m-j. a?. m (oat ' i ■ >/" J Jar, '** fT /> r*- in r to 7. /Is /I Jfi ,4 ,,' . , ••,. ^ ^ /na n^ U-#. .4A 40 . 2/ / jfr/*IA^ff- n C SERMON DELIVERED AT THE REV. JARED SPARKS, TO I TORAL CARE OK I HKST INDEPENDENT CHURCH IN BALTIMO MAY 5. 1819. BY WILLIAM ELLERY CHANGING, iER OF THE CHURCH OF CHRIST, IN FEDERAL STR1 K.T, BOSTON *v • \ 1 V PUBLISHED BY REQl l - BOSTON: LOTTED f.V HEWJ 1B19. SERMON. 1 THESS. V. 21. Prove all things ; hold fast that which is good. THE peculiar circumstances of this occasion not only justify, nut seem to demand a departure from the course generally follow- ed by preachers at the introduction of a brother into the sacred office. It is usual to ^-jM-ak of the nature, design, duties and ad- vantages of the Christian ministry , and on these topicks I should now be happy to insist, did I not remember that a minister is to be given this day to a religious society, whose peculiarities of opinion have drawn upon them much remark, and may I not add, much reproach. Many good mind-, many Bincere 1 am aware, are apprehensive that the solemnities of thi* day are to give a degree of influence to principles which they M and injurious. The fears and nnxities of such men I n spec! ; and, believing that they are grounded in part on mistake^ I have thought it my duty to lay before you as clearly as I can, some of the distinguishing opinions of thai c\-.\-** of Christians in oar coun- try, who are known to sympathize with this religi **"st a. !c your patience, for such a subject is not to !••• do patched i narrow compass. I must also ;i-k you to remember, that it i c xhibit in a single discourse, our mow of every doc- no of revelation, much less the difference! of opinion which e known to subsist among ourselves. I shall coonde myself to topicks on which our sentiments have been misrepresented, or which distinguish us most widelj from others. May 1 not hope to be heard with candour ? God deliver us all from prejudice, and unkindness, and till us with the love of truth and vinue. There are two natural divisions under which my thoughts will be arranged. I shall endeavour to unfold, 1st, the principles which we adopt in interpreting the Scriptures. Anil Sdlv, some of the doctrines which the Scriptures, so interpreted, seem to us clearly to express. 1. We regard the Scriptures as the record of God's successive revelation to mankind, ami particularly of the last and most per- fect revelation of his will by Jesus Christ. Whatever doctrines seem to us to be clearly taught in the Scriptures, we receive with- out reserve or exception. We do not. however, attach equal importance to all the books in this collection. Our religion, we believe, lies chiefly in the New Testament. The dispensation of Moses, compared with that of Jesus, we consider as impe.lect, earthly, obscure, adapted to the childhood of the human race, a preparation for a nobler system, and chierly useful now as serving to confirm and illustrate the Christian Srriptures, Jesus Christ is the only master of Christians, and whatever he taught, either during his personal ministry, or by his inspired apostles, we regard as of divine authority, and profess to make the rule of our lives. This authority, which we give to the Scriptures, is a reason, we conceive, for studying them with peculiar care, and for inquiring anxiously into the principles of interpretation, by which their true meaning may be ascertained. The principles adopted by the class of Christians, in whose name I speak, need to be explained, because they are often misunderstood. We are particularly ac- cused of making an unwarrantable use of reason in the interpre- tation of Scripture. We are said to exalt .season above revela- tion, to prefer our own wisdom to God's. Loose and undefined charges of this kind, are circulated so freely, and with such inju- rious intentions, that we think it due to ourselves, and to the cause of truth, to express our views with some particularity. Our leading principle in interpreting Scripture is this, that the Bible is a book written for men, in the language of men, and that its meaning is to be sought in the same manner, as that of other books. We believe that God, when he condescends to speak and write, submits, if we may so say, to the established rules of speak- ing and writing. How else would the Scriptures avail us more, than if communicated in an unknown tongue ? Now all books, and all conversation, require in the reader or hearer, the constant exercise of reason ; for their true import is only to be obtained by continual comparison and inference. Hu- man language, you well know, admits various interpretations, and every word and every sentence must be modified and explained according to the subject which is discussed, according to the pur- poses, feelings, circumstances and principles of the writer, and according to the genius and idioms of the language which he uses. These are acknowledged principles in the interpretation of human writings ; and a man, whose words we should explain without ref- erence to these principles, would reproach us justly with a crim- inal want of candour, and an intention of obscurig or distorting his meaning. Were the Bible written in a language and style of its own, did it consist of words, which admit but a single sense, and of senten- ces wholly detached from each other, there would be no, place for the principles now laid down. We could not reason about it, as about other writings. But such a book would be of little worth; and, perhaps, of all books, the Scriptures correspond least to this description. The word of God bears the stamp of the same hand, which we see in his works. It has infinite connexions and depen- dencies. Every proposition is linked with others, and is to be compared with others, that its full and precise import may be un- derstood. Nothing stands alone. The New Testament is built on the Old. The Christian dispensation is a continuation of the Jewish, the completion of a vast scheme of providence, requiring great extent of view in the reader. Still more, the Bible treats of subjects on which we receive ideas from other sources, beside* itself; such subjects as the nature, passions, relations, and duties of man; and it expects us to restrain and modify its language by the known truths which observation and experience furnish on these topicks.- We profess not to know a book, which demands a more frequent exercise of reason than the Bible. In addition to the remark* now made on its infinite connexions, we ■ ve. that its style no where affects the preci-ion of science, or the accuracy of defini- tion. Its lane trly glowing, hold and figurative, de- manding more frequent departure! from the literal sense, than that of our own age and country. more continual exer tt the diii portions of this book, instead of b >iog confined to general troth*, refer perpetually to the times wheo of society, to modes of thin irch, to feelings tod oaag issed away, and without the know! h we are all times, and | We find, too, tint some of thei irit did n ties of their nn owleilgc ot" Iheir feelings, the in pre- parations for ui With • the Bible, I it our boun eason upon it perpetually, to com] ter to the spirit, too seek m the nature ol the - writer, hit true m ike use of what is known, for explaining wh a i- ufficult, md for disCOl new truti Need I descend to particular! mand the' exercise of reason I . le in which they generally speak of< observe how habitually ipplv to him hum i:\ pasj Recollect the f Christ, th it be sword ; that u: no life in us ; that we b a the right eye; and a rati nuinl>«T of passages equal!, d un- limited. Recollect the unqualified maimer m which it ■ at Christians, thai they possess all things, know all things do all things. Recollect the verbal contradiction and James, and the apparent ting, with the general doctrines and < extend the enumeration indefinitely ; and who doe- not we must limit all these passages by the known attributes ot ot Jesus Christ, and of human nature, and by the circumst under which they were written, so as to give the language a quite different import from what it would require, had it ben applied to different beings, or used in different connexions ? Enough has been said to -how in what sense w e of reason in interpreting Scripture. From a variety of possible in- terpretations, we select that which accord* with the nature of thr ; mbpct, and the state of the writer, with the connexion of tfee passage, with the general strain of Scripture, with the know* diameter nnd will of God, and with the obvious and acknowledg- ed laws of nature* In other words^ we believe that God never contradicts in one part of Scripture, what he teaches in another; and never contradicts, in revelation, what he teaches in his works and providence. And we, therefore, distrust every inter- pretation, which, after deliberate attention, seems repugnant to any established truth. We reason about the Bible precisely as civilians do about the constitution under which we live ; who, you know, are accustomed to limit one provision of that venera- ble instrument by others, and to fix the precise import of its parts by enquiring into its general spirit, into the intentions of its au- thors, and into the prevalent feelings, impressions, and circum- stances of the time when it was framed. Without these princi- ples of interprrt'tion, we frankly acknowledge, that we cannot defend the divine authrity of the Scriptures Deny us this lati- tude, and me must abandon this book to its enemies. We do not announce these principles as original, or peculiar to ourselves ; all Christians occasionally adopt them, not except- ing those, who most vehemently decry them, when they happen to menace some favorite article of their creed. All Christians are compelled to use them in their controversies with infidel9. — All sects employ them in their warfare with one another. All willingly avail themselves of reason, when it can be pressed into the service of their own party, and only complain of it, when its weapons wound themselves. None reason more frequently than our adversaries. It is astonishing what a fabrick they rear from & few slight hints about the fall of our first parents ; and how ingen- iously they extract from detached passages, mysterious doctrines about the divine nature. We do not blame them for reasoning so abundantly, but for violating the fundamental rules of reasoning, for sacrificing the plain to the obscure, and the general strain of Scripture, to a scanty number of insulated texts. We object strongly to the contemptuous manner in which human reason is often spoken of by our adversaries, because it leads, we believe, to universal scepticism. If reason be so dread- fully darkened by the fall, that its most decisive judgments on religion are unworthy of trust, then Christianity, and even natu- ral theology, must be abandoned ; for the existence and veracity of God, and the divine original of Christianity, are conclusions of reason, and must stand or fall with it. If revelation be at war with this faculty, it subverts itself, for the great question of its truth is left by God to be decided at the bar of reason. It is wor- thy of remark, how nearly the bigot and the sceptick approach.— Both would annihilate our confidence in our faculties, and both throw doubt and confusion over every truth. We honour reve- lation too highly to make it the antagonist of reason, or to believe that it calls us to renounce our highest powers. We indeed grant, that the use of reason in religion, is accom- panied with danger, But we ask any honest man to look back on the history of the church, and say, whether the renunciation of it be not still more dangerous. Besides, it is a plain fact, that men reason as erroneously on all subjects as on religion. W h not know the wild and groundless theories, wh, been fra- med in physical and political science ? But who ever rap] that we must cease to exercise reason on nature n cause men have erred for ages in explaining them ! that the passions continually, ami ion : itallv. disturb the rational faculty in its inquiries into revelation. The ami contrive to find doctrine^ in the Bible, which (avow tbeit l> dominion. The timid ami tern, and the n il, a \ isi vicious can find e samp bet or easei hope of a I refined contn\ e to light on d by vulgar handling. But tin the 1..--1 in reli and general interest ; and this faculty, of coo* not to ligioo, nnJeei 1 it mi- illy. The ti a the aim it erroure, which bare darken that »*e are ! disparage oar, powers, but I cum- •pectly, uprightly. The worst err in th.a church, m It i« li j members hmpticit faith I the growth of die darkest tun. -. ■ ben t l hiKty encouraged bad men and enthusiasts to broach lb ir d: - Inven tio n s , ami to stifle the faint 1 - of reason, \>\ the fill W« in ij . God has green us a ratiooaJ md will call m to m may let it ileep, bui ire do 10 .u om peril ' dress- ed to us as rational brim;-. W, m .iv srisb, in our lloth, thai had given n 1 tysu limit- ingand inf( But inch 1 lystem would ' with the whole character of our present exit im to take revelation, u it 1 tad to interpret it by the help of the faculties, which it every \\l on which it is founded To the views now given, an objecn mosoory urged from the character of God. We are' told, thai God being infinitely than men, his discoveries will Burpass human reason. In a. i.ition from such a teacher, we ought 10 expect proportion*. which we cannot reconcile with one toother, and wha b in..\ to contradict established truths; and it becomes n not f or explain them away, but to believe, and adore, and to submit our weak and earn il n aton, to the divine word. To tbil objec- tion, we have two short . first, that it is impos- sible, that a teacher of infinite wisdom", should expose those, whom he would teach, to infinite errour. But if once we admit, that propositions, which in their literal sense appeal 1 plainly re- pugnant to one another, or to any known truth, are still to be lit- 8 ernlly understood and received, what possible limit can we set to the belief of contradictions ? What shelter have we from the wild- est fanaticism, which can always quote passages, that in their lit- er; 1 and obvious sense, give support to its extravagancies ? How- can the Protestant escape from transubstantiation, a doctrine most clearly taught us, if the submission of reason, now contended for, be a duty ? How can we ever hold fast the truth of revelation, for if one apparent contradiction may be true, so may another, and the proposition, that Christianity is false, though involving incon- sistency, may still be a verity. We answer again, that, if God be infinitely wise, he cannot sport with the understandings of his creatures. A wise teacher discovers his wisdom in adapting himself to the capacities of his pupils, not in perplexing them with what is unintelligible, not in. distressing them with apparent contradiction, not in filling them with a sceptical distrust of their powers. An infinitely wise teach- er, who knows the precise extent of our minds, and the best method of enlightening them, will surpass all other instructors in bringing down truth to our apprehension, and in showing its love- liness and harmony. We ought, indeed, to expect occasional obscurity in such a book as the Bible, which was written for past and future ages, as well as for the present. But God's wisdom is a pledge, that whatever is necessary for 21s, and necessary for sal- vation, is revealed too plainly to be mistaken, and too consistently to be questioned by a sound and upright mind. It is not the mark of wisdom, to use an unintelligible phraseology, to communicate what is above our capacities, to confuse and unsettle the intellect, by appearances of contradiction. We honour our heavenly Teacher too much to ascribe to him such a revelation. A reve- lation is a gift of light. It cannot thicken and multiply our per- plexities. II. Having thus stated the principles according to which we in- terpret the Scriptures, I now proceed to the second great head of this discourse, which is, to state some of the views, which we de- rive from that sacred book, particularly those which distinguish us from other Christians. First. We believe in the doctrine of God's unity, or that there is one God, and one only. To this truth we give infinite impor- tance, and we feel ourselves bound to take heed, lest any man spoil us of it by vain philosophy. The proposition, that there is one God, seems to us exceedingly plain. We understand by it, that there is one being, one mind, one person, one intelligent agent, and one only, to whom underived and infinite perfection and dominion belong. We conceive, that these words could have con- veyed no other meaning to the simple and uncultivated people, who were set apart to be the depositaries of this great truth, and who were utterly incapable of understanding those hair-breadth distinctions between being and person, which the sagacity of latter ages has discovered. We find no intimation, that this language Mas to be taken in an unusual sense, or that God's unity was a quite different thing from the oneness of other intelligent beings. We object to the doctrine of the Trinity, that it subvert! the unity of God. Accoiding to this doctrine, there are three infi- nite and equal persons, possessing: supreme divinity, called the Fa- ther, Son, and Holy Ghost. Each of these persons, as described by theologians, has his own particular consciousness, will and per- ceptions. They love each other, converse with each other, and delight in each other's society. They perform different part* in man's redemption, eacli having hi* appropriate office, and neither doing the work of the other. The Son is mediator, and not the Father. The Father sends the Son, and is not himielf ^ent : nor is he conscious, like the Son, of taking ffe*h. Here then, \se have three intelligent agents, possesed of different c<> different wills, and different perceptions.perforraing different acts, and sustaining different relations : ami if the* I > not im- ply and constitute three minds or beil ire utterly at I to know how three minds or be inn are t » be formed. It is differ- ence of properties, and acts, and COM I, which leads us to the belief of different intelligent beings, and if this mark fail us, our whole knowledge falls ; we have do proof, thai all I and persons in the universe are not one and the same mind. When we attempt to conceive of three G in do m more, than represent to ourselves three ag-ote, distinguti from each other by similar marks and pecuh u ities to those, winch separate the persons of the Trinity ; and when common Chris- tians hear these persons spoken of as com ich other, loving each other, and performing different acts, how can they help regaiding them as different beings, different minds ? We do then, with all earnestness, though without reproaching our brethren, protect against the unnatural and IMSCriptural doc- trine of the Trinity. " To us," as to the apostle ami the primitive Chistians, u there is one God, even the Father." With Jesus, we worship the Father, as the only living and true God.' We are astonished, that any man can read the New Testament, and avoid the conviction, that the Father alotie is God. We hear our Sa- viour continually appropriating this character to the Father. We find the Father continually distinguished from Jesus by this title. " God sent his Son." " God anointed Jesus." Now, how singu- lar and inexplicable is this phraseology, which fills the Nesv Tes- tament, if this title belong equally to Jesus, and if a principal object of this book is to reveal him as God, as partaking equally with the Father in supreme divinity? VV e challenge our oppo- nents to adduce one passage in the New Testament, where the word God means three persons, where it is not limited to one per- son, and where, unless turned from its usual sense by the con- nexion, it does not mean the Father. Can stronger proof bo given, that the doctrine of three persons in the Godhead is not a fundamental doctrine of ^Christianity r This doctrine, were it true, must, from its difficulty, singularity and importance, have been laid down with great clearness, guard- • John, 17 2 10 ed with great care, and stated with all possible precision. But where does this statement appear ? From the many passages, which treat of God, we ask for one, one only, in which we are told, that he is a threefold being, or, that he is three persons, or, that he is Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. On the contrary in the New Testament, where, at least, we might expect many express assertions of this nature, God is declared to be one, without the letst attempt to prevent the acceptation of the words in their common sense j and he is always spoken of and addressed in the singular number, that is, in language which was universally under- stood to intend a single person, and to which no other idea could have been attached, without an express admonition. So entirely do the Scriptures abstain from staring the Trinity, that when our opponents would insert it into their creeds and doxologies, they are compelled to leave the Bible, and to invent forms of words al- together unsanctioned by scriptural phraseology. That a doctrine so strange, so liable to misapprehension, so fundamental as this is said to be, and requiring such careful exposition, should be left so undefined and uprotected, to be made out by inference, and to be hunted through distant and detached parts of Scripture, this is a difficulty, which; we think, no ingenuity can explain. We have another difficulty. Chistianity, it must be remem- bered, was planted and grew up amidst sharp-sighted enemies, who overlooked no objectionable part of the system, and who must have fastened with great earnestness on a doctrine^involving such apparent contradictions as the Trinity. We cannot conceive an opinion against which the Jews, who prided themselvei on their adherence to God's unity, would have raised an equal clamour. Now, how happens it, that in the apostolick writings, which re- late so much to objections against Christianity, and to the contro- versies, which grew out of this religion, not one word is said, im- plying that objections were brought against the gospel from the ooctnne ot the Trinity, not one word is uttered in its defence and explanation, not a word to rescue it from reproach and mistake ? This argument has almost the force of demonstration. We are persuaded, that had three divine persons been announced by the nrst preachers of Christianity, all equal, and all infinite, one of whom was the very Jesus, who had lately died on a cross, this pe- culiarity of Christianity would have almost absorbed every other, and the great labor of the apostles would have been to repel the continual assaults, which it would have awakened. But the fact is.tnat not a whisper of objection to Christianity, on that account, reaches our ears from the apostolick age. In the epistles we see not a trace «f controversy called forth bv the Trinity. *J?iL ]' V fl Cr Sections to this doctrine, drawn from its practical influence. We regard it as unfavourable to devotion, by dividing and distracting the mind in its communion with God. It is a great excellence of the doctrine of God's unity, that it offers finwl °r N fi ° BJECT °J 8 . u P reme ho ™age, adoration and love, one in- I 1 il f r - 0,1 % Be "* of Be * n S s > one original and fountain, to v.hom we may re fer all good, on whom ail our powers and affec 11 tions may be concentrated, and whose lovely and venerable nature uiav pervade all our thoughts. True pietj. when directed to an undivided Deity, hasa chasteness. a singleness, most favourable to religious awe, and love. Now the Trinity seN before u< three distinct objects of supreme adoration ; three infinite persons, hav- ing equal claims on our hearts ; three divine agents, performing different offices, and to be acknou ipped in differ- ent relations. And i*. it possinle, we a*k, that tiie weak and limit- ed mind of man can attach if»elfto thest with the same power and is to one infinite Father* the onlj First ( whom all tlie blessings of nature and redemption mi tntre and source f Must not devotion be distracted bj he equal and rival claims of three equal p< nd munt not the worship ol conscientious. tarbed by sppn lest he withhold from one or another of tl due proportion of homage ? We also think, that the doctrine of the Trinif \ 'ion, Dot only by joining to the Father other objects of worship, hut by taking from - due, and transferring it to the Son. Thii ii ■ That Jesus Ch d fnto the infinite Divii ild be more interesting than the Father. i> ; .lit be ex- .1 from histoi of hum. i Men want as object of worship like themselves, and secret of idolatry lies in this propensity. AGod v cl >thod in our form, and feeling our wanta and son uVstnoui w.-ik na- ture more strongly, than a Father in beaven, i i ble and unapproachable, savi purified i We think, too. tha iliarofficea ai as by the popular theology, make him the mosf atfra- Godhead. The Father i- the di vin- dicator of the On the other hand, the Son, the brightn< stands between the incensed Deity and guilty aumanitj his meek head to the storms, and his sword of the divine justice, hears our whole load of punish and purchases, with his blood heaven. Need we state the effect ol praentatious, - cially on common minds/or whom Christianity ed, and whom it seeks to bring to the Father, as the l"\ We do believe, that I Kering God, tends strongly to absorb the mind, and to draw if from objects, just as the human tenderness of the Virgin Mary hai en her so conspicuous a place in the devotions of tha chun Rome. We believe, too, that this worship, though attractive, is not most fitted to spiritualize the mind, that it awakens human transport, rather than that deep veneration of the moral perefect- tions of God, which is tha essence of piety. Secondly. Having thus given our views of the unity of God, I proceed to observe, that we believe in the unity of Jesus Christ, W* believe that Jesnsis one mind, one soul, one being, as truly 12 one as we are. and equally distinct from the one God. We com- plain of the doctrine of the Trinity, that not satisfied with making God three beings, it makes Jesus Christ two beings, and thus in- troduces infinite confusion into our conceptions of his character. This corruption of Christianity, alike repugnant to common sense, and to the general strain of Scripture, is a remaikable proof of the power of a false philosophy in disfiguring the simple truth of Jesus. According to this doctrine, Jesus Christ, instead of being one mind. one conscious intelligent princip!e,\vhom we can understand, consists of two souls, two minds, the one divine, the other human ; the one weak, the other almighty ; the one ignorant, the other omniscient. Now we maintain, that this is to make Christ two beings. To denominate him one person, one being, and yet to suppose him made up of two minds, infinitely different from each other, is to abuse and confound language, and to throw darkness over all our conceptions of intelligent natures. According to the common doctrines, each of these two minds in Christ has its own consciousness, its own will, its own perceptions. They have in fact no common properties. The divine mind feels none of the wants and sorrows of the human, and the human is infinitely re- moved from the perfection and happiness of the divine. Can you conceive of two being in the universe more distinct? We have always thought, that one person was constituted and distinguished by one consciousness. The doctrine, that one and the same per- son should have two consciousnesses, two wills, two souls, in- finitely different from each other, this we think an enormous tax on human credulity. We say, that if a doctrine, so strange, so difficult, so remote from all the previous conceptions of men, be indeed a part, and an essential part of revelation, it must be taught with great dis- tinctness; and we ask our brethren to point to some plain, direct passage, where Christ is said to be composed of two minds infi- nitely different, yet constituting one person. We find none. Our opponents, indeed, tell us, that this doctrine is necessary to the harmony of the Scriptures, that some texts ascribe to Jesus Christ human, and others divine properties, and that to reconcile these, we must suppose two minds, to which these properties may be referred. In other words, for the purpose of reconciling certain difficult passages, which a just criticism can in a great degree, if not wholly explain, we must invent an hypothesis vastly more dif- ficult, and involving gross absurdity. We are to find our wav out ot a labyrinth by a clue, which conducts us into mazes infinitely more inextricable. Surely, if Jesus Christ felt that he consisted of two minds, and that this was a leading feature of his religion, his phraseology respecting himself would have been coloured by this peculiarity. the universal language of men is framed upon the idea, that one person ,s one mind and one soul; and when the multitude heard this language from the lips of Jesus, they must have taken it in Us usual sense, and must have referred to a single soul, all which 13 he spoke, unless expressly instructed to interpret it differently. But where do we find this instruction r W here do vou meet in the New Testament, the phraseology which abounds in Trinita- rian books, and which nece§sarily grew from the doctrine of two natures in Jesus? Where does this divine teacher sav. This I speak as God, and this a* man ; this is true only of my human mind, this only of my divine r Where do we find in the epistles a trace of this strange phraseology r No where. It was not needed in that day. It was demanded bf the en or> of a later age. We believe, then, that Christ is one mind. on»- being, and I add, a being distinct from the one God. 1 hat Clu i»t is not the one God, Dot the same being u it h the Father, is a necessary inference from our former head, in which we saw. that t: three persons inOod is a fiction. Hut on to important a subject, 1 would add a few remarks. V that oor opponents would u one striking fact. Jesus, in bis preaching, contii God. The word v\ this word, ever mean hi he most plainly disting 1 and himself, and • his disciples. Hov a the manifestation of Christ, u God, \\a* i pi tianity, our adversaries musl mr. If we examine the past -hed front God, we shall see, that tlo-v r other being, hut seem to labour to axpn - con- tinually spoken ofay the 8on o) his powei - lod, working mira< was with him, iudgingjustly bee i o ou: beliel. he waw ..md as able ot himself to do oothiag. The New Testament kJUUi nith this language. Now we ask, what ii ted and intended to mal ined, that J (, /.to whom he was - ly declared to be inferior, tJ u he was sent, and from whom he professed to I his message and power ? Let it here be rememtx bodily form, and humble circum- Jesus, must all have prepared men to in?- it un- qualified manner, the tai 1 which his 1 wa> declared. Why tl tntinnally* and without limitation, if Jesus were md if this truth were an essential part of hi o f I repeat it, the hu- man condition and sufferings of Christ tended strongly to exclude from men's minds the idea of his proper Godhead ; and of COCrse, we should expect to find in the Sew Testament perpetual care and effort to counteract this tendency, to hold him forth as the same being with his Father,if this doctrine were, as is pretended, the soul and centre of his religion. We should expect to find the phraseology of Scripture cast in the mould of this doctrine, to hear familiarly of God the Son, of our Lord God Jesus, and to he told, that to us there is sne God, even Jesus. Bat ini"»ad ©i 14 this the inferiority of Christ pervades the New Testament. It is not only implied in the general phraseology, but repeatedly and decidedly expressed, and unaccompanied with any admonition to prevent its application to his whole nature. Could it then have Leon the great design of the sacred writers to exhibit Jesus as the Supreme God P I am aware, that these remarks will be met by two or three texts. In which Christ is called God, and bjr a class of passages, not very numerous, in which divine properties are said to be as- cribed to him. To these we offer one plain answer We say, that it is one of the most established and obvious principles of criticism, that language is to be explained according to the known properties of the subject to which it is applied. Every man knows, that the same words convey very different ideas, when used in relation to different beings. Thus, Solomon built the tem- ple in a different manner from the architect, whom he employed ; and God repents differently from man. Now, we maintain, that the known properties and circumstances of Christ, his birth, suf- ferings, and death, his constant habit of speaking of God. as a distinct being from himself, his praying to God, his ascribing to God all his power and offices, these acknowledged properties of Christ, we say, oblige us to interpret the comparatively few passages, which are thought to make Him the supreme God, in a manner consistent with his distinct and inferior nature. It is our duty to explain such texts, by the rule which we apply to other texts,in which human beings are calledGods.and are said to be par- takers of the divine nature, to know and possess all things, and to be filled with all God's fulness. These latter passages we do not hesitate to modify and restrain, and turn from the most obvi- ous sense, because this sense is opposed to the known properties of the beings to whom they relate ; and we maintain that we ad- here to the same principle, and use no greater latitude in ex- plaining, as we do, the passages which are thought to support the Godhead of Christ. ** 1 nmtarians profess to derive some important advantages from their mode of viewing Christ It furnishes them, they tell us, with an infinite atonement, for it shows them an infinite being, suffering for their sins. The confidence with which this fallacy is repeated astonishes us. When pressed with the question, whether they really believe, that the infinite and unchangeable God suffered and died on the cross, they acknowledge that this is not true, but that Christ's human mind alone sustained the pains ol death. How have we then an infinite sufferer ? This language seems to us an imposition on common minds, and very deroga- tory to God -a justice, as if this attribute could be satisfied by a sophism and a hction. W e are also told, that Christ is a more interesting object, that his love and mercy are more felt, when he is received as the Su- preme God who left his glory to take humanity and to suffer for men. l hat 1 nmtarians are strongly moved by this representa- tion, we do not mean to deny, but we think their emotions alto- 15 gether founded on a misapprehension of their own doctrines. They talk of the second person of the Trinity leaving his glory, and his Father's bosom, to visit and save the world. Jiut this se- cond person,beingthe unchangeable and infinite God, was evident- ly incapable of parting with the lea^r degree of his perfection and felicity. At the moment of his taking il< - intimately p.esent with his Father as before, and equally with his Father fill- ed neaven, and earth, and immensity This Trinitarians ac- knowledge, and still they profess to he touched ami overwhelm- ed by the amazing humiliation of this immutable being ! ! — Hut not only does their doctine, when ful! trist's humiliation to a fiction, it almost wholly destroys the impression! with whicn his cross ouj;ht to he received. According to their doctrine. Christ was, co nparatively, no sufferera! all. It is true, his human mind suffered ; but this, they tell us, n iitely small part of Jesus, bearing no more proportion t<» his who turc, than a single hair of our heads I >le b "In : or, than a drop to the ocean. The divine mind of Christ, that which was moat propei ly himself, was infinitely happy, at the very moment of the suffering ot his humanity. Whilst hanging on the cn>s>. he was the happiest being in the universe, is happy BJ tin' infinite Father; so that his pains, compared with his felicity, were nothing. This Trinitarians do. and must sck now lege. It fol- lows, necessarily-, from the immutableneai ot the divine nature. which they ascribe to Christ ; BO thai their BJ Btem,justlr \ iewed, robs his death of interest, weakens our sympal ings, and is, of all others, most unfavoora love of Christ, founded on a sense of his - for mankind. \\ our own views to be vastly more affecting, especially thOM who believe in Christ's pre-existence. It is our belief, that Christ's humiliation, was real and entire, that the whole Saviour and not a part of him, suffered, that hi> crucifixion was a of deep and unmixed agony. As we stand round his cross, our minds are not distracted, or our sensibility weakened, by contem- plating him as composed of incongruous and infinitely differing minds, and as having a balance of infinite felicity. We rec< in the dying Jesus, but one mind. This, we think, rende sufferings, and his patience and love in bearing them, incompara- bly more impressive and affecting, than the system we oppose. Thirdly. Having thus given our belief on two great points, namely, that there is one God, and that Jesus Christ is a bein^ distinct from, and inferior to God. I now proceed to another point on which we lay still greater stress. We believe in the moral perfection of God We consider no part of" theology so important as that which treats of God's moral character; and we value our views of Christianity chiefly, as they assert his a- miable, and venerable attributes. It may be said, that in regard to this subject, all Christians agree, that all ascribe to the Supreme Being, infininite justicce, goodness and holiness. We reply, that it is very possible to speak of God magnificently, and to "think of him meanlv ; to apply 16 to his person high-sounding epithets, and to his government prin- ciples which make him odious. The heathens called Jupiter the greatest and the best; hut his history was black with cruelty and lust. We cannot judge of men's real ideas of God, by their gene- ral language, for in all ages, they have hoped to sooth the Deity bv adulation. We must inquire into their particular views of his - purposes, of the, principles of his administration, and of his dis- position towards his creatures. We conceive that Christians have generally leaned towards a very injurious view of the Supreme Being. They have too of- ten felt, as if he were raised, by his greatness and sovereignty, above the principles of morality, above those eternal laws of equity and rectitude, to which all other beings are subjected. We believe, that in no being, is the sense of right so strong, so omnip- otent, as in God. We believe that his almighty power is entirely submitted to his perception of rectitude ; and this is the ground of our piety. It is not because he is our Creator merely, but be- cause he created us for good and holy purposes ; it is not because his will is irresistible, but because his will is the perfection of vir- tue, that we pay him allegiance. We cannot bow before a being, however great and powerful, who governs tyrannically. We re- spect nothing, but excellence, whether on earth, or in heaven. We venerate not the loftiness of God's throne, but the equity and goodness in which it is established. We believe that God is infinitely good, kind,benevolent., in the proper sense of these words ; good in dispotion, as well as in act ; good not to a few, but to all ; good to every individual, as well as to the general system* We believe too, that God is just ; but we never forget, that his justice is the justice of a good being, dwelling in the same mind, and acting in harmony with perfect benevolence. By this attribute we understand God's infinite regard to virtue, or moral worth, expressed in a moral government^ that is, in giving excellent and equitable laws, and in conferring such rewards and inflicting such punishments, as are most fitted to secure their observance. God's justice has for its end the highest virtue of the creation, and it punishes for this end alone, and thus it coincides with benev- olence ; for virtue and happiness, though not the same, are in- separably conjoined. God's justice thus viewed, appears to us to be in perfect har- mony with his mercy. According to the prevalent system of theology, these attributes are so discordant and jarring, that to reconcile them is the hardest task, and the most wonderful achievement of infinite wisdom. To us they seem to be inti- mate fnemls. always at peace, breathing the same spirit, and seeking the same end. By God's mercv, we understand not a blind instinctive compassion, which forgives without reflection, and without regard to the interests of virtue. This, we acknowl- edge would be incompatible with justice, and also with enlight- ened benevolence. God's mercy, as we understand it, desires ngly the happiness of the guilty, but only through their peni- 17 tcnce. It ha9 a regard to character as truly as bis justice. It d( tttn punishment, and Buffers long, that the - nner m ry retnrn t dutv, bat leaves the impenitent and unyielding, to the fearful re- tribution threatened in G • I"- word. To give our views of(}od, in one word, a re in hi- par- ental character. \V. to bita, D >l only the name, but the sitions and principles of a father. We believe th.it h. a father"- concern for his their mi- ment, a father'- equity in proportioning bit commands to their powers, a lath i th<-ir | to receive the penitent, and a father 1 ! justice Pot th< We Look upon tin- worl I as a] i which h training men by I by means and opportunity ea i i \ ariouj \ iii pie, by thi i discipli to free and moral be mion with bio 1 tor a sublime and ever growing virtue in heal i Now we ODJ .. a hich pr< among us, thai they are i a great to these purify ing, coml they take from as our father i him a being, whoa il we would, an I whom we ought not to lo?e ii we could. We obj< • t, particul urly on I I, to that system, which ai the name <>f orth doxy, and which is now most industriously our country. Tbii lystem t- acta -. thai Go ! bi tence wholly depraved, 10 that under the ino< -of our childhood, is bidden a nature adi erse to all good,and pi toall evil; and it tea* hes thafl rod regards of with disple i >re we have acquired power to understand our actions. Now if there be one plain principle of moi h this, that we arc accountable beings, only b »ve con a power of knowing ami performing our duty, and that in as far as we want tin- power, we air incapable of -in, guilt, or blame. We Should call a parent a nnm-ter. who -hould fudge and treat his children m opposition to tin- principle ; and yet this enormous immorality is charged oa our Father in heaven. This system, also, teaches, that God selects from the corrupt mass of men a number to be -a\c«l. and that they are plucked, by an irresisible agency, from the common ruin, whilst the rest are commanded, under penalty of aggravated woe, to make a change in their character-, which their natural corruption places beyond their power, and are also promised pardon on conditions, which necessarily avail them nothing, unle-s the) are favoured with a special operation of God's grace, which he is predetermined to withhold. This mockery of mercy, this insult offered to the misery of the non-elect, by hollow proffers of forgiveness, com- pletes the dreadful system which is continually obtruded upon us as the gospel, and which strives to monopolize the reputation of sanctity. s 18 That this religious system does not produce all the effects on icter, which might be anticipated, we most joyfully admit. It is often, very often, counteracted by nature, conscience, common . by the general strain of Scripture, by the mild example ni'd precepts of Christ, and by the many positive declarations of God's universal kindness, and perfect equity. But still we think that we see occasionally its unhappy influence. It discourages the timid, gives excuses to the bad, feeds the vanity of the fanati- cal, and offers shelter to the bad feelings of the malignant. By shocking, as it does the fundamental principles of morality, and by e v I: i biting a severe and partial Deity, it tends strongly to pervert the moral faculty, to form a gloomy, forbidding, and servile reli- gion, and to lead men to substitute censoriousness, bitterness, and persecution, for a tender and impartial charity. We think too, that this system, which begins with degrading human nature, may be expected to end in pride ; for pride grows out of a conscious- ness of high distinctions, however obtained, and no distinction is sa great as that, which is made between the elected and abandoned of God. The false and dishonorable views of God, which have now been stated, we feel ourselves bound to resist unceasingly. Other er- rors we can pass over with comparative indifference. But we ask our opponents to leave to us a God, worthy of our love and trust, in whom our moral sentiments may delight, in whom our weaknesses and sorrows may find refuge. We cling to the divine perfections. We meet them every where in creation, we read them in the Scriptures, we see a lovely image of them in Jesus Christ; and gratitude, love and and veneration call on us to as- sert them. Reproached as we often are, by men, it is our conso- la {\ 01 } and ^PPiness, that one of our chief offences is the zeal with which we vindicate the dishonored goodness and rectitude of God. Fourthly. Having thus spoken of the unity of God ; of the unity of Jesus ? and his inferiority to God ; and of the perfections of the divine character; I now proceed to give our views of the mediation of Christ and of the purposes offcs mission. With regard inatis to rescue men from sin and its consequences, and to bring tni° ? l tatG ° f everlast ^ Parity and happiness. We believe, 100, that he accomplishes this sublime purpose by a variety of T T ; } \ hlS mstri1ct ^s respecting God's unity, parental TPPl J ^ , n ?°J al g° vern m e at, which are admirably fitted to reci aim the world from idolatry, and impiety, to the knowledge, ' ™ d ^edience of the Creator; by his promises of pardon to tiie penitent, and of divine assistance to those, who labour for progress in moral excellence ; by the light which he has thrown on the path of duty; by his own spotless example, in which the lowliness and sublimity of virtue shine forth to warm and quick- fn™? W m' aS ?," ,de , US to P erf(? xtion ; by his threatenings against incorrigible guilt; by his glorious discoveries of immortality ; by 19 ■ flerin^s and death ; by that signal event, the re- which powerfully bore witness to rm dirine mission, a down to men'- future life; by \> - which obtains tor Df spiritual aid and I with which h* and conferring the everlasting rewar :- ful. We bftl e ' I desire to cone ion exists amon? OS, m regard to :m int« mediation ; I mean, in regard t«> I on our foi I contt ih> our pardon, ;is it v. and of giving it a j • r the in it pn < by leadin >rtue, which is i 1 with thil think that tin* & rip death, with an emphasi tin- u. ; the ense, DOsubstiti |]| punish- ment of a guilty worid, save the infinite God hi bgly, God took on him human nature, that! to hie owu justice the debt of punishment incurred by men, and might 21) ena M e bin fercisfi mercy. Such is the present system. trine seems to carry on its front, strong marks surdity; and we maintain, that Christianity ought not to be encumbered with it, unless it he laid down in the New Testament fully and expressly. We ask our adversaries, then, to point to some plain passages where it is taught. We ask for one text, in which we are told, that God took human nature, that he might ap- his own anger towards men, or make an infinite satisfaction to hi< own justice 3 ; for one text, which tells us, that human guilt is infinite, am! requires a correspondent substitute; that Christ's sufferings owe tlu ; ir efficacy to their being borne by an infinite being ; or that his divine nature gives infinite value to the sufferings of the human. Not one word of this description can we find in the Scriptures ; not a text, which even hints at these strange doctrines. They are altogether, we believe, the fictions of theologians. Christianity is in no degree responsible for them. We are aston- ished at their prevalence What can be plainer, than that God cannot, in any sense, be a sufferer, or bear a penalty in the room of his creatures? liow dishonourable to him is the supposition, that his justice is now so severe as to exact infinite punishment for the sins of frail and feeble men, and now so easy and yielding as to accept the limited pains of Christ's human soul, as a full equivalent for the infinite and endless woes due from the world? How plain is it also, according to this doctrine, that God, instead of being plenteous in forgiveness, never forgives ; for it is absurd to speak of men as forgiven, when their whole punishment is borne by a substitute. A scheme more fitted to bring Christianity into con- tempt, and less suited to give comfort to a guilty and troubled mind, could not, we think, be easily invented. We believe, too, that this system is unfavourable to the charac- ter. It naturally leads men to think, that Christ came to change God's mind, rather than their own, that the highest object of his mission, was to avert punishment, rather than to communicate holiness, and that a large part of religion consists in disparaging good works and human virtue, for the purpose of magnifyingthe value of Christ's vicarious sufferings. In this way, a sense of the in Unite importance, and indispensible necessity of personal im- provement is weakened, and high sounding praises of Christ's cross seem often to be substituted for obedience to his precepts. For ourselves, we have not so learned Jesus. Whilst we grate- fully acknowledge, that he came to rescue us from punishment, we believe, that he was sent on a still nobler errand, namely, to deliver us trorn sin itself, and to form us to a sublime and heavenly nrfaw. We regard him as a Saviour, chiefly as he is the light, physician, and guide of the dark, diseased, and wandering mind. ao influence m the universe seems to us so glorious, as that over the character: and no redemption so worthy of thankfulness, as the restoration of the soul to purity. Without this, pardon, were it possible, would be of little value. Why pluck the sinner from beU, it a hell be lett to burn in his own breast ? Why raise him .o heaven, if he remain a stranger to its sanctity and love ? With 2\ impression-*, we are accustomed to value the gospel, chi< effectual aid-, rnotives.an'd excitements to b and divine virtue. In this virtue, M in a common contra, we see all its doctrines, ,- i . that faith in tii > worth, and contributes notlm s;ilv:.t' farther than as it gee* thane doctrine*, pre< promises, and the whole Lift , character, infierii i, as tlie m the mind, ol i likeness of hie c< lestial excelled h'ifthlij Having thus of the higl i, that it is the tp< . or holi- irl I now, in the laal pla. 'ivlineu. \\ i ■ that all I or In duty, and in the u ccording I i thai thei the l)L r !i of human nil than i tioai infused into ui without >ur own m< f irresisti- ble dmnr influence on the homan mind, moulding it into goodtsaaa, :i- marbh i- h< a n i ito n id, would aol than the instil lional amiableness ol human boni-.,'-. - m to d\ •pint : but by In- spirit. . e intluen in\ul\ in- ol in i tiblc nihility and the laws of our mor d nature, th it I chines, that tb I the blame of all e\ , thatthej ind inflate the fan ol immediate and sensible inspiration. 1 rag the virtues, w€ g 9t tin* firet place to tl, W b believe, that this principle is the ofotn ule for union ttor, that : tor the insatiable desires and unlimi tuinan mind, and that without him, our noblest aeotimea i ition, hope and love, would wither and decay v »> thai the I id i- not only easential I bat to the strength and perfection -of ail the virtues; that conscience, without the sanction of God's authority and re justice, would be a weak dirc< tor ; that benevoh communion with his goodness, and encouraged by his -mile, could not thrive amidst the a - of the world; and that self government, without a sense of the diTine inspection, would hardly extend beyond an outward and partial purity. God. 22 as ho willy goodness, holiness, justice, and virtue^ so he if Gainer of virtue in the human 3011I. Bnl whilst we earnestly inculcate the love of God, we believe that great care is necessary to distinguish it from counterfeits. We think that much, which is called piety, is worthless. Many have fallen into the error, that there can be no excess in feelings, which have God for their ohject ; and, distrusting as coldness, that self- 1, without which, virtue and devotion lose all their digni- ty, they have abandoned themselves to extravagancies, which have brought contempt on piety. Most certainly, if the love of God be that, which often bears its name, the less we have of it, the bet- ter, li religion be the shipwreck of understanding, we cannot keep too far from it. On this subject, we always speak plainly. We cannot sacrifice our reason to the reputation of zeal. We owe it to truth and religion, to maintain, that fanaticism, partial insanity, sudden impressions, and ungovernable transports, are any thing, rather than piety* We conceive, that the true love of God is a moral sentiment, founded on a clear perception, and consisting in a high esteem and veneration of his moral perfections. Thus, it perfectly coin- cides, and is in fact the same thing with the love of virtue, recti- tude, and goodness. You wili easily judge, then, what we esteem the surest and only decisive signs of piety. We lay no stress on strong excitements. We esteem /urn, and him only a pious man, who practically conforms to God's moral perfections,and gov- ernment, who shows his delight in God's benevolence, by loving and serving his neighbour ; his delight in God's justice, by being resolutely upright ; his sense of God's purity, by regulating his thoughts, imagination, and desires; and whose conversation, busi- ness, and domestick life are swayed by a regard to God's presence and authority. In all things else 1 men may deceive themselves. Disordered nerves may give them strange sights, and sounds, and impressions. Texts of Scripture may come to them as from heaven. Their whole souls may be moved, and their confidence in God's favour be undoubting. But in all this there is no religion. The question is, do they love God's commands, in which his char- acter is folly displayed, and give up to these their habits and pas- sions ? Without this, extacy is a mockery. One surrender of desire to God's will, is worth a thousand transports. We do not judge of the bent of men's minds by their raptures, any more than we judge of the direction of a tree during a storm. We rather inspect loud professions, for we have observed, that deep feeling is generally noiseless, and least seeks display. W e would not. by these remarks, be understood as wishing to exclude from religion warmth, and even transport. We honour, and highly value true religious sensibility. We believe, that ChrHtianity is mtended to act powerfully on our whole nature, on th » heart, as well as the understanding and the conscience. We conceive of heaven as a state, where the love of God will be ex- mto an unbounded fervour and joy ; and we desire, in our pilgrimage here, to drink in the spirit of that better world. But 23 we think, that religious warmth is only to be valued, when it springs naturally from an improved character, when it cornea tin- forced, when it is the recompense of obedience, when it is the warmth of a mind, which understands God by being like him, and when, instead of disordering-, it exalts the understanding rates conscience, gives a pleasure to common duti to exist in connexion with cheerfulness, judiciouan< sonable frame of mind. When we obi tiled reli- gious, in men whose general characti w s little refinement and elevation, and whose pi r with reason, we pay it little respect. We honour religion too much to give its sacred name to a feverish, forced, fluctuating zeal, which baa lit- tle power over the life. Another important branch of religion, w< e to be loi Christ. The - ol the work -. the spirit with which he executed it. and the Buffet h he bore for our salvation, we feel to be ration. \N < Bee in nature do beauty to i the loveliness of hia character, nor do we find on earth a I" to whom we owe an equal debt We read bis bistorj w ith delight, ami learn from it the perfection of our nature. W< larly touched by hia death, which was endured for our red* mo- tion, and by that strength of charity, which triumphed over bit pains. His resurrection is the foundation of our hope of immor- tality, lli^ intercession gireq ua boldness to draw nigh to throne of grace, and we look up i<> heaven with new desire, when we think, that if we follow him here, we shall tin is be- nignant countenance, and enjoy In- frien Iship for ei I need not express to you one \ iewa on the subject of tl oUnt virtues. We attach auch imporl Lhese, that we are sometime)- reproached with exalting them . ety. We gard the spirit of love, chant}, meekness, forgiveness, liberality, and bene, 1 . a the badge and distinction of Christians, ai brightest image we can bear of God, as the best proof of | On this Bubject, 1 need not, and cannot enlarge ; but there is branch of benevolence, which 1 ought not to pass over in aili because we think that we conceive of.il more highly and justly, than many of our brethren. 1 refer to the duty of candour, char- itable judgment, especially towards those who differ in relu opinion. We think, that in nothing have Christiana bo widi I parted from their religion, as m this particular. We read with astonishment and horror, the history of the church, and sometimes irhen we look hack on the Tires of persecution, and the zeal of Christians, building up walls of separation, and in giving up one another to perdition, we feel as it' we were r te records of an infernal, rather than a heavenly kingdom. An enemy to every religion, if asked to describe a Christian, would, with some show ot' reason, depict him as an idolater of his own distinguishing opinions, covered with badges of party, shutting his eyes on the virtues, and his ears on the arguments of his opponents, arrogating all excellence to his own sect, and all saving pow r er to his own 24 creed, sheltering under the name of pious zeal, the love of domi- nation, the conceit of infallibility, and the spirit of intolerance, and trampling on men's rights under the pretence of saving their souls. We can hardly conceive of a plainer obligation on beings of our frail and fallible nature, who are instructed in the duty of candid ucnt, than to abstain from condemning men of apparent con- scientioufiDfess and sincerity, who are chargeable with no crime but that of differing from us in the interpretation of the Scriptures, and differing, too, on topicks of great and acknowledged obscurity. We are astonished at the hardihood of those, who, with Christ's warnings sounding in their ears, take on them the responsibility of making creeds for his church, and cast out professors of virtu- ous lives for imagined errors, for the guilt of thinking for them- selves. We know that zeal for truth, is the cover for this usur- pation of Christ's prerogative ; but we think that zeal for truth, as it is called, is very suspicious, except in men, whose capacities and advantages, whose patient deliberations, and whose improve- ments in humility, mildness, and candour, give them a right to hope that their views are more just, than those of their neighbors. Much of what passes for a zeal for truth, we look upon with lit- tle respect, for it often appears to thrive most luxuriantly where other virtues shoot up thinly and feebly ; and we have no grati- tude for those reformers, who would force upon us a doctrine, which has not sweetened their own tempers, or made them better men than their neighbours. We are accustomed to think much of the difficulties attending religious inquiries, springing from the slow developement of our minds, from the power of early impressions, from the state of so- ciety, from human authority, from the general neglect of the rea- soning powers, from the want of just principles of criticism, and of important helps in interpreting Scripture, and from various oth- er causes. We find, that on no subject have men, and even good men, engrafted so many strange conceits, wild theories, and fic- tions of fancy, as on religion, and remembering, as we do, that we ourselves are sharers of the common frailty, we dare not assume infallibility in the treatment of our fellow Christians, or encour- age in common Christians, who have little time for investigation, the habit of denouncing and coutemning other denominations, perhaps more enlightened and virtuous than their own. Charity, forbearance, a delight in the virtues of different sects, a back- wardness to censure and condemn, these are virtues, which, how- ever poorly practised by us, we admire and recommend, and we would rather join ourselves to the church in which they abound, than to any other communion, however elated with the belief of t€ own orthodoxy, however strict in guarding its creed, however burning with zeal against imagined error. I have thus given the distinguishing views of those Christians m whose names 1 have spoken. We have embraced this system, not hastily or lightly, but after much deliberation, and we hold it no. merely because we believe it to be true, but because we 25 regard it as purifying truth, as a doctrine according to godliness., as able to " work mightily' 1 and u to bring forth fruit*" in them who believe. That we wish to spread it. we hare do desire to conceal ; but we think, that are Irish it- diffusion. 1< e re- gard it as more friendly to practical piety and pure morals, than the opposite doctrines, I earer and aoh of duty, and stronger motive- to its p< omrnends religion at once to the understanding and t ; because it assert-* the love!? and venerable attributes of ' because it tend- be benevolent *j>irit i to bis divided sad afflicted < Imrch, and because it < ef God's favour, etcept that which t formity to the life and pi ling in "«ir views to give offen their pui which makes us seek and In lion through the >\ 1 now turn to the OSUal add the day. My friend and brother;— You are tbii Important duties ; to !»<• < lothed a itfa God did not disdain ; todevot( Iftotbatn vhich the hallowed lips have pn !. We trust, that \ ou will bring to I a linn purpose, a martyr's spirit, i readiness to toil Per for the truth, a devotion <>t* your beel and virtue* lhav< spoken of the doctrinee, wh ably preach; bul I do not mean, thai to give yours If to controversy. \ ou will remember, that good : of preaching, and will labor lienors li\ .t«. rath- er than skilful disputants. Be careful, lest th< lag a hat you deem truth, ai h and n i i reaentatioo, turn you aside from your great business, ivhicfa fix in men's minds a living conviction of the obligation, sublimity and happiness of Christian virtue. The best way to vindicate your sentiments, is to show in your pn md life, their inti- mate connexion with Christian morals, with a high and delicate sense of duty, with candour towards yotfr < . aith inflexible integrity, and with an habitual reverence for God. It anj can pierce and scatter the clouds of prejudice, it i> that of ;i pure example. STou air to preach a system which has nothing t< ommend it, but its fitness to make men better : which has no unin- telligible doctrine for the mystical, no ei natieal, no dreams for the visionary, no contradictions Un- the credulous, which asks no sacrifice of men's understanding, I ut only of the passions and vices ; and the host and only way to rec- ommend such a system is, to show forth its power in pui ifi it exalting the character. .Mv brother, may your lit i more loudly than your lip>. Be to the people a pattern of ail good works , and may your instructions derive authority from a well grounded belief in your hearers, that you speak from the h- art, that you preach from experience, that the truth which you dispense has wrought powerfully in your own heart, that God. and and heaven are not merelv words on your lips, but most af- 4 26 ir mind, and springs of hope and consola- ■ th. In all your trials. Thus labouring-, may you abundantly, and have a testimony of your faithfulness, not ir own conscience, but in the esteem, love, virtues, and improvements of your people. •thren of this church and society.— We rejoice with you in of this day. We rejoice in the'zeal, unanimity and liberality, with which you hnve secured to yourselves the admin- istration of God's word and ordinances, according to your own understanding of the Scriptures. We thank God, that he has dis- d you to form an association, on the true principles of Chris- tianity 'and of protestantism, that you have solemnly resolved to call no man master in religion, to take your faith from no human creed, to submit your consciences to no human authority, but to repair to the gospel, to read it with your own eyes, to exercise upon it your own understanding, to search it, as if not a sect ex- isted around you, and to follow it wherever it may lead you. Brethren, hold fast your Christian and protestant liberty. We wish you continued peace, and growing prosperity. We pray God, that your good works may glorify your Christian profession, that your candour, and serious attention may encourage our young or in the arduous work to which you have called him, and that your union with him, beginning in hope, may continue in joy, and may issue in the friendship and union of heaven. To all who hear me, I would say, with the apostle ; " Prove all things, holdfast that which is good." Do not, brethren, shrink from the duty of searching God's word for yourselves,through fear of human censure and denunciation. Do not think that you may innocently follow the opinions, which prevail around you, without investigation, on the ground, that Christianity is now so purified from errors, as to need no laborious research. There is much rea- son to believe, that Christianity is at this moment dishonoured by 9 and cherished corruptions. If you remember the darkness, which hung over the gospel for ages; if you consider the impure union. which still subsists in almost every Christian country ,between the church and the state, and which enlists men's selfishness, and ambition on the side of established error ; if you recollect in what degree the spirit of intolerance has checked free inquiry, nly before, but alter the reformation ; you will see that t hristiamty cannot have, freed itself from all the human inven- tions whidi disfigured it under the papal tyranny. No. Much Btubble i- yet to be burnt : much rubbish to be removed ; many gaudy decorations, which a false taste has hung around christian- iost ho swept away ; and the earth-born fogs which have long shrouded it, must be scattered, before this divine fabric will before us m its native, and awful majesty, in its harmonious proportion,, m its mild and celestial splendours. This glorious reformation m the church, we hope, under God's blessing, from he demolition of human authority in matters of religion, from the fall of those hierarchies, huge establishments, general convo- es, and other human institutions, bv which the 27 minds of individuals are oppressed under the weight of numbers, and a papal dominion is perpetuated in the protestant church.— Our earnest prayer to God is, that he will overturn, and overturn, and overturn the strong holds of spiritual usurpation, until he shall come, whose right it is to rule the anode of men ; that the con- spiracy of ages against the liberty of chi , V be brought to an end; that the servile assent, so long yielded to h: creeds, may give place to {[liry mto the Scriptures; and that Christianity, thus purified fn may put forth its almighty energy, and prove itself, by its enoblW influence on the mind, to be i vattoa.*'' NOTK. THE author intended to add some n< course, but the v would ne- cessarily be more extended than tl to offer some remarks on the word Mystery, but can onl) I tion on that subject, in the ... He was prevented, by the limit, oftbedkeoum Iki terestiug topick, i odofoor Sarioor>i mt he wou! who wish to obtain definite design of Christianity, by Bishop Fowler, which t, il( , in gy^ son's tract*. Had 1 time, 1 should be happy to notice the principal texts adduced in the Jnn.tanan controversy, particularly those which m vrpolations or false or doubt!, or false or doubtful t, . , hn v 7. Acts xx. 28. ITim.iii.16. Philip, i missed from the controversy, and they c they are adduced to support, be a fundamental truth of Christianity \ funda- mental truth cannot, certainly, want the aid of four or five doubtful pan ai>d Trinitarians betra) the weakness of their cause in the eagt which they struggle for those I have named. But I cannot enlarge. The candour ot the reader will excuse many omissions in a sermon, which is necessarily too lim- ited to do more, than give the most prominent views of a subject. THE CHARGE, BY ELIPHALE1 PORTER, D. D, OF ROXBURY, MASS. M* Dear Brother ! — Conscious, as I trust you are, of the purity of your motives in entering into the Christian ministry, and of the sincerity of your de- sires to fulfil the duties of the sacred office, and the important station into which you have now been publickly and solemnly inducted ; you will receive, I doubt net, with all readiness and seriousness of mind, the charge, which, in conformity trith ancient usage, and the duty assigned me, I am now to pronounce. This charge will be solemn, impressive, and worthy of your regard, in proportion as it f-hall be immediately drawn from the lively oracles of God. Permit me, therefore, to charge thee, before God, and the Lord Jesus Christ, who will judge the quick and the dead at his appearing ; Take heed to thyself, to the fl ?ck over which divine providence hath made thee an overseer, and to the ministry, which thou hast received of the Lord, to fulfil it. Our gracious master, you will recollect, spake a parable to this end, that men ought always to pray. This duty is, in a pecuiiar manner, incumbent on those who minister in holy things. Habitual prayer will have an important influence on your character and ministry. It will fortify you against the power of temp- tation, elevate your views, and sanctify your affections ; cherish good principles, desires and purposes ; strengthen and animate you in the discharge of duty ; and have a powerful tendency to draw down the choicest blessings on yourself, and on the people of your charge. To you it will belong to lead in the devotions of the sanctuary, and of various occasions of a more private, though not less jinte- restmg nature. Let this part of your ministerial dutv engage a due portion of your atteution and meditation, that it may ever be performed in a manner ap- propriate, impressive, edifying and availing. Preach the word ; preach the truth as it is in Jesus, holding fast the form of sound word., as contained in the holy Scriptures, and calling no man on earth master. Be instant in season and out of season ; reprove, rebuke, exhort with all long-suffering and doctrine. Keep back nothing, which may be profitable to your hearers. But let not an indiscreet, though honest zeal, to declare the whole counsel ot God, betray you into the error of striving about words to no proiit, or of seeming to be wise above what is written. Still less suffer yourself, through a mere afiectatiot: of superior fidelity, to indulge in uncharitable denun- ciation., and in announcing opinions with an air of confidence exceeding vour inward conviction of their truth. Imitate that teacher, who came from God, and in whose mouth guile was never found. In his example you will see a ZZ»»U // w"^ Un , Ued With perfect inte ? rit y 5 and occasional reserve, with unequalled fa.fhfumess to him whose messages he was sent to declare. Study to rithTlv H ' n ap fK° Ved T° r G ° d ' a workman *■* neede th not to be ashamed, rightly dividing the word of truth. Tin?^H thX ifi 1° Te 'i n ^ meditation > and doctrine. Intermeddle with all di- l Z tATf k 7 t d f H DOt f ° rsettin § however > that much «*% « a weari- ^ h it PnJ £ i ,L here J 5 , an a PP llcati ™ too intense to be long endured, without endangering health, and life, and usefulness. X Urligiou a social principle sarj&aixw I'l LI\ I RF.D IS THE CHURCH i\ PBDERAL BTREI h»\ DECEMBER 10, 1^ WILLI A M B LLBR1 CHANNIJi Mi in. i 'cr»l Strret. hi l, a : i vurR*-. BOSTON : ! I. 9f GARDNER 1820. b SERMON. JAMES CHAPTER I VEKSE XXVII. " Pure religion and undeJUed be the Father is this^ to visit the fatherUu r false, in proportion as we understand or sustake the divine character* The religions of heathenism, amidst their vast iety, were generally built on ideas of the Divinity borrowed from earthly sovereigns. It was supposed that the Gfoda were swayed by a principle very simi- lar vi-if the fatherless and widows in their Affliction," Of to be ready to c\ gOOd Word and work: and al-o -to keep himself unspotted from the world," that if, to -linn thoM cesses of appetite and pension, which -tain onr hon- our, and rofa ns of the various and lii-heM enjoy menN of onr nainre. These practical views of religion are of infinite worth, and jn-t H far as they pn-\ail. they make it a blearing The n.-ln I with wh'nh they have been treated, and tin Hot M al w ith w hi* h other expressions al piety ha\e hcen exalted aho\e them, are anion- the worst feature- in the history of religion. From the genera] account of religion now given, one particular will he ieh onr present an lion. -Pure and nndetiled religion* we are told con-ists in doing gooi; for "to riril the father! and widows in their alH'mion." i- put bj the tpOOlli as a part for the whole, to express : ,|| the modes of beoelting mankind. From this lani w< learn, that religion is n social principle intimateh united with social duty, belonging to ijs as social being*; and this view of religion, I wish to in in opposition to a maxim, which is somewhat cur rent, that religion is a private affair hetw een man and his maker, with which his neighbonr lias no concern. This is | revival of the old doc trine, which drove men from society to worship Bod in detei 6 and we cannot but wonder that this error of the most thorough fanaticks should be espoused* by some, who claim superiority to vulgar prejudice. Religion, we are told, is a private, personal thing, a concern between the individual and God. His neighbour or the community must not meddle with it. Whether he have any religion or not, or a good or a bad one, is no one's business but his own. — Vague language of this kind, which carries no definite meaning, but gives the general idea, that a man's religion is a subject in which society has no interest, and no right to use its influence, may do much in- jury ; and in opposition to it, 1 would maintain that religion is eminently a social principle, entering into social life, having ( most important bearings on the public weal, and that society has a deep concern in it, and cannot without violation of what is due to itself overlook or disparage it. The social charac- ter of religion is not sufficiently regarded, and is the topick on which I beg to enlarge. And in illustrating this, I would first observe, that religion is founded in our social nature, and springs from our social relations. Your religion, you say, is a private concern, with which no one has any thing to do but yourself. But whence did you ob- tain it? Was it born with you? Did you bring it with you into life? No. In an important sense, it is the gift of society. You received it from parents, and still more from the community; for did not Christianity flourish in the community, were it not made visible by publick institutions and continu- al observances, how few of us would possess it, We are religious, because we in soc ial beings. How do we form idea- of the attribute* of Bod, particu- larly of his goodness and equity, those chief foun- dations of religion, but bv 5 them manifested in our fellow creatures, and in social life? And om- affe< dons towards God, mk li a> love, gratitude, esteem, an in the first instance called forth towards fellow beings; and thus is 1 ht- school in which the hearl Lb trained for the Creator. It d thus he s.iid with strict truth, thai all our religion comes to us through our social connections, is a growth and fruit of B0< ial life. The conununitj then cannot Inii influence it. cannol Leave the indi- vidual t<> himself in forming bis religion. 2. Religion is .» social concern, for it is a snit- je< t on which men have a strong hudem \ to fed and act together, and thus it is m strong bond of union. Religion is not a secret to be lot ked up in our own hearts, but a sentimenl t < » be communics shared, strengthened bv sympathy, and enjoyed in common with all: and this results from its very nature: for who is God, the -rial objed of this principle? Is he the Father of this or that individu- al only? or the Father and head of thai great family of which everv individual i- a member? If other men have the same interest in this Bread Being, and (lie same relation to him with myself, if God he a com- mon objed and centre to their souls and mine, then we possess ill him a strong bond of union to one another. Religion has always manifested its social nature, by encouraging associations for the utter mice and strengthening of its feelings. In all na- 8 tiottfl men have come together for religious purposes, and especially under Christianity, some of the strong- est attachments have their root in reverence for the Supreme Being. Thus religion is a social concern, being one of the strong bonds of a community. 8. Religion is a social and publick as well as a private concern, because the common relation of (rod to all men, is not merely, as we have just stated, a ground of sympathy and attachment, but makes it a duty to offer him publick, and the most publick ac- knowledgments. It is not enough to worship God in private ; for this is an acknowledgment of him only as a private benefactor. There ought to be acts and offerings, corresponding to a higher view of him, I mean, to his publick character, to his relation of universal Father and Lord. Nature and duty prompt us to render publick acknowledgments to publick benefactors, to sovereigns, and rulers of whole com- munities ; and of consequence, Society, being God's work and kingdom, and deriving all its happiness from him, is bound to publick recognitions of him ; and without these, his true character, that which clothes him with majesty, his universal dominion, is not acknowledged and impressed. There is the same foundation for social as for private religion ; for God is the author of society as truly of the individ- ual, and his greatness and goodness are chiefly con- spicuous in the former ; and therefore Society ought, through its great organ and representative, which is government, as well as by other methods, to pay hom- age to God, and express its obligations. 4. Religion is a social concern, for it operates powerfully on sor icty ; contributing in various ways to its liability and prosperity. Religion is not merely a private affair : the community is deeply interested in its diffusion, for it is the best rapport of the virtues and principle* on which social order re~ Pure and undcfiled religion, according to the text, is to do good: and it follows VOTJ plainly, that if God he the author and friend lien the recognition of him must enforce all social duty, and enlightened piety mm it- irhok fttongth lo the ( aase of | » 1 1 1 » I i < order* Wtm men suspei t, perhaps no man comprehends, the extent of the supp iligion to every \irtne. No man perhaps is aware, how mm h our moral and social >«tiiimtnu are fed from this foun- tain: BOW powerless conscience would become with out the belief of a God; how palsied would be hu- man benevolence; were there not th" sense of a higher benevolence to qnicken and sustain it: how suddenly the whole SOCial fahrh U would quake, and with what a fearful crash it would *ink into hopele^< mins, were the Ideal of a Supreme Being of accountable] id of a future life, to he ut- terly erased from every mind. Once let men thorough believe that they are the work and sport of chance : that no superior intelligence con- cerns itself with human affairs; that all their im- provements perish forever at death : that the weak have no guardian, and the injured no avenger; that there is no recompen>e for >a< ritices to uprightn and the public good : that an oath is unheard in Heaven ; that secret crimes have no witness but the 2 10 perpetrator ; that human existence has no purpose, and human virtue no unfailing friend; that this brief life is every thing to us, and death is total, everlast- ing extinction; once let men thoroughly abandon religion, and who can conceive or describe the extent of the desolation which would follow? We hope perhaps that human laws and natural sympathy would hold society together. As reasonably might we believe, that were the sun quenched in the hea- vens, our torches could illuminate, and our fires quicken and fertilize the creation. What is there in human nature to awaken respect and tenderness, if man is the unprotected insect of a day ? and what is he more, if atheism be true ? Erase all thought and fear of (rod from a community, and selfishness and sensuality would absorb the whole man. Ap- petite knowing no restraint, and poverty and suffer- ing having no solace or hope, would trample in scorn on the restraints of human laws. Virtue, duty, principle, would be mocked and spurned as unmean- ing sounds. A sordid self interest would supplant every other feeling, and man would become in fact, what the theory of atheism declares him to be, a companion for brutes. It particularly deserves attention in this discus- sion, that the christian religion is singularly important to free communities. In truth we may doubt whether civil freedom can subsist without it. This at least we know, that equal rights and an impartial adminis- tration of justice have never been enjoyed where this religion has not been understood. It favors free institutions, first, because its spirit is the very spirit of liberty, that is, a spirit of respect for the interests 11 and rights of others. Christianity recognizes tin- essential equality of mankind : heats down with its Whole might those aspirin- and rapacious princi- ples of our nature, whicfa have subjected the many to the few ; and by its refining influence, 10 well by direct precept, turns to God, and to Him only, that supreme homage which has hern so impiously lavished on crowned and tilled fellow (realm Thus lis whole tendency 11 free. It lays deeply the on/// foundations of liberty, which are the princi- ples of benevolence, justice, and reaped for human nature. The spirit of liberty is not merely, as mul- titudes imagine, a jealousy of tmr own particular rights, an unwillingness to he oppr ess ed ourselves; but a respect for tin rights of others, and an unwil- lingness that any man. whether hlgfa Of low. should be wronged, and trampled under foot. Now this IS the spirit of Christianity : and liberty has DO security, any farther than this uprightness and benevolence of sentiment actuates 1 1 ommunit] . In another method, religion befriends liberty. It diminishes the necessity of publics: restraint-. and supersedes in 1 great degree the use of fosos in administering tin' laws ; and thi- it does, by ma- king men a law to themselves, and by repressing the disposition to disturb and injure society. Take away the purifying and restraining influence of reli- gion, and selfishness, rapacity and injustice will break out in new excesses : and amidst the in- creasing perils of society, government must be strengthened to defend it, must accumulate means of repressing disorder and crime ; and this strength and 12 these means may be and often have been turned against the freedom of the state which they were meant to secure. Diminish principle, and you in- crease the need of force in a community. In this country, government needs not the array of power which you meet in other nations, no guards of sol- diers, no hosts of spies, no vexatious regulations of police ; but accomplishes its beneficent purposes by a few unarmed judges and civil officers, and operates so silently around us, and comes so seldom in con- tact with us, that many of us enjoy its blessings with hardly a thought of its existence ; and this is the perfection of freedom ; and to what do we owe this condition? I answer, to the power of those laws which Religion writes on our hearts, which unite and concentrate publick opinion against injustice and oppression, which spread a spirit of equity and good will through the community. Thus religion is the soul of freedom, and no nation under Heaven has such an interest in it as ourselves. Religion then appears to be a social concern ; the community rests upon it. It is not a private af- fair. My neighbour, my family, and society, are in- terested in my possessing religious principle, and in its widest possible diffusion. The public as well as the individual have much to do with the individual's religion. The first inference, to be made from this discus- sion is, that it is a right and duty in men to influence one another on the subject of religion. If religion be a social principle and a main foundation of social happiness, then it ought to engage men's efforts. It 13 is not a concern, in which every man is to he left t<> himself, and is to do nothing for others ; hut each according to his ability is to promote and spread it around him. On all other subjects men operate pow- erfully on one another* Bands : and why should re- ligion he an exception, when this i> one of the chief interests of human nature? Thesecond inference IS, thai if individual* are au- thorized and hound to promote religion, then the BAM right and obligation appertain to the community. God, we have §een i* the anther of Society, and a sense of this Breal Being it it- itreagth* support, and the life of ils freedom : ami shall in»t then a community, as mi h. a« -know ledge Ood, and provide, as far ai it bar power En spreading i reverence hr liis authority? If it he a principle I -learl\ M-nlrd hv experience, that rhrUtianit y tend* powerfnlU to poblick order and aappuwea, nrhj ihall not the community pnu ii< illy adopt and art on thi*, as w.dl as on other great truth* \\hi< h time haa confirmed? It is sometime* said, "Religion want* no aid from the communis : ii id able to take Gait of it- self/' You might joat ai reaaonahh say, that ligion does not need the aid of parent*, the aid of men of ability, the aid of asso< iations for extending it. Religion was not meant to he strong enough to flourish and spread without human agency. It is intended to live and he perpetuated by great labour and care. It does not extend itself; but man communicates it to man. Now the question is, has not a community power to diffuse and continue it, as well as individuals? May uot society act 14 beneficially far religion through its government? If 90, w by shall it not use this power as well as indi- viduals especially when it rests so much on this foundation. It is said, "this cause may be safely left by the state to individuals." But it is not wise for a community to leave to private discretion any great interest, in which its safety is involved. We might with much greater propriety say, that education should be left to individuals ; for the^ parental in- stinct is much stronger and more extensive than religious zeal. It should also be remembered that religious instruction is particularly needed for those classes of society who can least afford to provide it for themselves, and whose hard and unequal lot begets discontents and temptations which religion only can subdue. Ought not a community to pro- vide for these the administration of that divine truth, which not merely restrains but exalts the poor, and makes them at once good citizens here, and heirs of future happiness. But we are told, that the interference of the state with religion has been pernicious, politicians having made it an instrument of ambition, and thus weakened and degraded it. This is too true. The statesman has often leagued with the priest to break men's minds, and defraud them of their rights. But because religion has often been abused and degraded by the state, can it never be assisted by it, and em- ployed for the promotion of public virtue? Because under despotisms and in dark ages, religion was per- verted into an engine of ambition, does it follow 15 that fr/ree and improved community may not safely intrust to elected rulers the power of providing re- ligious instruction for the support of public morula? Does not the immense difference of the circu in- stances ensure a different result? Are wr asked, what pledge we have against the abuse of this power in the legislature, against the erection of an- other spiritual despotism? I answer, what security have we for any or all our institutions? What pledge that every other power given to ruins will not be abused? The great and only security U to be found in the spirit of the community, in the light of the age; and this light renders it absolutely impossible, that the representatives of ■ Bree people should aim now to build up a spiritual tvranny or to revive I ploded superstitions. We read history to little pur- pose, if we suffer ourselves to be frighted by the abuses of early stages of society from availing our- selves of all the springs of a nation's happiness. Let me (lose this discourse with some remarks on what seem (o me the principal grounds OT caUfi of the opinion, which I have opposed, that govern- ment has nothing to do with religion. It springs from narrow views of the purposes of government, and from narrow views of the nature of religion. — There are those, and perhaps not a few. who con- sider government as instituted chiefly for the lower purposes of our existence, for man considered as an animal, for the protection, support and accommoda- tion of the animal life. >iow government corres- ponds to the whole nature of man : is instituted for him as an intellectual, social, moral and religious 16 being; and is intended to protect and advance all the great interests of humanity. It acts for its legitimate purposes, when it watches over domestick life, and uteri* and enforces the sanctity of the marriage bond ; when it watches over intellect and education, and furnishes means for developing all the faculties of the mind ; when it encourages benevolent institu- tions, and through these and other methods spreads abroad charity. It acts for its legitimate purposes, when it frowns on profaneness, lewdness and inde- cency ; and discourages crimes, which injure society chiefly by weakening moral and religious sentiment, and degrading the character of a people. Govern- ment is a high and venerable institution, an engine of immense moral power, which in all ages lias greatly contributed to fix the character of nations. Its true spirit is that by which (rod reigns, an enlar- ged and impartial regard to the general good ; arid all its laws, as far as they are wise, are only particular applications of those great principles of justice and benevolence, which form the character of God, and enter into the very essence of piety. Government is throughout a moral and religious institution, and intended to operate on men, not merely through force, but much more through moral and religious principle. It is a broad and sublime institution, concentrating the power of a state for the protection and promotion of its highest interests, such as its freedom, industry, intelligence, domestick fidelity, general charity, pure morals, and piety. It is from low and narrow views of government, that men would exclude it from influencing religion, 17 and it is from equally narrow views of religion, that they would sever it from government. Religion is often thought to he chiefly intended iu promote men'- future happiness hy a round of rites, services and feelings, which have little or no relation to the pres- entMfe; when in truth it is designed to guard, adorn and hless our ichole existence : to mix v% ith all our present relations : to be a law to the ruler, a prin- ciple of obedience in the subject, a curb on the passions, which afflict and endanger society; and so to direct men's power-, pursuits and acquisitions whether of wealth or intelligence, as to form i pure, noble and happy community. Christianity as truly tends to present as future godd : it perfectly coin- cides with government in it- -pint and ends, only differing in its greater comprehension and extent. There is no such repugnance between them a- many imagine. They have not separate objects and fields of action. Man is the object ofboth, and his happi- ness and virtue their common ends : and it i- tit and reasonable, that in promoting these end-, they should aid and encourage each other. The narrow views of government and religion. which I have endeavoured toexpose,have spruhgvery naturally from the gross abuses of past ages, from the frequent coalitions of church and state for the oppres- sion of the subject To prevent these evils, some among us seem to have resolved, that government and religion shall not touch one another iu a single point. but shall have totally separate spheres and agencies. Religion shall not enter the hall of legislation; nor shall legislation give support to one column of the 18 » ,• • Tkna all the ideas of venerable- ; erecl from them: nor must religion be strength ec bv any testimonial of the commnmty to its ZLl and excellence, by any grateful offering £TZ state which it upholds. This attempt to divide the great powers which advance human hap. pines* is like striving to separate the elements of !he natural world, and insisting that each shall act by itself, in its own exclusive region. Men forget that all human interests are blended and must be advanced together; and that the highest good of society is to spring from the joint action of all the causes, which operate beneficially on human nature. I have thus aimed to show that religion is a so- cial concern ; that it is not the private, distinct, and narrow thing, which a superficial philosophy is dis- posed to make it, but an all-pervading power and spirit, the friend and guardian of individuals, fam- ilies, and states. A community, once convinced of this great truth, is bound to incorporate it into its publick institutions, and to secure, if possible, to all its citizens, the benefits of christian worship and instruction. In regard to the methods by which these objects should be accomplished, I cannot en- large, even if 1 were competent to the office. I would only observe, that the free spirit of our constitution, which secures to each citizen the election of the particular form of Christianity to which be will give support, is of primary importance, and is demanded by that fundamental principle of a free government, 19 lhat no restraint is to he imposed, which dn not plainly conduce to the public <$ood. 11 to this could he added some provisions, ensuring impartial- ly and universally contributions proportioned to the ability of the individual, tin would dis- charge in a great degree its duty in relation to religion. But this subject T leave to wiser and nnue experienced minds, in the hope and trust, that as a Community, we shall continue to acknowled God, (lie Author of Society, and the Source of our in- estimable public blessings; and that we shall continue to give support to that Religion, for whi< b our an. tors encountered the perils of the wilderness, ami subdued a rugged soil : which Diingled with, conse- crated, and bound together, all their social insti tious : and under which, this Commonwealth Mill Furnishes an example of prosperity, of intelligent «'. nl' persevering and adventurous industry, of public order and private virtue, which perhaps ha- not been often rivalled, and certainly ha- seldom been surpassed, in the histors of nation-. A SERMON DELIVERED AT THE ORDINATION OF THE REV. WILLIAM HENRY FURNESS, AS PASTOR OF THE FIRST CONGREGATIONAL IN PIIILADLLIMU BY HENRY WARS, Ji 10(.II!1! it w THB OHARG k, \|{-)\ BA1 v\i> THE RIGHT HAM) OF FELLOWSHIP PHILADELPHIA : ■ SERMON- brethren, pray for us, thai the word of the Lord may have free court* and be glorified even as it is among you. — 2 Thessalonians, iii. 1. Thi design for which the public institutions of our religion are maintained and itfl :»;i". i> M well expressed in these words, thai they offer ■ suitable introduction to our remarks on the present occasion. They declare the object which we purpose to promote, in Ordaining our brother to the work of the holy mini Thrv describe the end for which he ii t«> labour in the fulfilment of his ministry. They express thai spirit of devout dependence upon God, which should occupy the hearts of those who are this day to •Brethren," says the spostle, 1 'pray for US, 1 the minis- ters of Christ, 'that the word of the Lord' — that word, which we preach, which is God's ♦ruth, and the Morti- fication of man — ' mav have free course and be irlorified' — may have a wide and unobstructed prevalence, and be an object of the admiration, affection, and faith of mankind. This is the object of our prayers and labours. This is the object to which we devote our brother. It mav not be unsuitable to the occasion, to remark on some of the means by which this object may be effected : which I B mpt to do under the two divisions suggested by the text. " 1. 1. In the first place, the circulation of the scriptures ii b powerful means of effecting this object. They are, De sense, the word of God, though not in the sense of our text, as the New Testament did not exist at the time of the apostle's writing this epistle. This volume is the repository of those facts and instructions on which the whole system of our religion rests. The more widely, then, it is known, and the more carefully it is studied, the more generally will religious truth prevail; and if any errors have been mingled with it in its pas- sage down to the present age, the more readily will they be removed. One chief cause of error is want of know- ledge. Men uphold false systems, because they are ig- norant of the true. And the great book of truth cannot be familiarly in the hands of all, exercising its rightful influence over minds and hearts, and yet the dominion of error and falsehood stand. The evil at present is, that the scriptures are neither sufficiently read, nor with sufficient freedom. The many still pay too great deference to their theological standards and religious superiors, and to the impressions of early years. They suppose that they know their religion already, and there- fore, either do not study the bible at all, or they study it for some other purpose than that of learning. So that the light of truth is prevented from reaching their un- derstandings and hearts, either by closing the volume which contains it, or by closing their eyes, when the volume is opened. Whatever is done then, toward pro- moting the frequent, studious, intelligent perusal of the sacred volume, is so much for the advancement and influence of the Gospel; and as it was the bringing out of the scriptures from their hidden places, which shook power of the Papal throne; so it is the thorough removing of the veil from them, and introducing then freely and fe to the undei which shall ensure the dominion of the con- glorious Gospel. 2. The. prevalence of religion is to be C maintenance of Public Wqrshipj ticularly to be noticed, as i principal i which christiai incalculable, but for a moment, thai other and that no in ng and i tuating knowledge, and the infloi been devised, to be compared with ship among different thing ; \'>n- it \ miliar, bi SOnal, and abu\e all, it struction concerni of a high i - with its opulence and pomp, bat in with the intelh to their interests, feelii its po r individual p. It meets tin- people in all their litth inten maintains an unintermil timents and habit should no | 1( |v, unii ration, must act upon the moral world, like the quiet and equal warmth of the sun upon tran. The action id* 01 but the constant and permanent action works won. Men are sometimes led, doubtinglj, to complain, that no greater effects are witnessed. ,ould con- that this institution of a vast and cxten sive machine, operating on an immense scale. A single congregation is but one of the little wheels in the com- plicated arrangement, and may seem to move on with- out bringing much to pass. We must survey it in its connexion with the whole. We must think of this ac- tion as exerted upon a whole people, and as going on from year to year, and from generation to generation. We must consider what society would be without it. Level with the ground your places of social worship. Let the voice of the preacher be hushed. Let the people be no more collected to hear of their duties to God and to one another. Let the seventh day be undistinguished — no respite from the vain pleasures and passionate bus- tle of worldly pursuits ; no intermission of the eager chase of enjoyment and gain ; but from year to year, generation after generation, let the whole community be given up to temporary interests, unreminded of God and eternity. It is easy to conjecture the religious ig- norance and moral desolation that would ensue, and how rapidly the march would be taken backward to the melancholy condition of the heathen. What reflecting man is not aware, that a large portion of the Christian community have no knowledge of their religion, except what they gain from the weekly services of God's House. They are excited to read the scriptures only by the im- pulse which is given there. And therefore the institu- tion of public worship is thafwhrcti sustains among men, certainly the salutary influence, and probably the very existence, of Christianity itself Without this indeed, it might be known to the studious and inquiring, just as the systems of Plato and the Stoics : but its blessings would not be diffused, nor its holy and rejoicing light be shed upon the dwellings, and poured into the hearts ©fits now countless votaries There is a striking illustration of the truth of these remarks in the history of the Jewish people. That peo- ple, although the selected nation of God, acquainted familiarly with a law which had been revealed under circumstances the most imposing and impi i very step of their existence marked with the most surpris- ing displays of the divine presence and power; pees ing a temple and a ritual which surpassed in magnifi- cence the most splendid institutions of the heathen world; — yet were not restrained from constant prone- ness to other religions, and frequent relapses into idol- atry. Observe tin; cause of this. The sacrifices could be offered but at one spot. Their place of public as- sembling was but at one city; to which indeed all the men were compelled to resort three times a year; but only three times, and they became not very scrupulous for more than one attendance, while the srofneo children were not bound to attend at all. It there- fore happened that the inhabitants on the dii borders derived no satisfaction from the pompous ceremonials of their law, of which tiny were scarcely witnesses or partakers : tie or to the altars of the Gentiles than to their own, better acquaint- ed with their worship, and therefore MSll? drawn into \fter their long sufferings in the captiv it \ Ion, they erected ! q all their liUages, col- lected in them for reading and expounding the law every sabbath day, and being thus perpetually intei in their own religion, were no longer attracted bv that their neighbours. It is evident, therefore, brethren, how much is due to the institution of public worship. Whenever you assemble here with those who keep holy time, you are giving essential aid to the cause of divine truth and human happiness. There is said by philosophers to be such a connexion between the distant spheres of the ma- terial system, that no impulse or motion can be felt by one without the participation of all ; so that even the fal!in°- of a stone to the earth, creates a concussion which is recognised and answered in the remotest star. There is a connexion not unlike this, between the differ- ent bodies that compose the Christian system on earth. The operation of each is necessary to that of the whole ; the hindrance of one is the hindrance of all. When you bind yourselves by a vow to-day to labour with your pastor for the regular maintenance of the social insti- tutions of our faith, you are doing what affects the Church universal of our Lord, and is recognised in that distant world where the angels rejoice over every re- penting sinner. And whenever, by neglect, or contempt, or absence, you think merely to testify your dislike of a poor preacher, or your love of an afternoon's repose, you in fact do all, which you can do, to destroy the influ- ence of the Gospel in the world ; — which, if all should follow your example, would soon eradicate its very- existence. 3. Intimately connected with public worship, so that indeed we can hardly separate it even in thought, is the next means which I shall mention of spreading the influ- ence of religion,— namely, Preaching. This is the great divinely appointed instrument of truth and salvation. It pleases God, by the foolishness of preaching, to save them who believe. Without this, public worship, as may easily be observed, would lose its chief efficacy as a moral means, and the Bible would soon cease to be the most common and powerful of books. "W e cannot but admire the wisdom which made this happy provision for the perpetuity of religious know- ledge. Simple and efficacious as it is, the Founder of Christianity appears to have been the first to discern in it that moral power, which should move and control the 9 world. Other religious teachers and reformers had in- structed orally, but it was in schools and groves, a select number, and for a limited time. Jesus was the teacher of man. He addressed himself to the multitude. He adapted himself to every condition and character. He spoke as the reformer, the lead* -;id, of the hu- man race; and hi3 "gracious words*' wert forth through- out the whole mass of society, and changed the moral complexion of the world. His mi re au- thority to his doctrine; but it i :ht the chai ge. Ili> lup the faith that he which co'; . in thai ictly I, as in hi command should call I tomb, and that prea< civil il the presence and power of ' >r un- ler of th ii on earth, who map of the world — laid th< found survive the changes of empire, and the mini of the philo- sophies and reli to make provision ichan ef- Other teacbe committed tl.eir -. writing, lest, being en e but breath, t. But J fideil in the divi th an unconcern truly sublim ibroad to make itl and perpel proof e knew it to be from God. -d. Hu- man instructor- and reformers have elaborately wvc 10 out their systems ; have sometimes clothed them in eloquence which seemed little less than inspiration, and promised perpetual continuance to their influence over man. Yet how small and short has that influence proved! How have their sects disappeared; and by how very few are their works even read, though still accounted among the perfect productions of the human mind ! While Jesus, uninstructed in human philosophy, with no attain- ments in the elegant learning of the world, teaching but for three years, and putting not a syllable upon record — has yet made his instructions as familiar to the nations as their own native tongues — has bestowed on the humblest of his followers a wisdom superior to that of the Grecian masters themselves — nay, has affected the whole mass, both of sentiment and cha- racter, throughout the whole, as those great and labo- rious and long lived men were able to affect only a few familiar friends within the privileged sphere of their own personal influence. By what means was this done ? It was through the institution of preaching. He sent forth his followers to do as he had done, — to spread and transmit his religion by personal intercourse with men — to talk with them of God and their souls as a man talks with his friend — to come near to their understandings and hearts by address in familiar speech, by thrilling tones of voice, by earnest gesture, by the appealing eye and the eloquent coun- tenance—by that living and breathing instrument of communication which God has made, as much more powerful than the dumb register of written words, as the creation of God is higher than the invention of man. They thus went abroad, miracles attesting their com- mission, but with no learning or accomplishments be- yond what their Master had given them, with the sim- ple but sincere and pathetic history of his life and teach- 11 u/g; — and the temples of false religion, the ah immoralities of heat!, -tition vanished before them, and upon their ruins. J from And the efficiency of th - lias perhaps in no way been than in the fact, that tM and declined with their rise and 1 has iwei and e action ; be< ame bi ! i ; — and devoted th< the K ; and if these living the omnipotent e ol the and its moral influe r i«» what a this d to wield, and what an ui l of the gth to do . lid, and honour vou with I I the and his 'lie Ordii - i our faith. v > m of >n can exl prevail, which is not aided bv Id on the inferior nature of nun. 12 spiritual, addressed to a being not purely spiritual, will seldom find access except by external accompaniments, which are more needful to^ some minds, but in some measure are needful to all. And it is observable respect- ing the ordinances of the Gospel, that besides the ordi- nary efficacy attributable to stated rites, they have the weight of an historical testimony to the truth of the religion itself: they are in the nature of monuments erected to the memory of its early facts, to which the very circumstance of their existence is incontrovertible evidence. They are perpetual vouchers for the truth of our religion; and by discontinuing them, you silence the venerable witnesses, which have existed from the day of our Lord, bearing testimony through all the ages. You hide from the world certain striking objects, pecu- liarly adapted to attract regard, to fix the inquiring attention, and prevent Christianity from being lost to the notice of man. But beyond this general importance, is to be consi- dered their value to the faith and comfort of believers. They revive in their minds, and keep fresh, the sense of their connexion with Christ, and their obligation to the truth. By simple, but affectionate and tender, appeals to their hearts, they increase their love, strengthen their faith, quicken their devotion, animate their obedience. They bring nearer to them a sense of that inestimable love which passes knowledge, and work in them a powerful admiration, and diligent imita- tion, of their holy and honoured Lord. No sincere and grateful believer can sincerely and gratefully offer him- self or his child at the baptismal font, or sit down with brethren at the memorial of his master's love, without acknowledging an increase, or at least a confirmation, of the power of religion. No such one can neglect it. alter once tasting its satisfactions, without experiencing 13 a decay of his interest in religion, and an unsatisfied thirst for the appropriate sustenance of his soul. II. Having thus spoken, as far as the occasion de- mands, of the means by which we are to promote the free course of the Gospel, we proceed to the other part of our text, and inquire how we may cau-e it to be glorifieJ. This is not a distinction without a difference : since that maybe upheld by powerful institutions, and e prevail, which yet is not an object <>f reasonable rence and admiration. And the friends of Christianity done but a part of their duty when thev ha\ boured for its diffusion, if they have not also M for it the hoin set, and lave, wbidi are ita That it rightfully chal and trust of man, as being in itself essentially and unspeakably glorious, is be\ond controversy. Vet in order t.» be discerned as such, it must be seen ai it it, in fa beautiful features, and native unmixed excellence. As it came from its author and was d is p lay ed in his life, none have ever been able to regard it w,r rot ot indifference. The eloquent tongue of infidelity itself) like that of the reluctant demons of old, has been com- pelled to utter its eulogy and bear witness to its hea- •venly name. But it might be veiled under such di>-_ mingled with such crude and false philosophy, encum- bered with such unnecessary appendages, and SO impli- cated with the weakness and rices «»t its professed ad- vocates, as to render it repulsive rather than glorious. and procure it enemies instead of friends. They who are set for the defence of the Gospel must remember this, and be earnest to advance such a faithful representation of its doctrines, that even gains shall acknowledge that "God is in them of a truth.'" In deciding what form of doctrine will most attract U 14 our religion the admiration and faith ol mankind, we are liable to deceive ourselves by partial views and limited consid 'rations We are apt to judge too exclusively bat exists before our own eyes, and in the s resent state of the world. But we should reflect, that the doc- uliich is most honoured now, may not be so per- manently; that what now is thought to constitute the peculiar glory of revelation, may not be actually most glorious ; while that which is the contempt of the majo- rity, may not only, under other circumstances, become its admiration, bat may be grand and eternal truth. History overflows with the proof of this position. There was a time when Christianity itself was every where spoken against, and its advocates numbered with the off-scouring of the world. There was a period when the Romish church was the honour and pride of undi- vided Christendom, while the noble company of the Reformers was trodden down in contempt. We are not therefore to judge of what shall be lastingly glorious by the present prevalence of any of its popular forms ; but by its conformity with those attributes of the Divine nature, which are unchanging, those acknowledged laws of truth which never vary, and those principles of the human constitution which are in all ages the same. Every thing else changes with the change of circumstances and the fluctuating tide of manners and opinions. This tide has lifted on its surface, and borne on triumphantly before men, that system of doctrine which is now glori- fied as the uncorrupt and orthodox faith ; but the waters may subside, as they often have done before, and beat it away, when they fall, to the deep gulph of neglect and oblivion. While the simple and more rational system, which is now the object of abuse from those who lead, and of horrour in those who follow, shall win to itself the faith and affection of the world, and rise in 15 glory, as it has been thrust down in shame. For thii we are to toil Let no hosts of opposition discourage us. To advance this, it may be that we must bear oh loquy, reproach and suffering But He who brought it to the world, endured it all before; like this holv doc- trine, was despised and rejected of men : and as he tri- umphed and reigned, so shall this doctrine also. It is true, that in whatever form Christian truth prevail, it is not robbed ot I t j b one proof of its heavenly origin, i 1 hare ever been able to hide it> beauty and BBftjesI Its light has I , and fell all the thick vapours ^\n\ dark clouds that I. accumulated aroufid it away, and the luminary shine from ti own free and unob lour, how far more spicuous would he its glory, and with admiration would it be led ! vVe cannot doubt, then, thai the limp* - mes is most likely to . of the Gospel. Ever) thing proportion to its simp [Tie objects who: grandest in the works of Nature, are among the mim pleat, of the sublime work f the striking characteristics What more Bublime, than the stari \ heavens, the lofty mountains, the unfathomable n, whether sleeping or tern] Yet no ob- jects are more simple, or oiler less complication of ideas. The grandest of the works of man are also the simplest. Those admirable structures, whose ruins the wonder of posterity, and those « equally first in all ages, are for nothing so remark their noble simplicity. What is complicated and intricate, becomes obscure and wearisome; an. oul\ things whose beauty is ever new, and « 16 traction never ceases, are those which are plain and simple. So it is with the Gospel. Compared with the compli- cated systems of the heathen world, and the multitu- dinous observances of the Mosaic dispensation, there is an obvious majesty in its simplicity, which speaks the perfected work of God. If you seek to render it im- posing by a profusion of gorgeous observances, you may indeed seem to succeed for a time, and among some, as has happened in the disguises which it wore in the darker ages of the Church : but you hide its divinest charm, and liken it to the theatrical display of heathen worship. If you annex to it mysterious and subtle dog- mas, which perplex the understanding and are fearful to the fancy, you may seem to excite veneration and awe ; but still there was a profounder awe in the false mysteries of pagan superstition ; and in the schools of the philosophers, there was as great ingenuity and sub- tlety of solemn dogmatism, when * the world by wisdom knew not God,' as has ever existed in the schools of the fathers and doctors of metaphysical Christianity. It is not thus that the religion of Jesus is to be glorified. It is when unadorned that it is adorned the most ; when, strip- ped of all the dazzling and pompous accompaniments by which man would give lustre to the work of God, — it stands forth, as Jesus walked in Judea, humble, un- pretending, without title or state, yet with a native mien of dignity and power, which impresses and overawes. O how unlike the complex works of man, Heaven's easy, artless, unencumbered plan ! No meretricious graces to beguile, Xo clustering ornaments to clog the pile ; From ostentation as from weakness free, It siawls, like the cerulean arch we see, Majestic in its own simplicity. 17 This simplicity of the Gospel is seen in its object, and in the manner in which it accomplishes that object. Its object is the salvation of man, that is, his prepa- ration for the happiness of heaven, by forming in him a holy heart and character, — an object simple and unam- biguous, yet one of the grandest which can be conceived by the human mind. That this is the single ami final purpose of the chris- tian revelation, is written so plainly 00 its very front that it cannot be mistaken. This is what is meant when it proposes to ' make all thi universal regeneration of man and earth : and would ' purify a peculiar people -." \midst all the differences of Christia triad and forms <>t their religion, it has Dei matter ot question that this is its end. Whatever influence the incautious interpretation and preaching of the word may often appear to have had in relaxing the obligation of virtue, and eno BIO ; whatever opinions m consistent with a pure heart and mora) life may have been vehemently maintained : yet it oaf never been deliberately denied, that a pure heart and holy lit. the intended and essential i the Christina tem, without which it d ve. For thi- • the more melancholy, that an\ should be found in the Christian pulpit, to speak in sneering and contemptuous tone- of morality, anil thus render it an object of suspicion and dislike to religious people. Doubtless there is an external superficial pro- priety, sometimes dignified with the name of moralitv, built upon worldly expediency, independent of the great principles of right, and the authority ot God, which, in the view of the Christian, is utterly hollow and insuf- ficient. Rut this should be refened to the class of wrong principles and motives. Speak of it as such, 18 strongly as you please ; but it is a fatal error, on ac- count of this mistake, to cast suspicion upon the very name of morals. For you thus lead men lightly to esteem, easily deride, and practically trample upon, what is as indispensable a part of Christian holiness, as the sermon on the mount is of the New Testament, or the ten commandments of the Old ; and what can be no more innocently slighted, than those holy passages may be expunged from the sacred volume. As the object of the Gospel is thus simple, so also, as I said, are its means. These may be said to be Divine Truth. Truth is the great instrument by which, in this dispensation of God's grace, the human mind is wrought upon, subdued, guided, sanctified, saved. ' Sanctify them by thy truth; thy word is truth.' • Being born again by the word of God, which liveth and abideth forever.' This word, or truth, divides itself into two branches ; doctrines, or principles, and precepts ; in other words, instruction concerning the principles of religion, and concerning their application in practice. In regard to each, great is the simplicity of the means by which the gospel effects its objects. In regard to doctrines, their great purpose is the for- mation of the religious principle. Those which are necessary to this, are few and intelligible. The reli- gious principle, which frames the character of the reli- gious man, and sanctifies him throughout by its influence, is that settled regard to the divine authority, presence, and perfections, which induces a necessary conformity to his will. Now what are the doctrines which are ne- cessary to such a state of mind ? That they cannot be very numerous or very difficult, is evident from this,— that the patriarchs, in the infancy of knowledge and religion, possessed it. The Apostle speaks of it in them 19 under the name of Faith, and declares that it qualified them to 'inherit the promises.' Now their faith, suffi- cient as it was, was a faith in no more articles than the existence, providence, and perfections of God, and a consequent trust in him and subjection to his will, under a sense of their accountablene- It is evident therefore that the religious principle may exist upon the foundation of a fen limple doctrine?. It is equally evident that it doefl - beneath the Christian dispensation. lt- authority and man's accountable gether with the mission ol J< promise l Messi i sod Saviour of men, and a fun, of righteous retribution, are those on which the religious principle is now builded, and by which man is Banctified and saved. <» press the same thing in the word- of our Lord himself; Thu is Hj\ tU rnalt to kntn and Jesus Christ, whom Thou ha»i teilf. There are doubtless other truths connected with thee low- ing from them. But these sre the sufficient principles which lie at the foundation, and sustain, and had to, the others. These are they which the holy script alone enumerate, when thev pn itial to Balvation. These, when thev have made their abode in the mind, are able to control, to subdue, to correct, to elevate, to purify, Thej present the grand and authoritative motives; they combine with themselves all that is affi i ting in the history and ! of our religion; and they pervade the mind, which hearti- ly receives them, with holy and pyre devotion. Such is the simplicity of the Gospel in those docti through which it operates on men. This representation, I am aware, does no* acknow- ledge in the Christian system some of those features, which are by manv thought to belong to it, and to con- D 20 stitute its essential glory. It may seem to such less imposing; it certainly offers less gratification to that thirst for the mystical and mysterious, which some are so anxious to gratify, and which is so strong a propensity in the human constitution, that, if I believed in the original corruption of human nature, I might be inclined to number this among those depraved passions which are inimical to the truth. I certainly conceive it most consistent with the character of a revealed religion, that its revelations be clear and distinct, not wrapped up in obscurity and mysticism. They may not be within the grasp and full comprehension of the finite mind ; but the mind must be able to know what they are ; otherwise they are not revealed. Yet there has always been among men an unwise craving for what is mysterious, vague, inexplicable; for whatever oppresses and overwhelms the imagination, and is in some degree an object of terrific emotion. It is this which has in all ages created the insatiable curiosity to search the secrets of the grave; which has called forth the tales and terrors of superna- tural apparitions, and the cruel and bloody superstitions which appertain to sorcery and magic. It is the same propensity which has led to the loading of all religions with fearful and dismaying appendages. A plain reli- gion, which men can understand and explain, seems to them not suflkiently removed from human things, not sufficiently awful and distant, too well adapted to poor human understanding. They would have shadows, clouds, and darkness rest upon it; they would believe and worship, they know not what. When therefore Christianity came to them, plainly and frankly, to walk with them and converse with them as a familiar friend, they were both astonished and dissatisfied : they thought it ought not to be so simple as it appeared, and soon persuaded themselves that it was not; then they ob- scured it under the follies and fancies, mysteries and 31 forms, notions and speculations, which they had brought with them from their heathen faith and heathen philoso- phy. History tells us how sadly the pure doctrine soon became disfigured by the incorporation of pagan rites and philosophical dogmas: more and more obscured as the age grew darker and darker, until, in the midnight of the barbaric ages, it could hardly be distinguished amid its disguises, for the plain system of Christ. A single example of this may well illustrate this general position. In the early day of Christian; opsis of the Christian doctrine wa^ drawn up, which has come down to us under the name of th< iced. This describes what was then thought to be the orthodox faith; and it represents the Gospel M nearU to its master's simplicity, that si the hetci unitarian subscribes it as heartily as the orthodox trmi- tarian, and with far more consistenoj* But at the council of Nice, so great progress had been made in adapting the Gospel to the human love of the marvellous, that a new creed was fashioned, containing main rerj -ubtle and unintelligible distinctions. Aiut i yet farther lapse toward barbarism, a yet farther adaptation requisite; and then came forth the lull maturity of the Athanasian creed, containing not only the most won- derful mysteries which a degenerate age could exj but the most hearty curses a profligate age could utter. These three creeds may be fairly regarded as three monumeuts, by which the ingress of the dark age- marked. And in like manner they miv ier?e to lignifj the progress of the light of the Reformation. The Athan- asian creed is hardly named amongst Protestants, ex- cept with pity and horror. For even the members of that Church which still commands it to be read thirteen times a year, pay it neither deference nor respect. The Nicene symbol is fast losing its authority and veneration : 22 As knowledge and candor gain ground, the churches are more and more satisfied with the plain exposition of the Apostle's creed; many have even gone back to the true creed of the apostles in the holy scriptures. Would to God that the progress of the Reformation had been more rapid and more thorough ! But the same causes which rendered it necessary, have contributed to retard it. We are not to expect therefore that the Church will return at once to the simplicity that is in Christ. It is too plain and unpretending : yet, in truth, this is its glory; at present too little recognised, too much despised ; yet a wonderful and unspeakable glory. There have been those who would not believe in the remedy which God has in late years provided for the most loathsome of diseases, because it is so simple J and just so, many will not believe that so simple a Gospel can work the regeneration of the world, and therefore they would fill it with wonders. Let us, brethren, receive it as it is, as it lies in the scriptures of truth. Let us not be anxious for other wonders ; the greatest of all wonders is its simplicity. And nothing which the invention of man has added or can add, could so demonstrate " the wisdom of God and the power of God." Besides the doctrinal portion of our religion, there is, I observed, its preceptive portion, which also operates as a chief means towards effecting its great design. Under this division there is a simplicity equally re- markable, though it is unnecessary to enter into so full an illustration. Nothing can be less complicated or obscure. The directions concerning duty are plain and comprehensive; not needlessly multiplied, and so re- ferable to a few great principles, as to be liable to no doubt, forgetfulness or mistake. Love to God and to men is their substance. Whatever is inconsistent with 23 this, is forbidden : whatever is conformable to this, is duty. Love is the fulfilling of the law ; he who che- rishes the principle will never be guilty of a breach if the law. There is needed no extensive learning, no deep and laborious investigation, no profound and intricate ratiocination, to ascertain what the Lord re- quires of us : no volumes of refuted Casuistry, or meta- physical discussions, which should make it a " very learned, subtle, and ingenious i ian." Butthe path is plain, and the directions i and the way- faring man, though a fool, mod not err therein. Such is the i in which the -t be presented, if we would JC and p glory. 1 pass to remark none bi o-ll v in the m-u place, that if we would cause it to Ik- glorified we it with zeal. Tin ^ o( w)la nature, is greatly dependent on the spirit of its friends. Tt i* for them to present its claim., toftrgc then on the notice of men, to SWskeil attention < cite interest in oth ,t ,t bss had | to interest themselves. How man\ arduous ami ill impossible enterprise! have pie force of the ardour with which their conductor pro- secuted them ! How many excellent pUos of oo difficult accomplishment, have been suffered to fail, merely from want of zeal and enterprise in their behalf f With this truth impressed upon us by ail the experience of the past, we cannot look for the Gospel to prevail in an opposing world, except it call forth the /.ealous operation of its friends. It never has can be so. God has made the energy of man to work its prevalence in times past, ami he ha. not changed the constitution of things. Throughout the history of the church, it has been the < fervent ; in spirit' who have commanded the attention and homage of men. Zeal, even when degenerated into fanaticism and separated from the aids of reason, has gathered followers and gained power. And reason, except when allied with zeal and active perseverance, has been little able to maintain, much less to extend, her rightful dominion. God forbid, then, that the greatest and most impor- tant of all causes should be treated by its friends lightly and coolly ; and that through any apprehension of be- ing charged with '. madness,' they should avoid the ear- nest and burning ■ words of truth and soberness,' and the ready self devotion of those who * spend and are spent' to promote magnificent designs. A man without zeal lives to the condemnation either of his own heart, which is incapable of high moral fervour ; or of his pro- fession, which is unworthy of it. Zeal is doubtless a different thing in different men. In some men it can- not be excited to that passion, which it displays in others. But every man is susceptible of a moral energy of action, a devotion of spirit to some favourite object; and this is zeal— capable of cultivation and growth. Let it be cultivated and grow in the friends of religion^ if they would advance their religion. It excites atten- tion, sympathy, and co-operation. It is the spring of suc- cessful action. It is in character what eloquence is in lan- guage. It gives a man surprising power over the minds of others ; it enables him to excite the hearts of the coolest, and engage the exertions of the most indolent. Tu act a great cause coldly is as disgraceful as to plead it sluggishly ; and to do either is to aid in defeating it. It were better to be fanatical than indifferent, for then it might at least be seen that our religion has power to move and agitate. But where reason presides over the religious affections, the last thing to be apprehended is fanaticism ; and success is not to be hoped or expected, 25 except men be addressed with fervour and earnestness, and their moral feelings be engaged by the beautj, grandeur, and excellence of what is in itself so holy and sublime, and so fitted to ensure the perfection of the human character. At the same time, if we would cause the truth to be glorified, it must be advocated with Charity. T be no bitterness, nor clamour, nor wrath, nor malice, nor evil speaking, in the Christian's teal. All an contrary to his Master's spirit, and hinder his b. The spirit of in e sod bigotry has one of the principal obstacles to the progress of the church, and the improvement of man. It basted I ssenmptioa of authority, which Christ aeeet A to the ottering of anathemas! which his word warrant, to the imposition of cr U. winch bind the truth in fetters, ami deprive the SMl of its lawful and liberty. Let all this be discouraged, here and where. Wherever Christ's proclamation of !i been heard, let not the pretensions of human b tolerated. It has shed the best blood of I impiously striven to I, lot out the OS „„.„ from the Lamb's book of life. In tin, I,! ,| [J, dun-eons have bee o destroyed, an. I its faggot £uished, and it has been cast down I throns of power, where it wielded the maf ,d But it still lodges in many an an hap „, and bl with the venemoos breath of its mouth, reputation fluence, and peace. As we honour the name oi ou, Lord, let us « age again si this foe a war of extermination. Let us not res', nor hold our peace, till its power be ui terly trodden under loot. Watch against it. prtj it, preach against it. Let not a word nor a thou^ht^plead for it in this holy place. No, my brother, thongfa voui people, with the madness of Israel when he asked a 26 king, should clamour for a creed that might exclude their own faith from improvement, and other believers from their fellowship., or should press you to fulminate from this place the denunciations of reviling and ill-will which have sounded from other pulpits; resist them to the utmost, and pay any price rather than so far forget the spirit and example of your Lord. And if you, brethren, should ever find in your pastor this sad breach of holy charity, fail not to remind him that he is unfaithful to his trust, and enter your loud protest against this dis- honour to a good cause, this desecration of a holy office. True religion will triumph only as it is free. You set limits to its empire whenever you abridge the right of free inquiry, or allow any man to place himself on the judgment seat of Christ, or nourish in your own bosoms a censorious temper and a spiritual ambition. But above all, in the last place, there is nothing which will so tend to promote the honour of the true gospel, as the faithful and consistent lives of its friends. Its highest eulogy is read in their elevated and uniform devotion, their trust in God, their equanimity in change and tria 1 , their fidelity, in every relation, their integrity, purity, humility, benevolence. To form these virtues m them, to render them * perfect in every word and work,' is the very object to be effected by their adhe- rence to the Gospel. If it be not effected, discredit is brought upon the religion itself, which they profess to advocate, for the sake of a good influence, which their own lives declare it does not possess. But when their conversation is according to the blamelessness and purity of the Christian doctrine, fashioned upon the model of Jesus Christ, and illustrious with the consistent beauty of his excellencies ; it is a living and breathing eulogy of their faith, which every one sees, understands, feels, and acknowledges. The profound scholar, the 27 learned theologian, the eloquent orator, may demon- strate, illustrate, and adorn; but the devout and humble believer, who 'shows his faith by i. -.' will do far more to convince and win. Has it not always been so? I- it not when adorned by the charitable and un- spotted lives of its friends, that the religion of Jesus has been most glorious and admirable ? And been cast down from its honourable place, win' worldliness and I of its advocate- .- Doei not buroa in all ages teach y twever gloriou may be in itself, yet the ill conduct of r may ire that glory, and their exemplar) Uvea rand ■ into our hands, a precious, solemn, awful charge, I by us adorned and recommi kind, or I by us disfigured, obscured, and made I n | men; — even as it is written, ' My name is blasphemed among the nations because of jrou. 1 Waal a reap bilit\ then is ours ! (. faithfully to sustain it ! In occupying the time allotted me OH tl have endeavoured to point out the which it suggests, of advancing religi< - pub- lic institutions, and of recommending il I admiration of men through the character of '!•• lied, and by the leal, liberality, ami i life, with which the great cause ifl ndi my dear brother, these topics particularly add 1 selves. They concern your duties, your h your - u now devote self in the presence and man. It becomes the object of your life to uphold the worship and ordi- nances of the Gospel, and to labour for the advance* ment of its glory in the world. M.^ sat vou a E £8 great blessing ! May he give you zeal, charity, and piety, and make you eminently serviceable to the cause of di- vine truth and human salvation. In the situation to which you have been called, there are circumstances of pecu- liar trial. They fill your mind with solicitude, and they demand from us expressions and acts of sympathy and aid, which I trust we shall not fail to render you. May they never be withheld, and never be ineffectual ; and in every trial, may He especially be your support, who is nearer and greater than all earthly friends. There are also peculiar circumstances of encouragement and grounds of hope, which may well cheer and ani- mate your exertions. May your best hopes of useful- ness and happiness be fulfilled. May you find your se- paration from the friends of your youth, compensated in the kindness and fidelity of those, who welcome you as one of themselves. May you have the great happi- ness of witnessing the prevalence of pure and undefiled religion in all its heavenly and holy doctrines, in all its pure and comforting influences, in all its correcting and regenerating power ; and having been with this people * fellow helpers to the truth' on earth, may you and they see the full glory, and partake the unspeakable felicity of the blessed in the eternal kingdom of God. Brethren of this Christian Society— We offer you our congratulations on the auspicious occurrence of this day. Long and faithfully have you persevered in ad- ministering the worship and ordinances of God's house, according to the dictates of your consciences; and, faith- ful to their dictates, you still persevere. You have the good wishes and prayers in your behalf of your sister hes. May God smile upon you, and send you prosperity. May he abundantly reward 'all your pa- tience of faith and labour of love,' and cause this day to be remembered with devout gratitude, by you and 29 your children, not only during this pilgrimage of your probation, but in the future world of eternal recom- pence. And in order to this, let me exhort you in the words of the Apostle — Brethren, pray for us — pray for your Pastor ; let your devotions encourage him : an«l by your zealous and hearty co-operation, may vou cuiw that the word of the Lord have free coarse and be glorified, around you, beyond you, and throughout the world, even as it is amongst you. CHARGE. . now fill the minister i the oversight of this Charck and - . — The E al Council, he d me tli- , solemnly to enjoin on fidelity. This i wtho- rity, but by the authority of our common Lord aad Mat- ter. Hear it Worn the mouth of hit inspired An • Take heed to the ministry which you have received of ord, thai you lull'; Vou have studied the duties of your p and we trust you need not be reminded of their import 1 for the motives, under the influence of v. huh, these duties should be performed, and I - * their il tnt endea vours to imbue your own mind a ipiritoftl vine Author of our religion, to implant Christian prin- itio*, honourably to support your professional character, and faithfully, and - in your power, acceptably to He the labours of a minister — This is essential to ilvation of your own soul, and is necessary to the success of your ministry. A our situation as a clergyman is favourable forchn- nan improvement. You labour exclusively in the mo- ral kingdom of God. In other professions and pur- suits, bodily wants and worldly interests are principally concerned, but mind is the exclusive object of the mi- nister of the Gospel. Other men labour for the conve- niences and comforts of a momentary existence ; you labour to excite in your fellow men the love of truth, and the pursuit of virtue, and to confirm in them the hope of life eternal. Your stated business directly tends to the cultivation of your intellectual powers, and the improvement of your moral affections. In" other pro- fessions, a man may become eminent without the pecu- liar attainments of the disciple of Jesus ; but the better the minister is informed, the more enlightened is the christian ; the more faithful the minister, the more per- fect the man All men are under obligation to walk worthily of their christian vocation, but the minister is set apart to be an example to believers, in word, in conversation, in charity, in spirit, in faith, in purity. "While a leader then in public offices of devotion, shall your own heart be undevout ? While inculcating precepts of charity and beneficence, shall not the kindly affections be cherished in your own breast ? While you daily exhort your fellow men to prepare for death, judg- ment, and eternity, will you not for yourself estimate the worth of endless happiness, and with all your pow- ers aspire after the employments and joys of Heaven ? Take care that the moral tendency of your profession be not counteracted by unhallowed passions, or worldly interests. Take care that the reiteration of religious services do not degenerate into a mere form, blunt your moral sensibility, and harden your mind to impressions of piety. Take heed, lest by any means, when you have preached to others, you yourself should be a cast- away. 33 The ecclesiastical state of our country powerfully enforces the obligation of a minister to fill up the mea- sure of pastoral duty. In a past century the order of the priesthood was holden in high veneration, and the authority and influences of the clergy were control- ling; even where the clerical character was not deemed indelible, nor the profession a panoply for gross immo- rality, the cloth did cover a multitude of weaknesses- Through New England, at least, Protestant Di-senters were with few exceptions of one denomination, and with- drawing from the predominant - considered as a fall but little less heinous than ip -n Chris- tianity. Under these circumstances, the ministry wa- supported by public sentiment, the min areer was comparatively easy, and ordinary prudence Mpport- the pastoral relation. Times are changed; and the situation of ministers is changed with them. Though the order ia -till acknow- ledged to be important to the best interest! ofe©< yet respect is now paid to the man, if the mi- nister, in a much higher degree than formerly. The clerical profession with us i> no cover for weak' levity, or imprudence. Religious freedom if in our land, and all denomina inns of Christians placed in a state of perfect equality. The age is inqui- sitive, the spirit of inquiry is carried into subjects of religion, and no system of doctrine can stand merely on the basis of human authority. Every opinion will be brought to the test of reason and scripture. The peculiar circumstances attending the present state of the Christian ministry need not be regretted, but should furnish motives for strenuous effort; and the purpose of the above remarks, my brother, is the more deeply to impress on your mind the importance of honourably supporting the appropriate character of a 34 minister of the Gospel, and of performing with efficacy the duties of the pastoral office. The bulwarks erected by civil government for the defence of the clerical order are removed from you. You must stand on your own individual responsibility; and, as it respects human means, the accomplishment of the design of the Chris- tian ministry, in this society, is in a high degree sus- pended on your personal character, on your exemplary conduct, and on the intelligent, serious, and acceptable manner in which you perform the public duties of your profession. In your situation, ordinary vigilance and exertion will- not be accepted. Every deficiency and defect will be pointedly noticed, and some may think you their enemy because you tell them the truth. Embody then our re- ligion in your life, and give it, in view of all around you, a visible form, The unobtrusive example of the pious and benevolent minister addresses the people of his charge with persuasive eloquence ; and the clerical character consistently supported, and the habitual ex- emplification of Christian virtues and graces, will even- tually secure general respect and esteem. How bitter would be the regret, should the sublime cause, to which you have devoted yourself, suffer through your deficien- cy! Whether your ministry shall prove successful, depends in a great measure on the wisdom and propriety of your life and conversation. Even suspicion that you are destitute of professional information, or are in moral character defective, would to you be fatal. If you lose, the confidence of your own flock, you will lose the power to do them good. Should your character in common estimation become tarnished, your public usefulness will come to an end. Will the consequent mortification be compensated by any gratification to be enjoyed from the indulgence of an indolent mind, or a participation 35 in the empty amusements of the world ? But, beloved brother, we are persuaded better things of you, and things that accompany salvation, thou-!, we T | )U " S sp L . a k. ^ Our religion furnishes motives to fortify yum resolu- tion, to animate your diligence, and enliven you, even in a situation which will require in an ui degree strenuous and unwearied exertions. Yo expect comparatively little aid In.,,, Jour minis! brethren. An independent -pint mnstbe your sup and you must depend on the n mind. Be not diet and dangers which the apostles ol our Lord en | when they went forth to preach the Gosp I. their snreringa moved then : dot did the lives dear unto the 10 thej night f: - Sonne with joy, and the ninistry which thej of the Lord Jesus to testifj the Gospel ol the i God. Consider that Jesus himself, in lubmisnon to the will of his Rather, endured the cross, and despised the shame. Remember the divine promises t • M r sufficient for thee; for my - , ()( . per f ej weakness,"— "They thai be wise shall shine u the brightness ot the firmanent, and they who turn many to rifc+teo stars for e?er and ever." Corel then earnest^ the best . fts. r .. beed n thyself to reading and to prayer. Do the work of an evangelist Fulfil thy ninisti In doing this, thou shah both Bave thyself, and them that hear thee. RIGHT HAND OF FELLOWSHIP. The day on which a young man is consecrated to the work of the christian ministry, isaday of interesting as- sociations, ol many hopes, and man J anxieties. In the freshness of opening life, be conies willingly to the altar of God, and offers there, not the gifts of provi- dence, not the service of an hour, but the labour of his whole earthly being ; he ofl If. both body and soul, to the cause of heaven, rhe occasion awakens in the minds of those, who have already given themselves to the pastoral office, renin - of a solemn and tender nature. The day is a day of sympathy, of na- tural and religious sympathy. The scenes of a former time rush to mind, when they too went in the of christian faith, and made their vice. The feelings of that period come back, when the heart was full to overflowing, and the experience of the hours since that period comes with them, to tell that the apprehensions of the spirit were not groundless, that the ministry of the gospel of Christ is not an idle charge. The path on which a new brother cheerfully enters, has been found by those who have preceded him, to be a straight and narrow way, in which many diffi- culties must be surmounted, and constant vigilance be 38 exercised. They therefore, while they exhort him to be faithful to his trust, and set before him the duties that he is required to discharge, withhold not the expression of their joy and sympathy ; their joy, that he has under- taken an honourable and glorious work, their sympa- thy in his future trials. They are incited to this office of kindness, not merely by the feelings of natural as- sociation, but by the spirit of Christianity, and the ex- ample of its first teachers. Our religion is an affectionate religion, and in this respect, as well as in its spiritual character, is distinguished from all other systems of faith and practice ; and so far as any form of doctrine or conduct, breathes not the spirit of love, it deviates from pure Christianity. St. Paul, in vindicating his apostolic character to the Galatians, tells them among the circumstances of his commission, that he received the right hand of fellow&hip from the other apostles. When they had determined the sphere of their respec- tive labours, when he and Barnabas were appointed to go unto the heathen, while James, and Peter, and John went unto the circumcision, they gave each other the right hand of fellowship. It was a symbol of their mu- tual relation, their equal authority, and their common affection. It was a pledge of their future remembrance, and perpetual union. They were on the eve of sepa- ration. A life of toil and danger lay before them ; the world was their field of exertion. They knew not that they should ever again meet on earth. They were bound together by the ties of faith and suffering, and these ties required them to part. At such a moment, with how much fervour must that pledge of fidelity to each other, and to their Master, have been exchanged. It was not an unmeaning ceremony. It was the grasp of fraternal and christian affection, of men of strong minds and warm hearts bidding each other farewel on the en- 39 trance of a journey through persecution and distress ; of fellow disciples going to spread a new religion through the earth, who might never be animated by each other's presence, till they received the reward of their labours in heaven. The ministers of the gospel have not now the same painful anticipations, which were shared bv its early teachers. But they have much to endure, and much to effect; and the simple ceremony, which the apostles adopted, still retains its meanii feelings springing from our Data re and - -d by our religion. And in accordance with the custom of our churches, 1 now, in behalf of myself ft nd <> this pi edge of congratulation ami sympathy. My brother, I give you the right hand of fellowship. it> mea you will not question ; its sincerity yon will not d In the name of this council of pastors and delegal salute you as a regularly ordained minister ol pel of Christ, and declare to this assembly, and to all men, that you are in our view Cully constituted a bishop in the church of the Lord. Too arc clothed with an office of great importance and respOnsibleness By the prayer of consecration and the imposition ofhandi have been separated to peculiar duties and prmli To these duties I welcome yon, not because thoj arduous, but because they are holy and honourable. You will labour in the c&USC ofOod and of his BOD Jesus Christ. You will be united with God our father in the salvation of men ; his grace wil 1 ,u, and bv you will his grace be dispensed. You will follow the of the Lord Jesus; you have the same end in view tor which he taught, suffered, and died. As an ambassador for God in Christ's Btead you will stand in thi> h It is an honourable office. The faithful, consistent, Christian minister, let him be in poverty or obscuritv. 40 in suffering or persecution, is in the employment of heaven ; and what higher station could he demand. You will minister, not in carnal, but in spiritual things. It will be your aim to pour light into the darkened mind, and consolation into the wounded heart; to give hope to the desponding, confidence to the humble, and peace to the dying. The mourner will rest on you for sup- port, and you must point him to the christian's Father, and to the christian's home. The doubting will come to you for instruction, and you must unfold to him the truths of our religion. The sick will call on you for prayers, and you must teach him to ask in faith and submission. You will watch the departing of the spirit, and let it ascend to heaven in the incense, of your de- votion. Such are the least painful duties to which you will be summoned. It is not becoming in me to urge these or other labours upon you : you have been solemnly charged to exhort, admonish, and edify by word and by example. I would name these services that I may encourage you in view of them ; for they carry their reward with them. In the gratitude of those whom you benefit, in the love of those whom you serve, in the improvement of those whom you teach, you will find ample compensation for all your perseverance ; you will enjoy the confidence of many hearts ; you will share in tbe joys as well as the sorrows of many families ; you will be the friend as well as the minister : chambers will be cordially opened to you which affliction has closed to all others; Ihe eye of the sufferer will brighten at your entrance ; many souls which God alone has searched, will be revealed to you ; much genuine goodness, much fervent piety which the world sees not will be discovered by you : and after a day spent in the communion of other minds, when you have witnessed all varieties of situa- tion, and have been called at one moment to rejoice with 41 those that rejoice, and at another to weep with those that weep, you will find in the evening meditation of your own thoughts a satisfaction that will far outweigh fatigue, and drive away despondency. To such privileges, to such joys, which none but a devoted minister can taste, I welcome you. I know that you will need them, and will value them. I welcome you, inv brother! to a life of trial, and of reward. 1 would not that you should think it an easy task to minister at the christian altar; the tire must be watched day and night Th of your exertions is the salvation ul* men, and tin- believe, is not a light matter. It demand! a f> faith, a zealous piety, a cun.ta.it Be If -denial, I of heart, and soul, and life, to ..no absorbing int< If you would be happy and blessed inyoarmio must have a spirit which no difficult unbending as God's truth, and icth (, ,|\ |)rov i' dence. Your situation is peculiar: vou w.ll have not only the usual trials of a minister's life, but man; mg Iron, your place in this city, surrounded bv those who are warmly ami conscientiouslj Oj | faith, and separated from the intercourse of thoae who with you, believe Unitarian Christianity to be the reli- gion of the gospel. Your ministerial dories will be heavier, your language will be mure liable to misrepre- sentation, and your comluct will be more strictly watch- ed than those of most of your brethren. Hut vou hive also the conviction, founded on the Mu.lv of the Hrble that you hold the truth, and the confidence, restingon the character of God, that the truth shall prevail You have the example of other pastors who gave themselves to the cause of a pure faith in like circumstances, and who have seen that faith making sure progress, and spreading ,ts light through the clouds of prejudice and opposition, and who now look with confidence rather 42 than anxiety to its universal diffusion. It must be so here, unless the providence of God, which once permitted the darkness of error to exclude the religion of Jesus from almost every spot on the earth, should still delay the time, when that religion shall be recognised at once in its purity and simplicity. My brother, you can employ one argument, which, in itself, is able to vanquish the prejudices of men, and, without which, controversy can effect little You can exercise the irresistible eloquence of goodness A holy, humble, and charitable life is a testimony in your favour which must silence and con- vince your adversaries. They may deny your sincerity, may charge you with religious indifference, may call you unbeliever, but let your answer be, " I will show my faith by my works ;'' and though the bigoted may shut their eyes to the evidence, the community will judge the tree by its fruits Be not disheartened by the troubles which you may meet in the very entrance of your work. The burthen of cares and duties will be heaviest at first ; a scholar's life is not adapted to fit one for the perplex- ities of the ministry. You are thrown at once from the bosom of home, and the seclusion of study, into the new relations of the pastoral office. If you are too sanguine, you must bear disappointment; if you despond, you will destroy the energy that will be needed. Be of good courage. You are young ; so was Timothy when he re- ceived the injunction, let no man despise thy youth. You will be alone ; so was Paul when standing on Mars' hill, he spake as the servant of the one living God. Look at the saints of former times ; remember those who, in these latter days, have endured much, and re- signed much for the interests of pure Christianity. Faith, hope, and charity, these, my brother, are the three great virtues of the christian character, and are they not suf- ficient for the severest trials ? What difficulties shall 43 not faith surmount ? Our Saviour has said, nothing is impossible. What gloom shall not hope convert into brightness? What enemy shall not charity soften, if it cannot subdue? Did I just say you had left the bo- som of home ? You are cast into the midst of friends. You have forsaken your father's house at the call of duty, and this people have opened their arms to you. The protectors of your youth are far from you, but the associates of your manhood are gathering themselves around you. Your brethren in the ministry, who will rejoice in your success, are distant from you; none will be here to encourage you by their aid and coun- sel, but you will not be forgotten. Many remembrances and many hopes will rest upon you. Our ptmjeri will be offered to heaven for your welfare; our sympathy will be given you in trial and in success. Your name will be on our lips, and though we may seldom exchange this pledge of union, our thoughts, our solicitude, our hearts will be with you. We claim no authority over you. Never may we violate the principles which we assert, the independence of churches, the lights of conscience, and the freedom of private judgment. The hand' of fellowship shall always be the hand of help, but God forbid, that it should ever be the hand of tyranny. If you reciprocate the feelings, which, in the name of this council, and of the portion of christians which they represent, I have expressed, let me ask of you a similar pledge of love and remembrance. My friend and brother ; I have spoken for others ; I scarce dare to speak for myself. This is not a suit- able place for the exhibition of private emotions, but propriety does not forbid, and our past friendship de- mands, that I should once more proffer you this hand. I give it to you as the hand of one who has known your struggles, who confides in your character, and G 44 most truly wishes you success. I had indulged the hope that we should not be thus separated, that as we had passed the years of our youthful studies together, we -might assist each other in our active duties. The Providence of God has disappointed these hopes. He has placed you in a sphere of great usefulness. Look up; the field is one of immense ex- tent and promise. Enter upon your labour cheerfully ; enter upon it with christian resolution. We are united my friend, in the same undertaking. A few months only have elapsed, since I received the solemn charge which has this day been imposed upon you. The feelings of that time are still fresh ; they are recalled in fulness by the services of your ordination. "We have known each other's sentiments, doubts, and hopes. Let us pur- sue the same course of zealous duty, and though we may seldom meet in this world, we shall be prepared for a happy union in eternity. Go on then, my brother ; and God's blessing go with you. May you be happy in the approbation of a good conscience. May you rejoice in a successful ministry. May you be blessed with your people's love. May the aged receive you as a friend who will uphold their trembling steps ; may the young cluster around you as the guide to their inexperienced feet. You have given your youth to God, may he give you many days of health, and an old age of honour. And may you then be rich in the affections of those, whose infant minds you formed to piety. May you descend to a grave hallowed by many tears. May your memory be that of the just, and your portion be God's love for ever. To this Society, we present our sincere and hearty congratulations. We rejoice with you christian friends, in the promises of this day. You have struggled through much embarrassment and obloquy. You have sur- I 45 mounted difficulties that would have broken a les9 de- termined spirit. You have now found one who is ready to devote himself to your good, and tearing himself from the scenes of education, of domestic affection, and of early habits, to intrust his happiness to your hands. You will therefore receive him with no little kindness, and while he deserves your approbation, you will con- tinue to him the expressions of your gratitude. He will look to you for assistance, for indulgence, and for affection. Let him not look in vain. Should he err, remember his youth, and his perplexities. Do not de- mand of him more than he can perform. Do not bur- then him with ('uties, which, from his age and situation, it is impossible that he should discharge. Give him your entire confidence. He has shewn that he seeks not ease nor wealth, but usefulness, and that he may bo useful to you, he must know your characters. Listen to his instructions ; attend upon them, and let him see that you are interested by them. Let not the fervour of your zeal abate, when the excitement of this occasion shall subside. Be not wise merely in the things of con- troversy, and oh ! do not cherish the spirit of partv. It is at best an enemy forced to fight on the side of Chris- tianity. It is not the spirit of our religion, for the one is mild and charitable, the other is proud and selfish. You justly glory in the distinctions of being Unitarians, but it is a nobler privilege to be christians. Do not forget the greater in the less. The success of your minister, as well as of the doctrines which he maintains, will depend very much on your co-operation with him, by illustrating his instructions in your lives. Nothing will tend more to discourage him than your negligence. Nothing will be a better comment on his preaching than your holiness. His exertions will be confined to you and your families. He will be deprived of the religion? 46 sympathy, and in a great degree, of the social inter- course of others, while your secular and domestic rela- tions will bring you into constant collision with the community about you. On them you may exert a pow- erful influence. By the language of your daily con- duct, by the testimony of your blameless lives, you may win many to the profession of a faith which produces such virtues. Your minister will thus, by enkindling in you the graces of the christian character, save his own soul, have you for the crown of his rejoicing, and be a means of spreading pure and undefiled religion throughout the land. Brethren, to you, under the pro- vidence and grace of God, we commend him. His hap- piness he has linked with yours ; his joy must be your joy, his sorrow must be your sorrow. The progress of truth here, as elsewhere, must be gradual ; and it will be pursuing its silent course in the minds of men, when you may think that it is sleeping. Let your youthful pastor find from you counsel, aid, confidence, sympa- thy, and love. We do not distrust the sincerity of your hearts, nor do we. bplieve, that the promises of this day shall deceive us. The perseverance and union which have distinguished you under circumstances of peculiar trial, give the assurance of your future success. The first day of toil is over. The morning of a brighter has burst upon you : may it never be darkened by the mists of passion or variance. Be at peace among your- selves, and the clouds of persecution shall in vain ob- scure your name. They shall be converted into the splendid attendants of its progress, as its goes forth sub- duing, cheering, and enlightening. Peace be to this house. For our brethren and companions' sake, we say, peace be within its walls. And when they shall have crumbled into dust, may its worshippers be found united in a more glorious, even a heavenly temple* INAUGURAL aHtswDwiBs; l.l) % HEFORE THE UNIYERSITl IN CAMBRIDGE, AUGUST 10, 1810. B1 INDREW8 NORTON, \»Kiro(*S«cnt! CAMBRIDGE : PRINTED BT II I II .lAlin WIJ If] AT T.' :s & Hillbrd, n««ton Dookitorc, No. 1 CornliiJI. 1819. NOTE. On account of the length of the following discourse a considerable portion of it was omitted in the delivery. The whole is now printed, CONSTITUTION AND RULES OF THE THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY OF THE l.MVERSITY Of CAMBRIDGE. The Theological Department, or Faculty of The of the University, shall comprise the President and the fol- lowing Prof l. TheAK'ord Pr of Natural Religion and Moral Philosophy, who shall lecture and teach in these t according to the statutes of the Alfbrd ProJeasorship, and the regulations estahliahed, not repugnant thereto, i>y the College law. ! lie Hollis Professor of Divinity, wh > shall give iu- I'lion to the theological students in positive and con- troversial divinity, including the evidences, and principle- of natural religion, and the evidences, doctrines, and dot of revealed religion : said Professor performing all the du- ties of the Mollis Professorship Which he holds. 3. The Hancock Professor of Eehrew and other Orien- tal Languages, who is to give instruction in tl rnm- . and in their application to the int. > u of the scriptui i. A Professor of Sacred Literature, or expositor) theol- ogy, who shall treat of the criticism and interpretation of the scriptures. 5. A Professor of Pastoral Theology, who shall give in- struction in the duties of tin- pastoral offt e, and the com- position and delivery of sermons 4 6. A Professor who shall treat of sacred and ecclesiasti- cal history, including Jewish antiquities, and of church order. 7. The Professors in either of the ahove branches may, in their instructions, omit the particular consideration of sucli subjects in their respective departments, as may be pointed out by the Corporation, said subjects being suffi- ciently discussed by other Professors and Instructers in the University. 8. The Professor in the fourth department shall be de- nominated the Dexter Professor of Sacred Literature. 9. The Dexter Professor, and the Professors of Pastoral Theology, and of Ecclesiastical History shall perform such duties in the theological instruction of the University, as may from time to time be assigned by the Corporation, al- ways including, with respect to the Dexter Professor, those specified by the Corporation of the College and the Trus- tees of the Society for promoting Theological Education at the University, who are in part the founders of this Profes- sorship. 10. The Professors to be appointed shall have the privi- leges and powers pertaining to the Professors of the College generally, as well as make the usual promises and engagements. 11. Graduates of any public College or University are permitted to reside at the University as students of divinity, having the assent of the Faculty of Theology, and conform- ing to the laws and regulations made for the government of such students and of resident graduates generally. 12. Applications are to be made in person or by letter to one of the members of the Faculty, and when distance or other circumstances require, must be accompanied by testi- monials of good abilities, literary progress, and an unblem- ished chararter. 13. All students in divinity are to be matriculated by signing with the President an engagement to conform to all the laws of the University made for their government. 14. All theological students residing at the University, who have not completed the usual course of theological studios, shall belong to the seminary, and attend the public and private instruction of the same : provided the Faculty may, in special cases, dispense with portions of this attend ance. No one will receive the pecuniar? aid of the Insti- tution or have the usual testimonial, unless he lias been reg- ular in attending the course of exercises and studies pre- scribed, as well as exemplary in every part of his conduct. 15. The Faculty will, at the beginning of each college year, and in the course of the year, when there may he oc- casion, make a report to the Corporation on the distribu- tion and application of the Hopkins foundations, the funds of the society for promoting theological education, and oth- er sums appropriated to the benefit of students in divinity ; and the orders for the sums allowed will he given half yearly by the President, he receiving previously to the issu- ing of any order, a certificate from the instructor or in- structors, on whom each student shall attend, that he has diligently pursued the course of studies and exercises ap- pointed. 16. There shall be an annual examination of the Semi- nary by a Board of Visiters to be appointed for that purpose. JOHN T. KIRKLAND, President. Aug. 1819. INAUGURAL DISCOURSE A he liberality of our citizen?, and especi- ally of one distinguished individual, who bore a name which has long been honored, and which I hope >\ill long continue to be honored among us, having afforded new fa- cilities for theological instruction in this University, an additional professorship has in consequence been founded. About to enter on the duties of this new oflice, I have thought, that it would not be uninteresting or useless to speak of the extent and relations of the science of theology, or in other words, of the intellectual acquisitions and endow- ments required to constitute a consummate theologian. I can, it is true, do little more than lead you to an eminence, and point out hastily the grand features of the prospect which lies before us ; but even this rapid view may not be altogether unprofitable. Iii such a survey as I have proposed, it is in its relations to metaphysics, that theology may be first considered. It treats of God, and of man considered as an immortal being. Upon these subjects revelation has taught us truths the most important ; and some of the noblest and most powerful efforts of human reason have heen employed in deducing the same truths from the moral and physical phenomena by which we are surrounded. It is one part of the business of a theolo- gian to make himself familiar with those reasonings, by which the mind, now that it has been educated by christianty, is able, even when left to its own powers and resour- ces, to establish or render probable the truths of religion. He must become the interpre- ter of the works and providence of God ; and qualify himself to perceive the harmony between the two revelations which God has given us ; — that, which is taught us by the laws which govern the world, as they pro- ceed in their regular operation ; and that, whose divine origin was attested by the pres- ence of a power controlling and suspending those laws. He will find a perfect harmony between them ; and will perceive that the evidences of both, though derived from sour- ces the most remote from each other, flow together at last, and bear us on to one com- mon object, the truth of the essential prin- ciples of religion. Yet notwithstanding the strength of argu- ment by which these principles are support- ed, we cannot but remark that our conclu- sions are embarrassed by some difficulties ; and we know that scepticism lias labored to overthrow all our reasonings. The theologian, in pursuing his inquiries respecting these difficulties and objections, if he be determin- ed to follow them to the uttermost, will be obliged to go on to the very limits of human knowledge ; to the barriers which the mind has not yet passed, and which perhaps are im- passable. He must fix a steady attention upon ideas very abstract, shadowy and inadequate. Where the last rays begin to be lost in utter darkness, he must distinguish in the doubt- ful twilight between deceptive appearan- ces, and the forms of things really existing. He must subject to a strict scrutiny words and expressions which often deceive us, and often mock us with only a show of meaning. He must engage in complicated and diffi- 10 cult processes of reasoning, in which the terms of language, divested of all their usual associations, become little more than algebra- ic symbols ; and in pursuing these processes, he must proceed with the greatest attention and accuracy, because a single false step may render his conclusions altogether erro- neous. The inquiries to which we are led by the ob- jections of the sceptic, are curious, and in some respects important. But they are not those in which a man of sound mind will habitually de- light. He will pass from them to studies more satisfactory, and which have a nafore direct in- fluence upon the conduct and happiness of men, with feelings similar to those of the voyager, who having visited the barren though wonderful regions of polar solitude, where the sun dazzles without warming, is return- ing to a mild, inhabited, and cultivated cli- mate. In respect to the metaphysical objec- tions to our faith, it is to be remembered that the triumph over religion cannot be an early, but must be the last and most difficult achieve- ment of scepticism. The temple in which we worship is placed within the citadel of human reason ; and before it can be ap- 11 proached for the purpose of destruction, al- most all our knowledge must have been sur- rendered. He who doubts the existence of G«>d, has left himself no truth dependant on moral evidence, which he can reasonably believe. In natural religion, we learn the character of God by a wide induction from the laws of his moral government, and from the object* and phenomena of the physical world. Here then is another field of study opened to the theologian. We are surrounded by an un- known and immeasurable power, which is every moment producing motion and life, and manifesting itself by effects the most astonishing and admirable. AVe must study the character of this power in its works. In order to do this, we must borrow aid from that science which has wheeled in triumph through the signs of heaven, AYe must en- ter the lecture room of the anatomist, and learn how fearfully and wonderfully 7ve are made. And we must follow the student of na- ture to the fields, and woods, and waters, and inquire of the objects to which he directs us, what they can teach of their Maker. These studies are important, not merely as furnish- 12 mg materials for argument, but because they awaken, and render vivid, our feelings of devotion. In contemplating the perfections of God without reference to his works, they present themselves to us as metaphysical abstractions, which in their obscurity and vastness almost mock our comprehension. But when we turn to his works, we per- ceive his power, wisdom, and goodness em- bodied, as it were, and rendered visible. But our religious faith rests for its main, support on what we believe the declarations of God, communicated by Jesus Christ. What then is the evidence that Jesus Christ was indeed the messenger of God? This inquiry is connected with the whole history of God's miraculous dispensations, and will lead the theologian to the study of all the evidence relating to these subjects. Upon entering on this study, when he inquires what it is which is to be proved, he will find that a mass of statements and propositions of very differ- ent importance, have been blended togeth- er ; and his first object must be, to distin- guish and separate those, the truth of which it is indeed essential to maintain. He will then have for his purpose, to make himself 43 acquainted with the whole evidence, hy which these essential truths are to be defended, to view the subject in all its relations, and to be aware of every objection and difficulty. His faith must not be the offspring of prejudice and ignorance, confident only because it ha* not examined, and ready to think an insult a good answer to an objection : nor a timid and doubtful belief, always liable to be start- led by some unexpected disclosure, the re- sult of that state of mind, in which one lias proceeded in his inquires only so far, as to perceive that much remains to be settled. The proof of the miraculous dispensations nf God consists in a series of the most remark- able phenomena, which, if we reject the be- lief of such interpositions, can be accounted for by no other causes : and which have marked the whole history of man with a track of light, like that of the setting sun up- on the ocean. It is confirmed. I will venture to add, by the antecedent probability of such communications from God to man. In mak- ing himself acquainted with the evidences of our religion, as they have been commonly stated, the theological student will perceive, that it is only a portion of its proof which 14 has yet been collected and arranged ; and that in the most able works which we have on the subject, that of Paley for instance, is to be found only an abridgment, or a passing notice of many important arguments, while others are wholly omitted. Even in order to feel the full force of those arguments to which his attention may be directly called, he must apply the results of his own inqui- ries to the statements which may be laid be- fore him. We speak for instance of that evidence for our religion, which arises from the intrinsic divinity of its character. But in order to estimate this evidence justly, we must compare our religion with the systems of philosophy and morals by which it was preceded. It was indeed a most marvellous event, and wholly out of the sphere of natur- al causes, that one who had never entered the schools of human wisdom, who had lived all his life in the midst of the gross ignorance, the inveterate prejudices, and the habitual and degrading vices of Galilean Jews, sur- rounded by a people not more cultivated nor intellectual than those who now occupy the same land, that such a one should make known to mankind a universal religion, the 15 most pure, the most holy, and the most pow- erful iu its operation. But in order to feel in all its force how marvellous a thing this was, we must know how much, or rather how little, had been previously effected by the ef- forts of the wisest and most enlightened of men. We must study their works, and we must make ourselves acquainted with the moral and religious state of mankind, which preceded and was contemporary with the in- troduction of Christianity. — In considering the external evidences of our religion, the theologian, if he be determined to \iewthe subject in all its relations, will find himself conducted into the most difficult parts of ec- clesiastical history, placed upon dcbaieable ground, where there are guides enough to be sure, but few whom he can safely trust ; where he must compare the reports of one with those of another, and examine for him- self, and rely upon his own judgment. And though the result will be, I trust, the full con- firmation of his faith, yet the opinions with wbich he concludes, may not be altogether the same as those with which he commenced his inquiries. When he comes to the study of the scriptures, in proportion as he removes 16 all the accumulated rubbish of technical the- ology, under which their meaning has been buried, and obtains a distinct view of it, he will discern new and very striking evi- dence of the truth of our religion. It is evidence, but a small portion of which has yet been distinctly stated by any writer. We have indeed scarcely any work relat- ing to it, except that very valuable one of Paley, his Horse Paulinse. It is evidence which arises from the agreement of the New Testament with itself, the coincidence and correspondence of its different parts, and its agreement with all our knowledge respecting that state of things, which existed during the time of the first preaching of Christianity. The New Testament consists of different writings, comprizing accounts of our Sav- iour's ministry, some account of the minis- try of his apostles, particularly of that of St. Paul, many discourses of the former, and va- rious letters written by the latter. The whole history which we here find is consist- ent with itself; and the discourses and let- ters are consistent with the history, and even cannot be understood without a careful study of the latter ; nor for the most part without 17 forming a distinct conception of the particu- lar occasion of their delivery or composition. These discourses and writings reflect, as it were, the ever varying circumstances, which marked that most extraordinary state of things, produced by the ministry of our Sav- iour and his apostles. They have a relation throughout to the strong prejudices, the un- founded and extravagant expectations, the narrow conceptions, the limited knowledge, and the violent and vacillating passions of those to whom they were addressed. Nor ii this coincidence of which I speak confined to discourses and writings : it appears also in what was done hy our Saviour and his apostles. It is a correspondence of their words and actions to all that we know,** can rMDMI&bty infer, respecting (he very peculiar circumstances in which they acted and taught: a correspondence, at the same time, to which it was clearly not the purpose of the writer to direct the attention of his readers. This cor- respondence appears throughout the New- Testament, ramifying into numberless partic- ulars, spreading every where, and binding every part together. As we pursue our in- quiries, it assumes at last a character so re- 3 18 markable and decisive, as I may venture to say, puts out of question all supposition of fiction in the history, or forgery in the writ- ings. No human artifice could approach to- ward giving such a perfect imitation of na- ture, with all its accidents, and all its minute and latent characteristics. And why has not this internal evidence of the truth of our re- ligion been more regarded ? I answer, be- cause the scriptures have been for the most part so imperfectly understood ; because their meaning has been seen blurred and distorted through the medium of gross theo- logical errors. It is a subject which particu- larly claims the attention of the theological student. The study of the Bible, and particularly of the New Testament, is, perhaps more than any other, the peculiar province of the theologian. In pursuing this study, he must acquaint him- self with all that collection of facts and rules, by the application of which the original text of the sacred writings is recovered as far as possible. He must be master of the lan- guages in which they are written ; an ac- quaintance with which should be one of the first, and will continue to be one of the last 19 objects of his attention. He must be, in the most comprehensive sense of the word, a philologist. The meaning of scripture is controverted in every part, and he must therefore be acquainted with the art of inter- preting language, an art, of the very existence of which, many of those who have decided most confidently respecting the sense of the sacred writings, appear to have been an holly ignorant ; and the principles of which have never yet, I think, been fully explained. To this end he must study the nature and con>ti- tution of language, generally, and as it appears in different particular forms in which it has existed. This is a subject which will lead him at once to the most curious and important branches of metaphysical inquiry, and one which is connected with the whole history of the revolutions and development of the human mind, and of the changes and ac- cidents of human opinions and sentiments. In tracing this history, he must learn to mark with a practiced eye, the varying compo- sition, and changeable coloring of human ideas, which are continually forming new combinations of meaning, while the old dis- appear, to be expressed by the same unalter- 20 eel words, while the same language remains in use, or by words apparently correspondent in the languages which may succeed it. Words, as well as coins, change their value with the progress of society.— By studying the character of language, the philologist and theologian will discover its intrinsic ambi- guity and imperfection. He will learn what has been but very imperfectly understood, that words taken alone are often inadequate to convey any one definite meaning ; and that the meaning which the words them- selves leave thus loose and unsettled, is to be fixed and defined by reference to extrinsic considerations. He will therefore perceive that a mere critical knowledge of the lan- guages in which the scriptures are compos- ed, (and the same is true of other writings,) is but the first step towards their explanation. In order to know in any particular instance, what is the true meaning of words, it is often necessary to know under what circumstances and relations they were used in that particular instance. The theologian therefore will pro- ceed to collect and arrange all that immense variety of facts and truths, in connexion with which the language of the scriptures must SI be viewed, in order to perceive its bearing and relations ; and some one or more of which is continually entering as a principal element into all those reasonings by which its sense is determined. With these facts and truths he will make himself familiar. Without previous knowledge of this sort, the words of the scriptures, or of any other ancient writings, will often convey em false ideas and impressions to the mind, as a historical pic- ture might give to one wholly ignorant of the story which forms its subject. I have said that the expositor of scripture must be a philologist in the most extensive sense of the word. But in order to this, he must have the feelings and imagination of a poet. Without these poetry cannot he un- derstood. Its interpreter must have the power of sympathizing with him by A\hom it is composed. The images and emotions of the writer must excite corresponding images and emotions in his own mind. But the Old Testament is full of poetry ; and in the New Testament the oriental and popular style which prevails, often requires no less than poetry itself, an acquaintance with all the uses of language, and with all the forms as in which feeling, passion, and imagination express themselves, in order to distinguish and disengage the mere literal meaning from all those images and ideas, with which it is associated. Bat another part of the business of a theologian is to trace the history of our reli- gion, and its effects upon the condition of so- ciety. In other words, he must be familiar with ecclesiastical history. In this study, one of the most interesting objects of atten- tion will be the origin and progress of those enormous errors, which have cast their shade over the christian world, and intercepted the influence of the gospel. He will discover that many of these errors belong to an earlier age than Christianity itself ; and that their sources are to be found in the superstitions, and still more in the philosophy, which ex- isted before our religion was preached to men. The converts to our faith did not yield up their minds to its reception with an entire renunciation of every former belief and pre- possession. They did not divest themselves of all previous trains of thought and reason- ing, and all previous imaginations and senti- ments. The light which spread over the v>< world was mingled with the darkness which before prevailed ; and God did not, as in the beginning, divide the light from the darkness. Men received much which was true, but they also retained much which was false ; and truth and falsehood grew up together, and constituted the religion which was professed. The past and present errors of Christians are many of them to be traced to a heathen origin, and especially to the heathen philoso- phy. The theologian therefore, who, in study- ing the evidences of our religion, had before been led to consider the previous condition, opinions, and character of mankind, will find himself conducted anew to the same subject by a different route, and brought to view it under a different aspect. The study of an- cient philosophy lies before him. lie must make himself familiar with forms of error, and modes of exhibiting truth, very different from those to which he has been accustomed. He must become, as it were, an inquisitive traveller in a strange country, among men who use a new language; and he will see around him much, of which he cannot at once comprehend the reason, the origin, or the relations. The philosophy of every age has 24 had a powerful influence upon the contem- porary forms of religion professed among Christians. But it is of essential importance to be acquainted with that philosophy, which prevailed when Christianity was first taught ; because this, as I have said, was the parent of manv of those errors which still exist, and which now, made hoary by time, are regarded with a veneration to which they are wholly without title. In the study of ecclesiastical history, in order to estimate justly the facts and charac- ters which it brings before us, a profound and thorough knowledge of human nature is required. And this study may reciprocally teach us more of the human character than perhaps any other. It will show us the best and worst passions operated upon by the strongest motives. It will teach us to think at once more highly and more humbly of man, and discover to us all his strength, all his weakness, and all his inconsistency. It will show us the strange forms in which his virtues may appear, and the infamous disguises which his vices may assume. It will show us the most remarkable and appar- ently the most heterogeneous combinations 25 of moral and intellectual qualities. It will present to us, in every variety, those complex characters which it is so difficult to estimate : because they exhibit the worldly and selfish passions in alliance with religion, and it is hard to determine to what point the latter is debased, or how fir the former may be modified by the connexion ; to what degree self decep- tion may exist, and how far it is to be admit- ted as an excuse ; or how far the errors and vi- ces of the ftge may be pleaded in apology for those of the individual. It will teach us, that even powerful minds m iy be paralyzed by the touch of superstition ; that there is no depth of debasement to which the human understanding* may not be reduced : and that there is nothing so unmeaning, so false, so shocking, or so self contradictory, that it may not be received for divine truth ; as in some ages and countries, animals the most nox- ious and contemptible have been worshipped as deities. But one of the most grateful studies of the theologian is to trace the real influence of the true principles of Cliristianity. He will delight to observe how much they have done to raise the character of man, and to improve 4 26 the condition of society. Going back into past ages, and becoming, as it were, a citizen of Athens or of Rome, making himself famil- iar with all that can be known of their man- ners, morals, religion, and political institu- tions, entering their schools to listen to the teaching of their philosophers, and their temples to observe their rites of worship, he will perceive how much the imagination has often disguised their moral depravity, their ignorance, and their miseries ; and will return to offer up thanks to God in a Chris- tian church, that he was born among Chris- tians. The proper office of religious belief is the formation of character. Our faith teaches us, that we shall be happy or miserable in the future life, as we have done good, or done evil in the present. But what is good ? what is virtue ? These are inquiries which the theologian has to answer. It may be said, perhaps, that as far as regards practice, they are easily settled. When the question is merely, whether some particular action be lawful or not, this, I allow, is easily settled, in the great majority of cases of common oc- currence, by one who will not let his passions 27 triumph over his judgment. But, at the same time, it is not to be forgotten, that different nations, different sects of Christians, and dif- ferent individuals have held opposite opin- ions upon many subjects of morals of no small practical importance* You think relig- ious persecution, a profanation of the name of Christianity, and an outrage upon the first principles of natural justice. But a little more than a century ago, it was thought to be one of the first duties of a Christian commu- nity, and there was not a Christian coimnu- nity in the world by which this duty was neg- lected. I certainly do not mean to question the correctness of the decided opinion and strong feeling, which we all now have upon this subject ; but if any one be in the habit of ascribing a very high value to the authori- ty of the church, it may startle him to recol- lect, that he has the authority of all Christen- dom against him from the fifth century to the end of the seventeenth. The question respecting persecution we may now indeed regard as at rest. But there have been many other mistakes in the Christian world as gross, though not quite as mischievous. Every one acquainted with ecclesiastical his- 28 tory knows, that very erroneous opinions hive prevailed respecting the nature of Chris- turn perfection, or in other words, respecting the nature of moral virtue. They have pre- vailed, and they still exist in a greater or less degree at the* present day. There are too, at the present day, questions of no small practi- cal importance, relating to particular points of morals, which are agitated among us. Some Christians, entitled to much respect for their virtues, deny the right of defensive war. There are, to give another example, some who allow a license in interpreting promises, affirmations, and oaths, which appears to oth- ers in a high degree criminal ; and who main tain, for instance, the lawfulness of professing to believe articles of faith which they do not believe. The nature and extent of the du- ties of active benevolence, of those duties which require something to be done, in con- tradistinction from those which require some- thing to be avoided, are very imperfectly un- derstood. Different men have different notions of right and wrong, and estimate very different- ly the requisitions of duty; and they adopt in consequence very different modes of conduct. As it respects the principles of morals, there is still less agreement than with regard to the practice. There are moralists, who contend that some one particular motive, which they select from all others, is in every case necessary to constitute an action virtuous. There are others, who allow that there are many motives which all partake of the nature of virtue. Those too who admit but one, dif- fer most widely from each other as to the na- ture of this one ; some, for instance. Revolving all virtue into perfect selfishness* and others into perfect benevolence. With different opinions respecting morals, men may prac- tise in a considerable degree alike ; but it would be idle to contend, that their opinions have no influence upon their practice, and none upon their character and happiness* From the inseparable connexion, which I have stated, between theology and moral-, it is the business of the theologian, as well as the moral philospher, to study the principles of the latter science, and to trace out their true bearing upon the conduct of men. He knows but little of the subject, who does not know that these are inquiries, which will try and task the understanding to its utmost strength. Morality is not to be determined 30 by our first impressions ; nor is it a matter of intuitive judgment. We cannot be sure that all which we have been taught concerning it is true. It has been too hastily said that it is a science which admits of no discoveries. Morality is now better understood than in former times, and it will, we may believe, be better understood by our posterity, than it is by us. The ultimate objects of a theologian should be to improve his own character, and the mor- al condition of his fellow men. But in or- der to effect the latter purpose, it is necessa- ry to understand the human character. The complicated machinery of the mind is easily deranged ; and no small mischief has been often produced by the ill directed attempts of the ignorant and violent to regulate and put it in motion. You have undertaken to be a guide to the erring, and an instructer of the ignorant. You have undertaken to lead men in the path of virtue and holiness. Take care that you do not repel. them from it, or lead them astray. It is not so simple a work as you may imagine. A sentence may undo the effect of a sermon. It is the office of a theologian to administer the medicine of the 31 mind ; and in order to do this, he should he acquainted with its general constitution, and the diseases to which it is liable. And how is this necessary knowledge of human nature to he acquired ? In the first place, by distinct- ly perceiving the truth, that it is a kind of knowledge which may and ought to be ac- quired ; that it does not come merely by chance or by intuition. Every one judge* of the characters of those around him : hut how few judge correctly ? In no science is it so necessary, as in the science of human na- ture, for the learner to be first convinced of his ignorance. In order to remove this ig- norance, we must study our own hearts. 'We must be in the habit of analyzing those com- plex aggregates of motives from which we usually act. and of giving to every individu- al motive its true name. We must observe how we ourselves are affected by the actions and words of others, how often the effect pro- duced is different from that intended, and we must remark why it is so. We must study human life as it lies around us, presenting phenomena scarcely less various, and scarce- ly less difficult of explanation, than those of the material world. We must remark the in- S2 lluenee of those circumstances, which oper- ate so powerfully to mould the character in its formation, and to produce those subse- quent changes, which often render it, in ad- vanced life, not less different from what it was in youth, than the countenance itself \ so that like that it retains only something like the outline of its former features. We must ac- quaint ourselves with the principle of associa- tion, that great law of the mind, which it is so important to regulate ; and which, when not controlled from within or without, operates with such blind agency, binding together thoughts and sentiments and feelings in the most mischievous connexion. We must ob- serve how often this law is directed to the production of evil, by the want of considera- tion, or judgment, or temper in those who undertake the business of moral instruction. We must study the volume of human histo- ry with its numberless pages, and learn the nature of man from his past actions and works. W"e must be acquainted with those productions, in which the human character is justly exhibited by the great masters of the art, and in which poetry and eloquence give a vivid expression of human feelings and sen- 34 timcnts. We must study those writings in which a ruild philosophy has shed a steady illumination upon the mind and heart of man : and those also, in which, as in the histories of Tacitus, flashes are, every now and then, breaking forth, which send light into the re- cesses where the passions hide themselves. I touch rapidly upon some of the more prom- inent objects of attention, and leave others without notice. But the knowledge of human nature is a science ; and if in this, as in other branches of knowledge, some have a natural aptitude for its acquisition more than others. yet our acquirements will depend much upon our exertions. It is a science too, which, though the fact does not seem to have been generally observed, has shared with every other in the progress of improvement. Our knowledge of all those principles and motives, which affect and influence the mind and heart of man, is more extensive and correct than the knowledge of those who have preceded us. To complete the character of a perfect theologian, and to qualify one for those duties to which among us a theologian is commonly called, he must be an eloquent writer and 34 speaker. Knowledge of human nature is the foundation of eloquence, but it is not the only requisite to its attainment. To write or speak so as powerfully to affect others, one must study those arts by which the mind is disci- plined to attain this object, arts not of arbi- trary invention, as some have imagined, but founded deep in the essential principles of human nature. The clear perception of truth will not alone give us power to exhibit it dis- tinctly. To feel strongly ourselves is not the only thing required to enable us to produce strong sympathy in others. But on these topics I forbear to dwell. He who would understand what force and what effort of mind are necessary to consummate eloquence, may study those works, in which the great Roman orator has at once celebrated and exemplified the art of which he was master. It remains to consider what preparatory studies are required in the attainment of the- ological knowledge. A theologian must be familiar with the ancient languages. But this is not all. As it respects the modern lan- guages, we must not confine ourselves to the sources of information which may be found in our own. There are manv works of much 35 value to a theologian in the French and Ger- man. In Germany, for the last forty or fifty years, the science of theology lias been more cultivated than in any other country ; though certainly not altogether with the happiest re- sults. Nobody, I trust, will imagine, that I admire the licentious, and, as it seems to me, the most extravagant and untenable specula- tions of some of the modern German theolo- gians. In reading their works, I find what I cannot but regard as theories and arguments of impalpable inanity ; I seem, like JEpeai when entering the confines of the dead, to be passing through a region of monstrous shad- ows, and to be, like him, pursuing a journey, Quale per incertam Lunam, sub luce maligna, Kst iter in svlvis. Some of these theologians, who have attained a certain degree of celebrity out of their own country, are, I think, little entitled to any kind of respect. To others of them, I should be disposed to apply the character which Thirlbv, in the celebrated dedication of his edition of Justin Martyr, gives of Isaac Vossius, a char- acter which could not be more descriptive of any individual, than it is of a class of writers. " He had great learning, superior genius, and 36 judgment too, which, if not very great, was enough and more than enough for one, who, unless I am entirely deceived, cared but little about discovering the truth upon any subject. He made it his object to seek for and invent new, out of the way, and wonder- ful opinions in criticism, in philosophy, and in theology. Whether they were true or not, he left to be examined by those who might think themselves interested in the matter."* But this character is far from being applicable to the whole body of modern German theolo- gians. There are many who are not entitled to the praise ; and some who are not obnox- ious to the censure. Some have executed laborious works of great value ; and others have written with much sobriety and good sense, as well as learning and ingenuity. As it respects the mass of those works, with * " Erant in eo homine multse literse, ingenium excellens, judicium etiam, si non maximum, at tantum quantum ei satis superque fuit, qui, nisi omnia me fallunt, quid in quavis re verum esset, leviter curavit perspicere. Satis habuit nova, devia, mirabilia, in critica, in philosophia, in theolo- gia, quserere et excogitare : vera anne falsa essent, id vera aiiis exquirendum reliquit, qui sua istuc interesse exists marent."' 37 which we can become acquainted only through a knowledge of the German language, their value, without doubt, has been by some con- siderably overrated; nor would it be safe to recommend the indiscriminate study of them to one apt to estimate the truth of opinions by their novelty. But still the value of many of these works is such, as to render a knowl- edge of the language very desirable to the theological student, and necessary to a con- summate theologian. In enumerating the intellectual qualifica- tions necessary, 1 have perhaps coin i need you. that it is impossible to be a theologian. In the highest and most comprehensive Bense of the word, I do not know but it ma\ be so. I shall have done some service, ii I have con- vinced you, that it is no eas\ thing to acquire those qualifications, which a theologian, in the more popular sense of the word, may be fairly expected to possess. More, a great deal more, is necessary than a familiar ac- quaintance with some system of technical divinity, and with the arguments by which this is usually defended. Much more is re- quired than that knowledge which a man may collect from reading a few books in our 38 own language, and those perhaps the books of a particular sect. Much more than a fa- miliarity with those metaphysical quibbles, which show how much morbid ingenuity may remain, while common sense is entirely prostrated ; and which, at the same time, like words of magic, darken the whole creation of God to those by whom they are pronounced. Much more than to be able to quote a mass of texts indiscriminately from different books of the Bible, and to interpret them conform- ably to the use of words in that theological dialect, which we may have learnt in child- hood. And much more is required than a facility in running through all those errors, which our church, or our party, may have faithfully preserved, since the time when the science, of which I speak, lay in a state of the lowest debasement. True theology has little to do with any of these acquirements. It is a science of vast extent and dignity, embrac- ing all the knowledge which directly or re- motely concerns man as an immortal being. We believe, indeed, and we regard it as the glory of the science, that its most important truths, and the main arguments by which these are defended, may be made intelligible 39 to all; that in its last results it coincides with the first judgments of unprejudiced reason; and that the man of plain good sense, who exercises his understanding, and thinks for himself, and the profound and intelligent scholar, will find that there are no essential points of difference in their opinions. We may all arrive at last upon common ground, where the highest and humblest may meet together. But if any one refuse to submit to the decis- ions of our natural reason, and the dictates of our natural feelings; if he come to us, teaching what lie calls incomprehensible prop- ositions, and truths above reason; if he main- tain doctrines abhorrent to all our best senti- ments respecting God and his moral govern- ment ; and if lie require us to believe the sys- tem which he has received ; we have a right to require of him in return, what are his qualifications to discuss these subjects ? How extensively has he examined, how profoundly has he thought upon their nature and relations? How thoroughly has he acquired all that pre- paratory knowledge, which is necessary in their investigation ? What is the compass of his studies, and what the reach of his faculties, that he thinks his judgments of so much 40 value, and his censures of so much authority? lias lie in fact gone through that long course of discipline, necessary to enable him to decide questions of science and criticism, as they arise in the study of theology ? We shall find, in many cases, that our new teacher is just as well qualified for the wort which he has undertaken, as one with or without a little elementary knowledge of mathematics, would be qualified to decide on the truth of the dem- onstrations of Newton or La Place. Is theolo- gy, the most profound and extensive of scien- ces, the only one in which ignorant presump- tion may be allowed to dogmatize ? It has indeed done this, and it has done much more. It has oppressed and persecuted. Hence it is that the progress of truth has been so slow and embarrassed. The operation of vulgar pre- judices and passions has restrained the intel- lect of the wisest, and checked the courage of the boldest ; and the science has in conse- quence not yet attained that rank and esti- mation which belong to it. It has been de- graded by the irruptions of ignorance and barbarism ; its provinces have been seized upon, and the rightful possessors of the soil driven awav. 41 I shall then have effected something, if 1 have given you any just views of the impor- tance and dignity of this science. It is in truth the highest philosophy, including every thing most interesting in speculation and practice. In proportion as it is better under- stood, and tauglit, the minds of men will be more enlightened, and their moral principles and feelings elevated and improved. And it will be better understood and taught. The obstacles which have opposed its progress are continually giving way. The human under- standing will not much longer submit to such reasoning on the subjects of theology, as on every other subject it has learned to treat with contempt. The prejudice, before which the world bowed but yesterday, * ill tomorrow find none so poor to do it reverence* Let us consider how much the cause of true reli- gion, and virtue, and happiness, for they are all inseparably connected, has been advaneed even during the two la>t centuries. Let us consider how much may be gained in the ; to come, if we are but faithful to our posteri- ty, and they are but faithful to themselves. It is but two centuries since Grotius lived : 6 since the time when he was struggling against ignorance, and persecution, and oppositions of science falsely so called, to guide his con- temporaries in the way to truth. His con- temporaries, in return, attempted to confine and extinguish within the walls of a prison, that light which was to spread itself through the world. They drove him from his native land ; and when the shades of death were about to close upon him, he might have look- ed round and seen not a single country free from the oppression of ecclesiastical tyranny; and only one in which any religion unmixed with the grossest error enjoyed even a doubtful toleration; only one where a few harassed individuals had found a temporary refuge, from which they were just about to be driven. — What deep and holy joy would have filled the mind of this great man, if a prophetic vision could have been accorded to him of what we now behold around us ; if amid his labors, and disappointments, and sufferings, he could have been assured, that he had not labored nor suffered in vain ; if he could have foreseen that in this country, — which was then just appearing within the 48 political horizon, but which even then had attracted his attention, and been one object of his extensive studies, — a vast empire was to be established, throughout which the princi- ples of religious liberty should be fully recog- nized, and in which such a large portion of the community should understand so well the real character, and feel so powerfully the true influence of our religion. But there is a promise of fairer and happier days to the whole civilized world. The light of Chris- tianity has been obscured, and men have been travelling in darkness. But the thick vapours which concealed earth and heaven are break- ing away; and we begin to perceive the beautiful prospect which lies before us, and the glittering of spires and pinnacles in the distance. In enumerating the intellectual acquisi- tions necessary to constitute a consummate theologian, I have felt some apprehension, like that which Cicero expresses, when about to speak of those requisite in an orator: "Yercor ne tardem studia multorum, qui desperatione debilitati, experiri nolint, quod se assequi posse dtfTidant.'' In respect to this, 44 however, I may say as he does : "Sed par est omnes omnia experiri, qui res magnas,et mag- no opere expetendas, concupiverunt. Quod si quein aut natura sua, aut ilia prsestantis ingenii vis forte deficiet, aut minus instruetus erit magnarum artium disciplinis ; teneat ta- men eum cursum, quem poterit. Prima enim sequentem, honestum est in secundis, tertiis- que consistere." All the knowledge which the theological student acquires will be valu- able. Whatever faculties he cultivates maybe turned to account. It would be a poor rea- son to neglect to do any thino* because there © * ©■ is so much which may be done to advantage. It is to our clergy that we must look for a body of learned theologians. It is through them principally, that the benefits of this science are to be derived to the community. But in order that they may become qualified for their office, the means of education must be afforded them ; and leisure must be afford- ed them to pursue their studies, when the work of education is finished. The standard of preaching is very high with us ; and it certainly is not desirable that it should be lowered. But this being the case, the mere 45 weekly round of a clergyman's labors has been found in some situations too severe, and even destructive of health and life. We have witnessed the terrible spectacle of men of the finest genius perishing under the slow torture of unremitted mental exertion. Something has been done to prevent the recurrence of this awful calamity ; and means might be easily devised — but it is not here the place to point them out — to lessen that pressure of duties which is still too great. It is with the- ology, as with every other department of knowledge and literature ; if we would have them flourish among us, we must show that we are able to estimate their value, and the worth of those services which are devoted to their cultivation. We must not be slowly ivise, nor meanly just. In conferring public rewards, there is nothing more opposite to true wisdom, than a calculating spirit of parsimo- ny. Our literary men have been pursuing their labors under peculiar disadvantages ; and we must be ready to afford every facility and every encouragement to their exertions ; to extend a steady patronage to our literary institutions, to increase our public libraries. 46 and to enlarge all our means of knowledge. We must be generous, and considerate, and kind ; ready to praise and approve where praise and approbation are merited ; liberal in our rewards, and reasonable in our de- mands. If we would not have our country, with all its immeasurable resources, become a sort of barbaric empire : if we would not have a half- civilized population spread over our soil, ig- norant of all which adorns, and ennobles, and purifies the character of man ; if we would not be overrun with every form of fanaticism and folly ; if we desire that our intellectual and moral rank should keep pace with our un- ceasing enlargement as a nation ; if we de- sire that just notions of religion, and correct principles of duty should manifest their in- fluence, and convey their blessings through the community ; if we love our native land, and rejoice in its honor, and should be hum- bled in its degradation ; we must recollect that good and evil are before us, and that it is for us to choose which we will ; but that the one is not to be avoided, nor the other se- cured, by accident. What we may becorffe 47 N will depend upon ourselves ; not upon what we may wish, but upon what we may do. The character of its intellectual men gives its character to a nation. That literature which is without morals and without Christian faith, like the literature of France during the age of Voltaire, is one of the worst evils to which God in his anger ever abandons a people. That literature which throughout regards men as his creatures and as immortal beings. is one of the greatest blessings which he ever confers. As for those who are engaged in the studies of which I have been speaking, they have motives enough, in whatever situa- tion they may be, to call forth all their efforts. But in our country, where so much is at stake ; where the last experiment seems to be making, to determine what man may be- come, when placed in the most favorable circumstances ; where every thing is in a forming state, and so much depends upon the impressions now received, and the direc- tion now given, the motives of which I speak, acquire an overwhelming force. What must be the responsibility of those who are en- gaged in studies, which have so direct an in- 48 fluence upon the character and condition of men ! And what consciousness of desert can be more honorable or more animating than his, who feels that he is directing all his efforts, that he is devoting the whole ener- gy of his mind, that he is pouring himself out like water, to swell the tide, which is to bear his country on to happiness and glory ! t^jf& M. The Mystery of Christ. SERMON DELIVERED IN THE CITY OF WASHINGTON, October 7, 1821. CATION BY THE REV. ANTHONY KOHLMANN ; The First Number of which professes to contain A COMPLETE REFUTATION OF THE FUNDAMENTAL PRINCIPLES OF UNITARIANISM. By ROBERT LITTLE. WASHINGTON: PRINTED AND SOLD BY W. COOPER, SOLD ALSO BY P. THOMPSON, & BY F. LUCAS, BALTIMORE. 1821. PREFACE. The following discourse was not composed with a view to publication; hut having intentionally a bearing on the late attack upon the system of Unitarianisni by Mr. Kohl- mann 9 and also upon the violent unchristian-like abuse heaped on its every Sunday from certain pulpits in this neighbour- hood ; the congregation to whom it was addressed solicited it to be printed. We have no complaint against Mr. K.. or other*, for dis- cussing and attempting to refute our opinions. We wish to have »hein discussed; we have no objectioji to be refuted, if our opponents are able to do so. Bui we would have them defer announcing their triumph till they are rare of it There Was good advice riven to an ancient king, which it may he advantageous to them to recollect, »< let not him that girdeth on his harness boast himself as he that putteth it <»tV." The full examination of Mr. t's hook, will doubtlec undertaken in due time: and probably the Unitarian Miscel- lany will be the vehicle of his answer. In the present Ser- mon and Notes, only Ins un scriptural notion about religion* mysteries is the object of notice. Hut as this is an error of fundamental importance to the whole Trinitarian scheme, whether adopted by Catholics or Protestants, it is desirable to call their attention to what the New-Testament teaches on this subject. Or whether they will attend impartially to this inquiry or not, we earnestly wish that Unitarians may have a scriptural and consistent view of it. A SERMON, Kphesians ill. I. The .Mystery of Chi it. Biblical critics have entertained doubts concerning the accuracy of (lie inscription of this epistle, a> it stands in our received versions, and indeed in all the modern Greek copies. For certainly there is something in it scarcely com- patible with the opinion of its being originally addressed to the Ephesians. We know that Paul spent three years at and in the neighbourhood of Ephesus, planting the Gospel there, and with very distinguished success. It appears that he was personally intimate with the principal disciples in that city, and had much private and confidential intercourse with them. In addressing the elders of the Kphesian church, whom he sent for to meet him at Miletus, on his journey to Jerusalem, he said " Ye know from the first day that I came into Asia, after what manner I have been with you at all seasons, serving the Lord with all humility of mind and how I kept back nothing that was profitable unto you, but have showed y r ou, and have taught you publicly, and from house to house." " Watch, and remember that by the space of three years, I ceased not to warn every one, night and clay, with tears." Acts xx. 18, 19, 20, 31. Now how are these facts to be reconciled with what is said in the con- nexion of our text ? " If ye have heard of the dispensation of the grace of God which is given me to you -ward." " How 6 thai by row.iation lie made known unto me the mystery, as. I wrote afore in a few words; whereby when ye read, ye may understand my knowledge in the mystery of Christ."* ^'as if possible that the Ephesians needed to be informed of t ; is, or could they be strangers to Paul's pretensions and minis- try ? This surely appears very like addressing persons with whom he had no personal intimacy. To solve this difficulty, it has been remarked, that one very ancient manus#ipt, and several early copies of this epistle, have not the word Ephesus in ch. 1, v. I. By some earlv writers it was called the epistle to the Laodiceans, and we know from Coloss. iv. 16. that Paul did write a letter to Laodicea, which, if this be not the same, is not now extant. " When this epistle is read amon£ you, cause that it be read also in the church of the Laodiceans ; and that ye likewise read the epistle from Laodicea." If it be so, I think the present inscription may be accounted for: for as the Colos- sians were to send their epistle to Laodicea, and Paul's let- ter to the Laodiceans was to be sent to Colosse, making them both a sort of circular to those churches, and perhaps to the other churches in lesser Asia, we may reasonably infer that the Laodicean epistle would in its turn be sent to Ephesus, which was the next great city to Colosse, on the shore of the Agean sea. Here the original writing might remain, and as the Laodiceans very early became lukewarmf and depart- ed from the faith, the name of the church that retained it might become permanently attached to it. These remarks may appear to some unimportant, but they show that this epistle may have been written by Paul — may have gone cir- cuitously to Ephesus without being originally addressed to that church — and consequently the passage connected with our text may be perfectly consistent with the history of Paul's labours in planting the gospel there. These conclu- sions are of use to those who revere the apostolical writings, and who are anxious to ascertain and settle every thing that * Ephes. iii. 2, 3, 4. f Rev. iii. 14—16. pertains to their authenticity and genuineness.* Patient. lid, an free e an ination, will in many ca-es remove or lessen those difficulties and discrepancies, which, to persons unreasonably sceptical, may appear insuperable. Let us now proceed to consider the words of the text. \Ve shall enquire I. What Paul intended by — the Mystery of Christ. II. AYhy he gave this subject the appellation, Mystery* Some general inferences from the whole will close the discourse. What did Paul intend by the mystery sf Christ . : It i- curious to observe hov much our thoughts on religious to] arc governed and led by the prepossessions of education : and lmw the ideas we early associated with certain phra seo logy, will rise and recur by the mere Bounds that have for- merly excited them, without respect to the obvious sense <>i the passages in which such phrases occur. Thus, upon the first reading these words, "tin- mystery of Christ*" a good orthodo] christian would naturally expect that Paul was about to discourse upon the sublime and mysterious union of the divine and human natures in his one Person — or perhaps, the ineffable mysterv of his eternal Bonship and essential union with the Father — or the mystery Of his holv incarna- tion — or his beiny; our substitute and representative, bearing our sins, and transfering to us his rigkrteousne* — or the mysterv of his union with the church, so that they form one mystical body, and truly partake of his fesl and blood. These, and some other points connected with them, are now considered so essential to the scheme of redemption, that a sermon without these prominent features i- thou It to con- tain nothing of Christianity. How very extraordinary it must * S ' more on this subject in Paley's Horx Paulinae, Article Epistle to the Ephesians, No. IV. 8 WBm to such persons, that the "mystery of Christ?' men- tioned by Paul in our text, does not contain, nor even allude to, anv one of these subjects. Because we affirm and attempt to prove, that the christian world has been mistaken as to the origin of these doctrines, which now pass current for evan- gelical truth, and that they did not constitute the gospel as it was first delivered by the apostles, we are assailed from almost every pulpit, on every Sabbath, with the overflowings of illiberality, bigotry, and ignorance. We are denounced as the enemies of God and religion, as out of the pale of sal- vation, and unworthy of the slightest expression of christian charity. With the most pious indifference about the ever- lasting agonies which they proclaim as our inevitable portion, the Methodist, the Presbyterian, the Episcopalian, and the Catholic, forget awhile the bitter differences that subsist among themselves, and unite to prognosticate, and hope for, our damnation ! But why is all this alarm ? Why this strong effervescence of the odium theologicum ? May one be permitted to ask of these terrified religionists, what is it that has aroused you thus ? * Has the stone, cut out without hands, smitten the colos- sal image which your fathers set up, so that you fear it will not be able to stand ? Alas ! your fears are greater than our hopes. We did not apprehend that the slender perceptions of truth to which we had attained, and which we are enabled so im- perfectly to communicate, would have produced such effects as these. Yet, whatever you may feel or fear, we entreat you, be not rancorous, abusive, or profane. We cannot con- tend with you thus. Make not too free with Jove's thunder. That is a dangerous weapon, too heavy for mortal hands to wield. If you will confine yourselves to calm reasoning, or * « A stone was cut out without hands, which smote the image upon his feet —Then was the Iron, the Clay, the Brass, the Silver and the Gold broken to pieces together, and became like the chaff of the summer threshing floors ; and the wind carried them away, that no place was found for them ." Dan. ii. 34, 35. 9 dispassionate appeals to scripture, we will meet yon there. But mere assertion, wordy declamation, and vi -per- sion d as nothing — worse than r. i are confessions of weakness. These sh;: : are pointless : tlicv are thrown too by an unsteady hi indistinct vision, and reach not their ma s no objection to the a v: if we speak not according to light in u .** To return to ( We <>V cl early and fully explains i ■ not made known unto I unto hi^ holy apostles and proptv made knou n ? Why •• that the heirs, and of the same body, and pai "ho- mise in crhi8T hv the gospel.* 1 previously asserted in the comment M haying made know n unto us t 1 ,.* cording to his good pleasure, which he •H* : that in the dispensation of I •. he mighl gather together in one all i name of Christ here, we are perhaps i ot to understand him- m ally, but the christian schem founder and head. Many p require this mode of interpretation to rthe wrtters perspicuous. One example it "In ( Jesus. n the christian religion,*] neither circumci avail eth any thing, nor uncircumcision,but a nev. cr< The - therefore of the nil - Paul, was this; that in the christian age or dispensation, persons of every country and of all the various conditio;- in society, should be united in one profession, and be mule partakers of the divine favour through a virtuous life, with- out beiiig enslaved to any system of ceremonial religion. * Ver. 5, G. + Ch. i. 9, 10. J GaQatians, ri. 15. 10 ! the importance of this discovery, ft is ne- cesftan to remember that the whole world was previously lc into two classes. Idolaters and Jews. The latter mnced the former as dogs and reprobates, and believed their salvation was impossible unless they were converted to Mosey, and submitted to the rites and ceremonies enjoined by the law. This persuasion prevailed for a longtime among tiie Hebrew christians, and occasioned much trouble and dis- sension among the iisst believers of the gospel. The fif- teenth chapter of the Acts is a satisfactory exposition of the state of their minds on this subject. It seems to have re- quired the interposition of heaven to set Peter himself right upon this matter, and to overcome his Jewish prejudices. "When Cornelius the pious Roman captain sent for him, his language was " Ye know how that it is an unlawful thing for a man that is a Jew to keep company or to come unto one of another nation; but God hath showed me that I should not call any man common or unclean." And when he was further convinced of the piety and acceptance of this devout gentile, he exclaimed, "Of a truth I perceive that God is no respecter of persons: but in every nation he that fearetb him, and worketh righteousnesses accepted with him."* Nearly all the epistles show that a perpetual contest upon the neces- sity and obligation of observing certain days, seasons, and ceremonies, agitated the early churches ; and frequently gave occasion for the rough remonstrance, " Who art thou that judgest another man's servant? To his own master he stand- eth or falleth: yea, lie shall be holden up; for God is able to make him stand." f Paul considered himself as « the apostle of the Gentiles,*' being specially appointed to the work of converting them to the christian faith, and proclaiming their perfect freedom from all obligation to the Mosaic law. The doctrine which he most firmly and < ourageously preached in all places was. that Jesus Christ v. as the centre of union between Jews and * Acts, x, 28, 34, 35. + R om . xiv. 4. 11 Gentiles, that he was the appointed head of a new dispensa- tion of religion, in which men of all nations sho iiu be uni- ted as worshippers of the one common Father of all, on a footing of perfect equality as brethren. Nothing hut faith in Jesus as the Son of God, a divinely commissioned messenger to men, was necessarv to put. them into the possession of all the privileges and enjoyments of Christianity : therefore, who- ever added any other conditions of disciplesliip. were impo- sing a yoke upon their necks, which even their fathers had not been able to bear. Lastly, Paul taught, that this cordial reception of the gospel, acco npanied with works suitable to the faith professed, would insure the final felicity of the Gen- tile as well as the Jew. whatever disregard of outward ritual observances he might 'je charged with. Such, according to Paul, is the mystery of Christ. But II. Why does he call this a mystery ? li is surely in- telligible enough. There is nothing dark, barbarous, con- cealed, or incomprehensible in this. Certainty not Bot then the accepted Bense of the word mystery in scripture, is very different Iron what is implied in it in the vocabulary of the apostate church. Mystery in the scriptures sign something hidden* not incomprehensible. It i> something either not yet known, or that formerly was not Ltioicn. nut never that which cannot be known. Mystery in modern theology signifies what is unintelligible and incomprehensi- ble, and which is vet an article of faith. It i* the convenient cloke for ignorance, and a mask for spiritual usurpation. It is only among theologians that the word has ever acquired such a sense. Many mechanical arts are technically styled mysteries, not because they are incomprehensible, for then it would be useless that the master should engage to teach his apprentice the mystery of his trade ; but in such cases the word is used in the verv same sense as it is in scripture, to denote something that has been secret, but shall be made known or explained. Mystery and revelation are indeed 12 opposed to each other, and correctly speaking, that which is lied is do Longer a mystery. But our scholastic divines have presented us with the mystery of the holy Trinity — the mystery of the Incarnation — the mystery of the Atonement — and that most sublime of all mysteries, Tranaubstantiation, or the conversion of common bread and wine into the very body and blood of Christ, by tiie prayers of the priest. We ask their authority for all this. We look, through the New-Testament and can see no- thing of it there. It can be traced no higher than to the in- .ence of busy, officious, intermeddling men, wise in their own conceit, and defacing, as the apostle truly said, by a vain and false philosophy, the pure and simple system of primitive Christianity. The reason alleged by Paul himself, for calling the doctrine of the universal spread and efficacy of Christianity, a mystery, is simple and satisfactory, •• in other ages it w as not made known unto the sons of men.*' Ver. 5. Reason, indeed, revolted from the appalling idea that the Father of mercies would for ever leave the great mass of his rational offspring on earth, the slaves of idolatry and the delusions connected with it; but how and when the veil that was spread over ali nations would be taken away, and the partition wall be broken down, no man knew. " Many prophets and kings,** said Jesus to his disciples, " have desired to see those things which ye see, and have not seen them 5 and to hear those things which ye hear, and have not heard them.'"* The apostle seems also, occasionally at least, to have had allusion, when writing to the Gentile churches, to the Eleusinian and other mysteries, held in such esteem among the Greeks. The heathens had a two-fold form of their reli- gion. One was the plain popular notion of the various gods they worshipped, and the public sacrifices and prayers by * Luke, x. 24. 13 which they were to be invoked or propitiated. But they had a higher and secret form of instruction communicated only to a few, arid those chiefly philosophers and eminent men. who were solemnly sworn to profound silence on the sub- - communicated to them at their initiation. The initi- ated gloried exceedingly in being instructed in the mj ries. and treated those who were ignorant of them as vulgar and profane. Now Paul, ji:- lerfngthe instruct] of the gospel as infinil ior to all the knowledgi the heathen philosopher* - of their religion $ imes the phrase, and applies it to the more sublime topics of his own ministry. •• We speak wisdom am them that are | jdom of this world, nor of the princes of this world, that conn* to nought, bui we speak the wisdom of God in a e hidden wisdom which lained before the world onto our { rj •:*'* i, e. which G ! determined t«> communicate to the world by our ministry. Bo also he - the chun whom this letter was written, to \>:>\\ for him, that he might iuth boldly to make known the nr the gospel."t then you observe his t oncealed doctrine, or one restricted to a chosen few who were the depositaries of the grand secret; but the whole was proclaimed to the worTd, loudly, intelligibly, universally. The mysteries of the heathen would not bear the light of day \ to expose them to examination would have been their destruction. The doctrine of Christ was to be proclaimed on the house top> : it forbids concealment, its publicity is its true glory, it is adapted and intended for all mankind. Whoever under- stands it aright will say with Paul. i; I am not ashamed of the gospel of Christ, for it is the power of God to salvation, to every one that believeth, to the Jew first, and also to the Gentile."! * 1 Cor. ii. 6, 7. f £ph. vi. 19. $ Rom. i, 16. 14 Our inferences from this subject are I. That mysterious doctrines and ceremonies are no parts of . genuine Christianity. I use the word mysterious here in \(* common popular sense, as signifying what is obscure, un- intelligible, or inexplicable. We are described by our op- ponents as wishing to expunge all mysteries from the code of Christianity.* So far from it, we do not believe that there * A Complete Refutation of the Leading Principles of the Unitarian System, by the Rev. Anthony Kohlmann, Superior of the Cat.rolic Scminray at Washington City. Whatever is my opinion of the theo- logy or logic of this gentleman's performance, ot which only two iiura era are yet published, I wish to t&iie this opportunity of saying that the ; e is an apparent good temper and candour, in general, in his ■work which some Protestant teachers would do well to imitate. His observations are usually in a courr.eous and respectful style, mostly free from acrimony and vulga illiberality. I rejoice that Catholic- ae beginning to eason and discuss the differences between us ; it cannot but lead to ^ood. On the subject of mystery, however, Mr. K. seems not to under- stand us, and 1 am afraid he is hardly willing to understand us. He ■will insist upon it, page 16, note, that Unitarians have one common principle with the infidel writers, viz. That what is above reason, is against rea on. And what is scarcely consistent with the can jui I 4 ave allowed him in general, he says, that, let Mr. Sparks, as he has done, in his Sixth Letter to Dr Wyatt, disclaim the adoption of this maisim as Ion a as he please, he will neither admit that he no his othe. Unita- rian friends have any other basis for their system. I need not answer fo' Mr Sparks. But I would ask, what can we poor Unitarians do, if our own voluntary and explicit statement of what we do or do not believe, is not to be credited ? Are we to go before a magistrate and make oath to our creed? Surely Mr. K. wi:l retract this. ! can only speak for myself; and I solemnly declare that so far from holdin ; the above maxim, 1 believe it to be most foolish and false : and as fa; as I know, all Unitarians do the same Mr K further says that when the Unitarians examine the mysteries of religion, " instead of inquiring idto the motives of extrinsic credibility, as reason directs when we set about to ascertain divine revelation ; or instead of inquiring, whether God has actually revealed them or not, thev on the contrary follow a method quite the reverse : their first and only cave being, not to exa- mine whether God has actually revealed them, and whether of course?, 15 are any such to expunge from the religion of the New-Tes- tament. There are certain truths and facts recorded there, that we cannot explain or account for on common principles, as, for instance, the resurrection of the dead : but when \w* admit the interposition of divine power to effect this or an v other miracle, all mystery ceases. " Is any tiling too hard tl'e\ arc to be believed without farther ado; but to examine into the jut insic nature oi the mysteries, in oide to discovei whethe they be (oi)'. ant with the natural ideaa oi reason 6cc. flic." Mi. K. not I ave written this had be not I l mieinfoi incd, or Laboured undei a lamentable misundei Unitarian write J will oppof e to tl.i- the language of the most em in ent Kn_li-h Unitai iau uf the \i eaent d i] \\> I may l)e allowed to feel somewhat proud. '• I Dtta tai . they hake nothing upon Unfit It in tl principle Cant etf kk rf ('!'■■ i. in be befit ved, ami thai ai w is to be done. L folli Wl that too much a; entktD i .inn. to.) much pain- can- not be taken, to bea< in From the traditions of men." Peltham'i letters to i oj l-ondm 1 v. ill oppose to Mi i hi, a more decided n over- hi I refutation than this It is the Fact, that Units ien ch iatians u mly ■ in the [lesui e tion of Chiist, and in t'.e final earn ection oi" ill ie dead Now they do eo, not bo on eonld djacoeei thii plain in wha mannei a human being after death and decomposition can be b < ugbt back to li e and conaciouanea*. It not appeal indeed to them unreaaonabl Libia that God should rai: e the dead But it it had not • ecu made known in t ic would have known and believed not ing about it. ThercJii reetioa oi" toe dead is a doctrine beyond the reach oi sajea ; hut the I mta tan belie vea it, because it appears to bim confinne aa a rovelnion man heaven. Mr, K does not know us Let him prodnce aa aetieCactory uce of the doctrine of the trinity — the incarnation — transubaiun- feiation and thereat, as we have loi the reaurrection of the dead, and i shall e eaget to be the first to renounce L'nitaiianism, and 1 shall not be alone. I am unwilling to extend this note much further, but after what 1 ha\e said above, and comparing with it what Mr. K. saya in page 13, I am not without hope thai we -hall bring him over to our side. He ha stated what he conceive- to be Unitarian principle- in the form of aerllogism. We are not fond of syllogisms; we have seen so much fake logic and nonsense i mposed on the world in this manner. How> 16 for the Lord ?" There is indeed one text which, as it stands in our received copies of the scriptures, has an appearance of favouring the popular notion of a mystical religion. But a critical examination of it dispels the illusion. 1 Tim.iii. 16. « Without controversy great is the mystery of godliness, God was manifest in the flesh, justified in the spirit, &c." ever, we are an easy sort of people, and are willing that others should arrange their thoughts just as they please, provided they do it fairly and honestly. Mr K assumes the Unitarian major to be — "The sci iptu; es must have every where a consistent and intelligible mean- ing." He adds, " If this majo' proposition be correct, Unitarianism triumphs : if false and groundless, Unitarianism must needs be crushed under its ruins." I thought when I read this that he was prepa ed to prove the falsehood of the proposition. But to my utter surprise he goes on to say, « if by the position— nothing more is meant, than, that God in the scriptures is to speak to men after such a manner, and in such language, a> to make them sufficiently understand what he ha. re- vealed, and what they are to believe, without however giving them a right to dive into the intrinsic nature of the revelation ; after the same manner as a servant has a right to know clearly the commands of his master as otherwise he could not comply with them) without having a right to know the reasons which his master may have to impose them on him ; if I say no more is meant ;han this, the Unitarian will speak plain good sense, and the whole world will agree with him : for it is obvious, that unless men have some idea of what God reveals, they cannot be bound to believe it " Here, then, the controversy may end. For I declare with the utmost sincerity, that I desi e to under- stand nothing more by " a consistent and intelligible meaning of reve- lation." I cannot answer for others ; but as far as I know, I believe Unitarians mean nothing more when they contend for consistency and intelligibility. The major proposition therefore being correct, and all the world agreeing with us, in the reasonableness of our opinion, Mr. K. assures us that <• Unitarianism triumphs '." And he who set out armed with philosophy and logic to refute our very fundamental prin- ciples, has yielded the palm of victory to us, and acknowledged that we are ii refutable ! ! The syllogism, however, ought to stand thus : Major. The scriptures must have a consistent and intelligible meaning. Minor. But they no where intelligibly teach the doctrine of the Trinity, &c. &c. Conclusion. Therefore these doctrines are not to be believed. 17 Greshach. a"' 1 other eminent sc 1 . have satisfactorily ^ho n h the true reading of this passage is "he \ ' o - as d anifeste • i-.iheflesh." Greek os instead of ©tor. God This reading ^upporte:l by the Alexandrine, and Ephrem MSS. both of which are of the most ancient class of manuscripts, and of the highest authority. The alteration of only two Greek letters has changed the reading to God, and given the text all its importance in the Trinitarian controversy. And this alteration was not made \cn early, for " all the old versions" says Dr. Clarke. •• have who or which. And all the ancient fathers, though the copies of many of them have it now in the te\t itself (&tos) God : yet from the tenor of their comments on it. and from their never citing it i Arian controversy, it appears ttiej always read it (©*) who or Co) which." The apostle in this p emstobe allud- ing to the boasted mj Bteries of the learned Greeks, and extol- ling the gospel <> I ("In ist For its infinite superiority* and glory- ing in its success. It may he read and paraphrased thus: •• greal is the mystery of godliness, 91 we christiana have reasoi glory in our profession, lor -he who was manifested in the flesh," our master, who was a real human being and not a mere phantom as the docetfe taught, ootwithstanding all the weakness and infirmity of mortality, was "justified by the spirit:" his divine mission was attested by miraculous proofs; he was " seen by hia messengers" tin- apostles, whom he chose and to whom he personally communicated the doctrine which they '• preached to the Gentiles;" this heavenly instruction has been "believed in the world," ami has obtained and is still obtaining "a glorious reception." How plain and in- telligible is this ! Every thing taught by the apostles, and every thing transacted by them in the churches, hail a plain- ness and significant^, that commended itself to the under- standings and consciences of men. But there soon arose a race of teachers who were fond of representing the doctrines and ordinances of Christianity as profound mi/steries. Es- pecially, the Lord's Supper was invested with peculiar sane- 3 18 fcity. They divided the disciples into classes according to their imagined rank or standing in the church; they were chumens, initiated, penitents, &c. Chrysostom in one of his homilies says " We shut the doors when we celebrate our mysteries, and exclude the uninitiated." In some of the churches, during ihe second and third centuries, before the ►ration of the Eucharist, the deacons used to cry out in the congregation < ; Go out all you catechumens. Walk out all that are not initiated." This was a very exact imitation of the heathen practice in celebrating their mysteries.* As these measures conferred a venerable and mysterious solem- nity- on the doctrine, the churches, and the clergy, the evil increased from age to age, till the enormous fabric of super- stition was completed, and cemented by alliance with the civil power, and protected by the terrors of persecution. It is time that these things were laid aside ; and that pure religion with unveiled face, and holding the torch of truth in her hand should (like wisdom personified in the Book of Proverbs) cry aloud in the highest places of the city, " Come eat of my bread, and drink of the wine that I have mingled. Forsake the foolish and live, and go in the way of understanding." The advocates for mystery, with apparent exultation in their own penetration, and astonishment at our stupidity, refer us to the unexplained phenomena of human life, and muscular motion ; to the growth and combinations of vegetable and animal matter. They ask us to explain how it is that an act of volition enables us to lift our arm, or raise our eyes : how it is that fluids are converted into vege- table and animal forms ; and what disposes the particles of matter to arrange themselves so differently, as to produce such an infinite variety of shapes, colours, odours, and other attributes ? And if we confess our ignorance, we are then asked, why we refuse our assent to their mysterious doctrine about the divine nature ? I answer, we do so for the very * P ocul O ! P-.ocul este p'ofani Conclamat vates, totoque ahsistite luco. 19 same reason which would justify us in rejecting any iame, confused, and unsupported hypothesis which they . ight chuse to suggest to unravel the hidden operations of na They know nothing aoout the matter any more than our- selves, except the facts that animals exist, have I motion and nervous irritability, and that cert; uni- formly folio % from certain i fore, are hidden from our vi to our knowledge nor our faith. Nor has our anv tendency, as they affirm, to A truth of the existence and Cause, sta sonings about his essence; of which we know I In the prophetic book oi atical representation of the apo church, which was predicted to arise after ii.<' . " The woman was arra\od in purple and >cailt-t colour, and flecked with gold and precious stones and pearls, havi golden cup full of abominations in ! i hei FOREHEAD WAS A NAME WRITTEN MYSTERY ! RcV. *vii. 4, 5. If any church can be found whose chief char; are outward splendour, joined with my terioua services, and inexplicable doctrines, surely n< make a pr< of their understanding can mistake her fi ra truly apostolical church. The apostle gloried in not having a veil face like Moses: but by manifestation of the truth he com- mended himself to every man's conscience, as in the i of God.* * One word here to our soid friends of the Protectant Episcopal and P-esbyterian churches, for manv of whom I enter ain a ve y high esteem Is it not su prising ifte they have been fo a^es declaiming against the monst ous coi i options of the Roman atholic chui ch, and believe it to constitute the z ea a o-tacv f om e true faith w ich Paul so clearly predicted ; that they do net uce that their own system 2. The simplicity and reasonableness of Christianity, as opposed to every thing mystical and unintelligible, render it the more adapted for universal dissemination and influence. The most tender capacity can understand its doctrines and precepts — and the poorest can, without difficulty, practice all its requirements;. Priestcraft and mystery enslave and blind the human understanding, and by their odious tyranny, give a momen- tary triumph to irreligion and infidelity. But the unadorned beauty of the christian profession, when free from these un- natural and meretricious associates, will silence objectors, fascinate every unsophisticated mind, and prove itself friend- ly to every thing great and noble among men — the patroness of liberty, science, and virtue. We cannot but feel ourselves elevated, in being the advocates of such a cause, and exult in anticipating the day when all the nations shall be fellow 7 worshippers of the same God, through the same Mediator, and be " partakers of his promise in Christ, through the gospel." Truth has given many sacred pledges of her future and universal triumphs. of faith is substantially the same? Every doctrine they now contend for so violently, they received from the Catholic church. They have rejected some of its mysteries, but they hold the greater part. Let them read Mr. Kohlman's Book, it will do them good. He will pe. haps tell them in some future numbei , as Dr. Fletcher has done before him, «« As a Catholic, I certainly do reprobate and abhor the whole system of Unitariunism But were I a Protestant, I seriously think I should be a Unitarian ; because were I to admit the Protestant principle, that my reason is the sole arbiter of my faith, [ think as a consistent Pro- testant I ought also to admit its consequences — I would not respect one mystery and insult another, disbelieve one ^enet because it is in- comprehensible, and porfess another which is just as unintelligible." Fletcher'' Spirit of Keligious Controversy. It is a truth, in whatever light it may now appear to themselves, that to be consistent, they must either go back to the Catholics or come over to us. 21 In her occasional manifestations to men, she has never been armed vvitli the sword, or enveloped in the helmet and cui- rass. She asks not the aid of armies, nor glories in the war- rior's garments rolled in blood. She has built no dun-cons though she has inhabited many. She reared not the horrid towers of the inquisition; nor sought support from the hellish malignity and craft, which with the name and semblance of religion, absorbed the wealth and drank the vital blood of its victim*. She seeks not for the edicts of kiniis or att> of Par- liament to give her weight and victory. Her conquests are like those of day over darkness ; — ilent. mild, progressive, and invincible: — seen, felt, and rejoiced in. before the means by which they are accomplished are understood. There was once a long, dark, cold night of ignorance, and the reign of priestcraft over the fairest portions of the earth, in which the voice <>' truth was Scarcely heard: or if heard, WS8 -ileiued In reaistless power: lack-, gibbets, and the lire, kept all things quiet.* '1 hat deep shade has | * Sir. Kohlmann affirm* 'hat '* it i- by mystei ia God his fixed the faith ol his pec pie, and sheltered it from the attempts of a testier ami ever vai yin, philosophy." •• Mysteries were to impose -ili'iKf on that proud and restless rtaaOA, ami to make it submit to t ie yoke ol faith.*' 11 this weft the object <>t Chrisjamty, it saost l>e confessed thai it has been singularly unfortunate and unsuccessfuL l >> instead off -i- lencin.; the curiosity o! the human mind, or producing uUrrefSa] ac- quiescence in every set ot theological speculations, it iia- eve v where provoked discussion, and produced dinerence ol opinion In no former period of the world were men- minds so a^itateu with controve.>v, or reason at work with such restless imporuinitv to discover the grounds of \irtue ami truth. Unitarians inscription, A SUPPLEMENTARY SELECTION OB HYMNS, FOR THE USE OF THE UNITARIA i CHURCH AT WASHINGTON. TUTS new Selection is intended to contain at least one hundred Hymns, which being bound up with the part alrea- dy in use, will constitute the complete Hymn Book for the permanent use of the Society. 1 !u»e who have already pur- chased, or who may previously purchase the part now id will be entitled to the additional Hymns For twenty-fire rent-.. The whole book will be One Dollar in Boards. Societies at a distance, who may wish to Adopt th lection, maj have a quantity on reasonable terms. %CJ^ 'f'he additional Hymns will not he sold separately, except to those who hare purchased the first part — and who are respectfully invited to subscribe lor them immediately at either NV Cooper's or P. Thompson's Btore, as no more extra copies will he printed i n pose than may be previous- ly ei; THE UNITARIAN MISCELLANY AND CHRISTIAN MONITOR. IT is the object of this jvork to set forth the doctrines, and inculcate the truths of the Christian Religion, as they are usually understood by Unitarians. It is published monthly, in Baltimore, by the Baltimore Unitarian Book Society. Annual subscription, one dollar and fifty cents. Ten numbers of the above work are already published, and may be had of \V Cooper or P. Thompson, by whom subscriptions are received. October, 1821. PRINCIPLES OP CONGREGATIONALISM THE SECOND CENTURY LECTURE oi- THE FIRST CHURCH BY CHARLES WENTWORTH UPHAM, JUNIOR PASTOR. SALEM : Foote & Brown Gazette Office Court Street. 1829. LECTURE. TEXT— -PSALM LXXVIII 1 7. 14 Give car, O my people, to my law : incline your ears to the words of my mouth. " I will open my mouth in n parable • / will Htter dark sayings of old, " Which we hare heard and hnoicn, and our fathers have told us. u We will not hide them from their children, shewing to the generations to come the praises of the Lord, and his strength, and the wonderful works that h« hath done : " For he established a testimony in Jacob, and appointed a law in Israel, which he commanded our fathers, that they should make them known to their children : u That the generation to come might know th'm, rrcn the children which should be born, who should arise and declare them to their children. " That they might set thiir hope in Gud, and not forget the works of God, but keep his cummandnunts." We have assembled here to perform a service enjoined upon us by the example of our ancestors. Its nature and object will be best explained by referring to the notices of its previous celebration, which have fortunately been transmitted to our day. One is found in the records of the Church ; the other, which will now be read, was accidentally discovered in an old public paper.* " Salem, August 6,f 1729. On Wednesday was celebrated the First Century Lecture, in the meeting house of the First Church here, in com- memoration of the good hand of the Lord, in found- ing that Church on August 6th, 1629; just one hundred years ago ; enlarging and making her the * Collections of the Massachusotte Historical Society. Vol. IV. p. ^19. Records of First Church. t See Appendix A mother of several others, and preserving and bless- ing her to this day. She was the first Congrega- tional Church that was completely formed and or- ganized in the whole American continent, which was on the day abovementioned, when the Rev. Mr. (Francis) Higginson was ordained the teacher, and the Rev. Mr. Skelton their pastor. Governor Bradford, and others, deputed from the church at Plymouth, coming into the assembly in the time of the solemnity (having been hindered by contrary winds) gave them the right hand of fellowship ; wishing all prosperity and a blessed success to such good beginnings. " The Century Lecture began with singing Psalm CXXII. 1 to 8. The Rev. Mr. Fisk then preached a very agreeable sermon from Psalm LXXVIII. 1 to 7. We then sang Psalm XLIV. 1, 2, 6, 7 verses. The Rev. Mr. Prescott then prayed. We then sang Psalm C. first metre, and the Rev. Mr. Fisk pronounced the blessing. u There were thirteen ministers present, and a considerable confluence of people both from this place and the towns about. " The Records of the Church contain a similar account. It denominates the occasion "The First Century Jubilee," and concludes by expressing the petition that " the Lord would ac- cept the offering of thanks which had then been made." One hundred years more have passed away since the interesting service, which has thus been de- scribed to you in the language of those who were present to witness and partake in it, was performed on this spot The Centennial " Jubilee" has again come round 5 and we are now gathered to commem- orate the completion of the Second Century since the formation of the First American Congregational Church. During the hour, which we are spending together, it will have been drawn to its close. As we enter upon the discharge of the interesting and affecting duty which has fallen to our lot, the images of those virtuous and pious men, who here laid the foundation of an order of churches, which are believed to be more favorable to the promotion of the blessings of Christianity among men than any other, rise up before our minds, and we feel that it is good to contemplate them, as they were engaged in the great and solemn transaction which establish- ed the institutions of the gospel, in their original purity and simplicity, in the new world. We com- mend those of their descendants and successors, who happened at the time to be on the Stage of life, for the faithful zeal and the filial gratitude, with which, when one century had revolved over the Con- gregational Churches of America, they assembled to do honor to the venerable mother and the beautiful pattern of them all. And we would now endeavor to repeat, as nearly as possible, the service which they then performed. It is with this intent, that the same passages from the Psalms, which our ancestors devoutly sung on the previous occurrence of this occasion, have now been chosen, in the very form in which they existed in the quaint and unpoetical, but, in many instances, affecting expression of their ancient version—a ver- sion, which, at the same time that it affords, in its uncouth metre and rude versification, pleasing evi- dence of the progress of devotional poetry in later times, must possess a charm in the estimation of every one who loves to recal to mind the condition and manners of the Fathers of New-England. It was used in all the churches, in most of them for more than a hundred years, and was universally known by the name of the " Bay Psalm Book." I have also adopted, for the text of this Second Cen- tury Lecture, the same passage which my predeces- sor selected as the text of that which he delivered at the close of the First Century. Let them be transmitted on, while the church and the world en- dure, to those of our successors, who shall be called, one after another, with the interlapse of a hundred years, to the discharge of the duties of this occasion. If the discourse of Mr. Fisk, which is represented to have been " very agreeable" to those who listened to it, had been preserved, with what interest should we now regard it ! If it sketched the history of this Church, which, up to the date of its delivery, had been the history of Salem, and, to a great extent, of all the surrounding towns ; or if it described the origin, or explained the principles of the Congrega- tional Churches, or if it traced their progress during the first century of their existence, what an invalu- able treasure it would have been to us ! But we fear that it is irrecoverably lost. Our fathers, al- though they went far beyond the example of the founders of every other community, in exercising a wise and provident care for the instruction, improve- ment and gratification of their descendants, permit- ted, notwithstanding, many an event of moment to pass unrecorded, and many an important record to perish. Among the interesting productions of the earlier ages of America, which have failed to reach us, there arc few, perhaps, which we have more reason to regret, than the First Century Lecture delivered here. As it is, the whole field is laid open before me, and is as yet unoccupied, from the point at which we now stand, back to the day when the Pilgrims first assembled here to perform their worship as an or- ganized Christian Congregation. In seeking for to- pics appropriate to this occasion, I look down the course of time along the extended distance of two hundred years. The first suggestion which presents itself, is the propriety of commemorating the virtues, and de- lineating the characters of the race of men who laid the foundations of Christianity and civilization on these shores. But I am reminded, that it will be a hopeless attempt for me to undertake to give new interest to topics which have for years been the chosen theme of the noblest genius, and the loftiest eloquence of the land. And especially would it be in vain, for any one, in this community, and in this generation, to enter upon the discussion of subjects, 8 which have, so recently, on a similar occasion, been at once illustrated and exhausted by one of our own most honored, and most beloved fellow citizens.* The design which next offers itself to considera- tion, is that of giving to this Lecture the form of an historical memoir of the First Church. And many, who have not attended closely to the study of our early history, may, perhaps, suppose that such a memoir could be embraced within its limits. But the supposition would be incorrect. It is true, in- deed, as has been remarked by another, that the age of commemoration has actually begun among us. An interest in the men, and in the events of preceding periods, is awakened widely and earnest- ly throughout the country. There are still however but few, who have fully estimated the amount of those treasures, which are laid up for the historian in the two centuries already past. It would indeed be utterly impossible to do any thing like justice to the history of this single Church in an address from the pulpit. In order to exhibit the accuracy and propriety of this assertion, and to show how worthy the memoirs of this venerable religious community are of being written and preserved in another, more elaborate, and more extended form, the track, over which the biography of several of its distinguish- ed pastors alone would lead, will now be briefly sketched. * See Centennial Discourse in commemoration of the first settlement of Salem, by Hon. Joseph Story, Associate Justice of the Supreme Court of the United States. 9 In tracing the course of Francis Higginson, from the place of his education in Emanuel College to his early grave in Salem, we are presented throughout with the most interesting scenes. We pass through the wide field of Nonconformity and of the Reformation in England — a field crowded with the most affecting, romantic, and momentous incidents ; and we come into close contact with all the adventures, perils, and distresses, of the first settlers of New-England. He was one of the most amiable and accomplished ministers of his age. We cannot contemplate his character without feeling the deepest reverence for his virtues, 1 1 1 * - highest admiration of his talents, and the tenderest interest in his sufferings and death. With a genius and eloquence, which, had he stooped to conformity, would have secured to him all the glory and power that an earthly ambition could covet, he sub- mitted, for conscience sake, to the severest sacri- fices and the most embarrassing distresses, while in his awn country. For conscience sake, he braved what were then indeed the dreadful perils of the ocean, and fled to this wild and wintry shore ; and here he perished an early martyr to the holy cause of christian liberty. Virtue and religion demand that the character and actions, the services and sufferings of this good man should be presented in all their interest, and with all their attraction, to the generations of New- England. The man, who laid the foundations of our religious institutions in the principles of the most 6% 10 perfect freedom, and of apostolic simplicity, ought never to be forgotten. We should take delight in rescuing his example from obscurity, and his name from oblivion. The christian graces shed such a beauty upon his daily life, that the hearts of all who witnessed it were charmed into love and admiration. It is re- lated, that, when he left Leicester, the place of his residence in England, to embark for the forests of America, although at the time he was suffering be- neath the frowns of the government, the people of every rank and party rushed forth from their dwell- ings to bid him farewell. They crowded the streets through which he passed. Every eye was filled with tears, and every voice was imploring blessings upon him ! Our imaginations should often present him to our hearts, as he called his family and fellow passengers around him, leaned over the stern of the vessel, in which he was borne in exile from his na- tive home, while the cliffs of his country, still dear to his soul, although it was driving him out to perish in the wilderness, were disappearing from sight, and uttered that memorable benediction, than which there is nothing more affecting, more magnanimous, or more sublime in the records of history : " We will not say, as the Separatists were wont to say at their leaving of England— farewell Babylon ! fare- well Rome ! — but we will say Farewell Dear England ! farewell the church of God in England, and all the christian friends there!" Our bosoms must always experience a softened and melancholy 11 emotion, when we reflect upon his rapid decline and premature death. His delicate constitution could not bear the rigors of the new climate, and the pri- vations incident to the early settlement. The suffer- ings of one short year, the severities of a single win- ter, carried him off. As the termination of his life approached, he seemed to have been admitted to clearer views of the results of the great enterprise which he had been called to conduct. His soul soared into those higher regions, from which the scenes of futurity can be discerned. In his dying hours he repeatedly uttered the prediction, which has already been so wonderfully fulfilled. " He was persuaded," he said, " that although the Lord was calling him away, he would raise up others, to carry on the work that was begun, and that there would yet be many churches of the Lord Jesus Christ in this wilderness." While he sleeps by the side of their fathers, may our children of every generation venerate his character and cherish his memory. Such was Francis Higginson ! We have cause to bless Providence that a character so bright and beautiful in all the attributes which can adorn the man, the patriot, and the christian, was selected to take the lead in that great work commenced at the formation of this Church, and which will never be finished while error and bigotry remain — "the further reformation of religion in the world." Samuel Skelton was chosen to the office of Pastor of this Church at the same time that Francis 12 Iiissinson was elected Teacher. On account of DO His greater age he was called to the superior station. B ut his modest and retiring disposition prompted him to give the lead, in the transactions at the set- tlement of the Church, to his younger colleague. He had been highly respectable as a clergyman be- fore he left England. Governor Endicott became a professor of religion under his ministry there, and ever afterwards looked up to him with gratitude and reverence, as to his spiritual father and guide. A most tender friendship existed between them, and it is probable that it was among the strongest of the motives, which induced Mr. Skelton to remove to America, that he might again enjoy the society of his pious and distinguished parishioner. Mr. Skel- ton lived but a few years after his arrival in New- England. One of the early writers describes him, as " a man of gracious speech, full of faith, and furnished by the Lord w 7 ith gifts from above." Notwithstanding his love for quiet and retirement, and his devotion to the silent and unostentatious discharge of the duties of life, he had a noble and fearless spirit 5 and although but little is said of him in our early annals, that little is enough to render his memory dear, and his name honored. This is the brief but imperishable record of Samuel Skel- ton, the First Pastor of the First Church ; he was the friend and counsellor of John Endicott— the faithful defender of Roger Williams — the bold as- sertor and the watchful guardian of the freedom and independence of our Congregational Churches. 13 The name of Roger Williams has long been recorded high on the list of those which will not be forgotten by man 5 and the writer who would nar- rate his history will find himself called to the dis- cussion of some of the most important questions ever agitated by the moralist or statesman. He will have to traverse the whole subject of the connection between the church and state — to investigate the principles of religious liberty in their deepest foun- dations, and their broadest dimensions — to delineate the basis upon which a truly free commonwealth must be established — and to examine thoroughly the condition, the character, the claims, and the rights of the aboriginal inhabitants of this continent. For Roger Williams was the first who had political sa- gacity enough, and a sufficient acquaintance with the spirit of the Gospel, to detect and expose the erro- neous doctrine, previously every where maintained, of the necessity of the exercise of the civil power in matters of religion. He stands at the head of those illustrious men who have fearlessly advocated the great principle of entire and individual christian liberty. He laid the foundations of a political com- munity in which the enjoyment of personal freedom to an extent never conceived of before, never sur- passed since, was secured. And he was the sincere friend, and the benevolent patron of the poor Indians. His writings give the best account, that has reached us, of their language, and customs, and character. The successor of Roger Williams was Hugh Peters. His character and life will demand the 14 exercise of the most exalted and the most pleasing functions of the biographer. All the great events of one of the most important epochs of modern times will be passed in review. And the genius of history will be summoned to the discharge of her sublimest office, in overthrowing the usurped dominion of error, and establishing truth upon that throne to which time will always, sooner or later, lead her back. Passion, prejudice, and interest, have all combined in heaping calumny and reproach upon the character of Hugh Peters. And they have thus far succeeded. For nearly two centuries his name has been associated only with conceptions of wick- edness and sentiments of horror. But their day has passed ; and justice will finally be done to the as- persed fame of the martyred and abused philanthro- pist. I feel sure that there is no hazard in predict- ing that he will, ere long, be acknowledged as one of the best and greatest characters of the age in which he lived. There is none among them, and the age of the Puritans was an age of great men, who has left a wider or deeper impression upon their times than Hugh Peters. His eloquence and zeal as a Divine — his ability and courage as a patriot Statesman and Soldier — his wisdom and energy as a Citizen — and his benevolence and integrity as a Man, will at last compel the admiration of the world. Let us trace the outline of his extraordinary and romantic career. He was educated at Trinity College, in Cam- bridge. At a very early age he was appointed Pub- 15 lie Lecturer in a church of the metropolis, and such was the reputation which his energetic eloquence acquired, that a congregation of between six and seven thousand persons was gathered beneath his preaching. The doctrinal sentiments of Mr. Peters were in harmony with those of the early Calvinists. But, through his whole life, he was the bold, con- sistent, and uniform assertor and advocate of liberty in religion, as well as in government. The following passage, taken from a sermon preached before the assembled rulers and divines of England, exhibits at once his nervous eloquence, his original, rich, and penetrating intellect, and his enlarged and liberal principles. " I hear much of differences, opinions, sects, heresies, and truly I think they would be lesse, if we did not think them so many. One error, and but one, our Saviour gives caution about, and lately I have thought much upon. He says. Be- ware of the leaven of the Pharisees, and if we knew which that leaven were, it would help us in these fears. This I suggest therefore. Leaven hath three properties. 1. It sowres. 2. It tufiens, or hardens. 3. It swells the lump. Therefore that opinion which sowres mens 5 spirits against their brethren, and it may be against authority, that swells them, and prides them, that hardens them, and makes tough, and not easily intreated, beware of that opin- ion, as of the leaven of the Pharisees. Errors in us, are like corn, in the sowing of it; if it lie above ground, it may be gathered up again, but if it be plowed in and harrowed, lie under the clod, there is 16 little hope. Whilest errors lie in the understand- ing, scripture, reason, argument, time, sweetnesse and tendernesse may do much to the cure : the dan- ger is, when they lie under the will, when we shall say, we will have what we will, or all shall crack ; with Sampson, pull down the two great posts, that others may perish, though we perish with them. Beware of this leaven of the Pharisees. You shall ever find pride the fomenter of differences. * * * * But those opinions that find a soule in a lowly frame, and after received, keep the soule so, and carry it to Christ, they need not trouble State nor Church." He was, it is probable, one of the most powerful pulpit orators that ever lived. So close and penetrating were his appeals, so affecting and irresistible were his exhortations, that there is reason to believe, to use his own words, that " above an hundred every week were persuaded from Sin to Christ" by his preaching. His great popularity and influence exposed him to jealousy and envy, and he was one of the first objects upon which the power of that domineering and per- secuting Primate, Archbishop Laud, was brought to bear. He was driven from his church in London, and compelled to abandon his country. He fled to Holland. But his fame had preceded him, and he was immediately called to take charge of a congre- gation in Rotterdam. He remained four or five years in the United Provinces. While there he at- tracted the admiration of the learned men throughout the continent, and so great was the regard in which 17 he was held, that the celebrated Dr. William Ames, the memorable champion of the Reformed Churches at that period, removed to Rotterdam for the sole purpose of enjoying his acquaintance and co-opera- tion in the ministry. "The learned Amesius, v says Mr. Peters, in one of his writings, u breathed his last breath into my bosom, who left his Profes- sorship in Friesland to live with me, because of my Church's Independency at Rotterdam. He was my colleague, and chosen brother to the church, where I was an unworthy Pastor." It was while he was thus living in prosperity and in honor, that his active and benevolent spirit frit an attraction towards the poor and feeble settle- ments of New-England. I le perceived a \\ ide Held of usefulness opened to him here, and came over the ocean lo occupy it. \\ iihin about two years from the time of his arrival he was ordained Pastor of this Church. His residence in America contin- ued seven years. Faithful tradition, corroborating the testimony, and supplying the deficiencies of the imperfect records of that day, has informed us of his energy, bis usefulness, and his eloquence.* He left the stamp of bis beneficent and wonderful genius upon the agriculture, the fisheries, the manufactures. • Enon was the name originally given l>\ the Colonists to the district winch has since bet n incorporated as the town ol VVenbara. .Near the (dwra ofUia beautiful lake in that place, and not far from flic public road, there is a small conical bill, which is often called Peterss Hill, or Peters s Pulpit. It is re- lated that, on one occasion. Hugh Peters addressed a largs roncourc people from its summit. The following mis Ins te.\t. John iii. £3. ' At F.non, near to Salim, because there was much water there."' This will over be regarded as a classical ami consecrated spot. a 18 the commerce, and the navigation of New- England. Salem never advanced so rapidly, as during the pe- riod of his residence here. He reformed the police, introduced the arts, and erected a water-mill, a glass-house, and salt works. He encouraged the planting of hemp, and established a market-house. He formed the plan of the fisheries, and of the coast- ing and foreign voyages. Under his influence many ships were built, one of them of three hundred tons. He checked the tendency of the people to religious dissipation by diminishing the number of lectures and conferences which they were in the habit of at- tending. As a preacher and pastor he was eminently successful. In the course of five years eighty male and as many female members were added to his Church. He took an active part in the service of the infant College 5 and through his whole life con- tinued to confer his benefactions upon the inhab- itants of the Colony. Itwas not until after repeat- ed solicitations on the part of the General Court of Massachusetts, that his affectionate and admiring church and congregation consented to let him ac- cept the commission to which he had been several times appointed, that of agent or ambassador from the Plantations to the government at home. It is honorable to his character to find that, after his return to his own country, he continued to hold in grateful and respectful remembrance the people with whom he had resided in America. In a sermon preached before both Houses of Parliament, the Lord Mayor and Aldermen of London, and the As- 19 sembly of Divines, he passes the following eulogi- um upon our early ancestors ; would that their de- scendants might also merit it ! "I have lived," said he, " in a country, where, in seven years, I never saw a beggar, nor heard an oath, nor looked upon a drunkard."* Soon after his arrival in England, he was led to visit Ireland. He found the people of that island, who, through the whole period of their history al- most to this day, have at the same time challenged the admiration of the world for their ardent vir- tues, and awakened its compassion for their wretch- ed condition, in a most deplorable slate of poverty and distress. J lis heart was touched by the sight of their misery ; and, prompted solely by the dic- tates of his generous nature, he seized the first mo- ment of leisure, and undertook to go over to Hol- land, the country of his former residence, for the purpose of collecting the means of relief for the poor Irish sufferers. And, in a short time, he re- turned with what would be considered, even in our day, an enormous sum gathered by the individual exertions of a private man, thirty thousand pounds sterling. It was wholly collected in the United Provinces, and Mr. Peters enjoyed the heavenly satisfaction of distributing it to the impoverished and the hungry. This noble act proves the energy, the influence, and the benevolence of his character. *" God'H Doings and Man's Duty, opened in a Sermon preached before both Houses of Parliament, the Lord Maior and Aldermen of the City of London, and tiie Assembly of Divines/' by Hugh Petere, 1645. 20 He served the Republican cause most earnestly and most faithfully during the wars of the Parlia- ment, and the government of the Protector. While he gave his whole soul to that cause, he was ever found the advocate of mercy and mildness towards the Royalists. Rut, notwithstanding this, so great was his ability, and so important had his services been to the Puritans, that he became a distinguished mark for the reproaches, the invectives, and the vengeance of the friends of the Royal government ; and, upon the restoration of Charles II, he was selected as one of the most conspicuous victims of his wrath. He was condemned to execution. During his confinement in the Tower, he com- posed a small volume for the benefit of his daughter, entitled " A Dying Father's Last Legacy. 55 * It w r ould not, perhaps, be saying too much to affirm that there are few, if any, better works, of the kind, in the language than this. It is judicious, practical, and interesting. A lofty and pure strain of devotion pervades it. The child to whom he addressed it appears to have been the object of his most tender love. It is replete with the evidences of his genius and eloquence, although there are throughout those peculiar marks of incorrectness, inadvertency and abruptness in the style, which reveal an agitation of soul to which an affectionate parent, in circum- * The following is the title in full of this admirable work : " A Dying Father's Last Legacy to an Only Child : or Mr. Hugh Peters' advice to his daughter, written by his own hand, during his late imprisonment in the Tower of London, and given her a little before his death." See Ap- pendix B. 21 stances like his, could not but have been subject. Many beautiful and affecting passages might be col- lected from it. He thus recommends an approving conscience. " Do not grieve conscience twice, it must be your best friend, yea, when friends, and world, and all leave you to solitariness. It will make a soft bed for you in your greatest sorrow. * * * * Remember, a good Conscience and Sin cannot live together: Let but this bird sing sweetly within, and let Heaven and Earth come together, — thou shalt be safe, my poor child." The following is his description of the Judgment. M You are to come before an impartial Judge, with a naked and open breast. Your wisdom will be, to carry your pardon in your bosom : there wit, and learning, parts, and wealth will get no hearing: there the eloquent orator is dumb — there greatness must give way to goodness ; there hypocrisic is un- masked, truth naked. There preaching, miracles, casting out devils, will not profit, but a name writ- ten in the book of the Lamb. The ever living God love you, and keep you to all eternity, my child." He thus describes Heaven. " Evil knows no place there ; Sin cannot dwell with that holiness ; Sorrow cannot mingle with that joy ; no more fading Riches, dying Friends, changing Honours, perish- ing Beauty 5 no more aking heads, nor languishing diseases 5 no more hearing the chain of the prisoner, nor anger of the oppressor ; no cry of what do you lack ? * * * * Where every bed is easie, being of never-blasting roses and sweets ; where every 22 room is paved with Love ; where Wisdom, Power, Mercy, and Grace have combined to make all glo- rious and pleasant. The Father of our Lord Jesus Christ preserve you to his Heavenly Kingdom, my poor child." Near the conclusion of the work, he sums up his good advice and good wishes to his daughter, and bestows his benedictions upon his country in some brief poetic effusions. The following is extracted from the lines addressed to his daughter. I wish you neither poverty Nor riches, But godliness, so gainful With content; No painted pomp nor glory that Bewitches ; A blameless life is the best Monument : And such a soul that soars a- Bove the skie, Well pleased to live, but better Pleased to die. For his country he expresses sentiments like these : I wish that Prince and Rulers, All that guide, May be good, and do good ; which Is god- like : And that their care appear, so To provide, That those of strength do not th« Weaker strike ; The end of ruies from Christian Polity, To live in godliness, and Honesty. •23 In reading this little volume it is delightful to find that, in the trying hours in which it was written, his heart was turned with tender reminiscence towards his former connection with the church and commu- nity here in Salem. He thus mourns over his sep- aration from them. " It hath lain to my heart above any thing almost, that I left that people I was en- gaged to in New-England, it cuts deeply, I look upon it as a Root-evil ; and though I was never Parson nor Vicar, never took Ecclesiastical promo- tion, never preached upon any a gr e em ent for money in my life, though not without offers, and great ones, yet I had a flock, J say, I had a flock, to whom I was ordained, who were worthy of my Life and Labors; hut I could never think myself fit to be their Pastor, so unaccomplisht lor such a work, for which, who is sufficient (crjres the Apostle) ?" It is enough to make the heart bleed to think of the situation in which the •• poor child" to whom he addressed his dying advice was left. She was a for- lorn, forsaken, helpless creature, the memory of her revered father was loaded with infamy, she was utterly destitute of friends, of sympathy, and of the means of subsistence. " I do first," says the wretched parent, " commend you to the Lord, and then to the care of a faithful friend, whom I shall name unto you, if a friend may be found in this juncture, that dare own your name. And if I go shortly where time shall be no more ; sink not, but lay thy head in His bosome who can keep thee, for He sits upon the waves. Farewell — And since we 24 must part — must part: take my wishes, sighs and groans to follow thee, and pity the feebleness of what I have sent, being writ under much, yea very much discomposure of spirit. 55 After advising her to procure, upon his departure, a situation as a servant "in some godly family," he makes the following proposal. " But if you would go home to New-England (which you have much reason to do) go with good company, and trust God there: the church are a tender company. 55 Al- though the imagination is left to conjecture the par- ticulars of the life of this desolate young orphan, it is delightful to our hearts to think that she did seek refuge in that New-England which was so dear to her father. The God to whom he committed her in his dying hour did not desert her. There is rea- son to believe that the people of this place, that " tender company 55 to whom he commended her, received her into the arms of their love and compas- sion, and did for her every thing that gratitude and benevolence could suggest.* CO * In Hutchinson's Collection of Papers there is a letter from a gentleman in London to Governor Leverett, requesting him to inform the Salem Church of the wretched and destitute condition of the bereaved family of Mr. Peters, and to commend to its charity and care his wife, who, for years before his execution, had been afflicted by mental alienation. The daughter to whom Mr. Peters addressed his "Legacy" was born before he left America; her baptism is found recorded thus in our Church books. " IC40. 1st mo. 8. Eliza, daughter of Mr. Peters." After her father's execution, she came to America, according to his advice, and was kindly received by his friends. So respectable was the situation in which they placed her, that she was mar- ried to a gentleman of rank in Newport, Rhode-Island. It is probable that she removed with her husband to England, where she became a widow. There can bo no doubt that she lived there in affluence and honor, for she? 25 On the day after his condemnation, Mr. Peters was sufficiently composed to preach a sermon, it being the Sabbath, to his fellow convicts in New- gate. It was from this text, " Why art thou cast down, O my soul? and why art thou disquieted within me? Hope thou in God, for I shall yet praise him." He was dragged to execution upon a sledge, and was compelled to witness the death of his friend and co-patriot, the former Solicitor General, Mr. Justice Cook; while in this situation, some one came to him, and reproached him with the death of the King. He replied, with the most perfect mild- ness and presence of mind, " Friend, you do not well to trample upon a dying man, and you are greatly mistaken, for I had nothing to do in the death of the King.' 5 When the body of his friend had been cut down and quartered, the savage execu- tioner came to him, rubbing together his hands besmeared in blood, and atrociously asked, " How do you like this, Mr. Peters ; how do you like this work?" The venerable patriot answered, " I am not, had influence enough to recover from the crown her father's foreign posses- sions, which had illegally been confiscated. Humphrey Devereux, Esq., a Member of this Church and Society, is at present the owner of an estate on the Marhlchoad shore, which originally belonged to Hugh Peters. The deed by which he holds it, was given to his ancestor, March 17. 1705, by 11 Elizabeth Barker, widow, daughter and sole heir of Hugh Peters." She ap- pears to have been in America at the time of signing this deed. The sum which she received for the estate was over three hundred and fifty pounds. At its date she must have been sixty-five years of age. It is highly grat- ifying to our feelings to find evidence, in these few facts, which are all ihat we can ascertain concerning her. that the good Providence, to which her dying father entrusted her. supplied her wants, conducted her steps, and sur- rounded her path with blessings. 2G I thank God, terrified at it ; you may do your worst." As he approached the gallows, he beckoned to a person whom he happened to know, and entrusted to him a piece of gold, having first bent it, to be con- veyed, as a parting token of affection, to his daugh- ter. "Tell her, 5 ' said he, "that my heart is full of comfort. I am ready to die ; weep not for me ; let them weep who part and shall never meet again. You and I shall meet again in Heaven ; and, before this piece of gold reaches you, I shall be with God in Glory, where is no night, no need of a candle, nor of the Sun, for the Lord will give us light." When he had ascended the ladder, he turned to the officer of the law, and said, in the most solemn manner, " Sir, you have slain one of the servants of God before mine eyes, and have made me to be- hold it, on purpose to terrify and discourage me ; but God hath made it an ordinance unto me, for my strengthening and encouragement." The last words he uttered were these, " Oh, this is a good day ! He is come that I have long looked for, and I shall be with him in glory." The faithful histo- rian, who has preserved for us a record of the sub- lime fortitude, and true christian courage of this great man during the awful closing scene, informs us that "he smiled when he went away." Such is a brief sketch of the life and death of a man, whose name is enrolled among the pastors of this Church. What a delightful privilege will it be to him, who shall write its history, to rescue this illustrious philanthropist and patriot from the re- 27 proach which has been suffered so long to lie upon his memory, and to hold him forth to gratitude and admiration, as the eloquent and consistent defender of the Reformation on the continent of Europe, as the compassionate friend and helper of suffering Ireland, as the active, disinterested and judicious benefactor of America, ajid as the intrepid assertor and faithful martyr of English liberty ! # Edward Norris succeeded Mr. Peters in the ministry here, and occupies an honorable station in our early history. He had been a clergyman in England before his arrival in this country. His character was very much respected throughout New England. In many different forms he was a public benefactor, and on several occasions of emergency our fathers appealed to his wisdom and ability to guide and rescue them. And they never appealed in vain. He exercised a salutary influence in pro- moting the industry, preserving the pence, and in- creasing the security of the colony. In religion he was actuated by a spirit of moderation, in his pub- lic conduct he was fearless and consistent, in his political opinions he was friendly to Liberty, and his patriotism was active, constant and ardent. After a useful life and peaceful ministry, he died, beloved, honored, and mourned by all. The life of John Higginson, although the mate- rials for his biography are defective, would compre- * The above must bo regarded as u mere outline of the character Rnd career of Hugh Paters. There is a great variety <>f tacts and eircMMtsnrflV, illustrative of his wisdom, benevolenee and usefulness, which I have been compelled to pass over without notice. 28 hend many circumstances of great interest. His history extends from the settlement of the colony to its seventieth year. He was the first person admit- ted to this church after its formation, and the last forty-nine years of his life were spent in the duties of its pastoral care. His youth, and early manhood were exposed to the severest trials, but a good Pro- vidence carried him safely through them. He al- ludes to them in the following simple and affecting language. " When the Lord was pleased in the year 1629 to bring over my Reverend and Godly Father into this wilderness, as one of the first minis- ters to begin the work of God here in Salem, I was then but a child of thirteen years of age : It seemed good unto God, only wise, to take my Father unto himself in the year following, then was my good Mother left as a desolate widow, with eight small children, (myself being the eldest) in a mere wilder- ness, with a very small estate; and in a condition very like unto that minister's widow and children, mentioned 2 Kings 4. 2, &c. yet such was the abun- dant goodness and faithfulness of the Lord our God, who keepeth covenant and mercy with his servants and their children after them, Deut. 7. 9. that he moved the breasts of many pious christians (who then lived wholly on the stock they had brought with them) out of their great respect unto my good Father, to express such a charity and liberality to his widow and children, that my Father's family was as well and comfortably provided for, as if he had been in our native land." * See Appendix C. 29 The life of this excellent man was protracted to the great length of ninety-three years. Throughout its whole course he was a beautiful specimen of a distinct and peculiar class of men, who in many points were possessed of a dignified and amiable in- terest, the primitive New England Ministers. His last days were spent in peace and honor 5 they were lovely and venerable. He was regarded as the Nes- tor of the Congregational Churches. His counsel was sought in every emergency — his sanction re- quested for every undertaking. Books, published at the time, were considered as stamped with a char- acter which would secure universal respect and con- fidence, if they were ushered fortli with his approv- ing signature. Cotton Mather's great work, the Magnalia, is graced and hallowed by a delightful prefatory commendation, written by the good man at the age of eighty-two. His grey hairs were adorned with that crown of glory, with which a vir- tuous old age always encircles the brows. The light, which had beamed from his pure and holy ex- ample during his long life, was collected and con- centrated with a supernatural lustre around his ven- erable form. The generations as they passed, knelt to receive his benedictions ; they crowded round him that they might enjoy, before he was taken away, that conversation, which a contemporary declares to have been "a glimpse of Heaven." He always welcomed them as they approached. And when they retired from his presence they felt that it was good for them to have been there. We can imagine 30 the hoary and benignant patriarch, standing among his younger brethren and successors, and saying, in the language of Jacob, before his departure, while his children and children's children were gathered around him, "bring them unto me, and I will bless them." At last he was called home by his Heav- enly Father. His dust reposes in our soil — let his memory be treasured up in our hearts — let his char- acter be honored in all our churches. The biography of Nicholas Noyes would em- brace the whole subject of the famous witchcraft delusion. Salem happened to be the scene on which it was most conspicuously exhibited, and it is under- stood that Mr. Noyes took a leading part in the transactions to which it gave rise. This extraordi- nary and awful passage in our history has never yet been discussed in a manner sufficiently thorough and elaborate to meet the demands which philosophical truth, and the reputation of our ancestors, equally and justly make. Mr. Noyes was distinguished, in his day, as a Poet, and it was considered by our fathers as a great addition to the value and interest of a volume, to have it prefaced by one of his ingenious and quaint effusions. The following character, drawn by a person well acquainted with him, was inserted in the Boston News Letter, and is also found in the records of the Church. " On Dec. 13, 1717, Died the very Reverend and Famous Mr. Nicholas Noyes, near 70 years of age, and in the 35th year of his ordained ministry 31 in this church. He was extraordinarily accom- plished for the work of the ministry, vvhereunto he was called, and wherein he found mercy to be Faithful, and was made a Rich, Extensive, and long continued Blessing. Considering his Superior Genius, his Pregnant Wit, Strong Memory, Solid Judgment, his Great Acquisition in humane Learn- ing, and Knowledge, his Conversation among men, especially with his Friends, so very Pleasant, Entertaining, and Profitable, his Uncommon At- tainments in the Study of Divinity* his Eminent Sanctity, Gravity, and Ptrfae, his Serious, Learn- ed, and Pious Performances in the Pulpit, his more than ordinary Skill in the Prophetical Parts of Scripture, his Wisdom and I'scfulness in hu- mane Affairs, and his constant Solicitude for the Public Good, it is no wonder that Salem and the Adjacent Parts of the Country, as also the Church- es, University and People of NeuhEngland justly esteem Mm as a Principal Part of ffteir Glory. He was Born at Newbury Dec. 22, 1617, and died a Bachelor." During the latter part of Mr. Noyes's ministry, George Cur wen, a young man of great promise, was settled as his colleague. He lived but three years after his ordination. His death occurred a few days before that of Mr. Noyes. The following tribute to his character is found in the records of the Church. " He was highly esteemed in his life, and very deservedly lamented at his death, having been very 32 eminent for his early improvements in Learning and Piety, his Singular Abilities and 6rrea£ La- bors, his Remarkable Zeal and Faithfulness in the service of his Master. A grea* benefactor to our poor. The Reverend Mr. JVbi/es his Zi/e was mwc/i bound up in himV The ministry of Samuel Fisk, who preached the First Century Lecture,* was turbulent and un- happy. An unfortunate disaffection and division occurred in the congregation which it would be useless here to investigate or describe. I would only remark that the documents which have come down to us, however they may affect our judgment respecting the conduct of the parties to the contro- versy, are filled with evidence of the uncommon talent and energy of Mr. Fisk. The ministry of John Sparhawk lasted nine- teen years. He was beloved in his life, and in his death sincerely and universally lamented. *Mr. Fisk preached the Election Sermon May 26th, 1731. It is a curious coincidence that he happened to be appointed to perform that service on the anniversary which marked the completion of the first, and the commencement of the second Century of the observance of the Annual Election in Massa- chusetts. He thus alludes to this circumstance. " If I do not mistake, we are now, in the affairs of this day, entering on the Second Century of choos- ing our Magistrates, within this Territory of the Ancient Massachusetts. And therefore, on this occasion, to call to mind our Fathers' public spirit, and the good success of it, is a proper reverence for their persons, principles and pro- ceedings ; and the just improvement we are to make of it, is our strict imita- tion of them. This is due to their patent, purchase, piety and prayers, and the alone fit discharge of that trust thereby committed to each succeeding generation. W 7 hat we have, we should account the purchase of their money, yea, of their very lives ; watered with their tears; sanctified by their extraor- dinary virtue, example and prayers to God; transmitted by their solemn charge to their children ; enriched and sealed with their toil and blood." In the concluding paragraph he prays " that this may be the happy beginning of a Second Century of Elections." 33 Thomas Barnard discharged the duties of the pastoral office twenty-one years. The congregation was celebrated during his ministry for the intelli- gence, refinement, and high literary cultivation of its members, and he was universally regarded by his contemporaries as a most estimable and excellent clergyman. He preached the Dudleian Lecture in 1768. It is a very respectable performance 5 its spi- rit is earnest, enlightened and liberal ; its reasoning is sound and acute, clear and convincing ; a highly educated and refined intellect is disclosed through- out, and it proves that he was entirely familiar with all the metaphysical theories and rules of argumen- tation known in his day. The ministry of Asa Dunbar was of short du- ration. He had a high reputation for talent, and was very much admired by his congregation. He resigned his office at the expiration of seven years, and was succeeded by the present Senior Pastor of the Church. The sketches which have now been given of the lives and characters of its ministers, have been offered to your contemplation, not solely for the purpose of showing that it would be impracticable to condense into one discourse a full and adequate history of this Church, but also because, in themselves, they are highly appropriate to the occasion. Before relin- quishing the subject, it is proper to mention the in- teresting fact, that, although there have been four- teen regularly ordained Pastors of this Church, the ministry of my venerable friend and colleague, who 5 34, has been permitted to preside over and conduct the solemnities of this service, covers one quarter of its whole duration. It has been protracted beyond that of any of his predecessors; and in a few weeks, if his life shall be preserved through them, it will have extended itself to half a century. Let us join with him, my friends, in rendering thanks to that good Providence which has thus lengthened out his days. May philosophy and religion continue to shed a calm and holy lustre upon his path — And may God bless and illumine the evening of a life which has been spent in discovering and adoring his perfections, as they are revealed in his works ! In looking back along the history of this Church, our attention must not be engrossed by the contem- plation of individual characters however interesting, or of transient events however important. We must extend our vision until it reaches the very founda- tion upon which it was built ; and if we examine that foundation, we shall find that it rests upon a few great principles. To these principles let us give our attention. It has always been allowed that this was the First American Congregational Church. It is true indeed that those excellent and pious men at Plymouth, who were worthy of the glorious distinction, which they rightfully possess, of being the first and fore- most of the Pilgrim race, had maintained christian worship for years previous to the organization of this Church ; but for some time they considered themselves only as a branch of the church whose l 35 pastor, and a majority of whose members, remained in Leyden 5 and, owing to various causes, they did not become a distinct and fully constructed religious society, for some time after the establishment of the church here. It is upon grounds like these, that our claim to the character of the First American Congregational Church has been uniformly present- ed, and always allowed. But we go further, and maintain that this should be regarded as the mother of the Congregational Churches throughout the modern world. It is well known, to every one conversant with the history of the Protestant Churches, that Robert Brown, more than forty years before, conceived, and endeavored to put into operation, a scheme of christian social worship and ecclesiastical government, similar in many points to that adopted by our Fathers. It is also well known that John Robinson, on the conti- nent of Europe, and that Henry Jacob and John Lathorp, in England, had adopted substantially the same principles as those of Brown, and were the Pastors of Churches somewhat resembling our own, before the year 1629. But either these attempts were crushed in the beginning, or, if independent churches were formed, they were repressed by per- secution, or restrained by authority, and thus finally exterminated, so that no traces of them are now to be found. And, besides, they were not, in all points, conformed to the principles which were here defined, and declared to belong to a Congregational Church. 36 While inquiring into the principles, upon which this Church was established, we are, then, inquiring into the fundamental principles of a denomination of churches, which is spread widely over this part of our country, and which, we firmly believe, if its original principles shall be perpetuated and observ- ed, is destined to become a universal denomination. It is indeed a momentous inquiry. May our minds be liberated from prejudice, that we may be pre- pared to enter upon it ! May they be filled with light, that we may accomplish it by the attainment of the truth ! I. In the first place our Fathers defined the matter of a Congregational Church to be a body of men gathered by voluntary association, propo- sing to form themselves into an organized commu- nity for social toorship as Christians, and possess- ing in themselves, previous to a covenant, or pro- fession, or to the assumption in any form of the ec- clesiastical estate, all the powers, rights, faculties, and privileges, which are needed to construct and constitute a church of Christ. This will immediately appear upon an examina- tion of the circumstances connected with the estab- lishment of the Church on the 6th of August, 1629. Who were the persons that took part in the transac- tions of that occasion? There were, it is probable, four ministers present, each of whom had been or- dained, and two of them highly distinguished, as clergymen, in the mother country. And although there is reason to suppose that some among them 37 had not before made a profession of religion, there can be no doubt that many, perhaps the greater part of the laymen had been members of churches and professors of religion previous to their emigration to America, as was certainly the case with Governor Endicott. Still, notwithstanding all this, they seem to have divested themselves, with one accord, of ecclesiastical character. The ministers threw off their official faculties, the church-members were not recognised in that aspect. The whole company de- scended, as it were, to that equal rank, in which a state of nature would have arranged them. They entered, not as church-members, but as christian men, upon a free and open deliberation concerning the right method of erecting themselves into a re- ligious society. A form of covenant was proposed to them, and when they had, upon consultation, unanimously adopted it, they affixed to it their signa- tures, and thus became a Congregational Church. Now it would perhaps have been the most natur- al, it is certainly the usual course, for those, who were already church-members, and had, before leaving England, entered into covenant, to have as- sociated themselves in the first instance, and, in vir- tue of their previous character, to have superintend- ed the formation of the new church. But in pur- suing another course, in determining, that ministers, church-members, and all others who might be desi- rous of becoming members of the church, should, at the outset, stand on the same ground, and should cooperate, upon an equal footing, in acquiring sever- 3S ally, and by their own act, the character and privi- leges of a church-member, they distinctly declared that they intended to erect their church upon the ba- sis, not of any powers transferred to them from other ecclesiastical bodies, but of those rights and facul- ties which men possess in themselves and originally. They asserted, and thus by their practice illustrated the principle, that a collection of individuals, volun- tarily associated, although previously possessed of no ecclesiastical character, and connected with no church, have in themselves all the powers which are necessary or desirable for the formation of a complete christian church. I repeat that our Fathers not only asserted this principle, but acted upon it, throughout the solemn work of laying the foundations of the Congregation- al Churches. In their capacity as christians they first marked out the course in which to proceed in forming themselves into a church. They then, hav- ing become a church, by a free election, appointed their Pastor, their Teacher, and their Ruling Elder, and, although the Pastor and Teacher elect had, as has been observed, exercised the powers of those offices in elevated and conspicuous spheres, before they left England, in order most implicitly to show that, in the newly formed church, they were to con- sider themselves as holding offices, and as invested with powers, which were wholly derived from elec- tion here, and not from previous ordination else- where, the brethren directed, that they should be in- ducted into their stations in the church, and receive 39 the pastoral character, by the imposition of the hands of one of their own number, the Ruling El- der. The faculties and privileges of office were thus emphatically declared to be founded upon a free election by the people, and to emanate directly from the electors. It was with reason that a con- temporary who had witnessed these proceedings, in writing to a friend, declared his approbation, in the following language. " Now, good Sir, I hope that you and the rest of God's people, with you, will say that here was a right foundation laid, and that these two blessed servants of the Lord came in at the door and not at the window.** Thus were Francis Higginson, Samuel Skelton, and after them, Roger Williams, and Hugh Peters, invested with the clerical office in the First Church. It is certain that this great principle was long pre- served in its integrity. When, forty- one years from the ordination of his father Francis, John Higginson was installed, the ceremony was performed by the laymen of the Congregation. Major Hawthorne, as- sisted by the deacons, inducted him to office by the imposition of their hands. The ministers of neigh- boring Churches were present merely as spectators and auditors. There is one very important point settled, so far as the authority of the first Congregational Church may be considered as decisive with respect to those which have proceeded from it, by the practice of our Fathers in this particular. By meeting and deliber- ating in the first instance, solely as christian be- 40 lievers, or as a congregation, and by designing and determining the character and form of the church, while acting in that capacity, they in reality declar- ed the essential, the primary and the ultimate sub- ordination of the church to the congregation. The church which they formed here was derived from the congregation, its modes of construction and of admission were arranged and settled by the congre- gation, that is, by the community which existed and acted before the church had been erected, or a sin- gle individual had been recognised as a church- member. It follows, as an undeniable inference, that the church must be regarded as necessarily dependant upon, and subordinate to, the congrega- tion, from which it was derived, and by which its form, character, and methods of procedure were originally determined. If we would adhere, there- fore, to the principles upon which our ecclesias- tical institutions were established, we must regard the church in this light ; we must, in short, admit that its title, Congregational Church, defines it with accuracy, and that it is a body included with- in, derived from, and, as a necessary consequence, dependant upon a congregation. II. The second principle which our Fathers es- tablished on the 6th of August, 1629, was the In- dependence of the Congregational Churches of all external jurisdiction. This principle is important beyond description or estimation. It was not only declared by the founders of this church, but, justice requires that it should be said, its whole history is 41 crowded with evidence, that it has been steadily and resolutely maintained to this day. It was declared at its foundation. The early writers inform us that, when Governor Bradford, with others, arrived during the solemnity of ordaining the first ministers, and it was proposed, that he should extend to the new church and its pastors, in the name of the christian brethren at Plymouth, the Right Hand of Fellow- ship, he was not permitted to discharge that interest- ing and friendly service, until it had first been pro- claimed, that no inference should ever be drawn from it, in support of the idea, that there was the least dependence whatever in this Church upon others, the least jurisdiction over it in any external body, or the least necessary connexion between it and other churches, wherever they might be. It is impossible to conceive of a clearer, or stronger declaration of entire independence, than that which was thus uttered by its founders, at the moment of establishing the Congregational Church. The principle of independency, as has just been said, has been maintained steadily and resolutely throughout the whole existence of this Christian So- ciety. Time and space would fail me, were I to attempt to describe all the instances which might be adduced in support of this assertion. Roger Wil- liams was chosen to succeed Francis Higginson, in opposition to the strong and repeated remonstrances of the Church in Boston, to which some of his pecu- liar principles had given offence. He and his wor- 5 42 thy colleague, Mr. Skelton, fearlessly exposed them- selves to the reproaches of the ministers of the colo- ny, by expressing their disapprobation of the insti- tution of a Pastoral Association. They predicted that it would give rise to a Presbytery, and they called upon the churches, if they valued their liber- ties, to resist the first movements towards such a tyranny. The institution, which alarmed these vig- ilant guardians of the independence of the Congre- gational Churches, still exists under the name of the Boston Association, and although, to the honor of its members be it spoken, it has never produced the results which were apprehended, the ministers of this Church, in opposing it, did not think and act without reason. They argued with the wisdom of philoso- phers, they looked forward with the vision of pro- phets. The step, which they reprobated, has always been the first step in the progress of spiritual domin- ation. It was by extensive associations, in the first instance of ministers, and then, of churches, that the primitive congregations were gradually despoiled of their freedom, and brought in captive to enlarge the dominions of hierarchies — to swell the power of Bishops and Popes. It has been by the means of them, that Presbyteries and Consociations, too often perverted into the worst forrris of aristocracy by which human society can be oppressed, have in more modern times risen into being. Roger Williams was faithfully and resolutely pro- tected by the people of this place, through years of 43 persecution from without ; and it was only by the persevering and combined efforts of all the other towns and churches that his separation and banish- ment were finally effected. The late learned histori- an of Salem, the Rev. Dr. Bentley, says with great justice of Mr. Williams, that " he was not afraid to stand alone for truth against the world. 5 ' It was his good fortune to find in John Endicott, and in many others of his congregation in Salem, kindred spirits, ready and willing to take the same noble and magnanimous stand. They adhered to him long and faithfully, and sheltered him from all assaults. And when at last he was sentenced, by the General Court, to banishment from the colony, on account of his principles, we cannot but admire the fidelity of that friendship, which prompted many of the mem- bers of his congregation to accompany him in his exile, and partake of his fortunes, when an outcast upon the earth. It was in the midst of winter that they were thus driven forth from the civilized world. Can you not, my hearers, contemplate in imagina- tion a deserted and destitute company of men, women, and children, struggling through the deep snows of an unexplored wilderness ? The storm is raging over their heads, bending the strong oak, swinging the lofty pine, and shaking from their branches a constant accumulation of the drifts, be- neath which they are almost buried from sight. — Chilled with the frosts, and worn down by fatigue, how slowly they make their way ! Who are they ? 44 They y the call of other churches, in no way directly connected with the question Bl issue, as it would he a violation of the liberties and rights of one, and, indeed, of both of the individuals engaged in any secular dispute or conflict, to compel them to acknowledge and submit to the decisions of an umpire not chosen di- rectly by themselves, but arbitrarily appointed by persons who have no legal power to act in the business, and who have no kind of connexion with them or with their controversy. See printed documents respecting the controversy between Mr. Fisk and some members of the First Church. 52 been fastened upon them, and to establish themselves again in the enjoyment of that independence, which their fathers and founders bequeathed to them as their rich and noble inheritance. It is impossible to describe or calculate all the benefits that would result from its establishment and observance. We can perhaps approach towards a conception of them, by reflecting upon the evils which have arisen from its neglect and violation. — More than half of the animosity, and more than half of the unhappiness, produced in New-England from the day of its settlement to this hour, have been oc- casioned by unnecessary interference, with the con- cerns of parishes, on the part of ministers and churches of other parishes. Ambitious and aspi- ring men have not been contented with the modest discharge of the duties which belong to the humble limits of a single congregation. They have sighed for a wider field, over which to stretch the sceptre of spiritual domination. They have gone out into other parishes, have taken them into their own keep- ing, have acquired a controlling influence over their ministers, and, too often, have compelled them to submit to their dictation, and act in subserviency to their designs. Whenever resistance has been offer- ed to their encroachments, the war-cry of heresy has been raised, and the whole country been shaken with the conflict, and torn with the strife. The unauthorised and absurd attempt has been made, and with too much success, to subject every single church, and every single minister, to the su- 53 perin tending care, and immediate jurisdiction of all the other churches and ministers combined. And these combinations have always been, at once, the theatre upon which a few master-spirits have exhib- ited, and the instrument by which they have exerted, an enormous and an irresponsible despotism in ec- clesiastical affairs. Thus have the churches of New-England, throughout their whole history, been the subjects, and the parishes the victims, of Con- gregational Cardinals, and of Presbyterian Popes. It is for the members of the congregations to check and remove this great evil. If they would be true to the principles and to the spirit of the Pilgrims — if they would vindicate and secure for their posterity that independence which is their rightful inheritance ; if they would preserve and perpetuate that blessing, which was the first their Fathers implored for them- selves and their descendants, when they knelt upon the rocky shore, with the stormy ocean, from which they had just escaped, behind them, and the dark and awful forest, in which they were to have their homes, and find their graves, before them, " freedom to worship God;" let them resolve to restore the Congregational Churches to their original indepen- dence and to Christian peace. Let them, in their respective religious societies, insist most zealously upon the sole management of their own affairs. Let them look upon that minister, whatever may be his denomination, however great may be his talents, who shall attempt to extend his pastoral care and authority beyond his own congregation, who shall 5i carry dissension and bitterness into parishes, to which he has no other call than the restless and im- moderate promptings of his own spiritual arrogance and ambition — let them look upon him, as upon a common violator of the order, and breaker of the peace of society. Let this be done, and the liberties of the churches will be rescued and secured. While the Christian minister should pray for the extension of the Redeemer's kingdom over the whole earth, and should remember in his supplications the entire family of man, he ought ever to bear in mind, that, as the pastor of a Congregational Church, he has no authority to exercise the powers of his office, except so far as courtesy and brotherly kindness may require, beyond the limits of his own congregation. To that, should his interests, affections, labors, and sense of responsibleness chiefly be confined. He should feel that he has no right to interfere, what- ever doctrines a neighboring minister may preach, whatever sentiments a neighboring congregation may entertain. If he is desirous of promoting the pro- gress of what he may deem to be the truth, by other means than his pulpit and his pastoral office afford him, the press of this free country is open to him, and he should occupy it upon the same principles, and enjoy, in the use of it, the same facilities, as every other citizen of the republic of letters. What a glorious day would dawn upon New-Eng- land, were all the parishes and ministers to act upon these principles ! Then indeed would the beneficent influences of the gospel be felt and seen throughout 55 the land ! Every family, every village, every city would be blessed by the religion of the Prince of Peace. Each congregation would be secure of the concentrated exertions, and undistracted zeal of its minister, and each minister, thus left to himself, would pursue the studies and duties of his profession and sphere, without hinderance, and in the exercise of a free mind. Uniformity of faith would at first, it is true, be lost ; if that can be said to be lost, which in reality has never been gained. But there is rea- son to believe that the truth would finally and speed- ily be reached. As the order and peace of the material universe result from " all nature's differ- ence," so the order and agreement of the intelligent creation would result from the infinitely various ex- ercises of minds severally acting in their original lib- erty. The clear and simple truth would proceed from the multiform shapes of human opinion, pre- cisely as the serene and translucent light constituting that " circular splendor which we call day," is pro- duced by an endless variety of shades of color, mingling and melting into a compound in which they each disappear. Or if differences of belief should still continue, they would not be productive of dis- cord. As the several distinct notes and tones of music swell the volume, and create the charm of its rich and melodious sounds, so diversified senti- ments and opinions, if it were not for the interfering and jarring passions of men, would contribute to a delightful harmony in the intellectual and moral world. 56 If ever this blessed period should come, and let us all pray that it may come speedily, then would the devout petition be answered, which in the days of our ancestors rose from every pious heart, and which we have repeated in their own words, in one of the Psalms which has now been sung — her peace would be restored to Jerusalem — And, if they, who have been gathered to their Fathers, were permitted to contemplate the affairs of earth, with what joy and gratitude would the founders of this Church look down, upon the long-deferred, but glorious fulfilment of their hopes, and designs, and prayers, in the wide diffusion, through innumerable churches, sprung from their efforts, and established upon their principles, of freedom, peace, and truth ! III. The last great principle impressed upon the Congregational Churches at their origin was this — that " while they take care, according to Apos- tolic injunction, that all things be done decently and in order, it is their duty not to impose any thing, by ivay of subscription or declaration of faith, upon those ivho desire admission to the oi*di- nances, ivhich may not conscientiously be complied with by sincere Christians of all denominations V * Although the founders of this Church were zeal- ous believers of that general system of doctrines, which, in their day as well as in our own, was call- ed Orthodoxy, they took care to frame their cove- nant without expressing in it their belief of that system, or of any of its parts. You will look in *See Appendix D. 57 vain through that admirable document for the hy- pothesis of the Athanasian Trinity, or the meta- physical speculations of Calvin. That covenant is a perpetual and a worthy monument of the wisdom and liberality of the noble men who adopted it 5 and it will forever demonstrate, in language which can- not be misunderstood, their adherence to the princi- ple which has just been defined. But your patience and my strength would fail, were I to enter more fully upon the discussion of this point. I submit it to the judgment of those who hear me, whether the spirit of the Gospel does not urge upon us all the observance of this principle, so conspicuously established at the formation of the churches of New-England? — whether the peace, tranquillity and edification of our parishes, of every sentiment, would not be greatly promoted, and per- manently secured by conforming in this particular to the example of our Fathers? " I speak as unto wise men — judge ye what I say." I have thus, my friends, endeavored to recover and explain the principles of the Congregational Churches. Whether those principles were founded in wisdom? — whether they are in conformity with the spirit of the Gospel? — whether they are favora- ble to the promotion of the kingdom of our Lord and Saviour upon the earth? — and whether they are adapted to the nature of man, viewed both as a member of civil society, and as a member of the Church of Christ? — are questions which we leave most cheerfully, and with the utmost confidence, to 8 58 the decision of the christian world. As for our- selves, we do not harbor a doubt, if the Congrega- tional Churches were to return to the principles which they inherited at their birth, so congenial are those principles with the religion of the New Testa- ment, and with the condition and reason of man, that their final diffusion among all churches would sooner or later be secured. But whether the day is near at hand, or is still far distant, when every worshipping assembly in Christendom shall be re- stored to that glorious liberty in which Christ has left them free, let it never be forgotten, that here, on this spot, where the Congregational Churches were founded, the great principles of christian indepen- dence and peace were in the beginning practised and proclaimed. The day, and the service, which are both nearly passed, cannot have failed to have made a deep im- pression on the minds of the members of this ancient religious community. In engaging in the duties be- longing to this Lecture, we have conformed to the precedent, which was established by those, who, a century ago, were connected with our Church and Society. We have obeyed the voice of their sum- mons, as it comes down upon us from their remote position through the long years which have since rolled away. In our turn we now transmit this commemorative observance on through the indefinite ages which are to come.* We, my friends, are en- joying, in independence and in peace, the privileges, •See Appendix E. 69 which were bequeathed to us by our first American ancestors, and which have been resolutely defended, and faithfully preserved in every generation. Let it be our care to perpetuate them. And as the periods shall successively arrive, which mark the revolution of a hundred years, may the voice of the Parent of the Congregational Churches here be heard, speak- ing to the far distant and widely separated genera- tions of her children. May she allure them to the paths of peace. May she arouse them to the pro- tection of their liberties. And while time is add- ing his centuries to her ) ^ars, and investing her with the increasing dignity of a more venerable age, may she bloom on forever, in the possession of that heavenly beauty which was stamped upon her youthful form. By this whole assembly the occasion must havo been regarded with interest. Our minds and hearts have gone back to the days of our Fathers. Wo have engaged together in the affecting duty of calling to mind their virtues and principles. We have raised our voices, to their God and our God, in the same language, in which they were wont to express their gratitude and devotion. We have reached forth the bond which unites us with them on the one hand, on the other with a distant posterity. The associations which crowd into our souls are indeed most solemn. We have been celebrating an occasion, which, on its previous occurrence, was observed by men, who, it is probable, were all mouldering in their graves when wo came into ex- 60 istence ! And where, when it next returns, where shall we he, who are here assembled? Time, in the revolutions of the seasons, will have crumbled the very stones, raised by faithful affection to mark where our dust may repose. The musing and con- templative, as they bend over their worn surfaces, will endeavor, perhaps in vain, to decipher the language which sorrow and love may have written there. Our spirits will have been restored to Him who gave them. Oh, how short and fleeting is the life of man ! We look backwards, and the only objects which meet our view are the crowded tombs of our ancestors ! We look forward — and, almost at our feetj we see our own opening to receive us ! Beyond, there is nothing disclosed to mortal vision, except those summits of time raised by occasions like this. We see their lofty peaks, lifted dimly, one after another, along the interminable space, with centuries of untried being lying shrouded in dark- ness between them. Yes, soon must frail man die. But there is a sense in which it may be said, that he can rise above the reach of death itself. He can secure an immortal existence on the earth as well as in heaven. His good works and good designs survive the de- struction of his corporeal fabric. They never per- ish. Each individual in this assembly can put forth a benign and auspicious influence, which will spread wider and sink deeper, throughout all time. And this is in reality an extension of existence — this is life— it is a higher and worthier life than that which is 61 « spent in the flesh. It withstands, without feeling it, the shock which scatters the frame back into dust. It floats uninjured on the bosom of that tide, which will overwhelm the name in oblivion. Our Fathers are now living a life of beneficence and glory around and in the midst of us. They live in the precious institutions and principles which they established and transmitted. If we would share with them, this their continued existence — if we too would live in the ages to come, after our bodies have been dis- solved and our very names forgotten, it is for us to uphold those institutions and maintain those princi- ples — it is for us to cherish them, and pass them on unimpaired. Let us then, by defending vigilantly liberty of religious opinion and worship, and by avoiding conscientiously encroachment on the rights of others, let us discharge the duty which our earliest ancestors here enjoined upon us, let us em- ulate their glorious example, let us carry out their wise designs ; thus shall we participate with them in that sublime reward allotted them on earth, the esteem, admiration, and gratitude of ourdesend- ants to the latest times; and when the periods of time, and time itself, are brought to a close, we shall be permitted to unite with them, and with all others who may have secured the approbation and promoted the glory of God by improving the con- dition of his children, in the eternal enjoyment of the still nobler rewards of a better world. And now, to the same Almighty and All-wise Being who guided and protected the Fathers, we 62 commit, with cheerful and devout confidence, the children. May all the generations, which are to come after us, as they move over this field of their existence, be fellow-workers with God in advancing the cause of his truth, and the kingdom of his Son upon earth. As the centuries succeed each other in their slow and solemn procession, may they all bear testimony to the rapid and triumphant progress of that holy religion, which is at last to bless every family of man. And when the churches on earth are to be gathered to the church above, and the Saviour shall come again to receive his own, may he lead forth, along the celestial fields, from this and every other temple made with hands, a glorious host of redeemed and adoring spirits, to throng the blessed courts of that temple not made with hands, eternal in the Heavens. APPENDIX. APPENDIX A— p. 3. Ab there is some misapprehension and diversity of opinion respecting' the right mode of conforming dates in Old Style to dates in New Style, it may not be improper to present to the reader that view of the subject which induced us to adopt the principle that 11 days should be added to the former, thus considering the 6th of August, O. S. to fall upon the 17th of August, N. S. The Ancients were unacquainted with the precise length of a year. They founded their reckoning entirely upon lunar phenomena. 30 days were allowed to each month ; and V2 months were considered as com- posing 1 year. Consequently their year was only 360 days; and an error of more than 5 days occurred in each year. It is easy to imagine the effect, which such a constantly increasing difference between the natural and the computed year would in a short period produce. It de- ranged all the anniversary festivals, and introduced doubt and difficulty into every kind of calculation. In the time of Julius Cesar such con- fusion had arisen in the application of the names of seasons, months, and days, that it became quite intolerable. The Winter months were thrown back into the Autumn, and the Spring months into the depths of Winter. He undertook to remove the error, and institute a correct measure of the year. Acting under the direction of a celebrated mathe- matician, he ordained in the first place that one particular year should be extended to 445 days. This extinguished the difference which had then accumulated between the actual and the computed year — and in order to prevent for the future the accumulation of such a difference, he endeavored to ascertain the precise length of a year. This he conclud- ed to be 365 d. 6 h. He therefore ordained, that 365 days should be considered a year, and, in order to take up the extra 6 hours, that 1 day should be added to every 4th year. This was the origin of leap year. The measure thus established has since been called the Julian year. It is obvious that if 365 d. 6 h. were the exact measure of a year, the method adopted by Julius Csesar would have answered the purpose pre- cisely and forever. 64 But a year is not quite 365 d. 6h. — of course, a difference gradually arose again between the real and the computed time. A. D. 1582, this difference had amounted to 10 days. Pope Gregory XIII ordered 10 days to be dropped from the supputation of that year. His order was obeyed throughout the Catholic countries. To guard against the re- currence of a difference, he directed that 3 leap years in each period of 400 years, should be converted into common years, thus dropping 3 days in each 400 years. And in order to determine luhen they should be dropped, he ordained that every centenary year which can be divided by 4 without leaving a remainder below the hundreds, that is that 1600, 2000, 2400, 2800, &c. should continue to be leap years, but that all the other centenary years, such as 1700, 1800, 1900, 2100, &c. should be converted into common years of 365 days only. This is the Gregorian computation of the years. It has been adopted in every Christian country except Russia. Great Britain adopted it throughout her dominions, A. D. 1752. The differ- ence had then amounted to 11 days — ]1 days were therefore cancelled from the calendar of that year by act of Parliament. In this country, and wherever the Gregorian year, or New Style, had been adopted, the year 1800 was accordingly not accounted a leap year. By converting three leap years during 400 years into common years, that is by drop- ping 3 days during that time, we shall not be required to add more than 11 days to dates in Old Style to bring them into New Style, for many centuries to come, although we shall have to do it, or else shall have to drop another day from the calendar at last, as I shall soon show. In Russia, however, the case is different. There the Julian year is still observed — no leap year is ever intermitted, of course the difference which Pope Gregory corrected has still gone on increasing, nearly at the rate of 1 day in 100 years. The Russians therefore with propriety- add 1 day, to the difference between their style which is old, and ours which is new, every 100 years. But if we, in imitation of them, also add 1 day every hundred years, to the difference between our dates in Old and New Style, it is plain that we shall be frustrating the design which we aim to accomplish, by changing 3 leap years in 4 centuries into common years. The time will come, should the world last so long, when we shall be required to add one day more to the number we have dropped, or to the -difference which we allow between dates in Old and New Style. It is easy to ascertain that time with precision. The Julian year was 365 d. 6 h. The true measure of a year, accord- ing to the latest observations, is 365 d. 5 h. 48' 45£". The unintermitted observance of a leap year every 4 years, would, as has been remarked G5 before, have answered the purpose precisely, had the measure of the Julian year been perfectly correct. But it is found to have been too much by 11. 14j . This error accumulates to 1 day exactly in 12* years — 1 day therefore is required to be dropped every T2> years. Pope Gregory dropped 3 days every 400 years. This does not perfectly answer the end proposed. V28 multiplied by 3 becomes 3S4. The difference between 400 and 3*4 u K> — 1»"» years therefore remain in each 400 years unaffected by the Gregorian correction. When, in the successive revolutions of periods of 400 years, these periods of 16 years shall have amounted to 198, then 1 day more is to be added to the dif- ference of styles, or dropped from the calendar of those nations which use the New Style, but not before. It is ascertained by the following equation when that period will arrive. 16 : 400 :: 138 : 3200 ARer the lapse of 3200 years, from A. D. 1588; that is. A. P. 47- J. I more day is to be dropped from our calendar, or 1 day more is to be added to the difference of styles, making 1'2 instead of 11. There is one method by which it can be demonstrated that the l?th of August, 1829, corresponds with the «»th of Aug The exact length of a year, according to Playfair's Chronolo, By multiplying this by 100, we obtain the number of days. &c. in a century. By dividing the days in this result by 7. we obtain the num- ber of weeks, days, &c. in a cei. d h 305 100 ' 15 50 w 1 ■ 1 " There are then in a ccn: eeks. and ."> days over. If we know, therefore, on which day of the week a century begins, we can deter- mine in what day of the week it terminates. The records say that the First Century Lecture was delivered on Wednesday. When the 9217 weeks are accomplished, we are again brought to Wednesday. But 5 days remain to be added before the century will be exhausted. — By adding 5 days to Wednesday we are brought to Monday — of course a Century which commenced on Wednesday, will come to its close on Monday. The 17th of August. 1?29, fell on Monday. The 17th of August, N. S. 182 ierefore the Centennial d ponding to the 6th of Aug. 6th, 1729. The First Century Lecture was on Wednesday. _ 171 . 1829. The Second Century Lecture was on Monday. Aug. 171 The Third Centurv Lecture will be on Saturday. 9 66 APPENDIX B— p. 20. On the last leaf of this little volume, the substance of its contents is compressed in the following brief synopsis. It is worthy of being pre- sented to every reader, as an excellent and comprehensive code of rules for the regulation of the heart and life. Whosoever would live long and Blessedly, let him observe these Following Rules, by which He shall attain to that Which he desireth. p. Let thy Thoughts Talk ! r Divine, Awful, Godly. Little, Honest, True. Words Profitable, Holy, Charitable. Manners Grave, Courteous, Cheerful. Dyet Apparel Will - be ^ Temperate, Convenient, Frugal. Sober, Neat, Comely. Constant, Obedient, Ready. Sleep Moderate, Quiet, Seasonable. Prayers Recreation Short, Devout, Often, Fervent. Lawful, Brief, Seldom. Memory Of Death, Punishment Glory. APPENDIX C— p. 28. The following letter from the widow of Francis Higginson, acknow- ledging the generosity of which her son makes grateful mention, will be read with interest. It is from a copy in the possession of Wm. Gibbs, Esq. of Salem, a gentleman to whom I am under many obligations for his kindness in communicating information respecting our early history. He is honorably devoting a life of independent leisure to the collection of facts and documents illustrative of the character, and condition of our Fathers. The usefulness and beneficence of such labors will be more 67 and more appreciated, as, in the lapse of years, the tendency to con- template primitive events and manners, and to indulge in historical as- sociations, grows stronger and spreads wider among us. Mrs. Higginson's letter to Governor Winthrop, signifying - her ac- ceptance of compensation"* offered her: dated January 26, 1030. — From the original in the possession of one of her lineal descendants. " EMANUEL, f " Worshipful Sir, " My loue and seruice to you remembered, and to the rest of the gentlemen, with many thanks unto you all for your bountiful dealing with me, which is aboue my expectations, yet not aboue my necessities. Of your two proffers I accept with all thankfulness the two kine, and the house, J and that money in Mr Codington's hand. But seeing I am to [haue] my prouisions when the ships come, and then to haue many debts to pay for necessary prouisions which my husband bought, my request is, that you would be pleased to appoint me some of the money which lesser men are to pay : for I think that they did so respect my husband, as that they will pay it me. But if not, I am thankful for what you haue done. And so, good Sir, I pray remember my thankfulness to Sir Richard and to Mr. Dudlc. And so I leaue you to him that neuer leaueth his, and rest u Yours to command, "ANN HIGGISON. " January this 26 : 1030." APPENDIX D.— p. ■ «. FIRST COVENANT OF THE FIRST CHURCH. " We Covenant with our Lord, and one with another; and we do bind ourselves in the presence of God, to walk together in all his ways, according as he is pleased to reveal himself unto us in his blessed word * So endorsed by the Governor. t A form of salutation, with which it was formerly usual to commence letters. t By an original deed preserved among the files of the Quarter Court, in this town, it appears that this house was subsequently occupied by the Rev. -Roger Williams, and by him, upon Mrs. Higginson's order, sold to -Mr. " John Woolcott," of Salem. Woolcott by a deed dated Nov. 21, 1G35, conveyed it (styling it his ''misted") to William Lord, cutler : Mrs. Higgin- son then dwelling in Charles Town. The exact situation of the house is not known ; but it appears that it must have been very near, if it did not ad- join the lot on which the meeting house stood. 68 of truth ; and do explicitly, in the name and fear of God, profess and protest to walk as folio vveth, through the power and grace of our Lord Jesus Christ. " We avouch the Lord to be our God, and our selves to be his people, in the truth and simplicity of our spirits. " We give our selves to the Lord Jesus Christ, and the word of his grace, for the teaching, ruling, and sanctifying of us in matters of wor- ship and conversation, resolving to cleave unto him alone for life and glory, and to reject all contrary ways, canons, and constitutions of men in his worship. " We promise to walk with our brethren, with all watchfulness and tenderness, avoiding jealousies and suspicions, back-bitings, censurings, provokings, secret risings of spirit against them ; but in all offences to follow the rule of our Lord Jesus, and to bear and forbear, give and for- give, as he hath taught us. "In public or private, we will willingly do nothing* to the offence of the Church ; but will be willing to take advice for our selves and ours, as occasion shall be presented. " We will not in the congregation be forward either to show our own gifts and parts in speaking or scrupling, or there discover the weakness or failings of our brethren; but attend an orderly call thereunto, know- ing how much the Lord may be dishonored, and his gospel, and the profession of it, slighted by our distempers and weaknesses in public. "We bind ourselves to study the advancement of the gospel in a^ truth and peace ; both in regard to those that are within or without ; no way slighting our sister churches, but using their counsel, as need shall be ; not laying a stumbling-block before any, no, not the Indians, whose good we desire to promote ; and so to converse, as we may avoid the very appearance of evil. "We do hereby promise to carry ourselves in all lawful obedience to those that are over us, in Church or Commonwealth, knowing how well pleasing it will be to the Lord, that they should have encouragement in their places, by our not grieving their spirits through our irregularities. " We resolve to approve ourselves to the Lord in our particular call- ings ; shunning idleness as the bane of any State ; nor will we deal hardly or oppressingly with any, wherein we are the Lord's stewards. " Promising also unto our best ability to teach our children and ser- vants the knowledge of God, and of His Will, that they may serve him also ; and all this not by any strength of our own, but by the Lord Christ ; whose blood we desire may sprinkle this our Covenant made in His name." 69 At a very early period this covenant was displaced by another. It was restored and renewed at the ordination of John Higginson in 1660. In the course of time, it was again superseded, and for many years has not been used in the church. It would have been once more adopted a few years ago, when the covenant was changed, had it not been for the allusions which it contains to circumstances existing at the time of its introduction, but which have long since entirely disappeared from our condition and customs. Although it is not at present in use, wc still cherish it with reverence. We look upon it as a precious relic — as our charter of toleration and liberality ; we admire its truly christian spirit, and we consider the principles of duty which it expresses as worthy of our adoption and observance. The following extract from our records, will shew the foundation upon which the church now rests. " At a meeting of the Brethren of the Church, held at the house of the Senior Pastor, Nov. 28th, and continued by adjournment to Dec. 1st, 1S27, the following Report, respecting admission to the Ordinances, was taken into consideration : " The Committee appointed by the First Church in Salem, to consider the expediency of adopting new forms of Declaration and Covenant, in- stead of those heretofore used, preparatory to Admission to Baptism and the Lord's Supper, have attended to the subject, and now submit the following Repokt. " As a free admission to the Ordinances of Baptism and the Lord's Supper is the right and privilege of all sincere professing Christians, it appears to be the duty of the Cliurch, in taking care, according to Apos- tolic injunction, that 'all tilings he done decently and in order,' not to impose any thing, by way of subscription, or declaration of faith, upon those who desire admission to these Ordinances, which may not be con- scientiously complied with by sincere Christians of all denominations. "The Committee, therefore, recommend, that instead of the form of declaration, heretofore used, preparatory to administering the Ordi- nance of Baptism to adults, or to the children of such as are not in full communion with the Church, the following form be adopted — viz : " Wc believe in Jesus Christ, as the Messiah; and we receive his religion, as the rule of our lives, and as a revelation from God." " The Committee also recommend, that instead of the form of Cove- nant, heretofore used, preparatory to admission into full Communion with the Church, the following form be adopted — viz : " We believe in Jesus Christ, as the Messiah ; and wc receive his religion as the rule of our lives, and as a revelation from God. " We have a deep sense of the imperfection of our past services, and of our need of improvement ; and we arc desirous of performing all our 70 religious duties, and of using all the means of grace provided for us. " With such views and feelings, we enter into the Communion of Dis- ciples of Christ, as members of his visible Church. " It is our earnest wish and prayer, that we may imitate his example, imbibe his spirit, and obey his precepts ; and that by walking together in the fellowship of the Gospel here, we may become prepared for ad- mission hereafter into the Church of the redeemed in Heaven." All which is respectfully submitted, D. A. WHITE, ) SETH LOW, V Committee. JOHN STONE, > " After mature deliberation, this Report was unanimously accepted, and the forms of declaration, therein proposed, adopted, to be used in future in all cases of admission to the Ordinances of Baptism and the Lord's Supper respectively." APPENDIX E— p. 58. Records of all the circumstances attending the Second Century Lec- ture, which would probably be interesting to our successors, will be carefully preserved, one in the Church Books, and another in the ar- chives of the Essex Historical Society. The following is the order of Exercises at the Second Century Lecture, August 17, (N. S.) PSALM CXXIL— Tune, St. Martins. A Song of Degrees. I joy'd in them that said to me, Let's at the Lord's house meet. 2 O thou Jerusalem, within Thy gates shall stand our feet. 3 Jerusalem is builded up, Into a city frame : Both beautiful and uniform, And compact is the same. 4 Whither the tribes, the tribes of Jah, To Isra'l's witness go : That they unto Jehovah's name Their thankfulness may show. 5 Because the thrones of judgment there, Established remain : The thrones that do unto the house Of David appertain. 71 C Pray for Jerusalem her peace, They prosper that love thee. 7 Peace in thy walls, thy palaces In them let safety be. 8 Both for my brethren and my friends, Peace be in thee say I. 9 I'll for our God Jehovah's house Seek thy prosperity. PRAYER, BY REV. JOHN PRINCE, LL. D. SENIOR PASTOR OF THE FIRST CHURCH. PSALM CVII— 1 to 8.— Tines, China and Bradford. [The first, second, fifth and sixth stanza^ were sung to tin; tune of China, the third and fourth, to the tune of Uradford.] Qod $ Goodness to TwoeUers. With thanks unto lln: Lord con: BecatlN that gOOa 1 is he : Became his loving Kindnesses Last to eternity. 2 So say the Lord's redecin'd, whom bought He hath from en'mies" hands. [I And from tin; east and west hath brought, From south and northern lands. 4 In desert stray d. in desart way No dwelling place they find. 5 They hungry were, and thirsty they, Their souls within them piu'd. • I Then they did to Jehovah cry, When they were in distress : Who did them set at liberty Out of their anguishes. 7 In such a way as was most right, He led them forth also ; That to a city where they might Inhabit, they might go. 8 O that men praise Jehovah would For his great goodness then, And for his wonders manifold Unto the sons of men. 72 LECTURE, BY REV. CHARLES W. UPHAM, JUNIOR PASTOR OF THE FIRST CHURCH. PSALM XLIV— Verses 1, 2, 6, 7, 8.— Tune, Missionary. To the chief Musician, for the sons of Korah. We with our ears have heard, O God, Our fathers have us told, What works thou vvroughtest in their days, Ev'n in the times of old. 2 How thy hand drave the heathen out, And planted them thou hast : How thou the people did'st afflict,. And out thou did'st them cast. 6 Because it is not in my bow That I affiance have : Nor is it any sword of mine, That shall at all me save. 7 But thou hast from our foes us sav'd, And haters put to shame : 8 In God we all the day do boast, And praise for aye thy name. PRAYER, BY REV. JAMES FLINT, D. D. PASTOR OF THE SECOND CHURCH IN SALEM. A Psalm of Praise. First Metre. Shout to Jehovah all the earth. 2 With joyfulness the Lord serve ye : Before his presence come with mirth. 3 Know that Jehovah God is he. It's he that made us, and not we, His folk, his pasture's sheep also. 4 Into his gates with thanks come ye, With praises to his court-yard go. 5 Give thanks to him, bless ye his name, Because Jehovah he is good : His mercy ever is the same, His truth throughout all ages stood. BENEDICTION. Mil FURNESS'S DEDICATION DIS( <)l IJSi: u i .11 in i: ADDRESS I. \VI\(i or THE CORNER STONE James Kay, .Tun. $f Co. Printers, Library Street, near Fifth, Philadelphia. *7 DISCOURSE, PREACHED AT THE DEDICATION FIRST CONGREGATIONAL UNITARIAN CHURCH, PHILADELPHIA. NOVEMBER 5, 1828. RY WILLIAM HENRY FURNESS. N JifitiaTirlphuT : PUBLISHED FOR THE FIRST CONGREGATIONAL tTNITARIAN CHURCH. 1828. DISCOURSE 1 (OR. III. 1G. KNOW Vi: NOT THAT V F. ARE TNI - . TEMPLE OF C.oI> The act of dedication which we have now assembled to perforin is perfectly simple and natural. It consists in a solemn recognition of the purposes for which this building is in future to be used. This house is hence- forth consecrated not on account of any mysterious sanc- tity communicated to its walls by our present services, but simply as it shall answer the end lor which it has been erected. That end 18 a purely spiritual one. You have not reared this structure merely to gratify your tasie or to display your wealth. Nor have you ever sup- posed that any pile of wood and stone, however costly, could be, in itself and for its own sake, pleasing in the sight of Him who is here to be worshipped. Your views have been, I trust, altogether more enlarged. In the erection of this edifice you have had regard to the best interests of our nature, — to the grand cause of human goodness; and it is your aim to help forward the advancement of the world in all that is excellent and happy. This out- ward and visible temple has been reared for the sake of that inner sanctuary, that temple not made with hands, which is in the human soul, and where only He who is a pure and perfect spirit, and whose service consists in the constant exercise of kind affections and good principles, can be truly worshipped. And how is this spiritual object, the consecration of the human mind to the love and service of the Creator, to be advanced by this house ? What value is this place to possess among the means of our virtue and improve- ment 9 We expect no miraculous, no mystical influences to descend upon us within these walls. We do not ima- gine that by merely coming hither regularly we shall be any the more acceptable to God. Far from us be that delusion which has so extensively prevailed, and under which men please themselves with thoughts of security and mercy, simply because they go statedly to a certain spot and engage in a few mechanical observances. The good which this building is intended to do is real, and the mode in which it is to be done, plain and rational. It is by the salutary impressions here to be made, the elevated feelings here to be inspired, the virtuous prin- ciples here to be confirmed, in short, it is by the truths here to be dispensed and contemplated, that this house becomes the house of God — the gate of heaven. What now are the truths here to be taught ? What are the views which are to be inculcated from this place 9 This question suggests the topics which befit the pre- sent occasion. It will be my purpose therefore to state, as briefly and distinctly as I can, the main views of reli- gion to which this place is devoted, and then to enume- rate the principal reasons why we have preferred these views to all others. Some statement of this kind, our peculiar circumstan- ces as a religious society plainly require. We are re- garded with a feeling of distrust and prejudice. We be- long to a denomination of Christians every where spoken against. And we owe it to the large and respectable community of which we are a part — that it may be dis- abused of all unhappy prejudices; we owe it to our- selves — that we may not be deprived of the great bene- fits accruing from the sympathy and countenance of our fellowmen; we owe it to God — that his truth may triumph, to declare our opinions and the grounds upon which we maintain them. Let our religious views be fully known, and that mass of prejudice which exists against us will soon be penetrated and removed. It is not what we are in religion, but what we are called, that pro- duces all the excitement among our brethren. It is not our Opinions that cause us to be objects of suspicion, for they are but very imperfectly known. The names we bear, these, like words of magic, conjure up in many a mind images of fear, frightful shapes that associate them- selves with us and with our opinions. It is no matter whether the terms by which we are designated be un- derstood, whether they have any definite meaning at- tached to them ; they need only to be repeated, as they have been and are, with a look and tone of pity or ab- horrence, and then they become the symbols of some- thing dreadful, and they to whom they are applied are looked upon as actuated by some malignant influence. Now let our opinions, what we are in religious profession, be thoroughly known. Let us use every fair opportunity of bringing men acquainted with our views, and opposi- tion of every sort will die away. I have unlimited con- fidence in the power of Truth. Only let her be seen, and every form of error shall vanish from before her, and the human mind will throw itself into her immortal embraces. I. We set apart this house to the teaching of that form of Christian faith which describes the one God as 8 strictly one person, of supreme, unequalled and unrival- led divinity, and infinitely exalted above all other beings, the perfect mind, the almighty creator and everlasting possessor of all things*. He has made man, not " for the glory of his sovereign power," but to glorify his benev- olencef . In relation to his intelligent offspring, the appellation of ' Father' by which we are encouraged to address him does but feebly express the tenderness of his love. To this great and good being we consecrate this building which our hands have reared. Hither would we come to have our minds filled with the thoughtof his perfections, impressed with asense of his indescribable goodness, to worship and adore him not because he needs any thing at our hands, but because by the frequent con- templation of infinite purity we ourselves shall become pure. Here may the one God, the Father, receive our undivided homage and be made the supreme object of our affections, and then this ground will be holy indeed. We dedicate this house to the solemn purposes of religion, believing Jesus Christ to be not the supreme God, but the great teacher whom the father sanctified and sentj; the anointed of God and his beloved son in respect of that moral resemblance w 7 hich he bore to the Deity, and unto which when men attain they become children of the Most High§. We receive him as the appointed revealer of the divine will, and the brightest manifestation ever accorded to the world of the divine glory. From him, from his spirit and character, we gather such conceptions of the Deity as nature in her * Deut. vi. 4. xxxii. 39. Zech. xiv. 9. Matt. xix. 17. John, xvii. 3. 1 Cor. viii. 4. 6. 1 Tim. ii. 5. Eph. iv. 6. t 1 John,iv. 8. + John, v. 19. 30. Matt, xxviii. 13. Acts, ii. 22. lCor.xv.28. John, viii. 42. x. 36. § Matt. v. 41,45. 1 John, iii. 1. sublimest scenes never suggests and reason in her farthest advances has never reached. We regard his life, his instructions, his sufferings and his death in one simple light. He died for the same purpose for which he had liv- ed and taught, not to satisfy the divine justice — not to affect God, but to convince the understanding and com- mand the affections of man, and so to bind him to the love and service of the truth. Here, while we believe he was dependent on the Father for all his powers, we would receive his instructions as the commandments of God*, as the way to life everlasting. Here would we assemble to study his words and write them on our hearts, to gaze at his example and commemorate his love. We consecrate this spot to the holy spirit. And we understand by the holy spirit not a distinct personf, but the power of the Father, particularly as if is exercised in the spiritual world. God is all in all. We discern his presence in the external works of nature, but he is re- vealed in the spiritual system of things so much the more fully, that here we may be said to perceive God himself, the very spirit of God. All holy emotions and good impulses, as they result from affections which he has cgn- stituted to be what they are, we refer to him as their author. They arc the operations and influences of his spirit. Here may tiny be found for ever, pervading the hearts of sincere and humble worshippers. We dedicate this house to the presence and power of the holy spirit, the spirit of truth, of peace and of love. And, my brethren, whenever we assemble here and become con- scious of holy emotions and pious resolves, we should regard them as the indications of the divine presence, the motions of the divine spirit within. Then how hal- * John xii. 49, 50. t 1 <^or. ii. 11. 10 lowed will be the spot, where we are accustomed to feel the Deity in our souls ! We set apart this place to the inculcation of those views of human duty which imply the moral ability of man without any metaphysical reservations. We would hold it as a first and sacred principle, that if man is able to do any thing, he is able to do good and be good. And we would have the good dispositions here to be felt and the good purposes here to be formed, encouraged and confirmed by the consciousness, that as we are en- dowed with sensibility to admire, so do we possess the capacity of imitating all that is excellent and acceptable. Here too would we have it ever proclaimed to those who have wandered from God and disregarded his laws, that if they will forsake the evil and cleave unto the good, their sins will be forgotten and their pardon will be sure # . Here would we announce it as the grand prin- ciple by which God administers his government and man should guide his conduct, that happiness here and here- after, the rewards of this life and the life to come, will be in strict accordance with our works. I have now stated very briefly the religious views to the establishment and diffusion of which this house is appropriated. We solemnly devote it to the purposes of religion, believing in " the one God, the Father," — in Jesus Christ as the appointed messenger of God, " ex- alted by him to be a prince and saviour," — in the holy spirit, as the power of the Deity displayed in the consti- tution and energies of the soul, in the moral ability of man, and the eternity of moral distinctions. In declaring, as we now do most plainly, that we infi- nitely prefer these views to all other forms of faith, let + Ezek. xviii. 11 it not to be supposed that we wish to see the opinions of others suppressed at any rate, or that we do not cherish the most cordial good will towards our fellow Christians. I am not going to vaunt our charity, but to tell the plain truth. We do hope, I confess, to see all error put down — down for ever, and the truth set up gloriously: and there is no doubt, if this hope were accomplished, that there would be sympathies between us and our brethren which do not and cannot exist now. But then we cannot for our lives discern but one way in which this desire is to be fulfilled. If all error is to be over- thrown, and truth is to triumph, it ran only be by per- mitting — nay, by encouraging in every possible way, by adjuring every individual man to come forward and de- clare distinctly and defend fearlessly what seems to him to be the truth. We are, one and all, from our very nature, liable to delusion and mistake. We have no miraculous illumination to expect, nor will any sober man pretend to it. We are all in the same condition of imperfection. Now how shall any of us who think w<_- have the truth — how shall we be sure, how shall we know, that we have it '? If their is Bueh a thinu as cer- tainty in matters of religion, it must be attained as it is attained in every thing else. And how do men arrive at certainty in other things ? Why. by the labours and efforts of many, by sending out a thousand eager minds to search for the truth. The domains of human science have been tilled with free and active labourers, and they have never been disturbed, except when an insane big- otry has rushed in and dared to seal the lips and arrest the steps of the inquirer. Thus the grandest results have been reached. Treasures of knowledge have been amassed. And the manner in which so much has been acquired is as manifest as the acquisition. Although every 12 mind is more or less liable to err, — and if the task of dis- covering all the truth that the human race thirsts after were imposed upon a single individual, however highly gifted, we might sit down and fold our arms in despair, — yet every thing may be expected from the labours of many, because there is a vast diversity in the mental constitution of men. Different minds see things in dif- ferent lights. One detects what escapes the eye of an- other. And if you call in many to the consideration of any subject, you may be sure that all the arguments and all the objections that bear upon the case will be gathered up. If you are seeking the truth in any department of human knowledge, encourage in others a frank avowal of what they conceive to be the truth. Collect all the in- tellectual power within your reach and bring it to act freely, and then if there is such a thing as satisfaction, it will be found. Consider now how matters stand with regard to reli- gion. Here is a volume purporting to contain a com- munication from God to man. How shall we know that it really is what it claims to be *? But supposing this ques- tion to be settled, as it is among all those who call them- selves Christians, how shall we know what is the nature of this communication °l One man finds-one thing in the Scriptures, and another, another, — and a third reads them differently from both. And they are all very confident that they are right. Now how shall it be settled who has the truth or whether any of us have it? By free discus- sion. By gathering the minds of men, unawed, chain- less, around the great subject. And then as we severally occupy different points of view, it will be seen under all its aspects, and its true measure and import will be attain- ed. When I recollect that the concern is most momen- tous, that it involves the soul's best good — the welfare of 13 the world — mankind's dearest hopes ; when I consider the Being whose character and will we are seeking to discover — the eternity into whose depths we would look — all the poor pride of opinion dies away within me, and I hear a voice — it is the voice of the spirit of Religious Liberty — saying, 'Cry, cry aloud unto all orders and de- nominations of men, and, in the name of God and for the sake of their own souls, bid them search and prove all things, and avow their conclusions and defend them with- out fear.' What matters it who finds the truth, if the truth is only found? What is the glory of its discovery to the rapture of its possession ? It is as much for our interest as our fellow Christians conceive it to be for theirs, that they should state and maintain by all fair means what they believe to be the truth. If their views are correct, then their fidelity to them will be the necessary means of establishing their correctness. If on the other hand we are right, the stouter the error that comes against the truth, the more signal her triumph, the more ex- tended her glory. It is scarcely necessary that I should have wandered thus far from the proposed order of my discourse to il- lustrate the spirit in winch we would hold our peculiar views, were it not apparent, after all the explanation of the simple principles of religious freedom to which the world has listened, that men still find a difficulty in un- derstanding how zeal and charity can dwell together in the same bosom — how a man can be warmly attached to his own views and at the same time kindly disposed to- wards every fair effort that may be made in favour of opposite opinions. The charity which we would culti- vate is no inexplicable feeling, and, I trust, no hollow pretension. As we seek the truth, and as we must be conscious that our own views, however warmly held. 3 14 have been formed under a liability to error, we have one interest with all those who give us reason to believe that they cherish the same feeling, whatever their particular opinions may be. There is a fellowship between them and us, in comparison with which the ties of sect, of creeds, and articles, and written formulas are as the dead letter to the undying spirit — as matter to mind. It is a fellowship which no difference of opinion can dis- turb, no distance of space or time destroy. It gathers into one glorious company all the real lovers of truth of all time, — from among all people, nations and lan- guages. I cannot yet quit this topic without a word or two more. Although the doctrine of religious liberty is so plain, and it is so much for the interest of every deno- mination of Christians to cling to it, it is important to observe that there is a spirit abroad directly opposed to it. And it becomes us, it becomes every one who cares for the truth and for liberty, to watch that spirit closely. It shows itself in every effort which is made to intimi- date the minds of men — to scare them away from the examination of any particular opinions, in every dispo- sition which is evinced to prevent them from reading what others have written and from hearing what others have to say. What is this spirit but the same that in former times manifested itself in still grosser violations of common justice; that was not satisfied with overpower- ing men's minds by denunciations of future woe, by ap- pealing to their religious fears, but aimed also to visit them with the swift vengeance of the temporal power whenever they ventured to think differently from the es- tablished way. And to what but the same unhallowed practices would this spirit lead now, were it allowed to strengthen itself again 9 It would bring back ages of 15 ignorance, ages of mental and political servitude. But not to mention the infringement of the sacred rights of the mind with which it is chargeable, are they who cherish it at all aware, how directly it is calculated to injure their own cause and ruin their own best hopes? You are in pursuit of the truth. When you seek to ter- rify your fellow-men from going in a certain direction in opinion, how do you know but that you are shutting out their souls and your own from the ways of light and glory 9 'Ah! but we are convinced that we are right,' you say, ' and if we were to consent that what we consider erroneous views should have as fair a hear- ing as wc give to correct opinions, the former would become as prevalent as the latter.' What ■ miserable idea you must have of the truth ! Is it so, that truth and error are so little distinguishable? How then do you happen to be so confident ? Be assured that if they are freely and closely examined, as they never have been and never will be except where perfect freedom of mind is es- tablished, that truth will excel in beauty and power every thing that is opposed to it as much as the unmeasured dome of the heavens transcends this humble fabric which human hands have reared. I have one other remark to make in this connection. It will, however, bring us naturally to the second divi- sion of our discourse. It may be said that, according to the principle now laid down, we can have but little confidence in the correctness of our own views; for in so tar as we admit the possibility of others being in the right, our own convictions must lack certainty. It is true we are distrustful of our own ideas upon points upon which a great diversity of opinion exists, and we do not see how reasonable men can be otherwise. In fact, with regard to some subjects, the views of the 16 Christian world are so entirely at variance, that we are not only deterred from forming any opinions of our own — we are driven to suspect that there are no opinions to be formed. Nothing of this kind, however, is the case with the grand principles of liberal Christianity. They are undisputed. They are supported by the universal faith of Christendom. Who then can be more confident in their convictions than we are in ours ! II. 1. Let me now state it as the first ground to be mentioned of the preference which we avow for our own views, that no Christian has ever denied or even doubt- ed them. We believe in the unity of God — who dis- putes it °l in Jesus Christ as the sent of God — does any Christian reject him in this office °l in a future life and in the strict accordance of the divine awards with our works : are not these truths universally received among all denominations °l It is true our brethren hold opin- ions concerning God and the lord Jesus Christ and the nature and condition of man, to which they attach a great deal more importance than to the simple principles just specified, and by which the power of these first truths is sometimes almost wholly neutralized. Still they have never expressly and in so many words denied those doctrines to which we adhere exclusively, and they re- sent it as unjust to intimate that their peculiar views are inconsistent with them. Now when we consider what a discordant host of opinions covers the Christian world, what an immense influence self interest and passion in a thousand forms have had upon the human mind, indu- cing it to deny and to assert almost every thing, is there not a very strong presumption in favour of those views, which amidst the incessant and stormy fluctuations of human opinion, have always remained, sometimes indeed virtually disputed, never expressly, never perhaps ac- 17 knovvledged in all their importance, yet never directly denied. Such is the case with the doctrines of the di- vine unity, the divine mission of Jesus Christ, and the perfect retribution of God. So far as these truths are concerned, our respect for the opinions of our fellow men can have no other effect than to increase the confi- dence of our faith, and give us a degree of assurance that can be felt with regard to no other vie v. Hut some one will say, 'we object to you, not on account of what you believe, but because you do not believe more. Your offence consists not in believing, but in not believing. You do well so far as yofl go. Why do you not go further 7 J low few stop where you do? How do you reconcile this boldneM with the respect you have professed lor the opinions of Of And who are fOQ who urge this objection ! Are you of the Church of England? There are great men and excellent in your communion we know, with whom it would be a pleasure and a privilege to be associated. But then there is the and ancient Church of Rome. And we should still be chargeable with the boldness to which you ob- ; for, in following you, we must dissent from all the illustrious men whom that church has enclosed within it- pale. Wn&tOYef may be the denomination under which the objector ranks, we should scarcely be better off than we are now. were we to yield to his suggestions. Suppose it were possible for us to ?o further than our own convictions lead us, what conceivable direction can we take by which we shall escape the charge of being deficient in a due respect for the opinions of our fellow men 7 There are so many paths before us, and in every one of them we perceive BO many wise and good men, that if authority were our only guide, we should really be 18 at a great loss, — in a most distressing condition. Let it be shown what the true orthodox road is, and then it will be time to question us because we refuse to go further. At present we must remain where we are. And we are the more inclined so to do, when we find that others have stopped here before us. And if their numbers are not large, still there have been among them some of the first and greatest men whom the world has ever known. Men who have thrown a light, like the sun's, along the loftiest paths of human knowledge, have found it good to be here and have gone no further*. And this is not all. To return to the remark with which we commen- ced, we find that so far as we go, we have the counte- nance and company of the whole body of believers, and that although they pass on paying little regard to the ground we occupy, yet no one expressly denies that it is true and solid ground. So far then as human au- thority ought to have any weight, we have a good rea- son for confidence, in remaining where we are. But there are other and still better recommendations of the place which we hold. It is a green and pleasant spot, watered by streams which are fed by the river of God, and of which they who drink shall never thirst again. Let us proceed to consider some other reasons for preferring our form of faith to those views which are more generally held. 2. Liberal Christianity is a purely scriptural system, therefore we receive it. In proof of this point, it is wholly unnecessary that I should quote the scriptures expressly, after what has been said respecting the uni- versal agreement of Christians in those truths which we uphold as the first and the most important truths. If we * Milton, Newton and Locke. 19 had not the fullest warrant in scripture for our princi- ples — if these principles were not announced in the clearest manner by those sacred pages, they would have been directly denied long ago, and scriptural authority would have been claimed for the denial ; for nothing but the plainest declarations possible could have escaped misconstruction from the false and arbitrary modes of determining the meaning of the Scriptures which have been used. In the early ages of the church, it was for a long time an established rule of scriptural interpretation, that there were four different senses in the sacred records, that is, that one text might have four different significations, all equally true but not equally important. The existence of this mode of interpretation, denominated in ecclesi- astical history the allegorical mode, and its high repute among the most distinguished of the early Christian wri- ters, are facts fully established. Origen, the great light of the third century, went so far as to say that both in the historical and doctrinal parts of scripture, there arc many things false and fabulous which were introduced to be the medium through which the holy spirit might communicate hidden wisdom. To show to what extra- vagances this way of regarding the Bible led, it was one of the philosophical notions of the distinguished father just named, that the stars were animated beings, and in proof he quoted those passages from the Psalms, where the heavenly bodies, by a common figure of speech, are addressed and called upon to praise God. Thus the most figurative passages became literal, and the most literal figurative. I would not give the impres- sion that this arbitrary system of explaining the Scrip- tures is practised to the same extent now. Still, at the present day, the true principles of scriptural interpreta- 20 tion appear to be but imperfectly understood. One of the most popular doctrines of the day, the doctrine of regeneration, as it is commonly held, depends almost entirely upon passages severed from their natural con- nections, and understood without any reference to the circumstances under which they were uttered or writ- ten*. Every text is regarded as a separate indepen- dent truth. In fine, it seems seldom to be recollected that the Bible is a book, composed of human language, and consequently to be treated as all language, which is an instrument of thought and communication essen- tially imperfect, must be treated if it is to be under-, stood. The Scriptures are sometimes regarded as very ob- scure ; and their antiquity, the peculiar languages in which they are written, their frequent allusions to cus- toms and institutions and fashions of thinking long since passed away, their connection with the times in which and with primary reference to which they were written — these things no doubt tend to give them a degree of obscurity. But when all these circumstances are considered, when it is recollected too what strange and fanciful rules of interpretation have been applied to the Bible, the wonder is not that there should be such a motley throng of opinions to claim its autho- rity, — for there is not a book in the world that may not be made to teach as many opposite things if it is han- dled in the same way, — but that any light should break forth from it through the clouds by which it has been overshadowed. We must confess, and we cannot but admire the wonderful wisdom of Providence while we * Paley's sermon, entitled " Caution in the use and application of scrip- ture language," deserves an attentive perusal. 21 confess it, that there is an amazing plainness in the Scriptures, since, notwithstanding all the causes that conspire to darken them, there are certain truths taught therein which the most ignorant and unlearned cannot mistake, nor the most prejudiced gainsay. Those prin- ciples must be clearly stated which all men, of every order of intellect and every variety of interest, have found there : — and those principles compose our faith. If now the sacred volume furnishes evidence so full in favour of these grand truths we profess, while every man's fancy is more or less its interpreter, what a splen- did and triumphant testimony may we not anticipate from it, when common sense shall fully assume that high office, when a correct and rational system of scrip- tural interpretation shall be established and applied. Then it will be found that those truths which are the plainest are the most important, and that those passages which now appear to teach strange and startling doc- trines, and which are the occasion of so much dispute*, have received their peculiar character and construction from local circumstances, from modes of thought and speech comparatively unimportant, and which have long since passed away. That just ways of interpreting the Bible will be adopted, we have good reason to hope. The science of biblical criticism is receiving increased atten- tion, and its • esults can neither be doubted nor prevented. 3. Liberal Christianity is eminently practical. And this is another reason why it receives our assent. Look at our form of faith, and you may discern this trait on the very face of it. Our views may not, I allow, excite the imagination so much as some more prevalent systems. But it is a very questionable recommenda- * See note. 22 tion of a religion that it is fitted to produce an im- mediate and overwhelming effect. If this were made a test of truth, there are some forms of paganism that might claim to be superior to Christianity. There has been a more complete excitement of the ima- gination, a more entire subjugation of the reasoning faculties under the religion of the Hindoos than has ever been witnessed under any form of the Christian faith. We are not therefore disturbed because our principles do not dazzle and overwhelm the mind. We care only to be assured that our system of belief is peculiarly fit- ted to obtain the assent of the reason, and to address and sway the affections of man. And to be assured that it is thus fitted, I say again, look at it. Consider, for in- stance, how it represents God. It describes this Being, who pervades all space and fills the universe with life, as having, with regard to his creatures, no spirit but the spirit of unutterable love, no purposes but the purposes of infinite beneficence. It teaches us that we and all things are always encircled by the arms and illuminated by the smile of an Almighty Father. Now suppose this conception of the Deity to become the living faith of the soul, would it not have an effect the most elevating "? Can we withhold our love from an object when it is seen to be infinitely lovely ■? Would not an entire confidence in God be inspired °l As from the very constitution of our nature we should be impelled to love him, so also we should be induced to imitate him. Assured too that his will is our happiness, how readily should we acquiesce in all the appointments of that will, in every thing which it may require us to suffer and to do. It is true enough the inspiration of this faith in God is seldom witnessed. And it is because the idea of the strictly paternal cha- racter of the Deity has never yet been fully admitted 23 into the mind. The most mistaken representations of God have been given. He has been clothed with attri- butes, which, while they have been called by the hal- lowed names of justice and holiness, savour of vindict- iveness and the despot's jealous regard for his own glory. The mind in its weakness is fascinated by the thought of Almighty power, and so the light of infinite love has been shut out or but partially perceived, and the affec- tions have never been addressed. Again, consider our views concerning Jesus Christ. It is not conceivable how their moral power could be increased. We believe him to have been a man, a man indeed who had miraculous communications with God and whom God entrusted with extraordinary power, but still a being made in all things like unto us*. Regarding him in this light, we can estimate his moral character and feel its loftiness and be impressed with the glory of his triumph over all the infirmities of human nature. As soon as you suppose him to have been superhuman by nature, all the peculiar force of his example vanishes. You have no reason to suppose that it cost him any ef- fort to be what he was, or that there was any particular power put forth. The trials and sufferings of our nature and condition could have no effect that we can conceive upon a being of a loftier sphere, nor could we feel that any peculiar glory had been displayed by such an one in passing through them without a stain. But * Hebr. ii. 17. As it is so common to ascribe tbe sentiments of individuals to tbe denominations under which they are ranked, it is incumbent upon me to say that I do not undertake to state precisely the opinions of all Unitarians. While they agree in the supremacy of the God and Father of our Lord, they entertain various views respecting the nature of our Lord himself. I be- lieve that I have stated above the opinions generally held by those Unita- rians with whom I am connected in this place. 24 some one will say, 'you believe Jesus Christ was visited with extraordinary tokens of the Divine presence and favour, and if so, was he not assisted as no other man ever has been assisted and is he not thus thrown as far out of the reach of imitation as if he were a being of an- other order V It is true he was visited with wonderful and miraculous manifestations of the divine love and protection, and these things were fitted to inspire him as they did with an astonishing spiritual power. But it is to be recollected that all the proofs of the divine favour which are showered upon us, while it is their object to awaken the best dispositions, very often ex- cite pride and vain glory. And when this is consid- ered, there is something unspeakably affecting and sub- lime in the idea of Jesus Christ, endowed with miracu- lous powers, connected with the Almighty Spirit as no other man ever was connected, and yet bearing these high honours with a meekness so wonderful ! Although in the possession of the power of controlling the laws of nature he was like God upon the earth, yet he never re- garded this likeness as a thing to be eagerly retained*. He never used his power for the sake of display or self- aggrandizement. He employed it in the great cause of truth, never on his own account, although stronger temptations than those to which he was exposed cannot be conceived. Wickedness was exhibited before him until his indignation was roused. Contempt was poured upon him without measure. Want, weakness and agony assailed him in a thousand ways. And yet never did he manifest the least wish to put forth the power which would have extricated him from suffering and covered his enemies with confusion. The consciousness of * Philipp. ii. 5—9. 25 his high office displayed itself in a singular and most impressive dignity, but never in the least emotion of pride. And his death — how full of moral sublimity ! Taunted by his enemies, tortured by the most excrucia- ting pain, he thinks not of the miraculous powers with which he was entrusted; but he dies — he dies, breathing forth affection for his mother, with pity for his murder- ers ! Now in all this is there not a moral exaltation far more affecting than the mere idea of physical greatness 1 I cannot bear to allude to the common notion of Jesus Christ as the Supreme God incarnate; for I cannot be- lieve that my fellow Christians know what they are say- ing, when they speak of the Deity on the cross. Ac- cording to this idea there could have been no pain, no humiliation, except what was endured by the human nature of the Saviour. Overwhelming then as the scene upon Calvary may be to the imagination upon the Trin- itarian system, all the impression that is made on the heart comes from the view of human suffering. I might go into the examination of other parts of our form of faith in order to show its moral power, but the limits of a single discourse will not permit. The question may now be asked, if the spiritual effi- cacy of our opinions is so great — if the principles we profess are so superior to all others, why is not their superiority proved by their effects 9 Their superiority is not proved, perhaps, in any very striking manner among those who openly profess them, because the profession of any opinions, however sincere, although it greatly helps to make these opinions powerful, is not always enough to secure all the influence which they may aim to exert. Consider now the particular principles under consideration. We claim for them great practical power. What do we mean by this claim'? We mean 26 that these truths which we uphold are peculiarly fitted to build up the human character in all the beauty of virtue and to the grandest elevation and upon a solid basis, to invigorate the soul by the best habits of thought, feeling and conduct. Now all this cannot be done at once by the mere profession of the principles by which it is to be accomplished. Character is never formed in a day. It takes a long time to fashion it to any shape. And when it has once assumed a decided form, then it takes more time than the remainder of life commonly allows to make any considerable alteration in it. It is the result of a great number of influences exerted in a vast variety of ways. If our form of faith is to effect all we expect from it and to exhibit all the power which we believe it possesses, it is not enough that it gains a hear- ing now and then, or that it obtains merely the assent of the understanding and the profession of the lips. Its spirit must have been borne upon the accents of mater- nal instruction and breathed upon us in our very cradles. It must be the predominating influence to which our mo- ral constitution has been exposed. It must surround and accompany the soul everywhere. All this must rational Christianity do before it can be said to be fairly tried. And when it has been all this to a man and has neverthe- less failed to make him what he ought to be, then and not till then may you question its practical power and begin to suspect that we have made an empty boast. As yet our form of faith has not had an opportunity of display- ing its full influence. Many of those who adhere to it have come to the knowledge and profession of it late in life, after their characters have been formed under the ordinary discipline of the world. And none have had it fully and faithfully brought home to them. Under these circumstances, so far from considering it 27 an objection to Unitarianism that its influence is not very perceptible, we should be seriously concerned if we saw it followed by rapid and striking effects. We should begin to doubt whether it is that pure system of truth which we believe it to be. If it readily affected the minds of the ge- nerality of those whose previous self-regulation has been in no wise remarkable, we might suspect that it purchased its success by yielding something to the lower tenden- cies of our nature. History points us to those religions which were more or less earthly in their character, as having produced the greatest visible effects. The greatest apparent triumphs of the Christian faith were wrought at the period when it was most corrupted. And it may well afford a ground of suspicion when a religion falls in easily with men's feelings and exerts an imme- diate influence. Thete is some improper sympathy, some collusion, we may be sure. On the other hand, we may infer the perfect spirituality, the uncorrupt divinity of pure Christianity from its want of apparent success. Being spiritual, it can affect readily only spiritual beings. Every one that is of the truth, said the Saviour, heareth my voice. Kut although we may not he able to point to any Striking results of the principles of our faith among those who profess them, we have one ground of triumph, — and a great and glorious one it is. None could be more so. All the real moral worth exhibited under any and every form of Christianity, all the real moral advance- ment made even by those who oppose us most violently, we can trace to the operation of those simple truths which ive maintain as the vital doctrines of Christianity, and which enter into the composition of every system of Christian faith. Yes, all the moral improvement that has gone on in the world, the achievements of civilization, 28 the successes of liberty, the triumphs of mind over brute force, all of these are owing to the moral energy com- municated to our nature by those undisputed truths to which we cling as the great truths. Who was it that first read to the world the lesson of true freedom 9 It was that pilgrim band who, that they might be free in the highest of all concerns, left their native shores for a howl- ing wilderness. And to what did they owe the power which they exhibited 9 Not to their religious dogmas, but to that simple acknowledgment of God, as the only law- ful governor of conscience, which they maintained. The thought of their solemn relation to the moral Ruler of the universe was the principle that actuated them. Take the genuine moral excellence that may be found under any form of our religion, and you may see that it has been formed by that simple sense of moral obligation which requires only that strong conviction of the moral government of God which Christianity furnishes to create and establish it. While the most that can be said of the peculiarities of sects is, that they have never wholly neutralised those first great truths which all Christians receive to a greater or less extent, and to which we seek to pay our undivided reverence. Let it not now be said that our principles have no power ; for they have effected a great deal and at an immense disadvantage. They have been connected with errors and enfeebled by the connection — still they have operated upon private character and upon the state of so- ciety in that quiet, noiseless and unacknowledged way in which all the purposes of God are fulfilled. The light has diffused itself silently. The rain has fallen softly. The seed has germinated and sprung up, and the branches are shooting forth far and wide, and the nations are gather- ing the soul-sustaining fruit. 29 The professors of rational Christianity have sometimes been charged with indifference in the cause of truth. And if they have been less busy than their brethren in the diffusion of opinions, it is because they have seen the providence of God in numberless ways insensibly extending the influence of moral truth, enlarging its do- minion " not in word but in power," because they have seen all the improvements taking place in the mind and condition of man uniting to glorify the grand prin- ciples of their religious faith. 4. Finally, we value our faitli not only on account of its general power over the human heart, but also because we believe it to be particularly fitted to the present advanced state of the mind — to the wants of man as he is now. There are circumstances at the present day which render our form of Christianity particularly inter- esting. There is a certain degree of religious indiffer- ence existing in society that deserves our notice. There is an insensibility to (rod and to the elevated and spiri- tual conceptions of religion, and it is increasing. It does not show itself in any open and general profligacy of manners. It is not proved to exist by the prevalence of any alarming vices. But it is seen in the neglect with which the whole subject of religion is treated, while every other subject is receiving unusual attention. While all the arts and sciences are advancing to perfec- tion, while their principles are carefully studied and closely applied to the purposes of life, the greatest of all arts, the most useful of all sciences, Religion remains unappreciated. Not that the institutions of religion are falling into rapid decay — not that the mass of society is devoid of religious feeling — not that many and striking efforts are not made in a religious way, but it is a fact that cannot be disputed that a great degree of religious 30 insensibility exists, and exists precisely in that class of society which, above all others, we should most desire to see interested in religion; whose example and influence would be by far the most valuable, — the intelligent and the cultivated. I speak not of these things for the pur- poses of complaint. I wish only to state the fact. It requires but ordinary powers of observation to perceive that the description of men to which I allude, and it is a rapidly increasing and a most respectable portion of society, is giving no cordial support to religion. There is an entire silence among them with regard to this great subject. They appear to have no interest in it and to feel that it would be unmanly to attend to its claims. The ancient feeling seems to be revived, and many of the intelligent and enlightened regard religion as the philosophers of antiquity did, as a thing necessary to gratify the superstitious propensities of the ignorant and weak, and to restrain the headstrong passions of the vul- gar. Accordingly, from a principle of prudence, their religious indifference goes no further. It never proceeds to ridicule or contempt. They only remain silent and withhold the weight of their influence and the power of their talents from the most important of all topics. Do you take up the writings of those who have advanced the farthest on the paths of human inquiry, who are the intellectual lights of the age and who discourse most eloquently on the economy of this life 1 You look in vain for some reference to religion. If there were no God in heaven and no life beyond the present, the silence upon these points could not be more complete. You return like the wearied dove to the ark, having in vain sought for some allusion which might give the assurance that beneath those beautiful speculations a solid sense of religion is to be found. 31 That this religious indifference of which I speak be- longs in a manner to the character of the times cannot be doubted. Scepticism is often the consequence of such' a rapid development of the mind as is now ta- king place. And then again that passion for utility which distinguishes the present day, disposes many to think lightly of every thing which does not bear directly and obviously upon the purposes of human life. Thus all the more refined and spiritual pursuits of our nature are in danger of being neglected. And religion itself, if its utility is not at once displayed, is impatiently thrown aside. But a still more efficient cause of the indisposi- tion to religion often witnessed, is the narrow, con- tracted and unworthy forms in which the subject is presented to the mind, and which, however well they might have suited a narrow and conti acted age, will not do at a better and more enlightened period. Men will turn away from them with ill disguised con- tempt. When they are learning to have larger and bet- ter views of every thing else, they will have larger and better views of religion, or they will have none. The religion that does not advunee with the advancing mind will most certainly be left behind. And here when we speak of improvement in religion, it seems to be suppo- sed that we wish to improve upon the Christianity of the New Testament. There could not be a more mistaken notion. So far from thinking to improve upon the gos- pel, I have no idea that Christianity ever has been per- fectly comprehended except by the holy mind of its founder. And this, by the way, is a consideration that gives new strength to our faith in Jesus, as a being who had extraordinary communications with God. It is won- derful enough, and altogether unaccountable save upon the supposition that God was with him, that one should 32 have arisen as Christ did in an ignorant and degraded age and shewn himself wholly in advance of it; but when it is seen that no succeeding age, however enlightened, has gone before him, that all the discoveries now made in morals are but the development of principles which he asserted, then not a doubt can remain of the divine mis- sion of this illustrious personage. When the truth came from our Saviour it entered minds more or less warped by prejudice, and contrac- ted by ignorance, and it took its hue and form according- ly, just as the seed is affected by the nature of the soil into which it is cast. And just in proportion as the hu- man mind is narrow and ignorant, its religious views will be narrow and imperfect: as it becomes enlarged, it will learn to cherish larger conceptions of God and its own nature, duties and destination. Now we regard the views of religion which are most commonly held and most industriously circulated as the views which origin- ated in former and less enlightened times. They are fast losing their fitness to the minds of men. Our own faith we believe to be much better adapted to the pre- sent advanced period. There is a truer sympathy be- tween it and the improved state of the world. That men are outgrowing the religious opinions generally held, is proved by the striking fact that the advocates of orthodoxy are beginning to deny their own doctrines even when stated in the language of their own books. In New England a change is passing over the features of Calvin- ism. " Do you think," asks one of the finest minds the Church of England boasts # , " do you think mankind never change their opinions without formally expressing and confessing that changed" However these things * Sydney Smith. 33 may be, it is plain that there is a large and valuable class of men upon whom the common views of religion have no sort of effect. And if any thing is to save this portion of the community from the most wretched indif- ference and scepticism, it is, we solemnly believe, those simple and noble views of religion to which, in the good providence of God, we have been permitted to attain. But I will not trespass any further upon your indul- gence. I have only time to remind you, my brethren of this Christian society, of the solemn obligation under which we are laid in the possession of the truth. You have erected this chaste and commodious structure not merely for your own comfort, but for the sake of a high and holy cause, for what you believe to be the glorious gospel of the blessed God. To give a real impulse to this great cause, it is not enough that you have reared a temple and come together now to devote it to God with solemn services. "Know ye not that ye are the temple of GodV* Build up then that altar in your hearts, around which all the generous virtues and holy qualities of which our nature is capable may gather with their per- petual offerings. Let this be the place where integrity, gentleness, and all purity of character shall be created and strengthened within us. Then this spot will be truly consecrated as the birth place of our virtues and our hopes. It will be consecrated not only in our own thoughts but in the minds of all those who may be ben- efited by our influence and our examples, in the hearts of our children and those who shall come after us. It will be consecrated in the eye of God and his favour will rest upon it. Command thy blessing upon it, O God, now and evermore ! 34 NOTE TO PAGE 21. When I say that the passages upon which the doctrines we reject are founded have occasioned much dispute, I mean that their signification has been disputed, not only by those who reject, but also by those who advo- cate the tenets which they are supposed to teach. Many of the texts ad- duced in proof of the trinity are denied to have any reference to the doctrine by one trinitarian commentator or another. It is an interesting question what proportion of the passages, commonly regarded as proof texts of the trinity, have received unitarian expositions from trinitarians. If it were de- termined, the result, I imagine, would be a little curious. Dr Doddridge rested principally upon Rev. i. 11, " I am Alpha" &c. His note on the passage intimates very strongly that to his mind the other texts used in prov- ing the trinity lacked strength. There is no passage oftener quoted and more confidently relied on than the declaration of our Lord, John, x. 30, " I and my Father are one ;" yet Calvin and a learned orthodox professor of our own day admit that the unity here stated to exist between God and Christ is sim- ply a unity of purpose, like that unity which our Lord prayed might subsist between God and himself and his disciples. — John, xvii. 21. There has been some disposition lately shewn to bring back to the controversy the fa- mous text, 1 John, v. 7, " There are three that bear record in heaven" &c. But if the comments of Beza and Calvin on the passage are heeded, it would prove nothing in favour of the trinity, as they tell us that the text states only a unity of testimony not of essence. Other instances of the same kind might be adduced. I shall only mention a concession of the Ro- man Catholic Milner. He is endeavouring to show the necessity of sub- mitting to the church as the only lawful interpreter and judge of scrip- ture. And he has this note — " one of the strongest passages for the divinity of Christ is the following, as it is pointed in the vulgate : Ex quibus est Christus, secundum carnem, qui est super omnia Deus be- nedictus in scecula." — Rom. ix. 5. ( Of whom is Christ according to the flesh, who is overall God blessed for ever.) But see how Grotius and Socinus deprive the text of all its strength, by merely substituting a point for a comma: Ex quibus est Christus, secundum carnem. Qui est super omnia Deus benedictus in scecula" (Of whom is Christ, according to the flesh. He icho is over all, God, be blessed for ever.) — (End of Con- troversy.) The alteration of the pointing in the original Greek has the same effect as in the vulgate — to " deprive the text of all its strength." It is scarcely necessary to say that the punctuation of the scriptures is of no authority. SERVICES LAYING OF THE CORNER STONE. March 26, On Tuesday, the 25th of March, the corner stone of the new church to he erected in Locust street near Tenth by "The First Congregational Society of Unita- rian Christians*' in this city, was laid with the usual re- ligious services. An introductory prayer having been offered by James Taylor, the corner stone was laid by Ralph Eddowes and John Vaughan. A memorial was then read by Ralph Eddowes, containing a brief account of the origin and progress of the society. The object of the building about to be erected was stated as fol- lows : — "This house we appropriate to the honour and sole worship of the High and Lofty One who inhabiteth eternity ; the Blessed and Only Potentate ; whom the heaven of heavens cannot contain ; who, dwelling not in temples made with hands but in unapproachable light, is not worshipped by men's hands, as though he needeth any thing, seeing he giveth unto all life and 36 breath and all things : This is that One God, beside whom there is no other : And who, being rich in mercy, for the great love wherewith he loved the fallen race of mankind, hath sent them the message of grace, truth, and salvation by his beloved and chosen son, Jesus of Nazareth, whom, by an anointing with the holy spirit and with power, He hath constituted the Messiah, the Christ, the one mediator between God and man, and in whose resurrection and exaltation He hath given assu- rance unto all men that He will by him judge the world in righteousness. Deo Optimo Maximo In saecula saeculorum Gloria." The memorial, from which the above is an extract, having been read, a copy of it, written on parchment and enclosed in a glass bottle, was deposited in the cor- ner stone by John Vaughan. The pastor of the congre- gation then delivered the following address : — " My Christian Friends : " In accordance with custom we have now deposited beneath this stone an appropriate record of this day's doings. We bless that goodness which permits us just sixteen years after the laying of the first stone of the for- mer church to assemble for a similar purpose with the prospect of a larger and more commodious edifice. We acknowledge our obligations to those respected mem- bers of the society to whose untiring fidelity we are greatly indebted for our present prosperous circum- stances. May their advancing years be illuminated by that faith to which they have been so cheerfully devo- 37 ted. It becomes us also upon this occasion to recog- nise and declare those religious views upon which the prosperity of the structure about to occupy this spot immediately rests. There is a foundation deeper than this visible one — a corner stone more solid and durable, upon which if we build not, we build in vain. "It is not to shelter our heads from the inclemency of the skies, from the wind and the storm, that we erect this house. We have a higher purpose. We would provide a refuge for our minds, a place where we may come for spiritual protection. It is here that we would find aid to enable us to act always from those principles of integrity, benevolence, purity, and habitual confi- dence in (iod, which become our condition and our hopes. To advance this grand spiritual object, we have commenced the erection of this church. And we must build it upon that stone which God has made the head of the corner — upon Jesus Christ; for his religion alone is competent to meet all the spiritual wants of our na- ture. " Accordingly, we now acknowledge, and we pray that it may be the deepest conviction of our souls, we ac- knowledge Jesus Christ as the Promised — the Sent — the Son of God, "approved of God by miracles and won- ders and signs which God did by him." Without him we can do nothing — nothing towards the better purposes of our being. By the appointment of the Most High, he is our Saviour ; and lie saves us from no ordinary evils, and by no ordinary means. It is from the deadliest mo- ral evils, from the excesses of superstition and the misery of doubt, from the bondage and wretchedness of sin that he rescues us, and by means of that moral power commu- nicated to the soul by the consideration of all that he did, taught, and suffered. 6 38 " Jesus Christ imparts a saving strength to the mind by the spiritual energy of his instructions. He has declar- ed, so we understand him, that there is One God, and only one, without rival or equal, of strict undivided unity. Of this Infinite Being he continually spake under the affecting appellation of Father; calling him his Father and our Father; and we are encouraged to know what God is from what we know of a father's love, and to feel that He who lavishes upon the fading flowers a more than regal splendour, will make his intelligent offspring his peculiar care. Can any doctrine be more powerful than this to fill us with pure and elevated af- fections. Again, Jesus Christ has referred with un- doubting authority to a continued existence beyond the grave, and has himself been raised from the dead in at- testation of it. How rich in power is the sublime hope thus inspired ! And lastly, our great teacher has reveal- ed the perfect and just retribution of God. He who obeyeth shall be happy. He who sinneth shall be mise- rable. The ties which bind together virtue and happi- ness, sin and misery, and which exist in the nature of things, have been fully disclosed. "The author of Christianity saves us also by his exam- ple. Every one knows how much man, the creature of imitation as he is, is affected by exhibitions of qualities calculated to inspire respect and love. And every one who studies the example of Jesus may know what a pow- erful instrument it is in purifying the soul and delivering it from sin. " The instructions and example of our Lord are not the only means of human salvation. He saves us by his death. As that class of Christians to which we belong is supposed to think lightly of this event, I cannot help taking this occasion to declare my conviction that no 39 event has ever happened within the experience of man, or under the providence of God, so full of a spiritual efficacy as this. It is the last and strongest expression of the love of Him, who, for the sake of truth and huma- nity, permitted the most exalted being who ever trod this earth to surfer and die. Now may the Christian exclaim with the triumphant confidence of the apostle, " I am persuaded, that neither life nor death, nor things pre- sent nor things to come, nor height nor depth can sepa- rate us from the love that God has shewn towards us in Christ Jesus our Lord." If Jesus had not died as he did, we should want that perfect ground of confidence in God that wc now enjoy. u Again, the death of Christ was necessary to perfect that testimony which, upon the most solemn occasion of his life, he declared that he came into the world to bear to the truth. The truth of Christianity is not, to be sure, proved merely because its founder believed it and was ready to die for it : yet it is absolutely necessary that this, his own faith should be fully proved. And if Christ had not died as he did in attestation of what he had declared, " the strongest of all proofs, the most cer- tain of all tests would be wanting." His death finishes the grand argument, and gives completeness to the power by which sin and the grave are vanquished. There are other views that may be taken of the death of our Lord, which will shew its moral effect. In no way, however, do I conceive that it tends to advance human salvation, except as it reaches, convinces and commands the mind of man and reconciles him to God : all this it does with exceeding power. " And now, brethren, let these great views, at which I have briefly hinted, be laid deeply in your souls. And then, upon the broad and solid foundation of your faith, 40 the glory of this church shall rise. Its walls shall be salvation, and its gates praise. Here, in your own im- provement, in the virtues which you will here be aided to cultivate, most luminous tokens of the Divine Pre- sence will be accorded you. You will not only build up this church and your own souls in the beauty of truth, you will advance the great interests of uncorrupt Chris- tianity and true goodness. You will leave a large legacy to your children. So that, in the course of years, when the roof with which we are now about to cover this spot shall sink, when the walls, here to rise, shall be bowed, and our descendants shall gather around this stone to receive from it the memorial with which we have now entrusted it, vividly as this day's deed will be recalled, there will be a better, a more expressive memorial of it in the inestimable privileges which our fidelity will have helped to perpetuate." SSSIBSSOS OCCASIONED BY THE DEATH OF THE ffiefc* Samuel Worcester, £>♦ 2>. DELIVERED IN THE TABERNACLE CHURCH, SALEM. MASS. Jcly If, IBS!, BY LEONARD WOODS, D. D. ABBOT PROFESSOR OF CHRISTIAN THEOLOGY IN THE THEOLOGICAL -F..M1NARY, AXDOVER. SALEM : PUBLISHED BY HENRY WHIPPLE. PRINTED BY FLAGG AND GOULD, ANDOVER. JULY, 1821. SERMON. AND SAMUEL DIED J AND ALL THE ISRAELITES L\ME\ FED HIM. 1 Sam. XXV. 1 Wiif.nfai.fi a good man dies, the world sustains a loss. Though lie may have lived in a private and obscure condi- tion; there are those who knew the excellence of his char- acter, and must regard his decease as a subject of mourning. But among good men, there is an ob\ ions ground of distinc- tion. God has constituted his moral kingdom, as he has the natural body, and the body politic. Though there is but one body, there are many members. And though the mem- bers are all necessary ; some hold a place of higher im- portance than others, and the loss of them is more severely felt. When the apostle touches upon this distinction among Christians he docs it for the purpose of stigmatizing a spirit of emulation and envy, and of promoting mutual love and sympathy, and a paramount regard to tlie good of the whole. And why, brethren, should the difference, which God has made among the members of his spiritual empire, ever ex- cite any other affections, than these ? It surely would not, if we well considered what the difference is. For m truth, that man is marked with the highest distinction, who does the most good. Real greatness consists not in the in- dolent possession of a superior understanding, or superior worldly advantages. Nor does it consist in the most active use of such an understanding, or such advantages, except for the single purpose of doing good. All greatness, all distinction, showing itself in any other way than this, you are at liberty to despise. But if a man is great in good- ness and in usefulness, you cannot despise him, without des- pising the happiness of your species. His greatness is closely combined with the best interest of the world. If we love the best interest of the world, we shall love the man who promotes it ; and we shall love him most, who promotes it in the highest degree. In the contemplation of that great and blessed object, which benevolence seeks, we are raised above self-interest. We forget our individ- ual importance ; we forget every thing which makes a personal distinction, either in our own favour, or in favour of others. Let the highest degree of good be accomplished, whether by us or by others as instruments, and we have our desire. The only distinction among men, which is of any real consequence, is that which arises from the degree of their usefulness. Mere intellectual greatness, or mere worldly greatness is indeed an object, to which ambition looks up with impatient aspirations. But what is it in the sight of God ? or in the sight of good men ? It is the greatness of Christian benevolence, that we admire ; — it is the greatness, not of the man who has superior mental endowments, but of the man, whose superior mental en- dowmcnts are all devoted to the cause of Christ ; — the greatness of the man, who, feeling that he is not his own, presents himself a living sacrifice to God, and exists only for the welfare of his kingdom. This is the greatness that disarms hostility, that puts envy to shame, that at- tracts universal love, and that does not moulder in the grave. And this, brethren, is the greatness, which every Christian ought to seek; and which every Christian will seek, not in proportion to his pride, but in proportion to his benevolence. As this character of greatness is of such importance, and has always been regarded as of such importance, in the Christian community ; and as it is inexpressibly desir- able that it should exist far more frequently than it ever has existed hitherto ; I shall think it proper on this occa- sion, to inquire briefly, by what causes, and in what manner such a character is formed. Here I must begin, by ascribing to God all that con- stitutes excellence of character, — all that fits men for dis- tinguished usefulness. In God's hand it is to make great. He creates and sustains the immortal mind, with all its in- tellectual and moral powers. He creates and sustains the body, with all its vigour and activity. And it is by his Spirit that a man is new-created — " created in Christ Jesus unto good works/' Every thing which gives discipline and improvement to the understanding or the heart, is from God. Let it be that the powers of the mind are cultivat- 6 ed and strengthened by the diligent use of various natural means. Who appointed those means but God ? And who but God gives a heart diligently to use them, and by his blessing makes that use successful ? Be it so that Chris- tians are sanctified through the truth. It is God that sanc- tifies them in this very way. The truth is his instrument ; and from him comes all its efficacy. When therefore you fix your eye upon a Christian, who exhibits the character of distinguished greatness ; you see the workmanship of God, — the expression of his power and his goodness. Ev- ery Christian is what he is, by the grace of God. To God then be all the glory of those faculties, which distinguish men from the beasts of the field ; of that holiness, which distinguishes Christians from the ungodly; and of every degree of piety and usefulness, which raises one Christian above another. I say, it is God that makes great. But this, as has been suggested, is not to be understood as in any measure pre- cluding the use of means, or the importance of human ef- forts. We are left here, just as we are in any other case, to inquire into the process, by which God's design is accom- plished. It is here presupposed that a man possesses the requi- site natural powers, and real goodness of heart. How does he attain to eminence? The general answer is, by effort; in other w T ords, by the diligent application of his ac- tive powers to the proper objects of pursuit. It is a principle which I need not take pains to illustrate, that exercise, or repeated effort strengthens all our affections, and powers of action, and confirms all our habits. But the effect of ex- ercise varies according to circumstances. In the Christian who attains to eminence, the high effect of exercising the intellectual and moral powers may be accounted for in the following way. First. He directs the powers of his mind to a great and worthy object ; the salvation of men — the good of ChrisCs kingdom. If a man turns his thoughts and labours to the good of his country, his heart grows patriotic and noble But if he exercises his thoughts and affections upon Christ and his kingdom, the effect on his character will be a< much higher, as the glory of Christ and the value of his kingdom are more excellent, than any earthly object. The heart becomes assimilated to the object of its attachment. He that contemplates and loves the glorious character of Christ, is by degrees changed into the same image. He that employs himself in so great a work, as building up the kingdom of Christ, will have his character constantly ennobled by the nature of his employment. He will de- rive a greatness from the greatness of the concern in which he is occupied. Just as, on the contrary, a man contracts the character of meanness, by laying out his thoughts and labours on a mean and contemptible object. But the Christian, who acquires the character of greatness, contemplates the glory of Christ frequently, and 8 pursues the welfare of his kingdom with intense affection. And it is very much in proportion to the frequency of his benevolent and pious efforts, and the strength of feeling with which he makes them, that he experiences a saluta- ry influence upon his own mind. When a man comes to such a state, that the glory of Christ and the precious in- terests of his church are the objects of his steady contem- plation from day to day ; when he finds them present to his thoughts, rising up and lying down ; when they occur spontaneously; when their occurrence is attended with delight ; when other things, which formerly had a place in his mind, in a great measure retire; when these divine objects get so strong a hold of his thoughts, that no plea- sures, no cares, no sufferings can exclude them ; in short, when his attachment to the cause of Christ becomes his ruling passion, — the main-spring of his conduct ; then, in every thing excellent and praise-worthy he experiences a rapid growth. Whatever is earthly in his nature dies away. His thoughts and affections learn to range in a higher and brighter region. He acquires moral purity, and enlargement, and strength, with a success unknown be- fore. He advances farther towards the elevated charac- ter of just men made perfect, in a few days, than Chris- tians, at the common rate of improvement, in a long life. My brethren, do any of you aim at eminence in Chris- tian piety and usefulness ? See here what course you ought ' to pursue. And see here the course actually pursued I by that distinguished servant of Christ who has recently k been taken from us. Beloved man ! Wherever his name is known, not only among those who were personally at- tached to him, but through the Christian world, it is as- sociated with all that is precious in the cause of Zion. — With emotions which cannot be uttered, I shall now at- tempt to aid you, in soberly estimating the loss which the world sustains, in the death of so great and good a man. But let none of us forget, that his greatness and goodness were the gift of God — the gift of God to his church. Our departed brother was, in the best sense, a man of distinguished character. He possessed eminent qualifica- tions, and attained to eminent usefulness. The qualities of his understanding and heart were such, as would have rendered him beloved and useful in any condition. His virtues would have shone even in obscurity. Had he lived a private Christian, in the most retired village ; the inhabitants would have been enlightened by his wisdom, and benefited by his pious example and benevolent ser- vices. Had he lived in days of persecution, and had the power of his enemies immured him in a prison ; he possessed intrinsic excellencies of character, which would have shone with a salutary splendour, even there. His meekness and self-government would have checked the impatience of his fellow sufferers ; his affectionate counsels would have im- proved and comforted them ; and the holy ardour of his prayers and praises would have taught them the happi- ness of devotion. 10 But his peculiar greatness arose from the circumstances in which he was placed, and the relations which he sustained. It is indeed very obvious, that he had an original structure of mind, exactly suited to the work which God designed for him. Still it was his situation, — it was his being actu- ally called to his work, and successfully engaged in accom- plishing it, which made known the value of his talents, and led to their highest improvement. In a very important sense, a man is made by circumstances. The period of time when he lives ; the particular place where he acts ; the dispositions and pursuits of those with whom he is most nearly connected; the nature of the duties allotted to him, and the degree of early success, by which his sub- sequent labours are animated, all conspire to impart to his character the qualities, which it finally exhibits. Permit me now to glance at some of the leading events in the life of our departed brother, considered sim- ply as contributing to develope his faculties, to form his character, or to constitute his usefulness. I have no doubt that a skilful biographer, well ac- quainted with the early part of his life, could easily fix upon a variety of incidents, which tended at once to unfold the peculiar properties of his mind, and to produce those habits of thought, and feeling, and action, which afterwards became chief ingredients in his character. God knows for what service he designs every man; and he frequently gives such a direction to the events of childhood and 11 youth, that the peculiar properties of mind, which will be of use in the highest state of advancement and of effort in after-life, shall early have opportunity to be exercised and strengthened; and while the man himself and his friends around him know nothing of the matter, God is preparing him for his work ; and preparing him by means, which will afterwards be seen to have been exactly suited to the end, and so will be a subject of grateful acknowledgment and admiration. How far this was the case with our departed friend, others can determine, who are in possession of the requi- site information. My remarks can extend no farther, than to the commencement of his public life. He was first called to discharge the duties of a Chris- tian minister in a situation, attended with some peculiar trials. Those trials were important means of qualifying him for the work, which he had subsequently to perform. No man ever acquires strength and decision of character, without contending with difficulties. If all is smooth and prosperous, the mind contracts inactivity and softness. But the frequent occurrence of straits and sufferings raises a mind, happily constituted, to a high tone of resolution, and prepares it for firmness of purpose, and energy of action. Our brother passed through his first scene of public labour, with high advantage. I will not say that he avoid- ed every mistake ; though it would be difficult to name 12 any in particular, with which he was chargeable. Nor will I say, that he did not fall short in any ministerial duty ; though there is reason to believe he was remarkable for his diligence and fidelity. Before his removal from his first charge, he gave evidence of uncommon discretion and forethought ; of patience and self-control ; of great strength of understanding and integrity of heart, and of a warm, steady attachment to the interests of the church. In the year 1803, he entered on the duties of the ministry in this place. The station was highly important ; and it involved duties, which no man, without special qualifications, would have been competent to meet. I need not say, what is well known to the public, that he was uncommonly attentive to his ministerial and pastoral duties. He laboured with wisdom, and zeal, and self-de- nial; with feelings of tender sympathy and love; with firmness and perseverance. He kept his eye upon the spiritual interests of the church. It was his heart's desire and constant prayer to God, that sinners might be convert- ed, and believers abound in good works. A revival of religion, which he was permitted more than once to wit- ness as the fruit of his labours, he regarded as the most desirable of all events. As a preacher, he exhibited sound- ness of faith, manly strength of intellect, a cultivated taste, and a warm heart. His preaching was always serious, affectionate, and instructive; frequently animated and im- pressive. His church and people knew, — every parent and every child knew, that he loved their souls, and sought 13 their everlasting welfare. In all cases of difficulty, which occurred in the church or congregation, he was a most ju- dicious counsellor ; in affliction, a friend, a father, a com- forter. In a general view of his ministry, every one must say, he magnified his office. It is a rare thing, that a min- ister enjoys, in an equal degree with him, the affection and esteem of his people. And I wish I were not obliged to say, that it is a rare thing for a minister, in an equal de- gree, to love the sacred office. There was nothing more distinctly marked in his character, than the strong, perma- nent affection, by which he was united to the pastoral work. He cleaved to it, as to his life. You might as easily persuade others to dissolve the dearest domestic relations, as you could have persuaded him to dissolve his pastoral relation to the church. With this close adherence of his affections to the holy office, he could not but become more and more assimilated to the objects, with which that office made him conversant. The regular performance of its duties, prompted by his heart, as well as his conscience, and accompanied with emotions so delightful, imparted an increasing sanctity and elevation to his character. He be- came more and more a consecrated man. If I mistake not, it was evident to his intimate friends generally, that, during the last years of his life, he rose much higher than before, in every attribute of an eminent Christian, and an eminent minister of the gospel. This, I am aware, is to be ascribed to the effectual operation of God. But God operates through means. And while I w r ould not omit to notice the improvement, which our dear brother doubtless 14 derived from the repeated and severe afflictions, with which he was visited in his own family, and from other dispensations of divine providence ; I cannot but think, that one of the principal means of his improvement was the dil- igence, the affection, and the pleasure, with which he dis- charged the duties of the ministry. The employments of a Christian minister, animated by the true spirit of his of- fice, must contribute, directly and powerfully, to advance him in the exercise of every virtue, and to give him the visible impress of exalted goodness. And as this is the case, it must surely be a minister's fault, in a sense admit- ting of no alleviation, if, with motives so powerful, and of so high a sanctity, constantly acting upon him, and while executing functions which continually associate him with the Lord Jesus Christ, he still indulges low and grovelling affections, or contents himself with ordinary attainments in piety. But Dr Worcester's usefulness extended itself beyond his particular charge. His reputation for practical wisdom, and for an acquaintance with the principles and forms of ecclesiastical proceedings in New England, occasioned very frequent applications to him for counsel and assistance. And the public sentiment respecting him was finally such, that scarcely an instance occurred of great difficulty in our churches, where his advice was not earnestly sought. The collected thoughts, the forcible reasoning, the foresight the decision, which he exhibited in the business of ecclesiastical councils, gave him an unequalled influence over those who 15 agreed with him in principle, while they made him an object of dread, though of honest respect, to his opposers. But by nothing did he more distinguish himself in relation to such concerns, than by his sincere love of peace, and his success in reconciling contending parties, and in restoring order and tranquillity. The frequent agency he had in the transaction of ec- clesiastical business was itself an important article in the collected sum of his usefulness, and at the same time it contributed to increase all the estimable qualities of his character. It brought him into a closer connexion with the ministers and churches of Christ, made him more fa- miliarly acquainted with their circumstances, and gave him a more lively interest in their welfare. His extraordinary prudence, his ability, his affectionate concern for the order and prosperity of the churches, as well as for the useful- ness of ministers, gained him, in a higher and higher de- gree, the public confidence, and prepared the way for him to enter, with brighter prospects, into a more extensive sphere of public duty. He was distinguished for his ability and success as a defender of divine truth. His feelings were indeed averse to religious controversy ; though the peculiar structure of his mind, and his habit of close, patient thinking qualified him, as has been generally acknowledged, to be a distin- guished controversial writer. I should think it wholly in- congruous on this occasion, to agitate the question, whether 16 he or his opponents, in any case, had the advantage in ar- gument. I leave every man to decide this question for himself. But I think it the least that justice requires of me, to remark, that those who receive the common doc- trines of the New England churches, and of the Reform- ed churches in Europe, must consider it as a special favour of heaven, that they have, I will not say the opinions, but the arguments of Dr Worcester on the grand controver- sy of the present day. A writer possessing such a culti- vated, discriminating mind, as he possessed, —such manly thought, such moderation and candour, united with such earnestness and decision, would be deemed a credit to any cause, in any age of the world. But this assembly well knows, that I have not yet mentioned what chiefly accounts for the elevation of our dear brother's character, or chiefly constituted the useful- ness of his life. I refer to his connexion with the Mission- ary cause ; first, with the Massachusetts Missionary Society, of which he was many years Secretary, and afterwards President ; and then finally, and chiefly, with the Foreign Missions from America. — You will not understand me as intending to imply, that there is any office on earth, more exalted and holy, than the Christian ministry, or any object more important than that, which the ministry is designed to promote. The fact is, the Missionary cause is the same as that, which every minister and every Christian labours to promote. It is the same cause, taken in its most extended sense. 7/ is the cause of benevolence, — the 17 cause of 'Christ, in relation to the whole unevangelized world. And the office which our departed brother filled, in con- nexion with the Missionary cause, was the office of a Chris- tian minister, in its largest sense. As to the extent of its design, it resembled the office of the apostles, who were commissioned to " go into all the world, and preach the gospel to every 7 creature.*' The office to which I allude, was not strictly that of a Missionary ; but of a general agent for the missionary eause. Now if I would show you exactly what Dk Worcester was j if I would fix vour eve upon the highest distinction which marked his character; I must not mention merely his original powers of mind, nor his diligence and success m the acquisition of knowledge, nor his assiduous and acceptable discharge of the duties of a pastor and preacher, nor his useful efforts in regard to the order and prosperity of particular churches, or to the right conduct of our ecclesiastical aifairs generally, nor his able defence of the scripture doctrine of the divine glory of Christ; — I must not stop with any or all of these; but must present the beloved, the honoured man before you, as Corresponding Secretary of the American Board of Commissioners for Foreign Missions. It was lor this office he was disignated in the purpose of God. It was for this office, so important and arduous, that all his previous offices and labours and trials contributed to prepare him. It was in this office, that his peculiar talents found room for their most appropriate and perfect exercise. Here he was in his proper place, his element. And here, through the mer- 3 18 ey of God, his character acquired its brightest and purest lustre. But I wish no man to satisfy himself with these gene- ral remarks. Let the subject be thoroughly examined. No office is of any consideration, except on account of the end, which is to be answered by it. If the office of Cor- responding Secretary was really important, it must have been because Missions to the heathen world are impor- tant. Would you then form a correct judgment of the usefulness of the beloved man, whose death we are called to lament, you must consider the value of that cause, which was so near his heart, and for the promotion of which he exhausted the best energies of his nature. But is it necessary for me, in this age of Christian knowledge and Christian effort, to produce arguments to prove the importance and excellence of the Missionary cause ? Are there any among us, who will award to our departed brother the honour of sincere and pious endeav- ours, but doubt the soundness of his judgment in directing them to the accomplishment of such an end ? Are there any, who can witness the zeal, the liberality, the sacrifices and prayers, which are employed for the promotion of the Missionary cause, and say, they are all employed in a use- less or doubtful enterprise — the cause they are designed to promote is not worthy of such exertions — and the man who devotes his life to that cause, though he may deserve our candour for his honesty, and our respect for his talents. 19 and our love for the goodness of his heart, must have our compassion for his weakness ? — Gladly would I remove the doubts and misapprehensions of any who view the cause of missions in such a light. And gladly would I re- move the lukewarmness, and excite the active zeal of others, who have better views. Will you then estimate the importance of the Mis- sionary cause, from its grand design ? What is that design, but the salvation of sinners perishing in the darkness of pa- ganism? Now are not the soul- of men in heathen lands as immortal as ours? And is not their immortality stamped with as great worth, as ours ? If then we deem it impor- tant that our souls should be saved, and our immortal exist- ence be made happy ; is it not equally important that those, who are bone of our bone and flesh of our flesh in pagan countries, should obtain the same blessings? Has not all Christendom pronounced that to be an excellent precept, which requires us to love our neighbours as ourselves ? And can any one, who is guided by this rule, and who has any proper regard to his own eternal happiness, think lightly of the eternal happiness of any fellow-creatures ? But if the salvation of the heathen is so important ; no man can question the importance of those efforts, which are directed to the single purpose of furnishing them with the means ot salvation, and of making them heirs of all its blessings. — If, indeed, the human race were in such a moral condition, as the lax theology of the day represents ; if men had no de- pravity to be subdued by that power of the Holy Spirit; 20 which attends the preaching of the gospel ; if they had no sins to be pardoned and no pollution to be washed away by atoning blood ; and if those, who have never known the name of Jesus, had as good a prospect of heaven, as any in Christian lands ; we might quiet all our anxieties respect- ing the heathen, and indulge feelings of sincere benevolence towards them, without any efforts for their conversion. And I am very willing to concede, that for those, who deny what we believe to be the doctrines of revelation in regard to the character and prospects of man, it is every way consistent to think the Missionary cause of no value, and to look with the coldest indifference on all that is done to convert the heathen world. But if all men are " by na- ture children of wrath ;" and if there is no other name under heaven whereby they can be saved, but the name of Jesus ; and if the preaching of the gospel is the grand, appointed means of bringing men to enjoy that salvation ; then it is utterly impossible to separate the cause of benev- olence from the cause of missions ; and no friend of man can be content, without making every possible exertion to send the gospel to all nations. Did the Son of God deem it necessary to come down from heaven, and suffer and die, to procure salvation for sinners ? And can we deem it of no consequence that they should be made acquainted with that salvation ? If Christianity is of any value to ws, — if it has done us any good ; it is certainly of as great value to the heathen, and may do as much good to them. Say, was Christianity any blessing to those who were converted by the labours of the Jipostks? Was it any blessing to 21 our forefathers in Europe, who, in former ages, were turn* ed from the basest idolatry, and made members of Christ's kingdom ? — Think of the difference between the inhabi- tants of New England, and the people of those countries where pagan ignorance prevails. To what is all this dif- ference owing, but to the Christian religion ? And must not those labours be important, which are one day to secure to idolatrous nations all that is precious in our holy religion, and to render them as enlightened, as pious, as happy, as the best Christians here? Just imagine all the millions of Asia, Africa, and America, who are now in a state of heathenism, actually converted, formed into Christian churches, engaged publicly and privately in worshipping God, observing all the commands and ordinances of the gospel, and living as examples of righteousness, and peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost. See parents, once bowing down to dumb idols, and practising the most degrading vices, now walking before their households in uprightness of heart, and bringing up their children in the nurture and admonition of the Lord. Sec children listening, with weeping tenderness, to the voice of Christian instruction. See angels rejoicing over sinners brought to repentance. Sec believers abounding in good works ; in the depth of affliction, submitting to God ; in death, rejoicing in hope of eternal glory. Would not such a state be infinitely better, than their present state of stupid idolatry, and of brutal ignorance and wretchedness ? — The friends of the Mission- ary cause are attempting to accomplish all this ; and to accomplish it, not for one generation, but for all genera- 22 tions, to the end of time. Where is the man, that can question the excellence of this attempt ? And who, that loves his fellow-creatures, can refrain from rejoicing in the most distant hope, that the attempt will be successful ? — If there is any thing absolutely to forbid such a hope, then I grant, that the attempts of Christians to convert the world, though prompted by benevolence, would lose their value, and be stamped with folly. But, my brethren, are we forbidden to indulge this hope ? Is the conversion of the heathen w T orld impracticable ? Has not God Almighty power enough to convert them ? Has he not benevolence enough ? Are not the provisions of the gospel sufficiently large and abundant ? Is not the way that is opened to heaven sufficiently broad ? Have not many actually been converted, who were once as far from righteousness, as they ? We indeed believe that men in heathen lands are much more depraved and degraded, and much more disin- clined to embrace the gospel, than the opposers of mis- sions believe them to be. We see more and mightier ob- stacles, than they do, to the success of the Missionary cause. But We find no reason for despair. Were the difficulties in the w 7 ay of Christianizing the heathen, arising from the circumstances of heathen society, from lieathen customs and manners, from the inveteracy of heathen superstitions, and from that carnal mind which is every-where enmity against God; — were the difficulties arising from these sources far greater than they are ; we should still have confident hopes of success ; hopes resting, not on the natural tendencies of the heart, nor on the effi- 23 cacy of human persuasion or power to counteract those tendencies ; but on the promise of God, — on the power and faithfulness of God, — on that divine grace, which shows its peculiar excellence, by superabounding where sin hath abounded. Brethren, the conversion of the world, though impossible for man, is an easy work for God. The conversion of the heathen is as easy, as the conversion of our ancestors was, or as our own conver- sion. It was as great an effort of divine power and divine love to save any of us, as it would be to save stupid idola- ters in the pagan world. And as God is the common Fa- ther of men, and is no respecter of persons; why should we suppose he will confine his special favours to a small portion of our race ? Why should we form such an opin- ion of that Being who made the world, and whose tender mercies are over all his works, as to think, that he is not H willing to exert his power in behalf of the heathen, as in our behalf; or that he will not be as ready to prosper our endeavours to convert sinners in heathen lands, as in our iwn country ? But I cannot dwell on this subject. Nor is it neccssa- that I should. For it seems really impossible that any lan, who considers the Christian religion a blessing, and who las imbibed the least degree of its benevolent spirit, should not desire its universal diffusion, or that he should not re- joice in the various exertions now made to bring the whole world under its influence. Objections against the mission- ary cause are consistent enough from the mouths of Der?t* 24 and Atheists ; but for Christians to make them, is a shock- ing absurdity. It is just as though they should say, we have received the christian religion — we have been en- lightened by its heavenly doctrines, purified by its influ- ence, and in a thousand ways have experienced its bless- ings. And now, we are willing it should stop where it is, being quite indifferent whether its blessings, so impor- tant to ws, are ever communicated to the hundreds of mil- lions who are perishing without it. — But I cannot consent to answer objections against the missionary cause from those, who call themselves Christians. It is too late in the day. Henceforth, if any man would urge such objec- tions, let him have the honesty and truth first to avow himself an infidel. Here then, brethren, we have a cause of the highest conceivable moment. Other enterprises for the welfare of man are benevolent and useful. We honour them all. "We wish them a growing and abundant success. But the .Missionary cause is superior to all others. It is more be- nevolent, more exalted, more glorious. It reaches to all the human family. It aims at nothing less, than to com- municate the blessings of the everlasting gospel through the whole extent of the earth's population. And notwith- standing all the difficulties which stand in its way, and which are so apt to discourage our faint hearts, it has a certain prospect of success. The undertaking, in which the friends of Missions are now engaged, is one, upon which future generations will look back, as we do upon the la- 25 bours of the apostles, and of succeeding Missionaries, in christianizing particular parts of the world. They will look back, and bless God, that he put it into the hearts of his people at this day, to begin the work of love. They will look back, and bless God for its accomplish- ment. And when the converted myriads of Bombay, of Ceylon, of Jerusalem and Asia Minor, of the Sandwich Islands, and the wilderness of America shall call to mind the commencement of those efforts in this country, which brought them to the knowledge of the truth, they will re- member our dear, lamented Worcester, and will associate his beloved name with all that Avas done for their salva- tion. In the history of the Christian church, they will, from generation to generation, read the history of our hon- oured Secretary, the principal agent in forming our various Missionary establishments abroad, and in all the efforts made by Christians in America for their support. And those who read his history in future ages, will form a far juster estimate, than we can, of the importance of the of- fice which he filled, and of the cause which he served. My hearers will not, I hope, charge me with a need- less digression in what I have said, when they consider that the character of the beloved man, who has been taken from us, was in reality identified with the Missionary cause. If the Missionary cause is insignificant ; so must we coi> sider the man, who made an offering of himself for its ad- vancement. But if that cause is great and excellent, — if it is, in truth, the cause of human salvation, the cause of 4 26 infinite love ; then the character of the man, who had so close a relation to it, and so distinguished an influence in promoting it, must have derived from that relation and that influence, a corresponding greatness and excellence ; and the office which was assigned him, as agent for so glo- rious a cause, must have been, in the highest degree, ele- vated and responsible. But I should be far from doing justice to the charac- ter of our Corresponding Secretary, if 1 should pass over, with no more particular attention, the manner in which he executed the functions of his office. In every office which he previously sustained, he so united talent and fidelity, as to gain an honourable place in the public esteem. But in this last office, he appeared before the world with a char- acter of more finished excellence. In this last office, all his talents and acquisitions, as a scholar and a minister, and all his virtues as a Christian, combined their influence to produce one grand result. And permit me to say, that when we look at his agency in this great concern, we see what God intended by the peculiarities of his character. Here those peculiarities were all turned to account. They conspired with the other attributes of his mind to produce in him such a remarkable fitness for his work, that no one was left to doubt for what God designed him. Our be- loved Secretary was as manifestly in his proper place in the kingdom of Christ, as the hand or the head is in its proper place in the natural body. In the station which he finally held, he exhibited a greater symmetry, and a 27 brighter and stronger expressiveness in the features of his character, than ever before. And now, you might as well think of doing justice to the character of Moses, without describing his agency in delivering the children of Israel from Egypt and leading them through the wilderness, or of Paul, without exhibiting him as the Apostle of the Gen- tiles, as to the character of Dr Worcester, without de- scribing him in this highest and most arduous sphere of his labours. The manner in which lie filled this office, you may learn from tacts. Learn it from those Reports of the Board which he wrote, especially the two last ; which, I will venture to say, would not sutfer by comparison with any performances of the kind, ever published in America, or in Europe. Learn it from his correspondence with the Iflknomrii B, -hould that interesting correspondence ever be made public. Learn it from the character of our various Missionary establishments in different parts of the world. The whole plan of these establishments, the principles on which they arc conducted, and the success which has at- tended them, are before the public. And I think it im- possible that any competent judge should not perceive the superior wisdom which they display. They evidently make an advance, in some important respects, upon pre- ceding establishments. They are all calculated for per- manent operation, and for permanent and increasing utility. They are conducted so manifestly according to the dic- tates of common sense, and of sober. Christian judgment, 28 that they have already done much towards silencing the ob- jections of opposers, and will, I am confident, soon unite all candid, pious men in the cause of Missions. — Learn too the manner in which our brother filled his office, from the influx ence he had with the community, and the success which uniformly attended his earnest appeals to them, in behalf of the funds of the society. The American people are a people of many eyes and ears, and, when possessed of suf- ficient evidence, are not prone to form an incorrect judg- ment. They will not continue to invest a man with the highest degree of influence over them, unless his conduct entitles him to entire confidence. This is specially true in regard to such a subject as this. Had there been any de- fect of the requisite talents in the Secretary, or had there been any thing exceptionable, or even suspicious, in his public or private conduct; the treatment he would have had from the community would have been very different from what he uniformly received. The various plans of Missionary operation, adopted by the Prudential Commit- tee, have repeatedly involved the Board in expenses, far beyond their resources. Had the good people of our country suspected any want of wisdom in those expensive plans, or in him who had a principal agency in concerting them ; they would not, at his solicitation, have so prompt- ly increased their contributions, and so generously relieved from embarrassment the operations of the Board. The evidences of the distinguished character of our Secretary, which I have now suggested, are before the 29 public. But there are other evidences, and those of a most interesting nature, which have necessarily been con- cealed from the. public eye ; I mean the steady, long-con- tinued intenseness of his mental labours in private, and the part sustained by him in the deliberations of the American Board, and especially of the Prudential Committee. Could the friends of our Missionary exertions have seen him in those deliberations, and those intense labours of mind, thev would have seen him in his strength ; and would have learned something of the secret spring of those systematic, public movements, by which the American Board and American Christians have been aiming to enlighten and save the heathen. It was one of the peculiar excellencies of Dr Wor- cester, as agent for such a cause, that he had the habit of investigating a subject more patiently and thoroughly, and, in all difficult cases, of suspending his judgment longer, than most other men. His mind was not indeed distinguished for that rapidity of thought, which might have helped him to decide and act with great promptness, as well as pro- priety, in ordinary concerns, but which, in business of great weight and difficulty, might have disqualified him for de- ciding or acting at all. He had the superior advantage of that slower and more exact movement of thought, of that longer reach of intellect, and that more particular and more consummate deliberation, which qualified him to look through all the relations of a great and complicated subject ; to foresee the distant results of measures under consideration; 30 to foresee dangers, and by seasonable precaution to avoid them ; and to carry forward a systematic plan, involving the greatest interests of the world, to a gradual, but sure accomplishment. He was the man, who, in these vast concerns, had nothing that savoured of presumption; no- thing precipitate ; nothing showy, visionary, or extrava- gant; and nothing of transient utility. He took time to form his judgment; but when formed, it seldom needed reconsideration. I might say of him, what could be said of few men living, that such was the fairness and thor- oughness of his investigations, and the judiciousness of his decisions, that it was scarcely necessary to inquire into the expediency or feasibility of any measure, which he delibe- rately recommended* It must be considered as a special token of divine fa- vour, that a man of such a character was raised up at a time, when exertions so benevolent and extensive were to be made, and that he was permitted of heaven to devote himself so long to the concerns of our Foreign Missions. Gladly would I increase the public esteem and affection which generally fall to the lot of men, who become public agents in business so weighty and complicated. The cares, * To guard against too exclusive a sense of the above remarks, I must be permitted here to express the same confidence in the other principal agent of the American Board, who was so constantly and intimately associated with the Corresponding Secretary, and whose talents, devotion to public duty, and indefatigable labours, entitle him to the respect, affection and gratitude of all who love the cause of Christ. 31 and labours, and anxieties, to which they are incessantly exposed, would, if fully known, excite more general sym- pathy. Without supposing them exempt from the mistakes and imperfections, always incident to good men, I am fully persuaded that, on the principles of human nature, a sta- tion which is so responsible, and which so far identifies their reputation and comfort with the spread of the Chris- tian religion, removes them to the greatest distance from temptations to self-interest ; affords the strongest security to the uprightness of their conduct, and gives them no ordinary claim to public confidence. It was one of the most valuable qualifications of Dr Worcester, and one of the most striking proofs of his greatness, that difficulties, however various and unexpected, never disconcerted him ; opposition and danger never pro- duced perturbation. He could experience many a tempo- rary discomfiture, without being either subdued, or dis- couraged. In those emergencies, which agitate and over- whelm men of ordinary minds, he collected new strength : his feelings rose to higher animation, and his understanding to mightier efforts. In many cases which occurred in the prosecution of his arduous business, he could see no present means of relief. Difficulties multiplied, and put on an appalling aspect. But in Iiim, there was no sink- ing, no trembling. The ultimate success of the under- taking was inseparably connected in his mind, with the faithfulness and almighty agency of Jehovah. He had confidence in God, and expected great things to be done 32 in this age of wonders. At times his way seemed to be hedged up with difficulties. But he had no doubt the difficulties would all be cleared away. Now, it was a night of thick darkness. But he expected the morning would come with its cheering light. In the greatest straits, he was so entirely a stranger to that despondency which enervates the mind, that he was all the while spon- taneously putting himself into a state of preparation for more powerful action. When others were disheartened, then was the time for him to go forward. Under every pressure, he acquired greater decision of purpose, and more intense ardour of feeling in favour of his object, and became more fruitful in arguments to prove its excellence, and in expedients to secure its accomplishment. I shall mention one more property which belonged to the character of our departed brother ; which is, that in, regard to the various objects of christian benevolence, his mind was well balanced, and his zeal well proportioned. I do not mean, that he gave such a portion of his own thoughts and feelings and labours to each benevolent ob- ject, as agreed exactly with its comparative importance. No intelligent being, who is not infinite, can ever do this. But I mean, that his judgment was not so biassed by the business which engrossed his attention, that he overlooked the importance of the business in which other good men were engaged. He guarded in a good measure against the fault, to which every man in a public station is liable, namely, that of looking so earnestly at his own particular 33 object, as to lose sight of others. Although, as Corres- ponding Secretary, he was occupied constantly, and for so long a time, with the labours of an office more public in its nature, and more extensive in its design ; he never ceased to feel the importance, or to love the duties of the pastoral office. His zeal for the Missionary cause did not lead him to undervalue the great and successful exertions of the present day, to promote other benevolent objects. Nor did his zeal for Foreign Missions prevent his feeling a deep interest in Missionary efforts for the benefit of our own country. It was obvious to him, and it was a senti- ment, which he took great pleasure in cherishing and ex- pressing, that the various objects, Avhich Christians are now labouring to promote, are, in the most important respects, one, and are all entitled to a far more liberal and efficient patronage, than they have ever yet obtained. I have now, I trust, faithfully, though not with the skill I could have wished, portrayed the leading features of Dr Worcester's public character. I have represented him as a man of distinguished eminence in the church. But pause here, brethren, just long enough to consider again, summarily, in what his distinction mainly consisted. He had nothing of that brilliancy of genius or of eloquence, and nothing of that enchanting popularity of manners, which gains rapturous admiration and loud applauses from the multitude. Part of his distinction consisted in his great distance from all this. He indeed had a powerful and well cultivated mind, and a taste of no ordinary refinement. 34 But if you look attentively at the man, you will see that his distinction consisted in that which worldly ambition would never covet. It consisted not in the emoluments, or the splendours, or the honours of his place. No. It consisted in his filling an office of vast and eternal conse- quence ; an office involving labours, and burdens, and anx- ieties, and sufferings, which are insupportable to human strength, and which must render any man, who sustains them, an object of public compassion, rather than of envy. It consisted in his pursuing the great business of that office with intensity of thought; with simplicity of aim; with inextinguishable zeal ; with the consideration and prudence, which experience inculcates ; and with the perseverance and activity of a man, who knows the greatness and good- ness of his undertaking, and who, relying not on the re- sources of his own mind, but on the help of God, and on the uncontrollable movements of his providence, resolves on its perfect execution. It consisted, in short, in his con- secrating himself and all that he had to a cause, superla- tively excellent, and in his studying, and labouring, and suf- fering so much, and, through the divine blessing, so success- fully, for its advancement. Thus you see that the distin- guished excellence of his character was such, that we must have something better than ambition, to aspire after it, and yet something worse than envy itself, not to do it reverence. But we must come to the closing scene of that life, which was so full of great and useful actions. Unremitted labour had created or increased various bodily infirmities. 35 Those infirmities had for some time been assuming a more and more alarming aspect. The consent of our friend to visit the establishments at Brainerd and Elliot was in part produced by his paternal solicitude for the Missionary cause in those places, and in part by a desire to repair that constitution, which his solicitude and his long-continued efforts for the Missionary cause had almost undermined. But that consent was not yielded without much anxious and devout consideration, and the best counsel of physi- cians and friends. As an arrangement of divine provi- dence, it may seem full of mystery, that he should be re- moved far away from his dear wife and children, from his pastoral charge, from his brethren, and friends, and native region, to die in the wilderness. What could have appear- ed more desirable to us, than that, in his last sickness, his pains should be alleviated and his heart comforted, by the tender assiduities of his own beloved family. They would have craved the opportunity of thus ministering to him in his sufferings, and of hearing from his dying lips his last paternal counsels, as one of the most precious blessings, ever to be enjoyed on earth. And what could have ap- peared to be more desirable, or to promise more good to the Missionary cause, than for his brethren and fellow-la- bourers to have some seasons of free consultation with him in his last days, and to be made acquainted with the views and emotions, which must have been produced in a mind, so mature and elevated as his, by the visible approach of death, and the dawn of eternal day. But the sovereign appointment of God was, that he should go far hence, to 36 sicken and die. The pains he took to learn the will of God respecting his absence, and the considerations, which finally convinced his hesitating judgment of the expediency of the voyage, stated particularly in a letter to the Treas- urer, must have given entire satisfaction to the public. So must his subsequent reflections, as exhibited in the same letter. — " It has been," he says, " no slight satisfaction to my mind, that I came hither in obedience to God's direc- tion, and not, as I would humbly trust, without some de- gree of filial submission, and confidence, and hope. What the end is to be, is not yet to be read. It may be the final exit from all earthly scenes, and the dropping of this slender tabernacle, though far away from its kindred dust, yet in the place, whether in the sea, or upon the land, appointed by sovereign goodness for its rest till the rising day. — It may be the accomplishment of something for life and immortality to the wanderers of the wilder- ness, or dwellers in the dark places of the earth, by an instrumentality so feeble, as to make it manifest that the excellency of the power must have been of God." — At the age of fifty, with a family requiring a father's as well as a mother's care, — a people holding his heart with a thousand ties, — a study, his loved retreat, ' Fast by the oracles of God,' — responsibilities the most weigh- ty, and objects of attention and action for which only he would live and labour, — one could not leave home for an absence so long, and with prospects so precarious, with- out many reluctances and regrets, and thoughts of seri- ous import, and movements of the inmost heart" — " But 37 " what is time, or place, or outward condition ? — God is at " all times, and in all places the same ; and to feel that we " are in him and he in us, is enough for happiness. To " feel that we are where he would have us be, and doing " what he would have us do, is all that for ourselves we " should desire." In the following quotation from the same letter, he expresses his mature, unwavering judgment as to the cause of Missions. — " One thing is settled in my mind ; and that ifc is a full and delightful conviction, that the cause of Mis- " sions has never held too high a place in my estimation, or v engaged too large a share of my attention. — It transcends. " immeasurably transcends the highest estimation of every ~ created mind. And what is the sacrifice of health, what * the sacrifice of life, to such a cause ? Be the event w hat " it may, — recovered health, or early death, — I never can " regret what I have done in this work ; — but only that " I have done so little, and with a heart so torpid." It would be highly interesting, were not my time ex- hausted, to trace the progress of our beloved brother, amid weariness, and infirmity, and pain, and yet amid many benevolent exertions, from New Orleans to our Indian es- tablishments. The heart of Jacob was not more fondly set on going down to Egypt and seeing Joseph before he died, than his heart was, on visiting those Missionary sta- tions. At a little distance from Elliot, he wrote the fol- lowing apostolic letter to the Missionaries at that place ; i letter which most strikingly shows you the sacred pas- 38 sion which possessed and ruled his heart. He says, — " In " various scenes and changes ; the perils of the sea and per- " ils of the wilderness ; in much weakness, weariness, and " painfulness, my heart has been cheered with the anticipa- " tion of being refreshed at Elliot. At present however, it " seems to be the will of our ever to be adored Lord and " Master, that the anticipation, so fondly entertained, should " not be realized. I bow to his sovereign pleasure, always " good, — infinitely good. Still my heart melts with longing, " with tenderness towards that consecrated spot— towards all " the members of the Missionary family, both those whom I " have seen, and those whom I have not seen ; and towards " the dear children of the forest, the objects of benevolent " instruction and labour and care. May the God and Fa- " ther of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and " the God of all grace, bring you nearer and nearer to him- " self, and keep you more entirely in his love, — grant you " abundant supports and consolations— make you faithful un- " to death. May he bless the school, and prosper the " work in the nation, and make the wilderness and solitary " place to be glad for you.— And when our labours and trials " on earth shall be finished, in his infinite mercy, may we " meet in his presence above, and rejoice in his glory for- " ever." When he arrived at Brainerd, May 25, he was ex- tremely feeble, and as it seems, looked upon the time of his departure as near. " God," he said, " is very gracious. " He has sustained me, as it were by miracle, thus far, and 39 " granted me one great desire of my heart, in bringing me u to Brainerd. And if it be agreeable to his holy purposes, " that I should leave my poor remains here, his will be " done." He was able to attend to no business, and to speak but little. In few words he addressed the mem- bers of the church, and some of the congregation. After that, though much exhausted, he expressed a particular desire that the children of the school, according to their request, should come in. " I want," — he said, feebly, and with tears, — " I want to see all my dear children, and to take them by the hand." They were then called in, and he took each of them by the hand, as they passed by his dying bed. Having all passed round in procession, they stood and sung a hymn. He was affected to tears most of the time. He then, in the most affectionate manner, addressed them, which in return melted them to tears There, on the seventh of June in the morning, — at that consecrated spot in the wil- derness, dearer far to him, than any city or mansion on earth, this servant of the church, worn out with fatigue, and exhausted with sickness, lifted up his eyes towards heaven, and with a delightful smile upon his countenance, fell asleep in Jesus. The grief of the Missionary family on this occasion, you shall learn from their own language. When beginning to write their Journal, the day on which their beloved counsellor and father died, they thus describe the over- whelming sorrow of their hearts. — " With reluctance we 40 " enter on the events of this day. Our thoughts recoil, " Our pen stops. — Tears darken our eyes. — We seek " where to weep. We enter into our closets and weep " there. We resolve to be men, and not children. We " resume the task. Our weakened hands refuse to per- " form their office. — We look at each other, and say, who " shall bear the doleful tidings ? A solemn silence casts a " still darker shade over the gloomy scene. Eveiy heart " is faint ; every head is sick ; every hand is weak." But the Missionary family at Brainerd are not alone in their grief. There is a general mourning. And this mourn- ing will spread through various and distant parts of the world, as soon as the tidings of Dr Worcester's death shall be heard. Our Missionaries in the East, and in the West loved him and confided in him, as a father, by whose ma- ture wisdom and faithful friendship they were guided and cheered in all their labours. How will their hearts bleed, when they hear that this beloved, honoured friend is no more ! — I might speak of the sorrow of his church and society ; of the Prudential Committee and the American Board ; of our Theological Seminary, in which he had been recently called to the office of a Visitor ; of the Massachusetts Missionary Society, and the American Edu- cation Society, and of other religious and charitable Socie- ties with which he was connected; of the churches and ministers of Christ ; of all the friends of Missions, and all the friends of man. 41 But it becomes us, brethren, to restrain our feelings, and seriously to inquire, in what manner we should bear this stroke of divine providence, and what use we should make of it. Here let us bless the God of all grace, that he has prepared a heaven of glory and blessedness for his faithful servants. O how sweet the rest of heaven, after a wea- risome journey through this wilderness. How blessed to be there rid of all imperfections and sins. Imperfections and sins our dear brother certainly had, or he could not have been human. He confessed them, and mourned for them, and looked to the blood of atonement for forgive- ness, or he could not have been a Christian. But from his life and death, we have the best reason to think that he now sees his Saviour face to face, and will serve him with perfect love, and enjoy him with perfect blessedness forever. We ought, brethren, to bless God for raising up a man of so distinguished a character, and making him the instrument of so much good to the church. That our de- ceased brother was thus fitted for the important places he occupied ; that he was continued so long, and enabled to make such efforts for the salvation of men, is to be attrib- uted to infinite goodness. We ought, with reverence and submission, to notice the hand of God in the place and circumstances of his death 6 42 The progress of the divine dispensations may soon show, and undoubtedly the light of eternity will show, that im- portant ends, and ends very near his heart, were answered by his dying at a Missionary station. It seems as though God meant in this affair, to set aside the wishes of his relatives, his people, and his fellow labourers here, for the sake of a great public good. — The man, who has here acted the most conspicuous part in the Missionary cause, and who has secured the strongest, tenderest attachment of the Christian community, is removed from his family and friends, and from the societies and individuals with whom he was so closely united in his various labours, and is carried away, by the divine hand, to a spot in the wil- derness, — a spot on which have centered so many chari- ties, and labours, and prayers. He is carried to the place where our beloved Kingsbury, with so much ability and success, began to collect and teach the Indian children. Though a sick and dying man, he has this great desire of his heart, — to see the consecrated place ; to see the dear Missionary family; to see and embrace the children of the forest, now the children of a Christian school ; and in words faint and few, to give his last counsel, his dying ben- ediction. — There he is, in the most tender and interesting moments of his whole life. There he commits his soul to his God and Saviour. There his body lies in the dust. There is his grave; and there will his grave-stone be erected. — And now, brethren, the happy consequence will be, that all the esteem and love, which Christians in A- merica have for his character, all their gratitude for his 43 services, all their sympathy for his sufferings, and all their grief at his death, will be associated with that Missionary establishment, and with the Missionary cause. The recol- lection that a man so great, and wise, and good, went to die on Missionary ground, must excite a new interest in the public mind. It will plead the cause of Missions with more effect, than the eloquence of a Whitefield. The place where Dr Worcester died, and where he sleeps in the grave, will be indeed a consecrated place. And who can ever go to that consecrated place, without emotions of mingled veneration and love and tenderness, at the remem- brance of the devoted minister of Christ, who came there to die. But in the minds of Christians, that place will be closely united with the cause which is there to be pro- moted. And so that precious cause will hereafter stand out to public view, as having the nearest connexion with all that was great and useful in the life, and all that was solemn and peaceful in the death of this beloved servant of God. To a cause endeared by so many tender and interesting associations, its friends will hereafter contribute with more liberality, and more pleasure. And a cause, recommended by such visible proofs of its magnitude and excellence, will conciliate the cordial attachment of many, by whom it has heretofore been disregarded. And now let me say to you, my hearers, — and would God 1 could say it to Christians in every part of the land, — if you wish, by some suitable mark, to express the af- fectionate veneration, which you feel for the character of 44 this servant of Christ; promote the cause which he loved. Promote it by jour substance, your labours, and your prayers. This will be a far better token of respect for his memory, than applauses or tears. If any of you, brethren, aspire to be great and useful like our departed brother; then copy that, in which his greatness and usefulness consisted. Be devoted to the cause of Christ. Let that cause be so near your heart ; let your affections, and desires, and pursuits so entirely centre in it, that it may, in some humble measure, be your cause, as it is Chris? s cause. If you have Christian be- nevoknee, and wish to increase it ; give it proper cultiva- tion. Do not set this celestial plant in a dark, cold, nar- row place, where it will droop and die ; but bring it forth to open day, and give it room to expand, and let the sun warm it, and the rains of heaven fall upon it ; and then it will grow, and become a great tree, and bear abundant fruit, which shall be for the healing of the nations. But, Oh ! my brethren, as I am about to close, the sorrowful theme returns. — I look around me in this sacred place, where our brother so long ministered in holy things, and where I was so often permitted of God to take part in his ministrations ; — I look into his house, where I have so many times enjoyed his edifying discourse, and united with him in family worship ; — I look to those societies and those meetings for business, where his presence was deem- ed so important; — I look to the Theological Seminary, 45 which hoped long to enjoy his visits ; — I look here, and there, — and, for a moment lost in recollection, I ask, where is our dear brother ? — But Oh ! the painful thought, — he sleeps in death ; — we shall sec his face no more. But shall we faint under this heavy stroke ? Shall his companions in labour — shall the friends of Missions — shall those who have gone to the heathen, be disheartened by this visitation, and say, with sinking discouragement, what can we do? — "Hast thou not known, hast thou not heard, " that the everlasting God, the Lord, the Creator of the " ends of the earth faintcth not, neither is weary ? There " is no searching of his understanding. He giveth power " to the faint, and to them that have no might, he increas- " eth strength/' — Did not the unchangeable God create our departed brother, and furnish him for his work ? Is the power of God diminished ? Is his goodness di- minished ? Is not he as watchful a l'ricnd, as faith- ful a Guardian of the Missionary cause, as he ever has been? Every instance in which he raises up a great and useful man to bless his church, is a new evidence of his inexhaustible goodness, and of his unalterable purpose to carry forward the work of love, till all flesh shall be sav- )d. God will repeat — he will multiply these evidences of lis goodness. So our beloved brother felt in the last lours of his life. He said, " Though I am taken away from this delightful labour, the Lord lives, and will raise up other instruments to carry on his work." Yes, let every Christian say, " the Lord lives, and blessed be my 46 rock." He will not forget his servants, who are labouring and suffering for him, either in Christian or pagan lands. To any of us, who are called to sustain offices of high mo- ment, and to perform difficult and wearisome duties, espe- cially to those, whose burden of care and labour is aug- mented by this afflictive visitation, he will not refuse to give assistance and support. How gracious and cheering his promise, " as thy day is, so shall thy strength be." Additional helpers that may be needed in our great Christian enterprises, he will supply; and he will supply them in season. In that day of glory to the church, Avhich is drawing near, God will raise up men, who will far outshine all who have gone before. O could you see in clear prospect, what will quickly be seen as a pres- ent reality, how would your hearts leap for joy. — Friends of Zion, — friends of the Missionary cause, lift up your heads, for Jesus lives. Jesus, infinitely greater than all human agents, — Jesus, the Saviour of the world, lives and reigns forever. Amen. SERMON, 1/ v DELITEIIED BEFORE OTOX UDITTiaiTTTDlT OF THE CONGREGATIONAL MINISTERS IN MASSACHUSETTS, AT THEIR r\L MEETING IH BO8T0 \1 A^ SQ, 1821. |{\ ELIJAH PARISH, D. D, CAMBRIDGE: PRINTED BY MILLIARD AND MLTCALF. :i. SERMON, LUKE ii. 14. ON EARTH, PEACK J GOOD WILL TOWARDS MEN'. Jesus Christ is the Prince of peace, the light of the world, the Savior of man. Other benefactors have been use- ful. They have civilized savage tribes; ihey have extended science and commerce; and established empires. They have founded churches, banished idols from their temples, and ex- tinguished the fire on the altars of human sacrifice. But these benevolent efforts are limited, partial, and transient in their ef- fects. While one side of the globe enjoys the sunshine of science and civilization, the other may he wrapped in dark- ness and barbarism. Where are the empires, which once promised to be as lasting, as their mountains ? The pacific reign of Jesus Christ will be as extensive, as the world, and continue as long, as the sun and moon shall en- dure. Long ages before the advent of the Messiah, patriarchs rejoiced in his day. Prophets and poets foretold, that the iron age of crimes and tears was parsing away, that the gol- den era was advancing, when peace would descend from heaven, the lion sport with the lamb, and the child play with the serpent. Sages admonished their disciples, to wait the coming of a superior teacher. Historians announced his expected ap- proach. Angels came down from the throne of God, with the new T s of his birth. The shepherds heard the music of their song, " Peace on earth, and good will towards men." Doctrine : It is the design of God, by the gospel of Christ. to establish lasting peace through the world. I. I presume, that God determines to establish universal peace ; because he has promised, that the holiness of the gospel shall be universal. " All flesh shall come and worship before me, saith the Lord." " The Lord shall be king over all the earth." " Up- on the bells of the horses shall be holiness to the Lord." Such extensive piety has not been known. This improve- ment of mankind will be effected by the gospel. " Grace and truth come by Jesus Christ," and " in him shall all the families be blest." The gospel is a system of morals and religion, de- signed to render men moral and religious. But war annuls the precepts of religion, repeals the statutes of morality, con- founds right and wrong. While war prevails, the gospel can- not have its full effect. The gospel requires men to do good. The very business of war is mischief and damage. The gospel requires men to forgive their enemies. Revenge is often the chief design of war. The gospel commands men to feed the poor and com- fort the afflicted. The sword drinks the blood of the afflict- ed, robs and plunders the poor, covers him with wounds, and leaves him half dead. Truth and sincerity are precepts of the gospel ; and are reputable in the dwellings of peace ; but the warrior glories in executing the work of destruction by artifice, by delusion, and stratagem. While the devout Christian sits pondering how he may com- fort the sorrowful, enlighten the ignorant, and reform the wicked, the man of blood is contriving and plotting, to van- quish yonder army, to ravage the country, covering the fields with the wounded and the dead. The gospel forbids murder. Yes, it does. But is not this the grand purpose of war ? Why else all the swords, and balls, and engines of death ? The combination of ten thou- sand men, to slay ten thousand, is not less murderous, than the resolution of one man to slay one man. Had Cain been a king, and marched an army to destroy his brother, would this have lessened his guilt ? Did God not include kings, when he said, " Thou shall not kill?" Did he not include their victorious legions? If one man may not commit murder, how many must unite to make it innocent and glorious ? May two, — two hundred, — two million ? Two million have no more right to murder and destroy, than two individuals. When pure Christianity shall cover the earth, avarice and revenge will be extinguished; ambition will he dethroned, and war expire. The acknowledged design of the christian religion is to induce men to love their enemies, to be like Jesus Christ, who resisted not evil. b it possible for such a man, his sword, and rush to the hill of battle? Can be bid the artillery blaze? Can he become tin' angel of death, and scalier plague and pestilence round the globe? When rulers, all possess this benevolence, who will proclaim the war ? When commanders have this spirit, who will order the battle? When the mass of mankind have the spirit of Christ, where will soldiers be found ? Where will you find a man to slay his neighbor ? The rendezvou iken. The shrill piercing, hoarse rattling instruments; the harsh clattering sounds of martial bands, are silent, as the deserted field of battle, where death pots in dismal solitude. All are gone to the house of worship, to celebrate the jubilee of peace, to join in the song of an- gels. Will they ever again carry fire, famine, and destruction into peaceful countries, the dwellings of helpless women, the mothers in Israel, the daughters of Jerusalem ? For such a bar- barons invasion, they must tear the last fibre of benevolence from their hearts, quench the last spark of humanity, kindle the (lame of malice and revenge. These are the passions, which push men on in the trade of war; these are the furies, which rule the man, in the rage of battle. Will not Christian- ity, when it shall become universal, arrest the ravages of war, and establish lasting peace ? e II. From the benevolent efforts, now made in the christian world, I infer the entire suppression of war. I do not mean, that any thing absolutely new is taking place. Somewhat of this kind has been done in almost every age of the christian church. But present exertions are probably more extensive and better directed, than in any former time. The exertions of christian philanthropy are not confined to a sect, or a country. To the protestant nations, and to the Greek church, a mighty impulse has been given. Many mem- bers of the Latin church, and some of them dignitaries, are coming forward to reform the world. Children and matrons, who receive charity themselves, bring their offerings to the treasury of the Lord. Ministers of religion and officers of gov- ernment, rich men and nobles, suspend their own pursuits ; princes leave their palaces, and kings come down from their thrones, to assist the corporations of benevolence. These so- cieties, though by different paths, are all marching to the same point, the peace of the world. If the Bible Societies obtain their object, peace will follow ; for peace is commanded in their sacred volume. If the Mis- sionary Societies succeed, peace will follow ; for the gospel requires peace. If the Education or Literary Societies accom- plish their hopes, peace will triumph ; for the great object of education is to enlighten the mind and direct the life. If re- ligion or science gain the empire of the human mind, the reign of peace is established ; for all rational religion and use- ful science breathe the spirit of peace. If twelve fishermen changed the moral complexion of the world, in spite of the laws, the religion, and the vices of Paganism, what may we not expect from the present move- ment of the christian world ! Christianity was a helpless Babe, slumbering in a manger of Bethlehem ; she is now a giant, rejoicing to run her course. Her friends were a handful of poor, illiterate Nazarenes ; they are now an innumerable host, possessing a great portion of the power, the science, and the wealth of the world. A vast accession of influence is acquired by the union o( numbers, by voluntary associations. Can all these engines move in vain ? Would the God of wisdom produce all these labors to no lasting purpose ? Would he create all these luminaries, to go out in darkness ? Pouring their beams in one direction, must they not scatter the clouds of war, dispel the darkness, and melt the vapors into a day of light, of peace, and glory ? III. God has promised his people a period of security and felicity, not compatible with a state of warfare ; hence I infer that wars must cease. "They shall build houses, and inhabit them; they shall plant vineyards, and cat the fruit of them. They shall not build, and another inhabit; they shall not plant, and anoth- er eat ; — mine elect shall long enjoy the work of their hands. They shall not labor in vain, nor bring forth for trouble. They shall sit every man under his vine, and under his fig- tree, and none shall make him afraid." These, and .similar passages, need no comment. They describe a state of comfort and security, which can never be known, while a banner waves, or a sword glitters in the hands of a warrior. Does any people enjoy such rest and felicity in the atmosphere of armies? Do those, who are defeated, conquered, vanquished, fleeing, falling, dying? Do the peaceful inhabitants, alarmed and driven from their homes ? The field of war is like the fabled sea of Sodom, in whose atmosphere no creature could live; along whose dismal coast, no fruit nor blossom was seen, no cheerful voice was heard. So in the region of war, no sound is heard ; but the riot of victory, the shout of revenge, the sigh of misery, the shriek of horror, or the groan of death. The dwellings of war are like those of Egypt, when solid darkness covered the land ; when no man could safely leave his home ; when death was in every house ; terror and dismay in every heart. Were these sufferings confined to men, to military men, we might be patient ; but another portion of the human family; 8 wkose sex renders them more defenceless; whose gentle voice cheers the distressed ; whose kindness binds up the wounds of an enemy ; whose piety soothes the anguish of his last mo- ment, woman, is often overwhelmed in the miseries of war. How often may it be said, " From the daughter of Zion, all her beauty is departed. Her tears are on her cheeks. Among all her lovers, she has none to comfort her. She has fallen by the sword." History confirms all this. Glance an eye at a single short series. What was the state of the Canaanites, assailed and subdued by Joshua? What was the state of the Jews, van- quished and led captive by Vespasian ? What was the state of the Romans, overrun and conquered by the barbarians of the North ? What has been the condition of these conquerors, during the wars of modern Europe ? Read again the history of those revolutions, and say — I think, I hear you say, " War is a monster, more enormous than the fabled giants of old, who piled up the mountains to scale the heavens. While he walks on earth, his head wrapt in clouds, his arms encircle the world. From one hand he hurls all the weapons of destruction ; from the other, he scat- ters the seeds of famine, plague, and pestilence. He beholds a country of prosperous husbandmen and merchants ; he robs and plunders, and leaves them wretched. He devours an army, and cries, ' give, give.' The sun shines ; but no har- vest rewards the laborer. The rain falls ; but no verdure clothes the ground ; the monster has trodden on the fields } his breath has blasted the country." Yes, my friends, your picture is not so shocking, as the hideous original. But, blessed be God, he has prom- ised, that those, " who plant, shall eat the fruit." Hence the fury of war is passing away ; a brighter day is dawning. " Comfort ye, comfort ye, my people, saith your God ; speak ye comfortably to Jerusalem, and cry unto her, that her war- fare is accomplished." IV. I infer that wars will cease, when Christianity, purified, shall become universal ; because the Christians, in the first ages of the gospel, refused to bear arms. They supposed that their religion forbid war. Men, who received their religious opinions from Christ himself, or from his apostles, or their immediate successors, refused to bear arms, or perform any military duty. For about three hun- dred years, Christians would suffer martyrdom, rather than be seen to a camp with sword or spear. Justin and Tatian, in the second century, both declare war 'unlawful, and Satan its author. In the second and third cen- turies, Tertullian and Alexander, strongly, condemn the cus- tom of war. Tertullian inquires, " Can a soldier's life be law- ful, when Christ has declared, that he, 'who takes the sword, shall perish with the sword ?" Shall he, who is not to revenge his own wroogs, briog others into chains and imprisonment, torment and death ?" Lactantius, the friend of Constantinc, and tutor of his son, says, " It can never be lawful, for a righteous man to go to war, whose warfare is righteousness itself." To these names of renown, in the christian church, we may add Cyprian, a martyr in A. D. 258, with Ambrose, Archelaus, Chrysostom, Jerome, and Cyril ; all of whom were of opinion, that war was unlawful 10 Christians. The practice of those early Christians agreed with their principles. In the rebellions against Verus and Severus, which extended from A. D. 170 to 195, the Christians were suspect- ed. Tertullian appealed to the pagan world, and repelled the slander. "You defamed us," saith he; " not a Christian could be found in any of the rebel armies." This fact is worthy of all notice. Those armies constituted, nearly, half the legions of the Roman empire, stationed in Egypt, Palestine, and Britain. Yet, not a Christian soldier could be found in their ranks. : 10 The writers of those times make a distinction betweed Sol- diers and Christians. Clemens calls Christians the Peacea- ble, and says, " They never use sword nor bow." About A. D. 180, Ireneus says, "The famous prophecy, 1 Their swords shall be turned to ploughshares, and their spears to pruning hooks,' was then fulfilled." " The Chris- tians have" saith he, " changed their swords and their lances into instruments of peace. They know not how to fight." Speaking of the same prophecy, Justin says, " This is ful- filled, for we, who in time past killed one another, do not now fight with our enemies." Accordingly, Celsus, an enemy to Christianity, in the third century, brings this, as a reproach, that Christians would not bear arms for their emperor. He tells them, that if all were of their opinion, the empire would be overrun with barbarians. So do friends and foes, unitedly, testify, that the first Christians would not bear arms." When Constantine, a warlike prince, professed Christianity, then probably a military life became reputable with Christians. After this we find them in his armies. A dreadful change was produced.* From that period war has prevailed among the professed disciples of Christ. But though from every quarter of the globe, we now hear of standing armies, they will be dis- banded, and return to their peaceful homes. Though the noise of battle is yet heard, and ramparts of destruction rise in eve- ry country, those mounds shall fall ; those scenes of death and desolation will be enlivened, by the dwellings of domes- tic felicity, covered with the blossoms of spring, and the har- vests of autumn. Though the ocean thunders, her billows rising with blood, those hostile navies shall return to their ports, to waft the heralds of peace to their appointed stations. " The Lord will bless his people with peace. He maketli wars to cease unto the ends of the earth." "Nation shall not lift up sword against nation ; neither shall they learn war any more." * See an Essay by Thomas Clarkson. 11 IMPROVEMENT. I. Hence we learn the importance of publishing this final result of christian influence. This may kindle hope and zeal, to hasten the event. If the gospel be destined to produce universal peace, it ought to be known, that suitable measures may be adopted, to accom- plish the object. The interesting fact ought to be proclaimed from the pulpit, from the press, from the senate, and from the throne. The mighty theme of universal peace may well awaken the most powerful strain- of human eloquence, the tongue of the learned; the pen of the ready writer; the songs of angels. When they were permitted to announce the reign of peace, they seized the moment with raptures of bliss. Shall not the Is of the churches, in the same spirit, proclaim peace on earth ? Is not this the gospel? Did not the angels understand the gospel ? II. Docs not the subject afford encouragement to multiply Peace Societii Peace, and all its blissful must be produced by hu- man exertion-. No irresistible charm, no secret incantation, no miraculous voice, will silence the fury of war. No. The sings of peace must be obtained, as other blessings are. As science, wealth, or piety are, by persevering effort and self-denial. The day of enthusiasm has gone by. We do lumber on the couch of the sluggard, to procure the fa- vors of heaven ; but we go forth to seek them. Vigorous and extensive means will introduce universal peace. These societies are powerful means. They embody a mass of sound principles, facts, and arguments. They may influence public opinion, and break the sword of the conqueror. III. We learn the importance of electing rulers, who are men of peace. Rulers are the makers of war and peace. They carry the olive branch to every door ; or cover the fields with swords 12 and spears. If the people elect men of peace for rulers, wars must stop. The people do not declare war ; it is never their interest. They do not consent, till they are deluded and infat- uated by designing men. Were all rulers such men, as the first Christians, no more blood nor treasure would be wasted ; the banner of blood would no more wave over the land ; our brethren would no more march to the field of battle. Warlike rulers are the Achans of their country, the Pando- ra's box, which fills the world with misery. To revenge - some imaginary wrong, to maintain some childish point of honor, to enlarge their territory ; to advance their glory, they associate their names with scenes of havoc and carnage. They blow the trumpet ; they rouse the passions ; they in- flame their people with the lust of plunder and revenge, and send them to the field of slaughter and death, to feast the hawks and vultures of heaven. Will not your regard to your own interest, and your concern for your children and posteri- ty, persuade you to elect rulers, who are lovers of peace ? You are the real sovereigns of the country. Unless you re- quire peace from your rulers, you will be accountable to God* for every drop of blood, which may be shed. Every man, w T ho is slain in war, will be an accusing spirit, before the tri bunal of divine justice. IV. Is it fancy, or do you all seem to suggest the wisdom and necessity of discouraging and suppressing all excitements to war. These prolong the mischief; these prevent the advance of peace. Yes, my friends, I agree with you, that if any excitements do exist, they ought to be suppressed, as war itself, in disguise. Destroy the means of mischief, and you destroy the mischief | itself. It may, perhaps, be reasonably inquired, whether all mili- tary honors, and titles, and rewards, have not the baleful effect j of promoting war. What could more violently tempt men to the field of destruction, than splendid rewards ? Governments 13 - well understand this art of making dupes and victims of their subjects. Does not all martial music have the same effect, by produc- ing delightful associations with the trade of war ? The war song of the poet, the harmony of his numbers, the sublimity of his style, the splendor of his descriptions, in- flame the passions with the fury of battle. Might not some historians be more useful, if they distinctly related the wickedness and miseries of war ? May I not in- quire whether some of them do not, though perhaps uninten- tionally, siu against benevolence and humanity? With allur- ing eloquence, with all the magic charms of style, they describe the march of armies, the splendor of their arms, the valor of their commanders. In all the pomp of gay description, the field of action rises in distant view. The columns move ; the plumes and banners wave. You hear the thunder of the bat- tle, and the shout of victory. The grandeur of the exploits, the sublimity of the varied scenes, delight the imagination, and you applaud the murderers of your brethren. But the historian does not carry you to the spot. You do not hear the cries and shrieks of the wounded. You do not see the shattered limbs, the mangled bodies, the convulsive agonies of the dying ; — the blood streaming, — the field red, — no physi- cian, — no friend to give relief or consolation. You see not the ground covered with limbs, and bodies, and heads, their ghastly visages, still marked, with rage and despair. I ask, are not all military establishments, particularly, milita- ry academies, excitements to war ? Must they yet exist ? Whore then shall they be established ? In our cities, where better principles of peace and commerce prevail ? Or near our colleges to pervert the study of the liberal sciences, and poison the waters of the sanctuary ? No. Do not 1 hear you all say, " Rather let these seminaries of blood, these colleges of misery and murder, be erected far from the region of do- mestic felicity, and the pleasant walks of social life, on some mountain's lofty top, in the region of eternal winter, where 14 the blossoms of spring were never seen, where the tiger's yell was never heard, amid the brew of storms, and the howlings of tempests ; or on the side of a smoking volcano, in the sub- urbs of death and destruction, where lightnings flash, and thunders burst ; there let the gloomy walls of the military academy rise. Let tombs, and graves, and bones, mark the path to this dis- mal spot. Let the standing army of the country, from a thou- sand fields of battle, transport the skulls and shattered. bones of the slain, to build the fortress of their defence, to raise their own fabric. The region of Smolensk and Moscow, of Leipsic and Waterloo, present their mournful offerings. The banks of the Beresina and Rhine, of the Danube and Nile, raise their voice to be relieved, from the relics of recent battles. As these men of war proceed in their labors, instead of sup- plication and praise, let the war whoop and the song of death, the clang of arms and the roar of artillery, announce their morning toils, their evening rest. On their banqueting room, some artist, who delights him- self with human misery, may paint the carnage of war, Nim- rod, and Caesar, and Tamerlane, with their veteran bands, covering the field with death. The blood flows ; the piles of the dead rise, and shrieks of anguish torment the air. In their apartments of rest, if such spirits ever rest, the surgeons may be drawn, with their knives and saws of ampu- tation. The victims of battle ; — streaming wounds, shattered limbs, pale visages, ghastly bodies, surround the slumbers of the young warriors. Their passions, their thoughts, their studies, and their dreams, are stained with blood. Instead of reading the word of life, they are studying the volumes of death, the arts, the deceptions, and stratagems of murder and destruction. Instead of making men happy, by cultivating the arts, and extending the news of salvation, they are ripening their plots, sharpening their swords, and hardening their hearts, to make themselves adepts in the trade of blood and misery. 15 While the hosannas of the sabbath ascend from the temples of peace, there the day is marked by no morning prayer, no evening sacrifice, no memorials of a Savior's dying love. No pious traveller bids them God speed. No minister of divine mercy preaches to them peace and good will. The sacred oracles, the whispers of the Holy Spirit, the songs of Zion, the sighs of devotion, the melting strains of redeeming love, never echo from these walls, surrounded with the images of revenge and murder, of pestilence and death. Most devoutly do we all pray, that the time may be hasten- ed, when these mansions, like Babylon, may be left desolate, and without inhabitant; when thorns shall come up in these palaces, nettles and brambles in these fortresses, the habitation of dragons, and a court for owls, where the vulture shall seek her mate, and the satyrs dance; where no rain nor dew shall fall, the streams be pitch, and the dust brimstone; where the thistle shall shake his lonely head, the moss whistle in the wind, the fox look out at the windows; the grass of the wall waving round his head. Why dost thou build these towers, thou man of blood ? Thou lookest from thy halls to-day ; yet a short time, and silence shall be in the house of war ; the blast of the desert comes, and howls in thy empty courts. Once I saw a military parade with a rapture of delight. Now, wiser and better men approve them, as useful and necessary. I venerate their virtues, and am persuaded, they will permit me to inquire, and anxiously inquire, whether they are indispensable, and whether they are not powerful excite- ments to war ? Do not the regular march, the waving stan- dard, the sparkling armor, the animating music, array the hydra of war in the robes of pleasure? Alas! my friends, your fathers have found a field of battle, very different from a mili- tary review. Is not a review a pleasant summer sea, just ready to be roused to a furious storm, to shipwreck the mari- ner, to deluge the country ? Is not a review a slumbering volcano, covered with blossoms, ready to burst with rivers of 16 fire ? Where, ivhere, is the ruler, who will stop this moral pestilence. His name shall be enrolled in the annals of glory, his reign shall commence a new era of virtue and felicity. " Swift fly the years, and rise the expected morn, Oh spring to light, auspicious Babe, be born." I say nothing of the vice and crimes of military days ; I say nothing of their expense, which, with the peace establishment, would furnish instructers for more than two million children. Who would mourn the loss of these days ? A few warriors, wading to glory, through the blood of their neighbors. The grave would mourn, comparatively vacant and solitary. Death would lament the loss of the war song and brigade review. His arm is weak, his arrow is broken ; he waits the slow operations of disease and age ; the monster seems expiring himself. " Where," he cries, " where is the spirit of War ? Where is the noise and charm of military days ? Where is the parade and music of battles ? Oh, that it were with me, as in other times, when w T hole nations made arms their sport and pleasure ; then I destroyed thousands and myriads in a day, as at Arbela and Pharsalia, at Jerusalem and Ashkelon, at Pavia and Warsaw." When will men be wise ; when will they suppress these occasions of war ? V. May I not say, the subject calls on us to unite in pro- curing permanent peace. Reasons for hope and confidence may well inspire the heart with zeal and energy. The gospel will become universal, and peace will finally prevail. But means must be used. Lazarus will rise ; but the great stone must be rolled from the tomb. God will have us use means, even when he intends to perform a miracle. Kings and conquerors love fame and power too well, to rest in peace, while their subjects are foolish enough to be butch- ered for their pleasure. Who then is willing to march and perish for the gratification of his rulers ? Him, alas, have I 17 offended. Who is willing to endure pain, and sickness, and death, that a few generals may be heroes ; that a few commis- saries may drive their chariots, the wheels red with their blood? Yes ; that day when subjects resolve no longer to be sacri- ficed, peace will gladden the world. When will this day arrive ? May I not call on all the disciples of Jesus, to raise their voice, to enlist under no captain ; but the Captain of your salvation ? I know you cherish his spirit. Mild and gentle, holy and harmless, his every act was benevolent. He came, not to destroy ; but to save life. He healed the sick ; he fed the poor, and relieved the widow and the fatherless. So, like him, to-day, have you come up to his house, to comfort the widow and the fatherless, a delightful service, for a divine Master. You hear his voice ; " Ye have done it unto me." I know your benevolent wishes, and I know the limited means of many. The country is burdened ; your people are burden- ed, with the enormous expenses of past wars, of a standing army, and preparations for wars to come. The merchant and the farmer are rifled of their best profits, to gorge the dragon of war. When this monster expires, our country will be rich ; they will feed the poor, and make the widow's heart sing for joy ; her barrel of meal, and her cruise of oil will never fail. Then the treasuries of our hospitals, our missionary and char- itable societies, will overflow with the contributions of peace. Silver and gold will abound, as in the days of Solomon. Say then, to the weary sword, " It is enough." But here I must not forget to urge the instructers of our schools, to impress their children with the odious nature of revenge, of ambition, and war. Imbue their hearts with the temper of the lamb. Whole countries may be saved by your mild lessons. Your children will soon be men, and form the mass of society. What they are, the nation will soon be. Immensely important is your responsibility. I need not call on mothers or daughters, to join the celestial throng, to proclaim peace on earth. You can never, patiently, see your brothers, your husbands, your sons, torn away, to perish on the frozen mountains of the north, nor the burning 3 18 plains of the south. In history women are renowned, as the friends of peace. In the civil wars of England, two or three thousand repaired to the House of Commons, to implore the blessings of peace. In this glorious cause will you not exert your influence in society, which is greater than senates or armed legions possess. I beseech you, with the eloquence of truth, pronounce your abhorrence of hands, which are red with the blood of the slain. Do we not all unite in petitions of peace to our own legisla- tors ? No man can estimate the effects of their influence in private, of their votes and eloquence in public. To them we look as our guardian angels ; to them we fly, for permanent peace. As men, as our representatives, as Christians, do they not give us a pledge, that we shall not be disappointed ? The Presidents, and Professors, and Preceptors in our colleges and seminaries, I congratulate, on the distinguished eminence, which they enjoy. You are forming those minds, which soon may control the public affairs of the country. The science, the wisdom, the eloquence, which you teach, may carry peace and safety from the palace to the cottage, and delight the world with the song of angels. We will not believe it possible for you to neglect one lesson, which may animate your pupils with the love of peace. If they make the attempt, is not their victory certain ; will they not be the saviors of their country; must not their power of persuasion, in the court and senate, deliver the world from the havoc and carnage of war ? My brethren in the ministry have prevented my urging, or recommending the work of peace to them. Your repeated votes, your unanimous votes have proclaimed the benevolent sentiments of your hearts, and given a solemn pledge of your attachment to your Savior, as the Prince of peace. Still may I not ask myself and you, whether we have done all in our power, to promote this precious cause ? Have we thoroughly instructed and convinced our own people ? Our nobles are from ourselves, and our governor proceeds from the midst of 19 us. Our people direct the affairs of the Commonwealth. This Commonwealth has a powerful influence in the councils of the nation. If our general government were to say to the troubled sea of war, " Peace ; be still," might not the effect surpass all calculation ? Let us not rest, till our people have adopted the heavenly doctrine of peace on earth. Let us not imagine our duty done, while any thing remains, which can possibly be done. Though the fires of war be again lighted up in Christendom, your faith is unshaken. The Prince of peace will not forget his own name, nor blast the hopes, which rest on the promises of his word. Had I any mode of access to the kings of the earth, forget- ting my humble capacity, 1 would beseech them to have mer- cy on the family of man, and stop the effusion of human blood. I would say, Sires, though you are as gods, you must die like men. The wanton destruction of life is murder; the blood of armies may be required at your hands ; grasping at more, you may lose what you have. Remember Bajazet, a captive, exhibited, as a show in an iron cage. Remember Charles, a prisoner, and executed before his own palace. Behold Na- poleon, chained to a rock in the ocean. These were the warriors, who made the world tremble. Yes, my beloved hearers, the work is begun ; the work is advancing. Peace Societies are established in Europe and America. Mankind are opening their eyes. The sun of righteousness and peace is rising. The black night of war is passing away. The fountain of peace is breaking forth to refresh the world. Does not the sublime subject command all the affections of your hearts ; all the efforts of your power ? If ye hold your peace, will not the stones cry out ? Will not tin 4 temples, profaned ; the fields, red with blood ; the beasts and cattle, destroyed ; the lostsjririts of a thousand battles, carry in their charge, before the throne of the great Eternal. Does one man of the human family resist the doctrine of peace ? Is one man grieved, hurt, or displeased ? I only 20 ask. and I do affectionately ask, such a man, — are not the unavoidable sufferings of mankind, numerous and terrible enough ? Can you wish the life of mortals, to be shorter, o~ death more certain, or more dreadful ? Do not consumption, and poverty, and pestilence, and fe- vers, render the days of man sufficiently uncertain and mis- erable ? Why, then, will you wantonly add all the undescrib- able horrors of war, to the long catalogue of human woes? At home, on a bed of down, surrounded by dearest friend^, do you wish the agonies of death more terrible ? Go near the bed of a dying parent, or a dying child ; be- hold the agonies of their last hours. Are not thejr anguish and misery enough for them to endure, or for you to witness ? Would you wish, they were far off on the ocean, to meet a violent death, without a friend to soothe the last moment: without tire consoling offices of religion ? Would you tear ihem from their pillows, and send them to expire on the field of battle ? Do you, indeed, wish to multiply the sufferings of life, and aggravate the horrors of dissolution ? Do you wish the t of the widow to flow with keener anguish ? Do you wish the shriek of the orphan more dismal ? Do you wish the king of terrors, a wider range, a more rapid march, a more frightful appearance ? Do you wish more domestic sorrows, more public calamities, more sighs and groans to load the air, more tears to water the world ? If not ; then implore and beseech the God of peace, to stop the fury of war ; enrol your name among the friends of peace ; and join in the song of angels ; a Glory to God in the highest; on earth, peace, and good will towards men." Amex. SERMON DELIVERED AT THE ORDINATION OF THE REVEREND ARNER MORSE AS PASTOR OF THE FIRST CONGREGATIONAL CHURCH EN NANTUCKET, dec. 16, 1819. BY PHINEAS FISH, A. If. PASTOR OF THE CHURCH IN MAR6HPEE. BOSTON : PUBLISHED BY CHARLES EWER, NO. 51, CORNHILL. Sewell Phelps, Printer. 18-20. SERMON. GALATIANS IV. 11. / am afraid of you, lest I have bestowed upon you labour in vain. THE greatest of mankind cannot command that success to their designs and labours, which they ar- dently desire. We have a melancholy illustration of this remark in St. Paul's ministerial connexion with the people, to whom the words of the text were ad- dressed. His intercourse with them at first was of the most flattering kind. The Galatians received him as an angel of God, even as Christ Jesus. Such was their partiality to his person and ministry, that, had it been possible, they " would have plucked out their own eyes and have given them to him." They appeared to profit by his preaching; received the doctrines of the Gospel ; began their course in the spirit; and for a time they ran well. But the most favourable beginnings do not always terminate in the most happy results. Many, that hear the Gospel, manifest a very wavering, unsettled disposition ; easi- ly forget what has been inculcated on them, and, for want of established principle, are easily drawn over to the side of errour. The Galatians listened to cor- rupt and self-interested teachers — discarded the doc- trine of justification by faith only — trusted in the deeds of the law for righteousness : addicting them- selves to observances merely ceremonial, they re- garded " days, and months, and times, and years," according to the exploded ritual of Moses, and were willing to be in bondage again to the weak and beg- garly elements of that system of forms and shadows. So lamentably were they turned about, and so deeply had they imbibed the errours of their seducers, that the Apostle charges them with having embraced ano- ther Gospel; asserts that Christ had become of none effect, because they had fallen from that system, which alone ensures divine grace to men. Good reason had he then for uttering the complaint of the text. The feelings of St. Paul are not peculiar to himself. Every real minister of Christ will, in like circumstances, be conscious of the same emotions, and express them in a similar manner. I. What are the objects, in view of which a Chris- tian minister labours ? These are in general, to exhi- bit truth, and to render it effectual in reforming the hearts and lives of men. If, through the preaching of the Gospel, men are not aroused from their natural lethargy; convicted of sin; cut off from self-depen- dence ; induced to receive Christ for all the purposes, for which he has been exhibited to men, and to pur- sue to the end of life holiness in all its branches, the end of this sacred institution is defeated. According to the Scriptures, the object of preaching is the display of divine benevolence in the salvation of souls. By this mean it pleases God to impart life to the dead; light to them that sit in darkness; liberty to captives, and prelibations of heavenly blessedness to bosoms before the native possession of unrest and despair. When St. Paul received his commission to preach the Gospel, the Lord announced to him the object of his designation in these words, — " I now send thee to the Gentiles, to open their eyes, to turn them from darkness to light, and from the power of satan to God, that they may receive forgiveness of sins, and inheritance among them that are sanctified Jby faith that is in me." The actual effects of his preaching, the Apostle describes in his first epistle to the Thessalonians. "Our Gospel came not to you in word only, but also in power, and in the Holy Ghost, and in much assurance — and ye became followers of us and of the Lord, having received the word in much affliction, with joy of the Holy Ghost." The fruits of the Apostle's labours among them were so signal as to excite the attention of surrounding regions. "Ye were ensamplcs to all that believe in Macedonia and Achaia. For from you sounded out the word of the Lord not only in Macedonia and Achaia, but also in every place your faith to God-ward is spread abroad ; so that we need not to speak any thing. For they themselves shew of us what manner of entering in we had to you, and how ye turned to God from idols, to serve the living and true God ; and to wait for his Son from heaven, whom he raised from the dead, even Jesus, which delivered us from the wrath to come." In another place he observes, " for this cause also thank we God without ceasing, because when ye received the word of God, which ye heard of us, ye received it not as the word of man, but (as it is in truth) the word of God, which effectually worketh also in you that believe." Preaching the Gospel is therefore, by the appoint- ment of the great Head of the church, an institution, whose object is the most benevolent and useful, which the world ever witnessed. It has been the source of good to men already more extensively, than any other mean. It will, to the end of time, be the occasion of blessings still more rich and wonderful. These blessings, the faithful minister of Christ wish- es to see his people enjoying. He does not think his object attained, when his people respect him, yield an external compliance with his directions, and furnish him with the means of subsistence. These things are indispensable in their place. These are duties bind- ing on them, and grateful to him. The spirit of re- ligion requires the people to " honour the Lord with their substance," and to " esteem their pastors very highly in love for their work's sake." But though not wholly indifferent to such considerations, in preaching the Gospel, he has an inconceivably higher purpose. In view of this, it may be truly said, that he " seeks not theirs, but them" His labours have a view to the Christian edification of the souls committed to his charge. His prayer is, that grace, mercy and peace from God the Father, and from the Lord Jesus Christ, may be multiplied unto them. His unfeigned wish above all other things is, that the souls of his people may be in health and prosper; that the mem- bers of his flock may vie with each other in their love and devotion to Jesus Christ; that they may " consider one another, to provoke to love and to good works;" that religion may be viewed by the world as the supreme good, and that God may be glorified in all things. What servant of Jesus Christ realizes such success of his labours to the extent of his wishes ! How ma- ny are compelled to respond to the prophet's com- plaint — " I have laboured in vain, and spent my strength for nought," and to declare to their people with St. Paul, " I am afraid," &c. This melancholy state of things we shall contemplate more nearly, by inquiring, in the second place, II. When the minister of Christ may be said to bestow " labour in vain ?" — A sense of unprofitable- ness among his people is one of the greatest trials of a minister's life. It deadens exertion, impairs his com- forts, depresses his spirits, and may even have a seri- ous influence upon his health, and conduce not a little to bring him down to a premature grave. To be constrained to say with St. Paul, " I have great heavi- ness and continual sorrow in my heart," is a state so gloomy and exhausting, that flesh and blood cannot endure it long, unless powerfully supported from on high. There is cause for the Apostle's complaint, 1. When the people flagrantly neglect religious means. In every society there will be some, and in certain places, alarming numbers, who undervalue and neglect the institutions of God. The Bible, un- consulted, slumbers in their dwellings, encumbered with the dust of years; prayer is a strange work; the holy Sabbath is profaned by sloth or sinful indul- gence ; the solemn and interesting duties of the house 8 of God, the ministrations of his word, are treated as the inventions of men. The Christian watchman, concerned for their awful state, visits them ; warns them of the consequences of an impious life ; entreats them to escape from the wrath to come ; possibly prevails on them for a season to assume a greater degree of decency. But still unhallowed nature lives, revives again, and draws back the constrained wor- shipper to his wonted course of ungodliness. When the preacher finds that, through the laziness and im- piety of the people, he is left to preach only to empty seats and naked walls; when no better success fol- lows, if religious opportunities are brought even to their doors ; when entreaty and solemn remonstrance work no reformation; when perhaps the preacher's very presence is eluded, for the sake of avoiding im- portunity on a disagreeable subject; then is the time to use the language of the text; then may he feel, in a manner peculiarly pungent, that he has bestowed his labour in vain. 2. When in a regular use of means, men remain unreformed. To secure a constant attendance on means of religion, is of great importance. — Religion cannot flourish till this be accomplished; nor will it flourish then, nor indeed even have existence, unless men go farther than merely to yield an outward con- formity to those customs and ceremonies, which are commonly thought decent and indispensable in the ser- vice of God. But how many flatter themselves they have done their whole duty, when they have attended the publick worship of God, though rather as spec- tators, than earnest worshippers ! — How many retire 9 from the house of God, and immediately recommence their habitual course of iniquity ! — Content with ap- proving the sermon that condemns their practice, they persist in the neglect of the most essential duties of life. They still venture to commit the sin, which they are solemnly assured will exclude them from the kingdom of heaven. When the minister of Christ perceives persons of this sort sitting insensible as stones under discourses, that might almost awake the dead; in the hearing of reproofs, that would cut a man of common feelings to the heart ; when the sound, " Thou art the man,"' produces no change; when years roll on, and there is no sensible turning to the Lord, no answer to the heavenly call, no mo- tion, not a finger stirred toward the promotion of one work of evangelical obedience; when these carcases of death are still presented from year to year amid the most solemn occasions of religion, and no more symptoms of returning life, than at the beginning; it is time for the preacher to say with St. Paul, "I am afraid," &c. 3. When his labours only provoke opposition. This happened to Christ, to his immediate followers, and more or less to all the preachers of the Gospel, who have tolerably resembled them. The unhumbled are always interested in justifying themselves, and charging with errour such instructions as condemn them. It is no uncommon case for some of the hear- ers of the Gospel (as the Galatians treated St. Paul) to count their minister an enemy, because he tells them the truth. — Sometimes they are induced to for- sake his ministry, suspect his motives, throw out sar- 2 10 casms against his measures, to speak disrespectfully of his understanding and his heart, and in various ways to obstruct his interest and usefulness. When any thing like this comes to be the case, He only, who has all hearts in his hands, and causes all their de- vices to subserve the promotion of his own glory, can determine how far benevolent exertions in behalf of mankind may prove unavailing. 4. When, amid much of the form of godliness, there is little or nothing of the power. It is not for us to determine in all cases, when such is the state of things. At all times, both ministers and people have reason to dread and watch against it. A round of duties may be performed, and yet the heart wax more and more averse to the real spirit of the Gospel. Its humiliating truths may only inflame pride, and rouse up that hostility, which is but too natural to every child of apostate Adam. The life may be regular, and the heart cold — prayer may be made, without a spark of devotion — petitions may be offered, with a secret hope in the mind, that they may not be an- swered — many works may be done, not to glorify God, but to answer selfish ends — Christ may be pro- fessed, without becoming a proper object of trust, even without being regarded with a single right emotion — men may be just in their own eyes, while in the ac- count of God they may be a people, that have no knowledge, and far from righteousness. If such be the state of an individual or a community; if, amid all their regularity, the heart be not devoted to God ; if the sin ivithin be not forsaken; if the mind be not transformed by the renewing of the Holy Ghost ; if 11 Christ be not esteemed the only Saviour, and above all price, the condition of such a people is deplorable ; the prospects of their minister (if his own soul be awake,) is trying in the extreme. Like Herod, such a people may seem to hear gladly and to do many things — yet as to the great affair of salvation, they might as well have never heard of the Gospel. While such is the state of a people, their minister knows that, at present, he labours in vain. /). When men hold the truth in unrighteousness. The doctrines of the Gospel commend themselves so readily to the consciences of men, that many are per- suaded of their truth, whose hearts are yet not pene- trated by their power. From various sinister motives, not a few zealously advocate right principles, while their practical influence is greatly disregarded ; and thus Christ is wounded in the house of his friends. The truth was revealed, not that men might specu- late, but live. Every doctrine of the Gospel is intend- ed to improve the mind and morals of human beings; and whenever the IJoly Spirit does indeed take of the things of God, and shew them to the soul, holy fruit must follow. But the truths of revelation often dwell more in the head than heart. Men allow themselves to be too much directed by impulses on the mind ; puffed up with conceit of superiour attainments in the knowledge and favour of God; buoying up their hopes by a perversion of the doctrines of " Christ within :" enlightened, but not sanctified, they are tempted to look down upon others, as from a vast elevation, and not only despise them in their hearts, but sometimes sorely to reproach them with their 12 tongues. Such persons will not endure sound doc- trine. To talk of good tempers, Christian duties, and moral order, is esteemed by them no better than heathen philosophy; and a preacher can scarcely mention good works without suspicion of heresy. When such is the state of a Christian society; when the people relish nothing but dry doctrinal disquisi- tions, and matters of doubtful disputation, the faithful servant of Jesus Christ has special occasion to tremble for the ark. Persons who have fallen into this errour, usually by an uncommon warmth of feeling, and large expressions of love and zeal, call up the attention of men to remark the more their deficiencies in sobriety and uprightness of deportment; and religion, in conse- quence, receives an almost incurable wound. In anti- cipation of such a state of things, Christ cautioned his disciples, " if ye know these things, happy are ye if ye do them." St. Paul complains that, by reason of such persons, " the name of God was blasphemed among the Gentiles;" and declares that " the wrath of God is revealed from heaven against all ungodliness and unrighteousness of men, who hold the truth in un- righteousness." But in this way, Christ is " set for the rising and falling again of many;" and through them he becomes a " sign to be spoken against." When the minister of Christ sees some in the church carried about with diverse strange doctrines, or defil- ing themselves by sin, walking openly without shame, as enemies of the cross of Christ; when he perceives others, who had put forth the buddings and blossoms of promise, destroying all hope by an untimely blight ; when the love of many waxes cold ; when errours in- 13 crease, corruptions multiply, jealousies, divisions and contests ensue; then is the time when the faithful pas- tor feels most powerfully of all others, that he has laboured in vain. III. In the third place, let us contemplate for a few moments the consequences of receiving the Gos- pel in vain. The Gospel implies the greatest grace, that has ever been made known to the world. Preaching is the ordinary method, in which it has pleased God to display this grace to their view, and to inculcate it upon the mind. " For after that in the wisdom of God the world by wisdom knew not God, it pleased God by the foolishness of preaching to save them that believe." When, therefore, by the preach- ing of the word, the heart of man becomes susceptible of religion in its genuine power and influence, the en- mity is slain ; the needful change of regeneration has passed ; the whole man is deliberately devoted to Christ, and every faculty prevailingly yields itself to his service. When the word becomes effectual, the Christian pastor becomes a sweet savour of Christ in them that are saved, a savour of life unto life. The change, that takes place in the hearer, has ordinarily a distinguished effect in the circle in which he moved ; and especially upon the whole course of his own future existence. While in this world, he has reason to thank God, through Jesus Christ, for the blessing of redemption, and for numberless others, which are inseparably attached to it. His life now bears the character of wisdom, where folly and madness once reigned unrivalled. He now steadily pursues the no- blest ends by the most proper means. He lives as 14 one, who designs to live forever. His sentiments, conversation and behaviour, bear a marked reference to that inevitable hour, when the frail tabernacle of flesh must be dissolved. When that hour arrives, he quits the world with a song of triumph on his tongue. Death, that seems to destroy, lays the foundation for permanent glory. It brings him home to God ; and he goes to enjoy, in the bosom of his reconciled Fa- ther, that fulness of joy, of which already he has re- ceived precious foretastes. — When the word preached is without profit, there is of course a most awful re- verse. Folly is then conspicuous, the lamp of wis- dom glimmers and trembles, in order to its going out forever. Present comforts are scanty and perishing. Respecting the future, fears and dreadful stupidity alternately prevail. Death is dreaded, but never pre- pared for. The soul, as the ground that " beareth thorns and briars, is rejected and is nigh unto curs- ing; whose end is to be burned." As therefore the effectual preaching of the word is that which instru- mentally saves men ; whenever the same word is re- sisted and despised, it must operate as a "ministration of condemnation." The preacher { is a watchman, stationed on the walls of Zion by her own everlasting King. If the people hear his warning and turn, their souls are delivered ; but if they hear not, neither turn at his reproof, they will die in their sin, and their blood be upon their own heads. The sinner has not rejected man, but God. He has affronted not only supreme majesty, but he has despised unrivalled mercy. The faithful pastor is afraid for his impenitent hearers, and he has reason for his fears. If they persist in causing 15 him to labour with them in vain, having had much be- stowed upon them, much will be required. Instead of exulting in them as his "joy and crown in the day of the Lord Jesus," he must hear the dread denuncia- tion, " Depart ye cursed," &c. Reflections. — 1. We discover the deep ruin that in- volves the human family. This is declared in that economy of grace, which the Father of mercies has contrived in order to repair the ruins of the fall; but still more deeply and awfully is the same fact de- clared, in the incredible abuse, which mankind in all ages have heaped upon the Gospel. It were natural to suppose, that men, as lost creatures, would hail Christ as the delight of the human kind ; would bow the knee to him in ecstacy of joy, and inquire into the contents of his Gospel with more eager search, than they employ, who dig for hidden treasure. But when we behold the wickedness, the errour, the profane abuse, the misconceptions of these sacred truths, into which men fall, and in which they remain with ap- parent contentment; when we behold the evasions, the false reasonings, the refuges of lies, to which so many resort, and from which it is so difficult to drive them; and when the conviction forces itself upon us, that all these methods are devised in order to elude the force and strictness of the religion of Christ; when we contrast this conduct of the sinner, with the inex- pressible love of Christ, and the boundless liberality of God the Father, we are obliged to perceive, that the depravity of the natural heart is great, great beyond expression, and baffling all attempt at apology. 16 2. Preaching appears to be one of the most im- portant employments. It is the institution of God. It has pleased him, that the most important interests of human beings for time and eternity should be plac- ed in indissoluble connexion with a faithful dispensa- tion of the word. It has been the means of reforma- tion and final rescue of millions of mankind from the pressure of present evils, and from the wrath to come. It will be the means of comfort and salvation to mil- lions more even to the end of time. It is repre- sented in Scripture as a high honour conferred upon man, and the first of men are unworthy of such a dis- tinction. St. Paul speaks of hiuiself as the chief of sinners, who was yet honoured of God to be put into the ministry; and he confesses that he was not fit to be called an Apostle. The preaching of the Gospel is an office, too, that attaches to it some of the most re- markable promises of God. " Faith (says the Apos- tle) cometh by hearing, and hearing by the word of God — how shall they believe in him of whom they have not heard ? and how shall they hear without a preacher?" The importance of preaching appears from a survey of the nature and state of man. Our fellow-creatures are busied in various worldly occupa- tions. They need a minister to investigate sacred truth for them, who can give himself wholly to these things, and can teach others, what they have not lei- sure to find out for themselves. Men are forgetful: if it were not the stated duty of some one to put them in mind, the knowledge of the most important truths would be in a short time wholly lost. Men are averse to the Gospel : if God had not raised up and maintain- 17 ed in his ministers, able and watchful advocates for the truth, the Gospel had long since been utterly pervert- ed, religion had been a mass of corruption — and errour, wickedness, and consequent misery, had overspread the earth. We have seen already, how many are the occasions of fear in the breast of a minister of Christ, arising from the corruptions of men. How much would these occasions be multiplied, and the sum of human evil in this world and the next be increased, were there no preachers of righteousness to reprove sin, and, in the name of the Most High, to place them- selves in opposition to the overwhelming Hoods of errour and impiety ! 3. The work of the ministry is an anxious task. The Apostles of Christ past through unparalleled trials and hardships in preaching the Gospel. — There are trials, fears and perplexities now, and ever will be, while human nature remains the same. None can de- scribe, how much is implied in fully preaching the Gospel of Christ. When we consider the depth of the mysteries revealed; the character of the Author of revelation, and that of the beings to whom it is made; the nature of its truths; the almost endless va- riety of characters, to whom they are to be applied; and that the eternal life, or endless perdition of the hearers must be the consequence ; the preaching of the Gospel appears at once difficult, and calculated to impress the mind with a sense of mighty respon- sibility Dear Brother in Christ — You are now about to take upon yourself this weighty trust. Soon the hands of the presbytery will be laid upon you ; after ,1 18 being devoted to God in prayer, you will receive a solemn charge to be faithful in the sacred office. In the prospect are you ready to exclaim, " who is sufficient for these things ?" — Remember him who hath said, "my grace is sufficient for you," and learn to go forth to your labours relying on that divine promise. The trials, that come to all, may fall heavily upon you. If you intend in all cases to please God, rather than even the best of men, this must be your case. But be not disheartened. Never for a moment think of suppressing the mention of important truth from fear of human opposition ; but prudently, affec- tionately and plainly preach the Gospel of Christ. We hope, that the desire of exalting the divine glories of the Saviour, and presenting a large number of pu- rified souls to him, as the trophies of his victorious grace, will stimulate you to unwearied exertions in the sacred calling. We hope the Spirit of God will guide you into all truth, and enable you to speak to others from experimental knowledge. As has been related of an ancient Christian bishop, who, being made the blessed instrument of converting almost a whole city from idolatry to the faith of Christ, being informed on his death-bed, that three or four individuals still remained, addicted to the pagan rites, devoutly called God to witness, how much it pained his soul, that so many remained in an unconverted state; so with re- gard to yourself, dear sir, may the thought of a few souls perishing forever, be most affecting, and prove sufficient to arouse you to strenuous action. Remem- ber him, who hath said, " be thou faithful unto death, and I will give thee a crown of life." And now. 19 Brother, "we commend you to God, and to the word of his grace, which is able to build you up, and to give you an inheritance among all them, that are sanctified." 4. It is a solemn consideration, that any people has a minister of Christ to dwell among them. Their duties are reciprocal. If it be incumbent on him to teach, it is no less so on them to learn. If he be among them by the appointment of God, they must one day give account for the kind of reception they have given him. Brethren of this church and society, we trust you have this day one to be set over you in the Lord, who will approve himself a "pastor after God's own heart, to feed you with knowledge and understanding." We hope he will be kindly entertain- ed among you, and that you will endeavour that your love for him burn with an intense and an increasing flame. Remembering how much oftencr separation between minister and people is effected through an insensible diminution of respect and tenderness to- wards each other, than by any signal failure, be not forward to notice trivial faults; but carefully conceal them with the mantle of charity. Wait on his minis- try with constancy, patience and candour. Bear a part in all his afflictions. Let him not suffer incon- venience by parsimoniously withholding from him your support in temporal things. Let it not be thought a great thing, that he reaps of your carnal things, while he sows to you spiritual things. You cannot better " honour the Lord with your substance," than by bestowing a liberal portion of it on him, that labours with you in the word and doctrine. If your minister 20 be suffered by you to remain weighed down with a load of cares, arising from embarrassed circumstances, you will eventually defraud your own souls. Pray for him, that the Lord's pleasure may prosper in his hands; that his "doctrine" may "drop as the rain, and distil as the dew — as the small rain upon the ten- der herb, and as the showers, that water the grass." Bear in mind the eternal results of this day's solemni- ties. If your minister labour with you in vain, he will be to you a "savour of death unto death." Dying impenitent, your condemnation will be greater than that of fallen angels, who have never received the overtures of mercy. But if you receive his words, you will be a " people saved of the Lord." He will cause all things to " work together for good." " The Lord God will be a sun and shield ; he will give grace and glory ; and no good thing will he withhold from such as are upright in heart." Let this numerous assembly suffer a word of exhor- tation. As the creatures of God's power, you are destined for another world. For this transition, the preaching of the Gospel is intended to prepare you. Some of you, it is hoped, will be the better for the admonitions you have heard from the lips of the ser- vants of God, throughout eternal ages. Others, with means equally perfect, may have been hitherto " wax- ing worse and worse ;" their slumbers have been deep- ening ; their marks of reprobation are constantly grow- ing more apparent. Ministers and people will have a solemn interview at the tribunal of Christ. Very soon they will be exhibited to assembled worlds, either as " faithful stewards of the mysteries of God," or else 21 receive the indelible stigma of having clone the Ci work of the Lord deceitfully." At that time it will be said to every one of you, either, "Well done, good and faithful servants;" or else, "Depart ye cursed!" I will not attempt to describe, what our feelings will be on that momentous season. But, dwelling much on such meditations, let your hearts be enlarged in prayer for the ministers of Christ, that they spend not their strength for nought; and for yourselves, " that ye receive not the grace of God in vain." — Amen. CIJARGEe BY THE REV. HENRY LINCOLN, OF FALMOUTH. Dearly beloved Brother in the Lord, IN the name of the Ordaining Council, here convened, I do now solemnly charge thee before God and the Lord Jesus Christ, who shall judge the quick and the dead at his appearing and his kingdom, that thou take heed to the ministry, which thou hast re- ceived in the Lord, that thou fulfil it Many precious souls, over whom thou art now ordained, who are bound with thee to the judgment, will henceforth be looking up to thee for thy prayers, thine instructions and example, to point out to them the way of delive- rance from the wrath to come, and the narrow path, which leads to the kingdom of glory. Look well then to thine own heart, and see that it be right with God, that with right views and feelings, thou mayest ever address the consciences and hearts of men. Take heed to thyself and all the flock, over which the Holy Ghost hath made thee overseer, to feed the church of God, which he hath purchased with his own blood. Preach the word. Handle it not deceitfully. Preach it clearly, pungently and experi- ' 23 mentally. Teach not for doctrines the commandments of men; and although the time is come, when many will not endure sound doctrine, yet fail not to declare to them all the counsel of God, whether they will hear, or whether they will forbear. Teach not smooth things. Prophecy not deceits. Seek not to please men, especially of corrupt minds, lest you be not the servant of Christ. While the subject of discourse is solemn, let the manner of address be sweet. Speak the truth in love. The most important truths are often lost to the hearer by a severe and forbidding manner of communication. By your instructions and your life, always let your people understand, that you are determined to know nothing among: them save Jesus Christ and him crucified. Preach the discriminating doctrines of the cross, although most offensive to the carnal heart — although they be a stumbling block to Jewish prejudices, and folly to Grecian wisdom. Proclaim to sinners the entire depravity of the natural heart, and the infinite evil of sin. Tell them they are debtors to the whole law, and can make no restitution for sin, and that by the deeds of the law no flesh living can be justified. — Point them to the infinite atonement of the Lamb of God. Declare fully and forcibly the eternal and es- sential divinity of Jesus Christ, that all men may hon- our the Son even as thev honour the Father. Teach sinners that they must be bcrn again, or they cannot see the kingdom of God. Inform professors of reli- gion, that the best evidence of their renovation is love and good works, and that the necessary consequence of a new heart is a new life. Declare God to be a 24 holy and righteous Sovereign, and dwell with pleasing admiration on his electing love to his dear chosen ones. Fear not to say, that he will have mercy on whom he will have mercy, and whom he will he hardeneth. Enforce obedience by the eternal and tremendous sanctions of the holy law. Say you to the righteous, that it shall be well with him, for he shall eat of the fruit of his doings; wo unto the wicked, it shall be ill with him, for the reward of his hands shall be giv- en him ; and that at the last judgment, these shall go away into everlasting punishment, but the righteous into life eternal. Search the Scriptures with persevering diligence, that thou mayest be a scribe well instructed, bringing out of thy treasure things new and old. Look well to the state of thy flock, and feed, with a shepherd's tender care, the sheep and lambs of Christ's pasture. Administer the holy ordinances of baptism and the Lord's supper to the proper subjects, and bless the people in the name of the Lord. Direct in the discipline of the church, and purge out the old leaven, that it may be wholly a new lump. Be more disposed to prayer, than to vain disputation, and look to the wisdom which is from above, rather than to that which is from beneath, to direct thee. Assist in the ordination of all whom you believe God has called and qualified for the sacred work of the ministry. Frequently visit your people, to know their spiritual condition. Counsel and pray with the sick and the dying, and comfort those that mourn. Be in- stant in season and out of season. Reprove, rebuke, and exhort with all long suffering and doctrine. Pa- 25 tiently endure, and as much as in you lies, live peace- ably with all men. Be not overcome of evil ; but overcome evil with good. Thus let thy holy and blameless life be a living comment on thy preaching. — Be thou faithful unto death, and Christ shall give thee a crown of life which fadeth not away. And now, dear Brother, go forth in the strength of the Lord, and in the power of his might. Put on the whole armour of God, and contend earnestly for the faith. And may the Lord bless thee with a long life and an useful ministry, and give thee many precious souls, at last, as the crown of thy joy and eternal re- joicing in the great day of the Lord. — Amen. RIGHT HAND OF FELLOWSHIP. BY DAVID L. HUNN, A. M. Pastor of the Calvinistic Congregational Church and Society in Sandwich. THERE is an intimate, and an indissoluble union subsisting between all the churches of Christ. Thej are established upon the same immovable ba- sis ; are actuated by the same inspiring motives ; and are unitedly engaged in promoting the same benevo- lent object — the glory of God in the salvation of men. However separated from each other by time or place, sea or land, they are all one in Christ Jesus. This lays a foundation for a most intimate and en- dearing relation to subsist between all their respective spiritual members. They all belong to the same kingdom — they have all one God, one Redeemer, one Sanctifier. They have all drunk at the same fountain; and been all nourished with the same spiritual bread. They are all contending with the same enemies ; are all struggling against the same trials ; are all pursuing the same course ; are all following the same leader ; and will all, ultimately, arrive at the same place, and engage, conjointly, in the same blissful employment, forever. 27 Such are, indeed, all branches of the same vine, all members of the same body, and have all one hope of their calling. They are connected by a celestial bond, the strength of which neither intervening rivers nor mountains, oceans nor seas, can ever break or impair. Does such a union subsist between all the churches of Christ, and between all their respective spiritual members? — Then who can doubt the propriety of giving the right hand of fellowship, on occasions like the present ? But there is another consideration, which renders this part of our ordination service still more pertinent and interesting. Ministers of the Gospel are united to each other by ties still stronger, if possible, than are those, which bind together the great Christian family. They cherish a fellow-feeling peculiar to themselves. They have pains and pleasures, sufferings and enjoyments, with which the stranger intermeddleth not. Being engaged in the same delightful, yet arduous service; feeling, in a degree, the same tremendous responsibility ; and experiencing, at times, the same almost insupportable trials, they are prepared, at once, to enter into each other's feelings — to bear a portion of each other's burdens — and mutually to participate in each other's joys and sorrows. This consideration, my dear Brother, is calculated to lighten, in a degree, the almost insupportable bur- den, which, it is presumed, now presses upon you. Comforting must be the reflection, tliat you are surrounded by those, who have felt what you now 28 ieel, and who, in consequence, are prepared to relieve you, in some measure, by their sympathetic emotions for you, In their name, and at their request, I now, dear sir, give you this right hand. I give it to you most cor- dially. It is a pledge of our Christian and ministerial affection for you. By this significant token, first in- stituted by the Holy Ghost, in reference to the min- isterial work, we cheerfully acknowledge you as a brother, and fellow-labourer with us in the Gospel vineyard. Accept it, therefore, as expressive of the welcome reception we give you to the sacred office of the min- istry ; and of the joy that we feel in inducting you, as a labourer, into this interesting portion of the Lord's heritage. Accept it, as expressive of our confidence in your ability to discharge the duties of the office, with which you have this day been invested— as expressive, too, of our belief that you have been taught of God; that you have undertaken, from right motives, to preach the Gospel ; and that you will keep back nothing that may be profitable to your hearers — but with zeal and fidelity, declare the whole counsel of God, and thus show yourself *' a workman that needeth not to be ashamed, rightly dividing the word of truth." Accept it, also, as expressive of our readiness to es- tablish and maintain ministerial and Christian inter- course with you, and with the church, whose oversight you have received in trust. So long as you continue earnestly to contend for the faith once delivered to the saints, and to adorn the 29 doctrines of God your Saviour in all things, so lono- will we, with all readiness of mind, cooperate witli you ; — so long will we hold ourselves in readiness to advise and consult with you, and, as occasion requires, to assist you in the great and good, but arduous, diffi- cult, self-den\ing and responsible work, on which you have voluntarily entered, and to which you are now solemnly con sec rated. Bui I would again, my Brother, request you to accept this right hand, not in compliance with the di- rection of my fathers and brethren, who have assisted in your ordination, simply, but as expressive of my own personal interest in the transactions of this day. With devout thankfulness would I recognize the hand of God in preparing the way for the establish- ment of one of Andovtr 1 * sons, in this section of the ' Ps heriti Greatly would I rejoice that the Lord is directing titute churches to apply to that School of the Pro- phets, for pastors to break to them the bread of life. Greatly would I rejoice that the Lord has directed this church to make such application ; and that you, my Brother, have been designated to fill this important station. With no ordinary feelings, be assured, do I discharge the dutv assigned me, of welcoming you hither as a minister of Jesus. May the flame of Christian be- nevolence, enkindled in that sacred seminary, whose inestimable privileges you have been permitted to en- joy, never decline till you are prepared to adopt the triumphant language of the great Apostle — "I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have 30 kept the faith* and henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of glory." Yet permit me to remind you (without dampening the ardour of your feelings) that you are entering the Lord's vineyard at a time, when the Christian minister must expect trials. Indeed, the business, to which you have set your hand, and we trust, your heart, has always been attended with trials : but various circumstances seem now to indicate, that trials of no ordinary kind await those, who faithfully advocate the cause of truth. Errour is abroad in the earth ; its advocates are numerous, if not powerful; and with us, who have espoused the cause of truth, it be- comes a question, involving momentous consequences, whether we shall give up the contest, yield the points in debate, and throw away the very essence of the Bible, or endeavour, to the best of our abilities, to de- fend, support, and establish the fundamental doctrines of revelation. The former, /cannot do. The latter, in conjunction w T ith your fathers and brethren, I trust you will zeal- ously attempt. But I again remind you that, in doing this, you must anticipate trials. You must expect to meet with op- position — with opposition that will, at times, try your faith, your patience, your prudence, and your every Christian grace. Yet, be not disheartened. The Lord is on your side. The cause of truth will pre- vail. Wield, skilfully, the weapons of the Christian warfare, and you have nothing to fear. May the good Lord guide you, my dear Brother, and bless you, and give you to see great things in Nantucket. Great things will, unquestionably, be 31 done here in time; and may your eyes see them; mav your labours and prayers help them forward. After the part we have taken in the transactions of this day, God forbid that we should forget your insu- lated situation, or cease to pray unto Him, who walk- eth in the midst of the seven golden candlesticks, that he would afford you much of his promised presence, assistance and direction ; that he would succeed all your ministerial labours ; enrich you more and more with the gifts and graces of his Spirit; and make you the honoured instrument of turning many to righteous- ness, who shall, one day, shine as the brightness of the firmament, and as the stars forever, in the kingdom of God's glory. The members of this church and society, on whose account we are now assembled, will accept our united and most cordial congratulations. With devout thankfulness to God would we bow the knee before him, and abundantly utter the memo- ry of his great goodness, in that he hath remembered you in your destitute state, and, as we would humbly hope, provided you a pastor after his own heart. — You need not be told, that we are highly gratified in the choice which you have made, and in the commenda- ble spirit of unanimity, harmony and love, which have apparently marked your proceedings in this great con- cern. No less gratified are we in being permitted to contemplate with you the encouraging prospects, which this solemn and auspicious day opens to your view. You have now, my brethren and friends of this church and society, beheld the man of your choice, in solemn form, by prayer and the imposition of hands, 32 set over you, as } T our pastor and teacher. Receive him* therefore, with all humility and gratitude. Receive him as a precious gift from Him, who is head over all things to the church. Receive him as an ambassador for Christ, who, in his name, is to pray you to become reconciled to God ; to deliver to you the messages of eternal truth, and to guide, assist and cheer you on your way to immortal glory. May the endearing re- lation, this day consummated, between you and him, long be continued a source of permanent blessedness to both parties. May mutual affection be regarded as the most substantial evidence of success attending the labours of him, whom you will henceforth denominate your beloved pastor. — Long, very long, may you and your children rejoice in the light of his doctrinej and cherish an increased disposition to esteem him very highly in love for his work's sake. And when all earthly connections shall be dissolved, may you and he, may each and all of us, be so unspeak- ably happy as to have an open and an abundant en- trance ministered unto us into the everlasting king- dom of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. — Amen. god's ways, not as our ways. lfiU ■ Yet dare arraign the whole stupendous plan, •'If but that little part incongruous seem." Is it not, then, becoming — is it not just, that we should hold our peace, Avhen God proclaims his will concerning any one of his creatures; and that we be deeply sensible of our own impotence, before we undertake to scan his works, or sit in judgment over his conduct ? 2. God acts for Eternity. This is the other fact relating to the divine government, which I would mention in this connexion. And I know not what consideration can impress the mind with the convic- tion, that God's ways are necessarily and incalculably higher than our ways, if it be not the fact of their eternal destination. Nothing, surely, would create a greater difference in the opinions and conduct of two human beings, who should undertake to decide what would be most for their final happiness, than the view they might take of the duration of their existence. To him who looked no farther than the close of his earthly probation, it might seem rational enough, to spend life in gratifying the appetites of the body, and pursuing the round of pleasures which a fleeting world affords ; — while to him whose eye was fixed upon a future and eternal state, the same conduct would appear little short of madness. If, then, a difference of view respecting their future destination^ necessarily produces, among men, so great a differ- ence in opinion and conduct, why should not the infi- nitely wider difference which exists, between our 12 views of eternity, and those which God takes of it, render his ways and thoughts, not only higher than ours, but immeasurably unlike them ; — and unlike what they would be, if he consulted only our tempo- ral good. But if God has formed men for eternity, then, to give such a direction to his Providence, as shall ulti- mately promote the highest interests of that state, is no less a proof of his wisdom, than it is of his benev- olence. Nor does it alter at all, in his view, the re- ality of those interests, nor the supreme importance of taking measures to promote them, that those whom they concern, do not always perceive them, or are not disposed to regard them with the attention which they deserve. The child is not less in danger, who is sporting on the brink of a precipice, because he is wholly ignorant of his situation ; nor is the parent less kind for rescuing him, though he do it in opposi- tion to all his entreaties to remain where he is. Let him have time to discover the dangers from which he has escaped, and he will requite the friend who delivered him, with the warmest gratitude of his heart. With infinitely more reason shall we, my brethren, if we trust in God, look back in eternity, upon some of the darkest and most distressing occur- rences of our earthly pilgrimage, and bless the hand which chastised us with its severest strokes, and dealt out to us the most bitter ingredients in the cup of sorrow. What man will undertake to say, that the Al- mighty may not be promoting, in the most direct and effectual manner, the highest good of his creatures. 13 at the moment when his Providence is spreading its heaviest clouds over their present prospects ? Be it so, that in accomplishing this result, a thousand ten- der ties are broken; the most endearing relations dissolved ; and the whole train of events with which their influence was connected, left to move on without them, — it is only a momentary breach, which, how- ever much it may appear a disruption to us, will be found at last, to have been only a connecting link in the mysterious chain of Providence. "What I do," said our Saviour to one of his disci- ples, "thou knowcst not now, but thou shalt know hereafter." Little did the Patriarch of Israel imagine, when, rcpiningly he said, "All these things are against me ;" that they were so eminently for him ; — that the system of Providence, which he deplored as most portentous in its aspect, was a cloud big with bless- ings to him and his posterity ; and that, having dis- charged its contents, it would suddenly disappear, and leave the sun of prosperity to shed its mildest beam* on the evening of his days. Still less, did the discon- solate disciples of Jesus think, when their Master w T as torn from them, and hurried to the cross, that the event which annihilated their hopes of an earthly kingdom, was to accomplish the real object for which he descended from above. "We trusted," said two of them, as they journeyed to Emmaus, "that it had "been he, which should have redeemed Israel." Lit- tle did they then suspect, that the death of Jesus had, in fact, accomplished the redemption of Israel, in its highest and best sense ; — that in proof of it, their Lord had already risen from the grave, and was even 14 then conversing with them, and endeavouring to rea* son them out of their unbelieving despondency. Was ever Providence so dark ? — Was ever Providence so benignant ? But suppose the world had no experience on this subject. Are not the moral perfections of God, as revealed in the Bible, enough to awaken our confi- dence ? Do not his wisdom and knowledge, his holi- ness and justice, his goodness and truth, afford suffi- cient security for the rectitude of his administration? Do they not render it certain, that he will do nothing, which is not in the highest degree worthy of his character, — infinitely conducive to his own glory, and the good of his intelligent kingdom ? The course he may take to accomplish these results, may be as far above our comprehension, as the Heavens are above the Earth ; but it will be only in the duration and ex- tent of its blessings. Cease, then, our murmuring thoughts. Our Heav- enly Father knows infinitely better than we do, what system of Providence will contribute most, to our present and future good. With him, we maycheer T fully, as well as safely, leave ourselves, and our friends, with all which concerns them and us, for time and eternity. Surely, my brethren, these are considerations which impart consolation to us, under our present be- reavement. The dispensation of Providence, which we have been called to experience, is, indeed, dark and mysterious. But will it not lighten our burden, and alleviate our sorrows, to remember, that all our afflictions are of God's appointment ? That the u Stroke, which has severed from us, an endeared and venerated Pastor, is inflicted bj a Father's hand ; and forms a necessary part of a great and good system* by which he is seeking to accomplish the final happi- ness of his chosen people ? It was to fulfil an important end, in the scheme of Providence, that our Pastor was raised up, and endow- ed with those moral and intellectual qualities, which fitted him for extensive usefulness in the world. It is to fulfil another, and a still more important end, in the same plan of Providence, that he has been called to another world. There, we trust, he lives, and with augmented powers, devotes his unwearied labours to the service and glory of his God and Redeemer. Why, then, should we murmur? He is not lost to God — though for a time, he may seem lost to us. And who is it, that has called him to another field •(' labour, but he who in mercy first gave him to us, and to the church on earth. Yes, — and let the excla- mation fill our hearts with gratitude, — "The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away ; blessed be the name of the Lord/' "Though clouds and darkness are round about him, righteousness and judgment are the habitation of his throne." "He will not always chide, neither will he keep his anger forever." "For he doth not afflict willingly, nor grieve the children of men." But great and precious as are these assurances of the word of God, it will not — it cannot be concealed, that the loss we have sustained, is one of no ordinary magnitude. I confess, when I look around, and sur- vey the deep and mighty chasm which it has produ- 10 ced, not only in this church and region, but in the> christian world, I cannot help exclaiming — "O daugh- ter of Jerusalem ! What shall I equal to thee, that I may comfort thee, O virgin daughter of Zion ? For thy breach is great like the sea, who can heal thee?" The death of Dr. Worcester, is an event, which every friend of God and man may sincerely deplore. Such were his qualifications for usefulness, such the steady and well-directed zeal, with which he devoted himself to the good of mankind, that it was impossible his life should not have become an invaluable bless- ing — as his death has proved to be a general loss. I need not trace those relations, by which a con- nexion so extensive was held, and an influence so pow- erful was exerted. They are familiar to your minds. They have recently been exhibited in an interesting and powerful manner. None who were present on the mournful day consecrated to his memory, will soon forget either their nature or importance.* It was, preeminently, his connexion with that grand enterprise .of Christian benevolence, which is seeking to extend the knowledge of salvation to the ends of the earth, and which, in a most important sphere he conducted with so much energy and success, that gave him a strong hold of the affections and confidence of the Christian community. It was this, which awa- kened a general sympathy and concern, when his ex- hausted frame began to sink under the pressure of *It may be proper to state, that the present discourse was delivered in the Tabernacle church, on Sabbalh, July 15 — a few days after another Ser- mon had been preached by the Rev. Dr Woods, in commemoration of the public character and services of Dr. Wobcesteb. 17 accumulated duties, and it became necessary for him to leave his family* his people, and his home, for the perils of the sea and the wilderness. A thousand ten- der wishes followed him ; a thousand prayers went up to Heaven for him. But he had finished his course, and the time of his departure was at hand. Seldom has the public grief been more general, on the death of one -man — never more sincere or more deep, of) the part of those who love Zion> and prefer her prosperity above their chief joy. But I forbear to dwell upon the more public char- acter and services of your lamented Pastor, — not on- ly, because it has already been done with great effect, but because there is another, and to you, I am per- suaded, not less endearing character, in which he de- serves to be remembered ; — and that is, the relation which he held to you, as your Pastor, and to his be- reaved relatives, as a Husband, Father, and Friend. Before, however, describing his character minute- ly, in either of these relations, it will be useful and proper, to take a connected view of the principal in- cidents in his life, from its commencement to its close. Your Pastor was born at Hollis, in New Hamp- shire, Nov. 1, 1771. His father, who was a respecta- ble fanner of that town, was descended from the Rev. Thomas Worcester, who was the first minister of Salis- bury, in this State, and who settled there in the year 1(>3<).* When only twenty months old, he had the misfor- tune to lose his mother, who is said to have been highly distinguished for her piety and good sense. During his infancy, he suffered much from sickness, ♦See Note At. 3 18 and in one instance, was brought so low that his life was entirely despaired of. But that God who had destined him to important services in the church, watched over his cradle, and at length raised him to health and strength. While a youth, his time was occupied at home, without any remarkable occurrences, except that he frequently discovered in his conduct, the same cool- ness and deliberation of plan, the same patience of application, which, in. after life, so strongly marked his character.* As he grew up, he became devoted to active and laborious pursuits upon his father's farm. Being blest with a strong constitution, and having naturally a disposition to excel in every thing he undertook, his services became so important, that his father resolved to make him his chief dependance in the management of his domestic concerns; and consequently, devoted him to this mode of life, as his future employment. At the age of sixteen, during one of those seasons of the gracious outpourings of the Holy Spirit, which have so often visited New England, and conferred orr her churches the richest and most durable blessings, his mind became impressed with the importance of his spiritual and eternal interests. After a period of six months of anxious enquiry, he began to cherish a trembling hope that he had "passed from death unto hfe." His feelings during this time, had nothing in them peculiarly extraordinary. "It was," to use the language of an elder brother,! whose mind was im~ * See Note B. fcTheRev. Thomas Worcester, settled at Salisbury, N. H, 19 pressed at the same time, "apparently by a still smafi voice that he was led to see, that he was entirely without the love of God in him, and to feel his de pen- dance on the free grace of God for regeneration, par- don and eternal life, and brought to receive Christ Jesus the Lord, as his chosen and beloved Saviour." He still, however, had many doubts ; and his fear of being deceived was such, that he could not prevail on himself to make a public profession of religion till n him, there is no reason to conclude he would have consented to accept it, without some new ar- rangement, by which his parochial burdens should have been lightened. But he entered upon that office, and retained it, even after its duties had become so great, as necessa- rily to turn his attention in a degree, from the more immediate engagements of the pastoral office, in the same spirit, and for the same reasons, which had al- ways influenced his conduct He believed that God had called him to take a part, in the great and grow- ing work of evangelizing the Heathen. Like every good man, and conscientious christian, he felt it hi$ duty to do something. What part he should take, or what proportion of personal services he should ren- der, he did not undertake to determine. He left that "with Providence. When, therefore, it pleased God to smile so benignantly on his labours, and those of his associates in the blessed cause, and to throw sa large a proportion of its cares upon him, he could not tear himself from them, without doing violence to his conscience, and disregarding the plainest dictates of Providence. At the meeting of the Board in 1817, it w r as dis- tinctly stated by him, that the double duties which his- situation imposed, were too arduous for him any longer to discharge, without assistance ; and that, unless some new r arrangement could be made, he should find it ne- cessary to resign the Secretary's office. Such, how- ever, were the embarrassments with which the sub- ject was attended, that it was not till near the 27 close of the ensuing year, that he saw any prospect of a diminution of his labours. At that period, the Prudential Commitee made application to the church for the relinquishment of three fourths of his time* to be devoted to the Missionary cause. The result I need not relate. You all remember the painful, as well as tender scenes, to which it led. It is known also, that it was the occasion of the settlement o( your present minister, as an associate with Dr. Wor- cester, in the pastoral office. Thus was completed an arrangement, to which our lamented friend had lon^ looked with strong desire. It had ever appeared to him, that he could accomplish more good, even lor the Missionary cause, by retain- ing his pastoral connexion, than by relinquishing it altogether ; — while it would give him many facilities for benefitting his own church and people, and the churches around him, which he could not otherwise -enjoy. Experience fully proved the correctness of his judgment. His labours in the cause of missions were never more successful. His people enjoyed his soci- ety, in nearly the same degree as before. Indeed, it is questionable, whether his usefulness among them was ever more sensibly felt, than after this arrange- ment was made. At the same time, the good influence which he had long exerted in the religious community, was not in the least impaired, but rather increased. Being in some respects, more free from care, he could, with more ease than before, devote a portion of his time to those public interests, which were continu- al lv pressing upon his attention. 28 Happy should we have been, if a connexion so im- portant to us, and to others, could have been longer preserved. But Infinite Wisdom saw fit to bring it t© a speedy termination. For nearly three years before the late measures were taken by Dr. Worcester, for the recovery of his health, his constitution had begua to discover symptoms of decay. To use his own ex- pression, — it had lost its former elasticity, and could not recover itself so easily from the effects of severe labour, or even occasional fatigue. His powers of di- gestion were impaired ; a peculiar lethargy gradually possessed his frame ; and the tone, both of his muscu- lar and nervous systems^ was destroyed. In the hope of finding some relief from these complaints, he was induced, in the months of October and November last, to take an extensive journey. From this, how- ever, he returned but little recovered ; and soon found it necessary to resort to measures more deci- sive. He took counsel of his medical friends, and determined on spending the approaching winter in a southern climate. V r arious hindrances prevented his taking so early a departure as he wished. On the last sabbath in De- cember, he gave you his parting discourse, from an appropriate passage in the 39th Psalm. "For I am but a stranger with thee, a sojourner as all my fathers were." Many of you then believed, it was the last sermon he would ever deliver to you, and felt all the tenderness of grief, which could have been produced by the certainty, that you should see his face no more. On tlie 5th of January following, he sailed froorx 29 Boston, for New Orleans ; intending on his return, to pass through the interior of the country, and visit the missionary stations of Elliot and Brainerd — places, for the good of which he had long toiled and prayed, and which, if Providence saw fit to permit, he ear- nestly desired to see. His passage to New Orleans was one of the most boisterous and dangerous that is ever experienced. To his poor, shattered constitution, it had well nigh proved fatal. But God was with him. Seldom has any one had more spiritual enjoyment, than your be- loved Pastor, during his greatest dangers and suffer- ings. In a letter written at the time, speaking of the probable benefit which he should yet derive from the voyage, he says, "However this may be, or what- ever the event, I have yet seen only goodness and mercy in all I have experienced. In the most dis- tressful hours, my pillow was wet with tears — of gratitude, I trust, in part ; and I found a sweetness not soon to be forgotten, in committing myself and dear family, wife and children, severally and to- gether — to Him, in whose hand is the sea and the dry land — a heart-filling satisfaction in his gracious and everlasting covenant." On the 3d of February, he arrived at New Orle- ans, extremely debilitated. The weather was unu- sually inclement, and gave him but few opportunities to recruit his strength. He had cherished the hope, that he might be able to impart some instruction to the destitute thousands in this city, but he now found himself unable to deliver a single sermon. The most he could do, as he expresses it, was to receive all who 30 •came unto him, and speak to them cf the things which concern the Lord Jesus Christ. Of this privilege, many of the serious and pious inhabitants availed themselves, and were edified bj his conversation and prayers. But it was most of all delightful to see, with what intenseness of interest, his thoughts still run upon that f^ause, which for years past, had been so dear to his heart. Though sinking under a load of bodily infir- mities, and too weak to open his mouth in public, he resolved once more to be heard in behalf of that cause. From the place of his confinement, he accor- dingly sent forth, through the press, an appeal to the people of New Orleans, and of the State of Louis- iana, which, for elevation of thought, tenderness of feeling, and elegance cf language, is scarcely inferior to any thing of the kind, which he ever wrote. It was not without effect. Some of its fruits, he was permitted to carry with him to the Heathen, and to dispense among them with his own hand. On the 10th of March, he took leave of the nume- rous friends whose acquaintance he had made in New- Orleans, and set his face towards the missionary sta- tions in the wilderness. After being detained on the way by a severe attack of sickness, and suffering much from fatigue, he arrived in the central part of the Choctaw tribe, at a place sixty miles distant from Elliot, on the 10th of April. Here, while he tarried for the arrival of several missionaries, who were expected to accompany him to Elliot, he was seized with another turn of severe illness, which con- fined him for two weeks, and obliged him at length 3i to abandon the hope of ever se-eing that place y strongly endeared as it was to his heart The ten- der and paternal letter which, on coming to this con- clusion, he addressed to the missionaries at Elliot, you have already heard. Like every thing else, which he wrote during his last illness, it indicated a mind last ripening for the Heavenly world. Sub- mission, the most cheerful and entire, to all the al- lotments of Providence, whatever they might be, seems never to have left him for a moment. It was especially so in the present instance. In a letter to a friend, he says, "Amid various scenes and changes, in- firmities and fatigues, I had been cheered with the anticipations of refreshment at that consecrated spot: but our Hcavenlv Father saw it best that the fondlv cherished hope should not be realized. I have not seen Elliot. I shall never see that place. I bowed to what appeared to me plainly to be the Divine will.' 5 Though disappointed in not seeing Elliot, Dr. Worcester had the satisfaction of meeting all the missionaries but one of the Choctaw, and several of the Cherokee missions at May hew, a station recently formed in the Eastern part of the Choctaw territory, and not much out of his way to Brainerd. Some idea of his feelings, upon first arriving at a missionary station, may be learned from the follow- ing extract of a letter, written on the day of his de- parture from May hew. After describing his journey to that place, which was performed with great fa- tigue, he says, *• But at day break the next morning I awoke uncommonly refreshed. One of the first bounds that struck my ear, was that of the beds oi the cattle, horses and cows. To me it was hohuess to the Lord. The ground was holy — the Lord's plantation — all appertaining w T as holy — sacred to his cause. It was a light in a dark place — a fountain in the desart — a fruitful field in the wilderness — the opening of a glorious millenial scene. — Before sunrise I forgot all the fatigues and pains of the way." It was certainly no ordinary favour in Providence that so many missionaries, from different and distant stations, should be brought together at the only time, w T hen the strength of Dr. Worcester was such, that he could give them the instructions and counsels which they desired. In addition to his other labours at May hew, he was enabled to assist in organizing a church, and to deliver one or two appropriate dis- courses. But they were his last labours for the good of the Heathen. The few weeks of his life that re- mained, were spent under circumstances which ren- dered it impossible for him to say or to do much, ex- cept what his own wants required. As he was about to leave May hew, on a journey •f three hundred and fifty miles for Brainerd, he ad- dressed a short letter to his family, which concludes with the following words. "This place, one of the most delightful, certainly, my eyes ever saw, I leave this morning with my face towards Brainerd — to- wards Salem — and O may I add, towards Heaven ! To God, my hope, would I commit my way, my life, my family, my all." It was the last message which his family ever received from his own hand. The following eighteen days were spent in perfor- ming his journey to Brainerd. On arriving at this 33 place, he was so feeble as to require the aid of two men, to assist him into the house. But his soul, says one of the missionaries, was in a state of high health and prosperity. He was not only willing to end his here, if it should be the Divine pleasure, but he remarked, "I had rather leave my poor remains at Brainerd than at any other place/' The tender and solemn scenes which followed, you have already heard described. In the bosom of a missionary family, whose kind and faithful assiduities no ( arthly friends could surpass ; surrounded by those "dear children'' of the forest, whose voices, taught, in part by his instrumentality, to celebrate the praises ot God, now cheered his departing soul, with their songs of gratitude ; above all, with a hope in God, which ed him of eternal happiness in Heaven, he looked forward to his approaching end, with emotions of joy. Nor was the period lcng deferred. On the morning of Tl . the seventh of June, "at ten minutes be- fore seven, a most delightful and heavenly smile pass- ed over his countenance — his eyes were immediately let — he breathed until one minute before seven, and then ceased, without the least struggle or appearance •f pain." -Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of lints.'* — "Yea, saith the Spirit, that they may rest from their labours ; and their works do follow them." On the ninth of June, in the presence of the mis- sion family and school, and a large number of the natives, some of whom had come from a great distance to unite in the solemnity, the mortal remains of oux 5 34 'beloved friend and Pastor were committed to the grave, — there to sleep, till that great day when the voice of the archangel and the trump of God shall awake them to an immortal and glorious life. Thus, my brethren, have 1 endeavoured to give you a connected view of some of the leading incidents in the life and death of your lamented Pastor. It re- mains to exhibit the manner in which he performed the duties of the pastoral office, and the more private relations of life. And here I would remark, that as every man's con- duct depends ultimately upon his intellectual and moral character ; so, in forming an opinion of the manner in which your Pastor performed the duties of his various offices, it is necessary to understand what were the leading features of his mind — and the predominant feelings of his heart. In regard to his intellectual character, it may be said of Dr. Worcester, that he possessed a mind of the first order. His perceptions were clear and dis- tinct. His judgment was remarkably good ; — form- ing its decisions with great deliberation, and upon the most substantial grounds. But that, w 7 hich most of all, distinguished his intellectual faculties, was the strength and comprehensiveness of his reasoning pow- ers. He had a prodigious grasp a/mind, by which he seemed to lay hold of every subject, and to look through it, in its most extensive bearings. If it in- volved the consideration of many particulars of dif- ferent and opposite kinds, his mind turned with mi- nute attention to each, and suspended its judgment until it had fully investigated them all. He did not* 35 perhaps, think with so much rapidity as some other men. But, though his mind was slower in its progress, it was surer in its results. Having once gone over a subject, he seldom had occasion to retrace his steps, or to alter his conclusions. When he reflected upon the various and complica- ted interests of a community, this faculty enabled him to foresee results, and to estimate their influence, with a degree of sagacity which few men could rival. Or, if his opinions respected the characters and conduct of men, as they were likely to be affected by particu- lar circumstances, his knowledge of human nature gave to his conclusions, equal discernment. It was this trait, which, more than any other, qualified him to take a leading part in the management of public concerns. If he became a principal director in the Missionary cause, its operations were distinguished by a maturity of design, and a comprehensiveness of plan, which adapted them to every exigency, and gave them the visible impress of his own mind. If he had occasion to lend his assistance in a case of ecclesiastical difficulty or dissention, he did it with such wisdom and ability as seldom failed to secure a favourable issue. In short, whatever w T as the object of his attention, if its concerns required prudent man- agement and extensive foresight, it was sure to de- rive the most important benefit from his counsels. But we should form an inadequate idea of Dr. Worcester's mind, if we were to stop here. It was remarkably complete in all its faculties. His imagin- ation, though not the most lively, was highly inven- tive and well regulated. A correct and an improved 3& taste, qualified him to perceive and enjoy whatever was beautiful and harmonious in nature or art. His memory was strong, and more than commonly reten- tive. He had treasured up a vast variety of facts and sentiments in the course of his reading and expe- rience, and was supplied with them by a ready recol- lection, at any moment when he had occasion to use them. Nor was it in respect to the exercise of single fac- ulties, only, that his mind was distinguished : all its powers moved in concert with each other. He had, what has been justly termed, a well balanced mind ; that is to say, its faculties were properly proportioned one to another, and performed their respective offices in subserviency to a common end. His fancy never carried away his judgment, nor did his judgment, on any proper occasion, repress the indulgence of his fancy. Each faculty of the mind preserved its pro- per place, and was brought into exercise when, and where, it was most necessary. This gave to the op- erations of his mind, a steadiness of movement, a coolness and deliberation of view, which kept it from every thing wild and extravagant, and gave to his opinions, a character of consistency and uniformity. To this cause, also, it was owing, that he possessed so great a share of common sense, and was not gives to change, either in his views or his conduct. But that which gave to his mind its chief advantage, was the thorough discipline to which its faculties were subjected. He had a perfect control of his mind. When its powers were not impaired by disease, or too great exertion, he could call them into exercise 37 at any moment, and direct them to any object, as he pleased. Those who have had occasion to call upon him in the season of study, have been surprised to see with what facility, he could divert his mind from any subject in which he was engaged, however great or interesting it might be, and turn all his thoughts at ©nee, to a matter of mere private or parochial con- cern, with the same fixedness of attention as if it had been the only object of his contemplation for hours. This gave him many facilities in the discharge of his various and multiplied duties, without which it is im- possible to conceive, how he could ever have accom- plished what he did. Such, my brethren, were some of the principal traits which distinguished the mental powers of your late Pas- tor. His moral qualities were not less prominent. From the history of his life, as already given, it must be evident to every one, that Divine grace had done much to elevate and to sanctify his affections. His pie- ty was deep and uniform. As a Christian, he exhib- ited strong confidence in the moral character of God ; exalted views of his perfections and government ; a warm and steady attachment to the interests of his kingdom ; a cordial belief of his word ; and a deep sense of dependance on his grace. With a lively conviction of his own sinfulness and unworthiness, in the sight of God, he hoped for forgiveness, through the meritorious sufferings and death of Jesus Christ. The character of the Redeemer, as a Divine Person ; the all-sufficiency of his atonement, and the absolute necessity of relying upon that alone for sal- vation; were with him essential articles of faith* 38 They were doctrines, which, with others clearly im- plied in them, he not only defended with singular ability, but greatly loved. They formed the life and soul of his religious character. They were constant themes of his discourse, and the governing principles of his actions. His benevolence to men, shone with peculiar lus- tre. The many important services which he per- formed for the good of mankind, furnish a proof of this fact, which will be acknowledged with increasing gratitude, for ages to come. His private character, was marked by a conscien- tious regard to the duties of personal and family re- ligion. He was a man of prayer. In his own soul, there is reason to believe, he maintained a constant intercourse with Heaven ; and when he poured out his heart upon the domestic altar, it was with great tenderness and copiousness of expression, as well as" with peculiar unction of feeling. But that which struck the eye of a friend, as mor6 characteristic of the piety of Dr. Worcester than any thing else, was his habit of referring every thing to Providence. He believed that God, through the instrumentality of means, was moving, and speaking, in every event which came to pass. This he under- stood to be the end of his Providence, To this im- mense field of observation, therefore, his eye was coi> stantly turned, and from it he was ever deriving les- sons of divine instruction. It formed a large part of the business of his life, to study Providence. He con- ceived that so far as he could ascertain the course of 30 it, and perceive the results to which it was leading, his own judgment might proceed with safety. How admirably the character of his mind, and his habits of reflection, qualified him for this mode of in- vestigation, will be obvious to all. To his success- ful exertions in forming comprehensive views of Pro- vidence, it is doubtless to be ascribed, that his opin- ions of what was duty and expediency, were so often correct ; where most men would have found it diffi- cult, if not impossible, to come to any conclusion what- ever. By searching with great care and diligence, for the leadings of Providence, his opinions became rather his perception of what appeared to be the will of God, than any original or unassisted speculations of his own; and of course, they were right* Having said thus much of the intellectual and moral character of Dr. Worcester, it will require but little time to form an idea of the manner in which he dis- charged the duties of his office, as a Minister of this church and congregation. For whatever he was in these respects, it is plain he must have been in all the transactions of public and private life. If your Pastor had talents, which raised him to eminence in the wider field of general usefulness ; the same talents wore employed for the benefit of those who moved •How clearly, and at the same time how beautifully, Dr. Worcester let-; himself illustrated this part of lu« character, in his late communications to Mr. Fa- arts, his endeared and honoured associate in the Missionary oause, it is unnecessary to state. Let every man, and every minister io the land, who would act with any portion of his wisdom under the various emergencies of life, read them. It will be seen, not only what Dr. Wor- OE8 tkr was, but what all must be who tread in his steps, and acquire his skill in judgment. It is a trait, without which the cause of missions can» not be conducted with success a single year. The communications refer- red to, mav be found in the numbers of the Missionary Herald for May aui June, 1821. 40 in the circle of his pastoral and domestic relations* The objects of his attention were not, indeed, so nu- merous, nor in their connexion with the world so im- portant ; but so far as occasion called for the exer- cise of his powers, the same resources were brought into operation in the one sphere as in another. The remarks which I have to make upon this part of the character of Dr. Worcester, relate to him as a Preacher, and as a Pastor. As a Preacher, Dr. Worcester was distinguished more by the excellence of his compositions, than the manner of his delivery. There was a degree of de- liberation in his speech, and an appearance of effort in the expression of his countenance, which made him less interesting to a popular assembly, than many other men. But the solid merit of his discourses amplv atoned for every defect of this kind. His sermons were eminently calculated to instruct. The subjects were well chosen and adapted to every variety of occasion. In his arrangement he was clear and simple. His illustrations were generally copious ; but always natural and appropriate. His language was distinguished for its perspicuity and smoothness. Often it was elegant. If defective in any respect, it was in an occasional want of brevity and precision. He was "mighty in the scriptures" He possessed a happy talent for introducing quotations from them into all his discourses, which gave them a peculiar richness of language as well as of sentiment. In the early part of his ministry, he applied himself with great diligence to the study of the sacred oracles, and frequently gave his people expeditions of its most 41 difficult and interesting passages.* It should be added, he was a practical preacher. His sermons were not addressed to the understanding alone. Whatever the subject might be, he always found opportunity to deduce a variety of important infer- ences, which he applied directly to the consciences and hearts of his hearers — at the same time, he expressed himself in a manner so affectionate and solemn, that the most indifferent were often made to feel. In his character as a Pastor, one of the most con- spicuous traits which Dr. Worcester discovered, was his dcvotcdncss to his work. He gave himself whol- ly to the ministry; and allowed no private or secular end to divert his attention from what he considered, its appropriate duties. With a mind qualifying him for any station, and possessed of resources which he might easily have rendered subservient to his pecuni- ary interests, he was satisfied to spend his days in la- borious exertions for the good of others, with no other compensation than what was merely necessary for his present support.! If we enquire the cause of this devotedness, w T e shall find it to have originated in an ardent love for the duties of the sacred office. In the discharge of these, he found ample scope for all the powers of his mind, and the best feelings of his heart. From these, therefore, no temptation could allure him. He ap- plied himself with unwearied effort to the perform- ance of them, and coveted no other profession or pursuit, on earth. *Note D. *Ncte E. 6 42 He was an affectionate Pastor. He felt a tender interest for all his flock. If they were blessed with prosperity, he rejoiced ; if they mourned under ad- versity, he was always ready to impart consolation. Perhaps no man could express a livelier sympathy in the trials of those who were endeared to him, than your beloved Pastor. For this, it is true, he was in some measure fitted, by the repeated afflictions which he suffered in his own family;* but he possessed a natu- ral sensibility, which easily entered into the feelings of others. With what tenderness of manner, and ap- propriateness of language, he could adapt his conver- sation to the circumstances of those who were in dis- tress, you, my hearers, who heard him in seasons of sorrow, can better remember, than I describe. In his pastoral visits, he was frequent, and to a high degree faithful. He regarded them as constituting an important part of ministerial duty ; and in the ear- ly period of his ministry, before his time became so much occupied with public engagements, he devoted himself to them with uncommon assiduity. Several hundred visits of this kind has he made in a single year ; — with how much benefit to those who enjoyed them, it is unnecessary for me to say. To the sick and afflicted, he was peculiarly at* fentive. He considered them as possessing the first claim upon his services, and allowed them to make large demands upon his time. Nor were the instruc- tions, which he gave upon these occasions, lost. Few ministers have been so highly favoured in this re- spect, as himself. Some of the most precious fruits *N^te F, 43 of his ministry were derived from his visits to the sick and afflicted. His faithiiil warnings were heard; and in a number of instances, became the means of permanent good. Dr. Worcester earnestly desired the spiritual welfare of his church. He believed the church to be an institution of Christ — possessing a character wholly distinct from the world ; invested with spe- cial privileges; and designed for the most impor- tant ends. He considered it as the "light of the world," — the "salt of the earth" — "the pillar and ground of the truth." Every encroachment up- on its rights — every attempt to destroy its separate character and merge it into the world, whether made by political or religious men; he regarded, not only as dangerous to morality, but an act of open hostility to the Gospel itself. It was his fervent wish, that the members of his church might live, in all respects, conformably to the character and privileges, of an Institution of Christ. — To this end a large proportion of his labours was direct- ed. In public, and in private ; at the sacramental table, and in the social conference ; he took occasion to im- press on those who " named the name of Christ," the sacredness of their profession, and the nature and magnitude of the duties which it imposed. Ye yourselves, brethren, " know how he exhorted, and comforted, and charged every one of you, as a Fathr er doth his children; that ye would walk worthy of God, who hath called you unto his kingdom and glory." He was strongly attached to the members of his 44 church. Of this, the following declaration contained in one of his last letters, affords sufficient proof. He had been informed that the week after his depar- ture, the church held a day of fasting and prayer up- on his account. In a letter to a friend, he says, "By the account you have so feelingly given me, of the meeting of the church for prayer on my behalf, on the Friday after my embarkation, my heart is melt- ed. God will not forget that day of fasting and prayer, nor the fervent supplications, nor the tears of tenderness, nor the tremblings and fluctuations of hope, nor the anticipations of the meeting in our Father's house, not made with hands. I beg you to say to that church for yourself, and to repeat for me, with the tenderest emphasis of love and gratitude, — "Peace be within thy walls, and prosperity within thy palaces. For my brethren and companions' sakes, I will now say, Peace be within thee. Be- cause of the house of the Lord our God, I will seek thy good." Dr. Worcester devoted much of his time to study. He believed that no man, however great his talents might be, could discharge the duties of the Pastoral office in an able and faithful manner, without fre- quent meditation, and a laborious application to stu- dy. From the commencement of his ministry, his habits were, therefore, those of a diligent and thoiv ough student. Upon the time, which he held con- secrated to this object, he allowed neither pastoral visits, nor any other parochial engagement, to en- croach. Your Pastor was also distinguished, for the extra- 45 ordinary wisdom and prudence, with which he per- formed the duties of his office. His rule was, "To do things at the proper time, and in the right way." To this maxim, his own conduct was strictly conform- ed. He watched the course of Providence, and waited the arrival of an auspicious moment before he ven- tured to make an effort. He never committed him- self. In cases of great trial and difficulty, his pro- ceedings were marked with a degree of caution and deliberation, which almost always gave them success. So strikingly was this the fact, that if he proposed to carry any measure, it was common for his friends to predict the accomplishment of it, notwithstanding the opposition which it might have to encounter. Nor were his wisdom and prudence, the only qual- ities which gave him distinguished advantages, at such a time. He possessed great decision of character. In forming his opinions, he was independent; — in maintaining them, firm. When once he had taken his ground — he held it, unawed by any circumstances which might be arrayed against him. Dr. Worcester was a laborious Pastor. Notwith- standing all his exertions for the public good, few ministers have done so much for their people, in so short a time. He had a habit of diligence, and of close application to business, which Avould have ena- bled one of far less mental resources, to accomplish much in a course of years. But when we reflect, that these habits were, in him, associated with the first talents, and were under the control of a strong attachment to the interests of the Redeemer's king- dom, — how must the sum of his useful labours have been increased. 46 It would be easy to dwell upon the important ser- vices which he performed, in the course of his minis- try, for the good of this church and people. Some of these have already been mentioned. His services in the pulpit deserve particular notice. During the pe- riod of his pastoral labours, he wrote more than a thousand sermons, besides the occasional discourses which he published. These you have heard. The solid instruction, the faithful admonitions, the kind entreaties, which they contain, were addressed to you. Where will you go to find another congregation, who have heard a thousand other sermons, such as these, in the same time ? It would be injustice to pass over in this review, the exertions which your Pastor made for the improvement of our Christian Psalmody. On this subject, his efforts were peculiarly happy. They have proved so, not only to us, but to others who have availed themselves of his labours, in the worship of the sanctuary. The single fact, that his compilation contains a key to the expression which should be given to the language of sacred music, according to the sen- timent expressed, is enough to make it invaluable ; and promises, at no distant period, greatly to improve the mode of singing in our churches. Another remark to be made respecting Dr. Wor- cester, is, that he was a successful Pastor. From the description of his character which has been given, it is evident that he possessed, in an eminent degree, those qualifications which give strength and stability to a society. Accordingly, his own congregation nev- er flourished more than during the period of his min- istry. When he began his labours, as you well 47 know, the society was weakened by divisions, and f en- quired the wisdom and energy of an able and devoted Pastor, to recruit its strength. These he combined in so remarkable a manner, that the highest hopes and expectations of his people were realized. But this is not the success, to which I principally allude. His labours were blessed to the souls of his people. He had the happiness to witness several revivals of religion, in which he greatly rejoiced — and in the fruits of which, it is to be hoped, he will re- joice, forever. During the eighteen years of his res- idence among you, two hundred and fifty-five persons were added to the church — most of whom, as we trust, were the seals of his ministry.* It is proper to add in this connexion, that Dr. Wor- cester cherished a livelv concern for the welfare of other churches. He believed that the churches of Christ were united by a common bond ; that if one member suffered, all the members suffered with it; and that they were bound to afford mutual aid. It was impossible that one so well qualified to give as- sistance as himself, should not have been often called upon. In the course of his ministry he attended more than eighty ecclesiastical councils, and was invited to many more. The services which he rendered upon some of these occasions, were of the highest moment, and will long be held in the most grateful remem- brance, i It was his concern for the welfare of other* churches, which called forth those able vindications of the truth, which have given such just celebrity to Note G. 4tf his name. To some, it might seem, from the fre- quency with which your Pastor appeared upon these occasions, that he was a lover of controversy. But no man was more sincerely desirous of peace. Of this his own declaration, upon an occasion of this nature, furnishes evidence which no candid mind will reject. " Be my character," says he, " in other respects, what it may, those who have known me best, in the different scenes of my life, have never suspected me, I believe, of possessing a disposition for contention."* No, my brethren, it was his love of peace, and his strong desire to check the influence of those errors which were calculated to subvert the peace and purity of the churches, that called him before the public in the character of a controversialist. It was natural enough for those who felt unfriend- ly to the influence of Dr. Worcester, to ascribe the range which he took in public affairs, to motives of wordly ambition. But if those who made the insin- uation had known him as well as his more intimate ac- quaintance, they would have perceived that their re- marks were widely different from the truth. That he desired to exert an extensive influence in the church, and in the world, will not be questioned ; for every good man who has the same endowments, and cher- ishes a proper sense of his accountability to his Di- vine Master, cannot but desire it. It was, however, an influence for Christ which he wished to exert, and which, if we have not wholly mistaken his character, he did exert. * u Facts and Documents, Exhibiting a Summary View of Ecclesiastical Affairs," in Fitchburgh — p. 116. 49 You will doubtless expect, that I should say some- thing of the character of Dr. Worcester, as an Asso- ciate Pastor. On this subject, I scarcely dare to trust my own feelings. I may, however, be permitted to say, that I shall ever regard the period of my con- nexion with him, as one of the happiest portions of my life. And whatever may have been the history of other connexions of a similar nature, with heart- felt gratitude to God, I desire to record of this — that no incident ever occurred, which was known to inter- rupt its peace, or to mar its enjoyment, for a mo- ment. I weep while I think its endearments are at an end ; and that I shall sit at his feet, and receive his paternal instructions, no more. I have only to add a few remarks respecting the character of Dr. Worcester, in the private relations of life. He was strongly endeared to his friends. To him they often came for counsel, and were never de- nied his most ailectionate aid. As a Husband and Father, his memory will never cease to be cherished with the sincerest gratitude and delight. To the different members of his family he was very tender- ly attached. He carried them in his thoughts where- ever he went — and offered for them his most fervent prayers. lie was eminently htted for the intimacy of private friendship. Although he was naturally reserved, and to a stranger sometimes appeared distant, no man could unbosom himself with greater freedom to a friend. In moments of relaxation he was cheerful ; often sprightly. His pleasantry, however, was never 7 bo allowed in the least degree to detract from the dig- nity with which his whole deportment was marked. Such, my brethren, was the Pastor, whose labours for eighteen years, it was your privilege to enjoy. To this church and congregation, in all its branches, his death is a loss which no language will express. To those of you, who owe your hopes of eternal life to his instrumentality, it has left a void, which no other Pas- tor can fill. " For though ye have ten thousand in- structors in Christ, yet have ye not many fathers." To the cause of truth and benevolence, it is a loss, which there is no occasion that I should describe. But these are relations which your Pastor held to the world. What, then^ must be the loss, which his death has occasioned to his afflicted and dependant family. Yours, my dear Madam, Is the sorrow which the stranger intermeddle til not with. The ehord which has been severed in your heart, is the tenderest, which nature feels. We doubt not, when you think that it has made you a widow, and your beloved children orphans ; you are ready to sink under the load of your grief. But let it not be forgotten, the cup which your Heavenly Father has given you, is not entirely filled with sorrow. This church and congregation weep with you, and continu- ally bear you on their hearts. Thousands in the Christian community remember your departed friend, and will not forget you. But this is not all. The promises which are made to the Widow and the Fatherless, are yours. God, my dear madam, the God of your Husband, will bless you with his presence 51 and grace. He will not leave you comfortless. He will come unto you, and no good thing will he with- hold from you or your children. What though you were not permitted to witness the closing scene of your Husband's life. You can scarcely feel a regret, when you reflect, how, and where, he died. From the place endeared to him by many prayers, and hopes, and labours, his spirit took its flight His dust sleeps upon Immanuel's ground; and when the Heavens and the Earth shall be no more, it will rise again, amid the fruits of his toils, and the crowns of his rejoicing, which on that day, God will give him from among the Heathen. Think, of that "delightful and heavenly smile," which passed over his countenance as his eye opened upon the glory of the upper world — and can you wish him back again? No, my friend, with humble faith and hope, you will wait all the days of your appointed time, until your change come. Then may you ascend and dwell where, we doubt not, he is; — and where, having turned many to righteousness, he is henceforth TO SHINE, AS THE BRIGHTNESS OF THE FIRMANENT, AND A3 THE STARS FOREVER AND EVER. AMEN, AIKKEITMZ <$** It is due to those who heard the foregoing Sermon, to say, that in preparing it for publication, it has undergone considerable additions and amendments. It was at first composed in two parts, for the purpose of accommoda- ting it to both services of the day on which it was de- livered. There being no occasion for such a division in the publication of the discourse, the narrative is continu- ed ; and it is printed as a whole. It having been impossi- ble to collect and arrange, in time for the delivery of the Sermon, all the facts which it was important to embrace, even in a brief view of Dr. Worcester's life and charac- ter, the writer stated, on being asked a copy for the press, that he must be allowed to make such additions and corrections as he should judge necessary. In com- pliance with this understanding, he has been at consid- erable pains to collect such facts as he had not before re- ceived, and has introduced them into their proper place. The character of Dr. Worcester, as a Preacher and a Pastor, has been drawn with more particularity, and the prominent features of his Intellectual and Moral char- acter, pointed out with more precision. These constitute the principal amendments. To make room for them, a few passages have been left out, and some others con- densed, which were supposed to be of less importance. The Sermon, it is hoped, will on all these accounts, give more satisfaction to those for whom it was originally intended — and be more worthy the notice of others, who revere the memory of Dr. Worcester. For the purpose of making the historical and descrip- tive part of the Sermon more complete, the following- Notes arc subjoined. Note A. The only notices which the writer has been able to find of this ancient minister of New England, are the following. 1. In vol. X. p. 26, of the Massachusetts His- torical Collections, his name and place of residence are merely mentioned. 2. In Dr. Mathers Magnalia — vol. 1. p. 215, Hartford edition — he is enrolled, under the name of "William Worcester," among those who "were in the actual exercise of their ministry when they left 54 England, and were the instruments of bringing the Gos* pel into this wilderness, and of settling churches here, according to the order of the Gospel." 3. But the princi- pal notice is contained in an old book, which fell acci- dentally into the writer's hands, entitled — "America Painted to the Life." "A true history of the original un- dertakings of the advancement of Plantations in those parts, &c. Written by Sir Ferdinando Georges, Knight, and Governour of the Fort of Plymouth in Devonshire ; one of the first and chiefest promoters of those planta- tions." This book was printed in 1658, and has a divi- sion, entitled, "Wonder-working Providence of Sion's Saviour in New England," in which the author professes to give a history of the various settlements which had been made in the country, from 1 628 to that time. la this division of his book, p. 135, there is a short chapter respecting the first settlement of Salisbury, from which the following is an extract — "This towne is full as fruit- ful in her land, chattel], and inhabitants, as her sister Hampton ; the people joyned in church relation or broth- erhood here, about the time the other did, and have de- sired and obtained the reverend and graciously godly M. Thomas Woster to be their pastor." This took plac« in 1639. It will be perceived that the writer has not on- ly given a different orthography of the name, Worces- ter, from Dr. Mather, but that he has prefixed a different christian name. The fact, however, that he composed his narrative almost half a century before Dr. Mather's Magnalia was published; and but 30 years after the first emigrations took place ; and was personally con- nected with the exertions which were then making to set- tle New-England — entitle his testimony to some credit. From this man, at the distance of the seventh genera- tion, if the writer has been correctly informed, Dr. Wor- cester was descended. His father, as has been stated in the narrative, had seven children by his first marriage, of whom he was the youngest. Their names are as fol- lows : — Noah, Jesse, Lydia, Sarah, Leonard, Thomas, and Samuel, Five are still living ; and three of them ministers, viz. — the Rev. Noah Worcester, D. D. settled at Brighton, Mass. and the well known conductor of the "Friend of Peace;" — the Rev. Leonard Worcester, set- tled at Peacham, in Vermont ; and the Rev. Thomas Worcester, settled at Salisbury, in New Hampshire, 55 Note B. It is said, that when a child, he frequently displayed the character which is here given of him. A friend re- marks, if he was amusing himself with toys, or any thing else which commonly occupies the attention of children, and could not immediately suit them to his taste, he would not hecome passionate and throw them away, as most children do, but sit down and patiently w r ork upon them until he made them please his mind. Note C. The following anecdote is derived from the most au- thentic source, and very strongly illustrates the degree in which Dr. Worcester possessed this happy talent. The following are the words in which the anecdote is communicated, by a gentleman M ho had it direct. "In his first essay at school -keeping, when very young, he had one scholar much older than himself, who had for many previous winters been his school-fellow. He had always been notorious for idleness and mischief, and of course, was scarcely yet able to read. On the first day, he af- fected to give some specimen of the contempt, his young master was to expect from him. Mr. Worcester kindly asked him to tarry after the rest were dismissed ; and, in an affectionate and solemn appeal to those better feel- ings which all possess in some degree, arrested his at- tention to the importance of retrieving his character, of recovering the lost respect of his associates, and improv- ing his present opportunity for instruction, which caused the tears to flow freely ; and as the result, he made as good proficiency, and was as subordinate through the season, as any one belonging to the school." Note D. Dr. Worcester composed many Discourses of this description, which were delivered in a connected series, and sometimes included all the important parts of entire Books of the Bible. He has left in manuscript, Eighty- Five Lectures upon Matthew ; a considerable number up- on Genesis ; and had begun a course upon the Acts of the Apostles. Those who heard them, speak of them as a- mong the most interesting and instructive of all his dis- courses. 56 Note E. The disinterestedness of Dr. Worcester, is calculated to endear his memory to all who set a value upon his services. But does it not impose the most sacred ob- ligation upon his friends, as well as the Christian pub- lic, to remember his needy and dependant family. It is probably known, that he has bequeathed his wife and children no other support than that which they are to de- rive from the gratitude of the community. For ten years he was engaged most laboriously in the service of the public. And if it becomes the duty of his people, to re- member his family on the ground that he was their Pas- tor — are not Christians extensively under some obliga- tions to remember them, on the ground that he was so long their servant? Let all who thank God for blessing the church with the labours of so great and good a man, bear in mind, when they offer their tribute of gratitude, that he has left an afflicted widow, with her six children, to look for support, only to the Providential kindness of Heaven. Note F. Dr. Worcester lost five of his children by death. Six are yet living ; — two sons and four daughters. The eldest is a son bearing his father's name, and now in col- lege — the youngest is an infant. Note G. Soon after Dr. Worcester's settlement in Salem, his people were blessed with a revival of religion, and 95 persons, as the fruits of it, were received into the church. Subsequently to that period, and previous to his death, there have been four other seasons of more than ordinary attention. g^pThe writer intended to have given in this appen- dix, a list of Dr. Worcester's occasional publications ; but was prevented for want of room. Exclusively of what he wrote in behalf of Religious and Charitable Societies, his various publications amount to more than Thirty. SERMON Delivered Dec. 13, 1821. AT THE ORDINATION OF THE REV. WILLIAM WARE, TO THE PASTORAL CHARGE OF THE FIRST CONGREGATIONAL CHURCH IN NEW-YORK, By his Father, HENRY WARE, D. D. Hollis Professor of Divinity io the University in Cambridge, Mais TOGETHER WITH THE CHARGE AND RIGHT HAND OF FELLOWSHIP. PUBLISHED AT THE REQUEST OF THE CONGREGATION, BY THE LIBRARY AND TRACT SOCIETY, OF THE FIRST CONGRBGATIONAL CHURCH. 1821. SERMON. But we desire to know of thee, what thou thinkest ; for, as concerning this sect, we know that it is every where sp6- ken against. — Acts xxviii, 22. It appears from the transactions which took place on the arrival of Paul at Rome as a prisoner, that although a chris- tian church had been for several years established there, and in a flourishing condition, his countrymen, the Jews in that city, had but a very imperfect knowledge of the chris- tian doctrine, and of its claims upon their acceptance. For we find them in the text expressing a wish to avail them- selves of the occasion to become better acquainted with the merit of the controversy, which had been raised, as to the pretensions of Jesus of Nazareth to be the person, whom the nation had expected, under the title of their Messiah. The most violent opposition had been every where exci- ted on the subject. Previous expectations were disappoint- ed, and previous opinions contradicted, by the humble ap- pearance, the unaspiring views, and simple doctrine of Je- sus Christ. \tm The spirit manifested upon this occasion was far different from what had usually appeared in the men of that nation, wherever the Apostle had before visited. It was not mark- ed with that bigotry, which, having prejudged in the cause, refuses all further inquiry, — turns its back upon evidence, and rejects, unheard, the testimony that opposes its will, or contradicts its previous opinions, or disappoints its expecta- tions. It was a spirit of fair inquiry and honest solicitude to know the truth, such as he seems but once before to have met with among his countrymen. Mke the Bereans, who, when he preached to them Jesus the Christ, searched the scriptures, in order to satisfy themselves respecting the doctrine, which others rejected without inquiry ; these Ro- man Jews were willing patiently to listen to his explanation and defence of a doctrine, which they had often heard calum- niated, and which they knew was every where spoken against. This treatment, to which the gospel itself was exposed at its first promulgation, its pure and simple doctrine has often met with in succeeding times. But it has not always been the lot of those, who were engaged in endeavours to restore the doctrine first taught by the Saviour and his apostles to meet with those who were as ready as these Romans — subduing their own personal prejudices, and regardless of the popular clamour — to give the subject a patient and im- partial hearing. It was not long that the doctrine taught by the Founder of our faith remained in its primitive purity. Soon it became incorporated with the philosophy of the age— it mingled with the interests of the world, and was corrupted and debased by human passions. In a few instances it had assumed a character so different from what it was, as it first proceeded from the lips of Jesus and his apostles, that he who should then have first seen it, would scarcely have been able to recognize it as the same thing, that was presented to his view and demanded his faith in the institutions of the day. The corruptions, which thus early began to be introduced, were increased, as the religion passed into the deep intellect- ual and moral darkness of the ages that succeeded. And they were then perpetuated, ar.d the restoration of the pri- mitive faith was prevented, by the policy of withholding from christians the books of the New Testament, and permitting them to know their religion only as it was to be seen in the public institutions, and in the interpretations of the church. When the christian doctrine had remained for several cen- turies thus changed from its original character and form, and together with all that was valuable in literature and sci- ence, buried in the ignorance and barbarism that then cover- ed the earth ; it felt, at the same moment with human learning, the first influences of that dawning light which was gradually opening upon the world, and was destined to re- store a brighter day ; and the revival of learning, and the reformation of religion, simultaneous in their origin, went on with a similar progress, having, as they proceeded, similar opposition to encounter, and the same difficulties to surmount. The restorers of the pure doctrine of the gospel, like it? primitive teachers, were regarded as men, who, — in their at- tacks upon deep rooted prejudices and long cherished opin- ions, and in their attempts to overthrow ancient establish- ments, and thus, as was expressed by their adversaries, were turning the world upside down, — were neither to be encour- aged nor tolerated. And the same obstinate adherence to received opinions, which thus brought odium, and opposi- 6 tion, and persecution upon the reformers of religion, extend- ed also its arm of protection over the barbarous philosophy of the age, and made its power felt by every one, who, having the discernment to perceive, had also the courage to expose, the feebleness of its foundation, and to attempt its overthrow. It was not long after Huss and Jerome had sealed their tes- timony to the truth at the stake, and Luther and the other champions of the reformation had with difficulty escaped the same fate to suffer dangers and persecution in other forms, — that Galileo, for asserting what has since been proved to be the true system of the universe, was imprisoned by the inqui- sition, and required to recant the monstrous heresy; and the book in which he had ventured to proclaim it, was burnt by the public authority. Till this period popular ignorance, and prejudice, and a jealous and despotic monarchy were equally armed against all improvement, as well in philosophy as in religion. In succeeding times, with the advancement of knowledge, a more liberal and enlarged spirit, as respects every other subject of human inquiry, has been gradually introduced, till scarcely a vestige remains of the bigotry and the restraints of former ages 5 and opinions that have been maintained from immemorial time, are yielded up without a struggle. But this spirit has not extended itself in equal degree to the subject of religion. When we recollect for what a length of time, and by what successive steps the er- rours and corruptions, which at last so disfigured our religion, had been gathering around it — and had become linked ta- gether, and incorporated into a sj'stem, which had obtain- ed a firm hold in the popular faith, and was connected with alt the literature of the age, with all the interests of soci- ety, and with all the powers of the state ;— it were not to be expected that the whole work of reformation should be accomplished at once. It must be gradual and slow. It were sufficient glory to be the first to discover some of the most obvious errours, and to correct some of the most mani- fest abuses. It is no reproach to those who took the lead in that important work, that they stopped at the threshhold, and left it to be completed by their successors. To the most perfect and faithful organs of vision, the first dawn of returning light must present objects but imperfectly ; not with distinctness, nor in their just shape and dimensions. And if, besides, the organs themselves have become distem- pered by groping in the dark, or their power or exactness be impaired by disuse, it may serve still further to prolong the period of imperfect vision, and, even at mid-day; objects may not be fully restored to the colour and symmetry of nature and truth. But not only was much left for the la- bour and research of those who were to follow for a long time. The same violence of opposition was also to be en- countered by every one, who should attempt another step in the progress so happily begun, which had been experienc- ed in the first efforts of the reformation, and in the first pro- mulgation of the gospel. Both they, and the work they were attempting to accomplish, were every where spoken against. That efforts to correct errours in religious faith, and re- store it to its primitive purity, should meet with a different fate from those which were directed to the recovery of truth of any other kind, that had been lost in the ages of dark- ness, or had never before been discovered, ought not to surprise us. It is a natural consequence of the deeper in- terest it engages. In proportion to their estimate of its in- finite value, will be the attachment of mankind to the form in which they have been accustomed to view it, and their reluctance to give up any of the opinions which have been always associated with it in their minds. 8 Besides this, there is another circumstance, which early stopped the progress of the reformation, and has since re- tarded the restoration of our religion to its primitive state. The followers and successors of those great men, who first gave an impulse to the christian world, have satisfied them- selves with indolently adopting the peculiar opinions of the Reformers, instead of asserting the great principles of the Reformation. They have only changed one human master for another, instead of renouncing all authority, but that of our common master, the great head of the church. Thu0 receiving implicitly, and following servilely the theological opinions of Luther and Calvin, (most of which made no part of the reformation ; for they were opinions which they brought with them from from the church from which they separated, and held afterwards in common with that church) the great principles of the reformation, " the sufficiency of the scriptures, and the right of private judgment in their in- terpretation," were lost sight of. The consequence of thi*. has been, that the churches of the reformation, directing their attention to the maintenance and defence of the sys- tem of faith, which the reformers adopted, instead of imi- tating the spirit of free inquiry which distinguished them, and practically asserting the religious liberty, which they first dared to claim, and maintained, have done all that was in their power to prevent the reformation from proceeding a step further, than its first champions had carried it. There has accordingly not ceased to be too reasonable ground for the same complaint, which two centuries ago was drawn from the celebrated Robinson in his farewell to the pilgrims of Leyden — that the followers of Luther and of Calvin would proceed no further than their leaders had gone before them ; but still stuck, where they left them, in- stead of proceeding forward in imitation of their example. Nor is this all. — Those who have not seen their way clear lo go onward themselves, have not always been ready to p2r- mit their brethren to proceed. With singular inconsistency and in justice have those not unfrequcntly been charged with the doctrines of the reformation — who* with the spirit of the first reformers, and adopting the great princi- ple upon which they achieved the glorious event, were en- deavouring to carry on and perfect the work which they hi. And, with equally singular inconsistency, has this charge been urged upon them by those, who, claiming to be lusively the followers of the early reformers, are yet, in doing this, exhibiting the spirit and imitating the conduct of that church, which resisted and opposed the reformation. It reminds us of the severe rebuke of our Saviour, addressed to those, who in his time honoured the memory of the an- cient prophets, whom their fathers had persecuted : " Ye witnesses to yourselves, that ye are the children of those, who slew the prophets." I know that, in words, the great principles upon which the Reformation proceeded, — "the sufficiency of the scrip- tures and the right of private judgment," — are acknowledg- ed. But with what propriety, if he, who, in the conscien- tious exercise of the right, has been led to depart from the popular faith, is treated as an apostate from that cause, of his respect and attachment to which he is, in that very act, giving an example. In the present age. so distinguished for the light, which it has shed upon every other branch of human knowledge, the study of religion has not been neglected. The inter- pretation of the holy scriptures, in particular, has claimed a large share of the attention of christian students; and in no age probably since the first promulgation of the gospel, have the labours of the learned contributed so much, within a B 10 short time, to explain and illustrate the sacred books. New sources of knowledge having been opened in the course of three centuries, and the rules and principles of interpreta- tion being better understood, than in the infancy of modern learning, — it has happened of course, that views of christian doctrine are entertained by many, in some important points different from the faith that was held by the first reformers, and from the system of doctrines, which has generally pre- vailed in protestant churches since that time. The most important of these deviations have related to the personal unity of God, the nature and person of Jesus Christ, and several opinions which have an immediate relation to the character of the moral government of God. But these doctrines — by way of distinction, and with great propriety, denominated Unitarian — are not to be regarded as new discoveries. They were not first brought to light, nor first restored to light, by the labour and research of the present age. They have been held by some of the greatest luminaries in the christian world, ever since the period of the Reformation: And we believe them to have constituted the faith of the primitive christians, until those gross corruptions were incorporated with the gospel, from which it was the work of the reformation, and has been the gradual labour of succeeding times, to purify it* That examination of the sacred books, which has led to these results, has not been undertaken with levity, nor conductedwi th careless indifference; but with a serious- ness, piety, love of truth, and conscientious fidelity in search of it, which becomes the christian character ; and with an anxious wish to know, what is the true doctrine concerning himself, and the purposes of his mission, which the Saviour taught — It has been conducted, too, with the 11 same reverence for the sacred writings, and scrupulous care to acknowledge nothing for revealed truth, which they did not find there taught, whatever place it might hold in es- tablished systems, which marked the character of those, who first burst the chains of ecclesiastical tyranny, opened the eyes of the christian world to their rights and then duties, and assumed and vindicated the liberty, with which the Founder of their faith had made them free. Nor have they claimed any other liberty, or exercised any other rights, than are now universally acknowledged to belong to every christian. But if we have the right, in common with our christian brethren of every other form of faith, to inquire, and to interpret the scrip- tures for ourselves ; we have a right, also, in common with them, to hold and to profess the faith, to which fair in- quiry has led us; — to wise and great, as merciful as just ; that they may love his character, confide in his promises, and expect from him 32 the blessing of a kind parent, while they sustain the charac* ter of dutiful children. Unfold to their comprehension the mild and gracious provisions of the gospel. In language adapted to their years, instruct them in the conditions of salvation through a Saviour ; let them know that the require- ments of the gospel are suited to the capacity of every dis- ciple, that its assistance is proportionate to human weakness, that sincerity of aims and endeavours is the term of Divine acceptance, that the offender is permitted to renew himself by repentance, and that God is ready to bestow the rewards of Heaven on all who cultivate the dispositions requisite to enjoy them. On these methods of public instruction, implore the blessing of God ; and then you may expect that the people of your charge will be established in the faith, grounded and settled, and will not be moved away from the hope of the gospel ; that the sublime doctrines, and essential truths of revelation will dwell in their minds, not as a dead letter, but a quickening spirit, purifying their affections, and regulating their lives ; that in them Christianity will consist, not in the acuteness of metaphysical distinctions, not in the emotions of animal passion, but as a consistent principle of moral prac- tice, influencing them to fill up the measure of their dut} r . From a regard to the authority of God, and in view of the fu~ ture recompence of reward. As the presiding officer of this church, perform your own duty with due respect to the rights of its members, and think them not your enemies, when their judgment is opposed to yours concerning measures of common interest. Guard the institutions of the gospel from pollution, but deny not its privileges to any, who desire them on christian principles. 33 On proper examination approbate candidates to preach the glad tidings of salvation, and introduce pastors elect into the ministerial office. Never lay hands on the man, with whose moral, literary, and theological qualifications for usefulness place of labour, you are not satisfied : but make not your own religion* opinions the standard by which to mea- sure the fitness of other men for the ministry ; bur ily grant to all the right of private judgment, which you claim for yourself. While you diligently attend to the important branches of your public duty, remember that you are bound to i' and persuade by example. Maintain in every situation the appropriate character and manners of a clergyman. Be not ambitions to emulate the expense and splendour of wealthy and fashionable circles . the attempt will prove fruitless ; but it will be cons you as a mark of a weak and frivolous mind. Rise to nobler distinctions. Make it manifest that, like your divine n< your meat and drink is, to do the will of your Heavenly Fa aid to accomplish the work assigned you. Tl votion of affection aim and effort to the moral pur]" your office will be no hindrance to the proper e the rights of hospitality, no diminution of the satisfactory enjoyments of a social and friendly intercourse with the people of your charge. Your society will not require those faintly visits, or personal attentions which would essentially encroach on the time you ought to employ in your private studies ; but they will expect, that you identify yourself with their best interests, discover a disposition to rejoice with them in their prosperity, feel a sympathy with them in their afflictions and sorrows, and that in all the events of life you prove their kind friend and disinterested adviser. E 34 I hey will expect, thai }'ou appear as the wise counsellor, the faithful guide, and affectionate father of their children. By this attention and tenderness, you will endear yourself to this people, and permanently secure their confidence, respect and love. Permit me to remind you of the peculiar circumstances of your location. You, in common with all other young ministers, must at once enter on all the sublime and difficult branches of the pastoral office ; while the members of other learned professions gradually rise to their higher official du- ties as the experience of years gives them maturity of wis- dom and judgment. In addition to this, your situation will be attended with duties uncommonly arduous, and with diffi- culties peculiarly trying. The circumstances under which your society is formed will present them and you, in an un- usual manner, as objects of public attention. Every step in your course will be strictly watched, and ordinary excel- lence will not secure to you general approbation. Your station will bring to the test your talents and resolution, your christian temper and prudence, your firmness and con- stancy. Covet then earnestly the best gifts ; and let your profiting appear to all men. Strive to give the ministerial character high respectability, and to rise to distinguished professional eminence. Strive for ever increasing attain- ments in all ministerial qualifications, for yet rising official reputation, and for yet more extensive usefulness. God Almighty bless thee, my brother. May he give clearness to thine understanding, and fill thy soul with the love of divine truth. May he add length to thy life, and lustre to thine example. May he grant success to thy la- bour, and to thy fidelity the crown of glory. RIGHT HAND OF FELLOWSHIP. By HENRY WARE, A. M. of Boston. We read in the early history of tlie Gospel, that when James and Cephas and John perceived the grace that :i to Barnabas and Paul, they gave to them " the right hands of fellowship ;" — intimating, that although they * separate upon different and distant service-, yet their purpose was one, and with one spirit affection and zeal they would initially aid the labours of their departed brethren. It is in conformity to this example of the Apostles, that when a christian brother has been introduced to the oti of the ministry, by prayer and the Living on of the hands of the presbytery ; he is then welcomed to the fellowship of his fathers an I brethren, by the salutation of the right hand. By this act they acknowledge his equal standing and author- ity in the church, they profess their readiness to exchange all the civilities and courtesies of christian intercourse, and they offer the congratulations and fellowship of the churches to him, and to the llock which has received him as a pastor. Arul tlii- i- certainly a beautiful and interesting illustra- tion of the spirit of that religion, which teaches that Christ only is master, and that all his disciples are brethren. For 36 -n this act, the aged, the most experienced mid most wise, are seen uniting to present the hand of a brother to the young and inexperienced ; at once welcoming him to a participa- tion of equal honours and cares, laying on him the hands of paternal blessing, and, by their affectionate counsels and ad- monitions, encouraging and animating his trembling spirit : — Not in the exercise of superior authority, for they claim noue ; not as masters, :ur they are themselves but servants of the great master. But as his servants, in whose cause some have grown grey, and for whom all are read}' to la- bour, and, if need be, sutler, so that his kingdom may be ad- vanced, — as his servants, the}' rejoice to greet another ser- vant and fellow labourer ; and while they conduct him into the vineyard, to acknowledge in him, by a simple ceremo- nial, the pretensions and claims and honours which, as the disciples of a common Lord, he sharesln common with them. They remember that even an Apostle declared, Vv"e have no dominion over your faith, but would be helpers of your joy. And their Lord himself has said, The princes of the gentiles exercise dominion over them, but it shall not be so amongst you. Therefore, when they have brought to the throne of Eternal Mercy their supplications for a blessing from the good spirit of God, and have reminded the candi- date of the solemn charge of souls committed to him, and his final account — then, lest he should be oppressed and dis- heartened by the prospect before him, they step forward with the supporting hand, they pledge themselves to him, as equals and brethren, to assist his toils, to countenance his exertions, to co-operate with his designs, to labour with him when they may be able, and never to withhold their counsels and prayers. With these views, my dear Brother, this Ecclesiastical Council have directed me to give you the Right Hand of J7 their Christian Fellowship. Accept it in their 1 name, and as their act. Accept it as their acknowledgement of your min- isterial character, the pledge of their counsel and aid, their testimony before God and man that they will treat you, and aid you, an.1 pray for you, as a minister of the Lord Jei Christ. — The Elders and Messengers of the assembled churches salute you. Your fathers in Christ salute you. and wish you peace. Your brothers in the Lord salute you, and bid you welcome to a place by their side as a herald of par- don and life — welcome, to the cares and duties, to the honom 1 and pleasures, to the difficulties, trials, and hopes, of the ministry of the NY\\ Testament — welcome, as a supporter of the I the glory of God and the salvation of man: and ' ech God to bless you as the P • ibis church, as an ambass idor i lorious, uncoi rupted, truth. I can bardl) Bay, with what raixt feelings I have performe c this duty. To - I with the office of the chris tian ministry, to ad i as pastor of a christian church — especially of a church in whose anxieties I have bo larg participated, and for whose welfare I have been so deeply solicitous — gives me the most heartfelt satisfaction. I had hoped, indeed, that we should not he thus thrown apart from h other ; but that being engaged in the same pursuits with the sain - we might be permitted to pursue together our appointed course, and walk arm in arm our pilgrin to heaven. But Providence has ordained to you another path of duty ; and you must labour, at a distance from youi early friends, in a new field, bc?et with untried dangers, and a double array of perplexity and care. But you are nol helpless nor alone : — you have friends around you on whom you can confidently lean. You are not helpless n\ THE MORNING OF THE LORD'S DAY, MAY 2 1. 1829, OCCASIONED r.Y Tin: RE< i:m i m vnciiation or the SOMAN CATHOLICS THROUGHOUT THE BRITISH r.^n [RE. BY WILLIAM II. FURNESS. JJhflalKLpIu'a : PRINTED FOR R. H. SMALL, A.\P SOLD BY R. H. SMALL. CAREY, LEA Sc CAREY, AND J. M0R7 James Kay t Jvn. Sf Co. Printers, Library Si. 1829. PUBLISHED BY REQUEST OF THE SOCIETY. I DISCOURSE MATTHEW, XVI. 27. The son of man shall come in the glory of his father, with h\s angels; and then he shall reward every man according to his works. In the minds of the personal attendants of Jesus, already highly wrought up by the hope of the wealth and power that would follow upon the supernatural manifestation of the Messiah, this assurance of their master must have cre- ated a deep joy. He, to whom their vast expectations had attached themselves, was clad indeed in the humble garb of an ordinary individual. No crown of gold covered that head which had not where to repose. No sceptre graced that hand which was busy in administering to human dis- tress in its lowest and most loathsome forms. There was nothing in the external appearance of Jesus that corres- ponded to the ideas his followers had formed of the Messiah. Indeed there was a great deal in his deportment so directly opposed to all their previous conceptions, that their faith in him must have been often and severely tried. Still he showed himself possessed of extraordinary powers, and his singular dignity of character must have inspired respect and confidence. And when he explicitly assured them, as he did in the text, " that he would come in the glory of his Father with his angels," what increased animation must have been imparted to their hopes! They no doubt mo- mently expected that he would throw off his disguise and array himself in preternatural light, and summon from the skies a celestial host and lead his disciples on to universal dominion and boundless enjoyment. They looked for some dazzling exhibition of the divine power and for the visible shapes of angels. While, in this earthly state of their minds, the disciples founded such expectations on the language of their master, I do not believe that he himself intended to promise any outward, visible display, any spectacle of external glory. I do not believe that he meant that he himself was coming, personally, surrounded by an excess of natural light and attended by a throng of heavenly forms. For, in imme- diate connection with the text, he declares that there were those then living, standing by, who would see the Son of Man coming in his kingdom, in his glory. Now we know that no external exhibition of the Messiah's personal glory, such as this passage is commonly supposed to promise, took place in that generation. Again, the whole spirit of our Lord's religion and cha- racter forbids us to interpret his language as referring to any visible appearance of himself in heavenly glory. He came not to dazzle the sight but to bless the mind, to purify the spiritual principle from all the illusions of the senses. He aspired to the glory not of natural — but of moral power. He was himself too spiritual to be attracted by the pros- pect of a personal display, even though it should be extra- ordinary and unearthly. His glory, like the true glory of God, was inward and invisible. It did not address the eye, but the mind, the heart. When, therefore, we hear Jesus Christ speaking of power and glory, we must interpret his language according to the elevated ideas of power and glory which he has given us reason to believe he cherished. A third reason for doubting whether the text is to be understood literally as announcing an outward glory, a visible coming of the Son of Man, is the fact that it is sus- ceptible of a much loftier and grander meaning. The Son of Man shall come in the glory of his Father with his an- gels. Look at Christianity — not that which has been called Christianity, not that heartless profession, not that empty though imposing ceremonial, not that bitter spirit of sec- tarianism that has every where existed in a thousand diver- sified tonus, not that iron despotism which the members of the Christian church have been continually striving to establish over the conscience, and which has cost mankind so many tears and so much blood — Oh no! I think not of these things when I beg you to look at the religion of Jesus ! By Christianity I mean those great but simple truths in which all Christians are more or less interested, and upon which the welfare and the hopes of our race depend. I refer to the glorious account it gives us of the government of the world, and of the character of the Being who presides over the universe — to the assurance which it imparts respecting the lofty uses of human existence. I refer to the useful and efficient principles involved in this knowledge of God and of our own nature. I am speaking of that moral power which, although it has seldom been honoured as Christian truth and as God's spirit, is yet the source whence mankind individually and collectively derive all their comfort, pros- perity, happiness and hope. I am speaking of that to which the cause universal of knowledge and freedom owes 1* 6 all its advancement, and to which every instance of exalted private excellence is to be ascribed. True, spiritual, living Christianity is compounded of those truths upon a convic- tion of which the perfect character of Jesus was built. He it was who first distinctly announced, and gloriously con- firmed them by his works, by his life, and by his death. I pray you now consider Christianity as it has thus been defined ; observe how it has wrestled with the world, infus- ing a nobler strength into human nature, awakening men to a sense of their obligations, their opportunities, and their rights, and moulding society to better and freer forms. Think of its generous ministrations — the new offices of be- nevolence which it has created. Pause over the revela- tions of moral and intellectual good which it has made and is still making, and by which it not only creates a taste, but strengthens in the bosom of man a passionate thirst for improvement. In fine, consider carefully the new and amazing energy that has appeared in the world, and then ask yourselves whether Jesus Christ has not come, aye, whether he is not still coming in the increasing influence and diffused light of his religion, in the triumphant progress of his truth, much more expressively, in a much more ele- vated sense than if he were personally to appear. Suppose now that the heavens over our heads were to be rent in twain by announcing trumps blown by a thousand arch- angels, and that the Son of Man were to be seen, irra- diated by celestial light, and surrounded by a host that no man could count, we should no doubt be stricken to the earth in admiration and awe. Still, all-imposing as the spectacle would be, I do not believe that it would give us so deep and real a sense of the power and glory of Jesus Christ as we may now obtain by considering the extraordinary development of his religion. We should have a human form indeed and human features present to the eye. But to denote the character of Jesus, to lay bare his spirit, to show us the moral and intellectual individual, in all his immortal proportions, what would form and features be in comparison with the illustration of the great Deliverer, which we now enjoy in the unfolded benefits — in the extend- ed success of his works, in the power of his religion. His reli- gion is in a manner his own spirit, which he breathed forth upon the world. And from the stirring and beneficent action of this spirit we gather a sense of the worth and glory of the Lord Jesus, which no bodily appearance, however luminous, could give. We do not see him indeed with our eyes, but his spiritual presence is felt — felt within us — in our own bosoms, and throughout the whole extent iety. Regarding the promised coming of the Son of Man in this spiritual sense, who now will dare to repeat the scepti- cal inquiry of the early scoffers 7 Who now will ask, Where • promise of his coming? Who will affirm that all things will continue as they were at the beginning? Are we not receiving — have we not recently received the most de- cisive intimations of the approach of the Son of Man ? Have we not seen the chains of ecclesiastical despotism stricken oft' from a whole nation ? By one immortal act of legislation the doom of an extensive spiritual oppression has been sealed. Conscience, long prostrate at the feet of power. has risen up at last free. And a new triumph has been gained (to use the magic phrase of Irish eloquence bj "the irresistible genius of universal emancipation." Tn representing the recent acts of the British Senate, which are by no means the least remarkable of the extra- ordinary events that illustrate this period ; in representing these acts as the unequivocal triumphs of Christian truth ; 8 as the tokens of the spiritual coming and glory of Christ; I do not mean to say, that they were the results of an unal- loyed elevated Christian spirit, operating upon the minds of statesmen. Gladly would we believe this. But we know, for it is not attempted to be concealed, that conside- rations of policy have weighed much with some of the im- mediate agents in this noble work. Still, it is neverthe- less, a real, positive triumph of true Christianity. Upon the minds of many of those who have directly contributed to it, a genuine and proper spirit may be supposed to have operated. But even if we had reason to believe that not a single particle of Christian principle influenced the suf- frages that have just been given to justice and liberality, the case would not be altered — it would still be the triumph of Christian truth, the exemplification of the power and glory of the Son of Man. It would be very erroneous to ascribe the great changes and improvements that now take place in the world, to the will of one or a few individuals. They who rule mankind now, must do it by sei-ving them; by observing and following the general spirit of the times — the direction of public opinion. The efficient leader now must be led. And if, at the present day, any import- ant measures are achieved, we may be very sure that the successful impulse has been given by this new and wonder- ful power that has arisen in society, the power of opinion. It is this which has given a tone of confidence to the re- monstrances of the oppressed, and which has in return received increasing strength from the firmness and jus- tice of their appeals. It is this that has given elo- quence and zeal to their advocates in the dominant party. It is this that has inspired a mind whose professional bias we should suppose was somewhat against it, and made one of the greatest generals of the age the sturdy advocate of peace. And the highest praise of the political leaders, on the occasion of which we speak, is, that they have had sa- gacity enough to give timely heed to the distant and approach- ing thunders of the swelling tide of public sentiment. Now in order to perceive that the credit of the late ad- vances of religious freedom is due to Christianity, let me ask what has contributed more than Christianity, to the creation, increase, and strength of a liberal and enlighten- ed public sentiment? Since the religion of Jesus has been in the world, the human mind has been becoming familiar, to a degree unknown before, with the principles of justice, human equality, brotherly love, charity. I would make no empty boast, and deal in no loose, general assertions. Con- sider the records of the Christian faith ? What books have been more widely diffused than these ? What books have received a profounder reverence from the human heart? And what books contain more frequent and explicit ac- knowledgments of the capacities of human nature, more fervent exhortations to mutual love, forbearance and charity? Where shall we find statements better fitted to animate and purify the mind ? To what noble and self-denying labours have they given rise ! What elevated characters have they helped to form ! To what an unconquerable spirit have they ministered in the minds of the wise and the good ! Let these bocks remain — the records of the Christian faith — the pages through which the chosen deliverer of the human mind still instructs the world; let them be circulated, read and listened to, and we can never despair of the cause of human improvement*. It was when * The Protestant should never forget how much he owes to that neglected copy of the Scriptures which Luther found in the library of his monastery.— Robe* tson's Charles V. 10 the Scriptures were locked up from the public eye, that the subjugation of the human soul was the most complete. Let them be brought out and studied with serious, atten- tive, and devout minds. And although men will make the most deplorable mistakes, and build upon them the most erroneous systems and faith, still all the better principles of their nature — their natural sense of justice, of benevo- lence, and truth, will be quickened and purified by the ap- peals every where made to it in the Bible. This has been the case in times past, and Christianity, speaking through her records and through the various useful and benevolent plans which her spirit has originated, has helped most powerfully to familiarise men to the acknowledgment and culture of liberal principles. Some one may possibly deny this statement in all its extent. This much, however, none will question. Every one, the most sceptical, will concede that ever since Christianity has been in the world, there has been infinitely more said about charity, love, and peace than at any former period. Even if there have been perse- cution and bloodshed, still there has been the cant of libe- rality, and vast pretensions have been made to the most comprehensive benevolence. Odious and disgusting as this hypocrisy may be, still it is an index of the es- timation in which those virtues are held, that so many have only assumed. We may be sure that liberal principles have come more in fashion, when there is a great deal of cant about them. Men do not take the trouble to pretend to qualities which are not generally esteemed. The more costly and imposing the hypocrisy, the more profound the homage which is thereby paid to truth and real goodness. The operation of Christianity in disseminating just sen- timents, is a vast and exhaustless subject. And it would require much time and labour to trace the vital spirit of 11 our religion, as it acts upon the infant mind of the indi- vidual, by means of instruction, and through our domestic, civil and religious institutions, as it silently and slowly col- lects strength from innumerable channels, from the influ- ence of exalted individuals, and from the experience of those benevolent affections which it puts into exercise, from the charitable deeds to which it prompts, and the elo- quent page which it inspires, until at last it speaks out in the great and solemn voice of a nation, and is heard in the appeals of an enslaved, or in the shouts of an emancipated people. It is unnecessary now to attempt any further de- tail. Every one, I think, must perceive that Christianity, — not, let me remind you again, not always that system which men have called by this name, but the Christianity of the New Testament, the Christianity that Christ preach- ed, the great law of love and justice which he promulgated, with its large duties and the eternal grounds of its obliga- tion, — every one, I say, must see that this grand principle is doing every thing for the world. It has diffused a better spirit. It has dissipated ignorance, and broken down op- pression, and given tremendous power to the public voice. And this it is which has triumphed most signally in the late important events of which we are taking notice. Yes, my friends, the emancipation of the Irish catholics is the vic- tory of what we who worship in this house consider true Christianity. It is a most gratifying instance of the suc- cess of our principles. And considered in this light, so far from its being vitiated by the supposition that those who were the chief actors in this great measure were not guided by any very elevated motives, the splendour of the triumph is enhanced thereby. For it is manifest that the claims of justice and charity have been put forward so powerfully, that even they who could not sympathise with them, who 12 were opposed to them, have been compelled to submit, nay, to be the principal instruments in the work of satisfying those claims. Nothing is wanting to the glory of the con- quest. The exclusive spirit has been harnessed to the car of improvement, and forced, with some show of good will at least, to drag it on in its bright and interminable career. Considering such events as have recently occurred, such advances in legislation as have been made within a year or two past as the genuine, although unacknowledged results of unadulterated Christianity, do we not also discern in them the glorious and powerful coming of the Son of Man ? When we connect with the author of Christianity the vast and growing benefits which his religion is conferring, how does our sense of his dignity and greatness increase ! Al- though he is not personally present, yet the words that he hath spoken, they are an ever present spirit, they are an undying life, operating upon the human mind, creating within it " a deep sentiment of its own power," enlarging its capacities, and widening the sphere of its action. And this, I say, is the high and glorious sense in which the pro- mise of our Saviour is fulfilled. " If any man," said he upon another occasion, " will keep my commandments, my Father will love him, and we will come unto him and make our abode with him." In this way he has entered the world by his spirit, the spirit of truth. He has not indeed ap- peared to the external eye, but he has penetrated to the very centre of the spiritual creation. By the principles of his religion, he has come down into the very depths of the human soul, and opened its living and eternal fountains, and filled it with light and power. Thus far I have sought to show how the coming of the Son of Man is indicated in the striking progress of liberal principles. The text suggests another idea. The author 13 of Christianity declared that he would come in the glory of his Father. What is the glory of the Father ? What is the glory of God ? If you are satisfied with the general answer, poiver, then where shall we witness a grander de- monstration of power than is accorded in the resistless, al- though gradual and noiseless operation of Christian truth? When the power of God is spoken of, our thoughts in- voluntarily turn to the outward works of nature. We look abroad over the earth, and into that immensity of space in which the earth is but an atom, and we exhaust our won- der in gazing upon the stupendous universe. But surely it requires but little reflection to perceive that there is a display of power still more amazing in these feeble frames of animated dust. After all, wc must come back to our own bosoms for the greatest wonder. What power is there in nature like the power of human intelligence? Confined though wc are to this little earth, we can in a manner com- prehend the structure and the uses of the vast creation of which we are a part, communicate with the remotest ob- jects, and make the far off stars subserve the purposes of human enterprise. But why need I linger to specify the instances of man's power ? The whole earth is changing under the plastic hand of human industry. And God hath given man power over all the works of his hands. The glory of the Deity, then, as a Creator, is seen most brightly in the human soul. If so, then his glory in revelation, the glory which he displays in Christianity, and which attends the Son of Man, is apparent in the power of those princi- ples that sway the soul, and call out all its energies. Yes, in the mighty operations of Christian truth, we discern the glory, the loftiest exercise of the power of God. Man stands at the head of the creation, and the principles of Christianity are the instruments, the sceptre and the dia- 14 dem of his dominion; and in them that glory of the Father, in which the Son of Man comes, is visible. Consider what power they have been displaying. They are throwing off from the human mind the ponderous masses of ignorance and superstition which have been accumulating over it for ages. Without receiving that reverence which is their due, with- out being acknowledged as the essential principles of Chris- tianity, they have yet worked mightily. They are gradu- ally, but surely, accomplishing the downfall of every error which has usurped the name of Christianity, and obtained all the influence which that name gives, — and it is by no means slight. This sort of power, the simple principles of Christianity, justice, and charity, have most strik- ingly displayed, in those recent events which have sug- gested our present reflections. How many are there in the land of our fathers who regard the late concessions to their Catholic brethren as grievous insults to Chris- tianity, and direct attacks upon her interests. They have fancied themselves justified in their opposition by all that they hold dear in the name of religion. And thus Christianity has been compelled to grapple with pre- judice and ignorance, sanctified, baptized into her own august and venerable name. You cannot but feel that there is no instance of the Divine Power on the earth or in the heavens over our heads so illustrious as this — the moral power of truth over the passions of the human soul. The sight of it creates within us a deep and penetrating sense of God's glory, and we perceive, with strong emotion, how it is that the Son of Man comes in the glory of his Father. But after all the power of God is not his principal glory. His character as the Father — his boundless love is his brightest attribute. It requires but a few words to show 15 how the progress of Christianity, the inward coming of Christ is accompanied by the glory of this chief perfection. Christianity, wherever it comes, not only announces God in so many words as the Infinite and Eternal Father : in its revelations respecting man's nature, duty, and destina- tion, in its rich provisions for his spiritual welfare and ad- vancement, it gives us evidences of a love that infinitely transcends the imperfect impulses of parental affection. And the more thorough its action upon our own minds and upon society around us, the richer experience, the deeper impression does it give us of the glory of the Almighty Father. Indeed there is no way in which we could per- ceive the parental glory of God, but by having spread out before us the expressions of his parental love — the gifts of his bounty. And what gifts can God bestow richer than those which he communicates through the religion of his Son ? Does he not therein offer us his own spirit — the spirit of goodness, of love, and of truth ? Does he not thereby make us partakers of his own nature, and invite us to assimilate ourselves to him ? What more could a Father, infinitely good, what more, could he do ? And in what more expressive way could he illuminate the human mind with the blaze of his glory ? All this has he done through the Gospel. And magnificent was the promise of the Son of Man when he said he would come in the glory of his Father. As men learn to observe the law of justice and love which Christianity promulgates ; as the partition walls by which the Christian community is divided are prostrated; as we all learn to live together like one family ; as our capacities of enlargement and happiness are improved, how will the paternal glory of the Most High shine upon the 16 world in increasing splendour, attending upon the religion of Jesus. No visible seraphs are here to follow in the triumph of truth, and to extend their guardian wings over human interests. But in the celestial influences of Chris- tianity, operating under a thousand modifications, the rapt imagination discerns the beautiful attendants of truth, the angel protectors of man. Once more. Our Lord declares that when he comes in the glory of his Father, he will reward every man according to his works. In illustration of this part of the prophecy I would ask whether it is not the manifest result of Chris- tian principles, so far as they are established, to make men happy or miserable according to their characters ? When the judgments of society shall be determined by Christian truth and justice, then the good only will be respected, honoured, and prospered, and the bad disgraced and de- graded. The great moral distinctions will be made to ap- pear. This is the way in which the Son of Man, by means of his religion, will judge every one, and render unto him according to his works. And let no one think that this is a light judgment. There is perhaps no audible voice of condemnation — no judgment seat invested with the awful symbols of justice. But the judge within the breast, " the delegated voice of God," passes sentence, and it is made terribly severe because it is supported by every sentiment of right, and by the unanimous decision of all men. Chris- tianity, by infusing its spirit into the human mind, makes the whole moral world the organ of its righteous decrees, and Christ and God speak out from the whole spiritual creation. The solemnity of the Divine judgment thus passed may not now be felt in all its extent ; because Chris- tian principles are not fully established, and the general 17 sentiment of justice is not yet thoroughly enlightened. But as the progress of truth is accelerated, as the Son of Man comes in increasing power and glory, men will be more and more judged according to their works. The way of honour, success and happiness will be thrown open to the honest, benevolent and virtuous, while he who disregards the claims of right, will be cut off from the respect and confidence of the world; yes, and from his own self-re- spect, and from all the blessings of which these are the means. And what blessing is there of which they are not the means ? Observe how the recent progress of the cause of religious liberty attests the truth of our remarks. A false, artificial and unchristian standard of respectability and influence has been thrown down. One of the most powerful nations on the face of the earth has, by one or two recent acts, declared that men shall be judged by their professions no longer. l This man,' she has said, l shall not be respected and advanced because he holds to a certain form of faith, nor shall that man be excluded and depressed because he professes a different belief. This is a false and ruinous mode of judging. We will use it no longer ; at least, it shall no longer receive the sanction of legislative enactment. Henceforth let the prize of honour and influence be for all the honest and the good of every name and denomination. Yes, the suspected Catholic shall henceforth be treated as a man and brother, and rewarded or punished by the rules to which all others are bound to submit.' In this true and liberal step, oh what a pledge have we that at last the judgment seat of pure and uncor- rupt Christianity will be erected among men, and the book of unerring justice opened thereon ; and before it will be •jathered all nations, and they shall be separated, distin- 18 guished from one another, the sheep from the goats, not by the erroneous standards of profession, but by their works, and the Son of Man, speaking through the presiding ge- nius of his religion, shall say unto the truly good, "Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world," receive the honour, the happiness, and the immortal hope, which from eternity God has determined shall belong only to virtue ; while the wicked shall undergo, without alleviation, that salutary but indescribable suffering which is the essential property of sin. Because I have endeavoured to show that the judgment of which our Lord speaks commences in this world, with the dominion of Christianity, let it not be supposed that no judgment will be passed in the world to come. There is no room for such an inference. The judgment that be- gins here is perfected in the life beyond the grave. There the good alone are rewarded, are happy ; the wick- ed -miserable. There, there are no obstructions to the course of absolute justice. The blessed community of heaven is constructed upon the most perfect form. At the same time it is the purpose of Christianity to create this world anew, and to raise it to some faint resemblance of the more perfect state into which we may hereafter be in- troduced. And this its purpose is manifested by the ten- dency of its principles, by the course of improvement, by the recent progress that has been made toward heavenly things. In conclusion, my friends, how animating is it to watch the advancement of the human race, and to feel (as be- lievers in Christianity we are permitted to feel) that all the improvements which are taking place in the arts, in mo- 19 rals, in the science of government — that all these things are occurring in the natural and designed progress of things ! He who has no lively sense of the providence of an Almighty Father (and I know not where such a con- viction can be obtained but from Christianity) is compell- ed to regard the greatest advances of the mind only as for- tunate accidents. The pleasure with which he observes them must be destroyed by the apprehension that can- not be escaped of endless fluctuations in human affairs. He knows not that the tide of ignorance will be forever stayed. By some unhappy accident it may roll back again, and cover the world with the marks of desolation and misery. Whereas we believe that all the improvements that man makes, he was designed to make; that it was the purpose of God, from the foundation of the world, that we should go on ascending in the ways of intelligence and moral and intellectual power; that the particular inventions that men have fallen upon, to facilitate their advancement, were des- tined, in the providence of God, to be attained sooner or later — that all these things are the fulfilment of an om- nipotent design. With this faith, no fears can depress us. No, although much of what has now been gained should be lost ; hope, Christian hope would be triumphant still. Although clouds and darkness should come back, and set- tle over the condition of man, and human things should be thrown into disorder and confusion, and the fires of bar- barism should again devour the hoarded wisdom of ages, still hope would smile, and light her torch at the flames. But we have little comparatively to try our faith now. There is much, very much to encourage it, in that event which has guided our meditations at this time. And oh what confident anticipations of good fill our bosoms, when wo V W 20 come back to this broad and happy land of ours, and re- collect that it has just been declared in our legislative halls (somewhat boastfully perhaps) that " what other nations call religious toleration we call religious rights." But while our hearts burn within us at the contempla- tion of these rejoicing topics, we must not forget that the cause of freedom, civil and religious, the interests of truth and goodness, and our welfare here and hereafter, depend upon ourselves. Truth has no power, abstractly considered. Our efforts are the constituted and essential means, by which the glorious ends of Christianity are to be accomplished. If we fail to be just, liberal, and pure, the cause of justice, liberality, and purity fails, and precisely in proportion to our deficiency. So long as man is insensible, the progress of all truth is checked ; and it will never go on until we are aroused to our obligations. Oh let us not then go away from this house, and from these reflections, without a so- lemn determination to surrender ourselves to the power of Christianity — to enrol ourselves among the true, spiritual subjects of the Lord Jesus. Let us open our hearts to him, that he may enter in by the influence of his religion. Let him dwell within us, by the efficacy of his sublime and generous truth; and in the whole course of our conduct let us resolve anew that we will be guided by liberal and just principles; that the spirit of gentleness and love shall never forsake our hearts, nor the rule of Christian integrity be for one moment forgotten in our transactions with the world. That this resolution may be successful, cultivate a communion with the source of all perfection. Let the thought of God's unbounded benevolence be present habi- tually to our minds. Let the Lord Jesus, to whom we owe so much, be the pattern by which we form our lives. And 21 when this is the spirit of every man, then will the pro- mise of the text be fulfilled without qualification, and in a sense more elevated than we can now possibly con- ceive — then will the Son of Man come in the fulness of the divine glory with all his angels. THE END J SIMPLICITY IN THE CHRISTIAN FAITH ALIKE SCRIP* TURAL AND POWERFUL. A SERMON, DELIVERED ON THE MORNING OF LORD'S DAY, JULY 1, 1827, AT THE Sctontr SuSrncn&rnt <£i)ttrtt) IN CHARLESTON, S. C. BY MELLISH I. MOTTE, [Published l>y request of the Managers of the Charleston Unitarian Book Society.] ,,♦, ,4, ,4y TTT '(< '}• '}i