them that fall, to comfort such as do mourn, and bind
up the broken hearted ; so to warn the wicked as not
to ' strengthen his hands by promising him life,' and so to
comfort the feeble-minded as not ' to make sad the heart
that God would not make sad ;' in fine to teach the
transgressor his way, by showing the powers oí the
12
world to come, and yet the exceeding riches of God's
grace in Christ Jesus — these, brethren, are at all times
the duties of our office, from which while life and health
remain, no emergency can discharge us. And he, that
gives himself to these, maintaining the quiet tenor of bis
way, not driven hither and thither with every wind of
doctrine, not wasting his zeal in schemes of doubtful
expediency, not entangling himself with the passing in¬
terests of this life, nor vainly hoping for a perfection
attainable only in the life to come — such an one will
best meet the calls of every emergency, and approve
himself to God as a good minister of Christ, nourished
up in sound faith and doctrine.
If, my brethren, in the fulfilment of these great duties,
we find discouragement and mortification and even re¬
proach, still, let us in patience possess our souls, and re¬
member, that it is not amidst triumph and applause, that
make all things easy, nor yet in high places or admiring
assemblies, but in the day of small things, amidst weak¬
ness and fear and obscurity, in the patience rather than
the joy of hope, that our faith is to be proved. ' If thou
faint in the day of adversity, thy strength is small.'
There is little danger of our growing weary in well-do¬
ing, as long as success crown our efibrts, and the people
cheer us with their applause. But to work on, though
we see no fruit on the vine, nay, though the fig-tree
does not even blossom ; to faint not, trusting that in due
season we shall reap— this, my brethren, is well-pleasing
to God. The husbandman waiteth for the precious fruit
13
of the earth and hath long patience for it ; and if we
would approve ourselves as the ministers of Christ
Jesus, it must be even as did the prophets and apostles
of old, in much patience, sometimes in afflictions and
necessities, and always by pureness, by long suffering,
by kindness, by the Holy Ghost; not in fear but in courage,
and love, and a sound mind.
But besides a general fidelity, there are other duties
growing out of emergencies, and taking, if not the sub¬
stance yet the form, from the aspect of the times. If,
for example, there be a tendency in our civil or religious
institutions to change, and to such changes as we cannot
count improvements, let us ministers and people take
heed, lest by any errors of ours we aggravate this ten¬
dency. Do the people esteem less than they once did
a permanent ministry, and is there danger that the an¬
cient reverence for ordinances be impaired ? Then it is
for us, fathers and brethren, to give more diligent heed,
that by no negligence, worldliness, restlessness or ill-
temper, that would fain pass itself for zeal, we make
ineffectual the gift of God that is in us. Specially, let
us not by any fond theories or subtle speculations in
which we may choose to indulge, withdraw the atten¬
tion of our hearers from the plain and practical in
our religion, or encourage the vain notion, that there
is something beyond, and something better than the
simple doctrine which Jesus taught, or the simple
ordinances which he has prescribed ; something forsooth.
14
more spiritual and glorious, hidden in the mind of Christ,
and now given to us to reveal.
We may do much to check the tendencies to perni¬
cious change, by repressing within ourselves a restless
desire for change ; by cherishing contentment with the
place in which God has set us, with moderate expecta¬
tion as to the visible effect of our labors ; by that faith¬
ful devotion of ourselves to the peculiar duties of our
calling, which the apostle implied in the significant ex¬
pression of being ' separated to the gospel,' and which
he enjoins upon his friend Timothy, when he charges
him, ' give thyself wholly to these things, that thy pro¬
fiting may.appear;' and, by that assiduous care of the
flock, on which their affection to the pastor, and the
good influences of his ministry essentially depend. Let
us cherish also as far as may be a generous confidence
in our people ; trusting that we are doing them good as
long as we are conscious of sincere endeavors to do so;
and that they will rightly interpret what by us is rightly
intended. This again will naturally connect itself with
an honest independence, by which we shall ' be among
them without fear,' speaking the truth in all boldness
while we speak it in love ; as of sincerity, not as pleas¬
ing men but God, who trieth the hearts. Poor and in¬
effectual must be the ministry, that is controlled by fear;
that instead of guiding, suffers itself to be led, and led too
by the bad maxims and habits of the people : that in¬
stead of teaching what is pure and excellent, is timidly
seeking for the expedient and acceptable. ' The proph-
lo
ets prophesy falsely, and my people love to have it so.
And what will ye do saith the Lord, in the end thereof.
Let them come to thee, but go not thou to them.'
We have noticed as among the temptations of these
times a desire for immediate effect. With this is frequent¬
ly united an eagerness to multiply the occasional services
of religion. Hence various devices and temporary expe¬
dients have been adopted, in which we do not deny that
there may be wisdom, or that they may sometimes be
demanded by the necessity of circumstances, and be
honestly encouraged by a prudent zeal. Of their per¬
manent utility, however, we may reasonably doubt.
And of this we are sure, that they are not to be
thought of in comparison, and never to be allowed as sub-
stitutesfor the Sabbath and ordinances of God, those bles¬
sed means which his wisdom has prescribed and his grace
provided for the light and salvation of the world ; and
which by the sanctity of their origin, their intrinsic
value, their paramount authority, are destined to remain
untouched and holy amidst the changes and inventions
of man. If from a love of novelty, from imitation in
self-defence or policy of the measures set in motion by
surrounding sects, or from mere feverish excitement, the
people learn to prefer the temporary to the established,
the conference or the evening lecture to the regular
worship of the Sabbath, its morning and its evening
sacrifice, and spiritual abstractions to the simple ordin¬
ances of the gospel, eating bread and drinking wine, as
the master commanded in remembrance of him — then,
16
my brethren, Avhatever show of wisdom or spirituality
there may be in them, we shall have no reason to con¬
gratulate ourselves on our readiness to promote them.
A false and distempered appetite will be engendered by
them ; and whatever may be pleaded for them as grati¬
fying a religious taste, as strengthening a languid spirit,
and ' good for a present distress,' let us never forget that
they are of the inventions of men and not the ordinan¬
ces of God. Let us not fail in our preaching and the
whole conduct of our ministry to show the everlasting
distinction between them. The Sabbath in its stated
worship; the ministry as ordained of Christ Jesus; his
gospel as the truth of God and able to make wise unto
salvation. Baptism and the Lord's supper, — these are
the things, which the Father hath given, and the spirit
of the Father hath blessed in every age, to the enlight¬
ening of men's minds, to the reforming of men's lives,
and to the setting up in their hearts of the kingdom of
the Son.
Nor need it be questioned, that these regular minis¬
trations of religion are fully adequate to meet the real
wants of the Christian community. He who ordained
them knew what was in man, and with a higher wisdom
than ours, has provided for his spiritual needs. Surely
it ill becomes us to distrust either the wisdom or the
adequacy of the supply : yet this we virtually do, when
we are incessantly adding to what is already prescribed.
Let us carefully cherish in ourselves and labor to promote
a spirit of reverence for the institutions of religion as
17
they are recognized and hallowed in the word of God.
It is through this sentiment of reverence, so much need¬
ed in these days of restless zeal and innovation, that we
shall best secure the ends of the christian ministry, and
establish most firmly the influence of religion in the
heart. And while, as taught of God, we show that this
religion is not of the letter but of the spirit, ' whose
circumcision is of the heart,' we shall ever maintain re¬
spect for the positive institutions of Christ. We shall
take heed, lest by any mistaken theories or spiritual re¬
finements of our own, we do ought to impair this rever¬
ence ; or indispose the people, already slow, to comply
with them. The ' sound mind,' which discerns holiness
as the end, will honor ordinances as the means. It will
convince us, that by the very laws of our nature they
cannot be separated ; and that what God has united, it
is not for man, though he had all mysteries and could
understand all knowledge, to put asunder.
There are benefits scarcely to be estimated from the
regular ministrations and faithful attendance on the
stated ordinances of religion. Like the daily gifts of
God's bounty, the sun that shines or the bread that
nourishes, we do not perhaps from the constancy and
familiarity with which they are possessed, appreciate
them as we ought. But it is grateful to consider of
what good they are the instruments, and of what evils
the prevention, of which the world takes no account, and
which can be known only to Him, to whom all hearts
are open, and from whom no secrets are hid.
18
But passing this topic, fruitful as it is, let me remark,
that it is worthy of our consideration, how wide and
beneficial an influence may he exerted by a faithful
pastor from even the humblest and obscurest of the
villages of New-England. While he seems to be only
tending his own little flock, leading them like the good
shepherd by the side of the still waters, he is perhaps
exerting a power that shall reach to the remotest corners
of the land. The seed he is thus planting in his own
peaceful vineyard shall spring up and become a tree that
shall be for the healing of the nation. For when the
young men of his flock shall go forth — God grant it
may be in a spirit of moderation, and not in a mad
hastening to be rich — when they shall go forth from
the place of their nativity and spread themselves
over the west and the south, they shall bear with them
the blessed fruits of a faithful ministry ; and in looking
back, as nature fondly will, to the scenes of their early
days, they will not forget the guide of their youth ; the
day when his doctrine dropped as the rain, and he spoke
sweetly unto them of God and goodness, and persuaded
them in Christ's stead to be reconciled to God. They
will teach others what they have been taught of him,—
the same simple doctrine and the same holy life, — and
thus the speech of their retired pastor shall distill upon
distant lands, and the silent influence of his character
and the prevalence of his prayers shall bless regions
which his eyes shall never see, nor his feet ever tread.
Let the thought be improved, my brethren, to our
19
devout and cheerful meditation ; to our satisfaction
and hope in the discharge of our humblest duties, and
in the most retired scenes of labor. It opens a reviving
prospect to every minister of New-England. It says to
him, whom God's providence has set in the obscurest
corner of his vineyard, and who in his dark hours may
be ready to despond, when he contrasts what he may
imagine of his own ability to do good with the narrow¬
ness of his sphere. ' Be of good cheer.' It says of the
fruits of his ministry, what God promised of old concern¬
ing his people, ' I will multiply them, and they shall not
be few. I will glorify them and they shall not be small.
And though thy dwelling be with the least of the thou¬
sands of Judah, yet out of it,' enlightened by thy doc¬
trine and quickened by thy life shall go forth those, who
shall be rulers and guides to our Israel.
And when that ministry is sustained in the spirit,
which the apostle declares God giveth to his children, a
spirit not of fear, but of power and of love, its influence
cannot but be blessed. It will be like the dew that
descendeth from the mountains of Zion, where the Lord
commandeth his blessing. And in what other spirit, my
christian fathers and brethren, can we hope that our
ministry shall be sustained ? Surely the doctrine we
teach ; the relations we bear, the objects we pursue
alike prescribe it. The doctrine we teach — a perfect
God, all mighty and all wise ; a merciful Father, pitying
his children, ' waiting to be gracious; ' a Saviour, sent
20
of the Father to seek and to save, himself made higher
than the heavens, holy and undefiled, but who, being
tempted as we are, can have compassion on the
ignorant and them who are out of the way ; a moral
government, whose laws are righteousness and truth ;
an impartial retribution to the righteous and the wicked
at the judgment of the great day ; and finally, the
blessed hope of an immortal life, to which God hath
begotten us by the resurrection of his son Jesus Christ
— doctrine, like this, I say, may well lift us above all
fear but the fear of sin, and inspire an holy courage,
while we warn every man and teach every man, that
we may present every man perfect in Christ Jesus.
When to this, also, we add the relations that unite
us, of frail but spiritual natures, as partakers of infirmi¬
ty, as destined to death, yet heirs of immortality ; that
to us there is one God, even the Father, and one Lord,
even Christ Jesus, and that we all are brethren, how
can we act as becometh such intimate relations but in
the spirit of love ? How can we be but aifectionate
one toward another, in all kindness and charity, forbear¬
ing one another and forgiving one another, even as God
in Christ Jesus hath forgiven us ?
Or, lastly, when we consider the objects we propose
— no other than the enlightening of the understanding
with celestial truth ; the subjection of the will of man
to the whole will of God, — do we not see how much
we need the teachings even of an heavenly-descended
instructor ; soundness of mind, that shall save us from
21
being deceived ; soundness of speech, that may not be
condemned ; discretion, that shall preserve from zeal
without knowledge, not disdaining regard to persons,
place and circumstance ; or, to embrace all in the beau¬
tiful description of St. James, the ' wisdom,that cometh
from above, first pure, then peaceable, gentle, and easy
to be entreated, full of mercy and of good fruits, with¬
out partiality and without hypocrisy. This, my hearers,
this is the sound mind, that dwells with the good and
honest heart ; and here is the love, that glows in that
good and honest heart, and lifts it above all fear, and
makes it a spirit of power, which no earthly power
shall be able to resist.
May this be the spirit, in which you, my brother, shall
commence, and be strengthened to pursue the ministry,
that with this day you are receiving of the Lord. I may
say for your encouragement, that it is a spirit, which
God freely giveth to them that ask it. I must not en¬
croach on the province assigned to others in the addres¬
ses of these our ordination solemnities. But it will be
permitted to the relation, by which we are united, just
to offer you my congratulations on the fair field which
God's providence has here opened to your labors, and
to give a moment's utterance to my affectionate remem-
bránce of a valued friend and classftiate, whose name, I
am persuaded, is cherished in this place, and will be
henceforth united with yours as the name of your
predecessor. I may say, and I doubt not, my brethren,
22
you can bear your testimony to its truth, that the spirit
described in my text was in an eminent degree charac¬
teristic of your late respected pastor. It was my priv¬
ilege to have witnessed it in some of its earlier devel¬
opments, when amidst trials of his faith and trials of his
lot, which happily a maturer examination of the christian
doctrine and his removal to this more propitious scene
of labor diminished, he had peculiar need of a christian
courage, and of a sound and discerning mind. With
what integrity and steadiness of purpose he did search
for the truth, and when, as he believed, he had found,
with what cordiality and utter fearlessness of conse¬
quences he did embrace, with what courage coupled with
meekness, the meekness of wisdom, he did maintain
it; and with how much kindness and charity he
commended himself, if not his creed, to his brethren of a
more exclusive faith — there is not wanting other testi¬
mony than mine to declare. You also, brethren of this
flock, who were partakers of the fruits of his riper
studies, have witnessed with what singleness and fidelity,
with what noiseless zeal, with what humility yet cheer¬
ful trust in God, in the serenity also of an approving
conscience, he did go in and out before you. Did the
occasion or your time permit, I would speak also of
those more private or domestic virtues, with which, not
certainly in fulness, but in straits ; not in bodily strength,
but even as with Paul in much infirmity, he did still
by his cheerful contentment and effectual industry,
provide for his own, and while he walked daily with
23
God did show forth his integrity and uprightness with
men. Nor need I tell you, christian brethren, because
it is treasured in your memories — may God write it
upon your hearts — how with his dying lips he did bear
witness to the truths which he had adorned by his life,
and found in them, when the summons came, all his
salvation and all his hope.
I may not hope a richer blessing for you, my brethren,
or for your young pastor, than that you may be partakers
of the same spirit. This is the spirit of Christ Jesus, the
spirit of power and of love. May it be poured upon us
in copious measures from on high. May it bless pastors
and people and the whole church of God. For this
will we pray, that our love may abound more and more
in knowledge and in all judgment, that we may be sin¬
cere and without offence till the day of Christ, being
filled with the fruits of righteousness, which are by
Jesus Christ to the glory and praise of God.
APPENDIX.
The Rev. Winthrop Bailey, to whom reference is made at
the close of the preceding discourse was the immediate prede¬
cessor of Rev. Mr. Parkman, at Greenfield, and it was under
his ministry that the ' Third Congregational Church' of that place
was organized. His abilities, attainments and singular purity of
character justly entitle him to a remembrance with the excellent of
the earth : and it is with satisfaction mingled with regret for his
early removal from among us, that at the desire of some of his
former Parishioners, we add these few notices of one, whom they
highly esteemed.
Mr. Bailey was a native of Berlin, Massachusetts, and was
graduated at Harvard university in 1807. His rank was with
the best scholars of his class ; and with a faithful and exemplary
attention to all the appropriate studies of the college, he devoted
much of his leisure while an undergraduate to the study of the¬
ology. Before he left the university, he was well read in the
works of Edwards, Hopkins, West, and the other metaphysical
divines of that class in New-England, whose system of doctrine
he early and cordially embraced. His immediate preparation
for the ministry was made chiefly at Andover, which he entered
at the opening of that institution. He was afterwards engaged
26
as a tutor in Bovvdoin College. For the office of instruction of
youth he was specially fitted by his own habits of clear and ac¬
curate thinking, and by tbe fairness, gentleness, and patience with
which, whatever may have been his own speculations, he invari¬
ably regarded the opinions or impressions of others. This qual¬
ity, so rare and difficult of attainment, yet so attractive, they who
best knew him will readily recognize as a distinguishing trait of
his character.
While thus connected with the college in Brunswick he was
chosen as the pastor of the Congregational Church in that place.
With them he ministered faithfully for a few years. But about
this period his religious speculations underwent some change,
that may have rendered his ministrations less acceptable tlian
they had been to a Trinitarian and Calvinistic society. And as
Mr. Bailey was incapable of evasion upon any subject,—his
prudence and Catholicism being united with absolute honesty,—
he resigned his charge at Brunswick, and removed in 1815 to
Pelham, a small settlement in the western part of Massachusetts.
Here, neither the obscurity of his situation, nor the scantiness of
his resources, nor yet his cares for a young and numerous family,
to whom he was tenderly devoted, were permitted to interfere
with the conscientious fulfilment of his ministry. At Pelham he
studied much, wrote many sermons, preached constantly, and
all the while cultivating his farm, he might have said with Paul,
in the most literal meaning of the words, ' these hands have
ministered to my necessities and to them that are with me.' We
have been his guest in that humble abode, more humble certainly
than usually falls to the lot of a New-England clergyman. We
have partaken of his fraternal hospitality ; and no one, we are
certain, who saw him there, but must have been touched and
instructed too by his cheerful contentedness, by the imperturba¬
ble serenity of his spirit, and his conversation, always edifying,
27
in which a sound judgment and a calm decision was ever united
with humility.
After a ministry at Pelham of about ten years, he was
invited to become the pastor of the ' Third Congregational
Church in Greenfield.' Here he was installed Oct. 16, 1825 :*
and in this beautiful village, or its immediate vicinity of Deerfield,
amidst a people intelligent and kind, who appreciated his talents
and honored his character, with whom too were many of other
denominations than his own, he passed the remainder of his days.
He died in the month of March, 1835, in the fifty-first year of
his age, having for nearly a quarter of a century been engaged
in the christian ministry.
Though the preceding imperfect notices of Mr. Bailey may
be thought sufficient for an appendix to a discourse designed for
another occasion, we have also been requested to annex the
following extracts from an obituary, which appeared in the
Christian Register of April 4, 1835, immediately after his
decease.
There was much in Mr. Bailey's temper and life to distin¬
guish him from the multitude even of good men, and to entitle
him to our respect and imitation. He was characterized by
great fairness and singleness of mind, possessing to an eminent
degree that rare virtue, christian candor, by content and unvary¬
ing cheerfulness of heart amidst the various trials of his lot, and
by quiet and unpretending but undeviating regard to duty. At an
early period, while yet a student at Cambridge, he was led to
adopt some views of religion, little in accordance with the more
* The services of this occasion, which were printed, were as follows: the
Sermon by Rev. Dr. Thayer of Lancaster, from 1 Peter, 3. 15. ' Re ready
always to give a reason for the faith that is in you.' The Charge by Rev. Dr.
Willard of Deerfield ; the Right Hand of Fellowship by the writer of these
notices, and the address to tlie people by the Rev. Mr. Rogers of Bcrnardston.
28
liberal opinions he afterwards embraced. But whatever were
his speculations, and they took their sombre complexion from the
metaphysical school of Edwards and of the old Hopkinsian divines,
they never prevailed over the cheerfulness or the candor of his
spirit. He still looked upon christians of every name as his
brethren ; and met their objections with gentleness even when
they needed all his subtility to refute them. We count it no
common evidence of the excellence of his spirit when we say,
that in an intercourse of no ordinary familiarity, and in the freest
interchange of opinions upon topics inviting censure, have we
ever heard from his lips a harsh or uncharitable expression.
The same candor of mind and hearty love of truth led hira
to examine anew the grounds of his belief. The excellent
work of Dr. Worcester on the question of the Trinity essentially
contributed to a change in his opinions ; and for now almost
twenty years he has been an avowed and decided Unitarian.—
His faith in the paternal government of God, so beautifully ex¬
hibited by the uncorrupt gospel of Christ, conspiring with his
own happy temperament, was an unfailing source to him of cheer¬
ful trust. The narrow circumstances of his lot, exacting his
continual industry, though with a frame ill suited to sustain it,
never took from him the serenity of his spirit. He cast his care
upon God, bearing, without complaining of his straits ; and
having too much generosity^ and modest self-respect to obtrude
either his personal or domestic cares upon the sympathy of his
friends.
In his outward appearance, affected as it was by a serious
infirmity, Mr. Bailey presented to the eye of the stranger little
indication of the intellectual and spiritual man within. There
was much plainness amidst unaffected tokens of goodness ; and
a single glance might have shown how impossible to him must
have been every form of pretence. But the kindness of his
29
heart and ready discernment supplied the place of all artificial
rules. He had that delicacy of mind and benevolence, which
constitute true politeness. He observed, as every wise man does,
the forms of society ; and he would have been a welcome and
honored guest in the circles of the most refined, because he had
too much kindness to make his sincerity rude, and too much
good sense to suffer any of his just influence to be lost even
with men of the world by incurring the reproach of negligence
or ill-manners.
As a preacher, though he was not of them who by their
eloquence delight, he never failed to instruct his hearers. In the
pulpit he commended himself to their judgment ; and he was
daily preaching to them by the silent eloquence of his example.
Even those of other names, who differed most from him in
speculation, bore willing testimony to his sound understanding
and his blameless life. Nor could it well be otherwise. For he
was among the pure in heart, who see God in every thing, walk¬
ing in the light of his countenance, and in all good conscience
before' men.
His last illness, which though short, was exceedingly painful,
he bore with his accustomed composure. As long as reason re¬
mained, it exhibited a beautiful consistency with the whole
spirit of his life. Nor even afterwards, when his mind be¬
came clouded by disease, did he utter a word which his
friends could be pained to hear. He sent, we are informed, for
the minister of Deerfield, Rev. Mr. Fessenden, and expressed
to him his entire satisfaction in the religious sentiments he had
professed. ' It has been repeatedly declared,' said he, ' that
Unitarianism is not a religion to die by. But for myself, I per¬
ceive I am dying, and I find in it all that I can desire or hope
for. I request you,' added he, ' to remember what I say ; and
30
if opportunity or necessity should call for it, I wish you to testify
from me, that I die satisfied and happy in the hopes my relig¬
ion affords me.'
Is not a death like this beautiful in its season ? Hath not God
appointed in kindness its period and its circumstances. Yes truly.
For untimely as it may seem to the eye of flesh, and much as
it will be mourned by those who were the spectators and the
sufferers, still is it beautiful alike in its instructions and hopes ;
beautiful in its testimony, for it bears witness to the truth ; beauti¬
ful in its consolations, for they are the ' consolations of God,'
and beautiful in its hopes, for they are full of immortality.
F. P.
ONlTàRlANISM «OT A HEOATIVE STSTEM.
A
DISCOURSE
DEirVERED AT THE DEDICATION OF THE MEETING HOÜSE ERECTED BT THE
INDEPENDENT CONGREGATIONAL SOCIETY
IN IPSWICH,
OCTOBER 23, 183 3.
BY EZRA S. GANNETT.
FCBLISHED BT R£(lirEST OF THE SOCIETT.
BOSTON:
LEONARD C. BOWLES.
1833.
Miiwt Pr»tt, Printer—Se2 Washinston street
DISCOURSE.
1 PETER IV. H.
Ö>r THEIR PART HE IS EVIL SPOKEH OT, BUT OW VOUR PART HE IS .
GLORIFIED.
The dedication of another house of worship in a village con¬
taining a population of less than three thousand, in which be¬
fore the commencement of the present edifice three commod¬
ious meeting houses attracted the eye of the stranger and invited
the attendance of the inhabitants within their walls, may prompt
an inquiry into the circumstances which have led to this event.
To pursue the inquiry would be an ungrateful task to me, and
could afford neither information nor pleasure to those whom I
address. The origin of this structure is well known. It has
been built by tJiose who were compelled, unless they would lis¬
ten to the administration of religion under forms which neither
their minds nor their hearts could approve; and neither self-re-
ppect nor a regard for their children could patiently endure, to
lose the benefit of its public offices, or to raise for themselves a
house in which they might worship God the Father as disciples
of him who said, 'My Father is greater than I.' The founders
of the Society for whose use it has been erected have peacea¬
bly withdrawn from congregations, where they were denied the
enjoyment of privileges to which they deemed themselves enti¬
tled on the ground of a common Christianity, and hope to find
on this spot satisfactions from which they were debarred at
the altar before which their fathers had knelt. They have chos¬
en the m'dJle course—the best course, when it can honora¬
bly be taken,— between a tame surrender of their rights and a
4
violent struggle for them. They have acted openly, they have
acted resolutely, they have acted as Protestants, as Christians, as
men who have souls and dare to let them think; and they be¬
lieve that by the undertaking, the close of which we are now
met to celebrate, the interests of religion will be promoted with¬
in this ancient town.
This enterprise then had its origin in a diâêrence of faith.
Such is the fact, over which not the least desire is felt to throw
a veil. The builders of this house are Unitarians, members of
a denomination whose tenets are as grossly misrepresented as
they are vehemently decried. The history of religious opinions
contains few examples of a warfare of more relentless character
than that which has been maintained against this form of faith.
As if fair argument could not be trusted, misstatement, invec¬
tive, broad insinuation against character, personal abuse of
men distinguished by their virtues even more than by their ob¬
noxious theology, passionate appeal to all who might and
harsh censure of all who should give an impartial ear, and at last
solemn remonstrance, as if they who held sucha faith were worthy
only to be treated as the felon whose crime demands confession
—a sort of exorcism of the spirit of error, that would provoke a
smile, if it did not awaken feelings of pity and indignation for
the presumptuous folly by which it is prompted,—these are the
means which have been adopted to prevent the spread of those
views of Christian doctrine to which the worship and instruction
of this house will be conformed. In observing the character
of this warfare as it has been unfolded during the last twenty
years, we are reminded of the words of one whose name may
here, if any where, give authority to his counsels. 'It is great¬
ly to be lamented,'says the authorof 'The Simple Cobler of Agga-
wamm,'ihe first minister of Ipswich, 'it is greatly to be lamented
to observe the wanton fearlessness of this age to greet new
opinions and opinionists.' 'Prudent men, especially young,
should do well not to engage in conference with errorists without
a good calling and great caution. He usually hears best in their
meetings that stops his ears closest; and he doth best of all that
5
declines their company as wi^plyashe may.' 'It is said,'writes this
champion of unchangeableness, 'it is said that men ought to have
liberty of their conscience, and that it is persecution to debar
them of it. I can rather stand amazed than reply to thiç;
it is an astonishment to think that the brains of men should be
parboiled in such impious ignorance.' 'No practical sin is so
sinful as some error in judgment; no man so accursed with in¬
delible infamy and dedolent impenitency as authors of heresie.'
That the spirit which dictated these sentences departed with
their author from Essex County to he buried in old England,
cannot, unhappily, be affirmed by any observer of the times.
The Unitarian 'heresy' has not only been accounted most sinful,
hut its supporters have been pronounced unbelievers in sentiment
and far worse than unbelievers in conduct.
Among the methods used to prejudice the public mind against
this heresy, none is more common than the utterance of some
vague objection, which has a fearful sound, and when once
thrown abroad, no matter on what responsibleness or with what
cause of justification, too often finds those who are ready to
give it currency among the various classes of the indolent,
the bigoted, and the unprincipled;—the indolent who will not
take the trouble to ascertain its soundness, the bigoted who are
willing to believe whatever can be said against a doctrine which
does not enter into their creed, and the unprincipled who rejoice in
scattering calumny and mischief. The want of precision, which
would deprive such a charge of effect upon the candid and
thoughiful, increases its power over minds of a different
character, as the bluntness of some instruments, if it do not pre¬
vent their inflicting a wound, renders them more hurtful weap¬
ons.
One objection of this kind I do not remember to have seen
so fully examined as its effect upon the community seems to me
to require; and I have thought that I should not select a sub¬
ject of discourse foreign from the present occasion in using it
for that purpose. I cannot suppose that it will be new to your
ears, for it has been reiterated in one form or another from
6
north tö south. Its most popular fprm of statement is brief, and
alleges that 'Unitarianism is a negative system,' or with a slight
change of the phrase, that 'it is a system of negations. ' I pro¬
pose to give this charge a patient examination—to ascertain its
probable or possible import, to show its injustice in any sense
which can be allowed it, and to investigate the circumstances in
which it may have had its origin or have found any color of
plausibility. In pursuing this plan,as I shall speak plainly on topics
with which the progress of correct religious sentiment is involv¬
ed, I trust that you will not think my remarks improper or in¬
appropriate. Construing the language of my text according to
a figure of speech common in the New Testament, by which the
name of the Founder is given to his religion, I hope to offer good
reasons why the Christianity which we profess, although on tho
part of others 'evil spoken of,' is on our part 'glorified,' or
held in the highest esteem.
I can discover but three senses that can be given to the ex¬
pression which I have quoted. The negative character of a re¬
ligious system must be seen either in its doctrines, its requisi¬
tions, or its effects.
1. The meaning of the charge may be that our faith embraces
few positive or affirmative propositions. This is doubtless the
sense in which we should take the remark, that it is a system of
negations. It has been said with an attempt at smartness, that
'it consists in not believing.' The ground of this assertion is the
fact, that the Unitarian Christian does not receive certain doc¬
trines of tlie Calvinistic or Orthodox theology. With equal rea¬
son therefore might the Calvinistic faith be said to consist in
not believing, because the disciple of this school rejects the pe¬
culiar dogmas of other still larger divisions of the Christian
Church. The unrighteousness of the insinuation is even appa¬
rent from the terms by which the party under censure is desig¬
nated,—Unitarian Christians. Each of these terms expresses
the belief of a great religious truth, viz. the unity of God, and
the divinity of the teaching of Jesus Christ. We might dismiss this
form of the charge which we are considering without any fartlier
7
reply. Bul ihere may be an advantage is exposing its absurdity
at greater length. A cursory survey of what we do believe,
may show how far the assertion is correct, that our faith is^of a
negative character in respect to its doctrines.
We do then believe in the existence of a God,—a Being of infi¬
nite perfection—a pure Spirit—the Author, Sovereign, and Fa-»
ther of the Universe—the Source of truth and love—the Spring
of peace and joy. We believe in a moral government of the uni¬
verse, by which all intelligent creatures are made subject to
wise and immutable laws. We believe in a righteous provi¬
dence, within which all things are included. We believe in
the moral nature of man; in his freedom of choice, his capacity
of improvement, and his liability to err. We believe in the di¬
vine mission of Jesus Christ; in his miracles, his perfect char¬
acter, his authoritative teaching, his voluntary death, and his
triumphant resurrection. We believe in the necessity of obe¬
dience to the will of God, and of repentance for sin; and in the
inseparable connexion between goodness and happiness on the
one hand, and wickedness and misery on the othw. We be¬
lieve in the immertality and accountableness of man; in spirit¬
ual judgment and future retribution. We believe in the author¬
ity and sufficiency of the Scriptures in respect both to faith and
to practice. We believe in the forgiveness of sins, in the effi¬
cacy of prayer, and in the importance of a change in them who
lead vicious or careless lives. To sum up all in one line, we
believe in God, in Christ, in duty here, and in recompense
hereafter.
Now if this exposition of our belief does not contain enough
which is affirmative or positive in its character, it would
be useless to collect any farther evidence to the same ef¬
fect. We are neither atheists nor infidels. We disbelieve a
great deal that has been believed; and we thank God that we have
escaped the contagion of many errors which have prevailed in
the world. But we also believe a great deal; nothing which is
unintelligible or contradictory to sound reason, but much which
reason alone would not have taught us. What we do believe
8
we find in the Bible. What we find in the Bible as a revelation from
God we believe. In the Scriptural sense we believe every one
of the doctrines which under names borrowed from the Scrip¬
tures have been pressed as the chief articles of a Christian's
faith,—election,regeneration,'atonement;—election—of commu¬
nities to privileges, and of character to happiness, but not of in¬
dividuals to heaven irrespectively of character; regeneration—
by which he who is dead in sin is renewed through the influ¬
ence of truth and is incited to work out his own salvation, but
not a change wrought by a supernatural agency upon a passive
subject; atonement—by which God and man are reconciled, not
by appeasing the wrath of God, but by subduing the impenitence
of man;—these, and whatever other doctrines may under the
same restriction of a Scriptural origin and import be ad¬
ded to these, we believe. Still we prefer those unambiguous
propositions in which I have already described our faith, and
while they constitute its articles I am certainly justified in say¬
ing, that whoever pronounces it a system of negations knows no¬
thing of it, or is willing to sacrifice truth to prejudice.
2. Under the next form which this charge may be made or
be meant to assume, it touches the requisitions of our faith, its
practical demands. It may be said, for it has been said against
presumptive and positive proof to the contrary, that Christianity
as expounded by Unitarians imposes less of labor and duty on
its disciples than the more popular faith. We have been told
by those who assume to know its character better than it is
known by us, that it requires very little of the sinner, that it is
an easy religion, one which offers great inducements to the in¬
dolent and the worldly. Is this true? How do you, Brethren, un¬
derstand the language of that system which you hold dear beyond
all earthly things ? May one be a consistent Unitarian Christian and
yet do little for his own salvation and progress? No, no. This
is a system which requires of its disciple the greatest measure
of goodness that he can render, which prohibits every indul¬
gence contrary to the strictest virtue, and imposes continual
effort and conflict. Who that comprehends its requisitions
9
would ever think oí pronouncing them light? Its friends have
been assailed with the complaint, that it expects too much of hu*
man nature, and leaves too much to mortal exertion. You ex¬
alt the instrumentality of man in his own salvation, some have
said to us; you suppose that he can deliver himself from deprav¬
ity and punishment. Is there not palpable inconsistency in
those who talk in this strain, charging us with holding a system
that winks at the indulgence of human passion, and utters 'smooth
things' to human frailty? Unitarianism, as we receive it, the
patron of a lax morality and a worldly spirit! Verily it requires
a confidence by no means enviable, to make such an assertion
in the face of all that has been said by advocate and by opposer.
Let us however, as before, ascertain the exact truth.
The commandments which we acknowledge to be binding
may be arranged under the titles of love, improvement, and use¬
fulness. The first respects the temper, dispositions and affec¬
tions, the second regards the private life, the third the con¬
nexions which man holds in society.—We are required to love
God with a supreme, pure and constant affection, to love Je¬
sus Christ with a grateful and tender sentiment, to love our
fellow-men with a sincere and generous interest. Devotion, dis¬
interestedness and a sympathy with excellence are therefore
indispensable duties. Let the expression be taken in its full
force. They are not recommended—they are commanded.
We shall have left some part of duty undone so long as we are
negligent in the culture of either of these dispositions. If any
one would perceive how much of inward toil and sacrifice is
here imposed, let him ponder the injunction under which we
delight particularly to express this branch of Christian duty—'Be
ye perfect as your Father in heaven is perfect.' Who should pre¬
sume to call that an easy, lax, or negative system which has this
sentence inscribed on its front?
Improvement represents the next class of duties which every
One must observe; improvement, by which we mean nothing
less than the cultivation of every power which the Creator has given
us, with at the same time so just a regard to the other powers
2
10
that all will be developed in harmony and our nature acquire its
fullest measure of strength. The performance of this work evi¬
dently and of necessity requires the removal of whatever is
wrong or offensive. Repentance must precede improvement;
reformation is the first step in the moral progress of a sinner.
Yet some persons appear to think that hy insisting on improve¬
ment we would exclude repentance. Our theory on this sub¬
ject is very simple. We believe that character always has
more or less of the defective and the erroneous in its constitu¬
tion, and that the first object of the man who would train him¬
self to perfection must he to substitute that which is right
and sound. Then he may encourage his capacities of mor¬
al growth, continuing however to watch the propensities which
would incline him to evil. When it is said of the husbandman
that he has tilled his field,no one supposes that he neglected first to
clear away the forest or the brushwood, and to bring the ground in¬
to a state for cultivation. So the moral harvest is sown and reaped
only where the soil has been redeemed from the desolation or the
rank vegetation to which it had been left. To eradicate what is evil
employs the Christian's industry both before and while he labors to
bring forth fruit unto eternal life. 'Cease to do evil, learn to
do well,'are commands which he never separates from their con¬
nexion with one another. Christian improvement is Christian
virtue in its successive stages, and can be secured only hy self-
denial and self-conquest and vigilant, patient and strenuous ex¬
ertion—the very last qualities which deserve the title of negative.
The last branch of duty under the requisitions of our faith is
usefulness, which includes every office of social virtue. We
must do good as well as be good. We must always desire and
promote the welfare of others, and gladly embrace the opportu¬
nities which continually occur of instructing, relieving, or m
some way benefitting them. Here is a law as broad in its ex¬
tent as it is imperative in its tone. The indolent habit is rebuk¬
ed as sternly as the selfish temper. We maintain that the exampk
of Jesus concurred with his precepts in giving great importance to
this class of services. The language of the Apostles seems to us to
II
be an echo of the voice of their Master. And hence we hold so¬
cial morality in high consideration;—not a cold, technical mo¬
rality which confines itself to certain acts that it would he gross
misconduct to neglect, hut that true-hearted and thorough moral¬
ity which takes as its model the Saviour dying for sinners. In
our choice of the methods hy which we should serve our fel¬
low-men we may difier from other Christians, and our judgment
may he wrong. But our religion, as we understand it, enjoins
fidelity in seeking and using the means of doing good to every
one who may he reached by our efforts or influence.
Such is a sketch of the requisitions of Unitarian Christianity.
They demand the sacrifice of every thing within, and resistance to
every thing without ourselves that is unfriendly to love, improve¬
ment, and usefulness. Life in our view is a course of duty, of
hard and resolute duty. Labor and conflict are the conditions
on which heaven will he opened to our souls. Whatever others
may think, it is to me as clear as the sun, that this system is
distinguished by the severity of its requisitions.
3. The third interpretation which may be given to the charge
under review makes it refer to the effects of the system. The
faith which we profess produces no fruits of goodness, it is an
inoperative faith; say its adversaries. Some of its friends have
felt an embarrassment in meeting this charge, arising from what
they consider the delicacy of their situation. As in repelling it they
might appear to be justifying or praising themselves, they have let
their opinions suffer rather than incur the imputation of vanity. But
there is no occasion for this delicacy. On a question about facts
running through a long course of time, and embracing many com¬
munities, we individually need not be taken into the account.
It is not an inquiry respecting the effect of our opinions on you
and me,so much as on the multitudes who have in different ages
held these opinions. On this question of fact we may therefore
join issue without any sacrifice of humility or any dread of the con¬
sequences. We affirm that Unitarian Christianity has produced
the best fruits—that its efiects have been abundant and excellent.
Go back to its earliest date, and there apply the test. The
12
Apostles were Unitarians ; were not they holy men ? The church¬
es which they founded were composed of Unitarians; did they
not mainly consist of good men? Follow the history of the
Church downward from that period, and you find that error of
doctrine and corrupt practice increased together, till in the pre¬
valence of a false theology practical religion was almost extin¬
guished. During the ages of intellectual and spiritual gloom
which followed we here and there discover a few devoted ser¬
vants of goodness, who also clung to the simple doctrines of the
truth. When the voice of ecclesiastical reformation startled the
churches of Europe, Unitarians were found among those who
longed and labored to rescue Christendom from its bondage.
As in later times greater freedom of examination and of
speech has shown to the world in how many bosoms this
faith is cherished, where shall we look for brighter examples
of the Christian character.' With a variety of difiusion that is
worthy of notice in view of the comparatively small number
of those who have acted independently of the influences that
might have attached them to the popular forms of belief, it has
been seen in every condition of life, and in connexion with ev¬
ery stage of mental progress; as if it was intended by Provi¬
dence, that with a limited number of disciples it should still have
the greatest possible opportunity of proving its efficacy as a moral
and spiritual agent. It has dwelt among the rich, teaching them
moderation, beneficence, humility and devotion. It has visited
the poor, inspiring in them contentment, gratitude and hope. It
has irradiated the minds of the most gifted of the sons of earth,
causing them to bow in adoration before the Father of their spir¬
its and to make his will theirs. It has introduced itself into the
uneducated mind, and strengthened it with a wisdom that is from
above. It has been the friend and counsellor of the happy,
while it has sustained the anxious, and consoled the sorrowful-
In sickness it has tranquillized and cheered, in affliction it has
given composure and resignation. It has guided men through
life's trials, perils and duties, making them to be and to appear
the children of God, and it has enabled the departing soul to
13
meet death in peace. These are facts; which it is neither unjust
nor arrogant to declare. They are facts which time has regis¬
tered on the successive pages of that record which eternity will
open to the view of the universe. That with such facts before
them men, choosing to turn away their eyes or not to acknow¬
ledge what they saw, should call this faith inoperative—barren—
negative—will not surprise us,if we are familiar with the history of
the world, and the illustrations which it contains of the blind¬
ness and recklessness of partisan zeal. But so long as the ef¬
fects of Christianity constitute an argument which the believer
in its divine origin is bound to adduce against the skeptic, so
long will it be the duty of those who adopt our interpretation of
Christ's teaching to disprove its inefficiency by an appeal to
such facts. Our faith has been the instrument of sanctification
and spiritual salvation. We meet the charge with a direct denial
of its truth.
I have endeavored to show, that in neither of the senses in
which, and in which alone, it can be taken, will the charge that
Unitarian Christianity is a negative system bear examination.
Its doctrines, if they be few, cannot be surpassed in solemnity
or interest, while they avoid that ambiguity of expression which
robs truth of its power. Its requisitions include every circum¬
stance of life, every moment of time, every part of character,
allowing no other aim than complete excellence, no motive but
such as God might approve, no course of conduct inconsistent
with the maxim, 'always to abound in the work of the Lord,'
and no model less perfect than the example of Jesus Christ. Its
effects have been great and good—upon individuals, upon
families, upon communities, in the on-goings of time and in
the prospects of eternity. A system of which all this can be
said, and said with literal truth, deserves not the appellation of
'negative.' Let them by whom it has been applied, remember
that brief but weighty precept of the Mosaic Law, 'thou shalt
not raise a false report.'
14
With such evidence of its injustice before them some persons
may be ready to ask how this charge could ever have found credit,
or even have had an origin in the community. The answer to this
question may not unprofitably detain us a few moments longer,
while we consider it relatively to each of those constructions
which we have put upon this 'false report.'
1. I have already adverted to the fact,that a denial of some pop¬
ular doctrines has given plausibility to the remark that our 'belief
consists in unbelief;' and I have intimated that the Catholic may
use this argument against the Protestant, of any denomination,
with as much propriety as an Orthodox Protestant against a
Unitarian Christian. You, may the Catholic say, you deny the
infallibility of the Church, the authority of tradition, the doc¬
trines of transubstantiation and purgatory, the validity of some
of the sacraments, the value of the religious service which we
pay to the saints, and above all,* the everlasting perdition of them
who die out of the pale of the One Catholic Apostolic Church.
You, Protestants, deny all these essential articles of a Christian's
faith. Yours is nothing but a system of negations. How does
the Protestant reply.' By showing that he believes much which
the Catholic takes into his creed,and rejects nothing which the New
Testament makes essential to a Christian's faith. Look now at
this same Protestant turning round upon another who like him has
renounced the supremacy of the Pope, and upbraiding him with
holding a negative system, because he disbelieves the doctrines
of the Trinity, total depravity, vicarious sacrifice, immediate
conversion, and the endless torment of them who die not in the
true faith, and persisting in the reproach though his brother
show him that he believes much which he takes into his own
creed and rejects nothing which the New Testament makes es¬
sential to a Christian's faith! What an example of consistency
does this conduct of the Orthodox Protestant present! A cu¬
rious and instructive volume might be prepared from the writings
of Catholic controversialists against Protestants and the replies
which they have called forth, having for its object to collect the
evidence that almost every reproach which Orthodoxy has
15
brought against Unitarianism has been urged against Protestant¬
ism, and been repelled by the same arguments with which Uni¬
tarianism is defended.
The fact that we consider many of the articles of the popular
belief unscriptural and unsound is not however the only circum¬
stance that has induced the charge which we are examihing. It
has so happened, or rather it has been a necessary consequence
of our situation, that we have been much occupied in proving
the unsound and unscriptural character of these prevalent opin¬
ions. The difference between us and the majority of Christians
consists indeed in our rejection of dogmas which they esteem
sacred, that is, in disbelief on our part. Such dissent we have
been compelled to justify. The great truths of the gospel it has
not been our immediate object to defend; for these truths other
bodies of Christians profess to hold in equal regard with our¬
selves, although, as we contend, they mingle with them tenets
which impair their value and often change their character.
The Trinitarian, for example, believes in the infinite perfection
of God, and the Calvinist in the immortality and accountableness
of man. It is not therefore to establish these points that we
have labored, but taking them for granted, we have endeavored
to show that the infinite perfection of the Deity is inconsist¬
ent with a tri-personal existence, and that accountableness can
not be predicated of a being who by nature wholly corrupt could
be made capable of holiness only by an irresistible action of the
Divine Spirit, and still farther that the doctrines of the Trinity
and of total depravity and supernatural conversion have no sup¬
port in Scripture. Now I confess that if one should judge from
some writings of Unitarians, regardless of the circumstances un¬
der which they have been placed, he might suppose that the
overthrow of a false theology was the object which they had
most at heart; for persons situated as they have been could act
on the defensive only by taking the position of assailants. We
have had enough—too much perhaps, of this sort of warfare.
I rejoice that a different kind of writing is becoming more com¬
mon among us. I would not have Unitarian Christianity always
16
wear a belligerent aspect. It is not natural to it. Our dis¬
sent from Orihodoxy has been fully vindicated. What has
been done vvill remain. Let the materials that have been col¬
lected be used. But let us cease to give our principal attention
to the errors that prevail around us. Let our writings show by
the diligence with which they unfold the great truths of Christi¬
anity and the earnestness with which they press them on the
conscience and the heart, that we desire yet more to make men
feel the power of the truths which we believe than to disabuse
their minds of the opinions which we condemn.
2. It may not seem so easy to account for the impression which
has gone abroad that our faith is lax in its requisitions—that it is
latitudinarian in its character. Yet I think that two circumstan¬
ces will suggest the probable explanation of this fact. In the
first place, it should he considered that no charge can he level¬
led at a religious system with so fatal aim as this,—that it incul¬
cates a loose morality. A certain class of people indeed may
like it the better for hearing this character, hut they are not
found among the intelligent or the serious. Those who enter¬
tain a respect for religion, in whatever form this respect be man¬
ifested, whether in practical piety or in mere support of institu¬
tions, are shocked at the thought of a religious system that does
not frown upon every approach to immorality; while the enlighten¬
ed and thoughtful, whether believers in the Christian religion or
not, perceive the absurdity of holding out the New Testament
in one hand and a loose code of morals in the other. The
truth is, the hulk of mankind approve a strict system of religion.
They will invent numberless devices to escape from its requisi¬
tions, hut the propriety of its requiring them 'to fulfil all right¬
eousness' they are as ready to allow and as eager in defending
as the most rigid moralist. Hence no cry can he started respect¬
ing any form of religious belief so sure to awaken prejudice
against it as the cry of 'latitudinarianism'. This is especially true
in New England, where the associations of the people are in fa-
for of a strict, and even a stern morality. If men desire to ren¬
der a system obnoxious, and are not very scrupulous about the
17
means, and therefore not particularly careful to avoid giving ut¬
terance to a false surmise, let them brand it with the appellatitn
of 'loose' or 'worldly,' and they take the shortest method
to effect their purpose. Now this has been precisely the case
in respect to Unitarianism. Since it must be prevented from
gaining favor, some of its opposers, ignorantly, we may hope,
but not unadvisedly, set this report in circulation, and having
committed themselves chose for 'conscience' sake' (i. e. for the
sake of keeping their consciences quiet—a sense in which the
phrase must often be understood) to remain in ignorance. But
meanwhile what have they done.' Raised a false report, which
being once started by respectable names has spread in a thousand
directions and been propagated 'on authority' by countless
voices. Who can wonder that our faith labors under unjust re¬
proach.'
To another circumstance I attach still more value in this con¬
nexion. We do not concur with some of our fellow Christians
in condemning certain practices which they hold in abhorrence.
We do not pronounce all amusement and festivity wicked, nor
account the man a reprobate who uses his senses as avenues of
enjoyment. We hold excess and abuse to be sinful, but we do
not find in the teaching or example of our Master authority for
an ascetic rigor or an indiscriminate censure of the ways of the
world. Again, we do not adopt certain rules of outward life on
which other Christians insist. Nor do we approve of all the
measures which they use to make themselves and others better.
We hesitate not to question the propriety of some of these meas¬
ures; yea more, to expose what we think their true character
and depict their legitimate effects. But what follows from all
this difference between us and others.' That our system pre¬
sents a lower standard of duty than theirs, or even tiiat we are
not as good men and as good Christians as they.' No. The
gospel does not warrant us in drawing either of these conclusions
from the facts before us. 'He that doeth righteousness is
righteous;' not he who attends most meetings, nor he who has most
of the show and circumstance of religion. Let these exterior
3
18
habits constitute the test, and I say again that the Catholic has
vastly the advantage over the Protestant. Where in all Ameri¬
ca will you find a man that will rival the Franciscan monk of the
15th century in abstinence from worldly pleasures, or the Jesuit
missionaries of the 17th in efibrts for the salvation of sinners, or
the Catholic of the present day in the multiplication of religious
services.' Nay, the Mahommedan fanatic will surpass the Cath¬
olic, and the miserable victim of superstition in India outdo
them all. I would not speak on this subject in other tones than
those of sobriety and charity; but I must speak with feeling.
For I cannot hear men whom I esteem among the purest and
best on earth called worldly men, and the system which I think
is taught in the New Testament decried for showing indulgence
to human frailty, because its advocates are content with 'doing
justly, loving mercy and walking humbly with their God' and
leave extravagance of every sort to those who prefer extrava¬
gance to 'patient continuance in well-doing,' and not to be mov¬
ed to some warmth of displeasure. So far as Unitarian Chris¬
tianity deserves the reproach of not binding its disciples to ob¬
serve rules of conduct which the Christian Scriptures nowhere
recommend, let it bear that reproach. Its great Teacher was
censured for eating with publicans and sinners. But when men
proceed a step further and pronounce it a lax or worldly sys¬
tem, let us speak in its behalf as we would speak in behalf of a
friend-whose character was traduced by slander.
3. If,in the last place,we consider the charge that ours is a neg¬
ative faith to be founded on an observation of its efiects, it will
not be difficult to explain the origin of such a remark. What
has just been said must again be brought into view; for the evi¬
dence that Unitarianism does not impose a strict discipline upon
its professors is drawn from their conduct. Our guide in duty
is the same as that of other Christians—the New Testament. If
our standard is defective, so is theirs. The two last forms of
this charge therefore, although containing distinct allegations,
must be substantiated by the same proofs. One reason then for
declaring that our faith does not produce the fruits of true reli-
19
gion may appear in the difference of opinion between us and
others respecting the nature of these fruits. They value certain
things as marks of the Christian character which we do not so
esteem; and all proof of the inefficiency of our faith which rests
on an estimate of these things we of course consider irrelevant.
When we can go to the New Testament to ascertain what are
'the fruits of the spirit' of Christ, we cannot allow the authori¬
ty of man's judgment.
Another circumstance that should be regarded here Is the
paucity of our numbers. We are few in comparison with
most other sects. Ten years ago Unitarianism was professed
by a still smaller number than at present. Is it wonderful that
we have not accomplished so much in our day of weakness as
others in their day of strength.'' Besides, as was observed, we
have been too busy in maintaining our own ground to think
much of evangelizing others. Where are your missionary
establishments? say our opponents; where your societies that re¬
ceive vast sums into their treasuries and compass the globe in
the prosecution of their objects? where your gigantic enterprises
and your magnificent schemes for the good of the world? Sup¬
pose we can only point to the future and say, they are there;
—does it follow that we have done nothing because we have not
set any great and noisy machinery in motion? Or suppose that
we should retort upon those who question us with the inquiry,
where were your societies and your plans and your establish¬
ments at the close of the last century? what was Orthodoxy
doing for nearly three hundred years —what reply could they
give? But there is another method of silencing the taunt which
I prefer. I affirm that the success which has attended the efforts
of Unitarians in converting men to Christianity and to God has
not been exceeded on a fair comparison by the success which
has followed the efforts of any other denomination of Christians,
but that the instrumentality which they have used has effect¬
ed more than the same amount of instrumentality in any other
hands. And I hence infer that Unitarian Christianity is 'the
power of God unto salvation.'
20
While such remarks as these might be pursued to almost any
length, I am prepared to waive them, and to confess that Uni¬
tarians as a sect have not done so much as they ought for Christianity
either by direct efforts or by the force of example. But I ex¬
pressly maintain that this negligence is no proof of the inefficacy
of their opinions. For with all the error and defect that may
justly be imputed to those who hold these opinions, sufficient
evidence, as I said in the former part of this discourse, has been
given to put the spiritual power of these sentiments beyond all
doubt. I grieve only, that what if properly understood would
have become 'wisdom and righteousness and sanctification and
redemption' to every one by whom it was received, has been
rendered almost a dead letter through misapprehension of its na¬
ture. Two or three causes have conduced to this result.
In speaking 6f the disapprobation with which the greater part
of mankind were disposed to regard a religious system which
did not enjoin a strict morality I remarked, that there was a
class of men to whom a lax religion must be acceptable,—men
who would be glad to bear a respectable name under the shelter
of a system which allowed them to gratify their sensual or
earthly tastes. They hear Unitarianism represented as such a
system, and at once enlist themselves among its advocates, not
with the ititention of becoming better men, but for the sake of
appearance, reputation or worldly interest. In this country a
man secures more respect and confidence by professing a re¬
gard to Christianity than by openly despising it. Unitarianism
has disciples too among men of education and influence. To
those who desire to be Christians in name, and in name only, it
offers according to the Statement of its adversaries peculiar at¬
tractions. By such persons therefore it will naturally be taken
as convenient for their purpose. But which ought we to con¬
demn, the system or the misrepresentation which brings such
men into the number of its professors.' Having once called
themselves Unitarians on the false idea which they have received
of its character, they abide with us, to our great annoyance and
to the diffusion of the unjust impression to which we owe their
21
appearance among us. Such men, be it understood, cannot
represent our faith, because they know nothing of it.
Others are brought into connexion with our societies through
their dislike to Orthodoxy. They are oiFended with the senti¬
ments or measures of the predominant party in a town, and
learning that Unitarians disapprove of these sentiments or these
measures, they immediately call themselves Unitarians, and pass
for such in the community. They become zealous champions
of 'the cause,' are active in putting down the obnoxious opinions,
and betray the very worst kind of zeal. With them it is a suffi¬
cient objection to any measure, that it is adopted by those from
whom they dissent in regard to articles of faith. Propose a re¬
ligious meeting in the course of the week, or a society for any
purpose connected with the spread of Christian truth, or even a
Sunday school, and they decline to take part in such a scheme,
because 'it will be doing as tbe Orthodox do;' as if that were
any reason either for acting or for refusing to act. I have no sym¬
pathy, indeed I have not patience with this spirit of opposition.
It is the very dregs of illiberality. Such adherents cannot aid a
cause,—men who love it not, but hate that with which it may
happen to be contrasted. We want not such Unitarians among
us. Mere partisans, they neither understand us nor our sys¬
tem.
There are yet others, who belong to our societies because
circumstances independent of their religious persuasions have
brought them among us,—persons who would have swollen the
ranks of any other denomination if they had been differently sit¬
uated. It depends upon anything more than upon their faith or
their choice whether they shall worship in a Unitarian or a Cal-
vinistic church. They care very little about religion, either
dogmatic or practical. They are thinking only of their business
or their pleasure, and trouble themselves neither about iheolc^-
ical discussion nor spiritual improvement. In short, they are in
no sense of the word religious men. But what can hence be
proved.' That our faith lacks vitality and power.' No, cer¬
tainly not. It only appears that these men have not felt its pow-
22
er. Among Christians of every sect may be fouD4 persons of
this character; shall we therefore say that Christianity is an in¬
efficient, negative, system? The inference is as fair in the one
case as in the other. There were bad men in the Christian
Church in its earliest and purest days. Did not Paul speak of
those who 'held the truth in unrighteousness?' and may not the
truths of revealed as well as of natural religion be held in unright¬
eousness? Did not Peter predict the rise of those in the bosom
of the Church who should cause 'the truth to be evil spoken of?'
If we take the conduct of some who bring discredit on the
name which they bear as a proof of the character of their sys¬
tem, instead of looking at those whom it has formed after the
image of Christ, what system will escape condemnation?
If to such causes as these may be traced the accusation
which I have attempted to disprove, how plain is the duty of
those who cherish the opinions against which it is urged. It
rests with them to determine what credit this report shall enjoy.
So far as it respects our doctrinal tenets, we, my brethren, can
only declare them openly and explicitly. If others will persist
in calling a substance a shadow, we cannot help it. So far as
the moral or spiritual character of our faith is concerned, we
must endeavor to present it in its true light. If men will be
blind, we cannot compel them to see. But so far as the efficacy
of this system is involved, we can by our example afford an un¬
deniable argument in its favor. We may convince men in spite
of ignorance and prejudice and interest, that Unitarian Christian¬
ity is endued with a divine energy. Believe me, this argument
no one can gainsay or resist. Men yield to it sooner than to
any other. It addresses their senses, it addresses their reason,
it addresses their hearts. How have many Unitarians from time
to lime secured the honor of being considered by the opponents
of their faith exceptions to a general truth—anomalies, as it were,
in the moral world? By their characters. It is our characters,
our lives, that must prove the efficiency of our system. The
times are full of warning on the one hand and of encourage-
23
«
ment on the other.—A crisis seems to be approaching throughout
Christendom. I verily believe it is for us to say, whether the
Christian world shall rejoice in the peaceful light of truth,
or be tossed amidst storm and darkness. Look abroad. See
France the prey of irreligion. Catholic Europe half rent from its
allegiance to the Papal Power, Germany thirsting and toiling
after the right belief, while England, the champion of Christian¬
ity, is trembling under the necessity of a reform in her ec¬
clesiastical Establishment for which she can at this moment
neither summon the courage nor command the strength. Look
at our own continent. See the republics of South America
casting themselves again into the arms of the Romish hierarchy,
because they cannot learn that there is any better condition to
which they might aspire. Look at home. The people are
longing for a fervent and earnest religion, and in pursuit of it have
rushed into the wildest extravagances, from which they are just
now recoiling. Let us give them what they want. Tell them
that ours is a rational system, and they may not understand
you. Show them that it is Scriptural, and they may not be
moved to embrace it. But convince them that it is instinct
with vital godliness, and they will seize upon it with exultation.
The words of the Saviour will be verified, 'the kingdom of
heaven sufiereth violence and the violent take it by force.' Oh,
that we were alive to the responsibilities of our situation. Men
and brethren, presumptuous as it may seem, it is far, very far
from impossible that the destinies of the world are in our hands.
The truth by which mankind must be regenerated, before which
error, superstition, bigotry and fanaticism must flee as the
shades of night before the rising sun, is ours. We may cause
it to shine forth with irresistible power. Let us but feel its aw¬
ful majesty, its surpassing loveliness, its divine excellence, its
spiritual potency, and we shall let it beam from our characters
in its native radiance. Our duty, I repeat, is plain. Provi¬
dence announces it. The voice of posterity seems to anticipate
the approach of a coming age, that it may call us to its dis¬
charge. A cloud of witnesses among the philanthropic and
24
redeemed are bending from their celestial abodes to watch our
fidelity. The universe is pouring entreaty upon our ears.
Awake, if ye slumber. Be faithful to yourselves and to your
race, faithful for Christ's sake, faithful before God.
In obedience to their sense of duty under such circumstances
the builders of the house in which we are assembled have
raised its walls, and having under the blessing of heaven
completed their work, would now by solemn act dedicate it to
the purposes which they have had in view from the first conception
of the undertaking. We set it apart, consecrate, and forever
devote it to faith, duty, and improvement;—to faith in one God,
the Father everlasting, in one Lord Jesus Christ, the Son of
God, in a moral government to which all are subject, and a
righteous retribution to which all are destined; to duty, the ora¬
cle and will of God; and to improvement, the great interest of
man. Here may the doctrines of pure religion be declared, its
requisitions be inculcated, and its influence be unfolded.
Faith, hope, and love, ye sister spirits who preside over the
household of Christian graces, to you we dedicate this house.
Come hither with the congregation, and fill their hearts with the
joy of your presence. Touch the lips of him who shall speak,
and let him utter the words of heavenly life. Oh Christ, our
Master, to thee we dedicate this altar. May the prayers that
shall ascend hence in thy name to Him to whom thou hast taught
us to pray be quickened with the truth which thou didst reveal,
that they may be accepted through the grace which thou didst
sea! with thy precious blood. Oh God, our Father, to Thee
we dedicate this temple. Let thy blessing rest within it hence¬
forth until time shall reduce it to decay, and let the blessing
here realized be but the type and foretaste of that fulness of
blessing which they who may worship here shall enjoy in thy
heavenly presence forever.
»
A
SERMON
PREACHED AT THE
DEDICATION
OF THE
SECOND CONGREGATIONAL CHURCH
IN I.X!ICZ:STSR,
AUGUST la, 1834.
BY JAMES WALKER.
WORCESTER :
S. H. COLTON AND CO...PRINTERS.
1834.
DEDICATION SER3I0N.
—
Ephesians ii. J 9—22. JVoto, therefore, ye are no more strangers and
foreigners, Imt fdlow-citizens with the saints, and of the household of God ;
and are built upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, Jesus Christ
himself being the chief corner-stone; in whom all the building, fitly framed
together, grnceth unto an holy temple in the Lord : in whom ye also are
builded together for an hahitation' of God through the spirit.
We have now dedicated this building, in solemn prayer,
to the great purposes of moral and religious instruction,—
to the inculcation of the truth as it is in Jesus, and to the
worship of the Holy One. We hope and trust that it will
stand many years, and that, as long as it stands, it will be
to those who assemble here none other but the house of
God and the gate .of heaven.
In fixing on a text that would introduce a train of thought
at once' pertinent and edifying, I have been chiefly deter¬
mined by the imagery used by the apostle in the passage just
read. He compares the establishment of Christ's spiritual
kingdom on earth, and the union, harmony, and co-operation
of believers, to the erection of an edifice on the founda¬
tion of the apostles and other Christian teachers, "Jesus
Christ himself being the chief corner-stone. On this foun¬
dation Jews and Gentiles are built up together, and the
whole, fitly framed and joined, groweth up into a holy tem¬
ple in the Lord. The same apostle has said in another
connection, " Know ye not, that ye are the temple of God,
4
and that the spirit of God dwelleth in you ? If any man
defile the temple of God, him shall God destroy ; for the
temple of God is holy, which temple ye are." Again, he
has said : "And* what agreement hath the temple of God
with idols for ye are the temple of the living God ; as
God hath said, ' I will dwell in them, and walk in them ;
and I will be their God, and they shall be my people."
And once more : " What ! know ye not, that your body
is the temple of the Holy Spirit which is in you, which ye
have of God. And ye are not your own, for ye are bought
with a price : therefore glorify God in your body, and in
your spirit, which are God's."
The figure thui repeatedly introduced is strikingly beau¬
tiful and expressive. The transition is always natural and
easy, and never more so than on an occasion like the
present, from the outer and material to the inner and spir¬
itual temple. The outer and material temple we behold ; it
is finished and dedicated ; we are worshipping in it. But
how, we almost involuntarily ask ourselves, is the inner
and spiritual temple to be built up in the soul.'
Christianity was given for the special, I believe I may
say, the sole purpose of directing and helping us in the
accomplishment of this great work. It was not given to
resolve our doubts and difficulties respecting the metaphys¬
ical nature of God or the human soul, nor to prescribe a
new theory of religion or morals, or a new ritual of wor¬
ship, as would sometimes seem to be erroneously implied
in the controversies and other movements of the church.
It was not given to exempt man from the operation of a
singly physical or moral law, nor to encourage him in the
expectation of any blessing whatsoever, except through a
compliance with the conditions on which it depends, nor
to supply him with substitutes of any name or nature for
self exertion and personal holiness. Far from it. On
the contrary, it is of the utmost importance, in a practical
5
point of view, that we sliould know and consider, that the
whole end and aim of Christianity, as a way and means
of salvation, is to quicken in us a sense of our moral and
spiritual nature, and of the reality of the moral and spirit¬
ual world, that by the influence of the new power thus
brought into action the inward life of the believer may
be developed, and built up, and grow into a holy temple
in the Lord.
A proper understanding and consideration of this princi¬
ple will lead us to take a different view from that which is
commonly given of three subjects much controverted among
Christians,—Faith, Regeneration, and Atonement.* These
subjects, so far as religion is concerned, are to be treated,
as it seems to me, not as matters of speculation, but as
matters of experience,—not- as doctrines or opinions which
a man is to hold or reject, but as successive epochs in a
moral and spiritual life, through which he is to pass. Faith,
regeneration, and atonement are the three stages arrived at
successively in the development of the life of God in the
soul of man, as this life is built up and grows into a holy
temple in the Lord. And here, as it seems to me, we find
the true reason why so much stress is laid in the Christian
Scriptures on the necessity of faith, regeneration, and
atonement, as conditions of salvation. It is that they con¬
stitute, as I hope to be able to show in a few words, the
three great epochs in a moral and spiritual life, through
which every Christian is expected to pass, and with each
one of which, as it is successively arrived at, commences
a series of new and peculiar phenomena, necessary to
the entire development of his nature, or to his realization
of the idea of a perfect man. ,
I. Rvery thing that is peculiaidy religious or spiritual
origuiates in Faith ; by which I understand a sense of the
reality of the spiritual world. The term as here used, you
will observe, has hardly any thing to do with the different
6
opinions or theories on religious subjects, which have
prevailed among Christians. You may believe in one
set of religious opinions or In one religious theory, and
I may believe in another ; yet both of us may believe
in religion itself as a reality : and in that pase both of
us have faith. On the other hand, two persons may
speculate alike on religious subjects, so that as far as
speculation goes they may agree exactly ; yet one may
believe in religion as a reality, and the other believe in
it as a speculation merely ; and in this case the former'
has faith, and the latter has not. The question, therefore,
does noa turn on the peculiar views which a Christian
entertains of religion, but on his believing in religion as a
reality. The question does not turn on his peculiar vievfs
of the spiritual world, but on lys believing in the spiritual
world as a reality. To have faith, in the sense in which
that term is here understood, it is necessary that a man
should feel, and speak, and act under the influence of a
living sense of the existence and reality of the spiritual
world, just as he feels, and speaks, and acts under the
influence of a living sense of tire existence and reality
of the material world.
This faith, as has been intiriiated, is the beginning of
religion in the human soul ; and it is the capacity of this
faith which makes a man capable of religion. I do not
say but that, without this faith, he may attain to consider¬
able degrees in knowledge, refinement, and civilization,—
nay, to some degrees of benevolence, philanthropy, and
conscientiousness ; but I do say, that without this faith he
cannot attain to any degree of religion. By fins, faith, he
becomes alive and awake to a whole class of truths, rela¬
tions, and existences, to which before he was asleep or
dead. It may be regarded ih many respects as the ^de¬
velopment of a new sense. When I say this, however,
you will observe that I do not say, the creation of a new
7
sense, but the development of a new sense. It is not
something superinduced on human nature, nor does it
originate in^ or result from, any thing superinducçd on hu¬
man nature. It owes its existence to a more entire and
perfect development of that nature,—I do not mean, of
the intellect alone or chiefly, hut rather of its moral and
spiritual capacities—no matter whether this development is
eflected hy the mind's own internal growth, or hy a regu¬
lar training, or hy powerful hut incidental causes. The
capacity for this faith is horn in us ; so that it is only
necessary that it should he put forth. And then we see
things, as we did not and could not see them before ; hut
it is only because the spiritual eye is opened.
In all this, I repeat it, there is nothing supernatural or
miraculous, and nothing which is to he regarded as of the
character of a new creation, in the literal and strict sense
of that term. It is a new development merely, a new
development of the nature of man as man, brought about
in every instance, as we must presume, in exact conformity
to the laws which God has impressed on that nature. It
is a development, however, to which too much importance
can hardly he attached, as it is the first of the three great
epochs in a moral and spiritual life, and that one, with
which the spiritual life, properly so called, must he said
to commence.
II. Regeneration follows; hy which I understand, not
merely reformation of life and manners, hut a reformation
originating in the adoption of a new set of principles.
Prior to this regeneration, it is obvious that men may and
do differ from one anothet in regard to their moral deserts.
Nevertheless there is, as it seems to mç, this essential and
palpable distinction between all who are regenerate, and all
who are unregenerate, that the former, both in their out¬
ward conduct and inward life, do really recognize and feel
their relations to the spiritual world, while the latter do
8
not. Regeneratron, or the now life, is the life of faith,
and bears the same relation to faith itself which the life of
the senses hears to the senses themselves. It consists of
*
the dispositions, and tastes, and purposes, which the new
influences, that we are brought under by faith, have the
effect to awaken or confirm in the soul. A man may
doubtless grow wiser and better as long as he lives, though
acting on such principles alone as what is called worldly
wisdom will supply. But this is not regeneration-. It is
not until he becomes thorouglily alive to his spiritual re¬
lations,—it is not until he comes under that new set of
influences, which owes its power and its very being to a
living faith as defined above, that the new life begins.
He is then born of the spirit. It is regeneration. He
feels himself to be, as it were, in another world, and he
becomes another ma».
Taking this view of regeneration, we may certainly say
of it, a^ we did of faith, that, though a necessary change
in the formation of the Christian character, it is not to be
regarded in the light of a supernatural or miraculous change.
It does not consist in any thing superinduced on human
nature, but in a more entire development of this nature,
subjected indeed to new influences, but with no infraction
of its laws. We are born capable of this regeneration ;
every man is born capable of this regeneration ; the foun¬
dations of it are laid in his moral and spiritual constitution.
Indeed, until he is thus born again, his spiritual nature
cannot properly be said to be born at all ; so that, until
he is born again, he is but half-born. It is one Stage,
and a necessary one, in the soul's natural growth ;—one
step in its onward course, differing from every preceding
or succeeding step in this, that it does not consist in
carrying out still further the old set of principles, but in
beginning to act on a new set of principles. It is one
of the three great epochs of a moral and spiritual life,
faith being the first, as we have seenj and regeneration
9
the second ;—faith opening the sonl to a new set of in¬
fluences, and regeneration beings the natural and legitimate
changes wrought in the soul itself thereby.
III. Let" me add, that in the divine economy, both
these great epochs in the soul's life look for their consummar
tion in the third and last epoch,—Atonement ; by which
I understand union or reconciliation with the Deity. Many,
I know, hesitate to approve of the frequent use of the
word atonement, on the ground, that it occurs but once in
the common translation of the New Testament,* and, there-
* Romans v. 11. " The words, as they stand in the public version, have
an uncouth sound, " by whom wo have now received the atonement
but tJie translation is strictly just. The word atonement, at the time
when this version was made, signified nothing more than reconciliation,
or setting those at one who before were at variance,. But of late years,
this word has acquired a mystical sense ; and has been used to express
an action or suffering, by one person or victim, through which the anger
of another person is appeased. And in this sense we are told that the
death of Christ is an atonement for the sins of men ; that is, that it
appeases the wrath of God, and satisfies the claims of justice. But no
such doctrine as this, nor any thing approaching to it, is to be found in the
New Testament."—Belsham's Epistles of Paid, ad loc. " Though I consider
the. terra atonement, at-one-mcnt, as really corresponding to reconciliation,
I cannot refuse assent to the opinion of Sykes, that it ought not to be
used respecting the purposes of our Saviour's death, since it is not the
language of Scripture, and the substitution of one word for another is
too apt to mislead the most wary. The word atonement is used once
only in the public version of the New Testament, [Rom. v. 11.,] and
then as the translation of a word in the original, which is elsewhere
rightly translated reconciliation, as it ought to have been hero.—Carpenter's
Unitarianism the Doctrine of the Gospel, p. 342. See also Romans, v.
10, xi. 15. 2 Corinthians, v. 18, 19,20, where the same original word
translated atonement as above, and its modifications, are uniformly ren¬
dered reconciliation, reconciling, or reconciled. " On this word, [atone¬
ment,] wrested from its analogy and plain import, the doctrine of Christ's
death being an expiatory equivalent chiefly rests ; it rests, therefore, on a
verbal fiction."—An Appeal to Scripture and Ti adition in Defence of the
Unitarian Faith, p. 153. The true import of the original term is fully
brought out in the apostolic declaration, " Now then we are ambassadors
for Christ, as though God did beseech you by us ; we pray you in
Christ's stead, be ye reconciled to God," or set at one with him.
2
10
fore, to say the least, does not seem to be needed in a
full exposition of the Christian doctrine. And here I am
free to say, that the word is not needed in such a sense,
that no other can he found in the language to supply its
place ; and again, that it is a circumstance not a little
curious that those most addicted in general to a scriptural
phraseology manifest such an extreme partiality for a terra,
which, in the common version, is used by but one of the
New Testament writers, and by him in hut a single in¬
stance. Nevertheless I am willing that the word should
stand ; for though, as has been said, it occurs but once
in the English New Testament, words equivalent to it
occur often. It means being at one with another, or with
others—being reconciled. To he in concord, to be recon¬
ciled, is to be at one. At-one-ment, therefore, or atone¬
ment means reconciliation ; and when applied to Cliristians
in their spiritual relations, it means, that they are at one
with Christ and with God. It is the consummation which
our Saviom- had in view, when he prayed, " That they
all may be one ; as thou. Father, art in me, and I in thee,
that they also may be one in us ; that the world may
believe that thou hast sent me."
The great, and I regret the necessity I am under of
adding the prevalent error, on this subject, originates, in not
reflecting, that this atonement is a state of the soul. It
is not to he regarded as a speculative doctrine addressed
to the reason and understanding ; but as a moral fact, a
matter of consciousness, a state of the soul. It is not to
be confoimded with expiatory equivalents of any kind ; or
with what has been done for us by another, or by otliers,
or even by ourselves. It is the practical result of all
that has been done, as manifested in the state of our own
souls. Atonement, in other words, must not be con¬
founded with the means or agencies by which it is brought
about. God, it is true, was in Christ, reconciling the
11
world to himself, and therefore it is by Christ that "we re¬
ceive the atonement" ; but the atonement itself is the state
of being reconciled, a state of the dispositions and affec¬
tions, a state of the soul. It is one stage, and the last
one in the soul's natural development and growth, as it
comes under the highest influences of 'which it is suscep¬
tible, and for which it was created. It is one, and the
last of the three great epochs in the moral and spiritual
life ;—faith, regeneration, atonement :—the last takes
place, and we are at one with God.
Faith, Regeneration, Atonement. Man begins with the
light of the senses ; the light of the understanding gradually
dawns upon him, and he is able to reflect on his relations
to the sensible world ; conscience is meanwhile develop¬
ed, and he feels himself to be a moral being ; faith opens
his eyes on the realities of the spiritual world ; new in¬
fluences are poured in on the soul, and a new life, the
spiritual life, properly so called, commences ; and this life
tends towards and is consummated in union with God.
Thus it is that the entire man is gradually revealed and
put forth. Thus it is, that we successively attain to one
degree after another of light, and spirituality, and perfec¬
tion. All is from God. As Lord Bacon beautifully
expresses it, " The first creature of God, in the works of
the seven days, was the light of sense ; the last was the
light of reason ; and his Sabbath work ever since is the
illumination of his Spirit. First, he breathed light upon
the face of the matter or chaos ; then he breathed light
into the face of Man ; and still he breatheth and inspireth
light into the face of his chosen." Thus it is that we " are
built up on the foundation of the apostles and prophets,
Jesus Christ himself being the chief corner-stone ; in
whom all the building, fitly framed together, groweth into
an holy temple in the Lord ; in whom ye also are builded
together for an habitation of God through the spirit."
12
Faith, Regeneration, Atonement. I confess, I love to
speak of the spiritual life as passing through these great
epoehs, and of the epochs themselves under these scrip¬
tural and time-hallowed names,—names which have become
part of the sacred language of all Christian nations, and
with whict almost every one's earliest religious impressions
are associated. Some will object, perhaps, that these terms
ha^e acquired a theological sense in the popular language
very different from their true and scriptural sense, and,
therefore, that to persist in using them, can only lead to
misunderstandings, as we shall be thought to hold the
theological opinions which they are commonly used to
designate. This, however, is a danger which a little care
and explicitness will be sufficient almost entirely to re¬
move ; and besides, if there is danger on one side, there
is also danger on the other. If we studiously avoid using
the terms in question, will it not lead many erroneously to
suspect that we have renounced the all-important facts
and sentiments, which these terms in their true and scrip¬
tural sense signify and represent ? Indeed, I believe it
will be found, that in point of fact, and so far as the
popular mind is concerned, the deepest and most effective
prejudices against Liberal Christianity have*sprung from
this very misconception. We have been erroneously sup¬
posed to reject not only Calvinistic views of faith, re¬
generation, and atonempnt, but what we ourselves believe
to be the scriptural views on these subjects. I must say,
too, that I am not entirely without hope that men may
come at length to consider the great facts of a religious
life, apart from all speculations growing out of them ; and
that they may come to something like an agreement in
regard to these facts ; and that every one's pretensions
to the Christian character will be tried by the evidence
he gives of really living a Christian life, without any
regard to the notions he may entertain respecting the
13
philosophy of its inward or outward manifestations. Could
I contribute however little to bring about such a state of
things, there is no earthly object for which I would make
greater efforts or sacrifices.
Faith, Regeneration, Atonement. You will perceive that
I have not aimed to treat these topics abstractedly and at
length, but only as they exist in relation to one another
as facts, and as they enter into and constitute the spir¬
itual life. I cannot but think that by accustoming the
commimity to this view of the subject,—^by leading them
to look on the spiritual life as consisting of facts, and not
of doctrines or opinions, as a matter of experience and
not of speculation, as an inward life-giving principle which
may manifest itself under a thousand different outward
forms, we shall gradually cut up by the roots every ground
and occasion of exclusiveness. Moreover, by simply in¬
dicating, as I have feebly attempted to do, the manner
in which the great facts in the spiritual life follow ' one
another in the development of human nature, as it comes
under the appropriate influences, we may hope to induce
every one to reverence his nature, and to see in the in¬
fant and the savage, in the njost degraded of mankind, in
his neighbor and in himself, not merely what he is, but
what he is capable of becoming. And, finally, in the
same proportion as men imderstand that every step and
stage of the spiritual life, and even its three great epochs,
faith, regeneration, and atonement, follow one another as
natural causes and natural effects, and that they are all
brought about without the smallest infringement of the
mind's laws or the mind's freedom, it is clear that every
thing in the shape of superstition will be banished from
religion, just as, in the same way, and by the same means,
it has been banished from ordinary life.
My subject was suggested, however, as you will re¬
member, by the question which so naturally grew out of
14
the occasion. How is the inner and spiritual temple to
be built up in the soul ? I have endeavored to answer
this question, poorly and feebly, I know, but as I could.
May God give effect to what I have said. The outward
and material temple—what is it ? A few years will pass
and the deep stains of time will be upon its mouldering
walls,—a few years more and it will tumble into ruins.
But the soul—the renewed and sanctified soul is a living
temple of the living God—the temple as spiritual as
the worship—the shrine as eternal and indestructible as
the God. Stand in awe of this revelation of the divinity
that is made within you, for your souls have become, as'
it were, the presence chamber of the infinite One. Take
care that this temple be not defiled by evil passions or
thoughts ; that the vices of a carnal mind come not into
the precincts of what should be pure, as God is pure ; that
prejudice and sin cast not their dark shadows over the
inefl'able light of the indwelling Spirit. The soul, the
renewed and sanctified soul, is a holy temple in the
Lord. Build up this temple ;—build it up on the founda¬
tion of the apostles and prophets, Jesus Christ himself
being the chief corner-stone. But take care how and
what ye build, for if " any man build on this foundation,
gold, silver, precious stones—wood, hay, stubble ; every
man's work shall be made manifest : for the day shall
declare it, because it shall be revealed by fire." Never¬
theless build up this temple ; build it. up on the foundation
of the apostles and prophets, Jesus Christ himself being
the chief corner-stone. " To whom coming, as to a
living stone, disallowed indeed of man, but chosen of
God and precious, ye also as lively stones are built up
a spiritual house, an holy priesthood, to offer up spiritual
sacrifices acceptable to God by Jesus Christ."
TERMS OF PEACE.
A
SERMON
AT THE
iE)íiiE)noü®ii®S5' ©IF ípum
IN SOUTH ORANGE, MASS,
BY HENRY COLMAN.
SECOND EDITION.
GREENFIELD.
FRINTED BY JAMBS P. POOG.
1834.
To the Ret. John Pierce, D. D.,
of Brookline, Mass.,
Who through life has illustrated the duties here en¬
forced, by the most cordial charity ■ and kindness and the
most exemplary equity and fidelity towards his fellow
christians of every, denomination, " ever studying the
things which make for peace," this sermon is inscribed in
testimony of the grateful respect and afiection of its
Author.
Meadowbanks, Deerfield, Feb. 12, 1834.
NOTE.
Tas Church at South Orange, Mass, is a modest and
tasteful edifice, situated on the rising ground in the rear
of this small but flourishing village; and in the neigh<
borhood of the rapid stream called Miller's River, which,
in its broken and winding course among the mountains
from this place to the Connecticut, presents examples of
the most romantic and picturesque scenery. This Church
was built by a friendly union for this object of individuals
of diflerent religious persuasions. The dedication took
place on the 15th January, 1834. The Rev. Mr. Fay of
Athol, Baptist, Mr. Goddard of Wendell, Baptist, and
Mr. Wilson of Petersham, Congregationalist, assisted in
the services of the occasion. The Sermon is printed at
the request of the Society.
SERMON.
I. COR. III. 3.
Whereas there is among you envying and strife and
divisions, are ye not carnal and walk AS men ?
For while one saith, I am of PaUL ; and another, I
am of Apollos, are ye not carnal ?
The Christian world is full of divisions, parties, and
conflicting sects ; and of the animosities, quarrels, ill hu¬
mors, and malignities, to which the heated passions, the op¬
posing interests, the vanity, self-conceit, and violent preju¬
dices of the undisciplined heart naturally give birth. The
history of the Church is written in characters of blood ;
and the cruelties, which have been perpetrated in the
name of the Prince of Peace, who came to the earth on a
mission of love, are sufficient to convulse the benevolent
mind with horror. There are no atrocities in the history
or manners of the most ferocious and savage nation more
enormous than those, which men, who had the presump¬
tion to call themselves Christians, have committed upon
some of their fellow men, so unfortunate as to fall under
their power, who presumed, and certainly had an equal
right, to call themselves Christians. They have been ar¬
rested; imprisoned and had all their property, the lawful
earnings of their hard labor, taken from them ; they have
6
been scourged until the blood, flowed in Btreaips from
their wounds ; they have been pilloried, cropped, hand-
cuffedj left to sufTer and die in filthy dungeons among
the most abandoned felons. They have been thumb-
screwed, and had their limbs crushed with clubs upon a
wheel. They have been branded and had red-hot irons
put against the soles of their feet and the palms of their
hands ; and melted lead poured down their throats ; and
they have been hung, and gibbeted, and crucified, and
burnt alive at the stake by slow fires, in the outraged name
of religion ;—not on account of their crimes ; for these
miserable victims of fanaticism have often been among
the best of men ; but for their opinions ; or because they
would not conform to the notions or superstitious services
and ceremonies of those, who set themselves up as the
true interpreters of the word of God. Filled with pride
and malignity they were determined that all others, over
whom they had or could acquire control, should conform
to their notions ; and should be measured upon their Pro¬
crustean bedstead ; which they must exactly fit ; if they
were too short they were to be stretched out ; and if they
were too long they must be sawed off, until they were
brought exactly to the.tyrant's rule.
These are melancholy, dreadful facts, of which the
history of the Christian Church is little more than a reci¬
tal. These were not rare occurrences ; they are not facts,
which took place so long since, that they ought scarcely
to be related of the human race in its present condition.
It is far otherwise; their history is fresh ; the wounds are
scarcely staunched ; the shrieks and groans ofthe wretch¬
ed sufferers have scarcely died away upon the ear ; and
it is within the last twenty years, that one great monu¬
ment of these deplorable enormities, the place where
above all others these cruelties were permitted, encour¬
aged, and authorised, where these horrible instruments of
7
torture were prepared and sharpened, and the smoke of
these inhuman torments was seen continually ascending,
has been closed, if indeed it has been closed at all.
Our own country in this case is not blameless. She
cannot lift up her hands and say she is innocent. 0 no !
they also are stained with blood." Our fathers seemed
never to have learnt wisdom nor charity by what they suf¬
fered ; but their persecutions of the Quakers and t"lie Bap¬
tists were as outrageous and cruel as the intolerance and
violence, which drove them from their homes to seek for
liberty of conscience, opinion, and worship in this west¬
ern wilderness. Let us thank God, my Christian friends,
that the day of these bloody cruelties with us has passed
away, and we trust forever. Public opinion and feeling
have reacted with a mighty power ; and the tide is still
rising in its majesty ; and penetrating those dark places of
the earth, which as yet have never felt its power ; and
is yet, we humbly trust, destined to rise stUl higher and
to spread far wider, until it has swept every entrench¬
ment and obliterated every vestige of religious intolerance
and despotism from the earth. The excellent form of
government under which we live, has separated utterly
the civil from the ecclesiastical power ; and has proclaim¬
ed an unrestricted toleration, to all sects in religion, who
demean themselves peaceably under the laws.
Yet even here, with all this light and under all these ad¬
vantages, persecution for religion has not ceased. The
monster is not destroyed. True, he is chained; his claws
muffled; his teeth filed down; but he still oftentimes shakes
his frightful mane ; and utters his terrific bowlings, infus¬
ing alarm into the timid, kindling a sympathetic anger in
the violent and ferocious ; and shows us what he would
do, if he could. Persecution, I say, still exists among
us ; it presents itself under a different aspect from what it
8
used to wear ; it assumes a milder but it still wears a ma¬
lignant form ; like a dangerous reptile it creeps insidious¬
ly^ where it dares not show itself openly ; it ceases to give
alarm by shaking its rattles ; but it often inflicts a deadly
bite and spits out its fatal venom. Having no longer
power to assail the person, it poisons the reputation; at¬
tacks that which is far more valuable than property; and,
in destroying his character and impairing his virtuous in¬
fluence, inflicts upon a good man, in many cases, a greater
injury than death. The pride of opinion, the love of pow¬
er, and the desire of subjecting others to our pleasure, to
say nothing of the ferocious gratification which some men
have, in witnessing the sufferings, which they cause to
the wretched victims of their tyranny, are among the
strongest sentiments of the human heart ; and until the
heart is entirely subdued to the mild influences of the gos¬
pel, we can hardly look for their extinction.
These, my friends, are melancholy, dreadful truths, ver¬
ified in almost every community and every day's experi¬
ence. We see the operation and eflfects of this spirit in the
numberless conflicting sects and parties, which are every
where rising up among us ; struggling for the mastery, as
drowning men struggle for their lives ; poisoning all the
streams of social intercourse, and pouring the elements of
discord, confusion, and hatred into the most secluded re¬
tirements of domestic life ; arraying neighbors and kins¬
men, brothers and sisters, parents and children, and not
seldom, those connected by more tender bonds, in unre¬
lenting hostility against each other.
Is this Christianity ? It is nothing like it. It has not a
single feature ; not even a shadow of resemblance to this
divine law of love. Is this religion No ! it is "that car¬
nal mind, which is enmity against God." Is this the influ-
9
ence ofthe divine spirit ? No ! it is the influence of the
worst passions of the heart. Men call it zeal for God ;
but it is nothing but a miserable fanaticism ; or a guilty
love of power, or a thirst for notoriety, or perhaps for gain,
springing from base and ungoverned passions. Truth is
hidden under a cloud of mystery ; the light of reason and
common sense' goes out in this poisoned atmosphere of
prejudice, selfishness, and malignity ; and the gentle
voice of charity is drowned in She whirlwind of pas¬
sion.
These are dreadful evils. The efiects of these quarrels
and divisions, are most injurious to the welfare of soci¬
ety and the interests of religion. Peace is among the
greatest blessings of life ; and absolutely necessary to the
enjoyment of any other. The heart, which is disturbed
with angry feelings, is not in a condition to enjoy any
thing ; and a family, neighborhood, or community in a quar¬
rel, with their malignant passions excited and sharpened,
is like the troubled sea, heaving from its lowest depths,
when the waves run high and every thing valuable floating
on its raging surface is thrown into imminent peril and con¬
fusion. In such a disturbed condition of society, all its
best interests are neglected, endangered, or destroyed.
The quarrels and animosities of many, calling them¬
selves Christians, have done more than all the scurrilous
writings, and all the violent attacks of atheists and in¬
fidels to destroy the good influences, to impair the bene¬
ficent power, and to dishonor the character of religion.—
If religion, instead of being the chain of love, becomes
only the engine of discord ; if instead of waving the olive
branch, it brandishes only the glittering sword; if instead
of shedding the genial influences of a summer's sun, it
brings over the community only the rushing wind, the
*2
10
lurid flashes, and the deep roarings of the storm, its ap¬
proach must be regarded with dreads
But alas ! my friends, how much has the gospel been
abused ; how much has its heavenly and peaceful spirit
been outraged by the intermingling of ferocious, selfish,
and resentful passions. Nothing was ever more hostile
to its character than angry contention, domineering over
our fellow-men, bigotry, and exclusiveness. Our Saviour
taught the duty of universal charity, and unvarying equi¬
ty. If men presume to be Christians they must love their
neighbor as themselves ; and do to others as they would
that others should do to them; or they can have no claims
to that high character. Our Saviour never designed to
establish any exclusive sect. Can you find in his dis¬
courses any particular creed, which men must believe in
order to be his disciples ? There is none on record. Pin
a leaf of the Assembly's Catechism next to the Sermon on
the Mount ; and when you read them in connexion, see
if you can perceive no incongruity or difference. Possi¬
bly they may appear alike, if you will read them through
the optics of prejudice and party bias ; but not if you read
them with the eyes of your understanding, that being en¬
lightened. Did our Saviour prescribe any particular form
of worship ? Nothing like it. He taught his disbiples a
short and simple form of prayer ; and such a form as men
of every religion and every sect may use, without offence
to the most tender conscience. Did our Saviour give his
followers any particular name by which they should be dis¬
tinguished and krîown ? Nothing like it ; They were not
even called Christians until many years after his death.*
Did he give any badge or sign by which his disciples
should be distinguished ? He did indeed ; but a very dif¬
ferent one from those, which are commonly assumed.—
•Acts XI, 26.
11
"By this shall all men know that ye are my disciples, if
ye have love one to another. Ye are my friends, if ye do
whatsoever I command you. He that is not against us is
on our part. Whosoever shall do the will of my Father,
which is in Fleaven, the same is my mother, and sister,
and brother."
That it never was designed or required that all persons
should think or believe alike is obvious, for the simple
reason, that until their whole nature is changed, it is im-^
possible. Belief is not matter of will but of evidence.—
Men cannot believe as they please ; but they must believe
as they see reason to believe ; unless they believe with¬
out reason ; and a faith, which has no grounds to rest upon,
is mere pretence and worth nothing. In order that men
should believe precisely alike they must all have had the
same capacities, the same knowledge, the same educa¬
tion, and occupy the same place of observation ; and as^
prejudices, and dispositions, and morals, and countless in¬
fluences of society and connexion intermix themselves
with our opinions, and give a coloring to our belief, so
we must suppose these to be in every case the same, if we
expect that the faith of all men is to be the same. The
views of men are materially affected by the post of obser¬
vation, which they occupy. A tall man, in many situa¬
tions, can see what is concealed from one of short stature.
From the summit of the mountain the prospect is very
different from that of the valley. It would be as reasona¬
ble to demand that all the birds of the air should utter the
same notes and sing the same song, as that all men should
hold the same faith and worship under the same form.—
Do you suppose that this difference makes any ground of
difference in the favor of that Heavenly Father, who
hears the raven's cry and observes the sparrow's fall ; or
that the joyful and explosive and grateful hymn of praise,,
12
which the robin pours forth at break of day, is more or
less acceptable to him than the plaintive notes of the lark
at the approach of evening ?
As things are now constituted a perfect accordance of
opinion on the subject of religion is no more to be expect¬
ed than a perfect accordance of opinion on any other sub¬
ject of science or philosophy, where the truths sought af¬
ter are not the subjects of investigation as exact as any
mathematical calculation ; and, for the same reason in re¬
ligion as in other sciences, every man being left free to
pursue his inquiries with the best advantages, which his
character, attainments, and situation afford, and the ad¬
vantages in different men being as various as possible, it
is to be expected that their progress in truth and knowl¬
edge should be various ; and the results to which they
arrive as various.
In the scriptures themselves, the great source of relig¬
ious knowledge, there are many unavoidable obscurities.
The most learned, discerning, and candid inquirers are
not secure from misconceptions and false judgements, even
in respect to subjects, which are deemed most plain. An
infallible interpretation of the scriptures, unless it were
given by immediate inspiration, is not to be expected.—
That all men might see alike it would have been necessa¬
ry that the principles of religion should have been drawn
up in an exact and systematic form ; it would then have
been as necessary that the translators, and more than
that, the readers themselves of the scriptures should have
been secured from the possibility of mistake. Had it
been therefore the design of Divine Providence that all
men should entertain the same views of religious truth, we
have reason to conclude that the provision for this end
would have been much more particular and apparént; and
an effectual security would have been made attainable
against the numerous mistakes and the opposite conclu-
13
sions into which the most anxious, inquisitive, and bes^
informed minds are liable to fall.
Nor in the next place is it desirable that all men should
hold the same opinions in religion. We acknowledge the
value of truth. We hold always that intellectual improve¬
ment and advancement is a great good; and that, as some
errors are prejudicial, some truths are in the highest
measure important and valuable to our consolation and
virtue. But with regard to the fundamentartruths of re¬
ligion, those which are moral and practical, and which
serve to form the character, it must be acknowledged
that they are few and simple ; and among the plainest
truths of religion ; that in fact they make a part of the
creed of almost every sect of Christians, and have been
seldom brought into controversy. With respect to many
other topics in religion, which are subjects of speculation
only, it is of little moment on which side our belief re¬
poses; and though truth is in all cases preferable to er¬
ror, yet there is a compensation for our liability to error,
in the excitement which is given to our inquiries by the
very uncertainty in which many of the truths of religion
are involved ; in the affecting lessons, which such uncer¬
tainty, appertaining as it often does to the wisest men,
brings home tous concerning our own imperfection and the
fallability of all human judgment; and in the strong mo¬
tives and fit occasions, which such diversities of opinion
afford, for the exercise of mutual forbearance and good
will ; dispositions as friendly to our own personal com¬
fort as they are important to the welfare of the Christian
community.
The history of the persecutions, monopolies, quarrels,
and exclusions, which have taken place in the Christian
Church, is indeed a dark, afflictive, and humiliating histo¬
ry. It was an enchanting picture, which the Christian
14
community exhibited in its earliest days, when they, who
believed had all things common ; when there was but one
heart among them ; when the object of universal solicitude
was how they should serve each other ; and when even
the heathen, who witnessed their mutual kindness, were
compelled to exclaim " Behold, how these Christians love
one another !" They were then united by a common dis¬
tress. Persecution compelled them to stand together that
they might support each other. Adversity often strength¬
ens and cements those ties, which in the genial warmth of
prosperity are loosened and dissolved. Many of the ear¬
ly disciples likewise had learnt their religion from the lips
and life of their blessed master himself ; had been privi¬
leged to sit in his presence ; had heard his kind words ;
had witnessed his self-command ; had marked his affec¬
tionate devotion to the interests of ottiers ; had seen his
tenderness and humility, his inflexible forbearance, his
immoveable self-possession, his unmeasured kindness ;
the influence of such an example, under circumstances so
peculiar, could not have been immediately lost upon them.
They had heard too, with all the reverence, which it
would naturally inspire in affectionate hearts, his dying
injunction to love one another. But circumstances after his
death soon became changed. As converts were made to
the gospel from other religions they often brought with
them the peculiarities of their former belief ; and many of
the violent and vindictive prejudices of their early educa¬
tion. The converted Jews endeavored to engraft upon
their new religion some of the characteristics of their old
religion ; and those, who were bi'ought out of the schools
of their philosophers and dragged from the polluted tem¬
ples of idolatry, often retained a strong tincture of opin¬
ions, which were sanctioned under the proud name of wis¬
dom ; and a reverence for rites, which deserved no name
but that of superstition. The mixture of materials so dis-
15
similar led to collision and controversy. When Christi¬
anity became the established religion, and assumed the
imperial purple, then there arose, as was to be expected,
a strong desire to compel men to receive it ; and men in
power, having begun to exercise this authority over the
religion of others, soon became enamoured of its sweet¬
ness ; and attempts on their part to produce conformity
of opinion or worship, from the original tendency of the
human mind, led to resistance and still greater diversity
of opinion.
We pass over the period of the dark ages, when every
thing was settled by a power purely political, calling itself
the church ; when men were debarred approach to the
avenues of religious knowledge, and could not see differ¬
ently because they did not see at all ? and when no diver¬
sity of opinion could be said to prevail because in truth no
diversity of the intellectual features could be discerned,
where the minds of all were involved in a common and
impervious obscurity. As soon as the light of the Refor¬
mation dawned upon them, and while as yet it threw but
a glimmering radiance over the region upon which the
thickest darkness had brooded for centuries, the human
mind, naturally impatient of the restraint in which it had
been so long held, began to diverge into different and op¬
posite paths. As yet however men had not learnt the
proper and free use of their powers, and so ventured with
great caution and distrust into the boundless and unexplor¬
ed field, of inquiry ; and even those, who had led the way
out of the dungeon in which they had been immured, were
not willing that those, who followed them, shouldbe trust¬
ed out of their sight ; and least of all that they should go
before them ; and so they forced them back ; and not
only refused to go any farther themselves but insisted that
others should go no farther than they did ; and though
they had succeeded in shaking off the fetters of the old
16
church themselves, they were for binding hand and feet
those, over whom they had any power ; and presumed to
say to the inquiries of men, " hitherto shall ye come but
no farther."
The mind however, having tried its strength, was not
to be longer restrained. The attempts to keep it down
have served only to render it in most cases, from its na¬
tive elasticity, the more impatient of these restrictions.
The civil arm has often been exerted to establish the su¬
premacy of some one sect, which, in the struggle and rev¬
olutions of society has happened to be uppermost. It
has put forth the power of laws. It has tested the effica¬
cy of pecuniary penalties. It has seen what imprison¬
ment and torture would do. It has kindled the flames of
persecution ; and has tried the effect of fire upon the flesh
by way of correcting the irregularities of the mind. Ev¬
ery method, which human ingenuity or refined cruelty
could devise, has been attempted to restrain the inquiries
of men ; or rather to bring them to a conformity to the pre¬
dominant standard of religious doctrine. But it has all
been in vain. With the attempts to produce uniformity
<5x conformity of faith or worship, dissent and diversity cf
opinion have increased. Sometimes such attempts have
partially succeeded for a time, but the reaction in the end
has always been proportioned to such success. The human
mind naturally resists compulsion. Men.in general prefer
to go wrong of their own accord rather than to be com¬
pelled to go any way' at the will of another, who they know
has no rightful authority over them. When you attempt
to force men to believe a doctrine or observe a rite, which
does not approve itself to their own judgment or knowl-
edge, you immediately invite them to inquire into the au¬
thority of the one or the reasonableness of the other ; and
inquiry under such circumstances commonly leads to
n
doubt ; and doubt often terminates in dissent. Such dis»
sent has seldom ended in a mere difference of belief oí
worship. If encroachment and intolerance have led to
resistance and dissent, these in their turn have often
prompted to farther encroachment and multiplied restraints
on the freedom of inquiry and worship. But all will not
do. The thoughts of men will be free. You can place
no restrictions on their inquiries, other than those which
nature herself imposes, which the mind will not sooner or
later break through or transcend. As it is said of an em¬
inent artist, that as yet he has fbund no vessel strong
enough to contain the powerful steam, which his ingenui¬
ty has taught him the means of generating, still more may
it be said of the action of the human mind, that it posses¬
ses in itself an expansive force, which when excited will
surmount every artificial barrier. Such dissent, as we
have remarked, has not terminated in a mere diversity of
opinion or ritual. Encroachments on the one side and re¬
sistance on the other have led to the most violent con¬
tentions and the most vindictive persecutions. Religion,
the last subject about which men should quarrel, has been
the subject about which they have contended longest and
with the greatest fierceness, rancour, and resentment.
Christians, disciples of the Prince of Peace, should be
ashamed of these quarrels. The professors of a religion
of love should live together in love. They should re¬
member that the peace-makers are blessed and shall be
called the children of God. Christianity and angry con¬
tention are as different from each other, as light and dark¬
ness. The passions of the world cry out, "Love your
neighbor ! Hate your enemy !" But there is a better, a
far better authority, a divine voice from the abodes of
universal andunmLxed love, which says, " Love your ene¬
mies; do good to them that hate you ; pray for them.
18
which despitefully use you and persecute you." O ! that
our hearts might drink in these heavenly accents; and that
at the feet of this great teacher of universal charity, we
might sacrifice every selfish, angry, malignant, and re¬
sentful passion and thought !
Now is there any way of adjusting these difficulties ;
silencing these contentions ; extinguishing these fires;—
Are there any terms of peace, reconciliation, and harmo¬
ny without a surrender of conscience ? Most assuredly;
—without any surrender but that of our pride, big¬
otry, and malignity. There is a sovereign, an infallible
remedy; a panacea, which is certain to cure where it is
applied ; but then it is a remedy so simple that many will
disdain it for its simplicity; and so opposed to the corrupt
passions of the unsubdued heart, that they can hardly be
brought to think of it. But what is this great healer of
breaches ; this oil that is to calm the troubled waves; this
olive branch that is to bring peace ; this bow of promise
and kindness, which is to encircle the earth with its mild
and beautiful radiance, and proclaim that the storms are
over ? My friends, the rule is as simple as ths first les¬
son in the book of a child; it is as practicable as it is sim¬
ple ; and it comprehends all the philosophy of social du¬
ty. It is the golden rule of our Saviour. Do to others
as you would have them do to you. Mete to others the
same measure, which you ask for yourself.
Do you ask to be allowed to choose your own religion.'
then allow others to choose theirs. Would you read and
judge of the scriptures for yourself ? let others read and
judge for themselves. Do you claim to be tolerated and
protected in your religion ? protect and tolerate others.
Would you deem it wrong that others should condemn
and persecute you because you differ from them ? Then
19
do not condemn and persecute others, because they differ
from you. Do you in your conceit and arrogance feel
that you have a right, because they differ from you, to
disdain or calumniate or ill-use them This is a very
serious conclusion; and before you come to it, be careful
to determine how much more they differ from you than
you from them.
But you say, as many have said, that you know that
you are right. They are equally sincere and confident
on their part; and if mere confidence and sincerity are to
determine the correctness of our faith and piety, there are
no opinions, and professions, which may not be establish¬
ed. The Mahometans and Hindoos are as ready to die
for their religion as Christians; and Paul was as confident
that he was right, when he was hurrying on to Damascus
breathless with the frenzy of revenge against the disci¬
ples, as when, at the peri) of his own life, he so eloquently
pleaded their cause at the tribunal of the Roman governor.
But then you tell me you have experienced the influ¬
ences of the Divine Spirit; you have been converted by a
miraculous operation ;—you have been visited with light
from Heaven ; and the darkness of error and ignorance,
which overshadowed your mind, has been scattered. It
may be so. I do not question the sincerity of your con¬
victions. I would not speak of them with the slightest
disrespect. But the Quakers, the Swedenborgians, the
Methodists, the Baptists, the Calvinists, the Shakers, and
even the Mormonites, are as confident as you are, that
they also have been the subjects ofthese divine influences;
that light directly from Heaven has been poured upon
their minds ; and that they also have an unerring teacher
within. Now can the operations of the same spirit be so
entirely at variance ? Can the same fountain send forth
at the same time sweet water and bitter ; and is not the
ÍO
fact, to which we here refer, in itself the best of all rea¬
sons, why you should pause ; and regard your own con¬
clusions, however strong, with some distrust; and, above
all, not make them the ground of condemnation or exclu¬
sion or hostility against others.
Again you say there is but one right way. One right
way for what ? Do you mean by this, that there is only
one way of worship, which God will approve ; or one par¬
ticular religious profession or faith by which men can se¬
cure his favor, and be happy in another world ? Sup¬
pose a Quaker should say this; or a Baptist; or a Unita¬
rian? that there is no salvation out of their Church, or
their faith, or their forms. What is the answer to be
made to such a man ; if indeed a mind so narrow is capa¬
ble of comprehending any reasonable answer ? Here
then of the present inhabitants of the world to say noth¬
ing of the countless multitudes, who have already passed
off the stage, three fifths, never heard of the gospel ; of
the other two fifths, who are nominally Christians, more
than one half are Roman Catholics or ofthe Greek Church;
of the remaining fifth, although living in a Christian land,
not one half seem to have any religion ; and of the small
remainder, divided into innumerable sects, how very,
very, very small a portion are either Quakers, or Bap¬
tists, or Unitarians ? Can either of these sects, who are
a mere handful, have the presumption and self-conceit to
believe that Heaven is designed for them only ? Why
there is no sect in Christendom so numerous that it would
make any considerable figure in the immensity of God's
family, or be more than a drop to the ocean. Then too
do they not konw that God is no respecter of persons ?—
Do they not consider that this earth itself is a mere point
in God's universe ? Let them look up to the Heavens in
a clear star-light night. Let them try to count the radi¬
ant worlds that hang over them ; all filled with rational
21
and intelligent beings, who belong to God's family. Let
them remember that what they then behold, all that the
eye can take in, is only an atom compared with thß illim¬
itable creation. Let them consider that beyond all doubt,
there are many worlds and systems of worlds, whose light
though travelling with an inconceivable swiftness, ever
since this globe was created, has not yet reached us; and
then let them suppose, if they can, that the Almighty
Creator, the great Lord and Father of all these beings
and all these worlds, designs to receive to his favor, and
to exclude all others, à few blind, ignorant, and conceited
Quakers, or Baptists, or Unitarians, who have taken it
into their heads, which it would seem were hardly capa¬
ble of containing any thing else, that they are the partic¬
ular and exclusive favorites of Heaven ! Away with such
nonsense Í Away ! Away ! with such narrow, frivolous
conceits, which are not worthy even of the understanding
of a child.
When men tell us that there is but one right way, let
us know what they intend. There is but one way to he
learned, that is by possessing knowledge; but there are a
great many different modes of education by which this
knowledge may be acquired. There is only one way of be¬
ing rich; that is by possessing property ; but there are vari¬
ous ways by which property may be acquired. So there is
only one way to be happy either in this world or another;
that is by being good; but there are various modes to be
adopted in order to form the character to goodness. Take
a large school. Here are a great variety of ages, dispo¬
sitions, talents, characters, and advantages. The great
object of a faithful and enlightened instructer will be to
make his pupils wise and good; but he knows that the
same instruction and the same discipline are not needed
by all, nor adapted to all; but must vary with their differ¬
ent circumstances and characters. There are good men
S3
of all religions, and all times, and all countries. By va¬
rious dispensations, " here a fuller, there a fainter ray,"
here only a twinkling star and there the full-orbed sun of
righteousness, does it please God, whose providence in
its kind embrace comprehends all beings, to train up his
intellectual and moral creation for high and immortal des¬
tinies.
Do not suppose that we undervalue the gospel. Heav¬
en forbid that we should do that. It is the best of God's
gifts to man; and it is one of the greatest of its excellen¬
ces, that it reveals the character of God as the universal
and impartial parent' and friend of all his creatures. But
can you believe that any will be condemned for not living
according to the gospel, who never have seen it; and
whose situation precluded that blessed privilege. The
eyes are the only organs of sight, and light is indispensa¬
ble to their use. Now can we suppose that those unfor¬
tunate beings, who have never beheld the day, or who
were born blind, will be condemned for not seeing. Let
us take care that in our folly or delusion, we do not as¬
cribe principles of conduct to the Supreme Being, which
would dishonor the character of any earthly parent or sov¬
ereign; and stamp it with the grossest injustice.
Do not suppose that we undervalue the truth. We love
the truth; but we love charity far better. When faith
shall be changed into sight, and hope shall triumph in fru¬
ition, then too shall charity live on; finding its native
home in Heaven; occupying its appropriate place at the
head of all the virtues of which our nature is capable,
and constituting the purest source of felicity to the saints
in light. Truth is useful to virtue and favorable to hap¬
piness, but it is not indispensable to either. Men who
are quite ignorant, are oftentimes as good and happy as
others. Great knowledge and great crimes are not unfre-
23
quently associated. Whited sepulchres hide only a mass
of corruption. The devils, according to the scriptures,
are sound in their religious belief; and a true faith and
loud professions, fasting twice in the week, and paying
tithes of all we possess, and thanking God that we are not
as other men, are often no more than the covering of de¬
pravity and hypocrisy.
If a man's faith mends his morals, it is so far valuable;
and we should hesitate long before we attempted to dis¬
turb it. If a man's religion makes him a good man, it is
a good religion for him; and if it makes him a better man
than any other religion would make him, let it be right or
wrong in mere speculation or form, it is the best religion
which he can have. True Christianity is the strictest of
all possible rules oflife. In its principles, motives, sanc¬
tions, sjiirit, and influence, it is beyond every other fa¬
vorable to purity; and suited to form the character to the
highest possible moral excellence of which it is capable.
But how little of it is there in the world; how grossly is
it misunderstood and misrepresented ; and in how many
ways without any ill design is it corrupted and abused.—
Some Mahometans have been better than some Chris¬
tians. Now if converting them to our particular notions
or form of Christianity, would only make them worse men,
injure their temper and their morals, they had better re¬
main Mahometans.
Some men are very good men, good husbands, kind pa¬
rents, faithful friends, obliging neighbors, good citizens,
industrious, honest, temperate, useful men, until as they
term it they " get religion," become converted, and are
born again; and then as it happens in some cases, but by
no means in all, they forsake their employment; neglect
their families; forget the commandment, which says, six
24
days shalt thou labor ; think their own religion safe, and
go about to take care of their neighbors' religion; call
those, who do not believe as they do. Heathen; have the
presumption to tell in public how religious they have be¬
come instead of leaving their works to prove it; and set
themselves up to he the teachers of others, when they
have need themselves to he taught the first principles of
the oracles of truth; and have the impudence to speak
with disdain of being honest and temperate and just and
frugal and industrious and charitable, and contemptuously
pronounce it carnal morality ; and with a Pharisaical
grimace frown upon all the innocent pleasures of child¬
hood and youth, as though it were a mortal sin even for
the lambs in the spring to skip and play; and call all care
of one's personal appearance and the simple and modest
ornaments of youthful beauty and innocence wicked adorn-
ings; as though any thing, which man could do, could
rival the gilded covering even of the insect, whicTi buries
himself in the ground or the splendors of the shell, which
lies at the bottom of the ocean; and as though God ought
to have made this world for the Quakers only and have
had all the skies and all the fields and all the birds and all
the flowers of a drab color; and then certainly their re¬
ligion has made them much worse men than they were
before; and therefore we think for them it is a poor re¬
ligion. If on the other hand being converted and born
again has the effect to change the character for good,
makes the immoral moral, the drunkard sober, the cheat
honest, the idle industrious, the wasteful frugal, the proud
humble, the man a better father, husband, neighbor and
friend; the impious pious, the sabbath-breaker the sab¬
bath-keeper; and the ferocious and selfish a kind forgiv¬
ing, benevolent Christian, loving every body, trying to do
all the good in his power, and wishing to see every man
as happy as he desires to be himself; then his religion is
25
good, let him call himself by what name or join wlu
Church he chooses; for this is'^true Christianity; this
what religion designs to make men; this is the great te
of character, according to the apostle—' Let no man di
ceive you; hethatdoeth righteousness is righteous.'
This is an important subject on which we have no
spoken. May God, the fountain of all intelligence, sav
us from error; and give us more and more of the light i
truth and wisdom. I hope, my friends, I have offende
none by the plainness of my speech. I have designed r
personal reflections. I would not stir up a single ba
passion; nor wantonly give pain to the most humble.-
But here I must be true to my duty ; and I say let th
conscience cf every man perform its office with fearlesi
ness, honesty, and fidelity. I wish all my fellow Chrii
tians and all my fellow men well. I receive the gospi
as a revelation from God. I bow down before the teacl
ings of Jesus as the immediate dictates of a divine insp
ration. I recognise his authority as divine; his precept
as accompanied with the sanctions of eternity; and h
character as a perfect example to the world. But I b(
long to no sect. I abhor the very name of sect, and
believe with the apostle, that ' in every nation he that fea:
eth God and worketh righteousness is accepted with him
May this beautiful structure, built as the united an
harmonious offering of differing opinions and forms on th
common altar of brotherly love, by men calling themselve
by various names but feeling that they are the children <
the same Father and disciples of the same Saviour, b
devoted to the unrestricted exercise of kind affection
and universal charity. May it be the abode of lov
and peace. May the truth of God's word be her
dispensed in its power and glory ; so that many may her
Í6
lie born again; converted from their selfishness and de¬
pravity, their low and worldly passions, to the benevo¬
lence and purity, and to the high and holy aflfections and
views of the blessed gospel. May you here, my friends,
enjoy its heavenly consolations; and cherish the immortal
hopes, for the confirmation of which Jesus poured out his
life, a voluntary sacrifice. May it prove to you no other
than the house of God and the gate of Heaven. When
you meet your fellow men and fellow Christians here, feel
as you must then feel, if it should please God that you
shall meet them in Heaven, where every selfish passion
will be extinguished; and the heart glow only with disin¬
terested and unrestricted kindness. It lifts its modest
tower where soJately the trees of the untouched forest
stood in all their wilderness and majesty ; and marks the
progress of civilization, and of the fulfilment of that bles¬
sed prediction, that the gospel should go forth to the ends
of the earth; the solitary place should be glad, and the
wilderness should blossom like the rose. While it points
its spire to the skies and from its glittering vane reflects
the light of Heaven, may it direct your affections upwards;
and the rays of divine love be reflected from your bosoms.
When this structure, like every thing earthly, shall per¬
ish, may another more beautiful rise out of its ashes. As
long as the trees shall wave upon your mountains and the
grass grow in your fields, may it be consecrated to the pure
and spiritual worship of God. While the flight of time
hurries forward the generations of men to mingle with the
unnumbered dead, as the swift river sweeps through your
valley mocking the power of man to arrest its course, and
is perpetually rushing onwards to the ocean, may others
far better and wiser than we are succeed us; and may
your children and children's children after them from one
Lord's day to another come up here to learn, that he
keepeth the commandments of Jesus is the disciple that
2T
loveth him; and he who doeth the will of God is of the
family of this blessed Saviour; that the Lord our God re-
quireth no more of us than to do justly, to love mercy, and
to walk humbly before him; to love him with all the heart
and soul and mind and strength and our neighbor as our¬
selves; and that, in the reign of universal charity and the
exercise of benevolent affections, we may, in some hum¬
ble measure, on earth anticipate the felicity of Heaven.
MR. FARLEY'S SERMON.
SERMON,
PREACHED AT THE ORDINATION
OF
THE REV. GEORGE W. BRIGGS,
AS MINISTER OF
THE UNITARIAN SOCIETY, FALL RIVER, MASS.
BY FREDERICK A. FARLEY,
MINISTER OF WESTMINSTER CHURCH, PROVIDENCE, R. I.
PUBLISHED BY REQUEST.
FALL RIVER:
SAMUEL L. THAXTER.
1835.
PRINTED BY
KNOWLES & BURROUGHS,
Jicobföcnre.
SERMON.
i. cor. ix. 16.
"for necessity is laid upon me ; yea, wo is unto me
if i preach not the gospel."
The "necessity" of which the apostle here speaks
as being laid upon him, was the miraculous call which
he had received to his office. Not that it was such
a necessity as positively obhged him, despite of all
hazards to engage in the work—for he himself had
declared to Agrippa in his memorable defence before
that monarch, that he " was not disobedient to the
heavenly vision," by which the Divine will had been
announced ; clearly implying that it was in his power
to have disobeyed it ; but so remarkable was the in¬
terposition, so evident the design of God, so impor¬
tant the ends contemplated, that there was an im¬
mense overbalance of motives pressing upon him, and
therefore he could not resist. It was a moral neces¬
sity—the result of certain considerations addressed to
a free moral agent—which he felt. Who had Paul
been 1 The complacent and haughty Pharisee—the
bigotted Jew—the "mad" persecutor of the early
church—the enemy of the cross of Christ, by virtue
of every association connected with his birth, educa¬
tion, kindred, country, religion. In the pursuits of his
hostile designs against the followers of Jesus, he is ar¬
rested by one of the most signal miracles of that mi-
4
raculous age—he is brought to see the true character
of his misplaced zeal for the fancied service of God—
the objects of his wrath are revealed in a new
light—and heaven's own radiance guides him to
the truth. Called thus to he " a chosen vessel un¬
to the Lord Jesus Christ—to bear his name before
the Gentiles, and kings, and the children of Israel,"
what wonder that he should have felt that "necessity
was laid upon him," or that he should have exclaim¬
ed in all the depth of living feeling, " yea, wo is un¬
to me, if I preach not the gospel !"
In a somewhat similar sense, there is a "necessity"
laid upon every minister of Christ at the present
day ; there is an equal necessity that he should preach
the gospel—and there may be an equally strong call
to devote himself to the duty. He cannot, at least,
he will not, have a miraculous call as did the apostle
—the day has past for that ; but he may have, I be¬
lieve I may safely say, he should have an equally
strong and pressing call, a call which he cannot in jus¬
tice to himself, and in view of his accountableness to
God, resist. The young man, who in his love of di¬
vine truth, in his devotion to God and to duty, in his
desire to be useful in spreading the triumphs of that
truth and scattering the blessings of a pure and hea¬
ven-bom religion, feels a longing to engage in this
"work," has a strong, pervading wish to partake of this
ministry, and is ready to devote himself soul and body
to its demands, has a right to feel himself called to it.
It is the best and most solemn call he can have ; to
refuse it, would be to do violence to his better nature,
to withstand the holiest motives, to dishonor his Sav-
5
iour, and to turn a deaf ear to the pleadings of God's
spirit in his soul.
And when he has given himself to the work, and
entered upon its duties, he will perceive more clear¬
ly than ever, the peculiar obligations which it fastens
upon him. He will feel more than ever the "neces¬
sity" which is " laid upon" him. He must " preach
the gospel." Not any system of human philosophy,
but a far sublimer and more spiritual philosophy than
ever sprang from the mind of man. Not any scheme
of worldly morality, but one infinitely purer and more
searching than the world ever knew, before the ad¬
vent of Christ. Not merely nor chiefiy to please the
fancy, or delight the imagination, for the salvation of
souls is too solemn and momentous to admit this.
Not to build up any fabric of scholastic theology, for
the world is too advanced for that, and the religion of
Jesus can hold no sympathies with it. But the plain,
simple, true. Gospel—as "the power of God, and the
wisdom of God"—in all its heighth, and length, and
depth, and breadth—urging it upon the consciences
and hearts of men in all its life-giving energy, and its
wonderful adaptation to human weakness and wants.
He must preach the gospel, not as this or that creed—
but as Christ and the apostles preached it ; he must
preach it as unfolding the plan of redemption for a sin¬
ful world—as addressed to men to make them peni¬
tent, and self-denying, and pious, and benevolent, and
holy. And wo unto him, indeed, if he does not ! Wo
unto him if he forgets the claims of his high oflTice,
and makes it the mere stepping stone to worldly re¬
putation, the mere instrument for securing the pur-
6
poses of a party, or the post of ease and an idle sine¬
cure. Other ways and means there are for these
let not the ministry which holy hands and pure hearts
and the prayers of saints in all ages, have consecrat¬
ed, be thus disgraced.
There may be circumstances in every particular
period of the church, which will operate largely to give
a pecuhar character to the preaching of the gospel,
but there are some which are so constant, every where
and at all times to be met with, that a few general
rules can be laid down which are of universal appli¬
cation. There always have been, and while man con¬
tinues the same frail being that he is, there always
will be, those w^ho are wandering amid error ; and
though acknowledging the divine origin of Christiani¬
ty and clinging to their profession of it, still hold more
or less erroneous views of its doctrines and requisi¬
tions. There are always some who reject it altogeth¬
er, or doubt its authenticity. And multitudes upon
whom it exerts httle or no influence, who live un¬
touched by its appeals, and yield themselves to sin.
The gospel then must be preached agamst error, in¬
fidelity, and sin. To correct, refute, and convert from
these—to inculcate the pure truth—to substantiate its
divine authenticity—and to give it practical power
over the souls of men, are the great ends for which
the gospel is to be preached. The present time, sure¬
ly, is not that, in which fidelity on either of these points
can be dispensed with, in the minister of Christ.
1. And first, in regard to error. The gospel is to
be preached in opposition to error. The gospel m
its purity and simphcity, is to be preached in opposi-
7
tion to its corruptions, which ages have accumulated,
and which countless hosts uphold and defend. The
views which it upholds of the One, Infinite, and all
perfect God—of Jesus, the best beloved, and only be¬
gotten of the Father—of human nature, the duty and
destiny of man—of the present and of the spiritual
world—of present trial and future retribution, are to
be illustrated and urged from the records which Pro¬
vidence has preserved to us, in all their untold grand¬
eur and interest, in opposition to such views of them
as shock the untrained heart, and outrage all just in¬
terpretation of the written word. I do not mean, that
the pulpit should be made a mere arena of controver¬
sy. I do not mean, that the blessed peace of the
Christian Sabbath should be broken in upon at each
of its returns by the war blast of the trumpet, even
though it be to rouse the soldiers of the Cross. I do
not mean, that the preacher should be forever dwell¬
ing upon dogmas, which form a large part of the pop¬
ular theology in a direct attitude of hostility. But I
do mean, that in particular places—perhaps this is
one—and on proper occasions, he should show with
all the directness, force, and ability which he can sum¬
mon to the work, how utterly opposed many of these
dogmas are to the whole tenor and spirit of our Lord's
preaching—of the gospel as it has been transmitted
to us :—and lead his hearers to contemplate in the
boldest relief he can, the true and touching revela¬
tions upon all those subjects therein displayed. He
must do this feehngly, clearly, simply. He must speak
with all that force of persuasion, which his own heart¬
felt conviction of the truths he utters can give him.
8
It must not be with mincing, tripping prettinesses of
style and manner ; but in the strong and nervous
language, and with the frank and manly bearing of
truth. He must do it as no matter-of-course, me¬
chanical business, but with all the freedom and ease
which a deep impression of the importance of his mes¬
sage will impart. His opposition must be seen to be
to error, and not those who sustain it; and to error, not
because it is held by another party in the church, but
because of the difficulties with which it hinders the
progress of the truth, and the injimy it does to a cause
which involves the Divine glory, and human happi¬
ness here and hereafter.
There is one form—a practical form too—which er¬
ror is at the present time accustomed to take, agamst
which it is the special duty of the minister of Christ to
contend. I refer to the unwillingness to understand,
joined with a readiness to denounce, the views of scrip¬
ture truth, which individuals or denominations hold.—
If there be any peculiar glory which belongs to the gos¬
pel, aside of its character of a revelation from G on,—
one however, for which there would be every presump¬
tion in the case of such a revelation—it is the enlarged
charity which it breathes and inculcates, and the de¬
ference, if I may so say, which it pays, to the free mo¬
ral nature of the bemgs to whom it was sent. It bids
us be careful and kind in our judgments of each other
—and utterly prohibits the imputation of bad motives
where the life is pure. It appeals to every human be¬
ing as a reasonable and intelligent being, and offers
itself to his acceptance, fully accrediting his right and
ability to judge for himself. Nowhere does it insist
9
on a uniformity of faith, that baseless impossibility, in
insisting upon which in different ages, some of the best
blood in Christendom has been spilt, and the sweetest
charities of life violated. Nowhere does it threaten
condemnation for mere error of belief, where the light
enjoyed, has been faithfully used to attain the truth.
"The unity of the spirit," the only unity worth striving'
for, it does recognize and urge; and this is consistent
with the greatest diversity of opinion, upon those points
which are disputed among christians. This jealousy of
reading, seeing, hearing—in a word, of understanding,
the views of those who differ from one's self, is a most
unworthy, and unchristian form of error ; and coupled
as I have said with great readiness to denounce those
views and those who hold them, is grossly pernicious
in its practical effects. He who preaches the gospel,
instead of cherishing, should oppose it. No single
point should be dearer in his estimation, than the free¬
dom of thought and mind of those to whom he preaches.
He cannot, if he regards the subject rightly, fear that
the truth will suffer because they correctly understand
the character and demands of error. As well might he
fear that the sun would be obscured, even by ten thou¬
sand mock orbs which man could fashion. No. He
should rather lead his hearers to understand aright the
errors they reject, and hold in love and charity their
brethren who profess them, desiring nothing more sin¬
cerely than to bring together the scattered members of
Christ's body, to co-operate for the success and glory
of the Redeemer's kingdom.
But, let it be remembered why we are ever called
in this ministry which is committed unto us, to con-
2
10
tend against error, and in what spirit we should do it.
We are to do it, not because we believe men cannot be
saved, unless they think just as we do, but because we
believe the truth to be better than falsehood, upon all
subjects, and more especially upon religion; better in it¬
self, better in its consequences, better in its effects up¬
on the character of those who hold it, and more for the
honor of God as well as the good of man. We are to
do it, too, in the spirit of love, rather than opposition ;
not because we love controversy, but because we love
souls ; not to confute, but to enlighten ; not to con¬
quer, but to bless. To these ends let the gospel, the
simple gospel which Christ preached, be preached still
—be preached always, until it stand redeemed from
corruption, and glorious in its original purity.
2. But if the gospel is to be preached in opposition
to error, with a view to correct it, and enlighten and
reclaim the erring, no less is it to be preached in op¬
position to infidelity in whatever shape, and to whatev¬
er degree it appears. The minister of Christ should be
ready at all times to stand forth as the champion and
defender of Christianity. At the present day, especially,
is he bound to do what he may to strengthen the fsuth
of its disciples, by answering the objections which may
be thrown in their way by the active efforts of those
who are doing all they can to undermine it. The cha¬
racter of the infidelity of the present day is rank and
thorough atheism. Christianity, and all that christians
hold sacred, are the themes of its most intemperate
abuse. The future fife, and human responsibleness at
the bar of God, are denied ; and hence it follows, that
there can be no such things as virtue and vice, at least
11
to any practical purposes. It is, indeed, what the in¬
fidelity of former days never was, a complete denial
and rejection of all religion. It cannot be considered
as having anything approaching a code of morals,
beyond a few principles inevitably resulting from our
relations to one another as human beings ; and even
these are left utterly without sanctions. Consequent¬
ly no check remains to the vilest passions, and they are
almost, of course, fostered into a deadlier power and
strength.
Strange that men can be so infatuated as to think
the world would be happier upon such principles. If
aught could make the mysteries of the present state
darker and more disheartening, if aught could create
and perpetuate universal confusion and misery upon
the earth, it would be the universal adoption of these
principles. No God, no Providence, no future state,
no accountableness hereafter, death an eternal sleep
or utter annihilation ! Once let such a belief become
universal, and what tongue could describe the hell on
earth which would follow !
And yet men can not only profess such a belief, but
employ every possible means at their command to in¬
duce others to adopt it. Nothing connected with mod¬
em infidelity is more remarkable, than the proselyting
spirit of its professors. Not content with various pub¬
lications through which they can send far and wide
their pestilential doctrines, their lecturers are going
from place to place, that with the living voice, and ap¬
peals to some of the lowest passions of human nature,
and a fair show of love for the race, they may work
the more efficiently. Aware of the peculiar adapta-
12
tioiî of their principles to the feelings, prejudices and
circumstances of the poorer classes, they affect with
wonderful plausibility, to be laboring for their protec¬
tion and welfare. They are told that they have always
been the victims of priestcraft, and the way is now
open for their deliverance ; that the rich have with¬
held from them the advantages of a good education,
and they advocate an equal education for all ; that the
gospel has been made to them an engine of oppres¬
sion, and infidelity will set them free. By such ap¬
peals, they make converts from the very ranks of those,
who if destitute of Christianity, christian virtue, chris¬
tian principle, and christian hopes, are poor indeed. I
know no greater curse that can befall the poor man,
than to rob him of that self-respect which the gospel
inspires and preserves, by leading him to the practice
of virtue, ■ by exciting within him glorious anticipations
of that future state, into which the outward distinctions
of the present cannot enter.
But, however odious the aspects in which modern
infidelity presents itself, it were to be hoped that
the pulpit might be more true to itself, to its own dig¬
nity, and to its own efficiency, than it sometimes has
been. The reasonings and arguments of unbelievers,
so far as they claim to be such, are not to be met with
scorn, contempt, or anger, or even always to be pass¬
ed by unnoticed. No one who takes any note of the
changes of the world can doubt, that the day has gone
by when such a course can answer the ends intend¬
ed. A scoff is no reply to an argument ; an ebulli¬
tion of passion is more likely to confirm than to remove
an impression ; silence may be taken as a proof of
13
weakness, and inability to contute. Antiquity, num¬
bers, office, authority of any kind, have come to seem
of little weight, when the question regards truth.
There is but one way to establish and confirm that,
which can avail ; and that is by satisfactory argument
and evidence, addressed to the reasoning powers of
those we would convince.
A duty of high and solemn character devolves
upon the minister of Christ in this state of things.
I take for granted that he makes himself familiar with
the evidences of the religion. He is bound to show
unbelievers that his dread and abhorrence is not so
much of them, as of their principles ; that he is inter¬
ested in their welfare ; that he respects their under¬
standings ; that he regards them as men and equals ;
and that his religion prompts all this. Let them state
their difficulties, press their objections, and so long
as they do this in a decent manner, let them be heard
with patience, and considered with candor and re¬
spect. To eye them with suspicion, to treat them
like criminals, to endeavor to frown or force them in¬
to belief, will answer no good purpose. While the
minister of Christ preaches the argument for Chris¬
tianity, let him preach by his example ; let his oppo¬
nents see his religion operating consistently upon his
whole life and conduct with its most beneficent pow¬
er, and he will have added a force to his arguments
which may make them resistless. Unbelievers are
men—the worst of them are still men. They have
the feelings, affections, sensibilities of men—they can
he operated upon, only as you operate upon all other
men. Instead of shrinking from, and avoiding them.
14
we should be ready at all times to exercise the office,
one of the divinest entrusted to any of our race, of
communicating truth for their benefit to the full meas¬
ure of our ability. What joy could surpass that'which
would thrill the heart of him, who by his patience,
and discretion, and persevering and judicious endeav¬
ors, should be the instrument of leading back to his
Father's house only one of these lost and erring chil¬
dren.
I have no distrust of the ability of our religion to
stand unshaken amid the conflict of opinions m the
world, or the rudest shocks of its assailants. I be¬
lieve it to be as firm as the throne of God, that Great
and Good Being, who in mercy sent it to man. I
well know, however, that assertions of belief are of
little value in such a case. The times require some¬
thing else, something better. No. I do not distrust
the power of our holy faith. But when I see the ex¬
ertions making to scatter the seeds of a deadly un¬
belief throughout our land—when I consider the un¬
prepared state of many minds to withstand the trial
—when I think how destructive to all that is good
and valuable on earth, and to all our hopes of heaven
are the principles it avows—when I reflect that such
is its appalling nature that "it wallis forth in its own
darkness, extinguishing the light as it moves," I can¬
not but urge those who are " set for the defence of
the gospel," by all the power of argument they can
command, by their conduct, by their lives, to preach
its beneficence, its divinity, its truth ! Well would it
be for the cause of religion, if christians of every name,
would forget their diflerences and unite in its defence.
15
It would afford most precious consolation amid the
spread of infidelity, if such a union were one of its ef¬
fects. I am anxious, I am fearful, I would have all so,
not for Christianity, but for the young, the ignorant, the
artless, the unwary, lest they become the prey of the
destroyer. No. I do not fear for our religion. God,
who can at all times bring good out of evil, by per¬
mitting to a certain degree the prevalence of infideli¬
ty, is only, I am confident, preparing new and more
glorious triumphs for the gospel, revealing new wea¬
pons, and calling forth the mightiest minds for its de¬
fence. Infidelity too, may be the very means of sep¬
arating the true from the nominal disciples of the Sav¬
iour, by drawing to itself those whose corrupt lives
have been the occasion of much scandal and offence
to the church. But however this may be, an im¬
perative duty rests on the minister of Christ, by every
means in his power to bear testimony to the excel¬
lence and truth of our religion. Let none shrink from
the duty.
3. The gospel is to be preached not only in oppo¬
sition to error, and infidelity—to correct the one, to
convert from the other—but in opposition to sin. It
was first heralded to the world by the Baptist preach¬
ing " Repent !" and the Saviour himself began his
ministry by the same striking appeal. Throughout
it was an errand of mercy to a guilty world, address¬
ing men every where as sinners, and calling upon
them every where to repent. To save sinners, was
over and over again declared to be the grand object
of our Lord's mission. " In this was the love of God
manifested" to his disobedient children. As sinners.
16
men are still to be addressed ; not, however, because
when the gospel was first promulgated, such was the
character of our race; but because in the present im¬
perfect state, in every successive age, surrounded as
mankind are by temptation, liable as they are to fall,
and falling as they actually do, the minister of Christ
still finds them bowed beneath the yoke, and should
come in the spirit of his master to set them free. Were
all men holy—were all who have been bom and bred
under the light of the christian religion, true and con¬
sistent followers of the Son of God—were his spirit¬
ual and beneficent kingdom éstablished in every
heart, the gospel call to repentance were indeed un¬
necessary, and preaching to sinners must of course
cease. But the very character of the religion, formed
as it was in the deep counsels of God, and filled there¬
fore with divine wisdom, shows this will never be the
case on earth. In the strict and uncompromising na¬
ture of its requisitions, in the spotless life of its Found¬
er, in the eternal sanctions of a future world which it
constantly holds up, we perceive that it is designed
to convert men from lives of sin to lives of holiness, and
fit them for heaven. I do not say that there are no
instances of human beings, so blessed by the pecul¬
iar circumstances into which they are thrown by birth,
that every impulse only sends them onward from one
degree of purity to another, " from glory to glory
whose lives know no other moral change but growth;
but the observation of all must convince them, that
such cases are extremely rare. Far more frequent¬
ly, nay, almost always, we cannot but see that the
best influences of birth and education and external
17
circumstances, are more or less slighted or abused ;
and that the best characters are more or less stained
with vice of one or another kind. And from these we
may descend through every grade of corruption, till
we reach the bond slave of sin, in whom the Divine
image is almost utterly defaced, and the moral sense
almost hopelessly deadened. What, I would ask, is
clear, on the subject of ministerial duty, if this be
not—that while men are not to be addressed as de¬
vils, neither are they to be addressed as angels ? that
while every congregation is composed of very various
characters, and the proportions of moral good and evil
are very variously blended, still sin forms a part of
each individual character, and of course to remove it
must be our great end in preaching 7 and that in
preaching the gospel, it should be constantly borne in
mind that Christ Jesus came into the world to save
men, not from the wrath of God, not from hell fire
and the torments of the damned, but from that which
exposes to both, that in fact which of itself kindles a
hell in every bosom which cherishes it, and sooner or
later will bring upon it a wo which no pen can por¬
tray, no tongue describe.
It may be thought that to preach to men as I now
seem to contemplate, would be to make preaching not
sufficiently discriminating, and not sufficiently various.
By no means. Preaching cannot be too discriminat¬
ing ; for without discrimination it would lack force and
point, very essential requisites to its efficiency. It
must be various also ; that is, it must present truth in
various aspects, must reach the various circumstances
and wants of those it addresses, must adapt itself to
3
18
the ever changing condition of the race. It must not
forever dwell on a few trite and hacknied topics of
human duty, nor tread invariably the same dull round
of precept and requisition. Vague ranting about the
horrible enormity and danger of sin, is but a poor
substitute for that skilful analysis of corrupt princi¬
ples and conduct, which in a master's hand will open
a fountain in the flintiest heart, and strike home con¬
viction to the most insensible. He preaches the most
successfully against sin, who hits not only the coarse
and vulgar manifestations of it, as they appear on the
surface of society, or shock every one m notorious
cases of horrible, disgusting depravity ; but he, who
reveals to men, amid all their self-complacency in a
fancied exemption from the charge of sin, a sad de¬
parture in themselves from the straight path of christian
duty, a melancholy coming short of the lofty stand¬
ard of the gospel, poor returns for the rich privileges
they have received, and a large balance of deficiency
in the great account which each must render ; and
who does this so effectually, that the awakened con¬
science will not plead in vain, but will under Gon,
work the rescue. In preachmg against sin also, the
whole range of spiritual themes is thrown open. The
light which the gospel pours upon every topic of eter¬
nal interest to the soul—and none other is worthy of
the pulpit—shows it in its real aspects as those of the
chiefest importance. The mystery of life, the changes
of the world, human duty in all branches, temptation
in all forms, human joys and sorrows, death, and more
than all, immortality and retribution, the spiritual world
and the spiritual state—what gives to these their sol-
19
emn moment but the religious light in which the gos¬
pel clothes them, the connection which it discloses
between the present and the future, the temporal and
the eternal 1 And what, when you probe the whole
to the bottom, is the chief element which constitutes
this solemnity and importance, but the thought that
present sin unrepented of, unforsaken, will mar the
prospect of the future, array it in gloom and terror,
and prepare the soul to enter eternity, self-condemn¬
ed, self-loathing, acknowledging the justice of a pun¬
ishment it had every means of avoiding, but which it
had foolishly, madly braved !
But I need not pursue the subject farther. There
is a "necessity laid upon" every one who devotes him¬
self to the ministry of Christ, to "preach the gospel
to preach the gospel, and nothing else ; to preach it
authoritatively, as the revealed will of God, admit¬
ting of no compromise with human caprices, fash¬
ions, or corrupt modes of thinking ; but standing forth
as the xternal word, Stem in its unfaltering in¬
tegrity, yet merciful and gentle in its spirit as heaven's
own love. Let the minister of Christ preach it as it
fell from the lips of Jesus on the hills of Galilee and
Judea, on the lake whose waters are hallowed by far
more than classic or poetic remembrances, within the
walls of the holy city ; as he preached it amid the
errors of the ignorant, the infidelity of the proud and
the bigotted, the sins of a corrupt age and people.
Let him preach it now, to enlighten and overturn er¬
rors which mar its purity and power ; to convert from
and check an infidelity which is reckless of all that
should be dear to man for time and for eternity ; to
20
save from sin, which in every variety of form and as¬
pect is seducing men from their duty, and destroying
their hopes of heaven. While the world is running
wild after all other kinds of knowledge, wo to the min¬
ister of Christ, if he do not put forth all his powers
that he may lead them to the saving truth ! While all
other kinds of wealth are glittering but to ensnare,
wo to him if he offer not, in all the attractiveness
of its real worth, the priceless treasure, the unspeak¬
able riches of Christ ! While all other kinds of glory
are hanging out their wreaths and crowns to tempt an
ambition, which rightly directed and inspired would
reap a reward in comparison with which all that the
world can give were utterly valueless, utter vanity ;
wo to him, if he raise not his voice, and give not his
strength and his life, to turn them, if possible, to the
true path ; to lead them to the worthy race, that they
may "run, not as uncertainly to the glorious strife,
that they may "fight, not as those that beat the air
that they may "covet earnestly the best gifts," and at
length receive the "crown of righteousness, which the
Lord, the righteous Judge, will give to all that love
him," in the great day of account !
In joining, my brother, with our fathers and breth¬
ren, to introduce you to a share with us in the la¬
bors and duties of this ministry, I should do injustice
to some of the strongest emotions of my heart, did I
not avail of the occasion to testify in a few words to
the deep and affectionate interest which I feel in this
day's transactions, I have too much confidence in
you to doubt, that to the last hour of your life, the
21
thought of the former relations which have subsisted
between us,* and of the influence, which in God's
providence I may have even unconsciously exerted,
to lead you to dedicate yourself to this responsible
work, will be a thought ever full of the purest satis¬
faction. Go forth, my brother, to this holy ministry,
and the blessing of God go with you ! Remember the
" necessity" which is upon you now to " preach the
gospel." And may " the very God of peace sanctify
you wholly ; and your whole spirit, and soul, and body,
be preserved blameless to the coming of our Lord Je¬
sus Christ."
Brethren and friends of this christian society, I re¬
joice with you at the coming of this day. I rejoice
that it was my lot here to break ground with you, and
to cast in the first seed for that spiritual harvest which
I trust is yet to be gathered, full and abundant.t These
are not merely curious, but touching coincidences,
which make this occasion one of peculiar interest to
myself. If their recital is tedious to others, it will not be
to you. I rejoice also, that one who seems so near to
me as your young pastor, has come among you in the
glory of his youth and strength. May it be also in "the
fulness of the blessing of the gospel of peace !" May
God bless and consecrate your union, increase your
numbers, increase your faith, hope and charity ; help
you all to bear living witness to the power of the faith
*Mr. Briggs was a member of the church under the pastoral care of Mr.
Farley, and a teacher in the Sabbath School belonging thereto, previous to
commencing his theological studies.
IThis allusion is to the first Sunday services of the Society, on which oc¬
casion the preacher officiated.
22
you profess ; long continue here to your children and
children's children, the blessings of a pious, fervent,
devoted, christian ministry ; and in the world to come,
bring together pastor and people to form part of that
"great multitude whom no man can number, of all na¬
tions, and kindred, and people," to dwell forever with
God and the Lamb !
Tlie delay in publishing Mr Farley's Sermon was owing to unavoidable
circumstances. The Society, from the first, intended to publish the ser¬
vices of the Ordination and Dedication together ; expecting the church
would be dedicated within a few weeks after the ordination. In this ex¬
pectation they were disappointed ; causes not anticipated, delayed the com¬
pletion of the building, and tlie dedication was of necessity deferred for
several months.
MR. BRIGGS'S SERMON.
A
SERMON,
PREACHED AT THE DEDICATION
OF
THE UNITARIAN CHURCH,
IN
FALL RIVER, MASS. JANUARY 28, 1835.
BY GEORGE W. BRIGGS,
MINISTER OF THE SOCIETY.
PUBLISHED BY REQUEST.
FALL RIVER;
SAMUEL L. THAXTER.
1835.
SERMON.
i. thess. iv. 7.
" god hath called us unto holiness."
We have dedicated this building in solemn prayer
to the great purposes of religious worship and religious
instruction. It is an act, which is not indeed demand¬
ed by any precept of our religion, but it is a natural
and appropriate service. Our feelings tell us that it
is proper, when we have completed a temple for re¬
ligious uses, publicly and solemnly to devote it to its
great design. We do not suppose that any peculiar
sacredness has been conferred upon these walls, or
that worship will be peculiarly acceptable when offer¬
ed here. The universe is the temple of the Father of
our spirits ; his presence is every where manifested.
And the fervent devotion of a humble and contrite
heart, no matter upon which of the thousand altars that
he has erected to declare his presence and glory it
may be laid, will ascend to his throne, and bring upon
us rich returns of heavenly blessings.
Still, though the all-pervading spirit may be accept¬
ably worshipped in every place, though no peculiar sa¬
credness belongs to buildings consecrated to his ser¬
vice, yet there are associations connected with the
house of worship which assist in kindling the flame of
devotion, and in raising the soul into communion with
28
its Infinite Original. These are not superstitious emo¬
tions ; they are called forth by the constitution of our
minds. And such associations may aid in strengthen¬
ing our piety, so that it may become an ever active
feeling. We have erected this temple for the worship
of God, and by this act of dedication we would strive
so strongly to express the purpose of its erection, that
it shall make an enduring impression on our minds ;
so to express its purpose, that whenever we enter it,
or whenever it meets the eye, the mind will at once
recur to the object of its erection, and be admonished
to refiect and adore. We would express its design so
solemnly, that to our minds a hand may seem to be
stretched forth from this house, to point to the throne
of God ; and an audible voice seem to issue from it,
which shall be heard in the depths of our spirits, to re¬
mind us of our duty and our destiny. We would so
strongly express its design, that this shall indeed be
to us " none other than the house of God, the gate of
heaven."
We have dedicated this building, as we have said,
not only to the great purpose of religious worship, but
to that of religious instruction. Here may the princi¬
ples of the religion of Jesus be explained and enforc¬
ed. But the question will be immediately asked of us
at the present day, when doctrinal opinions are deem¬
ed so important. What do you believe to be the prin¬
ciples of the religion of Jesus'?
We bear the different appellations of Unitarians,
Liberal Christians, Rational Christians. But so much
have our opinions been misunderstood, or rather, so
little have they been examined, that few have any
29
clear conceptions of what those who bear these
names believe. The cry of heresy has been raised
against us. It has been echoed from place to place,
and responded to by the mass of the community. But
few of those who joined in that cry, really knew what
they were condemning. The phrases, Unitarianism,
Liberal Christianity, Rational Christianity, conjured up
at once a fearful shape ; its particular form and fea¬
tures were not discerned ; all was shadowy and dark.
And as imagination most readily calls up fearful appa¬
ritions when in darkness, so here it has sometimes
brought together whatever was hideous and frightful,
and called that Unitarianism. We wish that our breth¬
ren who are fellow disciples with us of that religion,
whose essence is love, and whose brightest grace is'
charity, had examined our opinions more thoroughly
before they ventured to condemn. We did expect a
full and impartial hearing.
We are called Unitarians. The strict import of this
word is plain ; it denotes those who believe in the un¬
qualified unity of God ; those who believe in only one
Supreme Being, or Person, to whom worship and hom¬
age are due. This is the proper import of the term,
though in its common acceptation it has a much wider
signification.
We are called Liberal Christians. This phrase has
been much misunderstood. We are not liberal, in the
perverted sense that has been given to the term ; that
is, loose, licentious. But we wish to be liberal in the
true, noble acceptation of the term ; in acknowledging
all as rightfully bearing the christian name, who pro¬
fess themselves the disciples of Jesus ; in granting to
30
them the same privileges we claim for ourselves, and
in extending to them the hand of christian fellowship ;
in not thinking that all truth is contained withm the
limits of our own denomination, but in welcoming it
wherever it may be found ; in remembering our own
fallibility, and in contending, not that belief in our own
particular opinions, but that bearing the image of Je¬
sus, is the condition of salvation. This seems to us true
christian liberality ; and we would strive and pray that
we may possess it, so that we may be worthy to bear
the name of Liberal Christians.
We are called Rational Christians. And here again,
we have been much misunderstood ; and some have
almost concluded that we rejected revelation and trust¬
ed only to reason ; or that we exalted reason above
revelation. We believe that Christianity was designed
to elevate the intellectual as well as the moral nature
of man ; that it was addressed to our reason, and must
be interpreted by it. We believe that it harmonizes
with reason, that it gives wider and more glorious views
indeed, than unaided reason could deduce from reve¬
lation ; but that all these views are in accordance with
the sound dictates of the understanding. Christiani¬
ty was not sent to dethrone man's reason, but to exalt
itto pour light upon its darkness, and free it from
its perplexities. We see truths in revelation, which
we do not fully comprehend ; but we see nothing con¬
tradictory, or irrational. Those doctrines, that have
been termed so, and appear to us so, we do not find
there. Nature, reason, providence and revelation, all
speak in harmonious voices. In this view, it is, that
we are Rational Christians.
31
Thus much for the import of the names we bear.
Do not let it be supposed, that we are anxious to bear
a particular name, or that we are pledged to support
a particular set of opinions. We cherish most dear¬
ly and guard most sacredly the right of private judg¬
ment. We have no leaders to whom we bow. There
is no drilling among us to make every man respond
to a particular form of belief. We believe there can¬
not be a complete uniformity of opinion. Reason tells
us so ; history and experience prove it. All attempts
to produce it, have resulted in division and discord.
Jesus did not design it. He only designed that all
should be joined in the unity of the spirit and the bond
of peace. Where the mind is left free and encouraged
to enquire, there will inevitably be differences of opin¬
ion; and therefore, there are among Unitarians, many
differences in opinion in respect to speculative opinion.
Christianity seems to us a glorious, boundless science;
and where it is studied freely, there wiU be all grada¬
tions of advancement, from him who has merely learn¬
ed the alphabet of religious knowledge, to him who
has given a life to its investigation. We dare not bring
together the amount of knowledge already acquired,
reduce it to a creed, and say, here is the sum of relig¬
ious truth ; we would ever seek and pray for greater
light.
Still, there are some opinions, which Unitarians hold
in common, and which they unitedly advocate. One
of these opinions has been already referred to, in con¬
sidering the import of the term Unitarian. I mean
the doctrine of the unqualified unity of God ; that
there is one Being, who is unequalled, unrivalled, su-
32
preme. We believe, that in his nature, he is love ;
and we suppose that the appellation by which Jesus
addressed him, is the best description of his charac¬
ter. He is the Infinite Father ; his boundless love
called us into existence, and bestowed upon us pow¬
ers and capacities for improvement, for the full use of
which we are accountable to him. That same love
sent his Son to declare his character, to reveal his
will, to unfold our diity and our destiny ; and to do
every thing by his life, example, death and resurrec¬
tion, that could influence fi^ee moral agents to seek for
holiness, in order that they might attain everlasting
happiness. That same love has invited every man to
attain this salvation, and given to aU the means of ob-
tainmg it ; so that no one will be saved, except upon
condition of his own earnest exertions ; and no one
will be lost, except by his own fault. That same love
has prescribed repentance and reformation, as the con¬
ditions of obtaining forgiveness, and holiness as the
procuring cause of the divine acceptance. We be¬
lieve, that in proportion as we are holy or sinful, in
that proportion we shall be happy or miserable in the
future world ; that is, that we shall be rewarded ac¬
cording to the deeds done in the body, whether they
are good or evil. We believe, that every thing com-
eth from God, and is his gift ; and that, therefore, we
are saved by his boundless grace ; that grace which
gave our capacities for improvement, which remem¬
bers our infirmities, and bestows all needful assis¬
tance.
In still briefer terms, we believe in one God, the
Creator and Father of all ; that Jesus Christ was sent
33
to declare and seal his will ; and that through Jesus,
all who believe and obey, will obtain salvation ; that
we are dependent upon God for every gift, yet en¬
tirely free to use or abuse those gifts, and strictly ac¬
countable for their proper use ; and that we are des¬
tined to another state of being where we shall be hap¬
py or miserable, according to the deeds done in the
body. These are our common principles. These
truths seem to us, to stand out in living colors upon
the pages of revelation ; these are held by Unitarian
Christians, and of course, we reject all those doctrines
which appear to us to oppose these great, central, all-
important religious truths.
Any opinion which clashes with the great truth that
God is one ; any doctrine which destroys or impairs
man's freedom and ability, and by consequence, his
accountableness, any doctrine which substitutes any
other condition of obtaining forgiveness, than repen¬
tance and reformation ; or any other condition of ob¬
taining salvation, through the mercy of God, than obe¬
dience and holiness ; any doctrine that limits, in any
degree, the impartial love of God, we reject. We be¬
lieve the doctrines we have stated ; but those which
seem to contradict them, we do not find in revelation,
and therefore we reject them.
There may be, and there probably are, speculative
opinions, besides those that have been named, which
are held or rejected by Unitarian Christians. I have
stated our great central principles, and in stating them
have stated truths that are comprised or recognized
in the creeds of almost all believers. We do not ad¬
vance peculiar opinions ; we stand on what is the
5
34
common ground of all denominations of christians.
Others depart from us, not so much in denying the
truths that have been named, as in modifying and add¬
ing to them. All christians, for instance, believe that
there is one God ; but some make additions to this
doctrine, which seem to us to clash with the truth of
the divine unity. All christians believe in man's free¬
dom and ability ; but some couple with this doctrine
other opinions, which seem to us to deny it. I might
go on and illustrate this position, in respect to all the
Opinions that have been named. Unitarianism em¬
braces opinions which believers in all ages, and of al¬
most every creed, have found in the gospel, and in¬
sists upon them as the great principles of Christianity ;
and therefore, the inference is surely sound, that it is
a scriptural system. He who denounces us as hold¬
ing an unscriptural system, uses unwarrantable lan¬
guage. He cannot of course, mean that the doctrines
we believe, are not taught in revelation. These doc¬
trines have been found in it by believers in all ages.
He can only mean that we do not discern in revela¬
tion all that he supposes can be found there. Uni¬
tarianism seems to us to comprise the pure, simple,
unadulterated truths of the gospel ; those truths which
constitute the true spiritual temple, built on the true
foundation, Jesus Christ. We would take away the
scaffolding that men have raised around it, and let it
shine forth in all its own celestial brightness.
There is one great excellence of Unitarianism which
I wish briefly to dwell upon at the present time ; and
this I wish to do, not merely because it is important
in itself, but because it answers a charge often brought
35
against Unitarianism. We are told that Unitarianism
is a loose, licentious system. On the contrary, we
maintain—and we hold it to be a great glory if it be
true—that Unitarianism is eminently a practical sys¬
tem, that it is peculiarly calculated to produce hohness.
God, in the gospel of his Son, has called us unto holi¬
ness. The design of Christianity is to purify us from
sin, and to lead us to become holy ; and we believe
that Unitarianism is calculated to accomplish this, the
great end of the gospel.
This may be illustrated in various ways. Unitari¬
anism is calculated to lead us to holiness, on account
of the importance it attaches to the practical princi¬
ples of the gospel. It throws no obstacle in the way
of their efficacy ; it states the undeniable truth that
the great object of Jesus was to lead men to holiness.
And the necessary inference is, that those truths which
bear directly upon the conscience, which address
themselves to the heart, which concern the character,
must be the great and fundamental truths of the gos¬
pel. It declares that duty is the end of doctrine, and
it measures the importance of different doctrines by
their practical tendency. It does not consider ab¬
struse speculations concerning the nature of the Deity,
or the mode of his existence, or any of those dark,
metaphysical questions, which have so perplexed the¬
ologians and distracted the church, as of great im¬
portance to us. Men can never settle them while in
this world ; and if they could, we can hardly see their
practical bearing. Unitarianism will not admit for an
instant, that such truths are fundamental truths, or
that belief in them is all-essential. It will not suffer
36
the mind to be taken away from those plain and sim¬
ple truths that concern our duty here, and our desti¬
ny hereafter. The great question every one should
ask, is, "What must I do to be saved ?" Jesus an¬
swers, "Believe in and obey my commandments."
Those truths which go directly to the conscience and
the heart, the practical truths of the gospel, are its fun¬
damental truths. It is such truths as these, which
through the blessing of God, can accomplish within
us the great purpose of the gospel. It is such truths
as these, which can form us in the image of Jesus. It
is a vivid faith in and obedience to these truths, that
can make us truly holy ; and not a persuasion, how¬
ever strong, of the correctness of the metaphysical
dogmas of this or that sect.
We look into the gospel, and we find that these
practical truths are the great topics which Jesus is
ever enforcing. They form the sum, the substance
of his-teaching. He is constantly reiterating them in
every possible form, and with every variety of illus¬
tration ; and whoever obeyed them, he declared,
should dwell in the Father, and the Father in him.
And higher glory cannot be ours.
The practical truths of the gospel, then, are its soul-
purifying, soul-savmg truths. It must be the same
discipline essentially, that prepares every good mind
for heaven. Men may worship the Father in widely
different ways—at Jerusalem, or on Mount Gerizim.
They may hold widely different creeds, and con¬
tend ever so strenuously for their peculiar tenets, but
they are prepared for happiness in the same way ;
not by disputing about theological dogmas, but by
37
subjecting their dispositions, powers, faculties, to the
government of the plain, practical principles of the gos¬
pel ; by fearing and loving God, and working right¬
eousness ; by acquiring the spirit of Jesus. There
is no other way in which happiness can be gained.
These practical principles, if received into the mind
and heart, can purify them from all that is unholy, and
prepare the soul to become the temple of the One-
living and the True.
It is a great excellence of Unitarianism,that it throws
no obstacle in the way of the efficacy of these all-
important truths ; it assigns them their proper rank ;
it terms them primary truths, fundamental truths.
When it speaks of religion, it refers to the spirit of Je¬
sus, and not to a peculiar set of disputed dogmas.
When it strives to image Christianity to the mind, it
points to the Saviour, in whose character we may
learn the truth and read our duty, and whom to imi¬
tate is everlasting joy ; and not to the cold specula¬
tions of an abstruse creed. It insists that the great
design of Christianity is to train us up in the image of
Jesus ; and it esteems truths in proportion to their di¬
rect bearing upon the character, their tendency to
produce holiness. It leaves the region of cloud and
mist, and goes into the perfect day, where Jesus, the
moral Sun, is shining in unclouded brightness ; and it
says. Let the light of that Sun rise upon the soul, for
to know the Saviour, is life eternal.
Again. Unitarianism is calculated to lead to holi¬
ness, because it is pre-eminently fitted to engage the
mind and heart in the service of religion.
Unitarianism is an intelligible system. We believe
38
that religion is addressed to men's understandings, and
contains nothing contradictory to reason. We see
doctrines and truths that we do not fully comprehend;
but we see no mysteries in the popular sense, that is,
unintelligible and contradictory opinions, at which,
in the words of another, "Reason stands aghast." We
esteem this to be a great excellence. The heart will
not give itself completely to the service of religion,
unless the mind is fully convinced. A blind awe may
be excited in some minds by that which is unintelli¬
gible. Some may be brought to bow with a palsying
fear before that which is irrational. There may be a
warm feeling about religion when the understanding
does not give its assent ; but there cannot be a true,
deep, ever-abiding, soul-exalting, rehgious feeling.
The passions are changeable. An enduring, solid re¬
ligious character can only be based on the sound con¬
victions of the understanding. The mind, as well as
the feelings, must be engaged. As far as the under¬
standing is prostrated, so far the only sound founda¬
tion is impaired. When the understanding is convinc¬
ed, we have that firm principle around which, if there
is an object to call them forth, the religious affections
may cluster in all their luxuriance and loveliness,
without danger of being torn and lacerated by doubts.
We must have a faith which shall not be shaken
when the glow of feeling subsides, controlling us
only when the tide of feeling bears away the reason
and the judgment, but trembling before the ex¬
aminations of cool, unbiased reflection. We want a
faith which shall grow clearer and brighter in every
season of contemplation ; a religion, which reason,
39
the noblest faculty of the soul, feels to be worthy of
the Infinite mind to give, and before which it is com¬
pelled to bow as to the voice of eternal truth. If rea¬
son, whenever it is consulted, utters its approving voice,
the heart can be given to the service of religion with¬
out restraint. There will be nothing to check the feel¬
ings ; and they will flow on, not in a tumult of emo¬
tion, which now rages with violence, and then dies
away, but in a steady, deep, resistless current.
Unitarianism is such a faith ; may I not say it is
confessedly such a faith 7 And thus it can establish
the only true, solid foundation of a religious character.
Unitarianism can engage the mind in the service
of religion. Can it sway the heart 7 Oh yes. The
views which it gives of the character of God, are pe¬
culiarly adapted to awaken fervent, pious emotions.
It represents him, indeed, as perfectly holy ; as one,
before whose presence sin cannot appear ; who has
placed us in this scene of probation, and by whose
righteous laws we shall be happy or miserable in a fu¬
ture world, according as we are holy or sinful here.
We must bow before such a being with reverence, as
all-just and all-holy. But there are other views of his
character, which touch every chord of generous feeling.
Although exalted above all that human imagination
can conceive, still he regardeth every creature of his
hand, with an infinite compassion. He is our Father ;
Jesus represents him so. There are feelings, which
that word excites when applied to human relations,
that language cannot portray. When apphed to the
God over all, who can tell the emotions it is calculat¬
ed to awaken 7 We do not see a stern ruler, who has
40
ever regarded man with an eye of wrath ; but we see
an infinitely wise and kind Parent. We see impartial,
universal, boundless goodness ever exerted to bless.
A Father's love created us, and has bestowed innu-
• merable privileges and blessings. A Father's love
sent the Saviour of men, to teach, warn, redeem us.
We are under a Father's care; parental love, wise
and deep, beams all around us ; every dispensation is
from a Father's hand. Language faüs. We cannot
describe the character of God as Unitarianism repre¬
sents it. It is for the heart to feel it in its unutterable
emotions. And we are sure, that if we could but feel
in our hearts the character of God, as Unitarians re¬
gard it ; could we but catch a glimpse of the univer¬
sal, boundless goodness and mercy of God ; could we
with the eye of faith, see the Infinite Father smiling
upon us ; could we really hear in our souls, that voice
of unspeakable love, with which he is ever addressing
us and calling us his children, yes, the children of the
Infinite Spirit ; could we but feel this, our hearts would
be filled with irrepressible emotions. Every affection—
love, trust, gratitude, piety, would spring up and cen¬
tre around the object of our worship, and breathe in
an ever-increasing strength and vigor.
It has been sometimes said, that Unitarians cannot
love Jesus. O how sadly were they mistaken, who
have said so. We do not, indeed, rob the Father of
his lovelier attributes, in order to throw them around
the Son ; but we regard Jesus as the medium of salva¬
tion to all believers ; as the being through whom came
the light of truth, the offers of pardon, and the hopes
of eternal life. We feel that he came to labor, and
41
toil, and die, that he might excite us to flee from sin
and seek for holiness. We regard him as the image
of the excellence of God ; as the personification of his
infinite benevolence. We see in him every quality
that can excite our gratitude and love. Yes, we can
and must love the Saviour. We love him for what he
has done and suffered for us ; we love him as the mo¬
del of excellence, the representation of every thing
lovely ; we love him as our dearest friend, our great¬
est benefactor.
And this love to God and love to Jesus, we believe
to be most truly manifested, by striving to imitate their
love to man. We suppose the soul of Christianity to
be a generous benevolence, a pure philanthropy, a phi¬
lanthropy like that of Jesus ; which lifts itself above
all dividing lines that men have drawn, which regards
all men, whatever may be their nation, tribe, language,
with a brother's eye and a brother's heart.
Such is the influence which Unitarianism aims to ex¬
ert over the affections. If it can thus control the mind,
and win the heart to love God, the Saviour, all man¬
kind, will it not produce holiness ? If the mind be thus
convinced, and the heart fully engaged, will not the
life be obedient 1 If the fountains are ever sending forth
clear, refreshing waters, will not the streams be pure ?
I wish to illustrate the practical tendency of Unita¬
rianism still further, by naming some of its principles
and doctrines that are peculiarly calculated to arouse
the soul to exertion, and to lead it to seek after inward
purity.
One of these principles is the doctrine of man's abil¬
ity. We find this doctrine clearly taught. Man pos-
6
42
ses ses powers and faculties by which he can train up
his soul in the image of his Master. He has power
to develope within his heart a pure and lofty virtue.
Means of improvement are abundantly given ; the light
of truth beams all around him ; the gracious influences
of his Father will hless him. There is also given him
the fearful power, by which he can cultivate and devel¬
ope his nobler capacities, or by which, being abused, he
can grave upon his soul the deep traces of sin.
Revelation assures of this. We find there, exhor¬
tations, entreaties, remonstrances ; we find promises
of reward, and threats of punishment ; we find men
called upon to hear and obey, to turn to the Lord, to
repent, believe, reform. Why are we thus treated, if
we have no ability 1 Why exhorted and remonstrat¬
ed with? Why called worthy of praise or blame? Such
calls are mere mockeries, if man has no power. The
gospel was sent to aid men, to warn them, to point to
the way which they must take to attain everlasting life.
Was this gospel addressed to beings who have no pow¬
er? No. Man has ability ; scripture proves it—reason
confirms it. He has ability, glorious powers, powers
by which he can carry himself onward forever in a
progress towards higher and higher excellence. Hu¬
man nature has low propensities indeed ; propensities
miserably low. But it has powers which it can place
upon the throne within the heart, and which can carry
it upward and onward forever. We rejoice in this
doctrine of man's ability. These powers are not in¬
dependent powers. No. They are all the gift of the
Infinite Father. Belief in their existence does not tend
to develope pride, and make us forget our dependence
43
upon the Giver of all good. Oh, no. It only makes
us bow in deeper gratitude for his transcendent good¬
ness, and in more overwhelming shame that we can
ever sacrifice them to the debasing, brutish indulgen¬
ces of appetite and sense.
We state this doctrine strongly; we believe we
should. We see in the soul the elements of those
powers, which existing in unclouded perfection, make
up the character of the Infinite One. We believe that
there is a divine spark within, which man has power
to foster and cherish and kindle into a flame, which
shall bless the soul beyond all that imagination hath
conceived. The glory of the gospel is, that it is de¬
signed to quicken and aid us in this lofty work. We
do not say, that man must wait for an irresistible in¬
fluence to impel him in the path oí duty. We say
that he possesses the power, and can begin the work
at any moment ; and that unless he begins it, it will
never be begun. We do not deny that there are in¬
fluences from above to aid him. We rejoice in be¬
lieving that there are. But we say, that man must
spread the sail, or he never will catch the favoring
breeze of heaven.
This doctrine seems to us calculated to lead to ho¬
liness. Could we realize our power ; could we give
the wings to faith and catch even a faint vision of the
glory God has given us ability to obtain, we should
feel a glow of enthusiastic admiration and desire, that
would urge us to commence the heavenly race, and
inspire us with an all-conquering resolution.
And this brings us to another principle of Unitarian-
ism, which has a powerful practical tendency ; I mean
44
the doctrine of accountableness. We believe that this
ability, of which we have spoken, is the measure of
duty ; that we possess these noble powers and are
strictly accountable for their full improvement. Would
that I could present this topic in all its fearful extent.
Every power of the soul, every capacity for improve¬
ment, every susceptibility to virtue, every privilege and
opportunity, every means of advancement, every bless¬
ing of heaven, every moment of existence, we believe
to be a talent ; and all are to be used for our own and
other's good. And for their use we are accountable.
Accountability presses upon us equally m every scene ;
upon all men equally, according to the measure of their
utmost ability. It extends alike to the church and to
the daily walk ; to the scenes of business or of relax¬
ation ; to society and the privacy of home ; to every
situation, and every moment. It tells us, that accord¬
ing as we use these privileges, will be our happiness
or our misery. As we sow, so shall we reap, is the
language we inculcate ; and we would inculcate this
lesson so strongly, that it shall be felt in the deepest
recesses of the heart ; so that we should not more
surely be upheld by the supporting power of God at
every moment, than we should be governed by this
appalling truth. In proportion to the vividness with
which this doctrine is felt, in that proportion will it go
to the conscience, armed with the most solemn mo¬
tives that can act upon the immortal soul ; in that pro¬
portion would it make conscience at every instant ut¬
ter the approval or condemnation of the Master to those
servants who had improved or neglected their talents.
Our views of man's ability and accountableness are
45
most strict and solemn. We can imagine none more
so. We can imagine none more adapted to inspire
and arouse us to give our utmost energies, our most
devoted exertions to the great work that has been
given us to do. And we are sure that if they were
deeply felt, the whole life would be devoted to efforts
after inward purity.
Another doctrine of Unitarianism peculiarly adapted
to produce holiness, is that concerning the nature and
conditions of salvation.
We do not conceive salvation'to be a deliverance
from punishment, but a deliverance from sin. We see
it clearly taught that this was the great purpose for
which Jesus came, to deliver man from sin ; to save
him from the bondage of degrading appetites and pas¬
sions, and to give him an inward power and vigor that
can enable him to control every unworthy feeling and
desire. We see that the design of Jesus was to pro¬
duce holiness ; and we believe this to be salvation.
Not merely the means of obtaining it—but salvation,
happiness, heaven. Salvation ! it is the spirit of Jesus.
Could I picture his mind before you ; could I deline¬
ate his spotless excellence ; could I trace in living col¬
ors, him who is the perfect pattern, who reflected the
character of the all-perfect One ; could I bring him
before you in all his glorious brightness, I could show
what we mean by salvation. We believe that we gain
no good from Jesus, any farther than we acquire his
spirit. We do not believe that Jesus was sent to be
one on whom we might passively lean, but to quicken
and excite our own energies. All trust in him is un¬
availing, except so far as it enables us bear his like-
46
ness. Faith in him is valueless, except it tends to
purity of heart.
Guilt is a personal attribute ; evil habits cannot be
transfeiTed to another. Neither can the misery, which
is their inevitable result, be transferred to another.
They cannot be removed except by our own earnest
exertions, assisted by the blessing of God. Salvation
is freedom from sin ; heaven is the purification and
exaltation of the mind. In proportion as we are free
from sin, in proportion as we have attained a pure and
lofty virtue, in that proportion are we saved, and no
further. We do not believe that the soul can be
thoroughly regenerated, raised to its truest exaltation,
prepared for perfect happiness, in a few brief mo¬
ments. We do not believe, after a life spent in sin,
one convulsive bound will carry us to the lofty height
of virtue. We do not believe, that a few agonizing
efforts will roll back the current of evil habits which
has been growing deeper and stronger for years. The
work of moral culture may be begun at any moment,
and God will graciously aid and smile upon the begin¬
ning. But the beginning is not the completion. He
that would be fully saved, he that would attain the
greatest exaltation of which his nature is susceptible,
must use every opportunity, improve every privilege.
The obligation presses equally upon the aged and
venerable servant of God, and upon him who has just
commenced the heavenward race. Improve every
privilege, opportunity, moment, if you would attain the
greatest degree of happiness for which you were cre¬
ated.
Does any one say, this is advancing the doctrine
47
that we depend upon our own works, and not upon
the free grace of God, for salvation 1 Oh no ! God
gives the capacity, the means ; and his supporting
power is ever necessary to enable us to improve that
capacity, and use those means. Every thing is the
gift of his boundless love. He has inseparably con¬
nected holiness and happiness together ; the connec¬
tion is that of cause and effect. He is infinitely hap¬
py, because he is infinitely holy. AU moral agents are
happy in proportion to their hoUness ; and therefore,
we shaU be saved, be happy hereafter, only in propor¬
tion to our holiness.
Can any doctrine have a more direct practical ten¬
dency than this 1 It smiles not upon negligence ; it
gives no excuse for delay. But it urges us by all our
hopes of heaven, to make the moral culture of our
hearts the one great object of our lives. It imges us
to give every power and every energy to the same
great service. And could we feel it, it would inspire
us through fife, through eternity, to wing our flight up¬
ward towards loftier heights of exceUence, with an
ever increasing energy, with an ever accelerated speed.
Such are some of the views held by Unitarians,
which appear to us to have a peculiarly practical ten¬
dency. Unitarianism points to the practical truths of
Christianity as its all-important, fundamental truths.
It can control the mind and sway the heart ; it insists
in the strongest terms upon the doctrine of man's abil¬
ity, and declares that he is strictly accountable for the
use of every power. It teaches that holiness is sal¬
vation, and that only in proportion as we gain it, are
we prepared for happiness.
4S
Unitarianism is calculated to lead to holiness. It
goes to the sinner, and urges him by the unutterable
love of God, by the labors, toils, cross of Jesus, to
give his heart to the service of the gospel. It tells
him that in exciting unholy passions within his breast,
he is kindling a fire that cannot be quenched till his
soul is regenerated by the purifying influences of
truth. It tells him that virtue, holiness alone, can
open within, the fountains of everlasting joy. It calls
upon him, by all his fears of wo, and all his desires
for happiness, to seek the true exaltation of his be¬
ing. It declares to all men, that they possess pow¬
ers for an indefinite advancement, for an eternal
progress in excellence. It urges them by the mighti¬
est, the loftiest motives that can be presented to a
moral agent, to be ever developing these glorious
powers.
We prize Unitarianism because we believe it to be
a scriptural, rational, practical system. Our minds and
hearts approve it; we believe it to be the truth of God;
and we devoutly pray that our lives may bear wit¬
ness to its power. We feel it to be a precious treas¬
ure, and we desire that others may share it with us.
We feel bound to advocate it ; neither denunciation
nor reproaches can move us. But we will not advo¬
cate it in bitterness. God forbid ! We will ever with
our whole hearts, extend the hand of fellowship to all
believers, and implore them to receive it. And if it
is not received, words of reproach shall never escape
our lips. Though severed here, if faithful to our
Master, we shall be united above. We will still go
on advocating those truths which we believe will
49
bring on the dawning of a brighter day to the church,
restore Christianity to its original simplicity, recom¬
mend it to the minds and hearts of many who doubt,
and become the power of God unto salvation.
We dedicate this building again, to the One Living
and True God, and to the teaching of the religion of
Jesus, his Son, our Redeemer. My brethren, this
temple will soon decay. There is a temple of God,
over which time can have no power—the soul of man.
We have erected this material temple, only to aid us
in building up and purifying that Spiritual Temple—
the immortal soul. Guard it most sacredly from pol¬
lution ; let not the characters of sin be traced upon its
walls ; erect within it but one altar, and upon that let
the sacred flame of devotion be everburning. Puri¬
fy that Spiritual Temple, and the spirit of God shall
descend and dwell within it forever.
A
DISCOURSE
delivered at the
DEDICATION
of the
\]ïi\taï\aTa. CongregaVionaY C\i\ire\\
in
NEWPORT, RHODE ISLAND, JULY 27,1836.
BY WILLIAM ELLERT CHANNING.
BOSTON :
PRINTED AND PUBLISHED BY S. N. DICKINSON,
53, Washm^on Street.
1836.
Entered, according to an Act of Congress, in the year 1836, by
Samuel N. Dickinson,
in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of Massachusetts.
Many passages of the discourse are now published which were
omitted in the delivery for want of time and strength.
John i v. 23, 24. The hour cometh and now is, when
the true worshippers shall ivorship the Father in spirit
and in truth, for the Father seeketh such to worship
him. God is a spirit, and they that worship him
must worship him in spirit and in truth.
The dedication of an edifice to the worship of God
is a proper subject of gratitude and joy. Even if the
consecration be made by Christians, from whom we
differ in opinion, we should still find satisfaction in the
service. We should desire that our neighbours, whose
convictions of truth and duty require them to separate
from us in religious services, should enjoy the same ac¬
commodations with ourselves ; and it should comfort
us to think, that Christianity is so eminently " the
power of God unto salvation," its great truths so plain
and so quickening, that among all sects acknowledging
Christ and consulting his word, its purifying influences,
however counteracted by erroneous views, will more or
less be felt. We should rejoice to think, that God can
be monopolised by no party, that his spirit is a univer¬
sal presence, that religion, having its root in the soul of
man, can live and flourish amidst many errors, that
truth and goodness can no more be confined to a single
church, than the light of the sun can be shut up in a
private dwelling, that amidst all the diversities of
forms, names and creeds, acceptable worship may be
offered to God, and the soul ascend to Heaven.
4
It is the custom of our times to erect beautiful struc¬
tures for the purposes of the present life, for legislation,
for literature, for the arts. But important as these
interests are, they are not the noblest. Man's highest
relations are not political, earthly, human. His whole
nature is not exhausted in studying and subduing out¬
ward nature, in establishing outward order, in storing
the mind with knowledge which may adorn and com¬
fort his outward life. He has wants too deep, and
powers and affections too large for the outward world.
He comes from God. His closest connection is with
God ; and he can find life and peace only in the knowl¬
edge of his Creator. Man's glory or true end is not
revealed to us in the most magnificent structure which
the architect ever reared for earthly uses. A humble
spire pointing Heavenward from an obscure church,
speaks of man's nature, man's dignity, man's destiny
more eloquently than all the columns and arches of
Greece and Rome, the mausoleums of Asia, or the
pyramids of Egypt. Is it not meet then to be grateful
and joyful, when a house is set apart to the worship of
God.
This edifice where we now meet is not indeed wholly
new. Its frame is older than the oldest of us. But
so great are the changes which it has undergone, that,
were they who laid its foundations to revisit the earth,
they would trace hardly a feature of their work ; and
as it is now entered by a new religious congregation,
there is a fitness in the present solemnity, by which we
dedicate it to the worship of God. My purpose in this
discourse is to shew that we should enter this edifice
with gratitude and joy, first, because it is dedicated
to worship in the most general sense of that term, and
in the second place on account of the particular wor¬
ship to which it is set apart. I shall close with some
remarks of a personal and local character, which may
be allowed to one, who was born and brought up on
this island, whose heart swells with local attachment.
6
and whose memory is crowded with past years as he
stands, after a long absence, within these walls, where
he sat in his childhood, and where some of his earliest
impressions were received.
I. We ought to enter this house with gratitude and
joy, for it is dedicated to Worship. Its end is that men
should meet within its walls to pay religious homage ;
to express and strengthen pious veneration, love, thank¬
fulness and confidence ; to seek and receive pure influ¬
ences from above ; to learn the will of God ; and to
consecrate themselves to the virtue in which he delights.
This edifice is reared to the glory of God, reared like
the universe to echo with his praise, to be a monument
to his being, perfection and dominion. Worship is
man's highest end, for it is the employment of his
highest faculties and affections on the sublimest object.
We have much for which to thank God, but for nothing
so much as for the power of knowing and adoring Him¬
self. This creation is a glorious spectacle ; but there
is a more glorious existence for our minds and hearts,
and that is the Creator. There is something divine in
the faculties by which we study the visible world, and
subject it to our wills, comfort, enjoyment. But it is
a diviner faculty, by which we penetrate beyond the
visible, free ourselves of the finite and the mutable, and
ascend to the Infinite and the Eternal. It is good to make
earth and ocean, winds and flames, sun and stars tribu¬
tary to our present well-being. How much better to
make them ministers to our spiritual wants, teachers of
heavenly truth, guides to a more glorious Being than
themselves, bonds of union between man and his Ma¬
ker.
There have been those who have sought to disparage
worship by representing it as an arbitrary, unnatural
service, a human contrivance, an invention for selfish
ends. Had I time, I should be glad to disprove this
sophistry by laying open to you human nature, and
6
showing the deep foundation laid in all its principles
and wants for religion ; but I can meet the objection
only by a few remarks drawn from history. There
are indeed, periods of history in which the influence of
the religious principle seems to have been overwhelmed ;
but in this it agrees with other great principles of our
nature, which in certain stages of the race disappear.
There are certain conditions of society, in which the
desire of knowledge seems almost extinct among men,
and they abandon themselves for centuries to brutish
ignorance. There are communities, in which the natu¬
ral desire of reaching a better lot gives not a sign of
its existence, and society remains stationary for ages.
There are some, in which even the parental affection
is so far dead, that the new-born child is cast into the
stream or exposed to the storm. So the religious prin¬
ciple is in some periods hardly to be discerned ; but it
is never lost. No principle is more universally mani¬
fested. In the darkest ages there are some recognitions
of a superior power. Man feels that there is a being
above himself, and he clothes that being in what to his
rude conception is great and venerable. In countries
where architecture was unknown, men chose the sol¬
emn wood or the mountain top for worship ; and when
this art appeared, its first monuments were temples to
God. Before the invention of letters, hymns were
composed to the Divinity • and music, we have reason
to think, was the oiFspring of religion. Music in its
infancy was the breathing of man's fears, wants, hopes,,
thanks, praises, to an unseen power. You tell me, my
sceptical friend, that religion is the contrivance of the
priest. How came the priest into being ? What gave
him his power ? Why was it that the ancient legislator
professed to receive his laws from the gods ? 1 he fact
is a striking one, that the earliest guides and leaders of
the human race looked to the heavens for security and
strength to earthly institutions, that they were compel¬
led to speak to men in a higher name than man's.
7
Religion was an earlier bond and a deeper foundation
of society than government. It was the root of civili¬
zation. It has founded the mightiest empires ; and yet
men question whether religion be an element ; a prin¬
ciple of human nature.
In the earliest ages, before the dawn of science, man
recognised an immediate interference of the Divinity
in whatever powerfully struck his senses. To the
savage the thunder was literally God's voice, the light¬
ning his arrow, the whirlwind his breath. Every unu¬
sual event was a miracle, a prodigy, a promise of
good, or a menace of evil from Heaven. These rude
notions have faded before the light of science, which
reveals fixed laws, a stated order of nature. But in
these laws, this order, the religious principle now finds
confirmations of God, infinitely more numerous and
powerful than the savage found in his prodigies. In
this age of the world, there is a voice louder than thun¬
der and whirlwinds, attesting the Divinity ; the voice
of the wisely interpreted works of God, every where
proclaiming wisdom unsearchable, harmony unbroken,
and a benevolent purpose in what to ages of ignorance
seemed ministers of wrath. In the present, above all
times, worship may be said to have its foundation in our
nature ; for by the improvements of this nature, we have
placed ourselves nearer to God as revealed in his universe.
The clouds which once hung over the creation are scat¬
tered. The heavens, the earth, the plant, the human
frame, now that they are explored by science, speak of
God as they never did before. His handwriting is
brought out, where former ages saw but a blank. Nor
is it only by the progress of science, that the foundation
of religion is made broader and deeper. The progress
of the arts, in teaching us the beneficent uses to which
God's works may be applied, in extracting from them
new comforts, and in diminishing or alleviating human
suffering, has furnished new testimonies to the goodness
of the Creator. Still more the progress of society has
8
given new power and delicacy to the sense of beauty
in human nature, and in consequence of this, the crea¬
tion of God has become a far more attractive, lovely
and magnificent work than men looked on in earlier
times. Above all, the moral susceptibilities and wants,
the deeper and more refined feelings, which unfold
themselves in the course of human improvement, are
so many new capacities and demands for religion. Our
nature is perpetually developing new senses for the per¬
ception and enjoyment of God. The human race as
it advances does not leave religion behind it, as it
leaves the shelter of caves and forests ; does not out¬
grow faith, does not see it fading like the mist before its
rising intelligence. On the contrary, religion opens
before the improved mind in new grandeur. God,
whom uncivilized man had narrowed into a local and
tutelar Deity, rises with every advance of knowledge
to a loftier throne, and is seen to sway a mightier scep¬
tre. The soul, in proportion as it enlarges its faculties
and refines its affections, possesses and discerns within
itself a more and more glorious type of the Divinity,
learns his spirituality in its own spiritual powers, and of¬
fers him a profounder and more inward worship. Thus
deep is the foundation of worship in human nature.
Men may assail it, may reason against it ; but sooner
can the laws of the outward universe be repealed by
human will, sooner can the sun be plucked from his
sphere, than the idea of God can be erased from the
human spirit, and his worship banished from the earth.
All other wants of man are superficial. His animal
wants are but for a day, and are to cease with the body.
The profoundest of all human wants is the want of
God. Mind, spirit, must tend to its source. It cannot
find happiness but in the Perfect Mind, the Infinite
Spirit. Worship has survived all revolutions. Cor¬
rupted, dishonored, opposed, it yet lives. It is immor¬
tal as its Object, immortal as the soul from which it
ascends.
9
Let us rejoice then in this house. It is dedicated to
Worship; it can have no higher use. The heaven of
heavens has no higher service or joy. The universe
has no higher work. Its chief office is to speak of
God. The sun, in awakening innumerable forms of
animal and vegetable life, exerts no influence to be
compared with what it puts forth in kindling the hu¬
man soul into piety, in being a type, representative,
preacher of the glory of God.
II. I have now spoken of worship in the most gen¬
eral sense. I have said that this house, considered as
separated to the adoration of God, should he entered
joyfully and gratefully, without stopping to enquire
under what particular views or forms God is here to be
adored. I now proceed to observe, that when we con¬
sider the particular worship which is here to be offered,
this occasion ought to awaken pious joy. I need not
tell you that whilst the religious principle is á part of
man's nature, it is not always developed and manifested
under the same forms. Men, agreeing in the recogni¬
tion of a divinity, have not agreed as to the service he
may accept. Indeed it seems inevitable, that men, who
differ in judgment on all subjects of thought, should
form different apprehensions of the invisible, infinite,
and mysterious God, and of the methods of adoring him.
Uniformity of opinion is to be found nowhere, and ought
to be expected least of all in religion. Who, that con¬
siders the vast, the indescribable diversity in men's
capacities and means of improvement, in the discipline
to which they are subjected, in the schools in which they
are trained, in the outward vicissitudes, and inward con¬
flicts through which they pass, can expect them to arrivent
the same conclusions in regard to their origin and destiny,
in regard to the Being from whom they sprung and the
world toward which they tend. Accordingly religion
has taken innumerable forms, and some it must be ac¬
knowledged most unworthy of its object. The great
2
10
idea of God has been seized upon by men's selfish de¬
sires, hopes, and fears, and often so obscured that little
of its purifying power has remained. Man, full of
wants, conscious of guilt, exposed to suffering, and pe¬
culiarly struck by the more awful phenomena of nature,
has been terror-smitten before the unseen, irresistible
power with which he has felt himself encompassed.
Hence to appease his wrath and secure his partial re¬
gards has been the great object of worship. Hence
worship has been so often a pompous machinery, a trib¬
ute of obsequious adulation, an accumulation of gifts
and victims. Hence worship has been the effort of
nations and individuals to bend the Almighty to their
particular interests and purposes, and not the reverential,
grateful, joyful, filial lifting up of the soul to Infinite
Greatness, Goodness, Rectitude and Purity. Even
under Christianity human infirmity has disfigured the
thought of God. Worship has been debased by fear
and selfishness into a means of propitiating wrath,
calming fear, and securing future enjoyment. All sects
have carried their imperfection into their religion. None
of us can boast of exemption from the common frailty.
That this house is to be set apart to a perfect, spotless,
unerring worship, none of us are so presumptuous as to
hope. But 1 believe, that in the progress of society and
Christianity, higher and purer conceptions of the Divinity
have been unfolded ; and I cannot but believe, that the
views of God and of his worship to which this house is now
consecrated are so far enlightened, enlarged, purified, as
to justify us in entering its walls with great thankfulness
and joy.
This house is not reared to perpetuate the .superstitions
of past ages, nor of the present age. It is not reared
to doom the worshipper to continual repetition of his
own or other delusions. It is reared for the progress of
truth, reared in the faith that the church is destined to
new light and new purity, reared in the anticipation of
a happier, holier age. As I look round I am met by none
11
of the representations of the Divinity which degraded
the ancient temples. My eyes light on no image of
wood or stone, on no efforts of art to embody to the eye
the invisible Spirit. As I look round, I am met by none
of the forms, which Providence, in accommodation to a
rude stage of society, allowed to the Jewish people. No
altar sends up here the smoke of incense or victims.
No priesthood gorgeously arrayed presents to God the
material offerings of man. Nor are my eyes pained by
the cumbersome ceremonies, by which in later ages
Christianity was overlaid, and almost overwhelmed. No
childish pomps, borrowed from Judaism and heathenism,
obscure here the simple majesty, the sublime spiritual
purpose of Christianity. Nor was this house reared for
the promulgation of doctrines, which tend to perpetuate
the old servility with which God was approached, to
make man abject in the sight of his maker, to palsy him
with terror, to prostrate his reason. This house is
reared to assist the worshipper in conceiving and offer¬
ing more and more perfectly the worship described in
the text, the worship of the Father in spirit and truth.
On this topic, on the nature of the worship to be of¬
fered in this house, I have many reflections to offer. My
illustrations may be reduced to the following heads.
This house is reared, first, for the worship of One Infinite
Person and one only ; of Him whom Jesus always dis¬
tinguished and addressed as the Father. In the next
place, it is erected for the worship of God under the
special character of Father, that is of a Parental Divin¬
ity. In the last place, it is set apart to the worship of
Him in spirit and truth.
First, You have prepared this edifice, that here you
may worship One Infinite Person, even Him and Him
only whom Jesus continually calls the Father. One
would think, that on this point there could be no differ¬
ence among Christians. One would think, that Jesus
had placed the object of Christian worship beyond all
dispute» It is hard to conceive more solemn, more defi-
12
nite language than he has used. " The hour cometh
and now is, when the true worshippers shall worship the
Father in spirit and in truth, for the Father seeketh
such to worship him." Yet it is well known that very
many Christians deny that one person, the Father, is the
only proper object of supreme worship. They maintain
that two other persons the Son and the Holy Spirit are
to be joined with him in our adoration, and that the
most important distinction of the Christian religion is
the worship of God in three persons. Against this
human exposition of Christianity we earnestly protest.
Whilst we recognize with joy, the sincerity and piety
of those who adopt it, we maintain that this gross de¬
parture from the simplicity and purity of our faith is
fraught with evil to the individual and the church. This
house is reared to be a monument to the proper unity of
God. We worship the Father.
All the grounds of this peculiarity of our worship
cannot of course be expounded in the limits of a dis¬
course, nor indeed do we deem any labored exposition
necessary. We start from a plain principle. We affirm,
that if any point in a religious system must he brought
out explicitly, must not be left to inference, hut set forth
in simple, direct, authoritative language, it is the Object
of worship. On this point we should expect peculiar
explicitness, if a revelation should be communicated for
the purpose of giving a new direction to men's miods
in this particular. Now among Jews and Gentiles the
worship of three infinite persons, one of whom was
clothed with a human form, was unknown ; and of con¬
sequence if this strange, mighty innovation had been
intended by Jesus and had constituted the most striking
peculiarity of his system, it must have been announced
with all possible clearness and strength. Be it then
remembered, that Jesus, in a solemn description of the
true worship which he was to introduce, made not an
allusion to this peculiarity, but declared, as the charac¬
teristic of the true worshippers that they should worship
13
the Father in Spirit and in truth. Be it also remem¬
bered, that Jesus never enjoined the worship of three
persons, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Not one in¬
junction to this effect can be found in the gospel or in
the writings of the apostles. This strange worship rests
on inference alone. " The true worshippers (says the
text) shall worship the Father." When his disciples
came to him to be instructed in prayer, he taught them
to say. Our Father. In his last affectionate discourse he
again and again taught his disciples to pray to the Father
in his name. This dying injunction, so often and so
tenderly repeated, should not for slight reasons be ex¬
plained away. Still more, just before his death, Jesus
himself in presence of his disciples prayed to the Father,
and prayed in this language : Father, This is life eter¬
nal, that they (i. e. men) should know thee, the only true
God, and Jesus Christ whom thou hast sent.
To these remarks it is common to reply, that we read
in the New Testament, that Jesus was again and again
worshipped, and that in admitting this he manifested
himself to be the object of religious adoration. It is
wonderful that this fallacy, so often exposed, should be
still repeated. Jesus indeed received worship or homage,
but this was not offered as adoration to the Infinite God ;
it was the homage, which, according to the custom of the
age and of the eastern world, was paid to men invested
with great authority whether in civil or religious con¬
cerns. Whoever has studied the Scriptures with the
least discernment must know, that the word, worship, is
used in two different senses, to express first the adora¬
tion due to the Infinite Creator, and secondly the rever¬
ence which was due to sovereigns and prophets, and
which of course belonged peculiarly to the most illus¬
trious representative of God, to his beloved Son. Who¬
ever understands the import of the English language in
the time when our translation was made, must know that
the word was then used to express the homage paid
to human superiors, as well as the supreme reverence
14
belonging to God alone. Let not an ambiguous word
darken the truth. We are sure, that the worship paid to
Christ during his public ministry, was rendered to him
as a divine messenger and not as God ; for in the first
place it was offered, before his teachings had been suffi¬
ciently full and distinct to reveal the mystery of his
nature, supposing it to have been divine. We pronounce
it not merely improbable but impossible, that Jesus, a
poor man, a mechanic from Galilee, at the beginning of
his mission, when his chosen disciples were waitingfor his
manifestation as an earthly prince, should have been
adored as the everlasting invisible God. Again the titles
given him by those who worshipped him, such as Good
Teacherj Son of David, Son of God, show us, that the
thought of adoring him as the Self-Existent, Infinite
Divinity, had no place in their minds. But there is one
consideration which sets this point at rest. The worship
paid to Jesus during his ministry was offered him in public,
in sight of the Jewish people. Now to the Jews no crime
was so flagrant, as the paying of divine homage to a human
being, such as they esteemed Jesus to be. Of conse¬
quence had they seen in the marks of honor yielded to
Jesus even an approach to this adoration, their exaspe¬
ration would have burst forth in immediate overwhelm¬
ing violence on the supposed impiety. The fact, that
they witnessed the frequent prostration of men before Je¬
sus, or what is called the worship of him, without once
charging it as a crime, is a demonstration that the act was
in no respect a recognition of him as the supreme
God.
It is worthy of remark that the passages, which are
announced as the strongest proofs of the divine worship
of Christ, directly disprove the doctrine, if the connec¬
tion be regarded. One of these texts is the declaration
of Jesus, that we must "honor the Son even as we
honor the Father." Hear the whole passage. "The
Father hath given all judgment to the Son that all men
should honor the Son, as they honor the Father. He
15
that honoreth not the Son, hortoreth not the Father who
sent him."* You observe, that it is not the supreme
underived divinity of Christ, but the power given him
by his Father, which is here expressly declared to be the
foundation of the honor challenged for him, and that we
are called to him, as sent by God. Another passage
much relied on is the declaration of Paul that " at the
name of Jesus every knee should bow and every tongue
acknowledge him Lord." Read the whole text. " God
hath highly exalted him, and given him a name, above
every name, that in the name of Jesus every knee should
bow, of things in Heaven, and things in earth, and things
under the earth ; and that every tongue should confess
that Jesus Christ is Lord to the glory of God the Fa¬
ther."! Could language express more clearly, the dis¬
tinct, derived and dependent nature of Jesus Christ, or
teach that the worship due him is subordinate, having
for its foundation the dignity conferred on him by God
and terminating on the Father as its supreme object.
This House then is erected to the supreme worship
of the Father, to the recognition of the Father only
as the self-existent Infinite God. Homage will here be
paid to Jesus Christ, and I trust a far more profound and
aíFectionate homage than he received on earth, when his
spiritual character and the true purposes of his mission
were almost unknown. But we shall honor him as the
Son, the brightest image, the sent of God, not as God
himself. We shall honor him as exalted above every
name or dignity in Heaven or earth, but as exalted by
God for his obedience unto death. We shall honor him
as clothed with power to give life and judge, but shall
remember that the Father hath given all judgment and
quickening energy to the Son. We look up with delight
and reverence to his divine virtues, his celestial love, his
truth, his spirit; and we are sure that in as far as we
imbibe these from the affectionate remembrance of his
* John V. 2i, 23.
♦ Philippians ii. 3.
16
life, death and triumphs, we shall render the worship
most acceptable to this disinterested friend of the hu¬
man race.
1 have said that this house is set apart to the Worship
of the Father. But this term expresses not only the
Person, the Being to whom it is to be paid. It express¬
es a peculiar character. It ascribes peculiar attributes
to God. It ascribes to him the Parental relation and
the disposition of a Parent. I therefore observe, in the
second place, that this house is reared to the adoration
of God in his Paternal character. It is reared to a
Parental Divinity. To my own mind this view is more
affecting than the last^ Nothing so touches me, when
I look round these walls, as the thought that God is to
be worshipped here as the Father. That God has not
always been worshipped as a Father, even among Chris¬
tians, you well know. Men have always inclined to
think, that they honor God by placing him on a distant
throne, much more than by investing him with the mild
lustre of parental goodness. They have made him a
stern sovereign, giving life on hard terms, preferring his
own honor to the welfare of his creatures, demanding
an obedience which he gives no strength to perform,
preparing endless torments for creatures whom he brings
into being wholly evil, and refusing to pardon the least
sin, the sin of the child, without an infinite satisfaction.
Men have too often been degraded, broken in spirit,
stripped of manly feeling, rather than lifted up to true
dignity, by their religion. How seldom has worship
breathed the noblest sentiments of human nature.
Thanks to Jesus Christ, that he came to bring us to a
purifying, ennobling, rejoicing adoration. He has re¬
vealed the Father. His own character was a bright
revelation of the most lovely and attractive attributes of
the Divinity, so that he was able to say " He that hath
seen me hath seen the Father." By his manifestation
of the Parental character of God, he created religion
17
anew. He fjreathed a new and heavenly spirit into
worship. He has made adoration a filial communion,
assimilating us to our Creator. Ought we not then to
rejoice in this house as set apart to the worship of the
Father, to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ.
The Father ! In this one word what consoling,
strengthening, ennobling truth is wrapt up. In this
single view of God how much is there to bind us to
him, with strong, indissoluble, evergrowing love, and to
make worship not only our chief duty, but our highest
privilege and joy. The Father! can it be that "the
High and Holy One who inhabiteth eternity," " the
Lord of Heaven and earth," the Majesty of the universe,
bears to us this relation, reveals himself under this name,
and that we, so weak and erring, may approach him
with the hope of children. Who cannot comprehend
the dignity and blessedness of such worship ? Who
does not feel, that the man to whom God's parental
character is a deep-felt reality, has in this conviction a
fountain of strength, hope and purity springing up into
everlasting life.
But to offer this true worship we must understand
distinctly what we mean, when we call God the Father.
The word has a deep and glorious import, and in as far
as this is unknown, religion will want life and power.
Is it understood ? I am bound to say that there seems
to me a want of purity, of spirituality in the conception
of God's parental relation, even among those Christians
who profess to make it the great foundation and object
of their worship. Too many rest in vague conceptions
of God as their Creator, who supplies their wants, and
who desires their happiness, and they think, that, thus
regarding him, they know the Father. Such imperfect
views incline me to state at some length what I deem
the truth on this point. No truth is so essential to
Christian worship. No truth sheds such a flood of light
on the whole subject of religion.
My friends you are to come here to worship the
3
18
Father. What does this term import. It does not
mean merely that God is your Creator. He is indeed
the Creator, and as such let him be adored. This is
his sole prerogative. His and his only is the mysterious
power, which filled the void space with a universe. His
the Almighty voice, which called the things which were
not, and they came forth. The universe is a perpetual
answer to this creating Word. For this, worship God.
In every thing hear an exhortation to adore. In the
grandeur, beauty, order of nature, see a higher glory
than its own, a mysterious force deeper than all its
motions ; and from its countless voices, from its mild and
awful tones, gather the one great lesson which they con¬
spire to teach, the majesty of their author.
But my friends God is more than creator. To create
is not to be a Father in the highest sense of that term.
He created the mountain, the plant, the insect, but we
do not call him their Father. We do not call the artist
the Father of the statue which he models, nor the me¬
chanician the Father of the machine he contrives. It
is the distinction of a Father, that he communicates an
existence like his own. The Father gives being to the
child, and the very idea of the child is, that he bears the
image as well as receives existence from the power of the
parent. God is the Father, because he brings into life
minds, spirits, partaking of energies kindred to his own
attributes. Accordingly the scripture teaches us, that
God made man in his own image, after his own likeness.
Here is the ground of his paternal relation to the hu¬
man race, and hence he is called in an especial sense
the Father of those who make it the labor of life to
conform themselves more and more to their divine origi¬
nal. God is " the Father of spirits."
My friends we are not wholly matter, we are not
wholly flesh. Were we so, we could not call God our
Father. God is a spirit, says the text, and we are spir¬
its also. This our consciousness teaches. We are
conscious of a principle superior to the body which
19
comprehends and controls it. We are conscious of fac¬
ulties higher than the senses. We do something more
than receive impressions passively, unresistingly, like
the brute, from the outward world. We analyze, com¬
pare, and combine anew the things which we see,
subject the outward world to the inquisition of reason,
create sciences, rise to general laws, and through these
establish an empire over earth and sea. We penetrate
beneath the surface which the senses report ; search for
the hidden causes, enquire for the ends or purposes,
trace out the connections, dependencies and harmonies
of nature ; discover a sublime unity amidst its boundless
variety, and order amidst its seeming confusion ; rise to
the idea of one all-comprehending and all-ordaining
mind ; and thus by thought make as it were a new uni¬
verse radiant with wisdom, beneficence and beauty.
We are not mere creatures of matter and sense. We
conceive a higher good than comes from the senses.
We possess, asa portion of our being, a law higher than
appetite, nobler and more enduring than all the laws of
matter, the Law of Duty. We discern, we approve,
the Right, the Good, the Just, the Holy, and by this
sense of rectitude are laid under obligations, which no
power of the outward universe can dissolve. We have
within us a higher force than all the forces of material
nature, a power of will which can adhere to duty and
to God in opposition to all the might of the elements,
and all the malignity of earth or Hell. We have
thoughts, ideas, which do not come from matter, the
Ideas of the Infinite, the Everlasting, the Immutable,
the Perfect. Living amidst the frail, the limited, the
changing, we rise to the thought of Unbounded, Eter¬
nal, Almighty Goodness. Nor is this all. While mat¬
ter obeys mechanical and irresistible laws, and is bound
by an unrelaxing necessity to the same fixed, unvarying
movements, we feel ourselves to be Free. We have
power over ourselves, over thought and desire, power
to conform ourselves to a law written on our hearts.
20
and power to resist this law. Man must never be con¬
founded with the material, mechanical world around
him. He is a spirit. He has capacities, thoughts, im¬
pulses, which assimilate him to God. His reason is a
ray of the Infinite Reason ; his conscience, an oracle
of the Divinity, publishing the Everlasting Law of Rec¬
titude. Therefore God is his Father. Therefore he
is bound to his maker by a spiritual bond. This we
must feel, or we know nothing of the parental relation
of God to the human race.
God is the Father and as such let him be worship¬
ped. He is the Father. By this I understand that he
has given being not only to worlds of matter, but to a
rational, moral, spiritual universe, and still more I under¬
stand, not only that he has created a spiritual family in
Heaven and on earth, but that he manifests towards
them the attributes and exerts on them the influences
of a Father. Some of these attributes and influences
I will suggest, that the parental character in which God
is to be worshipped may be more distinctly apprehend¬
ed and more deeply felt.
First then, in calling God the Father I understand
that he loves his rational and moral offspring with un¬
bounded affection. Love, is the fundamental attribute
of a Father. How deep, strong, tender, enduring the
attachment of a human parent ! But this shadows
forth feebly the Divine Parent. He loves us with
an energy like that with which he upholds the uni¬
verse. The human parent does not comprehend his
child, cannot penetrate the mystery of the spiritual na¬
ture which lies hid beneath the infant form. It is the
prerogative of God alone to understand the immortal
mind to which he gives life. The narrowest human
spirit can be comprehended in its depths and destiny
by none but its maker, and is more precious in his sight
than material worlds. Is he not peculiarly its father ?
Again in calling God the Father, I understand that
It is his chief purpose in creating and governing the
21
universe to educate, train, form, and enoble the rational
and moral being to whom he has given birth. Education
is the great work of a parent, and he who neglects it is
unworthy the name. God gives birth to the mind, that
it may grow and rise for ever, and its progress is the
end of all his works. This outward universe, with its
sun and stars, and mighty revolutions, is but a school in
which the Father is training his children. God is ever
present to the human mind to carry on its education,
pouring in upon it instruction and incitement from the
outward world, stirring up everlasting truths within
itself, rousing it to activity by pleasure and pain, calling
forth its affections by surrounding fellow-creatures, call¬
ing it to duty by placing it amidst various relations,
awakening its sympathy by sights of sorrow, awaken¬
ing its imagination by a world of beauty, and especially
exposing it to suffering, hardship, and temptation, that
by resistance it may grow strong, and by seeking help
from above, it may bind itself closely to its Maker.
Thus he is the Father. There are those who think,
that God, if a parent, must make our enjoyment his
supreme end. He has a higher end, our intellectual
and moral education. Even the good human parent,
desires the progress, the virtue of his child more than
its enjoyment. God never manifests himself more as
our father, than in appointing to us pains, conflicts,
trials, by which we may rise to the heroism of virtue,
may become strong to do, to dare, to suffer, to sacrifice
all things at the call of truth and duty.
Again, in calling God a Father, I understand that he
exercises authority over his rational offspring. Author¬
ity is the essential attribute of a father. A parent,
worthy of that name, embodies and expresses both in
commands and actions, the everlasting law of Duty.
His highest function is to bring out in the minds of his
children the idea of Right, and to open to them the per¬
fection of their nature. It is too common a notion, that
God as Father, must be more disposed to bless than to
22
command. His commands are among his chief bless¬
ings. He never speaks with more parental kindness
than by that inward voice, which teaches duty and ex¬
cites and cheers to its performance. Nothing is so
strict, so inflexible in enjoining the right and the good,
as perfect love. This can endure no moral stain in its
object. The whole experience of life, rightly constru¬
ed, is a revelation of God's parental authority and
righteous retribution.
Again. When I call God the Father I understand
that he communicates Himself, his own spirit, what
is most glorious in his own nature to his rational off¬
spring, a doctrine almost overwhelming by its grandeur,
but yet true, and the very truth which shines most
clearly from the christian scriptures. It belongs to a
parent to breathe into the child whatever is best and
loftiest in his own soul, and for this end a good father
seeks every approach to the mind of the child. Such
a father is God. He has created us not only to partake
of his works, but to be " partakers of a divine nature,"
not only to receive his gifts but to receive Himself. As
he is a pure spirit, he has an access to the minds of his
children, not enjoyed by human parents. He pervades,
penetrates our souls. All other beings, our nearest
friends, are far from us, foreign to us, strangers, compared
with God. Others hold intercourse with us through the
body. He is in immediate contact with our souls. We
do not discern him because he is too near, too inward,
too deep to be recognized by our present imperfect
consciousness. And he is thus near, not only to discern,
but to act, to influence, to give his spirit, to communi¬
cate to us divinity. This is the great paternal gift of
God. He has greater gifts than the world. He confers
more than the property of the earth and heavens. The
very attributes from which the earth and heavens sprung,
these he imparts to his rational offspring. Even his
disinterested, impartial, universal goodness, which diffu¬
ses beauty, life and happiness, even this excellence it is
23
his purpose to breathe into and cherish in the human
soul. In regard to the spiritual influence, by which
God brings the created spirit into conformity to his own,
I would that I could speak worthily. It is gentle, that
it may not interfere with our freedom. It sustains,
mingles with, and moves all our faculties. It acts
through nature, providence, revelation, society, and ex¬
perience ; and the scriptures, conflrmed by reason and
the testimonies of the wisest and best men, teach us,
that it acts still more directly. God, being immediately
present to the soul, holds immediate communion with it,
in proportion as it prepares itself to receive and to use
aright the heavenly inspiration. He opens the inward
eye to himself, communicates secret monitions of duty,
revives and freshens our convictions of truth, builds up
our faith in human immortality, unseals the deep, unfath-
omed fountains of Love within us, instils strength, peace
and comfort, and gives victory over pain, sin, and death.
This influence of God exerted on the soul to conform
it to himself, to make it worthy of its divine parentage,
this it is which most clearly manifests what is meant by
his being our Father. We understand his parental re¬
lation to us, only as far as we comprehend this great
purpose and exercise of his love. We must have faith
in the human soul, as receptive of the divinity, as made
for greatness, for spiritual elevation, for likeness to God,
or God's character as a Father will be to us an unre-
vealed mystery. If we think, as so many seem to think,
that God has made us only for low pleasures and at¬
tainments, that our nature is incapable of godlike vir¬
tues, that our prayers for the Divine Spirit are unheard,
that celestial influences do not descend into the human
soul, that God never breathes on it to lift it above its
present weakness, to guide it to a more perfect exist¬
ence, to unite it more intimately with himself, then we
know but faintly the meaning of a Father in Heaven.
The great revelation in Christianity of a Paternal Di¬
vinity is still to be made to us.
24
I might here pause in the attempt to give distinct
conceptions of the Father whom we are to worship ;
but there are two views so suited to us, as sinful and
mortal beings, that I cannot pass them over without
brief notice. Let me add then, that in speaking of
God as the Father, I understand, that he looks with over¬
flowing compassion on such of his rational offspring as
forsake him, as forsake the law of duty. It is the pro¬
perty of the human parent to follow with yearnings of
tenderness an erring child ; and in this he is a faint type
of God, who sees his lost sons " a great way oflT," who
to recover his human family spared not his beloved Son,
who sends his regenerating spirit into the fallen soul,
sends rebuke and shame and fear and sorrow, and awa¬
kens the dead in trespasses and sins to a higher life than
that which the first birth conferred.
I also understand, in calling God the Father, that he
destines his rational, moral creature to Immortality.
How ardently does the human parent desire to prolong
the life of his child. And how much more must he, who
gave being to the spirit with its unbounded faculties,
desire its endless being. God is our Father, for he has
made us to bear the image of his own eternity as well
as of his other attributes. Other things pass away, for
they fulfil their end ; but the soul, which never reaches
its goal, whose development is never complete, is never
to disappear from the universe. God created it to re¬
ceive forever of his fulness. His fatherly love is not
exhausted in what he now bestows. There is a higher
life. Human perfection is not a dream. The brightest
visions of genius fade before the realities of excellence
and happiness to which good men are ordained. In that
higher life, the parental character of God will break
forth from the clouds which now obscure it. His bright
image in his children will proclaim the Infinite Father.
I have thus, my friends, set before you the true ob¬
ject of Christian worship. You are here to worship God
as your spiritual parent, as the Father of your spirits.
25
whose great purpose is your spiritual perfection, your
participation of a divine nature. I hold this view of
God to be the true, deep foundation of christian wor¬
ship. On your reception of it depends the worth of
the homage to be offered here. It is not enough to
think of God as operating around and without you, as
creating material worlds, as the former of your bodies,
as ordaining the revolution of seasons for your animal
wants. There is even danger in regarding God exclu¬
sively as the author of the outward universe. There is
danger, lest you feel as if you were overlooked in this
immensity, lest you shrink before these mighty masses
of matter, lest you see in the unchangeable laws of na¬
ture a stern order, to which the human being is a victim,
and which heeds not the puny individual in maintaining
the general good. It is only by regarding God as more
than Creator, as your spiritual Father, as having made
you to partake of his spiritual attributes, as having giv¬
en you a spiritual power worth more than the universe,
it is only by regarding his intimacy with the soul, his
paternal concern for it, his perpetual influence on it, it
is only by these views that worship rises into ñlial
confidence, hope, joy, and rapture, and puts forth a
truly ennobling power. Worship has too often been
abject, the offering of fear or selfishness. God's
greatness, though a pledge of greatness to his children,
and his omnipotence, though an assurance to us of
mighty power in our conflict with evil, have generated
self-contempt and discouraged access to him. My
friends, come hither to worship God as your Spiritual
Father. No other view can so touch and penetrate the
soul, can place it so near its maker, can open before it
such vast prospects, can awaken such transports of
praise and gratitude, can bow the soul in such ingenuous
sorrow for sin, can so fortify you for the conflict against
evil. Ought we not to rejoice that this house is reared
for the worship of the spiritual Father?
The exposition which I have given under this head
4
26
of the parental relation of God to the human race is
one in which I take the deepest interest. I have felt,
however, as I proceeded, that very possibly objections
would spring up in the minds of some who hear me.
There are not a few who are sceptical as to whatever
supposes a higher condition of human nature than they
now observe. Perhaps some here could they speak
would say, " We do not see the marks of this father¬
ly interest of God in man of which you have spoken.
We do not see in man the signs of a being, so beloved,
so educated, as you have supposed. His weakness,
sufferings and sins, are surely no proofs of his having
been created to receive God's spirit, to partake of the
divinity." On this point I have much to say, but my
answer must be limited to a few words. I reply, that
the love of an Infinite Father may be expected often to
work in methods beyond the comprehension of our lim¬
ited minds. An immortal being in his infancy cannot of
course comprehend all the processes of his education,
many of which look forward to ages too distant for the
imagination to explore. I would add, that notwithstand¬
ing the darkness which hangs over human life on account
of the greatness of our nature, we can yet see bright
signatures of the parental concern of God, and see them
in the very circumstances which at first create doubt.
Because we suffer, it ought not to be inferred, that God
is not a Father. Suffering, trial, exposure seem to be
necessary elements in the education of a moral being.
It is fit, that a being, whose happiness and dignity are to
be found in vigorous action and in forming himself,
should be born with undeveloped capacities, and be born
into a world of mingled difficulties and aids. We do see,
that energy of thought, will, affection, virtue, the ener¬
gy which is our true life and joy, often springs from trial.
We can see too, that it is well that society like the indi¬
vidual should begin in imperfection ; because men in this
way become to each other means of discipline, because
joint sufferings and the necessity of joint efforts awaken
27
both the affections and the faculties, because occasion
and incitement are thus given to generous sacrifices, to
heroic struggles, to the most beautiful and stirring man¬
ifestations of philanthropy, patriotism, and devotion.
Were I called on to prove God's spiritual parental inter¬
est in us, I would point to the trials, temptations, evils of
life ; for to these we owe the character of Christ, we owe
the apostle and martyr, we owe the moral force and deep
sympathy of private and domestic life, we owe the devel¬
opment of what is divine in human nature. Truly God
is our Father, and as such to be worshipped.
Having thus set forth very imperfectly, but from a
full heart, the excellence of the homage which is here
to be rendered to God in his parental character, I ought
now to proceed, according to the plan of this discourse,
to show that we should enter this house with joy, be¬
cause it is set apart to the worship of God in Spirit and
in Truth, to an Inward not outward worship. In discus¬
sing this topic, I might enlarge on the vast and beneficent
revolution which Jesus Christ wrought in religion, by
teaching that God is a spirit, and to be spiritually ador¬
ed. I might show how much he wrought for human ele¬
vation and happiness, when in pronouncing the text, he
shook the ancient temples to their foundations, quenched
the fire on the heathen and Jewish altars, wrested the
instruments of sacrifice from the hand of the priest,
abolished sanctity of place, and consecrated the human
soul as the true house of God. But the nature, gran¬
deur, benefits of this spiritual worship, are subjects too
extensive for our present consideration. Instead of dis¬
cussion, I can only use the words of exhortation. I can
only say, that you, who are to assemble in this place, are
peculiarly bound to inward worship, for to you especially
Christianity is an inward system. Most other denomi¬
nations expect salvation more or less from what Jesus
does abroad, especially from his agency on the mind of
God. You expect it from what he does within your own
28
minds. His great glory, according to your views, lies in
his influence on the human soul, in the communication
of his spirit to his followers. To you salvation, heaven,
and hell have their seat in the soul. To you, Christian¬
ity is wholly a spiritual system. Come then to this
place to worship with the soul, to elevate the spirit to
God. Let not this house be desecrated by a religion of
show. Let it not degenerate into a place of forms.
Let not your pews be occupied by lifeless machines.
Do not come here to take part in lethargic repetitions
of sacred words. Do not come from a cold sense of
duty, to quiet conscience with the thought of having paid
a debt to God. Do not come to perform a present task
to ensure a future heaven. Come to find heaven now,
to anticipate the happiness of that better world by
breathing its spirit, to bind your souls indissolubly to
your maker.—Come to worship in spirit and in truth,
that is, intelligently, rationally,with clear judgment, with
just and honorable conceptions of the infinite Father, not
prostrating your understandings, not renouncing the
divine gift of reason, but offering an enlightened hom¬
age, such as is due to the Fountain of intelligence and
truth.—Come to worship with the heart as well as in¬
tellect, with life, fervor, zeal. Sleep over your business
if you will, but not over your religion.—Come to wor¬
ship with strong conviction, with living faith in a higher
presence than meets the eye, with a feeling of God's
presence not only around you, but in the depths of your
souls.—Come to worship with a filial spirit, not with
fear, dread and gloom, not with sepulchral tones and
desponding looks, but with humble, cheerful, boundless
trust, with overflowing gratitude, with a love willing
and earnest to do and to suffer whatever may approve
yourdevotion to God.—Come to worship him with what
he most delights in, with aspiration for spiritual light
and life ; come to cherish and express desires for virtue,
for purity, for power over temptation, stronger and more
insatiable than spring up in your most eager pursuits of
29
business or pleasure ; and welcome joyfully every holy
impulse, every accession of strength to virtuous purpo¬
ses, to the love of God and man. — In a word, come to
offer a refined, generous worship, to offer a tribute wor¬
thy of Him who is the Perfection of truth, goodness,
beauty, and blessedness. Adore him with the calmest
reason, and the profoundest love, and strive to conform
yourselves to what you adore.
I have now my friends set before you the worship to
which this building is set apart, and which from its ra¬
tional, filial, pure, and ennobling character, renders this
solemnity a season for thankfulness and joy. I should
not however be just to this occasion, or to the great
purpose of this house, if I were to stop here. My re¬
marks have hitherto been confined to the worship which
is to be offered within these walls, to the influence to
be exerted on you when assembled here. But has this
house no higher end than to give an impulse to your
minds for the very few hours which you are to spend
beneath its roof? Then we have little reason to enter
it with joy. The great end for which you are to wor¬
ship here is, that you may worship every where. You
are to feel God's presence here, that it may be felt
wherever you go, and whatever you do. The very idea
of spiritual homage is, that it takes possession of the
soul, and becomes a part of our very being. The great
design of this act of dedication is, that your houses,
your places of business may be consecrated to God.
This topic of omnipresent worship I cannot expand.
One view of it, however, I must not omit. From the
peculiar character of the worship to which this house is
consecrated, you learn the kind of worship which you
should carry from it into your common lives. It is not
uncommon for the Christian teacher to say to his con¬
gregation, that when they leave the church, they go
forth into a nobler temple, than one made with hands,
into the temple of the Creation, and that they must go
30
forth to worship God in his works. The views given
of the true worship in this discourse, will lead me to a
somewhat different style of exposition. I will, indeed,
say to you, go from this house to adore God as he is re¬
vealed in the boundless universe. This is one end of
your worship here. But I would add, that a higher
end is, that you should go forth to worship him as he is
revealed in his rational and moral offspring, and to wor¬
ship him by fulfilling, as you have power, his purposes in
regard to these. My great aim in this discourse, has
been to show that God is to be adored here as the Fa¬
ther of rational and moral beings, of yourselves and all
mankind ; and such a worship tends directly and is de¬
signed to lead us when we go hence to recognize God
in our own nature, to see in men his children, to respect
and serve them for their relationship to the Divinity, to
see in them signatures of greatness amidst all their imper¬
fection, and to love them with more than earthly love.
We must not look round on the universe with awe, and
on man with scorn, for man who can comprehend the
universe and its laws " is greater than the universe,
which cannot comprehend itself." God dwells in every
human being more intimately than in the outward crea¬
tion. The voice of God comes to us in the ocean, the
thunder, the whirlwind ; but how much more of God is
there in his inward voice, in the intuitions of reason,
in the rebukes of conscience, in the whispers of the
Holy Spirit. I would have you see God in the awful
mountain and the tranquil valley ; but more, much
more in the clear Judgment, the moral energy, the dis¬
interested purpose, the pious gratitude, the immortal
hope of a good man. Go from this house to worship
God by reverencing the human soul as his chosen sanc¬
tuary. Revere it in yourselves, revere it in others, and
labor to carry it forward to perfection. Worship God
wdthin these walls as universally, impartially good to
his human offspring ; and go forth to breathe the same
spirit. Go forth to respect the rights, and seek the
31
true, enduring welfare of all within your influence.
Carry with you the conviction, that to trample on a
human being, of whatever color, clime, rank, condition,
is to trample on God's child ; that to degrade or cor¬
rupt a man, is to deface a holier temple than any mate¬
rial sanctuary. Mercy, Love, is more acceptable wor¬
ship to God, than all sacrifices or outward offerings.
The most celestial worship ever paid on earth was ren¬
dered by Christ, when he approached man, and the
most sinful man, as a child of God, when he toiled
and bled to awaken what was Divine in the human
soul, to regenerate a fallen world. Be such the wor¬
ship which you shall carry from this place. Go forth to
do good with every power which God bestows, to make
every place you enter happier by your presence, to es¬
pouse all human interests, to throw your whole weight
into the scale of human freedom and improvement, to
withstand all wrong, to uphold all right, and especially
to give light, life, strength to the immortal soul. He
who rears up one child in Christian virtue, or recovers
one fellow creature to God, builds a temple more pre¬
cious than Solomon's or St. Peter's, more enduring
than earth or heaven.
I have now finished the general discussion which this
occasion seemed to me to require, and I trust that a
few remarks of a personal and local character will be
received with indulgence. It is with no common emo¬
tion that I take part in the present solemnity. I stand
now to teach, where in my childhood and youth I was
a learner. The generation which I then knew has al¬
most wholly disappeared. The venerable man, whose
trembling voice I then heard in this place, has long
since gone to his reward. My earliest friends, who
watched over my childhood and led me by the hand to
this place, have been taken. Still my emotions are
not sad. I rejoice ; for whilst I sec melancholy chan¬
ges around me, and still more feel, that time, which has
32
bowed other frames, has touched my own, I see that
the work of human improvement has gone on. I see
that clearer and brighter truths, than were opened on my
own youthful mind, are to he imparted to succeeding
generations. Herein I do and will rejoice.
On looking hack to my early years I can distinctly
recollect unhappy influences exerted on my mind by the
general tone of religion in this town. I can recollect,
too, a corruption of morals among those of my own age,
which made boyhood a critical, perilous season. Still
I must bless God for the place of my nativity ; for as
my mind unfolded, I became more and more alive to
the beautiful scenery which now attracts strangers to
our island. My first liberty was used in roaming over
the neighboring fields and shmes ; and amid this glori¬
ous nature, that love of liberty sprang up, which has
gained strength within me to this hour. I early received
impressions of the great and the beautiful, which I believe
have had no small influence in determining my modes
of thought and habits of life. In this town I pursued
for a time my studies of theology. I had no professor
or teacher to guide me, but I had two noble places of
study. One was yonder beautiful edifice, now so fre¬
quented and so useful as a public library, then so desert¬
ed that I spent day after day and sometimes week after
week amidst its dusty volumes, without interruption
from a single visiter. The other place was yonder
beach, the roar of which has so often mingled with the
worship of this place, my daily resort, dear to me in
the sunshine, still more attractive in the storm. Sel¬
dom do I visit it now without thinking of the work,
which there, in the sight of that beauty, in the sound of
those waves, was carried on in my soul. No spot on
earth has helped to form me so much, as that beach.
There I lifted up my voice in praise amidst the tem¬
pest. There, softened by beauty, I poured out my
thanksgiving and contrite confessions. There, in rev¬
erential sympathy with the mighty power around me,
33
I became conscious of power within. There, strug¬
gling thoughts and emotions broke forth, as if moved to
utterance by nature's eloquence of the winds and waves-
There began a happiness surpassing all worldly pleas¬
ures, all gifts of fortune, the happiness of communing
with the works of God. Pardon me this reference to
myself. I believe that the worship, of which I have
this day spoken, was aided in my own soul by the
scenes in which my early life was passed. Amidst
these scenes, and in speaking of this worship, allow me
to thank God that this beautiful island was the place of
my birth.
Leaving what is merely personal, I would express
my joy, and it is most sincere, in the dedication of this
house, regarded as a proof and a means of the diffu¬
sion of Christian truth. Some perhaps may think,
that this Joy is not a little heightened by seeing a
church set apart to the particular sect to which I am
said to belong. But I trust, that what you have this
day heard will satisfy most if not all who hear, that it
is not a sectarian exultation to which I am giving ut¬
terance. I indeed take pleasure in thinking, that the
particular views which I have adopted of the disputed
doctrines of religion will here be made known ; but I
rejoice much more in thinking, that this house is pledg¬
ed to no peculiar doctrines, that it is not erected to
bind my own or any man's opinions on this or on fu¬
ture times, that it is consecrated to free investigation
of religious truth, to religious progress, to the right of
private judgment, to protestant and christian liberty.
Most earnestly do I pray that a purer theology, that
diviner illuminations, that a truer worship than can now
be found in our own or in any sect, may be the glory of
this house. We who now consecrate it to God, be¬
lieve in human progress. We do not say to the spirit
of truth; "Thus far and no farther." We reprobate
the exclusive, tyrannical spirit of the churches of this
age, which denounce as an enemy to Christianity, who-
5
34
ever in the use of his intellectual liberty, and in the
interpretation of God's word for himself, may differ
from the traditions and creeds which have been receiv¬
ed from fallible forefathers. We rear these walls not
to a sect, but to religious, moral, intellectual, protest-
ant, Christian liberty.
I rejoice that this temple of liberty is opened on
this spot. I feel that this town has a right to an es¬
tablishment, in which conscientious Christians may en¬
quire and speak without dreading the thunders of ex¬
communication, in which protestantism will not be
dishonored by the usurpations of the Romish church.
This island, like the state to which it belongs, was
originally settled by men, who came hither for liberty
of conscience, and in assertion of the right to interpret
for themselves the word of God. Religious freedom
was the very principle on which this town was founded,
and I rejoice to know, that the spirit of religious free¬
dom has never wanted champions here. I have recent¬
ly read a very valuable discourse, which was delivered
in this town about a century ago, and just a century
after the cession of this island to our fathers by the
Indians, and which breathes a liberality of thought and
feeling, a reverence for the rights of the understanding
and the conscience, very rare ,,at that time in other
parts of the country, and very far from being universal
now. Its author, the Reverend Mr. Callender, was
pastor of the first Baptist church in this place, the old¬
est of our churches, and it was dedicated to a descend¬
ant of the venerable Coddington; our first governor.
The spirit of religious liberty, which pervades this
discourse, has astonished as well as rejoiced me, and it
should thrill the hearts of this people. Let me read a
few sentences : —
" It must be a mean contracted way of thinking, to
' confine the favor of God, and the power of godliness
' to one set of speculative opinions, or any particular
' external forms of worship. How hard must it be to
35
' imagine, that all other Christians but ourselves, must be
' formal, and hypocritical, and destitute of the grace of
' God, because their education or capacity differs from
' ours, or that God has given them more or less light
' than to us ; though we cannot deny, they give the
'proper evidence of their fearing God by their working
'righteousness, and show their love to him by keeping
' what they understand he has commanded ; and though
' their faith in Christ Jesus purifies their hearts and
' works by love and overcomes the world. It would be
' hard to show, why liberty of conscience, mutual for-
' bearance and good will, why brotherly kindness and
' charity is not as good a centre of unity as a constrain-
' ed uniformity in external ceremonies or a forced sub-
' scription to ambiguous articles. Experience has dearly
' convinced the world that unanimity in judgment and
' affection cannot be secured by penal laws. Who can
' tell, why the unity of spirit in the bonds of peace is
' not enough for Christians to aim at ? And who can
' assign a reason why they may not love one another
' though abounding in their own several senses ? And
' why if they live in peace, the God of love and peace
' may not be with them ?
" There is no other bottom but this to rest upon, to
' leave others the liberty we should desire ourselves,
' the liberty wherewith Christ hath made them free."
Such was the liberal spirit expressed in this town a
hundred years ago. I would it were more common in
our own day.
Another noble friend of religious liberty threw a lus¬
tre on this island immediately before the revolution. I
mean the Reverend Dr. Styles, pastor of the Second
Congregational church, and afterwards President of
Yale College. This country has not perhaps produced
a more learned man. To enlarged acquaintance with
physical science he added extensive researches into phi¬
lology, history, and antiquities ; nor did his indefatigable
mind suffer âny opportunity to escape him of adding to
36
his rich treasures of knowledge. His virtues were pro¬
portioned to his intellectual acquisition. I can well
remember how his name was cherished among his
parishioners, after years of separation. His visit to
this place was to many a festival. When little more
than a child, I was present at some of his private
meetings with the more religious part of his former
congregation ; and I recollect how I was moved by the
tears and expressive looks with which his affectionate
exhortations were received. In his faith he was what
was called a moderate Calvinist ; but his heart was of
no sect. He carried into his religion the spirit of liber¬
ty which then stirred the whole country. Intolerance,
church-tyranny, in all its forms, he abhorred. He re¬
spected the right of private judgment, where others
would have thought themselves authorised to restrain it.
A young man to whom he had been as a father, one day
communicated to him doubts concerning the trinity.
He expressed his sorrow ; but mildly, and with undimin¬
ished affection told him to go to the scriptures, and to
seek his faith there and only there. His friendships
were confined to no parties. He desired to heal the
wounds of the divided church of Christ, not by a com¬
mon creed, but by the spirit of love. He wished to
break every yoke, civil and ecclesiastical, from men's
necks. To the influence of this distinguished man in
the circle in which I was brought up, I may owe in part
the indignation which I feel towards every invasion of
human rights. In my earliest years, I regarded no hu¬
man being with equal reverence. I have his form before
me at this moment almost as distinctly as if I had seen
him yesterday, so strong is the impression made on the
child through the moral affections.
Let me add one more example of the spirit of reli¬
gious freedom on this island. You may be surprised,
perhaps, when you hear me name in this connexion the
venerable man, who once ministered in this place, the
Reverend Dr. Hopkins. His name is indeed associated
37
with a stern and appalling theology, and it is true, that
he wanted toleration towards those who rejected his
views. Still in forming his religious opinions, he was
superior to human authority ; he broke away from hu¬
man creeds ; he interpreted God's word for himself ; he
revered reason, the oracle of God within him. His
system, however fearful, was yet built on a generous
foundation. He maintained that all holiness, all moral
excellence, consists in benevolence, or disinterested de-'
votion to the greatest good ; that this is the character
of God ; that love is the only principle of the divine
administration. He taught that sin was introduced into
the creation, and is to be everlastingly punished, because
evil is necessary to the highest good. To this govern¬
ment, in which the individual is surrendered to the well
being of the whole, he required entire and cheerful
submission. Other Calvinists were willing that their
neighbors should be predestined to everlasting misery
for the glory of God. This noble-minded man deman¬
ded a more generous and impartial virtue, and maintain¬
ed that we should consent to our own perdition, should
be willing ourselves to be condemned, if the greatest
good of the universe, and the manifestation of the divine
perfections should so require. True virtue, as he taught,
was an entire surrender of personal interest to the be¬
nevolent purposes of God. Self-love he spared in none
of its movements. He called us to seek our own hap¬
piness, as well as that of others, in a spirit of impartial
benevolence ; to do good to ourselves, not from self-
preference, not from the impulse of personal desires, but
in obedience to that sublime law, which requires us to
promote the welfare of each and all within our influence.
I need not be ashamed to confess the deep impression
which this system made on my youthful mind. I am
grateful to this stern teacher for turning my thoughts
and heart to the claims and majesty of impartial, uni¬
versal benevolence. From such a man, a tame acquies¬
cence in the established theology was not to be expected.
38
He indeed accepted the doctrine of predestination in its
severest form ; but in so doing he imagined himself a
disciple of reason as well as of revelation. He believed
this doctrine to be sustained by profound metaphysical
argumentation, and to rest on the only sound philosophy
of the human mind, so that in receiving it, he did not
abandon the ground of reason. In accordance with his
free spirit of inquiry, we find him making not a few
important ntodifications of Calvinism. The doctrine
that we are liable to punishment for the sin of our first
parent he wholly rejected ; and not satisfied with deny¬
ing the imputation of Adam's guilt to his posterity, he
subverted what the old theology had set forth as the
only foundation of divine acceptance, namely the impu¬
tation of Christ's righteousness or merits to the believer.
The doctrine that Christ died for the elect only, found
no mercy at his hands. He taught that Christ suffered
equally for all mankind. The system of Dr. Hopkins
was indeed an effort of reason to reconcile Calvinism
with its essential truths. Accordingly his disciples were
sometimes called, and willingly called. Rational Calvin-
ists. The impression which he made was much greater
than is now supposed. The churches of New-England
received a decided impression from his views ; and
though his name, once given to his followers, is no
longer borne, his influence is still felt. The conflict
now going on in our country, for the purpose of mitiga¬
ting the harsh features of Calvinism, is a stage of the
revolutionary movement to which he more than any man
gave impulse. / can certainly bear witness to the spirit
of progress and free inquiry which possessed him. In
my youth I preached in this house at the request of the
venerable old man. As soon as the services were closed,
he turned to me with an animated benignant smile, and
using a quaintness of expression which I need not repeat,
said to me, that theology was still imperfect, and that
he hoped I should live to carry it towards perfection.
Rare and most honorable liberality in the leader of a
39^
sect ! He wanted not to secure a'follower, but to impel
a young mind to higher truth. I feel, that ability has
not been given me to accomplish this generous hope ;
hut such quickening language from such lips, though it
could not give strength, might kindle desire, and elevate
exertion.— Thus the spirit of religious freedom has not
been wanting to this island. May this spirit, unawed
by human reproach, unfettered by human creeds, avail¬
ing itself gratefully of human aids, and above all looking
reverently to God for light, dwell in the hearts of those
who are to minister, and of those who shall worship
within these walls. May this spirit spread far and wide
and redeem the Christian world from the usurpations of
catholic and protestant infallibility, from uncharitahle-
ness, intolerance, persecution and every yoke which has
crushed the human soul.
I have done with the personal and the local. In
conclusion, let me revert for one moment to the great
topic of this discourse My friends, the spiritual
worship of which I have this day spoken, is something
real. There is a worship in the spirit, a worship very
different from standing in the church, or kneeling in
the closet, a worship which cannot he confined to set
phrases and asks not the clothing of outward forms, a
thirst of the soul for its Creator, an inward voice,
which our nearest neighbor cannot hear, hut which
pierces the skies. To the culture of this spiritual
worship, we dedicate this house. My friends, rest not
in offering breath, in moving the lips, in bending the
knee to your Creator. There is another, a nearer, a
happier intercourse with Heaven, a worship of love,
sometimes too full and deep for utterance, a union of
mind with him closer than all earthly friendships. This
is the worship to which Christ calls. Christ came
not to build churches, not to rear cathedrals with
Gothic arches, or swelling domes, but to dedicate the
human soul to God. When God " bows the heavens
40
and comes down," it is not that he may take up his
abode beneath the vault of a metropolitan temple, it is
not that he is drawn by majestic spires or by clouds
of fragrance, but that he may visit and dwell in the
humble, obedient, disinterested soul. This house is to
moulder away. Temples hewn from the rock will
crumble to dust, or melt in the last fire. But the in¬
ward temple will survive all outward change. When
winds and oceans and suns shall have ceased to praise
God, the human soul will praise him. It will receive
more and more divine inspiration, of truth and love ;
will fill with its benevolent ministry wider and wider
spheres ; and will accomplish its destiny by a progress
towards God as unlimited, as mysterious, as enduring
as Eternity.
41
Note to Page 15.
1 have not quoted the verses preceding those which I have extracted
from the Epistle to the Philippians, which are often quoted in proof of
Christ's supreme divinity, because it is acknowledged by learned men of
all denominations, that our translation of the most important clause is
incorrect, and a critical discussion of the subject would have been out of
place. I think, however, that no man, unacquainted with the eommon
theories, could read any translation and escape the impression, that Jesus
Christ is a derived, dependent, subordinate being, and a distinct being
from the Father. How plain is it, that in this passage Paul intends by the
terms " God " and " the Father," not Jesus Christ but another being ? How
plain is it, that, in the passage chosen as the text for this discourse, our
Saviour intended by these terms, not himself but another being ? What
other idea could his hearers receive ? What decisive proofs are furnished
by his constant habit of speaking of "the Father" and of " God," as an¬
other being, and of distinguishing himself from him ?
Note to Page 38.
I understand, that the interest, expressed by me in the character of Dr.
Hopkins, has surprised some of my townsmen of Newport, who knew him
only by report, or who saw him in their youth. I do not wonder at this.
He lived almost wholly in his study, and like very retired men, was the
object of little sympathy. His appearance was that of aman who had
nothing to do with the world. I can well recollect the impression which
he made on me when a boy, as he rode on horseback in a plaid gown
fastened by a girdle round his waist, and with a study cap on his head
instead of his wig. His delivery in the pulpit was the worst I ever met
with. Such tones never came from any human voice within my hearing.
He was the very ideal of bad delivery. Then I must say, the matter was
often as uninviting as the manner. Dr. Hopkins was distinguished by
nothing more than by faithfulness to his principles. He carried them out
to their full extent. Believing as he did in total depravity, believing that
there was nothing good or generous in human nature to which he could
make an appeal, believing that he could benefit men only by setting before
them their utterly lost and helpless condition, he came to the point without
any circumlocution, and dealt out terrors with an unsparing liberality.
Add to all this that his manners had a bluntness, partly natural, partly the
résuit of long seclusion in the country. We cannot wonder that such a
6
42
man should be set down as hard and severe. But he had a true benevo¬
lence, and what is more worthy of being noted, he was given to a facetious
style of conversation. Two instances immediately occur to me which
happened in my own circle. One day, he dined at my father's with a
young minister who was willing to comply with the costume of the day,
but whose modesty only allowed the ruffles to peep from his breast. The
Dr. said with good humor, " I don't care for ruffles ; but if I wore them,
I'd wear them like a man." I recollect that on visiting him one day when
he was about eighty years of age, I found his eyes much inflamed by read¬
ing and writing. I took the liberty to recommend abstinence from these
occupations. He replied smilingly with an amusing story and then added
" If my eyes wont study, no eyes for me." This facetiousness may seem to
some who are unacquainted with the world not consistent with the great
severity of his theology. But nothing is more common than this apparent
self-contradiction. 'The ministers, who deal most in terrors, who preach
doctrines which ought to make their flesh creep, and to turn their eyes
into fountains of tears, are not generally distinguished by their spare
forms or haggard countenances. "They take the world as easily as people
of a milder creed ; and this does not show that they want sincerity or
benevolence. It only shows how superficially men may believe in doc¬
trines, which yet they would shudder to relinquish. It shows how little
the import of language, which is thundered from the lips, is comprehen¬
ded and felt. I should not set down as hard-hearted a man, whose
appetite should be improved by preaching a sermon full of images and
threatenings of " a bottomless hell." The best meals are sometimes made
after such effusions. This is only an example of the numberless contra¬
dictions in human life. Men are every day saying and doing, from the
power of education, habit, and imitation, what has no root whatever in
their serious convictions. Dr. Hopkins, though his style of preaching and
conversation did not always agree, was a sincere benevolent man. I
remember hearing of his giving on a journey all he had to a poor woman.
On another occasion he contributed to some religious object a hundred
dollars, which he had received for the copy right of a book; and this he
gave from his penury, for he received no fixed salary, and depended in a
measure on the donations of friends for common comforts. When he
first established himself in Newport, he was brought into contact with
two great evils, the slave trade and slavery, in both of which a large part
of the inhabitants were or had been engaged. " His spirit was stirred in
him," and without " conferring with flesh or blood," without heeding the
strong prejudices and passions enlisted on the side of these abuses, he
bore his faithful testimony against them from the pulpit and the press.
Still more, he labored for the education of the colored people, and had
the happiness of seeing the fruits of his labors in the intelligence and
exemplary piety of those who came under his influence. Much as he
disapproved of the moderate theology of Dr. Styles, he cheerfully coop¬
erated with him in this work. Their names were joined to a circular for
obtaining funds to educate Africans as missionaries to their own country.
These two eminent men who, as I think, held no ministerial intercourse,
forgot their differences in their zeal for freedom and humanity.
Dr. Hopkins in conversing with me, on his past history, reverted more
frequently to his religious controversies than to any other event of his life,
and always spoke as a man conscious of having gained the victory ; and
m this, I doubt not, that he judged justly. He was true, as I have said, to
his principles, and carried them out fearlessly to their consequences;
43
whilst his oppouents wished to stop half way. Of course it was easy for
a practised disputant to drive them from their position. They had indeed
the advantage of common sense on their side, but this availed little at a
time, when it was understood that common sense was to yield to the
established creed. These controversies are most of them forgotten, but
they were agitated with no small warmth. One of the most important,
and which was confined to the Calvinists, turned on what were called the
" Means of Grace." The question was, whether the unregenerate could
do any thing for themselves, whether an unconverted man could, by
prayer, by reading the scriptures, and by public worship, promote his own
conversion, whether in a word, any means used by an unregenerate man
would avail to that change of heart on which his future happiness depen¬
ded. Dr. Hopkins, true to the fundamental principles of Calvinism, took
the negative side of the question. He maintained, that man, being wholly
depraved by nature, wholly averse to God and goodness, could do nothing
but sin, before the mighty power of God had implanted a new principle
of holiness within his heart ; that of course, his prayers and efforts before
conversion were sins and deserved tbe divine wrath ; that his very strug¬
gles for pardon, and salvation, wanting as they did a holy motive, spring¬
ing from the deep selfishness of an unrenewed soul, only increased his
guilt and condemnation. The doctrine was indeed horrible, but a plain,
necessary result of man's total corruption and impotence. I state this
controversy that the reader may know the kind of topics, in which the
zeal, and abilities of our fathers were employed. It also shews us, how
extremes meet. Dr Hopkins contended that no means of religion or
virtue could avail, unless used with a sincere love of religion and virtue.
In this doctrine, all liberal Christians concur. In their hands, however,
the doctrine wears an entirely different aspect, in consequence of then*
denial of total, original depravity, that terrible error, which drove Dr.
Hopkins to conclusions equally shocking to the reason, to common sense,
and to the best feelings of the heart.
The characteristic disposition of Dr. Hopkins to follow out his princi¬
ples was remarkably illustrated in a manuscript of his which was never
published, and which perhaps was suppressed by those who had the
charge of his papers in consequence of its leaning towards some of the
speculations of the infidel philosophy of the day in regard to Utility or the
General Good. It fell into my hands after his death, and struck me so
much that I think I can trust my recollections of it. It gave the author's
ideas of Moral Good. He maintained that the object of " Moral Good,"
the object on which virtue is fixed, and the choice of which constitutes
virtue, is " natural good," or the greatest possible amount of Enjoyment,
not our own enjoyment only, but that of the whole system of being. He
virtually, if not expressly set forth this " natural good," that is, happiness
in the simple sense of enjoyment, as the ultimate good, and made moral
good the means. I well recollect how, in starting from this principle he
justified eternal punishment. He affirmed that sin or selfishness (synon¬
ymous words in his vocabulary) tended to counteract God's system which
IS framed for infinite happiness, or tended to produce infinite miseiy. He
then insisted, that by subjecting the sinner to endless, that is, infinite mis¬
ery, this tendency was made manifest ; a correspondence was established
between the sin and the punishment ; and a barrier was erected against
sin, which was demanded by the greatness of the good menaced by the
wi-ong doer.
44
I have thrown together these recollections of a man, who has been
crowded out of men's minds by the thronging events and interests of our
time, but who must always fill an impoilant place in our ecclesiastical
history. He was a singularly blameless man, with the exception of in¬
tolerance towards those who differed from him. This he sometimes
expressed in a manner which to those unacquainted with him, seemed a
sign of any thing but benignity. In one point of view, I take pleasure in
thmking of him. He was an illusti-ation of the power of our spiritual
nature. In narrow circumstances, with few outward indulgences, in great
seclusion, he yet found much to enjoy. He lived in a world of thought,
above all earthly passions. He represented to himself, as the result of the
divine government, a boundless diffusion of felicity through the universe,
and contrived to merge in this the horrors of his theological system. His
doctrines indeed threw dark colors over the world around him ; but he
took refuge from the present state of things in the Millenium. The Mil¬
lenium was his chosen ground. If any subject of thought possessed him
above all othere, I suppose it to have been this. The Millenium was more
than a belief to him. It had the freshness of visible things. He was at
home in it. His book on the subject has an air of reality, as if written
from observation. He describes the habits and customs of the Millenium,
as one familiar with them. He enjoyed this future glory of the church
not a whit the less, because it was so much his own creation. The fun¬
damental idea, the germ he found in the scriptures, but it expanded in
and from his own mind. Whilst to the multitude he seemed a hard, dry
theologian, feeding on the thorns of controversy, he was living in a region
of imagination, feeding on visions of a holiness and a happiness, which
are to make earth all but Heaven. It has been my privilege to meet with
other examples of the same character, with men, who, amidst privation,
under bodily infirmity, and with none of those materials of enjoyment
which the multitude are sti-iving for, live in a world of thought, and enjoy
what affluence never dreamed of, men having nothing yet possessing all
things; and the sight of such has done me more good, has spoken more to
my head and heart, than many sermons and volumes. I have learned the
sufficiency of the mind to itself, its independence on outward things.
I regret that I did not use my acquaintance with Dr. Hopkins to get the
particulai-s of the habits and conversation of Edwards and Whitfield,
whom he knew intimately. I value the hints which I get about distin¬
guished men from their friends, much more than written accounts of them.
Most biographies are of little worth. The ti'ue object of a biography,
which is to give us an insight into men's characters, such as an intimate
acquaintance with them would have furnished, is little comprehended.
The sayings and actions of a man, which breathe most of what was indi¬
vidual in him, should be sought above all tilings by his historian ; and yet
most lives contain none or next to none of these. They are panegyrics,
not lives. No department of literature is so false as biography. The
object is, not to let down the hero ; and consequently what is most human,
most genuine, most characteristic in his history is excluded. Sometimes
one anecdote will let us into the secret of a man's soul more than all the
prominent events of his life. It is not impossible that some readers may
object to some of my notices of the stern theologian, to whom this note
refers, as too familiar. This seems to me their merit. They show that
be was not a mere theologian, that he had the sympathies of a man.
THREE DISCOURSES
PREACHED BEFORE
THE CONGREGATIONAL SOCIETY
IN WATERTOWN:
TWO,
UPON LEAVING THE OLD MEETING-HOUSE ;
AND ONE,
AT THE DEDICATION OF THE NEW.
BY CONVERS FRANCIS,
PASTOR OF THE CONGREGATIONAL SOCIETE IN WATERTOWN,
CAMBRIDGE :
FOLSOM, WELLS, AND THURSTON,
PRINTEBS TO THE DNIVERSITV.
1836.
THE MEMBERS
OF
THE CONGREGATIONAL SOCIETY IN WATERTOWN,
THESE DISCOURSES
ARE RESPECTFULLY AND AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED
BY
THE AUTHOR.
TWO
DISCOURSES
ON
TAKING LEAVE OF THE OLD MEETING-HOUSE
OF THE
CONGREGATIONAL SOCIETY IN WATERTOWN,
DELIVERED
SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 4TH, 1836.
DISCOURSE I.
Acts vii. 44. —" our fathers had the tabernacle of witness
in the wilderness."
The ancestral remembrances of the Jews were of
a kind peculiarly solemn. They were, in the strictest
sense, religious remembrances ; for it was religion that
formed the central point of interest in the whole his¬
tory of the nation. The leadings of God's special
providence might be traced, in lines not to be mis¬
taken, along the track of the past. When the people
were addressed, whether for encouragement or re¬
buke, the appeal was often made to the character and
doings of their ancestors. It was thus that the martyr
Stephen, in the bold words he uttered before he was
stoned to death, called the attention of his enraged
countrymen to the early days of their nation's story,
and said in this connexion, " Our fathers had the
tabernacle of witness in the wilderness." *
These words may fitly suggest a portion of the
reñections suitable to this day. Itis a day of peculiar
interest to us, as a body of Christian worshippers. It
is the last Sabbath, which we shall spend in this sanc¬
tuary, where we and those before us have so often
assembled for the most solemn purposes, that can
* In conformity with the Hebrew expression, of which the words in
the original of this passage are a version, " the tabernacle of assembly "
or " the tabernacle of instruction," would be a more correct translation.
8
DISCOURSE FIRST.
occupy the heart, — for communion with God and for
the welfarç of the soul. To no Christian can his cus¬
tomary place of worship be an object of indifference.
No man even of common sensibility, I think, can take
leave of it for ever, without feeling the occasion to he
full of affecting recollections. If we have been accus¬
tomed to come hither with a spirit in any degree
appropriate to the place, we cannot unmoved hid adieu
to the temple, in which year after year we have offered
our prayers to God, have sung his praises, and have
listened to the counsels and warnings of everlasting
truth. I cannot doubt that I shall have your sympa¬
thy, while I endeavour to direct your attention to some
of the thoughts, which crowd upon the mind, when we
are about to say farewell to this house of God, and to
transfer our religious associations to another spot.
The occasion will require a few historical notices.
On this subject, however, it will be unnecessary to
go into details, since I have already embodied and
published such particulars as could be gathered of our
local story.*
When the fathers of New England came to the
western wilderness, as the forlorn hope of freedom
and religion, the worship of God was their main con¬
cern. They scarcely felled the trees and cleared the
ground, to make room for their own dwellings, before
they selected a spot, on which to erect the humble
structure, that might serve as the sanctuary of God,
in whose name they had undertaken their great en¬
terprise. That fervent Christian faith, which had
borne them up under the ipg.QConoo> of persecution
* See " Historical Sketch of Watertown," &c. 1830.
DISCOURSE FIRST.
9
and privation at home, was transplanted as a vital
principle of spiritual action, when they came hither
" To scatter seeds of Life on barbarous shores."
We have reason to be thankful, that the religious sen¬
timent was thus brought to our land in fresh and
strong power, and was interwoven from the first with
all the principles, which lay at the foundation of the
infant community. It created that feeling of deep
interest in the sanctuary, which has hitherto been a
trait in the New England character, and which, I hope
in God, will never be effaced.*
We cannot ascertain the precise time, at which
the first place of public worship in Watertown was
established. But it was undoubtedly coeval with the
original planting of the settlement. Cotton Mather,
in his account of the foundation of our church, says,
that the people here " resolved that they would com¬
bine into a church-fellowship as their first work, and
build the house of God, before they could build many
houses for themselves ; thus they sought first the
kingdom of God." f The earliest notice on this sub¬
ject in our Records, occurs in 1639, (nine years after
the settlement commenced,) by which it appears " the
meeting-house was appointed for a watch-house to
the use of the town," — an order that suggests an
idea of the danger and alarm, amidst which the little
* Kindred to tbis feeling, and alike worthy of imitation and transmis¬
sion, was the pains-taking care of our fathers, even amidst the poverty
and lowliness of their condition, to have a learned, gifted, and faithful
ministry. It was, observes Johnson, " as unnatural for a right New
England man to live without an able ministry, as for a smith to work
his iron without a fire."— Wonder-Working Providence, Book II. Ch. 22.
t Magnalia, Book III. Oh. 4.
2
10
DISCOURSE FIRST.
communities of New England were founded. This
first house of worship stood in the eastern part of the
town, towards Cambridge,* where, we may presume,
the largest part of the population was then gathered.
It was probably a rude and homely structure, such as
the circumstances of the settlers, and the Puritan taste,
allowed. But it was hallowed by the pious sincerity,
the truthful devotedness, of those whom the Sabbath
summoned within its walls. All the associations of
architectural grandeur would be but a poor exchange
for the recollection, that this forest sanctuary was
reared and occupied by men, who, however humble
their doings might' then seem, were called to act
their part in a signal work for the cause of righ¬
teousness and of religious freedom. As I have some¬
times in my walks lingered around that spot, I have
forgotten the present in the retrospect of two cen¬
turies, and have imagined the forms of those grave
and faithful Puritans, as they came on a Sabbath
morning from their lowly dwellings, accompanied by
their wives in matronly decency and their children in
well-ordered sobriety, their garb plain and their coun¬
tenances stern, saluting each other, as they met, with
stiff but friendly greetings, and directing their steps
with pious joy to the place of their solemnities. How
have manners and opinions changed since that time !
How rapid has been the developement of social progress
among us ! The simplicity of ancient days is not to be
expected amidst the refinement, the bustling enter¬
prise, the various improvements, of the present period ;
but may we not wish that we had retained more of
* On a little hül nearly opposite to the old grave-yard.
DISCOURSE FIRST.
11
the devoted sincerity, the sentiment of reverence,
which warmed and hallowed the hearts of those men
of the olden time ?
This first meeting-house remained the only one
till 1696. But meanwhile an attempt had been made
in 1654 to erect a new one. Arrangements for that
purpose, in pursuance of an order passed at a town
meeting, were entered into, and the plan and amount
of expense agreed upon. But from some cause, which
does not appear, nothing was done ; and the people
continued to assemble at the old house.
In 1692, another movement was made respecting
the place of worship. At this time, the town was
divided into three interests or parties, the East end,
the Middle part, and the West end. After much dis¬
cussion and agitation, a new meeting-house was built
in the Middle part ; and on the 4th of February,
1696-7, it was accepted by a vote of the town.
When the sum of two hundred and ninety-five
pounds was assessed upon the inhabitants, in 1698-9,
to defray the expenses of the last-mentioned house,
" the Farmers," as they were designated, were ex¬
empted from the tax, " because," as the record ex¬
presses it, "they have built a meeting-house more
convenient for themselves." By "the Farmers" were
meant those, who lived in that part of Watertown,
which is now Weston. From this notice it appears,
that they likewise were engaged in building a new
meeting-house, probably on account of their great dis¬
tance from the other places of worship. It was not
finished, so as to be used for religious services, till
March 1700-1.
There were now three meeting-houses in the
12
DISCOURSE FIRST.
town, — the old one at the East end, and the two
new ones, of which one was in the Middle part, and
the other in the West end among "the Farmers."
Weston was incorporated as a distinct town in Jan¬
uary, 1712-13, leaving two meeting-houses in Water-
town. Waltham was incorporated in January, 1737
-8. Its boundary line on this side came very near
to the meeting-house in the Middle part of Watertown,
including a large proportion of those who worshipped
in that house. The establishment in the Middle part
was soon broken up, and a large part of those who
had belonged to it were absorbed into Waltham, and
worshipped at the house, which had recently been
erected there, previously to its incorporation as a dis¬
tinct town, in conformity with a report of a committee
of the General Court, to whom application had been
made by the inhabitants of the town for the purpose
of settling a boundary line between the two precincts,
and deciding with respect to their respective places of
worship.
By the same report, the people of the East part or
precinct, were required, within ten years, to remove
their place of worship to the high ground called »ScÄoo/-
House Hill. This was accordingly done. The old
church at the East end was abandoned, and a new one
built on what w^as then called School-House Hill, but
is now known by the name of Meeting-House Hill.*
The territory, which was left under the name of
Watertown, had now but one meeting-house, situated
* It was first used for religious services in February, 1725-6, as I
learn from the following notice by the Rev. Mr. Storer in one of his old
almanacs : — " Feb'y 7: 1725. I preached all day at the new meeting¬
house from the 26 Psalm, 8 v., it being the first time we assembled there
to engage in the public worship of God."
DISCOURSE FIRST.
13
on the highest point of land in the town. Thus mat¬
ters remained for about thirty years, when a warm
altercation occurred in consequence of a proposal to
remove the place of worship from the hill. This was
finally effected ; and the next change was to the
present spot. The house, in which we are now as¬
sembled, was completed as early as February, 1755.
With the exception of the part, which, as you recollect,
was added in 1819, it is now something more than
81 years old. No person is living in the town, whose
memory goes back to the time when it was built.
This is the sixth Congregational meeting-house which
has been built in Watertown since its first settlement,
including those which were erected before the incor¬
poration of Weston and Waltham; if we confine the
estimate within the territory now included under the
name of Watertown, this is the fourth Congregational
meeting-house since the original settlement.
The brief retrospection, to which we have now
been led, suggests a circumstance that ought to be
mentioned, as bearing honorable testimony to the
Christian spirit of the men, by whom our church was
founded and continued. I refer to the character of
the first covenant to which they set their names. That
instrument of religious union, which on the 30th of
July, 1630, as Mather tells us, "about forty men,
whereof the first was that excellent knight Sir Richard
Saltonstall, subscribed, in order to their coalescence
into a church-estate," was expressed in terms suf¬
ficiently simple and broad to include the sincere Chris¬
tian of any denomination.* It is wholly exempt from
* See the covenant in "Historical Sketch of Watertown," p. 134.
14 DISCOURSE FIRST.
a sectarian spirit, introduces no disputed doctrines as
the test of Christian fellowship, and expresses the
engagement to cleave to the word of God alone, as
" the infallible rule and all-sufficient canon." It is dis¬
tinguished by an earnest tone of religious feeling, and
by a hearty devotedness to the cause of Christ ; but
it betrays no disposition to impose articles of belief,
or to insist on agreement in doubtful points as a pre¬
liminary to Christian association. They, who framed
it, seem to have felt so deeply the practical importance
of their work, that they thought only of the solemn
obligation, by which they were bound to serve their
God and their Saviour, in all singleness of heart and
all purity of purpose. I rejoice to say, that, so far as
I know, such has been the character of the covenants
in our church from that time to the present day ; and
such may it ever be.
There are many instances of a similar kind among
the earliest ecclesiastical transactions of New England.
About fifty years after the landing at Plymouth, the
church in Plymouth renewed their Christian engage¬
ments by a covenant, which they declare to be " the
substance of that which their fathers entered into at
the first gathering of the church : " it is as broad and
liberal in its terms as any Christian of whatever name
could desire. The same is true of the covenant
adopted by the ancient church at Salem, — the first
whose organization took place in this country,—and
likewise of the original covenant of the first church in
Boston. In the declaration of faith, they require
nothing which may not be conscientiously professed by
every sincere Christian. Thus faithfully do our fathers
seem, in this respect at least, to have imbibed the
DISCOURSE FIRST.
15
spirit of the admirable advice given by John Robinson,
in 1620, to those of his congregation who were about
to embark for New England. " I beseech you," said
that excellent man, " remember it is an article of your
church covenant, that you be ready to receive what¬
ever truth shall be made known to you from the writ¬
ten word of God."
It may be alleged, I am aware, that the conduct of
our fathers on some occasions was not in accordance
with the promise of Christian liberality, which these
covenants would seem to hold out. I shall not enter
on the discussion of " the vexed question " concern¬
ing the light, in which their persecuting spirit is to be
viewed. The display of bigotry, which darkens the
pages of their history, does indeed evince that they,
like the rest of the world, had not reached the broad
foundations, on which the true doctrine of toleration
rests. But the principles, on which they formed their
ecclesiastical organizations, are none the less worthy
of praise, and prove that they, unconsciously perhaps,
recognised a theory of religious comprehension, the
true meaning of which was wider than their practice,
and perhaps wider than they themselves, in the homo¬
geneous character of their sentiments at that time,
suspected. They had brought with them from their
father-land a keen sense of the iniquity of tyranny
over conscience, at least in their own case ; and of
this feeling, however imperfect as a principle of action,
we find a manifestation in that disposition to lay a
broad and generous foundation for their ecclesiastical
associations, which we may observe in their church
covenants. From whatever source this disposition
emanated, it should at least teach us a good lesson
16
DISCOURSE FIRST.
never to be forgotten ; for, if on one occasion more
than another the narrow terms of sectarian exclusive-
ness are out of place, they are so when set as a
barrier to repel a fellow Christian from the table of
Christ.
There is another remembrance, which it is pleasant
to connect with the history of our church, — I mean
the remembrance of its pastors. Its first four minis¬
ters, Phillips, Knowles, Sherman, and Bailey, were
educated in England, and were men of very high
reputation for talents, learning, and piety. Had they
remained at home, and conformed to the Church of
England, their gifts and acquirements were such as
might have secured to them some of the high honors
of that rich and venerable establishment. But, firmly
and at the cost of all sacrifices, they adhered to what
they believed to be their duty ; they paused not upon
the question, whether they should obey the voice of
conscience rather than the call of interest ; in the true
spirit of self-denial and of unfeigned humility, these
distinguished men were content to leave all the ad¬
vantages of their native land, and were happy in
spending their fife and labors with this little flock in
the wilderness. They were no rude or ignorant fa¬
natics, with whom banishment to a distant land might
involve no sacrifice of the pleasures of refinement.
They brought hither with them the ripe fruits of Eng¬
lish learning, a love of English improvements, and the
blessings of English piety. We owe them that rever¬
ent tribute of remembrance, which belongs to unques¬
tionable piety, uncomplaining sacrifice of self, and
heroic devotedness to duty. It is a poor philosophy,
which would lead us, in the wild and vaporing boast
DISCOURSE FIRST.
17
of modern improvement, to look back disparagingly on
men like them, as if their virtues were but the twilight
virtues of a dark and enthralled age. It is a false esti¬
mate. They were enlightened and holy men, of large
and richly furnished minds. It will be well, if God
grant us the wisdom to retain the good influences, which
their principles spread amidst the forming elements of
our social state. I love to contemplate the mild and
faithful ñrmness of Phillips, of whom Winthrop has re¬
corded, that he was "a godly man, specially gifted, and
very peaceful in his place, much lamented of his own
people and others,"— the fervent industry and Chris¬
tian simplicity of Knowles, — the profound learning, the
hallowed talents, the rich eloquence of Sherman, " the
golden-mouthed preacher,"—the warm piety and irre¬
proachable purity of Bailey. When I add to these,
among their successors, the virtues and graces of An-
gier, Gibbs, Storer, and Adams, and when I look back
to the earliest period of our story, and find among the
laymen the highly and most justly honored name of Sir
Richard Saltonstall, who made a bold and noble plea
against the bigotry of the times, * I feel that our church
can point, on the records of her history, to men, whose
characters and abilities would grace the annals of any
community, and I bless God for such examples of wis¬
dom and of devoted piety.
On this occasion we must not forget, that there are
patriotic as well as religious associations connected
with the house, in which we are assembled. Amidst
the opening scenes of our revolution, this place
claims to be remembered with historical interest, as a
• See Appendix to "Historical Sketch of Watertown," p. 135.
3
18
DISCOURSE FIRST.
place where counsel was taken in the hour of danger.
In 1775, the second Provincial Congress of Massachu¬
setts adjourned from Concord to Watertown, and as¬
sembled in this meeting-house. This was in April.
Joseph Warren, Esquire, whom the cause of freedom
numbered among its earliest and most lamented mar¬
tyrs in the contest, was President of the Congress.
In this session committees were appointed to collect
evidence, and draw up an account, concerning the
transactions of the 19th of April. The third and last
Provincial Congress assembled in this meeting-house.
A sermon was preached here before them by the
President of the College, and the session continued
till the 19 th of July.
This body was succeeded by the General Court, or
General Assembly of the Colony, who likewise con¬
vened in this meeting-house, and held their sessions
here till they adjourned to the State-House in Boston.
In 1776, the fifth of March was commemorated, by
the people of Boston and others, in the Watertown
meeting-house, on which occasion a much applauded
oration was delivered by the Rev. Mr. Thacher of
Maiden. In 1778, this place became again the seat of
government for a short time, in consequence of the
prevalence of the small-pox in Boston. On the 2nd
of June, the House of Representatives met here by
adjournment, and held the remainder of their session.
Such is the connexion in which this house stands
with a crisis of fearful interest in the history of our coun¬
try. When we look back to " the times which tried
men's souls," let us thankfully remember, that the walls,
within which we are now assembled, echoed the voice
of freemen, deliberating for the common good in the
DISCOURSE FIRST.
19
dark hour of their country's struggle; that here they sat,
day after day, with the awful uncertainty of a tremen¬
dous contest before them, and a prospect on which the
stoutest heart scarcely dared long to dwell. I repre¬
sent to myself those honored men, as they entered at
that door with countenances darkened by deep anxie¬
ty, but full of unyielding resolution ; I see them take
their assigned places ; I hear the voice which calls
them to the business of the day ; they seem like men
who feel that the eyes of the whole Colony are upon
them ; I listen to the counsels of the wise, and the
bold words of the ardent ; and I remember that here
were some of the doubtful beginnings of that great
struggle, which, by the blessing of God, closed by
adding another to the independent nations of the
world. Let us rejoice that patriotism and religion
have intertwined the associations, which consecrate
the remembrance of this old church.
How soon does time give a peaceful and hallowed
character to the past! We look back, as upon the
olden days of our country, to the period when the ven¬
erable Puritans of whom I have spoken, with the gener¬
ations whom they faithfully served, fell asleep in Jesus.
We see, in the dimness of the past, the shadowy forms
of a grave, thoughtful, stern race of men, feeding the
flame of an earnest inward life amidst the stillness of
nature around them, when as yet the sounds of enter¬
prise and the rush of business rung not through the
land, and binding fast to their hearts the everlasting
hopes of the Gospel, while engaged in the quiet labors
of the wilderness. Their dust is mingled with the
earth, in which that of our own parents and our own
children reposes. Rapidly indeed do the generations
20
DISCOURSE FIRST.
of men come and pass away. We need not go abroad
over the world for illustrations. We find them near at
hand. Limit your view, for instance, to this village
during the two hundred and six years that have elaps¬
ed since its settlement. How many generations of
your ancestors, or predecessors, in this place, have gone
up to their houses of worship from Sahhath to Sab¬
bath, as we now go, and have gone down to their nar¬
row house in the dust, as we likewise shall soon go.
They toiled for themselves and their families, one on
his farm, another in his trade ; they reared their chil¬
dren amidst the pleasures and disappointments, the
hopes and trials, of parental anxiety, and sent them forth
to take their places in society ; then they silently drop¬
ped away, one by one ; the old race was gone, and a
new one came in their place, soon themselves old, to
pass through the same round, and to descend at last to
the same dust. When I have wandered through our
grave-yards, where
" The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep,"
and have marked the inscriptions, here a century and
a half old, and there bearing date last year or last month,
some grave-stones so sunken in the earth and so moss-
covered, that the tale of mortality upon them is with
difficulty legible, and others standing erect, with fresh
earth around them and bright letters upon them ; when
I have bent over the tombs of the pastors of other days,
surrounded now by the congregation of the dead, as
they once were by the congregation of the living,—I
have thought there was an emphasis I never before
felt in the Apostle's words, " The fashion of this world
passeth away ; " and from this miniature picture of hu-
DISCOURSE FIRST,
21
man decay, on a small spot in a single country, I have
endeavoured to realize what would be the effect of the
vast panorama of man's changes all over the earth,
could they be gathered into a single view.
The thoughts, which hover around the recollection
of ancient days, as suggested by the history of Chris¬
tian worship, are numerous and affecting. We can¬
not recall or reproduce the outward or inward form of
man's life in those days ; nor ought we to do it, if we
could, for it was a form which belonged to a genera¬
tion long since gathered to their fathers, and which
had its place then in the developement of society, as
ours has its place now. But we may and should seek
to keep alive as much of the spirit of those times, as is
congenial with new modes of thought and action ; for,
in its essential elements, it was a wise and holy spirit.
We may contrast their simplicity with our refinement,
their scanty means with our abundant resources ; but
we must remember, that the principles, which make
their character venerable in our eyes, are the same at
all times, however different may be the applications.
The men of old days were poor and plain ; but they
were righteous and true to their God in the midst of
their poverty and plainness. When I bring before my
imagination the rude and simple building, where our
predecessors worshipped their God two centuries ago,
and compare it with that beautiful edifice, which we
hope in a few days to dedicate to the service of reli¬
gion, I am reminded of the remark made by St. Wul-
stan, bishop of Worcester in England, in the eleventh
century, when his cathedral church was about to be
pulled down to make room for one of larger dimensions
and greater splendor. The bishop dwelt with sad
22
DISCOURSE FIRST.
interest on the associations connected with the ancient
cathedral, and said, " That happy age of the holy men,
our forefathers, knew not how to build stately church¬
es ; but under any roof they offered up themselves
living temples unto God, and by their examples incited
those under their care to do the same." God grant,
that the devout spirit of primitive days may he trans¬
mitted to the latest generation who shall worship on the
soil of New-England.
While, then, we prepare to bid farewell to this house
of worship, let us cherish the recollection, that our
church, built as it is " on the foundation of the proph¬
ets and apostles, Jesus Christ himself being the chief
corner-stone," is no growth of yesterday, but is the
church of the Pilgrim Fathers, planted in the midst of
their sufferings, watered by their tears, and blessed by
their prayers. Hallowed be their memory in this con¬
nexion ! There is a moral dignity imparted to the his¬
tory 'even of a village church, when we view it as mark¬
ing the line, along which, year after year, by a silent
transmission from heart to heart, the spiritual influences
of God have been conveyed, in which comfort and edi¬
fication have been carried to many a humble soul,
in which the afflicted have been consoled, the weak
strengthened, and the sinner brought to a sense of God
and duty. Let us, on the present occasion especially,
connect our church with the memory of the past, that
our hearts may cleave fast and strong to its interests,
that our best and purest affections may gather around
it, that we may love it, not only for its own sake, but
for the sake of the good men, who for two centuries
have labored for it. Let it be a tie of union, a bond of
blessing, between us and the congregation of the dead
DISCOURSE SECOND.
23
on the one hand, and the generations that are yet to
advance from the depth^of the future, on the other.
Let us pray and labor for its prosperity. Never let its
interests be late in our thoughts, or low in our aíFec-
tions. Let not the hurry of worldly pursuits, or the
eagerness of selfish gratifications, banish from our
hearts the house of God and the church of the Saviour;
for, if such a feeling should prevail in our land, on our
walls the hand of truth would inscribe with fearful
meaning — " The glory thereof hath departed."
DISCOURSE II.
Psalms, xlviii. 9. "we have thought of thy loving-kindness,
o god, in the midst of thy temple."
Some of the finest strains of Hebrew poetry were
inspired by the reverent joy associated with the tem¬
ple of God. No book in the world contains so admira¬
ble a treasury of the language of devotion, as the Book
of the Psalms. It is full of the outpourings of gratitude
and penitence, of love and trust, of " thoughts that
breathe and words that burn." In the earliest ages,
the patriarchs, in the simplicity of pastoral life, erected
an altar on some spot, where the mercy or the glory of
Jehovah had peculiarly rested, perhaps in the wilder¬
ness, or beside their flocks in the field, and there pre¬
sented such offerings or sacrifices as nature furnished.
After this remarkable people had gone forth from
Egypt, the tabernacle was pitched, and an apparatus of
religious ceremonies began to be formed, till in process
24
DISCOURSE SECOND.
of time the son of David erected that magnificent
temple, which was the pride, and the boast of every
Jew, and where the music of praise and the voice of
prayer rolled round the walls, and swelled forth to the
Most High. Then might they truly say, in the words
of the sacred poet, "We have thought of thy loving-
kindness, 0 God, in the midst of thy temple." Our
worship is attended with none of that imposing pomp
of ritual service. But in forms more simple, yet not
less affecting to religious sensibility, we have one day
in seven, on which the thronging demands of the world
may be dismissed from the heart, and on which the
feelings, that had been heated by the contests or irri¬
tated by the mischances of life, may find repose. On
the same day, perhaps at the same hour, thousands and
ten thousands of our fellow Christians go up to the
sanctuary, there to worship the same God, to cherish
their reverence for the same Saviour, and to seek guid¬
ance and strength in travelling the same path to heav¬
en. In a higher sense than the Jews of old attached
to the words, may we say, "We have thought of thy
loving-kindness, O God, in the midst of thy temple."
In my morning discourse, I suggested to you some
of those recollections and feelings, which the ancient
history of our church should awaken, now that we are
to take leave of this place of our solemnities. But
there are other thoughts appropriate to the occasion,
which should not be passed without notice ; I mean
the thoughts, which relate immediately to ourselves, or
to those who, in our own day, have gone from their
connexion with us here into the unseen world.
The monitions of human frailty need not be sought
among far distant generations ; they are near at hand.
DISCOURSE SECOND.
25
and may be found among those, who walk side by
side with us on the journey of life. Since we, who
now live, have assembled from Sabbath to Sabbath in
this house of God, how many of those, who were wont
to meet us here, have passed from the worship of the
sanctuary, and from the trials or enjoyments of earth, to
the judgment of another world. How many of these
very seats, which we occupy, have been emptied by
death, and filled again by new actors amidst the busy
scenes of life. Of those, who have thus disappeared
from their accustomed places, many were bound to
the hearts of survivors by the strongest and dearest
ties. Children have been separated from their parents,
and parents from their children, —the husband from the
wife, and the wife from the husband,—the brother from
the sister, and the sister from the brother. How often
have we come hither to pray for the consolations of
Christian faith, when death has taken away those, who,
but a few weeks before, had sat by our side in these
pews, and joined with us in these solemn services.
The faces, which we have seen, we see no more ; the
hands, which have been reached forth in friendly greet¬
ing, have crumbled into dust. Truly, when you cast
your thoughts back even for a few years, you find with¬
in the walls of the sanctuary a silent, but most affect¬
ing, testimony to the ceaseless fulfilment of the ancient
sentence, "Dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou
return."
Others have gone from their places in the sanctuary
to the grave, with whom we stood only in the common
relations of social intercourse. We were accustomed
to meet them in the transactions of business, in the
pleasant interchange of daily courtesies or the civilities
4
26
DISCOURSE SECOND.
of good neighbourhood, and here amidst the solemnities
of God's house. They dropped away from the midst
of us, and we have rushed on, and perhaps forgotten
them. With others we were connected by the ties of
peculiar religious fellowship. We met them at the ta¬
ble of the Lord, and joined with them in the solemn
rite consecrated to the memory of him, who loved us
and gave himself for us, till they passed, as we hope,
to the communion of the just made perfect in the up¬
per world. There were others again, towards whom,
among the competitions and interfering interests of life,
we had allowed ourselves to cherish less friendly and
pleasant feelings ; for sad it is to think, that our days,
few and full of painful trial as they unavoidably are,
will be sometimes embittered by unnecessary strife and
by ill will, which can be remembered only with pain.
But they too, on whom we thus turned cold or
hostile looks, have gone the way whence they can¬
not return, and jealousy or enmity has been hushed
in the dark stillness of the grave. " Death," says one,
" imposes silence, and so at last these fierce passions
of their minds, and these inveterate contentions, are
composed to rest by the weight of a little dust thrown
upon them." *
These are among the serious recollections, which
throng upon the mind, when we are about to bid fare-
* Leighton's Works, IV. 296. Leighton here beautifully alludes to the
lines in Virgil, Georg. IV. 86 and 87. The same passage is applied by
Dr. Parr to the death of Fox and Pitt. See Characters of Fox, ifc.
p. 309. — Scougal (Works, p. 112,) expresses the thought as follows;
" Naturalists tell us, that when swarms of bees fight in the air, they are
dispersed by throwing dust among them. Did we in our thoughts often
reflect upon that dust whereunto we must all shortly return, we should
more easily lay down our quarrels and animosities."
DISCOURSE SECOND.
27
well to our old place of worship. As it forms the ral¬
lying point of a common interest, so it admonishes us
of our common frailty by reminding us how many of
our fellow worshippers, during even the few years of
our attendance in this place, have joined the vast con¬
gregation of the dead. There is a thoughtful sadness
inspired by the rapid disappearance of the generations
of men, unlike the feeling with which we contemplate
other aspects of decay or change. The revolutions of
things merely material do not affect us so much.
Mountains have been rent asunder, or fragments have
been torn from them, — rivers have been turned aside
from their deep beds, — the restless ocean has beat
and encroached upon the firm continent, — forests
have gone down silently to the dust, and a new growth
has sprung up in their place, to fall likewise in its own
time, — the stately edifices, which pride or taste had
reared, have crumbled down, and decay has sat in tri¬
umph over them till they are remembered no more.
Thus desolation or change proceeds with a progress,
that may not be stayed ; and these things we regard
with wonder or with anxious curiosity. But it is with
a different and peculiar feeling, that we mark the wast¬
ing invasions of mortality among that company of be¬
ings of whom we constitute a part, that we see them
move over the earth for their brief day, and then van¬
ish into silence and death. It is with another kind of
interest, that we witness the ravages of resistless dis¬
solution among those, who, before time took its last
step, were as busy and eager as we are now, whose
hopes were as bright, whose feelings as warm, whose
relish of pleasure as keen, as ours, — who were made
happy by success and sad by disappointment, as we
28
DISCOURSE SECOND,
are, — who enjoyed God's beautiful creation, and were
chastened by his dispensations, — who breathed the
fresh air of heaven with us, and over whom suns rose
and went down. There is here a lesson healthful and
quickening to our virtue. Heedless passion stands
awe-struck before it ; vice feels abashed at the con¬
templation of it ; sensual indulgence is rebuked by its
admonition; all serious, chastened, manly sentiments
grow stronger by it ; diligence in every good work is
stimulated; the fever of earthly passion is cooled down;
hope is regulated; fear is made more rational ; and the
whole moral man becomes more pure in desire, more
elevated in purpose, more just in expectation.
But the view, suggested by this retrospection,
must not be limited to the mere consideration of
man's frailty. There is a higher and better thought.
All those, our associates, who have passed from the
house of God to the narrow house appointed for
all the living, were immortal beings. The story of
dust and ashes is not the whole of their story. The
meaning of their existence was not limited by the
grave. All was not over, when they had finished the
routine of earthly cares, earthly hopes, and earthly
fears. The same sanctuary, which reminds us that
they have gone from us, likewise reminds us that they
lived under the dispensation of that truth, which brings
" life and immortality to light." If we say only, with
the ancient proverb, "Man is a bubble," we make
but a miserably defective, and therefore an untrue,
statement. Man not only has a soul, but is a soul ;
and nothing connected with his existence has any real
significance, except so far as it expresses or cherishes
the action of his inward life. Till you have seen
DISCOURSE SECOND.
29
eternity written on the whole frame of his being, you
have not understood that being ; nor, without this inter¬
pretation, can you ever understand it. He belongs to
God ; he belongs to the Saviour ; he belongs to the
spiritual world ; he belongs to that law of duty, which
is God's law, — to those hopes, and that improvement,
whose objects are infinite, whose course is immeas¬
urable. When, therefore, we think of the fellow wor¬
shippers, whom we have followed to the grave, let us
think of them in connexion with that religion of Christ,
those truths of the Gospel, to which they were accus¬
tomed to listen in this place. They have stepped over
the mysterious line, which divides the form of exist¬
ence we see, from that which we cannot see. They
have passed to the other side of the dark curtain,
which is dropped between the life that now is and
that which is to come. We see them no more; we
hear them no more ; but life with them is still mani¬
fested in new forms, and has now grown into larger
activity. Of many we hope and believe, that they
have gone from the imperfect services of this place to
the higher and holier services of Heaven, — that they
died in the blessing of that hope which maketh not
ashamed, and have exchanged the toils of probation
for the rewards of glory. Perhaps they look back on
the influences they found within these walls, as among
the precious means, by which they were trained to a
state of preparation for the joys that no eye hath seen,
no ear heard, and no heart conceived. Here then,
my friends, is a thought full of solemn interest to us.
Be it our care so to improve the means of grace we
are permitted to enjoy, that we may live the life, which
we live in the flesh, by faith in the Son of God, and
30
DISCOURSE SECOND.
that they who shall worship in our places, when we
are gone, may have reason to say of us, " Blessed are
the dead who die in the Lord : yea, saith the Spirit,
that they may rest from their labors, and their works
do follow them."
But, my hearers, there is a still nearer application to
be made of the thoughts suggested by this occasion.
We have a personal interest in the recollections be¬
longing to this house. When we are about to take
leave of our accustomed place of worship, there are
questions of solemn import, which press themselves
upon our attention, and demand an answer from us as
from moral and accountable beings. It is a time for
that self-examination, which relates to the use of spir¬
itual privileges. In the quiet atmosphere enclosed
within these w^alls, I hear, as it were, a voice which
summons us all to ask ourselves, what testimony has
gone hence concerning us to the judgment seat above.
When we look back on the past, over the long hst of
Sabbaths, on which we have regularly assembled here,
can we forget the purposes, which have brought Us
together, and can we fail to ask whether these pur¬
poses have been in any good degree accomplished?
All that we can conceive as most holy in duty, most
sublime in the tendencies or most elevated in the
hopes of man, stands related to the sanctuary, as to a
central point of interest. We come hither to worship
Him, who formed man in his own image, and whose
inspiration gave him understanding, to recognise and
cherish that great distinction of our spiritual nature,
our relation to the Infinite and the Eternal, to bow
down before the throne of grace, while we present
the sacrifice of the broken and the contrite heart, and
DISCOURSE SECOND.
31
say, " God be merciful to us sinners," to bring our
holiest aíFections to divine truth, as the soul's life,
and as' the source of wisdom unto salvation. "What
are the other objects we pursue, the other purposes for
which we live, compared with these 1 Our attendance
in the house of God is so much a matter of old cus¬
tom, even from childhood, that the apprehension of its
great meaning grows dull and dead. We need to be
startled into a quickening sense of its true nature.
During the past years in which we have been wont to
meet each other here, we might have been addressed
in the impressive words of one, whose name is held in
hallowed remembrance by our churches, with the
questions, " In whose presence are we assembled ?
Of a few friends only, who have chosen this mode of
passing an easy hour ; of a preacher, a poor mortal
like yourselves, who is placed here to furnish some¬
thing for your curiosity ? Are these the only beings,
that belong to this place ? 0 no ; here we stand be¬
fore the Majesty of heaven and earth, whose presence
fills immensity ; we come to pay our homage to him,
who liveth for ever and ever, the support of all nature.
We stand before a God of purity inexpressible, and of
mercy everlasting. We come to learn the will of Him,
on whom our poor life every moment depends ; we
come, to throw ourselves on his compassion, to confess
our sins, to devote ourselves to his service through
Jesus Christ, and to learn what he has revealed to us
of himself, of ourselves, and of our destination. This
is the threshold of a more glorious temple in the heav¬
ens ; this is an entrance to the world, in which God
discovers himself to the eye of man. In a few years,
these privileges will have passed away ; your prayers
32
DISCOURSE SECOND.
will ascend here no more ; no more will the word of
God reach your ears from this place; the follies of
your attendance cannot be retrieved ; lost opportuni¬
ties cannot be recalled ; and all that ingratitude and
neglect, to which these walls have been a witness, will
rise up before you, and reproach you with unutterable
sorrow." *
And do these walls, my friends, now that we are
about to bid farewell to them, signify this psdnful re¬
proach against us? Let us consider the purposes of
the sanctuary, as they have just been described, and
then answer the question honestly, for it is no light
or vain question.
When we look back on the time, during which our
names have been connected with this place, as
Christian worshippers, have we suffered ourselves,
from indolence or indifference, to neglect the institu¬
tions of the Sabbath? Have poor and slender excuses
appeared sufficiently weighty to satisfy rising scruples,
or to sooth conscience, in the midst of such neglect ?
Have the claims of public worship and religious in¬
struction seemed so old and hackneyed a theme, that
it has been difficult for us to bring our minds fairly to
consider the subject at all ? Has it really been to us
a light and trivial thing, whatever outward decorum
we may have observed respecting it? Have the ex¬
cuses, which have prevailed with us to desert the
house of God, been such as would have induced us
for a moment to abandon the pursuit of gain? Have
we really thought it a matter of as much, — I say not
of more, —but of as much consequence to answer the
* Buckminster's Sermons. Boston. 1815. p. 192.
DISCOURSE SECOND.
33
demands of duty here, as to answer the calls of
business elsewhere 1 Perhaps the testimony of con¬
science on these points may be the record of habitual
faithfulness, of watchful interest, in the public services
of religion. God grant it may be so to many. But
let those to whom it is far otherwise, pray and strive,
that, if lost opportunities of grace cannot be recalled,
yet future ones shall not be wasted to swell the fearful
account of neglected means.
Again, let us, while we review the past, inquire
whether we have here worshipped the Lord " in the
beauty of holiness." Have we brought hither the
unreserved homage of the heart, the unpolluted devo¬
tion of the soul 1 When we have entered these doors,
have we left behind the noisy or restless passions
which the pursuits and contests of life awaken, and
have we ceased to think of our gains, our resentments,
our schemes for pleasure or for profit ? Have we found
by our own experience, that the worship of God is
something better than a heavy duty-work, that it is
the glad oiFering of happy souls, the pleasant service
of cheerful and heaven-aspiring minds, — that its pur¬
poses are not to be answered by coldness or formality,
by bringing our bodies to the house of God, and leav¬
ing our affections somewhere else ? Have we felt, that,
in the presence of God, we stand in all the nakedness
of our real thoughts and feelings ; and that no lurking
insincerity, no indifference or unconcern, can escape
the eye of Omniscience, whose glance measures the
universel Have we drawn nigh to the sanctuary
with that preparation of heart and spirit, which gives
an animating and sanctifying power to the hours spent
here? Have we left the cares, the passions, the
5
34
DISCOURSE SECOND.
tumult of the world behind us, when we have taken
our seats in this place, and said to them,
" To-morrow will be time enough
To feel your harsh control ;
Ye shall not violate this day,
The Sabbath of the soul."
In short, have we been persuaded that here was a
concern of infinite moment between God and our
souls? Let every one hear for himself what con¬
science has to say, as to these questions. If the re¬
port bear witness, that he has worshipped the Father
in spirit and in truth, let him pray for still increasing
purity in this respect. If the review should rebuke
him with the remembrance of carelessness, coldness,
formality, or hypocrisy, let him humble himself in
prayer for mercy, and for more fervor and faithfulness
in time to come.
Further ; we must ask what fruits we have gathered
during the years of our attendance in this place.
Have we gone from the sanctuary with good infiuences
about our hearts, with more love for our duty, and
more strength for our Christian warfare? Has our
sense of gratitude to the Saviour been quickened into
the principle of obedience to his commands, and have
we learned to estimate the spiritual benefits of his
mission, who came to seek and to save that which
was lost ? Have we permitted the services of God's
house to do something towards making us wiser and
better,—or have we suflered ourselves to fioat along»
from week to week, giving a careless attendance
merely in obedience to custom, but leaving out of sight
the great object of practical improvement, for which
the public institutions of religion are professedly
DISCOURSE SECOND.
35
established ? You are accustomed to take an account
of your worldly aifiirs, to review your business, that
you may see whether you have gained or lost by it.
Be at least as faithful to your religious interests. Do
you fear that you should be going behindhand in your
temporal concerns ? And have you no fear of going
behindhand in the things which relate to your ever¬
lasting peace? Consider, I beseech you, as those
who shall give an account, consider what spiritual cul¬
ture you have bestowed here, and what spiritual fruits
you have reaped.
My Christian friends, I desire to take to myself a
large part of the application of this subject. I desire
to question my own heart, as well as exhort you to
question yours. The review of our connexion with
this house of worship cannot present a more solemn
appeal to your feelings, than to mine. I have an
aifection for this old house; with all its defects of
convenience or taste, I love it for the pleasant and
sacred thoughts, which I am permitted to link with it.
I remember, that here, in this pulpit, I was ordained to
the work of the Christian ministry";:*I remember, that
here I have engaged in the most solemn duties which
man can discharge towards his feliow man, that I have
stood here to present the truths of eternity to your
minds, and to preach " the unsearchable riches of
Christ," — that here I have broken the bread and
poured the wine, which commemorate a Saviour's ser¬
vices and a Saviour's love,— that here, in the water of
baptism, I have dedicated your children to God and to
Christ. Can I remember these things, and then leave
this house with indifference? No, I should be ashamed
of myself, if I could. There will always be in my
36
DISCOURSE SECOND.
mind reverent associations with this place ; and the
remembrances suggested by what has been done here
will linger around the spot, while I live. It is now
more than seventeen years since I was set apart to
the work of the ministry among you ; and that, my
friends, is a large fragment even of a long ministry.
We are amazed, when we stop to measure the pro¬
gress, which time in its never-ceasing strides makes.
When I review the years, during which I have minis¬
tered in this church, I am reminded of many imper¬
fections and deficiencies, of much unworthiness and
much failure. God forgive me that my labors have
been so poor, compared with the standard at which the
Christian minister should always aim. I can say, as
before the Searcher of hearts, that I have endeavoured
to do my duty ; but the intention is all I can answer
for. I have sought to preach to you the truths of Jesus
Christ plainly, heartily, honestly. My heart's desire
and prayer to God have been, that I might minister
to your Christian improvement and growth in grace,
and that I might be a useful friend to your families and
your children. I Nühou'l'A fain hope that our relation to
each other has not been destitute of good fruits.
Would to God it had borne more ! May He, whose
mercy is our hope, pardon the faults of ray ministry,
and guide me to better light, and inspire me with more
earnest faithfulness, in time to come !
Brethren, by the blessing of God on your labors, you
have been enabled to erect a new, convenient, and
beautiful house for the worship of the Infinite Spirit.
You justly deemed that the time had come, when this
Christian enterprise ought to be undertaken ; and you
have brought it to a close, well and nobly. I thank
DISCOURSE SECOND.
37
you from my heart for the honorable perseverance,
with which you have completed the work. I remem¬
ber with deep gratitude the untiring industry and
affectionate zeal, with which female kindness has so
honorably labored to embellish the new sanctuary.
May God reward you by making the house, which
you have builded and adorned, a permanent bless¬
ing to yourselves, and to your children's children.
May your hearts be bound to it by holy and strong
ties ; may you ever feel a deep interest in it, and love
it as the hallowed place of your solemnities ; and may
"holiness to the Lord" be inscribed on those walls, till
they shall mingle with the dust of earth.
How strikingly, amidst the changes of life, are we
reminded of the permanence, the sameness, of our
blessed religion ! One house of worship gives place
to another, and that again to another, in the long
course of years, as convenience, necessity, or taste
may dictate ; and the worshippers themselves, genera¬
tion after generation, vanish from the earth. But
the religion itself is the same yesterday, to-day, and
for ever. In its essential elements it is always one,
and, amidst the shifting scenes of man's customs and
man's earthly life, is like the clear and steady light of
the sun compared with the clouds, the shapes of which
are continually changing and perishing. It may clothe
itself in various outward forms ; it may be connected
with many unessential articles of faith ; but in its great
central principles, which are few in number and of
vital significance, there is a power,—a life, — that no
time and no circumstances can affect. Amidst the
revolutions, changes, and downfall of particular na¬
tions and particular churches, this" remains the great.
38 DISCOURSE SECOND.
enduring agent of the spiritual world. Here is one
thing, over which time has no power. It stands ever
erect, like some lofty column amidst a wide scene of
general decay, the beacon of hope to the world. It
gave its blessings to our fathers, whose dust is mingled
with the earth around us ; it gives them to us now ;
it will give them to our children down to the last
generation who shall occupy our places. Shall we
not reverence a power, which thus always speaks and
breathes of eternity, — which thus plants the standard
of its triumph on the very dust, into which the body
of man, with all the forms of its kindred matter,
crumbles ? It contains, and ever will contain within
itself, a refuge for the sinner and consolation for the
saint. Wherever the weary and heavy-laden are to
be relieved, wherever the sorrowful are to be com¬
forted, the ignorant to be enlightened, or the wanderer
to be guided aright, wherever there is a heart touched
with penitence, a poor prodigal anxious to return to
his father's house, — there the religion of Jesus Christ
appears, and always shall appear, with the same life-
giving energy, the same holy and happy influences,
mighty to raise up and to save.
And now, my hearers, we must say farewell to this
ancient house of God, where our fathers, our friends,
and ourselves have for so many years sought the hal¬
lowing influences of worship and faith. It is worthy
to be remembered by us with affectionate respect.
We will remember, that it was consecrated as an
offering to God by the men of other days. We will
remember, that, in the dark hour of our country's trials,
the voice of patriotic counsel was echoed from these
walls. We will remember, that here the truth, as it
DISCOURSE SECOND.
39
is in Jesus, has been preached, and the memorial of
the Saviour observed, for more than eighty-one years.
We will look back on the past with grateful recollec¬
tions, and forward to the future with hopeful faith.
May the blessing of God accompany us, when we go
hence to meet in another temple. Farewell to this
house ! And when the history of the soul shall be
revealed in the light of a better world, may it appear
that in this place many have gathered such influences,
as have prepared them for " the house not made with
hands, eternal in the heavens."
A
DISCOURSE
PREACHED AT THE DEDICATION
OF
THE NEW MEETING-HOUSE
ERECTED BT
THE CONGREGATIONAL SOCTETY IN WATERTOWN,
oir
WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 7TH, 1836.
6
DISCOURSE III.
I Kings, ix. 3. " i have hallowed this house, which thou hast
built."
It is a great thing which man does, when he con¬
secrates himself and his possessions to God. He re¬
cognises thereby a sacred relation, in which is written
the explanation of his mysterious being. He signifies
that he is overshadowed by the Spirit of love and
truth, that he dwells with the Father and the Father
with him, and that the inward life, which alone consti¬
tutes his true existence, is the token of his union with
the Highest.
So when he attaches to the works of his hands
peculiar associations with the Holy One, he makes the
material minister to the spiritual, the transient to the
everlasting, and elevates what is in itself poor or
perishing into a glorious meaning that takes hold on
eternity. It is thus that the very wood and stones, of
which he constructs an edifice for worship, become
beautifully significant ; and the forms, into which his
skill and taste have wrought them, are no longer silent,
but speak of things beyond the outward world.
Shall such aids to piety, congenial as they are to the
very laws of our moral nature, be set at nought?
Shall we doubt that we obey a true and holy impulse,
when we thus find in the visible a symbol of the invisi¬
ble, and place among our dwellings, or beside our
daily walks, the tokens of our connexion with the
44
DISCOURSE THIRD,
spiritual world? The consecration of special places
to a sacred service is so much a dictate of our nature,
that the world over, in all ages, it has held a promi¬
nent position among religious ceremonies. However
defective or gross may have been the worship, how¬
ever enthralled among debasing superstitions the ac¬
tion of the religious sentiment, still men have felt, and
have expressed the feeling, that there was a meaning
in sacred enclosures, which might not be scorned with
impunity even by him who scorned other things. The
Roman poet did but give utterance to a natural sug¬
gestion, when he threatened his countrymen with the
vengeance of the gods for the ruinous condition of their
domes and altars. *
To this spontaneous sentiment our religion has given
a new and lofty direction. It would be little to the
praise of Christianity, had it broken asunder all such
associations, had it renounced for its spiritual service
the aid of place and of externals ; for this would be in
ill accordance with the philosophy of our nature. At
the centre of the Christian dispensation lies the purest
form of spirituality, the most intense principle of inte¬
rior life. These are the vital and characteristic ele¬
ments of its being. But along with these, and as
helps to these, it gladly allies itself to the decencies of
outward attractions, and appropriates the instrumental
influence that acts upon the senses. They mistake,
*"Delicta majorum immeritus lues,
Romans, donee templa refeceris,
iEdesque labentes Deorum, et
Fœda nigro simulacra fumo."
Hor. Carm. lib. iii. 6.
See likewise the account given by Tacitus, of the dedication of the
Capitol, when rebuilt by Vespasian.— Hist. lib. iv. 53.
DISCOURSE THIRD.
45
who suppose that they make Christianity any more a
religion of the heart, by denying to it all relation to
place and time.
It is interesting to contemplate the progress of
Christianity in respect to the external accommodations
enjoyed by its disciples, as well as in respect to its
moral power. We look back on the little and friend¬
less band of the Saviour's followers, just after they had
returned from the memorable scene, at which their
Master bade them farewell, to go to his Father and
their Father, to his God and their God. They turned
away, as we may suppose, with heavy hearts, and,
when they reached Jerusalem, assembled in " an up¬
per room," where they continued " with one accord
in prayer and supplication." What holy and touch¬
ing associations does imagination attach to that room,
where were gathered the small company of God's
messengers, from whom the word of life was to go
forth subduing and blessing the world. Time rolled
on, and that little band grew into a large body of be¬
lievers, holding " the unity of the spirit in the bond of
peace," and carrying with them the power that was
to effect the greatest moral revolution in the annals of
the world. During this time, they had stated places
of meeting, though not such as were then denominat¬
ed temples.* As their numbers increased, and as
they found periods of peace and favor from the civil
power, they built their churches. These were multi¬
plied rapidly, insomuch that when the edict of Diocle¬
tian went forth for the destruction of such edifices,
* The early Christians were reproached with having no iemßes ; the
meaning of this reproach is explained in Joseph Mede's Discourses and
Treatises concerning Churches, Sfc. See Mode's Works, book ii.
334-3.3G.
46
DISCOURSE THIRD.
there were more than forty of these basilica in the city
of Rome alone. Christianity passed through its sea¬
sons of sunshine and of storm, ever growing, ever
reaching forth to wider conquest, till a Christian em¬
peror was seated on the throne, and the banner of the
cross became the banner of empire. Then architect¬
ure, in its most costly and magnificent forms, was sum¬
moned into the service of the religion of Jesus ; and,
when Constantine had finished a church at Jerusalem,
the bishops were gathered from the various parts of
Christendom, to perform with due magnificence the
solemn rites of dedication. From that time, the spread
of the religion was accompanied by the multiplication
of edifices adorned with solemn beauty, and conse¬
crated to the services by which the soul, in visible
forms, manifests its relation to the Infinite One and to
spiritual being.
And now, instead of that one " upper room," where
the little company of heart-stricken disciples met,
surrounded by a hostile world, we look abroad on those
parts of the earth, which are most distinguished by all
the refinements of life, and in which the great intel¬
lectual power of mankind resides, and see them
abounding in the splendid memorials of Christian wor¬
ship, which echo to the prayers and praises of count¬
less multitudes keeping the holy day of the Gospel.
The traveller lingers with reverent delight among the
venerable temples and time-hallowed cathedrals of the
old world ; and our own fair land, a new and glorious
conquest for the Gospel, is covered with churches,
whose towers and spires glitter in her crowded cities,
or point peacefully to heaven on the hills and along
the valleys of her beautiful villages.
Such has been the progress in the external appen-
DISCOURSE THIRD.
47
dages of our religion. And is it not analogous to the
progress of the same religion, as a moral power among
mankind ? When] we revert to the humble and ap¬
parently feeble beginning of the Christian dispensation,
it is wonderful to mark its widening and deepening
progress, as it travelled onward through the ages, till
it has become the great master power of the world.
One, who might have observed those few disciples at
Jerusalem, after the ascension of Jesus, in the light of
common worldly wisdom, would probably have regard¬
ed them as exhibiting one of the most hopeless of the
many delusions of fanaticism. "Soon," he would have
said, " they will disband from the mere heart-sickness of
disappointed hope, or with the levity of unstable men
they will abandon a fruitless cause, or they will wither
before the fierce onset of persecution, and be heard of
no more." But was it sol No; these were the
appointed ones to carry on God's great work among
men ; few they were in number, but stout of heart,
filled with the strength, and inspired with the wisdom,
of Heaven. They went forth to their task, as those
who had been called by a voice they might not dis¬
obey, to be the heralds of salvation to a world lying
in the shadow of moral death. They counted life a
cheap thing, so they might but finish their work ; and
the word of God grew mightily. They gave impulses,
whose strong vibrations are now spreading through
the earth, so that the far distant islands of the ocean,
and the tribes of barbarous shores, are listening to the
sound as it rolls on. Since those humble men, scorn¬
ed or hated by their age, spoke the words of fife, the
history of the world has become a far different thing
from what it had been before. Since the disciples
48
DISCOURSE THIRD.
gathered with timid steps into " the upper room " at
Jerusalem, and looked upon each other in sorrowful
perplexity, the religion they preached has, in various
forms and by numerous collateral influences, become
the mightiest power that moves mankind, — a power
which marshals the world forward on the path of im¬
provement, is down in the depths and abroad over the
surface of society, kindles the light of spiritual philoso¬
phy, tasks the most gifted intellects to follow its far-
reaching revelations of truth, and holds under its reign
the nations who march in the van of the world's pro¬
gress, — reminding us how truly Jesus spoke, when
he said, " On this rock I will build my church, and the
gates of hell shall not prevail against it."
We have come together to consecrate, by the usual
religious solemnities, to the service of God, this com¬
modious and beautiful church, which by his blessing
on our labors we have been permitted to erect. We
would pray, that we may find fulfilled to us what
Jehovah fulfilled to Solomon, when he said, " I have
hallowed this house, which thou hast built." I would
therefore ask you to consider what this act means ; or
rather, I would propose, as the subject of your
thoughts on this occasion, the significance of a Chris¬
tian temple.
1. The sanctuary is a symbol of the Divine Pres¬
ence. In saying this, I do not mean to be considered
as uttering mere words of course, but as declaring a
vital and precious truth. Nor do I countenance the
old imagination, which assigned a local habitation to
the Supreme Mind.
It is a poor philosophy and a narrow religion, which
does not recognise God as all in all. Every moment of
DISCOURSE THIRD.
49
our lives, we breathe, stand, or move in the temple of
the Most High ; for the whole universe is that temple.
Wherever we go, the testimony to his power, the im¬
press of his hand, are there. Ask of the bright worlds
around us, as they roll in the everlasting harmony of
their circles ; and they shall tell you of Him,^i whose
power launched them on their courses. Ask of the
mountains, that lift their heads among and above the
clouds ; and the bleak summit of one shall seem to call
aloud to the snow-clad top of another, in proclaiming
their testimony to the Agency which has laid their
deep foundations. Ask of ocean's waters ; and the
roar of their boundless waves shall chant from shore
to shore a hymn of ascription to that Being, who hath
said, " Hitherto shall ye come and no further." Ask of
the rivers; and, as they roll onward to the sea, do they
not bear along their ceaseless tribute to the ever-
working Energy, which struck open their fountains and
poured them down through the valleys'? Ask of every
region of the earth, from the burning equator to the icy
pole, from the rock-bound coast to the plain covered
with its luxuriant vegetation; and will you not find on
them all the record of the Creator's presence? Ask of
the countless tribes of plants and animals ; and shall
they not testify to the action of the great Source of
Life? Yes, from every portion, from every department
of nature, comes the same voice ; everywhere we hear
thy name, O God ; everywhere we see thy love.
Creation, in all its length and breadth, in all its depth
and height, is the manifestation of thy Spirit, and with¬
out thee the world were dark and dead. The universe
is to us as the burning bush which the Hebrew leader
saw ; God is ever present in it, for it burns with His
7
50
DISCOURSE THIRD.
glory, and the ground on which we stand is always
holy.
How then can we speak of that Presence as pecu¬
liarly in the sanctuary, which is abroad through all
space and time? " Behold," said the king of Israel,
following out this natural thought, " the heaven, and the
heaven of heavens, cannot contain thee; how much
less this house, which I have builded." But here it
should be remembered, that, when we speak of the
presence of God in relation to the human mind, we
suppose such a state of mind as may be fitted to appre¬
hend that presence; without this, the tokens of the
Infinite Spirit are as if they were not. We can draw
nigh unto God, so as to realize that he is with us, only
by coming into a state of spiritual union with him ; and
that spiritual union is the result of the action which
carries our souls towards God. When our inward
frame is in harmony with the Divine Nature, by being
opened to the light of truth, which is the sun of the
spiritual world, and by expanding into holy affections
and heavenly aspirations; then, and not before, we are
truly in the presence of God; then, and not before,
there is a living relation between us and the Father of
our spirits.
Now the process, by which this approximation to the
great Source of moral life is to be effected, must be
wrought out by the lifting up of our faculties and feel¬
ings out of dark and chilling influences into the broad,
warm day of the upper world. The good man lives in
the presence of God because he is good, because his
spirit has an affinity for the divine and the infinite ; he
is not alone, for the Father is with him. It is indiffer¬
ence, or depravity, or earthliness, that carries the soul
DISCOURSE THIRD. 51
away from the presence-chamber of the Almighty, that
blinds the eye, petrifies the heart and shuts us up in a
narrow prison, so that we live without God. What,
though the agency of the Holy One is about us and
within us, encompassing our paths at home and abroad,
in solitude and in society? what, though it may be
traced in the history of the world and in our own ex¬
perience, in the beneficent arrangements of Providence
and in the mysteries of our spiritual frame? So long
as our minds are blind to its tokens, and refuse to re¬
cognise its doings by coming into that moral harmony
with them, which constitutes the true vision, it is all in
vain. It is as if we should stand in the midst of the
outward creation, as it lies tranquilly in the beautiful
sunlight, and yet see none of its glories, because our
eyes are darkened by disease, or because we look
down only upon the little spot beneath our feet.
The true presence of God, then, is that presence
which the spirit of man seeks and gains, when it passes
into a state of moral union with God. Now this is the
developement of our nature, which the temple conse¬
crated to religion is designed to assist, and which it
does greatly assist, unless the purpose be paralyzed
by formality or crushed by worldliness. In the church,
the willing soul may find such infiuences, as shall place
the vital elements of her being in true correspondence
with the Highest. It is there, that faith is nourished,
hope kindled, and peace shed abroad in the inner man.
It is there, that the icy indifference, the self-seeking
which wrongs the soul, the hardened earthliness, the
corrupt trifling, which separate between man and his
God, may vanish before the moral power that consti¬
tutes, if I may so say, the genius of the place, and thus
52
DISCOURSE THIRD.
the finite mind may be carried into intimate communion
with the Infinite Mind. There we may be nourished
in truth, wisdom, and love; and by these God is in us
and we in God. The services of the sanctuary, and
the thoughts that stir in the worshipper's heart, may
cause heaven to open in the silent manifestations of the
Holy One ; for, even amidst the imperfection and little¬
ness of earth, whatever may be the measure of our
progress in the true spiritual life, it will correspond to
the vast expansion of the Divine Nature, as the shadow
on the dial corresponds in its motion to the position of
the sun in the heavens, though the shadow moves per¬
haps but a handbreadth, while the place of the great
luminary changes by millions of miles.
The ancient Gentiles, we are told, supposed their
deities to be enclosed within their temples by the effi¬
cacy of spells and magical incantations, so that they
could always be found there when wanted by their
worshippers. For this retention of the gods within the
sacred enclosure, an idol was necessary as the central
point of collocation. In their gross apprehension, this
indwelling of the image of the god was essential to the
idea of a temple; and because the followers of Jesus,
guided by a better instruction, discarded these unwor¬
thy conceptions, and believed the mind of the worship¬
per to be the true sanctuary, they were represented as
having no temples. In later days, the doctrine has
received the countenance of learned Christian divines,
that the presence of God in the place of worship is to
be explained by the actual, though invisible presence
of his retinue of holy angels, — the heavenly guard, sta¬
tioned as observers of the conduct and the hearts of
DISCOURSE THIRD.
53
the congregation.* But to the enlightened Christian,
this subject exhibits itself in far higher and more spiri¬
tual relations. He knows that he can come into the
presence of the Most High only by the elevating and
sanctifying influences, through which his own nature
passes; that he can rise to the true vision of the Divine
only on the wings of faith, only by the upward progress
of his inward being ; that, as it has been well expressed,
we can see God as he is, " no otherwise but by becom¬
ing deiform, by being changed into the same glory." f
The real Schechinah,î or the special manifestation of
God's presence, is in the human soul, in its exercises
of trust, of love, of holy thought, of devout aspiration.
It is because in the church these motions of the spirit
are or may be warmed into strong action, and these
tendencies towards heaven ripened into principles, that
the church becomes significant of divine realities, and
that God may be said to meet the true worshipper
* Joseph Mede's Works, book ii. 343.
t Bishop Rust's Funeral Sermon on Jeremy Taylor. This discourse,
fuU of the rich eloquence of spiritual thought, may be found in the first
volume of Heber's edition of Taylor. The following extract firom it
finely describes a great truth connected with my subject : — " There are
several faculties in the soul of man, that are conformed to several kinds
of objects ; and, according to that life a man is awakened into, so these
faculties do exert themselves ; and though, while we live barely an ani¬
mal life, we converse with little more than this outward world and the
objects of our senses, yet there are faculties within us that are receptive
of God ; and, when we arrive once unto a due measure of purity of spirit,
the rays of heavenly light will as certainly shine into our minds, as the
beams of the sun, when it arises above the horizon, do illuminate the clear
and pellucid air ; and from this sight and illumination, the soul proceeds
to an intimate union with God, and to a taste and touch of him. This is
that rirux's *eci ixt7)ôy ixafn, that ' silent touch ' with God, that fills the soul
with unexpressible joy and triumph."
I Carlyle's Sartor Resartus, p. 65.
54
DISCOURSE THIRD.
theref. He, who knows this by his own experience,
who has found in the temple that quickening of the
inward life which he finds nowhere else, will be ready
to say, in the language of the patriarch when he awoke
from the vision at Bethel, " Surely the Lord is in this
place and I knew it not; this is none other but the
house of God, this is the gate of heaven."
2. The sanctuary is the symbol of the purest and
most salutary emotions of the human heart. It is the
standing exhibition of the fact, that a refuge is provided
from the wearisome toil and the heating pursuits of a
world, where are duties and disappointments which we
may not avoid and should not wish to avoid, but which
sometimes try the spirit painfully. It stands in the
midst of our dwellings, surrounded by the scenes of our
usual labor, — a tranquil and separated spot, to signify
that there is a place of holy refreshment for the mind
amidst its working-day cares.
I know that the reality of this view depends on the
state of feeling with which we habitually visit the church
and perform our duties there ; but, in all statements of
this sort, we presuppose a wise and conscientious use
of the means of grace connected with our Christian
institutions. Without this, they will sink among the
dead things of form, instead of being instinct with a
living power. But if, as a matter of sacred duty, we
avail ourselves of those preparative influences, which
tranquillize and purify our trains of thought by taking
them out of their common tracks of worldliness, which
give the mind a fixed, steady, religious tendency, and
create an aptness for devout contemplation, a relish
for Christian truth, then it may indeed be affirmed, that
the house of worship is the scene of that healing power.
DISCOURSE THIRD.
55
which is found in the best affections of our nature. I
know not where we may look for calm and soothing
influences, if not in those exercises and in that disci¬
pline of the feelings, which the sanctuary offers. The
tribute which we there present, is a tribute of praise to
the Presiding Mind of the universe ; and even if it he
not, as it should be, the outpouring of a heart filled with
the love of the infinitely Good and True, still there is
in the very nature of the contemplation to which for a
while it fastens the thoughts, a power that must give a
respite, at least, from the things which debase or grieve
the spirit.
" Praise is devotion fit for mightie minds,
The differing world's agreeing sacrifice."
Not less is it fit for the humblest minds; and for all it
has a blessing of elevated calmness like that which we
find in looking, till we are lost in far-running thoughts,
at the stars in the firmament. So, too, penitence has
a subduing and refining efficacy for the heart. We
stand in the presence of the holy laws prescribed by
the Moral Governor of the universe, and conscience
declares the verdict, that we are transgressors. The
sentiment of unworthiness and of our need of mercy is
a purifying sentiment. The sacrifice of a broken spirit
is not only acceptable to God, but comes back in bless¬
ings on the heart of the penitent himself. Nor can the
mind be called to the contemplation of religious truth,
in all its vast relations to the present and thé future,
without receiving from the process an influence at least
far better than that of the petty or agitating interests of
the things seen and temporal. The gospel of Jesus
Christ, even if it does not operate with a saving power
56
DISCOURSE THIRD.
on the heart, will do much to redeem it from frivolity
and debasement.
And so I might proceed to speak of all the modifi¬
cations of tranquillizing influence, which the temple of
God may furnish to the willing mind, the antagonist
power which it supplies to the hurry and the worldli-
ness, the heating and corrupting pursuits, that crowd
around us amid our every-day scenes. May we not
fitly call these, in the beautiful words of an old divine,
" a sweet breathing of the Holy Spirit upon our pas¬
sions, whereby it does, as it did in the beginning of
Genesis, incubare aquis, move by a cherishing, quiet
virtue, upon the sea of our passions'? "
Now here is a soothing power, which every one will
find occasions enough to wish for. Affliction in some
of its various forms will cast its dark shade over his
domestic circle; the hollow-hearted selfishness, the
narrow views, the bigotry, the ingratitude of his fellow-
men, will mingle many drops of bitterness in his cup;
seasons will come when the spirit within him will be
weary and faint under the burdens of life, and he will
be ready to exclaim, " Oh, that I had wings like a dove !
for then would I fly away and be at rest;" seasons
when temptations will press hard, when the voice of
duty will be stern and her tasks severe ; seasons when
he will see the emptiness, the cheat of all that wealth
or self-indulgence has to bestow, when the pangs of
the last hour will come up in prospect, and the solem¬
nity of death will press on his thoughts not to be turned
aside. At such times will he not thank God for the
privileges of the temple, which symbolizes the soothing
influences of divine truth and of a better world, which
is as " a refuge in the storm, a shadow in the heat? "
DISCOURSE THIRD.
57
Even if the sanctuary could render no higher service
than this recreation of the wearied spirit, it would am¬
ply repay the most liberal protection from the commu¬
nity. Among the various tribes of fishes, there are
some that cannot live without occasionally coming to
the surface of the water to breathe our air. Our con¬
dition somewhat resembles this. No one, who has
any apprehension of better things than the pleasures
of sense or the possessions that perish in the using,
can live long without taking breath in the higher atmo¬
sphere of devotion and of spiritual truth. We are
informed, that the primitive Christians built their
churches, for the most part, in an oblong shape, so as
to exhibit some similitude to the form of a ship; the
emblematical meaning of this was, that mankind are
cast upon a stormy and tempestuous sea, and that the
church is the ship of safety to bear them to the haven
of peace.* The device may be regarded as a quaint
conceit; but does it not contain the germ of a signifi¬
cance, the truth of which every man of religious sensi¬
bility must acknowledge, amidst the wearisome strug¬
gles and the wasting labors, the sad hours and the
trying duties, of life?
3. The sanctuary is the symbol of a provision for the
best welfare of the civil community. It stands forth,
bearing the silent testimony of respect paid to religion,
as the essential foundation of the wellbeing of society.
It is the monument of the incorporation of Christianity
among the vital elements of that mass, which we call
the nation. Thus understood, it represents a truth
confirmed by the wisdom of ages, as well as proclaim-
* Cave's Primitive Christianity, p. 87.
8
68
DISCOURSE THIRD.
ed by the voice of God,—a truth of noble meaning, hut
far from being generally appreciated as it should he.
Our churches, scattered through the land as a part
of the institutions of social life, testify, that religion is
not a selfish thing; that it belongs to the community as
such, and blesses the community as such; that its prov¬
ince is not confined to the breast of the individual or
to the joys of the family circle; that, when it has sanc¬
tified and made happy your own heart, or hearts dear
to you as your own, it has not done all its work; that
it goes forth through the length and breadth of your
country's great interests, and scatters blessings from
its wings over the land at large, as well as over your
own dwelling. One of the remarks by which men
contrive to wrap up, in a few words, much error with
truth, so as to make the error pass under cover of the
truth, is the very common one, that religion is a mat¬
ter only between the individual and his God. So far
as the personal responsihleness of the individual, as a
moral being, is alone concerned, it is so; hut it is like¬
wise something more : it is a matter of vital interest
between the members of society, a matter with re¬
spect to which they have deep and solemn obligations
growing out of the compact and fellowship of civil life.
There are few who appear to understand that human
society is God's institution, and is imbedded in princi¬
ples which presuppose the action of a higher power
than that of mere expediency. Many persons regard
the problem for the construction and perpetuation of a
community as solved, when due provision is made for
the regulated action of self-interest, ambition, and per¬
sonal enterprise, by nice adjustments and under skil¬
fully contrived forms of government. Society, they
DISCOURSE THIRD.
59
think, is a machine which will work curiously and well
when thus put together. But all such views of the
subject are essentially shallow and false; the social
state has higher and nobler ends than these to accom¬
plish. It is not a mere trading company, a combi¬
nation for mutual protection and mutual assistance in
business; its true character and purposes are never
understood, till it is considered as having its foundations
in no mechanical contrivances, but in that spiritual law
of God, which embraces all the intellectual and moral
relations of man.* Every one in society is a constitu¬
ent portion of a whole, which must be based on the
unseen power and be penetrated by the living spirit of
Eternal Truth. Yet how few are there among the
members of any community, who look at the subject
in this light. " Many persons, I am afraid," says an
able writer, "have never found out that there were
any bonds connecting them with the state, until they
made the discovery in a prison." f
So, in our estimate of the prosperity and perpetuity
of a nation, we are perpetually in danger of leaving
* " The State," says Edmund Burke, " is not a partnership in things
subservient only to the gross animal existence of a temporary and perish¬
able nature. It is a partnership in all science ; a partnership in all art ;
a partnership in every virtue and in all perfection. As the ends of such
a partnership cannot be obtained in many generations, it becomes a part¬
nership not only between those who are living, but between those who
are living, those who are dead, and those who are to be born. Each
contract of each particular state is but a clause in the great primeval
contract of eternal society, linking the lower with the higher natures,
connecting the visible and invisible world, according to a fixed compact
sanctioned by the inviolable oath which holds all physical and all moral
natures, each in their appointed place."—Reflections on the Revolution in
France; Works, III. 116.
t Guesses at Truth, II. 73.
60
DISCOURSE THIRD.
moral and religious considerations out of the account.
We think of an extensive commerce beating its path¬
ways across every ocean, lifting its white sails to the
breeze in every quarter of the world, and gathering its
contributions over every sea and from every shore.
We think of a busy and well-conducted agriculture,
subduing the wilderness and making it blossom as the
rose, turning a whole land, as it were, into a fruitful
garden, nerving the arm of the laborer with strength
and breathing health into his frame, and forming the
rallying-point of a people's dependence. We think of
the vast operations of manufactures, in which mechan¬
ical ingenuity has created so mighty an auxiliary to
human labor, and which, by the voice of the water¬
courses, proclaim the power of art in furnishing the
commodities of comfort and elegance. We think of a
system of government, of which the principles are
theoretically just, which acknowledges and guards the
inalienable rights of man, and leaves each one all the
freedom not inconsistent with the safety of the whole.
We think of the means of physical defence, of armies
ready at the call of danger to repel the hosts of the foe,
of fleets making the ocean tremble under their roar and
teaching the foreigner to respect a nation's flag. These
are the things of which we think, when we compute
the elements of a people's greatness and prosperity;
these are the brilliant points on which we fix our eyes,
and the community, we say, which has such resources
and such defences, is glorious and happy. But, we
may depend upon it, if the estimate stop here, it is
radically defective, for the whole vast consideration of
moral influence and religious power is left out of view;
and, if there be any truth in history, any truth in reason
DISCOURSE THIRD.
61
or revelation, the estimate Avhich leaves these out of
sight is mutilated and utterly fallacious throughout.
Nothing can be substituted in place of religious prin¬
ciple, as the cement or the binding force of society.
Mere knowledge will not answer the purpose ; mere
education will not do the work; for a people may be
very knowing, without being truly wise. " I fear," says
one, " there is a moment of broken lights in the intel¬
lectual day of civilized countries, when knowledge
among them becoming all too much, wisdom becomes
all too little." Even the fantastic forms and erratic
courses of the religious sentiment will not be regarded
with contemptuous severity by one, who remembers
that they are but the extravagant or defective operation
of a principle, which is as the very life-blood of the
community. " Superstition," says Burke, " is the reli¬
gion of feeble minds; and they must be tolerated in an
intermixture of it, in some trifling or some enthusiastic
shape or other, else you will deprive weak minds of a
resource found necessary to the strongest." We are
told, that in ancient times the Christian emperors,
when they were about to enter a church, laid aside
their arms, left behind them the guards by whom they
were at other times constantly attended, put off their
crowns, and appeared in the house of God simply as
undistinguished individuals, standing in the presence of
the common Father. In this reverent humility, which
veiled imperial dignity before the King of Kings, there
is an emblem of the profound respect with which every
true-seeing patriot will regard religion in the state.
Though this sentiment may be far less sincere and
efficient among us than it should be, yet it is refreshing
to contemplate our churches, scattered far and wide in
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the land, as memorials of the persuasion, that religion
must have a central lodgment among the elements of a
people's wellbeing.
4. The sanctuary is a symbol of the advancement of
that religious truth, to which Christ told the Roman
governor that he came into the world to bear witness.
Our temples signify that we feel the importance of
Christian instruction. If their true purpose is under¬
stood, they are consecrated to the spirit of progress, to
the enlargement of Christian knowledge, to the growth
of spiritual wisdom. The pulpit, if it be faithful to its
office, is to act as an opposing power to that dulness of
apprehension, or that narrowness of soul, which would
paralyze or bind in chains the expansive genius of the
Gospel of Christ.
There is a state of apathy respecting Christianity, as
a power of moral and intellectual life, which grows
upon the soul, like a disease, from worldliness or sec¬
tarianism. We do not look to religion as giving our
faculties the noblest and most generous task, on which
they can be exercised. Amidst our cares and striv¬
ings, we hasten along with our eyes on the ground, and
our hands busy among perishing things; and mean¬
while the broad arch of Heaven in all its glory is over
our heads, and beauty and light are bursting forth in
the upper region, but we heed them not; for, if we did,
no feeling of indifference, no unworthy thought, could
be associated with a religion which ever beckons us
onward and upward to the vision of truth, to the
mount of God. Let the house, where the instructions
of the Gospel are dispensed, be considered as bringing
a strong power to bear against this unhappy tendency,
and it will have a meaning in accordance with the call
/
DISCOURSE THIRD. 63
which God makes, by his providence and his word, on
the activity of our spiritual nature.
The church, then, is significant of the duty of free
and sanctified inquiry into religious truth, — a duty of
much wider extent, and of more solemn obligation, than
are commonly assigned to it. No one can consider
this as a light matter, who remembers that God is our
instructor, that the human mind is his inspiration, and
that the great topics of investigation presented by
religion are the points of contact between the Infinite
Spirit and our spirits. We are shamefully false to the
trust committed to us by our Heavenly Father, when
we shut out Christianity from the action of our faculties,
or lay it aside as a thing to be carefully kept, perhaps
to be honored, but not to be received as a central
principle of impulse to the mind's progress. This is
treachery to our own immortal nature ; it is ingratitude
towards God. Religious truth is the soul's natural
food. Will you starve this godlike power, or compel
it to feed on husks, or to accustom itself to poisons'?
If you do, a fearful retribution will be found in its
dwarfed, diseased, or shrivelled condition.
Consider what are the subjects to which the religion
of Christ invites our thoughts. It tells us that over
this scene of things, in which we live, there is a Pre¬
siding Mind, a Moral Governor, who takes charge of
the interests of truth and righteousness, who has made
the law of his service the law of our happiness, and
who, in the word of revelation, has opened a pathway
of communication between himself and the human
mind, which is kindred to him in its origin and growth.
It tells us that the moral life kindled up in our breasts
is destined for a high and holy purpose, of which it can
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fail only by our own faithlessness or folly, and that all
things, if rightly used, have a meaning and a tendency
towards the great aim of our existence. It tells us, that
the mission of Jesus Christ was a mission of love, of
peace, of pardon to a world darkened by sorrow and
sin; that he came to bring, in the healing power of
heavenly influences, an enlightening and regenerating
agency for all the principles of our higher nature; that,
by his ministry, God has brought fully to light those
purposes of mercy which are commensurate with man's
whole existence, and has imparted, in the fulness of its
blessing, the inspiration of the life-giving doctrine of
immortality, that grand keystone in the arch which
supports human virtue. These are the leading lines
of those truths, which the Gospel of our Lord arrays
before us. It directs the seekers after wisdom to such
treasures as the world giveth not and taketh not away ;
it speaks consolation, not elsewhere to be found, to the
sorrow-stricken heart; it brings the message of forgive¬
ness and reconciliation to the penitent and heavy-laden
sinner. And shall these truths be a dumb show before
dull eyes? Shall they quicken no life in our spiritual
nature, excite no action of thought and inquiry, allure
to no search, no questioning as to their meaning,
their relations, their bearing on the present and future
developements of our being? Shameful insensibility
if they do not; for all the objects of intellectual and
moral research, all the higher forms of art and litera¬
ture, all the manifestations of man's inward being, are
allied to religion by close ties ; and dull or hardened
must be the mind that can slumber over such interests
as these.
I am aware that the phrase free inquiry has become
DISCOURSE THIRD.
65
too much a cant phrase, soiled by the handling of the
ignorant and the reckless, by those who fall into the
mistake of supposing that religion has its root in the
understanding, and by those who can see just far
enough to doubt, and no further. Nevertheless, the
free inquiry, which the Christian instruction of the
sanctuary demands, has a true and high meaning when
it is understood to promote the earnest and unshackled
action of the soul about the greatest of all truths. It
stands in opposition to the narrowing and degrading
tendencies of sectarianism. There are those, whose
minds are for ever moving round in the little circle of
their doctrines, imagining that the whole Christian
world is pent up within these limits. There are those,
in whom early associations have created a fond attach¬
ment to a creed in itself cheerless and barren, and who
prefer it to the most genial and expansive views, be¬
cause it is the native soil of their religious feelings, —
just as the Greenlander loves his ice-clad rocks and
his wilderness of snow better than the most sunny and
fertile fields in the world. There are others whose
fetters are more loose, though they still wear fetters,
whose prison-house of the mind is of somewhat larger
dimensions, but who still have a prison, who offer
encouragement to the free action of the spirit up to a
certain point and there stop, proclaiming those to be
dangerous men who go beyond or aside from that point.
So it comes to pass, that intolerance is still the beset¬
ting sin of man in questions of religious or social inter¬
est. In our times and in our land, it cannot immure
the body in dungeons, or banish the individual from his
country; but it can find other means of admonishing
him, that it is necessary to walk within the prescribed
9
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limits, — other modes of operation, which, as Jortin
says, "resemble the method of Italian assassins, to
beat a man with satchels of sand; no blood is shed
and no bones are broken, but the patient dies by the
operation."
Now the question, whether individual inquiry on
religious subjects shall take place, is settled by a power
higher than human. In this, as in other departments,
thought is an irrepressible, unquenchable element. The
walls of a dungeon cannot straiten it; many waters
cannot overwhelm it; the fires of persecution cannot
consume it; the foot of arbitrary power cannot trample
it down. The only question is, whether you will allow
it to move on towards its high objects with a straight¬
forward, unembarrassed progress, or will drive it into
by-paths and secret passages, and compel it to take a
slow or circuitous course. The answer of Christianity
is. Give it a free action and let it be glorified. " Why
even of yourselves judge ye not what is rightl" was
the question of our Saviour to the men of his time.
No man has ever contrived articles, however numer¬
ous, or words, however cunningly arranged, which will
express all the meaning of Christianity. Every indivi¬
dual must dig in this mine of truth for himself, and find
and bring out such treasures as he may. Here is the
only just principle. Whatever restrains or dwarfs the
spiritual individuality of any man, inflicts a cruel injury
upon him, and is at war with the genius of our religion.
An associated body of worshippers is not a community
to be shaped by one standard of thought or feeling.
The true glory of our Christian institutions is that moral
glory, which consists in being the instruments of put¬
ting into active forms, and transmitting from mind to
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67
mind, from generation to generation, the living spirit
that animates the kingdom of Christ in the soul. We
want that large and calm tolerance, which leaves to
every mind its unmolested peculiarities of spirituâl
developement; for thus, and thus only, the true church
of Christ's believers is constituted. The soul is most
quiet and peaceful when its movements are most free,
as the motion of our globe, swiftly as it careers through
the fields of space, disturbs not even the slender threads
of which the spider weaves her web. We carry out
consistently the principles of the Reformation, around
which we profess to rally, only when we allow every
one in tranquil freedom to concentrate upon the search
after divine wisdom that attention of the soul, which is
the soul's prayer for truth.* That portion of the inter¬
nal life of religion, which is capable of being carried
forth from one mind into another, is, by the nature of
the case, the most uncertain and the least considerable;
there should, therefore, be a conscientious reference to
circumstances in the diffusion or expression of religious
views, — for there are persons upon whom the beams
of truth, falling directly and at once, may produce a
fever. Let there be a wise regard, in each, to the dic¬
tates of enlightened prudence; but let a community of
Christian worshippers be united on the large ground,
which allows freedom to the manifestations of the indi¬
vidual soul. To such a community we may say, in
the words of the ancient prophet, " Arise, shine ; for
thy light is come, and the glory of the Lord is risen
upon thee."
* " L'attention de l'esprit est la prière naturelle que nous faisons à la
vérité intérieure, afin qu'elle se découvre à nous." — Malebranche's Con¬
versations Chrétiennes, p. 3.
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5. The sanctuary is a symbol of man's relation to the
Infinite and the Eternal. This suggestion, though in
some degree implied in my preceding remarks, de¬
serves a distinct notice. I mean by it, that, wherever
we see a church, there is a sign that we belong, in all
that can truly be called ours, to that which is above the
shadowy and changing conditions of time.
We have faculties and affections, that are ever run¬
ning out into the unlimited in time and space. All
rehgion presupposes, as a condition, this fact in our
nature; the modes of being apprehended by our senses,
or by the mere exercise of the understanding, are all
limited and finite. Matter, in its various shapes and
relations, is straitened within boundaries; it is fragmen¬
tary and depends on conditions; it decays, perishes,
changes its forms. Every thing of this sort is mutable,
transitory, in a state of fiux and reflux. We see only
a succession of effects and manifestations. We stand
before Nature, as before a passing show. We our¬
selves, as well as the surrounding objects, are per¬
petually changing. Frailty is written on our frames.
The bubble swelling and bursting on the surface of the
water, the vapor ascending and vanishing in the thin
air, the dust blown away by the wind, — these are the
images by which man represents to himself his brief
and broken life. Now there is a part of our nature,
which all this does not satisfy. There is something
within us, — call it a feeling, or call it reason, — which
struggles away from these finite, these temporary
things, and seeks to rise to some existence which is
absolute in itself, and subject to none of these condi¬
tions. This process will be more or less adequately
performed, according to the refinement of the individual
DISCOURSE THIRD.
69
or of the community; but the germ of it is always in
man, and is always at work.
Aspirations towards the infinitely pure are also de¬
veloped in the moral nature. In this world, good is
entangled amidst imperfection and struggle; tempta¬
tions assail and sorrow wearies us; the body environs
and sometimes weighs down the soul; we are compel¬
led to do battle through sin and weakness; and the
excellence which we reach, we can gain only by con¬
test or from opposition. But, at the same time, we
have a feeling which prompts us to look out beyond
this scene of feeble and thwarted efforts to that state
of calm, unmingled moral purity, which we can antici¬
pate, though we witness it not. We ascend far above
the agitating hopes and fears, the toil and turmoil out
of which goodness is wrung on earth, till we come to a
Being, who, in the tranquil fulness of infinity, embodies
and personifies the perfect principle of moral rectitude,
and to a form of existence, in which the law of unvary¬
ing right constitutes the line of spontaneous motion for
all thought and feeling, and obedience to it is ever the
central action of the soul. In short, we are carried
upward to a world, whose sun is truth, whose atmo¬
sphere is love.
Such is the soul's tendency to the infinite and the
eternal. This is the side of our nature, on which its
true sublimity appears; and on this side it is always
connected with religion. We live here as in a valley,
whose horizon is crowned with mountains that limit
our view within a space comparatively narrow; but,
between these mountains, vistas open here and there,
through which, as by outlets from the enclosure,
thought and imagination escape into the measureless
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region beyond, where the blue sky ever smiles serene¬
ly, and the vast air is always filled with bland and pure
influences. In all this there is a sober reality, which
the spirit of man in its best hours of meditation recog¬
nises and loves. Unless life is wholly enthralled in
the servitude of sense and of animal appetite, we must
feel, amidst our strait limits and narrow conditions,
that it is refreshing to mount on the wings of that faith,
which springs from the constitution of the soul, to the
absoluteness, the repose of the Infinite. Our condi¬
tion is like that of one, who should rise from troubled
sleep, broken and disturbed by such dreams as are
attended with a painful sense of frustrated eflbrt, and
should look out in the stillness of midnight on the clear,
calm heavens, where the stars glisten in strange beauty,
and, amidst a silence as of infinity, the vast firmament
seems with loving gentleness to brood over the little
spot on which we dwell.
Now this feeling is interwoven among the elements
of all religion, or rather is itself the element of all. It
ever struggles forth into some outward expression; it
is rudely symbolized even among the uncultivated
tribes of mankind, and in corrupt or darkened forms of
the religious sentiment, by idols, altars, and strange
services. The remark has been made, that it is
because music and poetry awaken the feeling of the
infinite, and owe to this a large part of their fascination,
that they have been always associated with religion,
and employed in worship by different nations and
tribes.* There are some churches, the great monu¬
ments of architectural power, which call into strong
* Ancillon, Mélanges de Littérature et de Philosophie, 1. 29.
DISCOURSE THIRD.
71
action this same far-reaching sentiment. Travellers
tell us, that, when standing under the dome of St.
Peter's at Rome, they have been entirely subdued by
an indescribable feeling of the littleness of every earthly
thing, and have been awed into silent wonder by the
presence of a vastness^ which seems ever expanding
into infinity.
But all the forms, in which this sentiment has ap¬
peared, are shackled and stinted when compared with
that which it receives from Christianity. In the Gospel
of Christ, the infinite and the eternal are the pervading
and quickening influences. The pure spirituality of its
doctrines, the deep foundations of everlasting truth
on which its precepts are based, its " great and pre¬
cious promises," by which, according to the Apostle
Peter's noble expression, we become " partakers of a
divine nature," its warnings, which reveal to us the
fearful destiny of spiritual barrenness or corruption,
that constant connexion of all duties and hopes with
God, as the Fountain of life and blessedness, which
breathes a calm and holy spirit through its whole frame
and structure, its provisions for making the soul
" strong in the Lord and in the power of his might,"—
these characteristics of the dispensation of Jesus are a
pledge, that it is adapted by divine energy to give
endless expansion to the sentiment of the infinite.
It is wonderful how harmoniously the Christian sys¬
tem has united the most practical with the most sub¬
lime spirit. While its precepts are direct, plain, and
searching, so that no duty or crisis can occur in life, for
which you will not find a guide in the principles it
supplies, it suggests or discloses, at the same time, the
most lofty views of all that is exclusively spiritual, of
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all that may truly be called eternal. Thus it provides
most amply, on the one hand, for the moral, and on the
other for the religious developement of our nature. It
is a mistake to consider these two as identical; but in
their just and beautiful harmony may be found one
of the internal proofs, that the Gospel of Christ is a
system of divine wisdom, admirably fitted to elicit and
cherish the full action of man's whole nature. The
provision for the infinite, for the sentiment peculiarly
religious, is that part of the beneficent power of Chris¬
tianity which, amidst the downward tendencies of
earthly things, we are most apt to neglect or under¬
value. Yet it is here, that we most need its elevating
and sustaining infiuence; it is here, that, by its holy
truths, it dispenses the refreshment which the soul
craves. " It seemed good to infinite goodness and
wisdom, to form a noble piece of coin out of clay, and
to stamp his own image upon it, with this inscription,—
The earthly son of God"* But without those aspira¬
tions towards the eternal, which Christianity inspires,
this divine image will lose its true expression, will be
dulled and tarnished, if not broken into fragments.
Without these, the spirit of man, hovering over the
restless flood of perishing things, " like the birds in the
days of the deluge, will seek a resting-place in vain,
and at last sink in the waters."
Let us remember, then, that the temples which we
build, by the purposes to which they are devoted, be¬
come significant of this high and holy tendency of our
Christian faith. Amidst this limited and transient con¬
dition of being, they stand day by day pointing silently
• Leighton's Works, IV. 176,
DISCOURSE THIRD.
73
towards heaven, as if to remind us that the home of
the soul is in the infinite and eternal, as if to admon¬
ish us that all our best and most strenuous aims should
be upward, ever upward, as if to keep in perpetual
remembrance the beautiful meaning of those expressive
words of the Saviour, " Believe me, the hour cometh,
when ye shall neither in this mountain, nor yet at
Jerusalem, worship the Father : God is a spirit, and
they that worship him must worship him in spirit and
m truth."
I have thus attempted to set forth some of those
objects or purposes, of which the sanctuary may be
regarded as the significant symbol.
To express the whole in few words, a Christian
temple is the symbol of spiritual life in the individual
heart and through the community. To the individual,
it represents that power of devotion and of religious
knowledge, which, being inwrought in the structure of
the soul and laid deep among the materials of thought,
calls into enlightened action the principle of earnest
faith, on which our nature leans for its best support ;
furnishing strength in the hour of weakness and solace
in the hour of suifering, protection amidst temptation
and stoutness of heart amidst despondency ; growing
with the wants and exigencies of the free spirit, and
helping it to go forth on its heavenward path and be
glorified. To the community, the house of worship
stands as the memorial of that moral power, which is
the golden clasp of the great interests of society, bind¬
ing together in salutary union the elements of all that
is precious, noble, and life-giving. Loose this, and the
parts, of which the frame-work of the relations of social
10
74
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happiness is composed, fall asunder, and nothing is
ultimately left to save men from themselves. The re¬
ligious element hallows our relation to each other, by
encircling it with our relation to the common Father.
There is a more vital principle of the public welfare,
than any which the shallow calculation of the short¬
sighted politician recognises; and that is a healthy
spiritual life diffused through the different parts of the
social frame, cementing them and breathing upon them
a kindly influence as from heaven. The Bible is the
true law book, and God the rightful legislator.
The occasion leads me to advert very briefly to,the
application of these views to the condition of our own
community. We leave our religious institutions en¬
tirely to voluntary effort. Religion, as a public agency,
must be upheld among us solely by such aid, as the
conviction and the conscience of each individual may
prompt him to bestow. We have refused to this vital
interest the provision, which we extend to the functions
of education and civil government ; and, having adopted
this course, we must now pursue it for better or for
worse. But we should be reminded how weighty is
the responsibility thus thrown upon individuals, who
stand free to give or to withhold help for this great
central interest of society. How vitally important does
it become, that the public mind should be enlightened,
and the public conscience kept alive on this subject ;
that an intimate and quickening persuasion of the ne¬
cessity of religious institutions should be more deeply
placed among the mind's most familiar convictions ; and
that the worship of God and the instructions of Chris¬
tianity should be regarded as "part and parcel" of the
social state. Wherever we see a church in our cities
DISCOURSE THIRD.
75
or villages, let us hope that we see a pledge of affec¬
tionate respect for those sacred institutions, which
maintain and stimulate, as a public principle, the sense
of accountableness to God ; which afford a holy
ground of common interest, whither we can retire from
the competitions and exasperations of life ; and which
exhibit the sanctions even of ordinary duties in a light,
that shows them high as heaven and lasting as eternity.
God grant that there may be all this meaning in the
temples which we build; for, if any dependence is to
be placed on the records of man's experience, or on
the voice of divine truth, it cannot be questioned, that,
when the appurtenances which dignify, or the guards
which fortify the religious sentiment, are severed from
the confidence and love of a people, there is rottenness
at the heart of that people's system, there is a work of
withering decay in progress, and on their walls may be
inscribed, as on those of Babylon's monarch, " God
hath numbered thy kingdom and finished it."
And now, brethren and friends, let us turn our
thoughts to the special interests of this occasion. By
the divine blessing, you have been permitted to under¬
take and complete this edifice for the service of the
Most High. When the progress of time rendered it
necessary or expedient to leave the sanctuary, in which
you and your fathers had so long worshipped, and
which is remembered with affectionate respect for the
many pleasant and holy associations that had gathered
around it, you began the Christian enterprise of build¬
ing a new church, having invoked the protecting care
of Him, to whose honor it was to be consecrated. You
have finished the undertaking in the most praiseworthy
76
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manner. With judgment and taste, that are highly
creditable to those who have superintended, and to
those who have executed the work, you have erected
a sanctuary, the chaste beauty and the comely dignity
of which correspond to the honor due to religious in¬
stitutions. God grant that the purposes, for which this
house of our solemnities has been placed here, may be
abundantly answered, that it may stand forth to us,
our children, and our successors, as the symbol of that
spiritual life which the Gospel of Jesus, when truly
received, imparts to the individual soul and to the prin¬
ciples of a community.
We dedicate this sanctuary to the only living and
true God, to the unrivalled, undivided Majesty of the
Everlasting One, to the Universal Father, whose provi¬
dence is our cloud by day and our pillar of fire by
night, to Him who is light and love, to the King eter¬
nal, immortal, and invisible, whose power and godhead
are manifested in the world about us, and in the spirit
that quickeneth.
We dedicate it to Jesus Christ, the Saviour, to him
who was sanctified and sent of the Father, who came
to seek and to save that which was lost, the way, the
truth, and the life, the Redeemer from sin and sorrow,
whom having not seen we love, in whom, though now
we see him not, yet believing, we rejoice with joy un¬
speakable and full of glory.
We dedicate it to the Holy Spirit of grace and truth,
to that spirit by which God imparts to his children the
energy of enlightening infiuences and the peace of holy
tranquillity, which is not the spirit of fear, but of power,
of love, and of a sound mind, and by which they who
DISCOURSE THIRD.
77
receive it are made meet for the inheritance of saints
in light.
We consecrate this house to the truth as it is in
Jesus, to no human creed, no confession of faith de¬
vised by man, no form of words constructed to hold
the mind in bondage, but to the free, broad, sanctify¬
ing truth as it is in Jesus, to the word of life which was
taught by one who spake as man never spake, the word
which liveth and abideth for ever, and maketh wise
unto salvation.
We consecrate our church to the cause of good
morals and of man's improvement, to that spirit of pro¬
gress which respects the wisdom gathered from the
experience of ages, and the distinctions established by
God, to those principles which lie at the foundation
of the true welfare of society, the principles of pure
morality, of order, of justice, of peace.
We devote this pulpit to the ministry of reconcilia¬
tion,— the ministry that breathes devotion and charity,
that calls the sinner from the error of his ways, and
directs him to the purifying fountain opened in the
Gospel, that gives light to the inquiring mind, relief to
the distressed, consolation to the sorrow-stricken, and
leads forth the soul into the holy freedom of God's
children.
We consecrate this communion-table to the blessed
influences of the service, which commemorates him
who said, "Do this in remembrance of me;" and the
voice of music and the organ notes we would dedicate
to the strains of holy praise, of heartfelt thanksgiving,
and of the soul's purest emotions.
0 Thou, who " dost prefer before all temples the
upright heart and pure," accept this oflering at our
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hands. Let thy presence overshadow and hallow this
place; and may the prayers and praises, which shall
ascend hence, rise as grateful incense to thy throne in
Heaven.
Brethren and friends, we have now given this sanc¬
tuary to God. Let us not forget, that we must give
ourselves to him in faith, obedience, and devotion.
" Know ye not, that ye are the temple of God, and
that the spirit of God dwelleth in you 1 " From Sab¬
bath to Sabbath we shall come hither to worship the
Father of our spirits, and to cry unto him for mercy
and pardon; may we bring none but that sacrifice with
which he is well pleased, even the sacrifice of humility,
of penitence, of thankfulness. We shall come hither
to listen to the things that belong to our everlasting
peace, to inquire after the wisdom of heaven, to wait
for the light which breaks forth from the Scriptures of
truth; may we attend as those who have a felt persua¬
sion of a personal interest in the things of eternity;
may the word be so dispensed from this place, and so
received by you, that we may ever go hence wiser
and better. We shall come hither to commemorate
our Saviour at the table, which bears the consecrated
memorials of his sufierings and death ; may it ever be
to us a service of Christian love, an excitement to
Christian improvement; never may we pervert and
narrow it into an occasion of exclusiveness ; but may
we regard it as the scene of fellowship with those of
every name, who acknowledge the same Master. We
shall come hither to consecrate our children to God at
the holy font; may we feel that these objects of our
affection are living spirits to be educated for Heaven;
and may the baptismal water be the emblem of that
I
DISCOURSE THIRD. 79
purity, to which it will be our, fervent prayer that we
may be enabled to train them in the Christian life.
We shall come hither when our hearts are oppressed
with the cares or saddened with the griefs of life, and
when they are animated with prosperity and joy ; may
we find that relieving power which shall lighten the load
of anxiety or sorrow, and may we hallow our blessings
by placing around them the associations of religious
gratitude. If such be the infiuences found here, then
will it be well for us, that we have built and consecrated
this house; then may our affections gather fast and
strong to this spot, and our hearts cleave to the sanc¬
tuary with their purest and holiest love. It is a part
of the gorgeous description of the New Jerusalem, in
the sublime visions of the Apocalypse, that there was
" no temple therein." Thus beautifully is it signified,
that the aid afforded to our imperfection by the sanc¬
tuaries we rear will no longer be needed, when the
soul shall be emancipated into that world where her
whole action will be the true worship, her whole growth
the true service. Let it be our prayer, that the power
of inward life found here may be such as to prepare
us for the time, when there shall be " no temple," but
the spirit devoted to truth and to God !
of âevbfteo
AT THE
DEDICATION OF THE NEW CHURCH,
ebected bt the
CONGREGATIONAL SOCIETY IN WATERTOWN,
September 7th, 1836.
I. ANTHEM.
Lifl up your heads, eternal gates,
unfold to entertain the King of glory :
see, he comes with all his shining
train. Who is this King of glory.'
Who.' The Lord of hosts renowned :
he alone is King of glory, he alone is
King, who is with glory crowned.
II. INTRODÜCTOEY PRAYER.
Br the Rev. Joseph Field.
III.
SELECTION FROM THE SCRIPTURES.
By the Rev. Daniel Austin.
IV. ORIGINAL HYMN.
By Mr. Frederick A. Whitney.
To Thee, great Spirit, by whose will
Our labors have been blest.
Whose arm doth shield from daily ill.
Whose eye doth guard our rest;
We consecrate this chosen place,
An offering to thy name.
Here seek henceforth thy needed
grace.
Thy glorious truth proclaim.
Nor only here the accepted strain
Shall rise, since not alone
At Sychar's mount, or Judah's fane,
Thou, Father, shalt be known :
But Nature is a temple now.
And all, who worship Thee,
In truth must worship, while they bow
The soul, as bow the knee.
Their service such, pure One, attend
Thy children's prayer above ;
In gladness, grief, temptation, send
Thy counsel, strength, and love.
Guide thou his steps, who leads our
way
To Thee and truth divine ;
Let all his words Thy will obey.
And all his life be Thine.
As Israel came to dedicate
The latter house of old ;
While holy priests were called to wait,
And clouds of incense rolled;
Thy glory sanctified the hour.
Thy spirit warmed each heart;
Thus ever. Lord, in love and power,
Thy spirit here impart.
V. DEDICATORY PRAYER.
By the Rev. Samuel Ripley.
VI. ANTHEM.
And will the great eternal God
On earth establish his abode.'
And will He from his radiant throne
Avow our temples as his own f
These walls we to thy honor raise;
Long may they echo to thy praise.
And thou, descending, fill the place
With choicest tokens of thy grace.
Hère let the great Redeemer reign.
With all the glories of his train;
Whilst power divine his word attends.
To conquer foes and cheer his fhends.
Great King of Glory, come.
And with thy favor crown
This temple as thy dome.
This people as thine own.
VII. SERMON.
By the Rev. Convers Francis.
VIII. ORIGINAL HYMN.
By Mr. Theodore Parker.
The humble pile our fathers raised.
Has bowed beneath Time's weighty
hand ;
They too have gone, whose voices
praised
Jehovah in a savage land.
And now, O Lord, we build again.
To seek thy favor and thy face.
Another and a nobler fane.
And ask thy blessing on this place.
Here send thy Holy Spirit down,
With favors from thy throne above.
Our hearts to fill, our lives to crown ;
O give us faith, and hope, and love.
And may there dwell within this place
Each pure desire and holy trust.
To fill our souls with heavenly grace.
When these walls crumble to the
dust.
IX. CONCLUDING PRAYER.
By the Rev. Samuel Gilman.
X. ANTHEM.
Glory be to God on high, and on
earth peace, good will to men. Glory
be to God on high, peace on earth,
good will to men. Blessed is he who
Cometh in the name of the Lord.
Hosanna in the highest. Glory he to
God on high. Hallelujah. Amen.
XI. BENEDICTION.
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