THE
WAY OF SALVATION
ILLUSTRATED IN
A SERIES O0  DISCOURSES.
BY
ALBERT BARNES.
PHILADELPHIA:
PUBLISHED BY PARBRY AND BI'MMILLAN,
(SUCCESSORS TO A. HART, LATE CAREY AND HART.)
LONDON: KNIGHT AND SON.
1855.




Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1855, by
ALBERT BARNES,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States, in and
for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania.
Printed by T. E. & P. G. Collins




PREFACE.
THltERE are two classes of Sermons. One is composed of
those which enter into the permanent literature of a nation,
and which take their rank with its most pure and elevated
writings, as enduring monuments of argument and of style.
The English language is, perhaps, more rich in this species
of literature than any other. IFor lucid statement; for profound argument; for richness of imagination; for copiousness of illustration; for beauty of style; for just views of
morals,-the sermons of Barrow, and Tillotson, and Jeremy
Taylor, and South, have taken their place with the best
classical writings in our language.
The other class is composed of those which are of a less
exalted and'permanent character, and which are adapted to
meet only a local or a temporary, though it may be a very
important purpose.  They are addressed mainly to the passing age. They are adapted to meet some peculiar state of
public opinion, or some prevailing phase of error. They are
designed to illustrate the doctrines and duties of religion
in the language and style of that age.  They, perhaps,
have some temporary and local advantage from the name of
the author, or from the relations which he sustains to a
particular congregation.  They accomplish an important
purpose on a limited scale, and then pass away, with much
of the literature of past ages, to be recalled and remembered
no more.




Vi                       PREFACE.
The volume of Sermons now submitted to the public does
not aspire to the dignity of the former class, nor is there
any hope or expectation that it will occupy that elevated
rank.  All the hopes cherished in respect to it will be
accomplished, if it has a place of temporary usefulness among
the other class of sermons referred to, and if it may be made
a means, to any extent, of meeting the wants of any portion
of the passing generation.
This work has been prepared at the suggestion and the
request of the English publishers.  As it seemed desirable
that there should be some unity of design which might be
expressed by an appropriate title," THE WAY o: SALVATION"
has been selected as indicating, in the main, the purpose
and character of the volume; and though not properly a
treatise on that subject, yet it will be found, I trust, that all
the Sermons have a bearing more or less direct upon the
theme, and that each one will help to remove some obstacle,
to explain some difficulty, or to throw some light on the
points on which one inquiring how man can be saved, might
desire information.
The volume is not an argument for the truth of revelation, nor is it designed formally to meet the objections of
infidels, the difficulties of honest sceptics, or the sneers of
cavillers.  The man whom  I have had in my eye in the
preparation of the discourses-as I have usually had in my
preaching on these and kindred topics-is not he who
disbelieves because he chooses to do so; nor he who prefers
to be a sceptic; nor the mere caviller, who, because he
can laugh at death and the judgment, seeks to satisfy his
conscience that it is right to do so; nor he who desires
to find difficulties in religion because he is unwilling to
submit to its claims and its restraints: —but I have had
in. my eye a class of minds, much larger than is generally




PREFACE.                        vii
supposed to exist, which see real difficulties in religion
which they would not be unwilling to have explained.
They are minds so constituted that they see the cdificulties in
believing as well as the facilities for it-the things which tend
to hi2der it, as well as those which tend to promote it. In all
communities there are probably many of this class of minds.
They should not be regarded as confirmed in infidelity, and
still less as disposed to cavil; but they see real difficulties
in  Christianity and in the plan of salvation, and they
would be gratified, not offended, to find a rational solution
of them.  It is in vain to deny that there are such difficulties; and though he who has a mind so constituted as
never to have seen them  may be regarded as in some respects in a very enviable situation, yet he greatly errs in
regard to human nature, and greatly underrates the magnitude of the subject of religion, who supposes that to all contemplative minds, even to candid minds, the subject appears
to be free from perplexity and doubt. A perceived difficulty
in the doctrines of religion-a difficulty so great as to lead
to weighty and perplexing doubts-is not always proof of a
depraved heart.
I may be permitted to remark, perhaps, as explaining the
general character of the Sermons in this volume, that from
the native tendencies of my own mind, from  my early
cherished habits of thought, and from my early reading, I
have had this class of minds more frequently in my eye, in
preaching, than any other.  It has not been by avowedly
meeting the arguments and difficulties of such minds; it
has not been by a formal defence of the doctrines of Christianity against the objections of infidels; it has not been by
an open reply to the objections of sceptics or cavillers, but
as a secret guide to my line of argumentwz and thlougJt, that I
have had such minds almost constantly before me.  My




yvii                    PREFACE.
own imiind has suggested what I have supposed they would
suggest; and in meeting difficulties which have occurred to
me, I have supposed that I have also met those which would
occur to them. I cannot here repress the acknowledgment of
the debt which, in this respect, I owe to " Butler's Analogy"
-a work which has met more difficulties in my own mind,
and aided me more in preaching, than any other work of
uninspired composition. A careful reader of these Sermons
will perceive that, in their preparation, I owe to that great
work even much more than can be expressed by such a
general acknowledgment.
These remarks may suffice to explain the pervading character of this volume of Sermons.  In their general arrangement, they begin with a consideration of the claims of the
Bible as a guide on the subject of religion (Sermon I.), and
with an effort to show (Sermon II.) that the acknowledged
obscurities in that book should not deter us from accrediting
its claims; with a statement (Sermon III.) of the claims of
Christianity, and an attempt to show (Sermon iv.) that the
condition of man could not be benefited by the rejection of
Christianity, and that the same difficulties precisely would
remain, with no known method whatever of relief.  The
next object (Sermon v.) is to show that Christianity reveals
the true ground of the importance attributed  to man
in the plan of salvation; that the earth is fitted to be
a place of probation (Sermon vI.), and that man is actually
on probation (Sermon vii.); and that in religion, as in
other things, he should accommodate himself to what
are the actual arrangements of the Divine government
(Sermon viIi.)  The next object is to explain the condition
in which the Gospel FINDS man-as an actual state which
Christianity did not originate, for which it is not responsible, and which is a simple matter of fact in which all men




PREFACE.                       ix
are equally interested, whatever system of religion may be
true or false (Sermon ix.); a state which naturally prompts
to the inquiry what must be done in order to be saved-an
inquiry which springs up in the heart of man everywhere,
and in reference to which man pants for an answer (Sermon x.)  This is followed (Sermons xi.-xiv.) by a description of the struggles of a convicted sinner-and by an
attempt to show what is necessary, in the nature of things,
to give peace to a mind in that condition.  To meet the
case, the mind thus anxious is directed to the mercy of God
(Sermon xv.), and the effort is made to show that it is only
an atonement for sin that can give permanent peace to the
soul conscious of guilt (Sermons xvi., xvii.) The doctrine
of Regeneration, or the new birth, is then considered (Sermons xviii.-xx.); an attempt is made to vindicate and
explain the conditions-repentance and faith-which are
made necessary to salvation, and to show not only their
place in a revealed system of religion, but their relation to
the human mind and the circumstances in which man is
placed (Sermons xxI.-xxvIII.); and the whole series is
closed (Sermons xxix.-xxxvi.) by a consideration of the
nature of justification, or the method by which a sinner may
be just with God.
It will be seen that these topics embrace the most material
and important inquiries which come before the mind on the
question how man may be saved; and if a correct representation is given of them, they will furnish to an inquirer after
truth a just view of the way of salvation.
I commit this volume to the public with the hope that it
may be found to be a safe guide on the most momentous
inquiry which can come before the human mind.  I have
abundant occasion for gratitude for the manner in which
the volumes that I have published heretofore have been




X                     PREFACE.
received by the British public, as well as by my own countrymen; and I would hope that this volume may contribute
something to the diffusion of the knowledge of the great
principles of religious duty and doctrine which it has been
the labour of my life to illustrate and defend.
ALBERT BARNES.
PHILADELPHIA,
May 19, 1855.




CONTENTS.
PAGE
I.-THE BIBLE........       1
II.-THE OBSCURITIES OF DIVINE REVELATION...   17
III.-THE CLAIMS OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION.   33
IV.-THE CONDITION OF IAN NOT BENEFITED BY THE
REJECTION OF CHRISTIANITY...              45
V.-THE IMPORTANCE OF MAN...                         58
VI.-THE EARTH A PLACE OF PROBATION....  72
II. —MAN ON PROBATION...........        85
VIII.-THE NECESSITY OF ACCOMMODATING OURSELVES TO
THE ARRANGEMENTS OF THE DIVINE GOVERNMENT. 96
IX.-THE STATE IN WHICH THE GOSPEL FINDS MAN., 108
X.-THE INQUIRY, WHAT lMUST I DO TO BE SAVED?..122
XI.-CONVICTION OF SIN............ 135
XII.-THE STRUGGLES OF A CONVICTED SINNER.... 149
XIII.-A WOUNDED SPIRIT........                     163
XIV.-WHAT WILL GIVE PERMANENT PEACE TO A SOUL CONVICTED OF SIN............ 177
XV. —THE MERCY OF GOD.......... 191
XVI.-THE ATONEMENT AS FITTED TO GIVE PEACE TO A
CONVICTED SINNER........... 206
XVII.-THE ATONEMENT AS IT REMOVES THE OBSTACLES IN
THE WAY OF PARDON........ 219
XVIII.-THE NECESSITY OF REGENERATION...... 233
XIX.-THE NATURE OF REGENERATION......  246




xii                   CONTENTS.
PAGE
XX.-THE AGENCY OF THE HOLY SPIRIT IN REGENERATION..............  259
XXI.-THE NATURE OF REPENTANCE.......   273
XXII.-THE RELATION OF REPENTANCE TO PARDON IN THE
CHRISTIAN SYSTEM..........  286
XXIII. —THE PHILOSOPHICAL NECESSITY OF REPENTANCE. 298
XXIV.-THE FOUNDATION OF THE COMMAND TO REPENT
LAID IN THE CHARACTER OF MAN.. 311
XXV.-THE EVIDENCES OF TRUE REPENTANCE.     323
XXVI.-FAITH A CONDITION OF SALVATION.....337
XXVII. —THE VALUE AND IMPORTANCE OF FAITH... 349
XXVIII.-FAITH AS AN ELEMENTARY PRINCIPLE OF ACTION. 362
XXIX.-THE IMPORTANCE OF THE INQUIRY, HOW SHALL
MAN BE JUST WITH GOD?.....   374
XXX.-MAN CANNOT JUSTIFY HIMSELF BY DENYING OR
DISPROVING THE CHARGE OF GUILT.... 386
XXXI. —MAN CANNOT JUSTIFY HIMSELF BY SHOWING THAT
HIS CONDUCT IS RIGHT.........  397
XXII.-MIAN CANNOT MERIT SALVATION..  409
XXXIII. —WHAT IS MEANT BY THE MERITS OF CHRIST.. 422
XXXIV.-IN WHAT SENSE WE ARE JUSTIFIED BY THE MERITS
OF CHRIST..... ~. 434
XXXV.-THE INFLUENCE OF FAITH IN JUSTIFICATION.. 447
XXXVI.-THE BEARING AND IMPORTANCE OF THE DOCTRINE
OF JUSTIFICATION BY FAITH.   b... o 461




T/HE
WAY OF SALVATION.
SERMON I.
THE BIBLE.
PSALM cxix. 105.-" Thy word' is a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto
my path."
MY wish, in illustration of this text, is to call your attention to
the BIBLE. It is not to pronounce an eulogy on it, or to enter
into an argument for its Divine origin, or to state and defend
its doctrines; but it is to urge its claims to attention, particularly as laying the foundation for the only true knowledge of the
Way of Salvation.
When a man, especially one who has cherished sceptical views
and feelings, sits down to read the Bible, there is a class of
thoughts that bear upon his mind wholly different from such as
exist when he peruses any other book. When he sits down to
the study of the Iliad, he is conscious that he is perusing the most
celebrated poem of the world. It has come down from a very
remote antiquity; it has been read by millions, and always with
increasing pleasure; it has commanded the admiration of the
most eminent scholars of all ages. He feels, therefore, that his
perusal of it will be attended with no discredit anywhere; and
it will excite no feeling of shame in his bosom should it be
known by all his friends that he is engaged in that employment.
Substantially the same feeling exists when he reads the Paradise
Lost.  To admire it, is an evidence of good taste; and an intimate acquaintance with it will be a passport of some value to
the good esteem of others, and will never suffuse his cheek with
a blush. The same remarks might be made of Herodotus and
Xenophon; of Hume and Gibbon; of Seneca and Bacon; of the
Spectator and the Rambler. No young man could be found
who would think it necessary to practise any concealment in




2                THTE WAY OF SALVATION,
reading them; no one would close them if surprised in their
perusal; no one would feel the blood mounting to his cheek as
if he were engaged in an occupation which he would rather
should be unknown.  On the contrary, he knows that he will
rise in the estimation of others in proportion to his familiarity
with such productions of genius and taste, and is furnishing
evidence that he is worthy of esteem.
But when he sits down to read the Bible, he is surrounded by
a new  set of influences, and is conscious of a new  train of
emotions.  Unless he is a Christian, he enters upon it as if it
were some deed that is to be done when alone.  He would feel
some revulsion at being  surprised in  the employment.  He
would expect that it would excite remark-perhaps a playful
remark-if he were to select this book for perusal from  a collection of annlals and poems on a centre table.  He would be apt
to close it if he was found reading it when he had laid down
his HIomer or his Virgil, his Addison or Shakspeare or Byron,
for this purpose.  His first feeling is, that it is a book of
RELIGION, and that to read it will be understood to be indicative
of seriousness, and, a purpose to become a Christian. He is
intimidated also by a somewhat antiquated style, and by what
seems to him an uncouth phraseology; and, perhaps, he would
be also by its denunciation of some passion that reigns in his
heart; by its frequent reference to death and the judgment; and
by the serious and solemn tone which everywhere pervades it.
It is a book which he does not mean wholly to neglect, but its
perusal he intends to defer until that somewhat remote period
when it will be necessary to prepare for the future state, and
when he purposes, as preliminary to that, to become religious.
The consequence of such feelings is, that the Bible is a book
greatly neglected. Many are quite familiar with a considerable
part of the range of ancient classic learning, who have almost
no acquaintance with the sacred Scriptures.   Iany are familiar
with the whole range of fictitious literature to which this age
has given birth, who are strangers almost wholly to the Book of
God, except in name.  Many see exquisite beauty in the poets
of modern times, who see none in the " sweet psalmist of Israel;"
and many find pleasure in copious draughts from the fountains
of Helicon, who have no relish for the " gently flowing" waters
of Siloam. I may add, too, that the people in a nominally
Christian community are distinguished pre-eminently for the
neglect of the oracles of the religion which prevails in their
own country.  The Mussulman reads the Koran with profound
attention, and without any consciousness of doing  anything




THE BIBLE.                            3
that should excite a blush; the Shasters and Vedas of the Hindoos
are read by the worshippers of the gods with anxious care; but
how few are there, except professed Christians, who are in the
regular habit of reading the Bible!  low few young men are
there who could be seen reading it without some consciousness
that they were doing that which they would rather not have
known!
I will, therefore, proceed to  suggest some considerations
designed to urge upon you the study of the Bible; and shall
deem it a sufficient reward for my labour if I can induce but
one to commence and continue the practice through life.
I. In the first place, it is thle oldest book in the world. Of
course you will not understand me as saying that the entire Bible
is more ancient than any other book.  I know that some parts
of it were written since the time of Hesiod and Homer; of
Xenophon and Herodotus; of Demosthenes and Plato. But what
I mean is, that some portions of it stretch far back beyond the
records of classic literature, and before the dawn of wellauthenticated profane history.  Hie who sits down to read the
book  of Job may do it with the mlorsl  certainty that he is
perusing the most ancient written poemn in the world; and he
who reads the book of Genesis is certain that he is perusing a
history that was penned long before any Grecian writer collected
and recorded  the deeds of ancient times.  Take away the
history of the past which we have in the Bible, and there are at
least some two thousand years of the existence of our race of
which we know nothing-and that too the formi.ng period, and
in many respects the most interesting part of the history of
the world.  Begin, in your investigation of past events, where
ancient profane history begins, and you are plunged into the
midst of a state of affairs of vwhose origin you know nothing,
and where the mind wanders in perfect night, and can find no
rest.  Kingdoms are seen, but no one can tell when or how
they were founded; cities appear, whose origin no one knows;
heroes are playing their part in the great and mysterious drama,
but no  one knows whence they came, and what are their
designs; a race of beings is seen whose origini is unknown, and
the past periods of whose existence on the earth no one can
determine-a race formed no one can tell for what purpose, or
by what hand. Vast multitudes of beings are suffering and
dying for causes which no one can explain; a generation in
their own journey to the grave tread over the monuments of
extinct generations, and with the memorials of fearful changes
and convulsions in the past all around them, of which no one




4              THE WAY OF SALVATION.
can give an account. Begin your knowledge of the past at the
remotest period to which profane history would conduct you,
and you are in the midst of chaos, and you cannot advance a
step without going into deeper night-a night strikingly resembling that which the oldest poet in the world describes as
the abode of the dead:-" The land of darkness and the shadow
of death; a land of darkness as darkness itself; and of the
shadow of death, without aly order, and where the light is as
darkness." Job x. 21, 22. And thus in reference to the darkness
of the past-the history of our race in its by-gone periodsbeyond the reach of all other guides-the Bible is " a lamp
unto our feet, and a light unto our path."
Now there is some interest, at least, in the fact that we have
in our possession the most ancient book which was ever written.
We should feel some interest in seeing and conversing with a
man who had lived on earth during all that time, and had looked
on the sun, and stars, and earth before the time of Hesiod and
Homer; who had lived amidst all the revolutions of past kingdoms and empires-while proud Assyria spread its conquests
and fell; while Babylon rose and declined; while Rome carried
its arms around the world and sank:-if he had lived on while
seasons walked their rounds, and had seen fifty generations
buried, and had come to us now with the ancient costume and
manners, to tell us what was in the days of Noah or Abraham.
We contemplate with deep interest an " ancient river;" and no
one ever looked on the Mississippi or the Ganges for the first
time without emotion. So of a venerable elm or oak that has
stood while many a winter storm has howled through its branches,
and while the trees that grew up with it have long since decayed.
So with an ancient bulwark or castle; an ancient monument,
or work of art. Whatever stands alone, and has lived on while
others have decayed, excites our admiration. The pyramids of
Egypt, and the tombs of the kings of Thebes, and the pillar of
Pompey, thus attract attention.  Any lonely memento of the
past has a claim to our regard, and excites an interest, which
we feel for nothing when surrounded by the objects amidst which
it rose. In the wastes of Arabia, between the Nile and Mount
Sinai, there stand some half a- dozen or more headstones in an
ancient burying-place. There is not a town, or city, or house,
or tent, or fertile field near. They are the lonely memorials of
a far-distant generation. All else is gone,-the men that placed
them  there; the towns where they dwelt; the mouldering
ashes, and the names of those whose last place of sleep they
mark. So the Bible stands in the past.  All is desolation




THE BIBLE.                         5
around it. The books that were written when that was, if
there were any, are gone. The generations that lived then
are gone. The cities where they dwelt are gone. Their tombs
and monuments are gone; and the Bible is all that we have to
tell us who they were, why they lived, and what occurred in
their times. Had the Bible to this day been unknown, or were
it suddenly discovered in some venerable ruin and authenticated,
who would not hail such a monument of what occurred in the
past periods of the world?
The circumstance here referred to of the antiquity of the
Bible derives additional interest from the attempts which have
been made to destroy it. No book has excited so much opposition as this; but it has survived every attack which power,
talent, and eloquence have ever made on it. Now, we do and
we should feel an interest in anything which has survived
repeated attempts to destroy it. The remnant of an army that
has survived a battle, and that has successfully resisted great
numbers in the conflicts of war; the tree that has stood firm
when all others in its neighbourhood have been prostrated; the
ancient castle that has sustained many a siege, and that remains
impregnable; the solid rock that has been washed by floods
for centuries, and that has not been swept away-all excite a
deep interest. We love to contemplate these, and we should
deem ourselves destitute of all right feeling if we should pass
them  by without attention.  But no army ever survived so
many battles as the Bible; no tree has stood so long, and
weathered so many storms; no ancient bulwark has endured so
many sieges, and stood so firm amid the thunders of war and
the ravages of time; and no rock has been swept by so many
currents, and has still stood unmoved. It has outlived all
conflicts, survived all the changes in empires, and come down
to us notwithstanding all the efforts made to destroy it; and
while the stream of time has rolled on, and thousands of other
books have been engulphed, this book has been borne triumphantly on the wave. It has shown that it is destined to be
borne onward to the end of time, while millions of others shall
sink degradedly to the bottom.
II. The second consideration which I suggest is, that the
Bible contains the religion of your country. Chillingworth uttered
a sentiment which contains as much meauingt as can be well
condensed into a few words, whenl he stid, that " The Bible is
the religion of Protestants."  In a similar sense, we may say
that the Bible is the religion of our country. The ancient
religion of Persia is in the Zendavesta; the religion of India




6               THE WAY OF SALVATION.
is in the Shasters; the religion of Turkey is in the Koran; the
religion of our country is in the Bible.  We have no religion
in this land, and can have none, which is not in the Bible.
Throughout the length and breadth of this great nation there
is not an altar erected to an idol-god; nor in all our history
has a molten image been cast, or a carved block received the
homage of an American citizen. Not a temple has been reared
in honour of a pagan divinity, nor is the knee bent anywhere
to adore the hosts of heaven. It is a remarkable, but indisputable
fact, that they who reject the Bible in our country have no
altar; no temple; no worship; no religion. They offer no
sacrifice; they have no incense; they have no books of praise
or of prayer-no hymn-book, and no liturgy; they are emphatically living without God in the world. No religion will be
sustained in this land which does not appeal to the Bible; and
if that is driven away, we shall be a people without any religion.
The religion of this nation is to be the Christian religion or
none; and when an American is asked what is his religion, he
can only refer to the Bible.
We have, indeed, our different opinions. We are divided into
sects and denominations, with peculiar views and modes of
worship, yet with a good degree of common sympathy and of
fraternalfeeling; and we all harmonize in the sentiment, that
whatever religion there is in this land is in the Bible, and that
that is the rule of faith and practice. Our religion is not in
creeds and confessions; in catechisms and symbols; in tradition
and the decrees of synods and councils; it is IN THE BIBLE.
To that, as a common standard, we all appeal; and around that
we all rally. Much as Christians differ from  each other, all
would rush to the defence of that Book when attacked, and all
regard it as the fountain of their opinions and the source of
their hopes.
There is, moreover, among Christians in this country a yrowing
conviction that the standard of all religion is the Bible.  There
is less and less confidence in the deductions of reason; less
reliance on creeds and confessions and tradition; less dependence
on the judgment of man, and a more simple dependence on the
word of God. It is, and it is to be, a great principle in this
nation, that the Bible contains our religion.
Now, if this be so, then the reasons why the Bible should be
studied are very obvious.  One is, that any man must be destitute of a very essential part of valuable knowledge if he is
ignorant of the foundation of the religion of his own country.
Its institutions he can never understand, nor can he ever be fully




THE BIBLE.                         7
prepared to discharge his duty in any calling in this country
without an acquaintance with the sacred Scriptures. As connected with the history and institutions of his country, and as
here destined to exert a controlling influence over millions of the
most free minds on the earth, it demands his profound attention.
I confess I feel a deep interest in the Koran, though I never
expect to be subject in any way to the laws of that book; and
though I have never been able to read it though, often as I have
resolved I would read it, and have attempted to do it. But I feel
an interest in any book that has power to hold one hundred and
twenty millions of the human race in subjection, and to mould the
institutions and laws of so large a portion of mankind. I feel far
more interest in that than I can in the power of Alexander, who
subdued the world by arms; or of the Autocrat of the Russias, who
rules a vast empire by hereditary might; or even of Napoleon,
who held nations in subjection by a most potent and active will..For in such cases there is living power, and there are vast
armies, and frowning bulwarks, and long lines of open-mouthed
cannon prepared to pour sheets of flame on all who dare oppose.
But the dominion of the Koran is THE DOMINION OF A BOOKa silent, still, speechless thing, that has no will, no armies, no
living energies, no chain-shot, no cannons;-and yet it exerts a
power which the monarch and the conqueror never wields.  It
lives, too, when monarchs and conquerors have died.  It meets
advancing generations, and subdues their wills too. It moulds
their opinions, leads them to the temples of worship, and controls their passions with a power which monarchs never knew.
So it is with the BIBLE. That, too, is a book-a silent, speechless book. But in our own land, twenty millions acknowledge its right to give laws; and in other lands, one hundred
millions confess its power; and in past times, many thousand
millions have been moulded by its precepts, and I would not be
ignorant of that which exerts a control so near Omnipotence
over so many human minds.
Again: No man should be a stranger to the religion of his
country. At some future period of life, and that not far distant,
these questions may be asked of some young man here, for aught
you know, on the shores of India, or in the islands of the Pacific,
or in the heart of the Celestial Empire:-' What is the religion of
the United States P On what is it based? What are the doctrines
of the Book which is the acknowledged authority there? By
whom, and when, and where was it written? And why is it
there received as of Divine origin?'  How many a young American may have been asked these questions, who was as unable.o




8                 THE WAY OF SALVATION.
to answer them as he would be similar inquiries respecting the
Koran or the Shasters! How strange to an intelligent foreigner
would it seem  that one from  a land like this could give no
account of the religion of his own country!
There is another thought here, which I wish to express with
as much deference for the elevated classes in our land as possible.
Some who read these pages may possibly yet occupy places of
influence and power in the councils of the nation, or be called
as professional men to appear in conspicuous stations before
their countrymen.  Now the idea which I wish to express is,
that the uses which are made of the Bible, and the allusions to
it, by men in public life, are sometimes such as may admonish
those who are coming on to the stage of action to become familiar with it, and such as are anything but commendatory of the
knowledge which they have of the one Book which, more than
any other, controls this nation. Shakspeare shall not be inaccurately quoted; and Byron and Burns, and Homer and Virgil
shall be referred to with classic elegance; but a quotation from
the Bible shall show that with whatever other learning the
orator may be endowed, his familiarity has not been with the
inspired records of the religion of his country; and the words of
David, Isaiah, and Paul, and even of the Redeemer, shall be
miserably mangled, and made almost unintelligible.  Many a
young man now entering on life will yet be placed in circumstances where it will be discreditable to him not to be acquainted
with the Bible. No one can be placed in circumstances where
that knowledge would be disreputable or injurious.
There is one other thought under this head. It is this:-The
Bible has gone deeply into our institutions, customs, and laws,
and no one can understand the history of this country who does
not understand the Bible. It has made us, directly or indirectly,
what we are.  Our own ancestors, in our father-land, once were
wild barbarians, and sacrificed human beings to idols. The
oaken groves of England witnessed many a Druid superstition;
many a now well-cultivated spot in that land was a place where
men, woven in wicker-work, were consumed as an offering to the
gods! I need not say that the change in that country front
what it was to what it is, was brought about by the influence
of the religion which is taught in the Bible.'That religion
banished superstition and idolatry; raised Christian temples
in the places where stood the groves of the Druids; introduced
civilization, intelligence, and social order; made immortal Alfred
what he was; laid the foundations of Cambridge and of Oxford;
and moulded the literature and the laws of our ancestors.




THE BIBLE.                           9
Still more directly has it gone into our own institutions.
We have derived our origin in great part from the Puritans, a
people to whom Hume said was to be traced whatever of civil
liberty there was in England.  I need not recall any of the
events of our early history.  I need only remind you that with
the Puritan, the axe was not a more needful or inseparable
companion than the Bible. It went with him  into the deep
forest; comforted him  when the war-whoop  of the savage
sounded in his ears; prompted him  to build the churLch, the
school-house, and the college; entered into his literature, and
constituted his laws; was the foundation of his civil rights, and
the platform  of his views of government.  It contained the
lessons which he taught to his children; and his parting counsel
to them, when he lay on a bed of death, was, that they should
always love it. Phidias so wrought his own name into the
shield of the statue of Minerva at Athens, that it could not be
removed without destroying the statue.  So the precepts and
truths of the Bible have been inwrought into all our institutions.
They are not interwoven-as if they were separate warp and
woof.  They are not laid on —as plates of gold may be on a
carved image.  They are fasecd in-intermingled — and run
together-as the gold and silver and brass of Corinth were in
the great fire which burnt down its statues of silver and gold
and brass-forming the much-valued compound of antiquity,
the Corinthian brass. They cannot be separated; and it is too
late to trace their independent proportions and influence.  TWe
have no institutions, no laws, no social habits, that are worth
anything, and no learning, no literature of any kind, no liberty,
which have not been moulded and modified by the Bible. No
man can write our history who is a stranger to the Bible; and
you will NEVER understand it, if you are ignorant of that Book.
The man who enters on public life ignorant of the influence of
this book in our history, is liable to perpetual mistakes and
blunders in regard to the institutions of his own country.  Ito
will perpetually come in contact with opinions and habits which
he cannot understand.  He will never be acquainted with the
public mind in this nation.  He will be mistaken in regard to
the course which the popular feeling will take on any subject.
He will run counter to what he will esteem mere prejudice, but
what in fact is conscience; and he will suppose that he meets
mere popular feeling, when he encounters that which enters
into every principle of our liberty.  There is nothing on which
foreigners who come among us are more liable to misunderstand
us than on this point; and nothing which to them appears more




10               THE WAY OF SALVATION.
inexplicable than that religion is propagated and maintained by
voluntary efforts, and without an alliance with the State. The
secret of the whole is, the hold which the Bible has on the
public mind, and the fact that that Book is allowed to influence
so extensively the opinions, the laws, and the customs of the
land. It is now in almost every family, and we intend it shall
be in every family.  It is read every day by millions; and
hundreds of thousands of children and youth are taught every
week in the Sabbath-school to reverence it.  A great National
Society is in existence whose business it is to see that that Book
is placed and kept in every family in the land; and though the
press teems with novels, and romances, and poems, and books of
science, yet the book that is most frequently printed, and on
which the art of the printer and the binder is most abundantly
lavished still, as a private enterprise, is the Bible.  And in
reference to our own most interesting history as a people, and
to the nature of our institutions, civil and religious, as well as in
reference to all the past, the Bible is the only certain " lamp
unto our feet, and light unto our path."
III. A third consideration is, that the Bible has such evicdences
of Divine origin as to claim your attention.  I do not assume
that it is given by inspiration-for my purpose now does not
require this, nor am I about to detain you with any proofs on
that point.  But I would show you that there are such presumptive proofs of its being a revelation from God, as to demand study
and inquiry; such that it is ill-becoming the young man, or any
man, to neglect it; and such that to reject it without examination, is no mark of an elevated understanding, or of true manliness
of sentiment.  The considerations which I would suggest under
this head are these:(1.) The friends of the Bible have been among the most sober,
calm, and thoughtful of mankind.  They have been such men as
are accustomed to look at evidence, and to weigh arguments
before they embrace them. That some of its neglectors and
adversaries have had this character I have'no occasion to deny;
but that the mass of them  have been of this stamp no one will
venture to affirm. But a book which has commended itself to
the faith of millions of thinking and intelligent men as of Divine
origin, is not to be treated with contempt, or rejected without a
hearing. No man recommends his own intelligence or wisdom
by a contemptuous rejection of such a book.
(2.) Again, a considerable part of those who have embraced
the Bible as of Divine origin, have done it as the result of
examination.  I admit that all have not done it from this cause.




THE BIBLE.                        I 
Many have been trained up in its belief, and have never doubted
of its Divine origin; but a considerable portion even of this class,
when they have arrived at mature age, have instituted an
examination on the subject, and have satisfied their own minds
that it is from God. But many an hereditary infidel has yielded
his opposition to the Bible by the force of evidence, and embraced it as true; many a scoffer has become a believer by the
force of the argument, and admitted that it was from  God.
Meantime all its friends, whether hereditary friends-if I may so
call them-or the friends made such by argument, have been
willing to submit the evidence of the Divine origin of the Scriptures to the sober reason of mankind. They have asked them to
examine the question. They hold themselves ready at anymoment
to give the book to any man who will examine it. They invite
discussion, and they always consider it a point gained, and a
very probable indication of the conversion of an infidel, if he can
from any motive be induced to examine the Divine origin of the
Scriptures. And so scoffers and infidels feel when one of their
own number is induced, from any cause, to read the Bible. From
the moment when he takes the book in his hands, they regard
his conversion to Christianity as more than half certain. They
anticipate, almost as a matter of course, that if he is led to
investigate this question he is lost to their cause. And so all feel.
Many a man is deterred from  reading the Bible, and from
examining its claims, under a belief that, if he does it, he will
become a Christian. Yet what a state of mind is this! And
what a tribute is thus unwittingly paid to the Bible! And how
clear is it, that,if this be the case, the Bible has such evidence
of a Divine origin as to demand your attention!
(3.) Again, its effects on the world are such as to show that
it has sufficient claims to a Divine origin to demand attention.
As a mere matter of curiosity, if there were no better motive,
one would suppose that an interest would be felt in the Book
which displaced the ancient systems of philosophy; which changed
the whole form of religion in the Roman empire-overturning
altars, closing temples, disrobing priests, and revolutionizing
laws; which abolished slavery in all the ancient world; which
has elevated the female sex from  the deepest degradation;
which has everywhere been the promoter of good morals; which
banished the barbarous sports of the amphitheatre; which has
led to the foundation of colleges, and the erection of hospitals,
and the diffusion of universal education; which has curbed the
tiger-passions of many a man, and made him like a lamb; and
which has transformed the intemperate, the licentious, and the




12              THE WAY OF SALVATION.
profane, in millions of instances, and made them pure and holy
men. Now a book which can do this has such claims of a Divine
origin as to demand attention, and to be worthy of perusal.
(4.) And again, the class of men whom it has satisfied of its
Divine origin is such as to show the same thing. They have
been, in many instances, men most eminent in all departments
of science and learning, and who stand, by common consent, at
the head of the race. I need not tell you who they are. In our
most rich English literature there is scarcely a man of eminence
who has not bowed to the authority of the sacred Scriptures.
Who, in teaching the laws of morals, was superior to Johnson?
Who better understood the beauties of the English tongue than
Addison? Who was a sweeter poet than Cowper P Who more
majestic and grand than Milton P  Who has controlled more
human minds by stating its laws than Locke?  Who has seen
farther into the distant heavens than Newton? What individual
of our race is by common consent at the head of any department
of learning, who has not acknowledged the Divine authority of
the Bible P I by no means say that this proves that it is of
Divine origin. I say only, that it demonstrates that there are
claims to such an origin which demand examination. I add one
other thought under this head(5.) That the same thing is shown by the fact that the Bible
has outlived all the attacks which have been made on it, and
has nearly or quite weathered out the storm of conflict. It was
penned in a remote age; in a little corner of the world; among
a people without science, and without any other literature;
when the rules of poetry and history were unwritten, and when
the human mind was comparatively in its infancy. That a book
so written, and with such pretensions, should be attacked was
not wonderful. Accordingly, every science, I believe, has been
made the occasion of an assault on the Bible. Astronomy, and
history, and antiquities, and geology, and chemistry, all have
had their turn; and all have in their turn alarmed the friends
of revelation. But the war from  these quarters has nearly
ceased to rage. Every gun has been spiked, or turned on the
foe-except in the matter of geology-and the friends of revelation may safely leave that until the geologist will tell us
precisely what his own settled opinion is. In the year 1806 the
French Institute counted more than eighty theories in geology
hostile to the Scripture history, not one of which has lived to
the present time (Lyell). The argument from  astronomy was
demolished by Chalmers. The argument from the high antiquity
of the sacred books, and the history of India, has been abandoned




THE BIBLE.                        13
by infidels themselves. Point after point has been yielded, and
the Bible still lives; and it advances in its power over the human
mind just as science advances, and at the moment when I am
writing has a control over the intellect of the world which it
never had before. It will have a greater control to-morrow;
and will continue to extend its empire to the end of time. It is
speaking now in an hundred and fifty languages more than it
was fifty years ago, and there is nothing more fixed pertaining
to the future than that the period is not distant when it will
speak in all the languages of the world. It is destined to be
the book which shall ultimately model the laws, and direct the
worship of the race; the book which is to displace the Koran,
the Zendavesta, and the Vedas; and the book which is to be
found in every living language when the great globe shall dissolve. Now I do not say that this proves that the Bible has a
Divine origin. I say only, that it demonstrates that such a
book is not to be treated with contempt, that it has sufficient claims
to a Divine origin to demand perusal and study. He gives no
evidence of extraordinary talent or independence who can
neglect or despise such a book; he who studies it is at least
associated in one thing with the minds that have done the most
to honour our race, and who have secured the widest respect
among mankind. And in reference to the whole range of
investigations that come before the human mind, to the actual
developments of the human powers, and to the changes that
have occurred on earth, and to all our inquiries respecting the
future, as well as in reference to the past history of nations, and
to our own history as a people, it may be found to be true that
the Bible is the only certain " lamp unto our feet, and light unto
our path."
IV. The fourth consideration which I urge is, that the Bible
reveals a way of salvation-a method by which a sinner may
be conducted to happiness and to heaven. I here mean only to
state this-not to attempt to prove it. Nor is it necessary for
my purpose now to prove it. All that my purpose demands is
to bring the fact to your notice, and to state that such a plan is
revealed, and in such circumstances as to demand your attention.
That it professes to reveal a way by which a man may be saved,
no one can doubt;-for this is the leading design of the book.
That it is a simple and intelligible way, is demonstrated by the
fact that it has been embraced by millions of our race who
had no special claims to superior intellectual endowments, and
no superior attainments in science. That it is a safe way has
been demonstrated, as far as such a fact could be, by its sustaining




14              THE WAAY OF SALVATION.
power in those circumstances which most certainly test the
truth and value of our principles-the circumstances which attend
our departure from the world. But while commending itself to
minds in humble walks, and in the lowly condition of life, it has
also so commended itself to minds most elevated and cultivated;
has so met their wants, and so imparted peace, and so sustained
them in the day of trial, as to show that it has a claim on the
attention of all mankind. To such minds it has commended
itself as simple, satisfactory, and rational; as adapted to the
condition of fallen man, and as imparting the true peace, for
which a soul conscious of guilt seeks. It claims, too, to reveal
the only way by which a sinner can be saved, and urges this on
the attention of the race by all its proofs of its being a communication from heaven-by its miracles, and its prophecies, and
its purity of doctrine, and its elevated rules of morality, and its
influence on mankind.  He is not, he cannot be wise, who
turns away from a book that comes with such evidence of a
heavenly origin as the Bible has, and that has satisfied so many
minds of its truth.  He is not, he cannot be wise, who in
such circumstances refuses to examine the claims of a book
that professes to disclose the only method by which man can
be saved.
V. The fifth and last consideration which I shall suggest is,
that the Bible is a book whose consolations and counsels you
will need on a bed of death. Instead of detaining you with an
argument on this point, I will just advert to one fact which will
have more weight with many whom  I address than anything
which I can say; and with this I shall close this discourse. A
few days before the death of Sir Walter Scott, there was a lucid
interval of that distressing malady which had for some time
afflicted him, and to remove which he had travelled in vain to
London, to Italy, and to Malta. He was again in his own
home. In one of these calm moments of reason, " gentle as an
infant," says his biographer, when the distressing aberrations of
his mind had for a time ceased, he desired to be drawn into his
library, and placed by the window, that he might look down
upon the Tweed. To his son-in-law he expressed a wish that
he should read to him. " From what book shall I read?" said
he. "Can you ask?" Scott replied; "THERE IS BUT ONE."9
"I chose," says his biographer, "the fourteenth chapter of St.
John's Gospel. He listened with mild devotion, and said when
I had done, Well, this is a great comfort; I have followed you
distinctly, and I feel as if I were yet to be myself again" (Life
of Scott, vi. 288). I need not enlarge on the dying testimony of




THE BIBLE.                        15
this eminent man in favour of the Bible. On the bed of death,
"there Is but one" book that can meet the case. Not his own
beautiful poems; not his own enchanting works of fiction, were
his comforters there. He had come to a point where fiction
gave way to reality; and we can conceive of scarcely any scene
of higher sublimity than was thus evinced, when a mind that
had charmed so many other minds, the most popular writer of
his age, if not of any age, in the solemn hour when life was
about to close, gave this voluntary tribute to the solitary
eminence of the Bible above all other books. ~Would that his
dying declaration could be imprinted on the title-page of all his
works-that wherever they shall be read, his solemn testimony
might go with them, that a time is coming when BUT ONE BOOK
can have claims on the attention of men, and BUT ONE BOOK
will be adapted to guide their steps and to comfort their hearts!
May I suggest to the readers of novels and romances that the
time is coming when, one after another, these books will be laid
aside; when the romance of life will be exchanged for the sober
reality of death; and when the most gorgeous and splendid
illusions of this world will give place to the contemplation of
the realities of that everlasting scene which opens beyond the
grave. Then you will need, not fiction, but truth; not gorgeous
description, not the enchanting narrative, not the wizard illusions
of the master mind that can play upon the feelings and entrance
the heart; but the word-the eternal word of that God who cannot lie, and the sweet consolations of that "ONE BOOK" whose
beauties, after all, as much transcend the highest creations of
genius as its truths are more valuable than fiction. We may
live amidst gorgeous scenes; amidst splendid illusions; amidst
changing clouds; amidst vapours that float on the air, and then
vanish; but when we die we shall wish to plant our feet, not
on evanescent vapours and changing though brilliant clouds, but
on the Eternal Rock;-a position which shall be firm when the
rains descend, and the floods come, and the winds blow (Matt.
vii. 25). And in reference to that dark valley which we must all
soon tread-that valley that appears so chilly and dismal to
man-along which no one has returned to be our conductor and
guide, whatever may be said of the value of the Bible in regard
to the past history of our race, or our own history in particular,
or the various inquiries which have come before the human
mind-it is indubitably then to be the only certain " lamp unto
our feet, and light unto our path."
Let me, in conclusion, ask of each one individually, Is there
force enough in my argument to induce you to read the Bible?




16             TIHE WAY OF SALVATION.
If there is, let it be done. I ask you not to lay aside your
Homer, your Cowper, your Dryden, your Milton. I ask you not
to burn your Addison, your Johnson, or your Burke. I ask you
not to throw away your Galen, or your Davy-your Coke, or
your Hale; but I ask you to give THE SUPREME PLACE in your
life to that ONE BOOK which the greatest of all writers of fiction
gave on the approach of death-to THE BIBLEo




SERMON II.
THE OBSCURITIES OF DIVINE REVELATION.
PSALM xliii. 3.-" 0 send out thy light and thy truth: let them lead me;
let them bring me unto thy holy hill, and to thy tabernacles."
PSALM xxxvi. 9.-"For with thee is the fountain of life: in thy light
shall we see light."
PERHAPS no one ever studied the Bible as a professed revelation
from God who has not had such questions cross his mind as the
following: —Why is there so much in this book that is obscure
and unintelligible    Why is not more information given on
great and important questions about which the human mind
has always been perplexed    Why is no more light thrown
on the subject of moral government; on the question why sin
and misery were allowed to enter the world; on the nature of
the happiness of heaven; on the reasons why the wicked are
to suffer for ever? Why are so many subjects left in total
darkness in a professed revelation, and others left with only
such a feeble glimmering of light as almost to make us wish
that there had been none?
These questions produce increased perplexity and embarrassment when such thoughts as the following occur, as they will
be very likely to do, in connexion with them:-First, it
seems that it would have been so easy for God to have removed
all difficulty on many or all of these subjects. There can be
no darkness or obscurity with Him in relation to them, and he
could readily have taken away all our perplexity by a simple
explanation, almost by a single " stroke of the pen." Secondly,
such an explanation seems to have been demanded in order to clear
up his own character and dealings. There are many dark things
about his government; many things which give occasion to hard
thoughts, to aspersions, and to reflections on his character, which
his friends cannot meet, and to difficulties which they cannot
solve; and, instead of removing all these, he has so left the
matter as to perplex the good, and to give occasion for the
unanswered reproaches of the evil, when a simple explanation




18              THE WAY OF SALVATION.
might have saved the whole difficulty.  Thirdly, such an explanation seemed to be demanded as an act of benevolence on
his part, in order to remove perplexity and distress from the
human mind, even if he was willing that his own character
and the principles of his government should rest under a cloud.
Man by nature is in darkness. He is perplexed and embarrassed
with his condition and prospects.  He struggles in vain to
obtain relief by the unassisted efforts of his own mind. A
revelation is proposed; but on the most important and perplexing
of his difficulties it seems only to tantalize him, and to leave
him as much in the dark as he was before. And, fourthly,
all this difficulty is increased when he reflects how much of
this same book is occupied with histories which have lost their
interest; with names and genealogical tables now of little or
no value; with laws pertaining to rites and ceremonies long
since obsolete, and always apparently pertaining to trifling
subjects; and with narratives often of apparently little dignity,
and of slight importance. The thought will cross the mind,
Why were not those portions of the book occupied with statements which would have been of permanent value to man?
Why, instead of these, did not God cause to be inserted there
important explanations respecting his own character and government; the condition of the heavenly world; the reasons why
sin and woe came into the system; and why the wicked must
be punished for ever? Disappointed, and troubled, and half
feeling that he is trifled with, many an inquirer after truth is
tempted to throw the book aside, and never to open it again
with the hope of finding an answer to the questions which most
deeply agitate his soul.
These are bold questions which man asks, but they will come
into the mind, and it is important to meet them, and to calm
down the spirit which would ask them, if we can. To obtain
a rational view of this matter, there are two inquiries:1. What is the measure of light actually imparted in the
Bible? and,
II. Why is there no more?
In the answer which may be given to these two inquiries, we
may find something, perhaps, to soothe the feelings and calm
the mind, in reference to the perplexities referred to.
I. The first inquiry is, What is the measure of light actually
imparted in the Bible P I do not, of course, intend to go into
detail here-for this would involve an enumeration of all the
points embraced in the system  of Christian theology,-but I
purpose only to suggest the principles, if I may be allowed the




OBSCURITIES OF DIVINE REVELATION.                19
expression, which guided the Divine Mind in giving a revelation
to man. It is evident that in giving such a revelation, the
question must have occurred, whether light should be imparted
on these points referred to; whether all should be communicated that could be; whether care should be taken to explain
every question that might ever arise in the human mind;
whether the whole subject of moral government should be
unfolded, or whether some other rule should be adopted, and
some other object should be aimed at. Now, the principles
which seem to have guided the Divine Mind, admitting for the
time that the Bible is a revelation from God, so far as we can
judge from  the manner in which the revelation was actually
given, are the following:(1.) First, to leave many subjects, and among them some of
those on which the mind is most inquisitive, perfectly in the
dark. It was intended that not a ray of light should be shed
on them; that there should be nothing which could constitute
a basis of even a plausible conjecture. It was clearly the design
of God to fix an outer limit to human knowledge so far as this
world is concerned, in reference to those points, and to leave
the race totally and designedly in the dark. This principle is
involved in the declaration, "Secret things belong to the Lord
your God, but things that are revealed to you and your
children."
A few remarks in relation to this outer limit, or this boundary,
will apply equally to reason and revelation; and while they
may do something as an explanation of the general principles
of the Divine proceedings, they may, at the same time, do
something to reconcile us to the fact that it is found in a book
of professed revelation.
(a)  There is a  limit to the human faculties-a point
beyond which man, in this world, cannot go in inquiring into
the various questions which may occur. That point may not
yet have been reached on any one subject; but clearly there is
such a point, beyond which all is dark. Occasionally a bright
genius arises-some one endowed with almost superhuman
powers-who seems to secure, almost by intuition, all that
man had before discovered, and who is prepared, at the beginning of his own career, to start where others left off, and to
penetrate the deep profound where mortals never before have
trod-to open the eyes on new regions of thought, and new
worlds of matter; but even he soon comes to the outer limit
of the human powers, and will always feel, as Newton did at
the close of his life, that the great ocean of truth is still unex



20               THE WAY OF SALVATION.
plored. "I do not know," said he, " what I may appear to the
world; but to myself I seem to have been only like a boy playing on the sea-shore, and diverting myself in now and then
finding a smoother pebble or a prettier shell than ordinary,
while the great ocean of truth lay all undiscovered before me." *
Whatever may be the attainments which man may make in
the general progress of society, and whatever light may be shed
on objects before obscure by the few men of transcendant genius
whom God raises up from age to age, there is an outer limit to
all such progress-a point beyond which all is involved in
Cimmerian darkness.  The ancients, in their ignorance of the
true structure of the world, supposed that the earth was surrounded by interminable seas, and that whosoever should venture
out in a right line from  the land would soon enter regions
deepening in darkness, till not a ray of light should be visible;
and they feigned one such voyage, in which the mariner stood
boldly for the west, until, terrified and affrighted by the increasing darkness, he turned the prow of his vessel, and sought
again his native shores.  What to them  pertaining to the
structure of the earth was fable, is true on the point before us
in regard to higher subjects.  There is an outer limit beyond
which there is no light. We cannot penetrate it. We have no
faculties, as men ordinarily are made, to penetrate it; and no
genius arises so superior to the ordinary human endowments
as to be able to carry the torch of discovery into those unexplored regions.
(b) In like manner, as in regard to our natural faculties, so
it was clearly the design of God that there should be many
subjects on which not a ray of light should be thrown by
revelation.  There are many points on which no statement is
made; on which no hint is given that would relieve the anxiety
of a troubled mind. Far on the hither side of what we would
like to know, the line is drawn, and the whole book is closed
at what may, without irreverence, be called-or which, whether
irreverent or not, expresses our natural feelings —   provoking
point, just at the point where we would be glad to ask questions,
and where we by no means feel our minds satisfied with what
we possess.
(c) As a matter of fact, therefore, whatever conclusions may
be drawn from it, there is a great variety of subjects, many of
them of great interest to the human mind, which are left totally
in the darl, and on which the utmost efforts of ingenuity,'* Brewster's Life of Newton, pp. 300, 301.




OBSCURITIES OF DIVINE REVELATION.                  21
employed il endeavouring to make the Bible speak out, have
been utterly ineffectual. The silence of the Bible is, in this
respect, somewhat like the silence of the dead about their condition, and about the future world. If they live, why do they
not return?  Why do they not come and tell us what it is to
die P-whither man goes when he dies? —and whether they are
happy or not, and how we may be?  Why do they keep their
countenances so fixed and grave; and why do the lips once so
ready to impart knowledge now keep themselves so close on
the very points on which we would be glad to have them speak?
As a believer in revelation, and a friend of it, I am constrained,
therefore, to admit that there are many important points on
which not a ray of light is shed. I am, for one, willing to
concede that among these points are the questions why moral
evil was admitted into the system; why misery ever found its
way into the empire of an infinitely benevolent and almighty
Creator and moral Governor; and why the period will never
arrive when sin and woe shall everywhere come to an end.
On these, and on many kindred topics of great interest to man,
I confess I have never seen a ray of light cast by any human
speculation; and that though I have been silenced, I have not
been convinced. Other men think they see light here; I see none.
Just here, however, one remark should be made, to guard
this observation from abuse. It is, that as we cannot allow the
darkness attending the subject of moral evil to disprove the fact
that it exists —for no one can dispute the fact-we should not
allow the darkness in relation to future punishment, even though
it should be eternal, to lead us to doubt or deny that fact.  Our
ignorance in the one case does not disprove the fact-how can
it in the other?
(2.) A second principle on which revelation seems to have
been given, similar to the one just mentioned, is, to state nothing
merely to gratify curiosity. In the large book which constitutes
what we call the Bible, embracing as it does a vast variety of
histories, of apophthegms, of laws, of parables, of proverbs, of
poetry, of eloquent appeals, it would be difficult, if not impossible, to fix the attention on a single thing that seems to have
been revealed merely to gratify curiosity, or which would not
have been recorded in the  absence of such  design.  It was
remarkable, in particular, how steadily the Saviour refused to
gratify this spirit, or to answer questions based on this, when
it would have been so easy to have responded to the questions
proposed.  I say " so easy to have responded to them," for, on
the supposition that he was what he claimed to be, and had




722              THE WAY OF SALVATION.
actually come down from  heaven, the information which was
asked could have been readily given; and on the supposition
of the infidel that he was an impostor, nothing would have
been more easy than to give some answer-since no one could
prove that it was wrong; and I may add, that nothing would
have been more unnatural than that, with that assumed character, he should have attempted no answer.  But he never attempted it-never gratified such an inquiry. Thus, when he was
asked, "Lord, are there few that be saved?" he gave no hint
to gratify the spirit of curiosity, but directed those who propounded the question to " strive to enter in at the strait gate."
When the mother of James and John came to him  requesting
that her two sons might sit the one on his right hand and the
other on his left hand in his kingdom, he said " it was not his
to give, except for those for whom it had been prepared by his
Father."  When, after his resurrection, he was asked by his
disciples whether he " would at that time restore the kingdom
to Israel?" he said it was " not for them  to know the times
or the seasons, which the Father had put in his own power."
Thus Paul also, in the most explicit manner (Col. ii. 18), condemns
those deceivers, one of the characteristics of whose teaching was,
that they "i intruded into those things which they had not seen."
And so throughout the Bible, nothing seems to be done merely
to gratify curiosity. If we go to it to learn what is duty; to
obtain principles of conduct to guide us; to discover some
promise that shall support us in temptation and trouble; to
learn in what way we may acceptably worship our Maker; to
know what we should do in the relations of husbands and wives,
of parents and children, and of masters and servants; to ascertain what we should do for the poor, the ignorant, the prisoner,
the oppressed; to learn what we must do to be saved, we never
consult the oracle in vain.  If we go with a question of mere
curiosity; with a desire to obtain some response that shall be
of no practical advantage, that shall flatter our self-esteem, or
inflate us with a vain conceit of knowledge, we are sure to
return with not even the respect that would be involved in the
most ambiguous and unmeaning response that was ever uttered
at Delphi.
(3.) The third and vital principle, therefore, that seems to
have directed the Divine AMind in giving a revelation was, to
firnish knowledge enough to be a safe guide to heaven.  The
principle seems to have been to give us so much information
lthat we may learn the way of life if we will, and so as to keep
the mind in a healthful exercise in investigating truth.  It is




OBSCUISiTIES OF DIVINE liEVELATION.                 23
never forgotten that we are moral agents; that we have powers
to be disciplined and cultivated; and that our grand business
here is not to gratify our curiosity, but to secure our salvation.
Would not all the essential purposes of a revelation be answered
if it would enable us to secure the salvation of our souls?
Should it be a serious objection to it, if, while it did this, it did
not also cast light on a thousand other points, however interesting and important they might be?  And should we reject it
and spurn it because there are many things which it leaves in
the dark —many questions which are unanswered?  Revelation
to us is not like the broad and clear sun that sheds down its
rays on the spread-out landscape covered with smiling fields,
and flocks, and hamlets; disclosing each tree, and hill, and
house, and the winding course of each rivulet:-it is, to use
an illustration suggested by another, like the lighthouse that
gleams on a dark and stormy coast to reveal the haven to the
ocean-tossed mariner.  " It shines afar over the stormy ocean,
only penetrating a darkness which it never was intended to
expel."  The mariner can see that light clearly.  It guides him.
It cheers him when the tempest beats around him, and when
the waves roll high.  It shows him  where the port is. It
assures him  that if lie reaches that spot lie is safe. It is all
that he wants from  that shore now, amid the darkness of the
night, to guide him.  True, it is not a sun; it does not dissipate
all the darkness; "it is a mere star, showing nothing but itself
-perhaps not even its own reflection on the water."  But it
is enough.  There it stands, despite the storm and the darkness,
to tell the mariner just what he wishes to know, and no more.
It has saved many a richly-freighted bark, and all that he needs
is that it will save his own. It tells him there is a haven there,
though it leaves him  all uninformed about everything  else.
Beyolnd the distance where it throws its beams, all is midnight.
On a thousand questions, on which curiosity might be excited,
it casts no lighft whatever.  " The cities, the towns, the green
fields, the thousand happy homes which spread along the shore
to which it invites him, it does not reveal."  On a calmer sea
curiosity would be glad to know all about the land on which
that light stands, and to anticipate the time when, safe from
danger, the feet might range over those fields " beyond the
swelling flood."  And so, too, " all is dark in reference to that
stormy expanse over which the mariner has sailed," and all
around him, as well as on the land to which he goes; but shall
he therefore reject the aid of that light because it discloses no
more?  Shall he refuse its assistance in guiding his vessel into
3




2-i              TTHE WAY OF SALVATION.
port because it does not disclose to him all that there is in that
land, or shed a flood of day on the heavens above him, and on
all that stormy ocean on which he is embarked?
So it is in respect to the Gospel. Man, too, is on a stormy
ocean-the ocean of life, and the night is very dark. There are
tempests that beat around us; under-currents that would drift
us into unknown seas; rocks that make our voyage perilous.
The Gospel is a light " standing on the dark shore of eternity,
just simply guiding us there."  It reveals to us almost nothing
of the land to which we go, but only the way to reach it. It
does nothing to answer the thousand questions which we would
ask about that world, but it tells how we may see it with our
own eyes. It does not tell us all about the past-the vast
ocean of eternity that rolled on countless ages before we had a
beginning; about the government of God; about our own
mysterious being; but it would guide us to God's " holy hill
and tabernacle," where in his "light we may see light;" and
where what is now obscure may become as clear as noonday.
If these are correct views, then it follows that the Bible, as
a revelation from  God, was not designed to give us all the
information which we might desire, nor to solve all the questions
about which the human mind is perplexed, but to impart enough
to be a safe guide to the haven of eternal rest.
II. Our second inquiry is, Why was no more light given?
"Why was no more done to dissipate the darkness on those
points on which we are now so much perplexed; to answer the
questions which we are so ready to ask, and which we feel it is
proper for us to ask?
It would be presumptuous to attempt to assign with certainty
the reasons which influenced the Divine Mind in adopting the
principles which have been suggested in making a revelation,
and all that is proper for man to attempt to do in the case is
to show that revelation is not liable to any well-founded objection on that account, and that, grateful for the light which has
been given us, we should not murmur because we have no more
-as the appropriate feeling of our mariner would be gratitude
that that bright and clear, though little light is kept burning
on that stormy coast to guide every vessel that may chance to
come into those waters, not of complaint that it does not reveal
the hills, and vales, and cities, and hamlets of that land.
In endeavouring, therefore, to show  you that this is the
appropriate state in which the mind should be, or to calm down
the murmurs that rise in our souls because God has told us no
more, I would submit the following remarks:



OBSCURIITIES OF DIVINE 11IEVELATION.               25
(1.) First, our essential condition on earth is one of CJisciplbn'?
and probation. But this supposes that, while there shall be
light and truth enough to make our condition scfe, if we choose
to have it so-that is, that it shall be a practicable thing to
secure our salvation-there shall be enough also to exercise our
powers in the best manner; to secure their most healthful
development; to determine whether we are disposed to exert
ourselves and to make inquiry; while there shall be enough in
reserve to furnish occupation for the mind ever onward. Now
it is certain that while many of the points suggested may
furnish material for inquiry and thought, and while in advancing
years in our own lives, or in the progress of society, light may
be thrown on many subjects which are now  dark, yet their
solution is not necessary to our salvation, and perhaps would
in no manner promote it. To recur once more to our illustration. Desirable as it might be, on many accounts, to know all
that there is in that land on which the light stands that is to
direct the mariner, yet the knowledge of that would not aid
him  in guiding his vessel into port.  That it was a land of
peace and plenty; that it was the place of his fathers' sepulchres;
that it was the home of his wife and children; that it opened
rich fields for commerce or scientific research, might indeed
stimulate and animate him  amidst the billows, as our hope of
heaven does in the storms that beat around us, but the most
minute acquaintance with that country would not materially
aid him in guiding his vessel into port.
Now, if we would search our own minds we should probably
find that the questions in reference to which we are most disposed
to complain because they are not solved, are not those which
really embarrass -us in the matter of salvation, or which, being
solved, would aid us, but those in reference to which our salvation may be equally safe and easy whether they are solved or
not.  When a man finds himself struggling in a stream, it does
nothing to facilitate his escape to know how he came there; nor
would it aid the matter if he could determine beyond a doubt
why God made streams so that men could ever fall into them,
and did not make every bank so that it would not crumble
beneath the feet
In the condition of man, therefore, regarded as in a state of
discipline and probation, all that seems really to be demanded
is, first, to furnish so much light in regard to the future that
the salvation of the soul shall not necessarily be endangeredas in the case of our lighthouse; and, secondly, to bring before
it so many unsolved, but important questions, as to furnish a




26               THE WAY OF SALVATION.
healthful exercise of its powers:-to place the mind in such a
state that there may be progress, but not exhaustion; to leave
to the soul the stimulus derived fiom the fact that there are
boundless fields of thought and inquiry before it, not to leave
it to the imbecility and inaction resulting from the fact that
all has been explored, and that there are no new discoveries to
be made, as Alexander is said to have sat down and wept
because there were no other worlds to be conquered.
Accordingly, this is the way in which God everywhere deals
with the human powers.  Youth is stimulated to make attainments in literature and science because there are vast fields
yet unexplored, and to a noble mind it is all the better if not a
ray of light has ever been shed upon them; nor would a generousminded youth thank even his Maker to stop the career of noble
thought and the path of discovery by pouring down a flood of
light on all those regions, so that no more was left for the efforts
of honourable ambition.  The explorer of unknown lands is
cheered because a vast and inviting field is before him  which
the foot of man has never trod; and as he passes on in his
obstructed way through fields of flowers new to the eye of man,
and ascends streams on which man has never glided, and climbs
the mountain top on which a human being  ever before stood,
and looks abroad on rich valleys that still invite him, he is
cheered and excited by the fact that all this has been unknown;
nor would he thank even his Maker to disclose all this at once
to the world, and bid him sink down to supineness and inaction.
It was this which  animated Columbus when his prow  first
crossed the line beyond which no ship had ever sailed, and
plunged into unknown seas.  Every wave that was thrown up
had a new interest and beauty from  the fact that its repose
had never been disturbed before by the keel of a vessel; and
when his eyes first saw the land, and he prostrated himself and
kissed the earth, his glory was at the highest, for he saw what
in all ages was unknown before.  So we are everywhere stimulated and animated by the unknown; by what is before us and
may be gained; by the fields of new thought which man has
never explored.  But for this, which  arises from  the very
nature of discipline, how flaccid and supine would be all our
powers! *
" Avia Pieridum peragro loca, nullius ante
Trita solo; juvat integros accedere fonteis;
Atque haurire-"
LUCRETIUS.




OBSCURITIES OF DIVINE RlEVELATION.                 27
And here, I will just say in this connexion, to those whose
minds are perplexed because God has revealed no more; to those
who find a thousand questions crowding upon them which they
cannot solve; and especially to those who are in the beginning
of their Christian way, in whose minds there rise sceptical, or
murmuring, or even blasphemous thoughts against God, and
around whom, on the most important subjects, there seem to
be the shades of the deepest midnight, that in a few years, as
the result of calm  examination and of maturer reflection and
observation, most of these difficulties will disappear.  Light
steals in gradually but certainly on a man's soul when he
" watches daily at the gates of wisdom, and waits at the posts
of her doors" (Prov. viii. 34), and not many years will elapse
when either these questions which are started in connexion with
revelation will be solved, or will take their place with those that
pertain not to the Bible peculiarly, but to the government of the
world as actually administered, and, therefore, are questions with
which the Christian is not peculiarly concerned.
" In the early part of my biblical studies, some thirty to thirtyfive years ago," says the most distinguished professor of biblical
learning in this country, " when I first began the critical investigation of the Scriptures, doubts and difficulties started up on every
side, like the armed men whom Cadmus is fabled to have raised
up.  Time, patience, continued study, a better acquaintance with
the original scriptural languages, and the countries where the
sacred books were written, have scattered to the winds nearly
all those doubts.  I meet, indeed," says he, "with difficulties
still, which I cannot solve at once, with some where even repeated efforts have not solved them.  But I quiet myself by
calling to mind that hosts of other difficulties, once apparently to
me as formidable as these, have been removed, and have disappeared from the circle of my troubled vision.  Why may I
not hope, then, as to the difficulties that remain?" *
(2.) The second thought which I suggest as a reason why no
more was imparted to man on these great questions is, that it is
not absolutely certain, it is not even probable, that we could
comprehend any statements which could be made on those points
which now perplex us.  "If I have told you earthly things,"
said the Saviour to Nicodemus, " and ye believe not, how shall
ye believe if I tell you of heavenly things?" (John iii. 12). If
one should undertake to explain to an ordinary child of four
years of age the views which governed Canning in some great
* Prof. Stuart on the Canon of the Old Testament, p. 18.




28               THE  WAY OF  ATNVATION.
act of diplomacy, or all the bearings of the positions assumed by
the different contracting powers at the peace of Tilsit, the difficulty would not be so much in the explanation, or in the thing
itself, as in the immature powers, the want of knowledge, the
feeble grasp of comprehension of the boy that he should seek
thus to instruct.  A few years may do wonders for that boy.
He may then possibly grasp these principles more clearly than
even Canning could, or might perhaps conduct a negotiation for
peace with more talent than either of the great powers of Russia,
France, or Prussia. The following specifications under this head
may do something further to explain this, and to relieve the
difficulty:(a) One is, that though up to a certain point-a point which
depends on the measure of our faculties, our age, and our attainments, a thing may be clear to us as the sunbeam, yet beyond
that it is impossible to convey any idea.  The mind is confused
and overpowered. It falters under the great and incomprehensible
subject, and no matter how much you may say with a view to
imparting instruction, not a new idea is conveyed to the soul.
Thus, for example, up to a certain extent, we comprehend what'
is meant by distances.  We know the length of the journey that
we have made; we have an idea of distances as measured on
the surface of the earth; we form a conception of what is the
distance from Philadelphia to London, or to Canton; we have a
faint conception of the distance of some of the planets from the
earth. But beyond that, though you may use figures and language, you convey no distinct idea.  When you speak of the
planet Herschel as one thousand eight hundred millions of miles
from the sun, and, still more, when you speak of the nearest
fixed star as certainly more than twenty billions of miles from
the earth, though you use words, and are capable of conducting
an investigation by the figures before you, you form no distinct
idea of so amazing a distance.  So it is of magnitude.  Up to a
certain point, all may be clear. The magnitude of a mountain,
or of the earth, or evei of the planet Jupiter, you may form
soime conception of; but what distinct conception have you of
the magnitude of the sun?  And what idea is conveyed when
you are told of one of the fixed stars, that it is fourteen millions
of times as large as our sun?  Still more, what conception have
you of the extent of the visible universe?  After a short distance in the description, you are lost, and there is no power that
could convey the great idea to a finite mind. So it is of velocity.
The fleet horse, the wind, the fast-sailing ship, the railroad car,
the bird, perhaps the earth in its orbit, we may conceive of in




OBSCURITIES OF DIVINE REVELATION.               29
regard to velocity; but what idea have you of the velocity of a
substance that flies at the rate of twelve millions of miles every
minute, like light?  So of heat.  Of melted iron, or burning
lava, you may form some conception; but what idea is conveyed
to the mind, when you are told of the comet that approaches so
near to the sun, that it is several thousand times hotter than
red-hot iron? Men may indeed use words on such subjects, and
they may be founded in truth, bult they convey no idea to the
human soul.
Now, how do you know but that it may be so on those great
subjects which pertain to the moral government of God that
give you so much trouble?  You understand something-but
after all how little-of the government of a family or a school;
you may have a clear idea of the principles which regulate civil
government in its ordinary administration; perhaps you might
embrace some of the views that would influence such a mind as
that of Metternich; but are you certain that you could comprehend the high principles of the Divine administration, even
if they were stated to you? Do you believe that the views of
Metternich could be understood ordinarily by a boy of four
years old; or that any statements on the subject would convey
any clear conceptions to his mind, or that the perplexities which
might arise in contemplating those complicated views of government and diplomacy could be made clear to such a mind? And,
"Canst thou by searching find out God? canst thou find out the
Almighty unto perfection? It is as high as heaven; what canst
thou do? deeper than hell; what canst thou know?  The
measure thereof is longer than the earth, and broader than the
sea," Job xi. 7-9.
(b) Again, reflect how little of the future and the unseen can
be known by description; how faint and imperfect a view you
can get of anything by a mere statement; how little you know
of a landscape, a waterfall, a picture, by any description that
can be given. Especially must this be so of objects which have no
resemblance to anything that we have seen. Who ever obtained
any idea of Niagara by a description? Who, say to the most
polished Greek and Roman mind, could have conveyed by mere
description any idea of the printing-press, of a locomotive engine,
of the magnetic telegraph?  Who could convey to one born
blind an idea of the prismatic colours; or to the deaf an idea of
sounds? And when you think how meagre in the Bible is the
description of heaven; when you think how easy it would have
been to furnish a more minute explanation, are you certain that
human language could have communicated to you the great and




30'THE IW.AY OF SALVATION.
bright conception; or that, if words could have been found, they
would have conveyed to you any exact idea of a state so different
from what is our condition here? If the comparison is not too
low, may we not for a moment suppose the gay and gilded
butterfly that plays in the sunbeam, endued with the power of
imparting ideas; but to its companions of yesterday-low and
grovelling worms-could any adequate idea be furnished of that
new condition of being into which the chrysalis had emerged?
I have spoken of what grows necessarily out of the fact that
we are in a state of discipline as regulating revelation, and of
the difficulty of conveying any ideas to the human mind beyond
a certain point. I add
(3.) A third' thought. It is, that we are in the very infancy
of our being; that we have but just opened our eyes upon this
wonderful universe, which in its structure demanded all the
wisdom, and goodness, and power of an infinite God! Very few
of us have lived through the period of seventy revolving suns;
a majority of us not fifty; many not twenty.  We have but just
learned to speak, to handle things, to talk, to walk. But yesterday we were at our mothers' breasts. We knew not anything.
We knew not that a candle would burn our finger if we put it
there. We knew not how to distinguish one sound from another,
nor whence any sound came. We knew not the use of the eye,
or ear, or hand, or foot. We knew not the name of one rock,
or plant, or human being-not even what is meant by father
and mother. We could neither walk, nor stand, nor creep. By
slow degrees we first learned to creep.  Then, sustained by the
hand of a parent, we began to stand. Then, assuming boldness,
to the delight of father and mother, we ventured off half a dozen
steps alone. We began to utter sounds that were kindly construed into language. We lisped, and hesitated, and then achieved
a great victory in mastering a few simple monosyllables.  Andc
now, forsooth, we wonder that we do not know all about God,
and these worlds, and the moral government of the Most High.
We sit in judgment on what our Maker has told us. We complain that anything is left dark.  We murmur that we do not
know why he permitted sin to come into his system; why he
allowed misery to enter his universe; why he does not check
and'remove it altogether.  We complain that he has not told us
all about heaven, and that there is even one subject to which
the human mind can apply itself that is not as clear as noonday.
We are sullen and silent; we repress our gratitude; we throw
back his Bible in his face; we have no songs and no thanksgivings, because we are not told all about this earth, and these




OBISCURiTI'i.lS OF ])IV'INE R.EVELATION.          31
skies-about heaven, and about hell, and about the God that
made, and that rules over all!
Hoping that these views may do something to calm  the
murmurs that rise up in our souls; to reconcile us to the manner
in which the book of revealed truth has been given; to make us
grateful for the measure of light which we have; to bear
without complaining the trials involved in mystery that are
brought upon us; and to lead us to look forward to the developments of the Divine government in future times and worlds, I
will now  close the consideration  of the  subject with  two
additional remarks.
(1.) First, in the view of our subject, we may be prepared to
see the beauty of the passages of Scripture which speak of
heaven as a world of light.  Standing in the midst of our darkness, in a world where there is so much mystery, where we see
so few things with any degree of clearness, we may learn to
irize more the descriptions of that world to which we go-the
declarations respecting heaven with which the sacred volume so
appropriately closes:-" And the city had no need of the sun,
neither of the moon, to shine in it: for the glory of God did
lighten it, and the Lamb is the light thereof.  And the nations
of them which are saved shall walk in the light of it,-and there
shall be no night there.-And there shall be no more curse: but
the throne of God and of the Lamb shall be in it; and his
servants shall serve him.-And they need no candle, neither
light of the sun; for the Lord God giveth them light: and they
shall reign for ever and ever," Rev. xxi. 23-25; xxii. 3-5.
In view, too, of such future light and glory, and in view of our
darkness now on a thousand subjects on which we pant to be
informed, how appropriate for man is the language of our text"   send out thy light and thy truth: let them lead me; let
them bring me unto thy holy hill and to thy tabernacles.  For
with thee is the fountain of life: in thy light shall we see light."
(2.) The second and last remark is, what a glorious career is
before the Christian.  All this darkness shall yet be dissipated;
all that is now obscure shall be made light. Destined to live
for ever and ever; capable of an eternal progression in knowledge; advancing to a world where all is light; soon to be
ushered into the splendours of that eternal abode where there is
no need of the light of the sun or the moon, and where there is
no night, we may well submit for a little time to the mysteries
which hang over the Divine dealings, and with exulting feelings
look onward. In a little time-a few week or days-by removal
to a higher sphere of being, we shall doubtless have made a




32               THIE WAY OF SALVATION.
progress in true knowledge, compared with which all that we
have gained since we left our cradles is a nameless trifle; and
then all that there is to be known in those worlds that shine
upon our path by day and night; all that is to be known in the
character of our Maker and the principles of his moral governmnent; all that is to be enjoyed in a world of glory without a
cloud and without a tear; all that is beatific in the friendship of
God the Father, of the ascended Redeemer, of the Sacred Spirit,
and of the angels; all that is blessed and pure in the goodly
fellowship of the apostles and martyrs; and all that is rapturous
in reunion with the spirits of those we loved on earth, and the
friendship of the "just made perfect," is before us. Let it be
dark, then, a little longer; let the storm  a little longer beat
around me, and the waves arise; let even the heavens be overcast so that I can see neither sun nor star, I will neither
murmur nor complain-for I see the light burn clearly that
stands on the shores of Eternity, and that invites and guides
me there.




SERMON III.
THE CLAIMS OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION.
1 PETER iii. 15.-" And be ready always to give an answer to every
man that asketh you a reason of the hope that is in you with meekness
and fear."
EVERY man has a moral right to ask me what reason I have to
hope for eternal life  for salvation is a matter of common
interest. He has as much concern in the question about future
happiness as I have, and if I have a well-founded hope of
heaven, he may also have such a hope. As he has a right to
ask this question, I am bound to give him  an answer. As one
cherishing such a hope, I ought to be able to state the grounds
of it; and as I may be presumed to have a benevolent regard
for the welfare of others, I ought to be willing to impart to
him  whatever knowledge I have on the subject: for if I have
knowledge of so great a truth as that there is a way by which
man may be happy for ever, I am not at liberty to withhold from
another what may be to him of so much value.
The inquiry which one might make of another respecting the
hope that is in him, might relate to two points.  It might be
either in regard to the hope which Christianity as a system
holds out to man; or to the hope which in particular he entertains of reaching heaven. This latter inquiry would involve so
much reference to personal feeling and experience that there
might be some delicacy and hesitancy in replying to it; and yet,
if proposed in a serious and candid manner, and with a sincere
desire to know what true religion is, a Christian would not feel
himself at liberty to withhold the information.  Such an answer
would be appropriate to a serious and anxious inquirer on the
subject of religion; the reply to the question in the other form
would be appropriate at all times.  The one is that which would
properly be stated in the free, confidential intercourse of friendship; the other is that which is appropriate to the public instructions of the pulpit or the press.
Whenever we come before you in any public manner, it is
in some way to set forth the claims of the Christian religion.




34                TIHE WAY OF SALVATION.
Eitler by illustrating detached portions of its doctrines and
duties, or by a formal argument in its defence, we seek to show
you that it has a claim upon each one of your hearts, and that
it furnishes a ground of hope for the life to come. It is not
improper, on some occasions, to consider ourselves as giving
a distinct answer to one who should make an inquiry of the
reason of the hope that is in us, or what there is in Christianity
which satisfies the mind that it is proper to cherish that hope.
Such a position I desire to regard myself as occupying at this
time, and I propose, therefore, to set forth the claims of the
gospel in this way.
This religion has been in the world, inspiring these hopes,
eighteen hundred years.  At this period of the world, and after
it has existed so long upon the earth, what is there to be seen
in the system  which makes it proper to cherish the hope of
eternal life based on its promises P  What is there, in the view
of an intelligent Christian, on which the system rests as justifying hope in his own case, and as furnishing an argument to be
used in addressing others to induce them to repose on it with
the same measure of confidence?
I suppose that a man who is not a Christian, if called upon
to give reasons why he is not, in the public manner in which I
am to show why I am, would arrange his thoughts under some
such heads as the following:-the deficiency of the evidence
of the Divine authority of the Bible; the ambiguity and uncertainty of the alleged prophecies, and the intrinsic difficulty in
believing in miracles; the difficulties in the Scriptures, and in
the doctrines which they have revealed; the fact that in the
pretended book of revealed truth there are many questions which
are unsolved; the bigotry, wars, persecutions, and wrongs to
which it would be said Christianity has given rise; the little
influence which it has on the lives of its professors, and the
general character of the church.-Thether these would be the
true reasons, or whether there are reasons lying back of these in
the state of the heart, is not of importance now to be considered.
All that I wish to say just here is, that it is not to be assumed
by the fiiends of Christianity that these reasons, as they might
be drawn out, have no force; and as little is it to be assumed
by its enemies that they who embrace the Christian system  do
not see their force, and are not capable of appreciating it. It
is a circumstance of some importance that not a few who are
Christians were once infidels themselves; and it is not fair to
assume that they have never looked at these arguments as attentively as other men.




CLAIMS OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION.                 35
Cecil, once himself an infidel of a most decided character,
after his conversion made this striking remark: " I have read,"
said he, "all the most acute, and learned, and serious infidel
writers, and have been really surprised at their poverty.  The
process of my mind has been such on the subject of revelation,
that I have often thought Satan has done more for me than for
the best of them; for I have had, and could have produced, arguments that appeared to me far more weighty than any I ever
found in them against revelation" (Life and Remains, p. lxxxix.)
"It is the registered saying of a man, eminent alike for talent
and piety, that he never found such strong arguments against the
Bible, in all writings of infidels, as had suggested themselves to
his own mind" (Melville, Sermons, vol. i. p. 276).
Without impropriety I may be permitted to say, that in my
investigations I have found things that have seemed to me to
have much greater strength against the truth of the Bible, and
that have given me much more perplexity than anything which
I have found in the books of infidel writers; and that now, if I
were to assume the position of an advocate of infidelity, I could
draw out an argument that would seem to me to have more
force than is found in any book that I could recommend to you.
If you will suffer these remarks to pass without an imputation
of vanity, I will proceed to state why, notwithstanding these
facts, a man may see reasons why he should be a Christian.
I will suggest several considerations, which together may perhaps
furnish an answer to both the aspects of the question referred
to in the beginning of this discourse.
I. The first is, because the Christian religion has such claims
of a Divine origin that theylMAY convince and sati;sfy the mind.
I do not mean here such as to compel the assent of the mind;
nor would I say such as to satisfy every mind in every state.
I mean such as may satisfy a mind in a healthful state; a mind
in the best condition for looking at evidence; a mind that shall
reason on the subject of religion as men reason on other things.
There is but one kind of evidence that compels assent-that
which is found in the pure mathematics, and that embraces but
a small part of the subjects that come before mankind. Inl
morals; in law; in medicine; in mental philosophy; in political
economy; in the mechanic arts; in history, we are content with
another kind of evidence-that which convinces, not compels.
The word convinces expresses the idea exactly-that which overcomes, or which gets a victory over difficulties and objections;
which subdues the opposition of the mind to the truth; which
furnishes evidence to remove the pre-existing reasons for doubt,




36                 THIE WAY OF SALVATION.
and which, as by a victory, secures the assent of the understanding.  Now religion, from the nature of the case, belongs to this
class of subjects; that is, it rests on the same basis on which
are placed most of the other great interests of mankind.
I suppose that it can hardly be deemed necessary for me to
attempt elaborately to prove the truth of my proposition-that
the Christian religion has such evidences of a Divine origin that
they may convince and satisfy the mind. If there is no inherent.impossibility in that, it would be fair to suppose, unless the
contrary can be shown, that this does occur, and that a man is
a Christian because his mind is thus satisfied, and that this is
the first reason which he would allege why he is a Christian.
Yet I have a few remarks to make in regard to this attitude
of the mind, viewed in its relation to the evidence of the Divine
origin of the Christian religion now after a period of one thousand eight hundred years.  They may be numbered in their
order, though it must be without illustration: (a) First, then,
as already shown, the mind may become convinced and satisfied.'This has been done in many millions of instances; this is now
constantly occurring in the world. There are now great numbers
of believers who have embraced Christianity only because they
are convinced of its truth-for there is no other motive to
explain this; and the arguments which have convinced them are
the same which have convinced the millions that have gone
before them.  (b) Secondly, the evidence in the case has stood
through the severest tests which could be applied; and Christianity exists now simply because the world cannot be convinced
that its claims are delusive and false. Whatever may be inferred
from this one way or the other, no'one can doubt that it lives,
and is carrying on its great movements among the nations,
because the attempts which have been made to satisfy mankind that it is an imposture have not been such as to convince
the world.  The severest tests have been applied to it that can
be-those derived from  reason, ridicule, contempt, power, persecution; and whatever else may befall it, he who is a Christian
rests in this certainty that his religion will never be removed
from  the world by reasoning, by ridicule, by  contempt, by
power, by persecution. If it is to lose its hold on the minds of
men, it is to be by some agency which has not yet been employed; yet what that is to be, the mind finds it difficult to
imagine.  (c) Thirdly, it has passed, it may be supposed, what
it had really to apprehend as the great crisis of its fate. For
the great crisis was not, as is commonly supposed, in the time
of persecution; it was to meet the developments of science.




CLAIMS OF'THE  CHIIRISTIAN RELIGION.             37
Itself originated in a rude age and land, its great encounter was
to be not so much with power as with:knowulecdqe; not so much
with princes as with philosophers; not so much with Nero and
Diocletian as with Bacon, Cuvier, and Davy; not so much with
the powers of darkness as with the floods of light that would be
poured upon the world, when the danger was that it might be
found in error as all false religions are, and might, by excess
of light, become eclipsed.  That danger may be regarded as
now passed. If it can retain its hold on the intellect of the
world at the present hour, it may be presumed to have little to
fear in the future.  (d) Fourthly, it has shown that it has
power to control the intellect of men, and to maintain its
dominion there.  That dominion it has set up now over the
best, and the most highly cultivated intellect of this age, and
it loses none of its hold by the progress which society makes in
science and in the arts.  It is undoubtedly a fact that the
period has never been when Christianity had such a hold on the
intellect of the world as it has at the present time, or when so
many cultivated minds would come forth to its defence; and it
has shown its power by securing that ascendency just in proportion as the mind of the world is developed and cultivated, and
just in proportion as the best type of intellect becomes uppermost in the control of human affairs. For not only has it maintained its ascendency as the sciences have advanced, but, if I
may be allowed the expression, it has shown a singular affinity
for the mind that appears to be destined to be the ruling mind
of the world, and that is more closely identified than any other
with all that tends to promote the progress of human affairsthe Anglo-Saxon mind.  (e) Fifthly; just one other thought
under this head: it is, that the claims of the Christian religion
are such as to command the assent of the conscience and the
heart of men.  After all, it makes its practical way in the
world rather by appeals to the conscience and the heart than
by appeals to the understanding. When men become Christians,
they feel that they are doing right, and the conscience and the
heart acquiesce in what is done, and they have no misgivings
about it. Not so if they are not Christians. They feel that they
are resisting claims which may be urged upon them  at least
with a considerable show of reason. They feel that it requires
no little ingenuity to evade the arguments which are advanced
for the claims of religion, and no little ingenuity to invent
excuses for not becoming Christians.  To become a Christian is a straightforward  work, where a man is following
the leadings of his own judgment, and conscience, and interest,




88               THE WAY OF SALVATION.
and duty, and which requires no ingenuity to apologize for;
to refuse to become one is a task, where a man has to meet
the claims of argument, and conscience, and interest, and duty,
and to reconcile his refusal with these claims in the best way
he can.
II. In the second place, I embrace tins hope because, if I
reject it, I do not get rid of the difficulties which press upon my
mind on the subject of religion.  I will frankly state to you
that I see great difficulties on the whole subject of religion,
whether the Bible be embraced or not. Far beyond what ought
to be the state of a man's mind who undertakes to defend a
system with earnestness, and which cannot be supposed often to
exist when a man pleads a cause at the bar, or in the Senate
House when his country is in danger, a minister of the gospel
may be conscious of obscurities and difficulties in the' high
subjects of the Divine nature; the introduction of moral evil;
the actual government of the world; the apparent contradictions
in the Bible; the mode of the Divine revelation; the obscurity
of the whole system  of doctrines, and the nature and duration
of future punishment; and, however others may feel, I can
easily conceive of a man's being in such a state of mind on these
matters that he is in no condition to preach properly at all.
The state of mind to which I refer cannot be more strongly
expressed than in the language of Dr. Payson,  Said he in a
letter to a friend long after he began to preach, " My difficulties
increase every year. There is one trial which you cannot know
experimentally. It is that of being obliged to preach to others
when one doubts of everything, and can scarcely believe that
there is a God.  All the atheistical, deistical, and heretical
objections which I meet with in books are childish babblings
compared with those which Satan suggests, and which he urges
upon the mind with a force which seems irresistible.  Yet I am
often obliged to write sermons and to preach when these objec-.tions beat upon me like a whirlwind, and almost distract me"
Works, i., 379, 380.
But, on the other hand, looking at the subject as a candid
man, I do not see that I am relieved, or that I get rid of these
difficulties by rejecting the Bible.  The main difficulties on the
whole subject lie backl of the Bible and of Christianity, and have
nothing to do with the one or the other, and I am in no manner
relieved if I reject the Old and the New Testaments.  I rather
fall back on the difficulties with no explanation and no relief,
and then I am prepared to appreciate the perplexities of Socrates,
and the trouble of Cicero, and the difficulties of Zoroaster and




CLAIMS OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION.                 39
of Mani, and the anguish of Augustine before he became converted. For I find the same difficulties press upon me, and
that without light or relief.  They are difficulties growing out
of the Divine character; and the principles of the Divine administration; and the introduction of moral evil; and the treatment which men receive at the hand of God; and the fearful
impending prospects hereafter. I get rid of no one of them by
rejecting the Bible, and I am not only not relieved, but I deprive
myself of all the explanation which I can now find in the Bible
on these subjects, and at the same time of the bright light
which shines on a thousand topics which otherwise would be
as dark to me as they are-the light which would guide me
safely to a better world.
III. In the third place, I embrace this hope because it meets
the wants of my natut'e, and fJrlaishes me such a religion as I
need. On the subject of religion there are certain things which
my nature and my circunstances demand; and a religion to be
such as religion should be, must meet those demands.  The
Christian system, though it does not yet answer all the questions which I would ask, does substantially meet those demands,
and does set the mind at rest. It is, of course, impossible in a
single head of a discourse to do anything more than to give
some hints of what I here refer to, and which must appear bald
and dry because there is no time to illustrate them. But I will
just refer to some of them: (1.) Man wants a God, and has
always been looking out for the Infinite One, to discern him
amidst his works, or to obtain by revelation some knowledge
of his existence and perfections. The Bible reveals such a God,
clothed with every glorious attribute, and infinite in his perfections, and spiritual in his nature, and pure in his government,
and benignant in his character, and so vast, and great, and
glorious that he is seen to be worthy of universal adoration and
praise.  (2.) Man wants faith.  He wants some being in whom
lie may confide, and who has all power; some one on whom he
can rely; some one to whom he can go in trouble; some one on
whom he can repose in the hour of death. A state of scepticism
is an unnatural state, and therefore a miserable state.  The
mind never finds rest till it finds a God in whom it can confide,
and it is constantly going out in restlessness and anxiety and
discomfort till it finds such a God. (3.) Man needs a knowledge
of the way by which sin can be forgiven, and no system  of
religion can meet our condition which does not reveal such a
method. That man is a fallen being is perfectly plain, and no
one can deny it; and that a system of religion that does not
4




40              THE WAY OF SALVATION.
recognise that fact and provide for it, is false and defective, is
apparent at a glance. Indeed, the consciousness of sin has been
the principal source of trouble in this world, and the profoundest
and most anxious inquiries of men have been to find out some
way by which sin can be pardoned. One thing is certain, that
man cannot look calmly forward to eternity, as a sinner, without
some knowledge of a way of pardon; some evidence that his
sins are forgiven. Somehow, conscience has a power which man
dreads, and sin, after being long committed and apparently
forgotten, has a way of reviving in its power by the aid of
memory which he would not meet beyond the grave. The
world needs the knowledge of a  way by which sin may be
forgiven, and individual man needs the knowledge of such a
way, or he cannot find peace. The gospel has revealed such a
method. It has done two things in this respect-one of which
was necessary to be done, and the other of which was not
necessary, and which is, therefore, a matter of mere favour: it
has proclaimed the fact that sin may be pardoned; and it has
disclosed the method by which it is done; and in both these
the mind fully and joyfully acquiesces.  Man finds in the
gospel, in this respect, that which quite meets the case, and
which puts the mind to rest. He finds a method of pardon
revealed which displays the character of God in a most lovely
manner; which does all that can be done, and all that is needful
to be done, to maintain the honour of the law of God; and
which is adapted to give entire peace to a troubled conscience.
(4.) Man needs a knowledge of a way by which the soul may
be made holy; by which he may be defended in the day of
temptation; by which he may be supported in the time of
trial; by which he may find peace in the hour of death-and
he finds all this amply in the gospel. And (5) he needs a
revelation of a future state-some assurance about the immortality of the soul-something more than vague conjecture, and
loose and uncertain analogies, to assure him that his soul is
immortal. I need not say that men have sought this everywhere and at all times, nor need I remind you how loose and
unsatisfactory have been all their reasonings on this subject.
To the classic scholar I need not say that if I should here
adduce the reasonings of Plato in the Phaedo on the immortality
of the soul, those reasonings which Addison makes Cato pronounce to be so well founded, there is not a man here present who
would feel himself convinced by them, or who would not feel,
if this were all, that the subject was left in utter and most
distressing doubt: perhaps no one who would not feel that I




CLAIMS OF THE CHRISTIAN  RELIGION.               41
was insulting his understanding by insisting on these arguments
-certainly no infidel who would not ask me if I had no better
reasons than those for believing in the immortality of the soul.
Of this work, and of Plato's reasonings in it, Cicero, in his
Tusculan Questions, most feelingly and strikingly remarks: " I
do not know how it is, but when I read I assent; but when I
lay down the book and begin to reflect by myself on the immortality of the soul, all my assent glides away."[-Nescio quo modo,
dam lego, assentior; cum posui librum, et mecum ipse de immortalitate animorum ccepi cogitare, assentio omnis illa elabitur.]
But, as a matter of simple fact, this result does not follow from
the faith reposed in the New Testament. The hope of immortality becomes a fixed and ruling principle of the nature, just as
certain and determinate in its influence on the life as the belief
that the sun will continue to rise, and that the laws of nature
will remain unchanged.  On the whole, and in a word, I look
at my nature in reference to its capabilities and wants, and to
the question whether the gospel meets those capabilities and
wants, and I can see no deficiency-nothing which it has not
provided for. Man is endowed with reason;-it meets his reason
in the evidence of its truth, and in the nature of its revelations.
Man has a conscience;-it discloses the way in which it may
have peace. Man has sinned;-it reveals a way of pardon.
Man pants to live for ever;-it tells him he will. He is made to 
be influenced by hope;-it has set the highest conceivable hopes
before him. He has duties to perform; —it has told him what
they are, and how to perform them. He is to be governed by
motives;-it has told him what they should be. He is in a
world of trials;-it tells him  how to bear them.  He has an
imagination; —it sets before him  objects most brilliant-compared with which the most splendid descriptions of genius die
away.  He sees in himself some evidences that he has an immortal soul; —it confirms them, and raises this beginning of
hope from a state of uncertainty and doubt when it produced no
influence on his life, to most certain assurance, and makes it the
most influential of all the principles of action.
IV. In the fourth place, I cherish this hope, and embrace this
system, because of its undeniably happy influence on all the interests of man. I am aware of the objection which some may
start here, and do not forget that I might be referred to the
wars, and crusades, and persecutions, and horrors of the inquisition, and the miserable superstition in pilgrimages and the rules
of the monastic life, which it would be said have grown'out of
Christianity.  But I trust I need not argue this point. I am




42               TIlE WAY OF SALVATION.
speaking of pure Christianity; not of Christianity perverted and
abused.  I am speaking of what every man knows will be its
influence if an individual, or a family, or a larger community,
comes under its power. These things to which I have just referred
are no part of the proper effect of true religion, and I presume
that they who would urge the objection know that as well as I
do. Every man knows what the effect of pure Christianity is;
and when its professed friends evince any of these things, its
enemies are not slow to remark that they do not "live up" to
the requirements and the spirit of their religion. But let a few
simple facts be submitted under this head in the form in which
I am conducting this argument-that is, stating reasons why I
cherish the hope that is in me. We who are professed Christians,
then, look (a) at the influence of that gospel on our own character.
None of us who are Christians have anything of which to boast,
and there is not one of us that is not sensible of serious defects
in his character, and of errors and follies over which he mourns
in secret.  But, as far as we can trace the influence of that
gospel on our minds and hearts, it has not been a bad influence,
or an influence of which we should be ashamed. We have found
it giving us the victory over low and debasing propensities and
passions; furnishing a check, in numerous cases wholly effectual,
on what were before unbridled appetites; elevating our views,
and expanding our conceptions, of the dignity of our nature,
and of the objects for which we should live; raising us in the
scale of being, and teaching us to aspire to fellowship with the
more exalted intellects before the " throne;" removing the
acerbities, and destroying the unevenness of our temper; making
us willing to forgive our " enemies, persecutors, and slanderers,"
and to pray that God would " change their hearts;" giving us
cheerfulness, peace, and " minds contented with our present condition;" purifying our hearts, subduing the stubbornness of our
will, and making us submissive in trial; disposing us to kindness and affection in the various relations of life, and inclining
us to look with an eye of tenderness and pity on the oppressed,
the fatherless, and the sad.  (b) We look again at the effects of
the gospel on the minds of our friends-living and dead-and
we find there, too, only the same purifying and happy influence.
It has given the chief virtues to our living friends; it has done
more than all things else to hallow the memory of those who
are dead. A father, a mother, a wife, a daughter, a sister, has
none the less claim to affection by becoming a Christian; and
we feel that whatever may be their native amiableness, there is
not a virtue which will not be brightened, not a lovely trait




CLAIMS OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION.                 43
which will not be rendered more lovely, and not a defect which
will not be lessened or removed, by the influence of the gospel.
No man believes that his wife will be made less pure, kind,
virtuous, chaste, faithful, by being a true Christian; no man
supposes that his son or daughter would become a more ready
prey to corrupt influences and evil passions by being brought
wholly under the influence of the gospel of Christ. As far as
we can trace that influence on the character of any of our friends
now living, or on the character of those who have departed, it
has been a happy influence. We fear not that it will injure the
cherished memory on earth of those who have left the world, or
hinder their salvation in the future state; nor do we fear its
proper influence on the life and heart of any living friend.
When the sailor-boy leaves his home for a seafaring life; when
a son embarks on a vessel to go to a distant land for scientific
purposes, to perfect himself in some liberal art, or for commerce,
we do not feel that he will be injured by any fair influence of
religion on his soul.  We sleep not the less calmly at night
when the storm howls and we feel that he is danger; nor are
we the less serene when we think of the temptations to which he
is exposed in a distant land, nor when the thought crosses our
minds that perhaps we may never see him again. It is not a
record which we are unwilling to have made on the stone which
marks the grave of a friend that he lived and died with the
Christian hope; it is not one which would dishonour us if it
should be at last cut on our own. (c) The same remarks, expanded, might be made respecting a neighbourhood or a nation;
respecting the relation of Christianity to the progress of society,
to civilization, to learning, to the arts, to schools, to social
customs, to human liberty.  Look around you, and ask what
injury the Christian religion has done in the institutions of our
own land; or rather ask what we have here which has not been
originated or improved by the influence of the Christian religion.
What is there in this land now that is valuable that it does not
preserve; what is there that has cost so much blood and treasure,
and that now so much excites the hopes of humanity every-'where, that would not soon become corrupt and worthless if it
were not for the influence of the gospel of Christ? I confess
that I feel that it elevates my nature to cherish a hope derived
fiom a religion that has scattered blessings in every age and every
land; that has been connected with human progress everywhere;
that has been identified with the best notions of liberty and
civil government-with the progress of learning-with institutions of charity-with the sweetest virtues and enjoyments of




44               THE WAY OF SALVATION.
domestic life-with all that gives support in trial-and with the
only real consolation that is ever felt on the bed of death.
V. I had intended to have dwelt at some length on a fifth
point as a reason for cherishing this hope, but perhaps all that
I could say might be condensed into a sentence or two, and, at
any rate, must be now: it is this, because I feel assured that
I shall most prize this religion when I come to lie upon the bed
of death. You will not understand me to imply that I think
the dying moment the most favourable time to form a correct
judgment on any subject, but that the judgment which will then
be formed will be in accordance with the views which I have
been endeavouring to set forth. I am certain that when I come
to die, my sense of the truth and the value of this religion will
not be diminished, and that I shall not then regret my having
cherished this Christian hope. I am not accustomed to see men
die sorrowing that they are Christians, nor have I found, in the
books which make record of the last thoughts of the dying,
expressions of regret from the lips of saints and martyrs that
they hadtoo early in life embraced the hope inspired by the gospel
of Christ.  I think we cannot be more firmly assured of anything than that when we come to die, we shall not find the
Christian hope valueless, or wish that we could recall and change
that hour in our lives when we gave ourselves to the Saviour.
I give this, then, as a reason-last, but not least-why we cherish
this hope, that when the final hour of our lives shall come, and
"our eyes shall be turned for the last time to behold the sun in
the heavens," when all the plans and hopes which we have ever
cherished shall be ended, and we shall give the parting hand to
the friends, few or many, that affection shall summon around
our beds, we shall prize the hopes of the gospel of Christ more
than we do now-more, infinitely more, than we shall all other
things. We shall see the whole subject rise with a dignity and
value which we cannot now estimate, and the brightest earthly
crowns will be baubles then, compared with the crown of righteousness laid up for us in heaven. I would that you all could
see in these considerations reasons why you should embrace and
cherish this hope also, but, whatever may be the effect on you,
they are the "answer" which we are required to " give to any
man that asketh us a reason of the hope that is in us."




SERMON IV.
THE CONDITION OF MAN NOT BENEFITTED BY THE REJECTION OF CHRISTIANITY.
JOHN vi. 68. —" Then Simon Peter answered him, Lord, to whom shall we go?
thou hast the words of eternal life."
ANY system of religion which has had a wide and permanent
influence in the world, must be founded on some principles of
plausible or solid philosophy.  There must be something in
human nature, or in the relations of things, which furnishes a
basis for it on which to rest, and by which it may be made to
appear to the human mind to be true.  It may be doubted
whether the mind can long cherish error, knowing it to be such,
and whether the arguments from supposed interest can be so
magnified, and rendered so plausible, that the race would long
adhere to what is known to be false. It may be presumed, then,
that the great mass of those who have embraced an erroneous
system are the victims of delusion; and yet, that the delusion is
kept up by something which deserves the name of philosophy.
There is as real philosophy at the basis of the views of the heathens
now, as there was in the speculations of the Greeks; there is
much adaptation to certain wants and laws of human nature in
the religion of Mohammed; there are at the basis of the Roman
Catholic system those profound views of man, of his wants, and
of his passions, which have been ascertained by the keen investigations of more than a thousand years; and neither of these
systems is to be overthrown by declamation, or denunciation, or
by arguments drawn from superficial views of the nature of man.
I would not despise any system of belief which has held on its
way amidst fierce discussions and in the face of violent opposition for ages; which has lived while empires have arisen and
decayed; and which draws to itself with mighty power the
minds of succeeding millions of the race.
It is supposed by many persons now, as it was by those who
turned away from the Saviour, that by not embracing Christianity, certain difficulties are avoided which are regarded as
inseparable from that system, and that thus dissociated from it




46               THE WAY  OF SALVATION.
they will have nothing more to do with those things which are
considered as most perplexing and repulsive.  It is supposed
that the religion of Christ is encompassed with difficulties from
which it is desirable that the human mind should escape, and
from which it will escape if the system be rejected.
It is important to institute an examination in regard to this,
and to see whether it is so.  It cannot be denied that there are
certain embarrassments in Christianity, or in things usually
associated with it, from which it would be desirable to escape.
Can they be avoided by rejecting this system, and embracing
any other P  This question I propose to examine, by showing,
that there are common evils under which the race labours, and
which were not originated by Christianity; that there are common
principles which lie at the basis of all systems of religion, and
on which all the race must act; and that the rejection of Christianity does not relieve us of those evils, or enable us to act
better in accordance with those principles; or, in other words,
that we cannot improve our condition by rejecting the Christian
system.  " Lord, to whom shall we go P thou hast the words of
eternal life."
I. There are common evils under which the race labours, and
which were not originated by Christianity.  I mean, that they
are simple matters of fact which are in no way affected, so far
as their existence is concerned, by the solution of the question
whether Christianity be true or false. They as much pertain to
the system  of the Mussulman or the Pagan as to that of the
Christian, and the deist and the infidel are as much concerned
to explain them as we are. Christianity did not originate those
evils, nor has it so modified them, or incorporated them into its
system, as to make it particularly incumbent on its friends to
explain them.  Those evils are no part of religion of any kind,
nor can any form of religion be held responsible for them.
Great injustice is often done to religion, and to the Christian
religion in particular, by reasoning as if it were responsible for
all the evil that there is in the world, and especially as if it had
originated sin, and woe, and death. Men seem to feel that these
things are indissolubly connected with Christianity, and that
that system  is to be held answerable for the whole doctrine
respecting the fall of man, and the depravity of the race, for
the introduction of moral evil, and for the exposure of the race
to final ruin.  There is a disposition often manifested to throw
whatever is odious in these doctrines on the Bible, and to group
them and the doctrines of redemption together, as if they were
parts of one system, and to regard them  as having no claim to




REJECTION  OF CHRISTIANITY.                    47
the attention of any who may choose to reject the Christian
system.
Now, I will not say that there is always designed injustice in
this, though I shall endeavour to show you that the injustice is
real.  There is an illusion about it which I do not doubt affects
the minds of many persons who would by no means do injustice
to any system  of religion, or its friends.  The illusion arises
from  this fact, that all religion, in our world, has much to do
with these painful things-the fall, sickness, death, the grave.
In other worlds religion may be a materially different thingthe pure and delightful service of a holy God without one
gloomy association, for there is no sin there, no sick-bed, no
grave. But here, religion must be essentially a remedial system.
It will answer no purpose if it is not.  It must propose some
way for the pardon of sin; some relief in calamity; some consolation in bereavement and death; and it must shed some light
on the grave. It seems to be demanded that it should do something to tell us how it was that man came into his present condition; what, in fact, the condition is, and how it bears on his
prospects for the future world.  It of necessity, therefore, has
much to do with the doctrine of depravity, and with the subject
of death-just as the practice of medicine has much to do with
diseases and sick-beds.  Now, by a very obvious law of mind,
we fall into a delusion, and unconsciously do injustice to the
system.  We group all these things together; regard them  as
part and parcel of the same system, and think that they must
stand or fall together.  But nothing can be more obviously unjust than such a course. It is as if we should associate the
science of medicine and the diseases which it proposes to remedy
together, and hold that science responsible for having introduced
pleurisies and consumptions into the world, and for all the evils
connected with them.  It is as if you should suppose that by
banishing the science of medicine from the earth, you would at
the same time deliver yourselves from  pain and death.  The
truth is, though we seldom fall into the delusion there to which I
am adveiring in religion, that the healing art is solely a remedial
system, and is to be judged as such a system alone.  It finds
disease already existing; it does not create it: and whether the
proposed remedial system turns out to be of value or not, the
great original fact on which it is based remains the same. It is
altogether isolated; a fact with which every other man is as
much concerned as the disciple of Galen.
Or to use another illustration.  It is as if the statesman were
held responsible for all the original evils of the social system




48              THTIE WAY OF SALVATION.
which he proposes to remedy; and as if, instead of judging of
the constitution which he proposes merely as a remedial system,
we group that and all the evils which he proposes to correct
together, and by rejecting his system suppose that we get rid of
all concern about those evils. Or, still further, it is as if we were
to hold the historian responsible for the crimes and calamities
of which he makes a record, and to suppose that by denying the
credibility of his statements, the facts which he has recorded
cease to be true. A large part of the Bible, in introducing the
account of the remedial system, is occupied in a mere statement
of facts about the fall and depravity of man.  But the sacred
historian did not originate the fall or the depravity of man, any
more than Livy or Hume did the wars with the Sabines, or. the
contests between the red and white roses; nor should the Bible,
or the system of religion which it reveals, be held responsible
for those facts any more than Gibbon should be for the character
of Nero and Caligula, or than the Father of history should for
the plague at Athens.  A history should be held answerable
only as a record of facts. The facts are independent things, and
remain the same, whether recorded or not. A remedial system
should be held answerable only as such, and not at all for the
evils which it proposes to remedy. Those evils are independent
things, having no immediate connexion with that system, and
are evils in which others are as much concerned as its friends.
It should be held answerable, not for the introduction or the
existence of the evil, but only for what it proposes to do, and
for the fair inferences which follow  from  its influence on a
system already existing.
With these indisputable principles before us, I now remark,
that Christianity did not originate the evils of our race, and is
no more responsible for them  than infidelity is.  They are
matters of simple FACT, whether Christianity be true or falseas it is a fact that there is disease in the world, and that men
suffer and die, whether the remedies proposed answer the purpose or not. The atheist, the deist, the man of the world, the
man of science, the historian, the moralist, the epicurean, and
the stoic, have as much to do with them as the Christian, and
are as much bound to explain them. We meet on common
ground here, and in the development of our different systems
soe start together.
Let us look a moment at some of those facts:
(1.) Man is a fallen being; a sinner.  Can there be any difference of opinion on this point P The Bible records the fact;
and do not Livy, and Sallust, and Hume, and Gibbon, and




REJECTION  OF CIHRISTIANITY.                  49
Baronius, and Alison do the same thing? Is there any historical
record which describes man as any otherwise than as a sinner?
The accounts of the perfection or perfectability of man are in
philosophical speculations, not in historical records. The Bible
describes man as prone to evil.  And does not every man so
regard the race?  What mean the laws made to restrain men?
What mean prisons, and padlocks, and securities against fraud
and dishonesty?  Is there a merchant who would repose quietly
on his pillow if there were not a strong and skilfully constructed
lock on his store?  Is there a vault of a bank that could be
safely left open for a single night?  Is there a man who does
not make it his business to guard against the fraud, duplicity,
cunlling, and violence of every other man as if he would do
wrong 
Now, about the fact of the depravity of man there surely can be
no manner of doubt.  The fact exists, whatever remedy is proposed; whatever statement is made of its origin; or however
you may account for it.  It no more pertains to the Christian,
or to his theory of religion, than it does to the theory or religion
of any other man.  Men do not get rid of it by denying Christianity; they do not make it any worse by embracing it.  It
belongs to the race as such, and we must make the best of it.
Whether Christianity be true or false, the evil is the same, and
all men will continue to act as if the doctrine were true.  We
may differ in our explanations about the way in which man
became a sinner; we may speculate in a different manner in
regard to the time when he begins to go astray; we may have
different views about the condition of the infant mind; and we
might not agree as to the exact connexion between facts which
now exist, and the act of the progenitor of the race, but the
material facts pertain to one system  as much as to another.
Revealed religion is in no way peculiarly concerned about it,
except that it has offered an explanation of the manner in which
sin has come into the world, and it is responsible only for that
explanation.
(2.) The same is true in regard to sickness and suffering.
Man is a sufferer, whatever system of religion be embraced or
rejected. The earth is a vale of tears, and no art of man can
drive sickness, care, bereavement, or pain from  it.  That the
race suffers is a great fact which is in no way affected by the
question whether this or that form  of religion be true or false,
except as religion may in some way mitigate sorrow.  We
may differ as to the cause of suffering.  We may have our
different theories in explanation of the question how it is con



50               T'lTHE WAY OF SALVATION.
sistent with the government of God.  We may inquire whether
sin is the cause, proximate or remote, or whether it is to be
traced wholly to some physical laws; but the fact remains the
same, and it pertains no more to the Christian system  than
to any other. Christianity has originated no disease. It has not
generated the malaria of the Pontine marshes; it does not give
birth to the plague in Cairo or Constantinople, nor has it caused
the cholera which sweeps over the plains of India.  There is
not a disease to which the human frame is subject that has been
either increased or aggravated by the Christian religion, or for
which the Christian religion, or any other religion, is responsible. There is not one of them that would be healed by burning
the last Bible on the earth, or by driving the last vestige of
religion from the world.
(3.) Thus, too, it is with the mental sorrows to which the race
is subject. The illusion to which I have adverted operates with
more power here than it does in regard to the point just referred
to.  There is no one who would directly charge Christianity
with being the cause of a cancer or of consumption; but there
is many a one who would suffer the illusion to play around the
mind that it is the cause of the mental sorrows to which we are.
subject, and that those sorrows are parts of this system of religion. There has been a steady effort, though not always open
and avowed, to connect these sorrows and Christianity together,
and to lead men to suppose that by casting off the restraints of
religion they free themselves from mental griefs.  The reason
of this illusion I have already adverted to, and the injustice of
the feeling may be seen at a glance. An effort has been made
to make it appear to a world that seeks to be gay, that somehow the alarms of conscience, the dread of death, and the apprehension of the world to come, are the creation of Christianity,
and that religion is responsible for their existence in the soul.
But is this so?  Can it be so P  Do these things exist nowhere
else?  Are they found under no other system of religion?  Are
they never found where there is no religion of any kind?  And
is it true that by casting off the Christian religion a man obtains
a guarantee that he will never be troubled by the remembrance
of guilt; that he will escape from remorse of conscience; that
he will not be overborne by the fear of death?  He must have
studied the world very imperfectly who can suppose that these
things are the creation of religion, or that they have any peculiar
relation to religion of any kind whatever. The truth is, they
belong to us as men.  They are the operation of great laws of
our nature.  They lie back of all religion, and would not be




REJECTION  OF CHRISTIANITY.                   51
affected, except by being deepened, if you were to sweep every
Bible and every Christian church from every land.
(4.) The same thing is true ill regard to death. Here, too, the
illusion to which I have adverted constantly operates. There is
a feeling somehow that death, always a painful subject of reflection, peculiarly pertains to religion, and a serious contemplation
of death, or a remark made about it as a personal matter, is
somehow regarded as an omen that one is becoming religious.
But what has religion particularly to do with the subject of
death? Did it introduce it into the world? Has it aggravated
its pangs?  Do religious people only die?  Can a manl by becoming an infidel or an universal sceptic, avoid dying?  Will it
drive death from the world to laugh at religion; or would it if
it could be proved that all religion is imposture? The truth isand it is a truth so obvious that it would hardly be proper
formally to state it if it were not for the illusion already referred
to-that death pertains to our race, whether Christianity be true
or false. Religion did not introduce it, and is in no way responsible for it; nor is death in any way modified, whatever opinions
may be entertained of Christianity, or of any other system  of
religion. We may differ in our explanations of it.  I may have
my theory about the cause, and you may have yours, and still
the fact remains the same.  Death approaches with the same
steady pace, and with the same repulsive aspect, whatever may
be the nature of our speculations.  Religion does not quicken
his pace, nor does infidelity retard it; and he is just as likely to
come into the ball-room, or among a company of savans speculating on its cause, or among a company of revellers blaspheming
all religion, as into the church of the living God. We are all
brothers here, and we all have an equal interest in this matter.
The entrance of death into our world was prior to the entrance
of Christianity, and if Christianity should take its everlasting
flight from the earth, the angel of death would linger here, glad
of her departure, for he could make the pains of death more
terrific than they are now.
If these things are so, then all men have the same interest in
them. They lie apart from all religion as indisputable FACTS, and
they pertain as much to the infidel as the Christian; as much
really to the scientific lecture-room as to the pulpit. Religion
Jinds these things in existence; it does not create them, and is in
no manner responsible for them.  Christianity found them upon
the earth, as Galen and Hippocrates found disease, and for their
-existence there is no more responsibility in the one case than in
the other.  Here we begin our investigations together, having




52              TTHE WAY OF SALVATION.
the same facts to deal with, and with the certainty that the
adoption or rejection of any particular form of religion does not
materially alter them.  The point now  illustrated is, that the
Christian, the infidel, and the scoffer, are equally concerned in
these facts, for they pertain to man whatever form of religion
he has, or whether he has any religion or none. This leads me,
II. In the second place, to observe, that as there are evils
pertaining to our race which lie back of religion, and in which
all men have a common interest, so there are certain principles
which pertain to all men; principles supposed to be true by the
Christian religion, but which are in no way affected by the
question whether Christianity be true or false; principles which
are better met by that system than by any other.  My limits
will not allow me to illustrate them at length; and all that I
can do is to advert to them  in the most summary manner.
Among those principles are the following:(1.) That man is a moral agent, and in this respect differs
from the whole brute creation beneath him.  I say that this
pertains to man as such, for it cannot be pretended that the
Bible, or the Christian system, has so altered the nature of man
as to malce him a moral agent.  He is so under every system of
religion, and is equally so whether Christianity be true or false.
It would be easy to show that the Bible recognises this, and
adapts itself to it better than any other system of religion.
(2.) That he is under a moral government. I mean that there
are marks of a moral government over the world entirely independent of Christianity, or that there is a course of events which
tends to the punishment of vice and the reward of virtue. It
is possible to make out the great principles of this government
without the aid of revelation, for it was seen and understood
when there was no revelation. The course of events in the
world is such that, as a great law, one course of conduct will be
followed by life, health, happiness, and a good name; another
by disease, poverty, wretchedness, disgrace, and a dishonoured
grave. Innumerable facts in the world, and long observation,
show what is the course which will tend to the one or the other,
and so clearly that it may be the basis of counsel to those who
are entering on the career of life. These principles accord with
those in the Bible, and have received an additional sanction from
the Bible, but they exist independently of any particular form
of religion, and are those on which men must act.  They are
nret and carried out better by Christianity than by any other
system, for the whole arrangement is one that is designed to
exhibit ultimately the perfection of moral government.




REJECTION OF CHRISTIANITY.                    53
(3.) Man's future condition will in some way be determined
by his present conduct. This, too, is a principle on which all
men act by nature, whether they have, or have not, any religion,
or whether any particular form  of religion be true or false.
Every young man admits it as one of the things which spur
him on to great or noble efforts, and which encourage him in
study, in resisting temptation, or in laying his plans of life;
and every man who has reached mature life or old age, sees that
it has been so in regard to himself. He can trace the esteem in
which he is held, or the health which he enjoys, or the property
which he has accumulated, to his conduct and plans far back in
life, and can see how the one is but the development of the
other. This principle is indeed an essential one in Christianity;
but it is not peculiar to it, nor has it been originated by it. It
is in the world everywhere, and the man who rejects religion
acts on it as certainly as he who embraces it.
(4.) It is a principle which is held in common by all, that the
conduct of the present life may affect that which is to come.
This is but carrying out the principle just stated, for why should
the operation of this law terminate at death P  What is there in
death to check it?  Why should the act of dying arrest this
course of things any more than the slumbers of a night? For,
as the conduct of yesterday travels over the interval of the nightwatches, and meets us in its results to-day, why shall not the
same law operate in reference to the shorter night-the sleep of
death? Here is a uniform system of things, that our conduct at
present affects our future destiny; uniform as far as the eye can
run it backward into past generations; uniform, so as to become
the foundation of laws, and of the entire government of the
world; and uniform so far as the eye can trace the results of
conduct forward in all the landmarks set up along our future
course. Why should it be arrested by so unimportant a circumstance as death-death that less suspends human consciousness
and action than a night's sleep; death that no more interrupts
identity, and arrests the course of events in regard to an individual, than a passage from one land to another, or than the crossing of the conventional boundary of a kingdom?  And as crime
here meets its results after we "have crossed oceans, and snows,
and sands; as punishment, in remorse of conscience, in the storm,
in the siroc, in the ocean, may follow us when far from country
and home, in lands of strangers, where no eye may recognise us
but that of the unseen Witness of our actions, why shall not
the results of our conduct meet us beyond the little rivulet of
death? That the conduct of this life is to be followed by results




54                 THE WAY OF SALVATION.
appropriate to it in the world to come is not a peculiar principle
of Christianity; it pertains to the almost universal faith of man,
and enters into all the religions of man. It is one of those great
principles on which man must act whether Christianity or any
other particular form  of religion be regarded as true or false.
And yet there is no provision made to meet this principle fully
in any other system of religion but the Christian.
(5.) It is an original principle pertaining to man as such that
a future state of existence is desirable. The language of Addison,
which we so much admire, is not mere poetry.  He utters the
feelings of all men, when he says —
Whence this secret dread and inward horror
Of falling into nought?  Why shrinks the soul
Back on herself, and startles at destruction?'Tis the divinity that stirs within us;'Tis Heaven itself that points out an hereafter,
And intimates eternity to lman. — ATO, Act v.
Man has this desire everyw here, and a large portion of his
reasonings from  the earliest days downward has been designed
to show  that it was proper for him  to cherish it.  It is not
created by the Christian religion. It lies beyond that, and exists
in the soul, with all its intensity, whether Christianity or any
other particular form of religion be true: —but what other system
of religion so fully meets it as this?
(6.) It is somehow a great law of our nature that we need an
atonement for our transgressions — that some sacrifice or oblation
should be made that will appease the wrath of God, and do
honour to a violated law, and open  a way of pardon  to the
guilty.  This is not originated by Christianity, nor is it peculiar
to it.  It is found in every land, among all people, and in every.age.  The evidence of it is seen on every bloody altar, and in
the creeds of nearly all forms of religion.  But where is this so
fully met; where is there any form  of atonement by which its
demands are so fully accomplished, as in the sacrifice made by
Christ    That meets all that we think the law demands; does
all that can be done to repair the evils of the apostasy; and
leaves the mind wholly at rest as to the necessity of any other
sacrifice for the sins of the world.
(7.) And a well-founded, or seventh principle is equally universal.
It is, that this world does not furnish all the happiness of which
we are capable.  Our nature pants for something more; it looks
on to something  still future.  We partake of the happiness
which this world can give, but there is still a "void" in the




REJ ECTION OF CHRISTIANITY.                  55
soul which is not filled. We look into the future.  We try to
lift the veil which hides the invisible world.  We believe, in
spite of ourselves, that if the soul is ever satisfied it must be by
something there.  I'zis desire, too, is not the creation of the
Christian religion. It lies back of that religion in the soul of
man, and exists in the human bosom whether that religion be
true or false.
Such are some of the evils under which the race groans, and
such some of the principles on which the race must act. They
are evils and principles which exist independently of any system
of religion, and yet which demand some arrangement to meet
them, and in reference to which every scheme of religion has
been originated. We are led here to our
III. Third general inquiry-to what system can we go where
there are fewer perplexities; where these evils are better met;
and, where these principles are better consulted, than in the
Christian system?  "Will ye also go away?" said the Saviour
to his disciples. " Lord, to whom shall we go?" asked Peter;
" thou hast the words of eternal life?" To what teacher should
they repair who would be better qualified to instruct them? To
what Jewish party should they apply, that they might better
learn the way to heaven P  To what sect of philosophers should
they go, that they might find more consolation in the ills of life,
be better supported in its trials, and find a more satisfactory
answer to those questi6ns which their very nature prompted
them  to ask?  Difficulties there might be in  the Christian
religion, but where would they find fewer?  Mysteries there
might be, but where could they go where there were none?
And where will a man go now to find a system that is better
fitted to meet the evils of the present world, or to carry out and
satisfy the great original principles on which he must act?  For
you will remember that the question is not, whether by rejecting
Christianity he may avoid these evils, or whether the race will
cease to act on these principles. Those points are settled; and
whether Christianity be embraced or rejected, they pertain to
the race. The question is, whether he can improve his condition
in regard to these things by rejecting  this revelation, and
turning to some other system? This is a fair question, and one
which it becomes every man to answer for himself. It should be
answered.  Christianity proposes a remedy for these evils, and a
way by which these great principles of our nature may be met
and carried out. It does not originate these things, and should
not be held answerable for them. It is in all respects, and in
every aspect of it, a remedial system, and should be examined
5




56              THE WAY OF SALVATION.
and judged only as such. Man by nature, sunk under sin, and
exposed to pain and death, seeks some system which shall meet
his sad condition, and alleviate his sorrows. He looks around
for some way by which his sin may be forgiven; by which a
propitiation may be made for his offences; by which he may
obtain consolation in the prospect of dying. The gospel comes,
and proposes a method of meeting his case, and declares that
sin may be forgiven through the atonement made by the Son of
God, and opens upon him the prospect of a resurrection and a
glorious immortality. Now is not this just what he wants, and
can he find a system that will better answer the end than this?
For you will remember, I repeat it, that the question is not
whether by rejecting this system you can avoid sin and pain
and death. That point is so settled as not to admit of debate.
But do not these things which Christianity has revealed meet
the case? Can sinful, suffering, and dying man find a system
that will better meet his condition?  Where will he turn to
find a better system? Will he go to heathenism? But would
he find any sacrifice there for sin which for purity, and dignity,
and efficacy would compare with that of the Son of God? Will
he, then, consent to blot out all that Christianity has done for
society, and place the race again in the condition of the Caffrarian or the Bushman? Does he suppose that the evils of the
world would be mitigated by a return to that condition in which
man was before the light of Christianity dawned on it? Will
he turn to the ancient philosophers? And does he suppose that
they can explain the mysteries of his being, and provide a better
deliverance, than has been done by Him whom the Father has
sent into the world? Let him become an Epicurean or a Stoic.
Does he escape from the perplexities which he has been accustomed to associate with Christianity?  Do not the Epicurean
and the Stoic sin and suffer and die; and do not men sin and
suffer and die all around them? Will he turn to the modern
philosopher, or the modern infidel?  Do they propose a better
way by which a guilty conscience may become calm; by which
life's sorrows may be borne, and by which the pangs of death
may be more patiently or triumphantly endured? Or does he
escape from any of the mysteries and perplexities which encompass this subject when associated with Christianity? Do no
other men but Christians die? Do they have no trouble of conscience? Are they never sick? Did not Paine, and Volney, and
Humne die? And have they left any recipe by which death can
be more calmly met and better borne than it was by Stephen,
and Paul, and Halyburton, and Baxter, and Payson?




REJECTION  OF CHRISTIANITY.                 57
Oh, what is this world when we have turned away from  the
cross of Christ, and from the instruction which God has given
us in his word? Man is seen upon the earth a strange being,
playing a strange part, and encircled by mysteries. He has
been created he knows not by whom, or when, or for what
purpose. He begins to sin as soon as he begins to act, but he
knows not why. He finds himself prone to evil by some
mysterious law for which there is no explanation. He suffers,
he knows not why. He lives, he knows not for what end; and
when he dies he goes into another world, he knows not whither
or why. IHe can do nothing to stay the progress of the plague
which sweeps away the race, and he can only stand and weep
over the grave which he digs for his pale brother, and which
he himself must soon enter.  He stretches out his hands to
heaven as iJ' there might be help there, but none appears.
" His eye poureth out tears" as it is lifted toward the skies; it
gazes intensely for light, but not a ray-is seen.  His nature
pants to live for ever, but no response is given to the aspirings
of his soul; nothing tells him that he may live. He is a poor,
ignorant, degraded, and dying being, seeking for a guide, and
panting for a system of religion that will meet the wants of his
nature, and raise him up to God. Revealed religion comes and
tells him who made him, and why; explains the way in which
the race sank into this melancholy condition, and how it may be
recovered; proposes promises adapted to him  as an immortal
being; reveals a brighter world, and explains to him how it may
be his own. It originates no new form of disease; dips the
arrow  of death in no new poison; creates no new  darkness
around the grave; robs the sufferer of no consolation, and creates
no new danger. Then why, oh why should he go away?




SERMON V.
THE IMPORTANCE OF MAN.
PSALM viii. 3, 4 —" When I consider thy heavens, the work of thy fingers,
the moon and the stars, which thou hast ordained; what is man, that thou
art mindful of him? and the son of man, that thou visitest him?"
Tins language is such as would have been prompted at any
period of the world by a contemplation of the starry heavens.
Even to the naked eye, they are so vast and grand that man
dwindles into insignificance in comparison with them, and it
seems wonderful that God should stoop from the contemplation
of works so sublime to notice the affairs of a creature like man.
The language of the Bible is adapted by the Spirit of inspiration to express the emotions of piety in all ages; and though in
the time of the psalmist the language of the text was fitted to
express the feelings of deep devotion, yet two circumstances
have contributed to give it in our times increased force and
significance.  One is, the greatly enlarged views which have
been obtained of those " heavens" contemplated by the psalmist,
by the discoveries of modern astronomy.  The other is, the
almost equal enlargement of conception of what God has done
for man, and of the importance attached to him in his estimation, in the disclosures of the plan of redemption. These have
not indeed entirely kept pace with each other, but together
they give a greatly increased significance to the language of my
text.  With all the disclosures of modern astronomy before
us, and in full view of what God has done for man in the work
of redemption, one may well say, " When I consider thy heavens,
the work of thy fingers, the moon and the stars, which thou hast
ordained; what is man, that thou art mindful of him P"
There are two somewhat opposite methods of estimating man,
both of them having much that is erroneous. One is, so to speak
of his godlike nature, his achievements in council, in arts, and
in science, his susceptibilities for progress, and the progress
which he has actually made, as to conceal the degradation of
his nature, and to fill him with pride and self-elation. This has
been much the manner of poets and philosophers; of the writers




THE IMPORTANCE OF MAN.                       59
of fiction, and of those systems of religion in which it is forgotten or denied that the race is in ruins. The other is, so to
dwell on the circumstances of his wretchedness and sinfulness,
on his foibles and crimes, and on the brevity of his life, and his
comparative insignificance among the sublime works of God, as
to make us feel that the race is wholly beneath the Divine
notice. This is the view of the disappointed, of the sour, of the
morose, of the haters of the species; and it is as far from  the
truth as the former.
Is there any way in which what is true in these views may
be united? Is there anything fitted to give us elevated conceptions of the dignity of man, and yet to clothe us with humility;
anything that makes man a proper object of special Divine
notice, and yet anything that makes us wonder that he has
attracted so much attention?  In answering these questions, I
may direct your attention to two points:I. In what way God has magnified man, or shown that he
regards him as of special importance; and,
II. Why he has done it.
I. In what way has God nmagnfied man, or how has he shown
a special interest in hin?  My purpose, under this head, demands only a very brief statement-my main design being to
show why man has attracted so much attention in the universe,
as it is said in the Scriptures that he has.
What God has done for other portions of the universe we
have only slight means of knowing; and it is not important for
us to understand. Probably if we were admitted to a knowledge
of what he has done for intelligent beings in other worlds, we
should find proofs of his care and attention not less striking
than those which are exhibited in our own.  But, for obvious
reasons, revelation is silent in regard to them.
The peculiar interest which has been shown in man-the
interest apart from that which he has shown in creation and
providence towards all intelligent creatures-according to the
sacred Scriptures, consists in the following things:(1.) A plan of redemption has been formed for him.  This
was laid far back in eternity, and was contemplated fiom  far
distant ages. This plan, according to the sacred Scriptures, was
one of special interest to the Divine Mind, and in  accomplishing it, God was willing to institute a train of measures
elsewhere unknown, and submit to sacrifices which to us would
have been deemed impossible.  According to that plan, he designed to make on the earth one of the most sublime manifestations of his glory, and to perform  a work here that should




60               THE WAY OF SALVATION.
interest in a peculiar manner the inhabitants of all other worlds,
"to the intent that now unto the principalities and powers in
heavenly places might be known, by the church, the manifold
wisdom of God," Ephes. iii. 10.
(2.) For man, in the execution of that purpose, he sent his
Son to become incarnate, and to die. Such was the interest
which he felt in our race; so much has he magnified man, that
a work has been performed which requires the highest measure
of our faith to believe it true now that it has been done, and
which we should have deemed incredible or impossible, could it
have been submitted beforehand to our sense of probability.  It
resulted in the formation of a perfect union between the Divine
and human nature in the person of the Son of God, and in his
sacrifice as an offcring for the sin of the world on a cross. This
event stands by itself.  There is no reason to suppose that a
transaction of this nature has occurred in any other part of the
universe. The more we contemplate it, the more we are amazed;
and the more impressively does the question come home to us,
" What is man," that such a plan should be formed for his redemption? It overpowers us. The mind sinks under the burden
of the great conception that there should have been an incarnation of the Deity; that that incarnate Being should submit to be
reviled and treated with scorn; and that he should, by his own
sufferings and death, make expiation for human guilt. What is
there in man that should lead such a being down to earth to
suffer, to bleed, to die?  Even in all our vain glorying; in all
that has been said of the godlike dignity of the human powers;
in all the dreams of philosophy and poetry about what man is,
or is to be, what is there that would seem to make it proper
that God should be thus " manifest in the flesh "  I wonder
not that men pause with amazement, and hesitate before they
admit the great idea to be true; nor that they feel tasked, and
burdened, and overpowered by the claim  which Christianity
makes on their faith in the announcement of this truth.
(3.) For man the Spirit of God is sent down to the earth. He
comes to enlighten, to arouse, to awaken, to renew, to sanctify.
Of so much importance is man, that this Great Agent begins a
special work in the heart of each one that is to be saved, and
performs the distinct and definite achievement of changing the
current of feeling, and the principles of the soul. He is the chief
and the crown of all those agencies and influences intended to
bring man back to God, and win him to heaven.  A train of
means has been employed designed to arrest his attention; to
convict him of sin; to convert his soul; to open his eyes on the




THE IMPORTANCE OF MAN.                    61
fields of heavenly glory; to send the current of spiritual life
through the heart dead in transgression; to awaken the consciousness of an immortal nature in the lost soul; to make of
the alien a friend-of the apostate an heir of heaven.  As if
there were some special importance in recovering man; as if his
restoration would be worth all which it would cost in the institution
of the most numerous and expensive measures, a train of operations
has been commenced, all expressive of the intensest interest in
the Divine Mind, for the accomplishment of this result. Why
is this?  Why does He who made and who rules these vast
heavens feel so deep an interest in the recovery of a creature
like man?
(4.) For man, we are told, there is intense interest felt among
the inhabitants of heaven. There is joy among the angels over
one sinner that repenteth. They, we are told, desire to look
into the things connected with redemption; and the entire sacred
history leads us to believe that celestial beings have been ready
at all times to wing their way to the earth to watch the progress made in redemption; to relieve the wretched, and to comfort the dying; and that they hail with fresh rapture the coming
of each ransomed spirit to the skies. Though man is insignificant in himself, yet there is somehow such an importance
attached to him that angelic beings are willing for a season to
vacate their happy seats if they can be helpers of his salvation.
(5.) God manifestly attaches great importance to each individual of the species. No matter how ignorant, or poor, or downtrodden he may be, the Divine dealings have an individuality
in relation to him as if he were the only dweller upon earth.
God never overlooks him. He sends his messengers of mercy to
him-his prophets, apostles, and ministers of religion; he repeats
the message when rejected, and urges it upon his attention with
all the arguments which can be adduced-as though it were a
matter of immense moment that he should repent, believe, and
be saved. When we look upon enfeebled age, or upon a child;
when we contemplate the downtrodden and ignorant tribes that
dwell upon the earth-many of them but little above the brutes;
when we see how frail and helpless man is at the best, and
how soon he will vanish away, and his name be forgotten; and
then, when we look up at these heavens in the light of modern
astronomy, we can hardly help asking, as the psalmist did,
"What is man, that thou art mindful of him?" Why does God
treat him  as if he were of so much consequence    Of what
importance can it be to God where his location shall be? Why
does he follow him so constantly, and why does he so earnestly




62              THE WAY OF SALVATION.
press upon him compliance with the terms of his favour?  In
one word, why is this vast array of plan and motive, and eternal
decree, and celestial influences, and heavenly interest, and solemn
mandate, and fearful threatening, brought to bear on a frail, erring,
dying, evanescent creature like man?
II. These questions it is my design, in the second place, to
answer.  I shall suggest four considerations in answer to the
inquiry. They will show the importance of man, but they will
be such as will be adapted to humble us. They will be fitted to
avoid the self-glorifying of the philosopher-showing that the
importance of man arises, in the main, from causes which should
have any effect rather than to inflate us with pride; and they
will be such as to avoid the other extreme of regarding man as
so degraded and so unworthy of notice, as to leave on the
mind, in the contemplation of him, the feeling of contempt or
misanthropy.
(1.) I observe, first, that the attention which God bestows on
man is in strict accordance with his universal providential care.
In his empire, nothing is overlooked; nothing is forgotten. The
Redeemer has told us that not a sparrow falls to the ground
without his notice, and that even the hairs of the head are all
numbered. Everything is treated as if it were of consequence;
everything shares in the superintendence of the Most High.
There is not an insect or a blade of grass whose structure does
not appear as perfect as though the whole of the Divine wisdom
had been exhausted to form it; there is not a rose that is not
made with as nice a degree of attention and skill as though God
had nothing else to do; there is not an emerald or an amethyst
that does not seem to have combined all there is in infinite
wisdom in its formation. The leaf; the flower; the particle of
blood; the dewdrop; the forming crystal of the snow-all, taken
singly, appear to be objects of special Divine attention, as if each
were the solitary production of the infinitely wise and powerful
God.  We know  not, we cannot conceive how this is.  We
become soon distracted with the very few objects that pass under
our notice. We narrow down those that demand our attention;
and from necessity pass over the infinitude of objects that are
around us. We cannot conceive how it is that any one Being
can direct his attention to countless millions of things at the
same time:-at the same instant holding worlds and systems in
their place; restraining the raging floods of the deep; directing
the lightning; controlling armies engaged in the conflict of
battle; and with gentle hand in the summer morning opening
the rosebud, and at silent evening letting down the dewdrop on




THE IMPORTANCE OF MAN.                       63
the spire of grass.  Yet so it is; and such is God. And when
we speak of the importance of man as evinced by the Divine
care and attention, you are to remember the care that is bestowed
on the poor worm on which you tread, as well as yourself; the
care bestowed on the shaking leaf, as well as on the rolling
world.
(2.) The second reason to which I refer is, that man, in his
immortal nature, is a being who has all the importance which
has ever been attributed to him.  He has an intrinsic worth
that renders proper all the care that God has shown for him;
all the interest manifested for him in the eternal councils of
heaven; all the value implied in the incarnation and atonement
of the Redeemer for his salvation. Great as has been the sacrifice
made for him on the cross; inconceivable as were the sufferings
of the Son of God in his behalf, his salvation is worth all which
it has cost, and will be an adequate and ample return to the
Redeemer for all his pangs, and toils, and blood: for "he shall
see of the fruit of his wearisome toil, and shall be satisfied,"
Isa. liii. 11.*  The Redeemer estimated man as of unspeakable
value. He regarded his recovery as worth all which he would
endure in becoming incarnate, and dying on the cross.  The
glory which the ransomed sinner would have in heaven, and the
honour thence resulting to the Saviour, he deemed of sufficient
worth to induce him to leave the heavens and to die. It is for
the honour of Christ that we should feel and know that redemption is worth all which it has cost; and that the scheme of
recovery is one that is based on a just view of the relative importance of things.  The price, indeed, was infinite.  Silver,
gold, diamonds, pearls, all the treasures  of kings, do not
furnish us with the means of estimating its value. The blood
of patriots, of prophets, of martyrs, of confessors, scarcely furnishes us with the means of comparison by which to measure
the worth of the blood shed by the Redeemer.  Still we hold
that the Redeemer sought a prize in the redemption of man
worth all which it cost him, and which will "satisfy" him for
all his humiliation and toils.
Do you ask what was that prize? I reply, It was the immortal
soul. Its value is estimated by the fact that man, so degraded,
so sinful, so blind, so lost to his own interests, is IMMORTAL.
Men see not this, nor feel it, for they will not be convinced that
they are immortal, or that the soul is to have an infinite duration beyond the grave.  Were you to be thrown into a dungeon
- Lowth's translation.




64                THE WAY OF SALVATION.
on earth, to live and linger on for ever in darkness, yon would
realize something of what constitutes immortality. If in that
gloomy dungeon, nor father, nor mother, nor sister were to see
you more; if the light of heaven were to greet you no more; if
sleep were to visit your eyes no more; if harsh sounds and
groans were to grate for ever and ever on your ears; if neither
cord, nor pistol, nor assassin's hand, nor murderous phial could
close your conscious being, you might form some idea of what
it is to live for ever and ever.
To be immortal!  The very moment you attach the idea of
imnortality to a thing, no matter how insignificant it may be
otherwise, that moment you invest it with unspeakable importance. Nothing can be mean and unworthy of notice which is
to exist for ever. An eternal rock, an eternal tree, plant, river,
would impress our minds with the idea of vast sublimity, and
make us feel that we were contemplating an object of unspeakable moment. Affix, then, to it the idea of eternal consciousness,
though of the lowest order, and the mind is overwhelmed. The
little humming-bird that in a May morning poises itself over the
opening honeysuckle in your garden, and which is fixed a
moment and then is gone, is lovely to the eye, but we do not
attach to it the idea of great importance in the scale of being.
But attach to that now  short-lived beautiful visitant of the
garden the word IMMIORTALITY-and you invest it at once with
an unspeakable dignity. Let it be confinedfor ever in a cageor let it start off on rapid wing never to tire or faint beyond
the orbit of Neptune, or where the comet flies, or where Sirius
is fixed in the heavens, to continue its flight when the heavens
shall vanish away, and though with most diminutive consciousness of being, you make it an object of the deepest interest.
The little, lonely, fluttering, eternal wanderer! The beautiful
little bird on an. undying wing, among the stars! Who can
track its way?  What shall we think of its solitariness and
eternal homelessness?-What, then, shall we think of an immortal
soul?  A soul to endure for ever! A soul to which is attached
all that is meant by the word ETERNITY! A soul capable of
immortal happiness or pain!-My careless, thoughtless reader,
that soul, immortal and eternal, is yours.  You feel it not.
I was about to say you know it not. But Christ knew it, and
felt it; and hence he came and died. The stamp, the seal of
eternity is on you-and you must live for ever. And is your
redemption not worth his death-not worth more than all these
material suns and stars?  Christ felt this when he said, " What
shall it profit a man, though he gain the whole world, and lose his




THIE IMPORTANCE OF MAN                     65
own soul?" And when we think of its immortality, and attempt to
track its wondrous way on its eternal journey, we find an answer to
that which so much perplexed the psalmist:-" When I consider
thy heavens, the work of thy fingers, the moon and the stars,
which thou hast ordained; what is man, that thou art mindful
of him P"
(3.) Man is of peculiar importance as a guilty being. He has
sinned; and has thus exalted himself into a melancholy notoriety
such as he might never otherwise have had. A transgressor of
law, no matter where, becomes at once a being of importance.
A thousand questions are at once asked in reference to him
which it would not have occurred to have asked if he had not
sinned, and which would have been impertinent and improper if
he had remained upright.  A man who commits murder, becomes
at once one who attracts attention. Before he did this, he may
have been unknown; he may have been a stranger; he may
have been a down-trodden slave; but the moment he imbrues
his hands in the blood of his fellow, that moment the eyes of
the community are turned towards him with the deepest interest.
His name is gazetted and blazoned abroad; his person is
described; his former course of life becomes a subject of interesting history; his feelings, views, destiny, all become a matter of
consequence. A mark on his person is exalted into a thing of
importance, and his death will attract the attention of thousands.
His melancholy conspicuity he owes to his guilt; and but for
that, he might have lived and died unknown. This would be
more especially true, if the crime were one committed against a
prince, a nobleman, a benefactor of his species, or the saviour of
his country. To what a degree of importance would the lowest
man in our country have exalted himself if he had assassinated
La Fayette or Washington -A vessel may cross and recross
oceans, and attract almost no attention. Her coming and going
shall be recorded only among the numbers that are alike
undistinguished.  But let it be rumoured that she was fitted out
with knives, and dirks, and pistols, and guns, and that she has
hoisted a false flag, and all at once she rises into conspicuity.
The world begins to feel an interest in her as she roams on
the ocean, and in all that pertains to her. Everything relating
to her course, her colour, her form, her complement of men,
becomes a matter of the deepest concern, and a nation feels
that her capture is worthy of its attention. Her importance
arises from the criminal intention, and the purpose to make war
on the peaceful commerce of the world.-A child in a family
that has done wrong at once attracts peculiar attention, and




66              THE WAY OF SALVATION.
many a question is asked in the little community of which he is
a member. Every eye is turned toward him. What will be the
consequence of his offence? is the immediate inquiry. Will he be
punished? Will his father forgive? A train of deeply interesting emotions also at once passes through the bosom  of the
distressed and afflicted parent. His attention is diverted from
his other children to the offender. Can he safely pardon him?
If not, what is the kind and measure of punishment which will
be necessary? How can he so dispose of the painful occurrence
as to secure the observance of his laws hereafter, and to turn
the affair to good account in the government of his other
children? The guilt of the offender has given him temporary
and painful consequence in that circle, and has attracted towards
him a degree of attention which but for that would never have
been excited.
Such is man —one of the apostate children of the great family
of God. Not having any peculiar claims to the Divine notice
and attention from his original dignity and importance; not
being of rank superior to other intelligences, he has raised himself into notice among immortal beings, as Richard III., and
Cesar Borgia, and the Duke of Alva did among mortals, by guilt
more than by talent; by eminence in crime, more than by
exalted rank. He has, by his apostasy, given occasion to many a
question of deep interest in regard to him which could never
have been asked had he not revolted, and is raised to this bad
eminence by his rebellion against the Most High. And though
man is but the creature of a day, and crushed before the moth,
yet when we look upon the numbers of the guilty-upon the
aggravated nature of their crimes-the apostasy of a world as
such-one entire province of the mighty empire,-we are not to
wonder that they have attracted attention in heaven, and that
great questions are pending there about the disposition which
shall be made of the rebel race.-The importance of man now
arises in no small degree fiom the fact that he is a sinner. We
do not excite notice in heaven by our talent or learning; by our
skill or accomplishments; byourbeauty or strength. We can never
make our names known there by our eloquence, our valour, our
wealth. We are known as guilty men; as wanderers; as criminals;
as having foolishly and wickedly gone away from God, and as
being in rebellion against the Most High. It is the eminence
of guilt, the fame of depravity, the notoriety of rebellion that
distinguishes us in other worlds; and though we have become
of so much importance as to attract attention there, yet the fact
is one fitted not to fill us with pride, but to sink us low in the




THE IMPORTANCE OF MAN.                     67
dust. It is true that the remark now made miglit be made of
rebel angels, and would be correct in regard to them, and that
this would SEEM to be a reason as strong in their case why they
should be objects of special Divine notice as in ours-and so
they may be in their own way, or in some method that shall as
clearly show that the Divine attention is directed to them as if
a plan of redemption had been provided for them: but there
may have been reasons unknown to us, why the Divine notice
of them  as guilty was not manifested in the same way as
towards us-that is, why they should not be redeemed.
(4.) Man is of importance as a sfferer; as actually now a
sufferer; and as being exposed to deep and prolonged sorrows
in the future world. A sufferer is always a being of importances,
no matter what may be the cause of his woes. That interest is
in proportion to the tenderness of the ties which bind him to
others, or to the benevolence of those by whom he is surrounded.
Who is the object of deepest interest in the family?  Who is
the one around whom  most anxieties cluster? Look on that
little afflicted daughter. All are ready to do anything for her;
to carry her, to fan her, to bathe her temples, to watch with
her during the long night. The reason is, simply, that she is a
sufferer. She has now an importance, and attracts a degree of
attention, which she could never have done had she lived in the
enjoyment of health. Her pains, her sighs, her fading cheek,
her sunken eye, exalt her into importance; and when she dies,
you regard her as the most lovely of your children, and feel for
the moment that you have laid your pride and your hopes in the
grave.
It matters little-though I admit it does something-what is
the cause of suffering, whether it be misfortune or guilt. The
son that has been dissipated, and that lies on a bed of death as
the result of his folly, is not cut off from our sympathy by his
crimes. And especially if he has been led into temptation by
others; if by their arts he has been seduced from virtue, our
interest is excited in his behalf, perhaps not less than if he were
innocent. Rare is it, if it ever happens, that a mother's heart is
cold and repellant towards a suffering daughter, though she has
been frail, and led away by a seducer.
If suffering is long, or is likely to be long, the importance of
the sufferer is proportionally increased.  Attach the idea of
eternal suffering to anything, and you at once exalt it into
unspeakable magnitude. It matters not how insignificant the
sufferer may be, the idea of its suffering for ever gives it a
magnitude which words can never express. Allow me to advert




68              THE WAY OF SALVATION.
to my former simple illustration-the case of the little beautiful humming-bird. Suppose it-small as it is-transfixed with
a tiny dart, and yet deathless; suppose the little arrow to pierce
its heart, and the death struggle to continue on till the heavens
shall waste away and the earth be no more, and then that it be
removed to a place where it would struggle on with the quivering dart fixed there for ever-what would you not do to rescue
such a sufferer? Tell me, ye rich and benevolent men, would
you not give the last cent of your property to extract that tiny
dart, and make that little beautiful being happy? What then
is man, immortal man, if he is destined to eternal suffering
unless redeemed? Why should we wonder that such a being
becomes an object of interest in heaven; why that the angels
regard him with emotion; why that the Redeemer came to die
for him; why that God looks upon him with intensest feeling?
No words can estimate the importance of man exposed to infinite
suffering in the future world; and nothing but the fact that he
is a sufferer here, and that he is in danger of eternal suffering
in the world to come, is necessary to solve the question in the
text:-" When I consider thy heavens, the work of thy fingers,
the moon and the stars, which thou hast ordained; what is man,
that thou art mindful of him P"  How could a benevolent God
but be mindful of one who might suffer for ever?
In view of our subject, I may suggest the following remarks:1. We may see the propriety and fitness of the plan of salvation by the incarnation and death of the Son of God. It was
indeed amazing. It seems almost to surpass the limits of possibility that it should have occurred. Yet when we think of what
man is; of his own immortal nature; of his magnitude of guilt;
of the severity and duration of suffering due to him as a sinner;
and of the numbers of the guilty and the dying, it is impossible
to over-estimate his importance among the creatures of God.
All about our subject is great. God is great; and the human
soul is great. The plans of God are great; and the interests of
man are great. The incarnation of the Son of God was great;
and the object for which it took place was great. His sufferings
and his agony for sin were great; and the sorrows of hell. from
which he came to redeem  us were great. There is a fitness
between the one and the other; and great as were the pangs of
Jesus Christ, I see in the whole plan that beautiful harmony
which I delight to trace in all the ways and works of God.
" The redemption of the soul is precious."  It is worth all which
it has cost. The gain to the universe is to be an ample compensation for all those sufferings; and when the Redeemer shall see




THE IMPORTANCE OF MAN.                      69
all the purchased of his blood around his throne, he will not feel
that in the garden of Gethsemane, or on Calvary, he endured
one pang too much.
2. Our subject should teach us humility.  Insignificant as
creatures when compared with angelic beings, and infinitely so
when compared with the great God, we have exalted ourselves
into melancholy conspicuity by our guilt, and by our exposure
to suffering as the result of our guilt. Distinguished though
we are, and though we attract notice and attention from  the
heavenly hosts, yet the effect on us should be anything but to
make us proud. Our crimes magnify us; but it is not a matter
of self-exaltation when guilt attracts attention, and when the
principal claim  to notice is criminality.  Though the gospel,
therefore, reveals the interest which is felt in us by distant
beings, it does it in such a way as not to fill us with pride; it
does it so that the cardinal virtue in our bosoms which it produces is humility.  And when you are in danger of being
proud that God and Christ and holy angels feel a deep interest
in you, and that for you an eternal plan has been formed, and
for you the Son of God has become incarnate, remember that it
was your crimes that attracted this attention, and that your
peril on account of sin moved heaven to notice you. Go and see
the crowd gather towards the cell of the pirate, or the throng
that accompanies the man on the way to the block, and forget
your pride.
3. If so much interest is manifested for man; if heaven is
moved with compassion on his behalf; if angels look down with
deep anxiety, solicitous to aid and save him, we cannot but be
struck with the indifference of man himself to these great truths.
Of all beings he is usually most unconcerned in the great events
that contemplate his salvation, or that hasten his ruin. His eye
is not attracted by the glories of the incarnation; nor does he
feel alarmed at the preparations for his final woe. Much I have
meditated on this; and much I have wondered at it, and still
wonder. I have sought out arguments and words to rouse those
whom  I am  called to address; but usually in vain. I can
scarcely get the ear, or the eye-much less the heart-to contemplate the amazing interest felt in heaven based on man's
guilt; those wonders of compassion in the cross that was reared
that man might be saved.  I see a parallel to it sometimes on
earth-but where my philosophy equally fails me-in the guilty
wretch about to die for his crimes, himself the most thoughtless
of the throng, and with the utmost coolness walking up to the
instrument of death, while every other heart shudders. Why it




70              THE WAY OF SALVATION.
is, I know not, I cannot explain it. But our subject makes
yet another appeal to you.  There is interest felt for you in
heaven-in God's bosom-in the Redeemer's heart. There was
interest felt for you in the eternal plan which contemplated
redemption. There was interest felt for you on the plains of
Bethlehem, when the angelic host sang "  Glory to God in the
highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men." There was
interest felt for you in the garden of Gethsemane, and on the
cross. There is interest felt for you still. Your God desires
your salvation. Your Redeemer desires it. Your pious wife
desires it. Your Christian daughter desires it. Your child that
is a Christian desires it. All feel your danger but yourself.
All pray for your salvation but yourself. All eyes but your own
weep when they survey your eternal doom.
(4.) Finally, our subject shows us that the sinner cannot
escape the notice of God. His sins have given him  a bad
eminence, and he will not be forgotten. " There is no darkness
nor shadow of death where the workers of iniquity can hide
themselves."  He that has sought the redemption of the guilty
by giving his Son to die, will not suffer him to escape if he
neglects it. Sin makes the rebel of too much importance in a
government like that of God; and the offender cannot escape.
Human penalty you may escape. You may have never deserved
it. But the penalty of the Divine law cannot be evaded; nor
can the sinner plead his own insignificance when he stands
before his Maker. Insignificant a man may have been till he
became a murderer-but not then, nor ever onwards. Insignificant you may be as a creature, bat never henceforward as a
sinner.
I know, my hearer, that you and I shall die and moulder back
to dust. I know that your name and mine will soon be forgotten
among men. The traces of our existence on earth will be like
the marks in the sand on the sea-shore which the next wave
washes away. Yet we shall not be altogether forgotten.  One
Eye will be upon us; and we cannot escape it. There is One
who will remember us, and who will never forget us. Dyingdeathless man! What is to be your doom beyond the grave?
Oh, think one moment, I beseech you, what it will be to live for
ever; to suffer for ever; to be driven away for ever from God,
and from heaven!-And then think what it would be to live
for ever in heaven-for ever, for ever, oh, for ever, amid the
songs of redeeming love-to have to all eternity the importance
attached to you of being among the redeemed, and of being
admitted nearer the throne than you might have been had you




THE IMPORTANCE OF MAN.                       71
never fallen.  Then, when you shall see these heavens rolled
together as a scroll, and the stars fall from their places, and the
light of this sun fade away; then, when you see a bright and
glorious eternity before you, you will understand in its fulness
the subject which so much perplexed the psalmist, why such
importance was attached to man. Redeemed in those heavens,
and for ever blessed, what will be the fading  and dying
splendours of all those material worlds compared with the bliss
of your own ransomed soul P
6




SERMON VI.
THE EARTHI  A PLACE OF PROBATION.
ACTS Xvii. 26, 27. —"And hath made of one blood all nations of men for
to dwell on all the face of the earth, and hath determined the times before
appointed, and the bounds of their habitation; that they should seek the
Lord, if haply they might feel after him, and find him."
THIS passage teaches the following things: First, that men
have a common origin, being made of one blood or family, and
having the same Creator; and, therefore, that notwithstanding
their diversity of language, of complexion, and condition, they
are essentially equal, and have equal rights.  Secondly, that
God is a sovereign, and has fixed the various habitations of men
according to his own pleasure, and as he saw would be best
fitted to subserve the ends which he had in view in the creation
of the race.  And, thirdly, that the grand design for which they
were made, and for which they have been distributed as they
have been over the earth, was, that they might seek after the
knowledge of their Creator; trace the evidence of his existence,
and learn the character of his attributes in his works.  He
designed that the earth should be occupied by moral and responsible agents; and to the different branches of the one great
family he has fixed the bounds of their dwelling; ordained the
periods and the circumstances of their changes, and so arranged
all things in regard to them  as best to determine the question
whether they are disposed to seek after him, and to serve him.
This is equivalent to saying that they have been placed here on
probation with reference to the knowledge, the service, and the
favour of God; and that the circumstances of their probation
have been intentionally arranged by the Creator with reference
to that end.  The general sentiment of the text then is, that the
earth is fitted to be a place of probation. This sentiment I
propose to illustrate.
The conjecture-for it can be little more than conjecture-is
not improbable that all the intelligent creatures of God pass
through a period of probation.  It is in this world, as far as our
eye can trace events, a universal law in regard to all advancement to a higher degree of existence; and the analogy would




THE EARTH  A PLACE OF PROBATION.                    73
lead us to suppose that it is so in regard to all moral agents.
Yet the mode of this may be different in different worlds. It
must be adapted to the rank, the intellectual endowments, and
the degree of light of the individual, or of the race that is to
be tried.  It may have been one thing for the angels; another
for the inhabitants of distant worlds; and another still for man.
In all, however, the grand purpose is the same-to furnish evidence, by proper trial, of a disposition to obey the will of God.
In man at first the trial was made with reference to his willingness, in obedience to the command of his Maker, to abstain from
a specified kind of fruit; in man now the same trial is made
with reference to a law, or test, adapted to his fallen condition.
Probation on earth is a common thing. Every child is on probation in respect to what he will be in subsequent life; every youth
in respect to the rewards of health, property, office, or honour,
which the world may have to bestow; every student of divinity,
law, or medicine; every clerk, or apprentice; every aspirant for
office, in regard to the degree of esteem which he may have in
the pulpit, of reputation at the bar, or in the practice of medicine,
or of glory which may encircle his name when death comes.
The world does not bestow its rewards except when there has
been a trial.  It does not commonly withhold them  when the
result of the trial has shown that the rewards were deserved.
In a college, it is contemplated that he who shall receive the
first appointment in his class, shall obtain it as the result of a
fair trial or probation; in the learned professions, that he who
shall bear the palm shall have shown that he was entitled to it;
in respect to subsequent life, that he shall be most honoured
who in the trying junctures that test the character shall have
shown that he resisted temptation, and adhered to the laws of
virtue; in the bestowment of the offices in a commonwealth,
that no one shall receive them but he who has shown in appropriate situations that he has an established character for ability,
patriotism, and virtue.  If there are departures in any case from
these principles, they are departures from what is admitted to
be the true theory of the system.
It is essential to probation, in all cases, that there shall be
freedom  to act as we please; that the test applied shall be
adapted to our capacity; that the conditions on which it depends
shall be known, or such as may be easily ascertained; that the
inducements to virtue shall be sufficiently strong to excite us to
an effort to secure the reward; and yet that there shall be sufficient exposures to a contrary course to show that we are disposed
to resist evil.  He who has never resisted the temptations to




o41     T    THE WAY OF SALVATION.
indolence, vice, ambition, avarice, or sensuality, cannot be said
yet to have a tried character for virtue.  He who has never
been in circumstances where he was called to decide whether he
would be temperate or intemperate; industrious or indolent;
pure or impure; a patriot or a traitor; a companion of the good
or the evil-if there could be such a case-could not be said to
be tried. He knows not what he is. He knows not what he
might be in some new situation.  He cannot be said to be in a
state where it would be appropriate to reward him.
The question now is, if these are the conditions of probation,
what arrangements are there in this world to adapt it to be a
suitable place of trial for eternity? Are there things here which
contemplate this, and which can be accounted for on no other
supposition?  Are they wisely arranged P  Can we find in them
the hand of a Father contemplating our own welfare, and adapting
us to the world, and the world to us, in such a way as best to
promote the grand object of a probation for a future state? AWe
repine and murmur much at our lot; we wonder often at the
mingling of light and shade, and good and evil, in our condition. Let us inquire whether, with reference to the great purposes of our being, we cannot find matter for hope, contentment,
adoration, and praise.
I. The first thing that occurs to us as suggesting the idea of
probation is, the unsettled state of things in this world. Nothing
seems fixed, determined, ended.  Everything  looks forward.
Light struggles with darkness; truth with error; good with
evil; happiness with misery.  There is no place of sunshine
which may not be soon overshadowed with a cloud; no smooth
sea where there may not be a hidden rock, or a whirlpool near;
no highway that man travels where there are not paths branching
off that lead astray; no plan in the "full tide of successful experiment" which may not be blighted; no reward that man can
gain that seems fixed and abiding.
This is a remarkable world, and is probably unlike all the
others that God has made.  It is a most beautiful world, which,
after all that sin has done, has still many of the features of
the Eden where man first dwelt.  The sun, for anything that
appears to the contrary, shines as bright as it did then; the
moon and the stars are as beautiful; the stream purls as gently;
the ocean is as grand, and the rose and the magnolia are as
fragrant.  Man, if he were himself to select a place of probation,
could not well imacgine a world more full of beauty than thisfor most of his ideas of beauty are drawn from this very earth.
It is a world replete with proofs of the wisdom and the goodness




THE EARTH  A PLACE OF PROBATION.                  75
of God; and whatever there may be in other worlds, here are
depths of skill and benevolence which none have been able to
fathom, and which seem as inexhaustible now as they did when
the first created being bent with admiration over the beauty of
a flower, examined the structure of the insect's wing, or looked
upon the stars at night.
Yet how is all this intermingled with evil! There is darkness; there is sin; there is temptation; there are things that
fill the mind with perplexity and doubt; there are evil beings
as well as good abroad upon the earth, "both when we wake
and when we sleep;" there are enticements to wrong as well as
allurements to right; there are mighty means and influences to
draw the mind to virtue, and there are mighty means and influences to draw it to vice.
Everything is unsettled,-just as it must be in a state of probation. There is as vet no certain or fixed reward. There is no
crown which is unfading.  There are no title-deeds which can
make property sure. There is no happiness of whose continuance
there can be certainty.  Everything seems to partake much of
the nature of experiment or trial. The whole subject of medicine,
and finance, and agriculture, and mechanics, and even morals,
seems to have partaken much of this character.  Man is on
trial, and he is constantly maCking trial for the future.  Youth
is on trial for manhood, and manhood for old age, and one generation for the next; and all for eternity. In all conditions there
is a looking out of the human mind for the future.  At any one
stage of being there is an impatient longing for the next. There
is an instinctive feeling that the destiny of the next stage is to
be determined by the character of the present. And there is, in
all and above all this, an instinctive feeling that all these stages
on earth are preliminary to a higher, fixed stage beyond.  Man
is so made that he must look onward and upward, and must
feel that the eternal condition is to be determined by the character
formed in this life.
Then there is here a mingling together of influences friom
other worlds designed for the trial of man. There are seductive
influences to evil. There are fallen spirits that have access to
man.  There are powerful appeals which they are able to make
through our senses; by the objects of light, and taste, and touch;
by suggestions made to our desire of knowledge, our pride, our
vanity, our ambition; by the arts acquired by long experience
in temptation, and by the aids which they can derive from the
advocates of error, and the panders to guilt which they have
already enlisted under their banners. And on the other hand,




76               THE WAY OF SALVATION.
there are holy influences from above. There is the ministry and
the solicitude of angels.  There is the fact that the Son of God
became incarnate and died in our world to win and save us.
There is the ministration of the Holy Ghost to encourage those
who wish to be confirmed in goodness, and to reach the rewards
of heaven. There are the counsels and entreaties of the friends
of virtue; the instructions and pleadings of the ministers of a
holy religion; the admonitions of parents; the lessons of history
-all leading the mind to virtue and to God.  Such mingled
things show that this is a world of probation, or is designed to
try men with reference to what is to be their lot in the future
stage of their existence; and they at the same time show the
wisdom  and goodness of God in the arrangement. It is the
kind of a world which it should be, if it is designed as a place
of trial.  For what characteristics could it have as a world of
probation, if the sun were withdrawn, and the moon and the
stars shone no more, and no flower bloomed, and no Saviour had
died, and no sacred Spirit came to aid men, and there were no
living friends to help the weak and the ignorant on to God? What
if all the comforts which we have were withdrawn, and the earth
were converted into a dark prison, or were made a lurid meteor,
bearing its wretched inhabitants through chilly regions of night
farther and farther from  the sun?  It would then answer no
purpose as a world of probation.  See what the great prisonhouse of the universe, hell, is. Who has been reformed there?
Who has been prepared there for a higher stage of being?  See
what a prison is. Man shuts his fellow out from the light of
the sun, and the moon, and the stars.  He closes dark, massive
doors upon him. He takes him away fiom wife, and children,
and friends.  He clothes him in coarse raiment; feeds him on
coarse fare; spreads for him  a couch of straw; forbids him to
look upon the face of man; deprives him  of the balmy air;
guards him with unslumbering vigilance when lie wakles, or
when he sleeps, perchance, binds his quivering limbs in fetters
of iron. Who is made the better by this?  Who is reformed 
Who supposes that that would be an appropriate place of probation for a youth? PNone are reformed there-unless you can
introduce an independent influence of goodness and mercy-the
light of the glorious gospel-the voice of a friend of virtuethe offer of salvation-the hope of heaven.  And if God had
made this world as man makes his prisons, vain woiuld have been
the hope of securing a fair trial of what man is or might be, or
of preparing hin for a higher stage of existence. But he has
not made it so. He has not attempted to drive man to the pursuit




THE EARTH  A PLACE OF PROBATION.                   77
of virtue or the performance of duty, by the clanking of fetters,
the sound of the lash, or the gloom  of a dungeon.  He has
another method.  He places man, though a sinner, in a world
apparently as beautiful as it can be made; surrounds him with
all that can appeal to his gratitude and his sense of right; tells
him of eternal love, and of infinite sacrifices in his behalf; sends
divine ministering spirits to aid him  in his efforts to secure
salvation; gives him  a Saviour; comes and dwells with him;
raises him up when he is bowed down; and, amidst his sorrows,
as he struggles with darkness and sin, points him to a world
where these struggles shall cease, and where there shall be no
intermingling of light and shade, but where all shall be a sea of
glory.  How different this from the clanking of fetters, and the
chilliness of a dungeon! A prison, as man makes it, is a different thing from this world as God has made, and as he preserves it.  The one is designed primarily as a place of pznishment, and all the arrangements for reformation are things superinduced; the other is primarily a place of probation, and all that
looks like punishment here is designed to contribute to the great
plan of preparing for the retributions of another state.
II. A second feature illustrating the condition of the world
as a state of probation is, that the offered reward-the inducement to good-is commensurate with such an object.  Here we
need not be detained long. The rewards proposed should always
be such as to constitute a fair probation.  They should be sufficient to a life of virtue.  The rewards of industry, soberness,
integrity, scholarship, proposed to a youth should be sufficient
to be a reasonable stimulus, or to make them worth striving for.
They are so in the present life-even if there were no bearing
of these things on the life to come. Apart from every consideration drawn from another world-real or imaginary-the rewards
which may be secured in this world by early virtue and industry
are worth all which they cost.  Take one instance as an illustration of the whole.  The influence of diligence in the acquisition
of knowledge by a student on his future happiness, if his life is
spared, is worth all which it will cost him to make the highest
attainments possible. The effect in giving him a desirable reputation, to which no virtuous and sensible man will be indifferent;
the effect in gratifying his friends; the effect in introducing him
into successful and prosperous business; and the effect in opening
before him rich sources of enjoyment in the hours of leisure, and
in old age-an effect so often and so beautifully described by
Cicero when speaking of philosophy-are ample rewards for
all the sacrifice which is required in order to be a good scholar.




78               THE WAY OF SALVATION.
The same remarks may be made of everything good in regard
to which a young man may be considered to be on probation.
Is this so: in regard to the rewards proposed to man considered as on probation for eternity? Open your Bibles; or cast
the eye upward and onward, and see whether the rewards proposed are not commensurate with the highest measure of sacrifice,
and self-denial, and holiness on earth. What could be beyond
these?  What higher offering of reward could stimulate man to
pursue that course which will be connected with the eternal
crown?  It may be doubted by some, but with those who have
made the trial it will not be a matter of doubt, whether virtue
and religion do not carry their own rewards with them; and
whether if there were no future state whatever, there would not
be an ample recompense for all that religion costs a man on
earth.  This can hardly be questioned in regard to the peace,
and happiness, and joy, of a self-approving conscience when
virtue is subjected to no extraordinary trial. Many a man finds
within his own bosom an ample recompense for what a deed of
charity costs him; and it is not to be doubted that Howard felt
himself abundantly repaid for all the property which he expended, and all the time which he devoted, to alleviate the
condition of the prisoners; and that Wilberforce and Clarkson,
when it could be said that the moment any person trod the
soil of England he was free, found an ample recompense for
their extraordinary toils, in securing this result. But the assertion, though it may be deemed extravagant by many, may be
nevertheless true, that even Paul and Silas in the prison at
Philippi, and Bunyan in a British dungeon, and Latimer and
Ridley at the stake, MiAY have enjoyed even there a degree of
holy joy which they would have regarded as an ample compensation for all that they had been called to endure in the cause
of religion.
But not to dwell on this.  The question which our subject
demands to be answered is this: —Are the rewards proffered to
men in heaven such as it is proper should be offered to those in
a state of probation to induce them  to walk in the ways of
religion?  Are they such as fairly to put man on his trial, and
to be all the inducement of this kind which can be reasonably
asked to lead himl to be what he should be?  The only answer
that is needful here is, that the rewards offered to man as the
result of a successful probation are the highest that man call
himself conceive. They are the crown incorruptible; immortality;
a resurrection to glory; perfect freedom from sin, pain, and tears;
the highest happiness, and the purest friendship, and the most




THE EARTH  A PLACE OF PROBATION.                 79
exalted intelligence and moral worth of which our nature is
capable, and all this continued for ever.  When you have
affixed the idea of immortality or eternity to anything which
is regarded as a good, you have gone to the utmost limit which
the human mind is capable of conceiving. If man will not. be
won by tlhat to a life of virtue, what is there to influence him P
Beyond this, it is not poscible to conceive that even God himself
can go. What can even He offer more?.11. It is equally true that there are sufficient exposures or
solicitations to evil to determine what the character is, and in
all respects to fit this to be a world of probation. No confidence
is to be placed in untried character. We want some evidence
which will enable us to judge how a young man will act before
we admit him to form a matrimonial connexion with a daughter;
before we entrust him  with our keys; before we make him a
cashier in a bank, or a treasurer of the county or the commonwealth.  We wish to know how he has acted in circumstances
where men are liable to go astray, and where we know that the
integrity of many has shown itself too feeble to resist evil. Wre
would not lead him into temptation, nor would we place allurements to evil before him; but we wish him to have had some
experience in a world which we know to abound with temptations, and to see in what manner he meets them. We judge of
his virtue by the evidence that he has come unscathed from
scenes where many have fallen. If never tried, we know not
what he would be; if tried, and if the result has been successful,
we take him as a partner in our business, or admit him to our
friendship.
It will not be denied that this world has all the characteristics in this respect which can be considered proper in order to
a just probation. No one is compelled to do wrong; but there
are abundant exposures to evil to show whether man is disposed
to do right. It is a world sufficiently full of the allurements of
ambition, and gain, and sensuality, and vanity; sufficiently filled
with attractive crimes, and false opinions, and "evil men and
seducers" that wax worse and worse, to bring out everything
that there is in man, and show what his true character is, and
what he would be in other worlds.  It in fact answers the purpose.  The disposition of every man becomes tested before he
reaches the grave, nor does one who acts on this theatre of
being enter eternity in such a way that there can be any
reasonable doubt about his character.  Under the operation of
this principle of the Divine administration, Satan fell; Adam
fell; and millions have since fallen.  Youths, trained to other




80               THE WAY OF SALVATION.
things, fall to rise no more; men whose character was supposed
to be matured by long and steady virtue, under the influence of
some new form  of temptation, fall, and reveal what was the
secret character of the heart; clergymen supposed to be of tried
virtue are suffered to fall, disclosing, perhaps, a long career of
secret iniquity.  But it is not wrong that the test should be
applied. It was not wrong that it should be applied to Adam.
It is not wrong that it should be applied to a youth; an officer
of a bank; a candidate for a high office of the state; a minister
of the gospel, or man at large —considered as a probationer for
eternity.  If there is secret iniquity in the heart it is well that
it should be developed; and I do not see how we can conceive
of a world better fitted to show what man is, and yet furnishing
more helps to a virtuous life, than this.  If so, it is adapted to
be a state of probation.
IV. The conditions of trial are sufficiently plain and easy.
The conditions of trial should be adapted to the capacity. You
would not apply the same test to man and to angels; nor to a
child and to an aged and experienced statesman or financier. To
Adam a simple test was applied, perfectly easy to be complied
with; adapted to the condition of one who had just opened his
eyes upon a world of which as yet he knew nothing. Compare
that simple prohibition with the form  in which temptation
approached the Son of God (Matt. iv.), and the way in which
the virtue of the prospective Redeemer of the world was assailed.
The test was adapted to each.  The one fell; the other was
incorruptible, and there, after success in a greater or less degree
everywhere else, Satan was foiled.
It is essential to the trial that the test be adapted to the
capacity; that it be practicable to be complied with; that it
shall be such as to bring out the character.  It would be no
proper condition of probation for man to make his salvation
depend on his creating a world, or guiding the chariot of the
sun in the heavens, or directing the comet's flight, or converting
the sea into dry land; for all these are beyond any power with
which he is endowed.
What, then, is the point of probation for man now? The true
issue always is obedience to the will of God; the question is,
whether man is disposed to obey. This may be modified according
to circumstances.  In Adam  it related to the forbidden fruit.
Among the angels it may have been quite a different thing. In
man nowo it might have been perfect and uninterrupted compliance with the holy law of God through life; but who then
would be saved?   Or it might have been a pilgrimage to a




THE EARTH  A PI,ACE OF PROBATION.                    81
distant tomb; or the maceration of the body by fasts and vigils;
or a certain number of genuflexions; or the wearing of a garment
of a peculiar form  or colour.  Any one of these would have
answered some purpose  as a test, and however senseless or
stupid they might be in other respects, they would have illustrated the question whether man was disposed to obey.  But
none of these things are chosen; and it would be easy to show
that none of them would be adapted to the condition of man as
he is on trial for eternity.
What, then, is man to do in order that his probation may be
successful?  He is perpetually doing something, and every man
has his own views as to what constitutes the real nature of the
trial.  One makes it to consist in a form of religion; another in
a pilgrimage; another in fastings; another in honesty; another
in kindness to the poor; another in the upright discharge of his
duties as a merchant, a bank officer, a father, or a friend.  He
stakes his eternal destiny on the manner in which these duties
are discharged.  What is the truth about it P
Our text says that the substantial point of trial is, whether
men will " feel after God and find him;" that is, whether they
will seek to know him, and to become practically acquainted
with him; for " this is life eternal, to know thee the true God, and
Jesus Christ whom thou hast sent," John xvii. 3.  In the Bible,
the true issue is always put on such a ground as this.  It is to
know  whether man will seek for, and return to his Maler;
whether he will embrace the instruction which God gives, and
accept that Great Teacher as his guide who alone can lead back
to God; whether man, regarded as an apostate being, will cease
from  his wanderings, give up his opposition, and return to his
Creator; whether he will surrender his heart to the claims of
him who made him; lay down the weapons of his rebellion;
accept of the pardon proffered through the merits of the Redeemer, and thenceforward yield obedience to the holy law  of
his God.  You will perceive, then, that this makes the issue of
a peculiar character, and is fitted to be such a trial as is required
in probation.  It makes the true test of probation, not the
acquisition of property, or learning, or accomplishment; not
external morality, grace, beauty, or strength; not a pilgrimage,
or a sacrifice; but the surrender of the heart to God, a return
friom  sin, a willingness to be saved, an acceptance of the Lord
Jesus as a Saviour.
A  subject of a government-say a baron under the feudal
system-rebels against his sovereign.  He is in possession of a
strong castle, and has entrenched himself there.   Guilty of




82               THE WAY OF SALVATION.
treason, he is liable to the penalty of death in its most fearful
form. If now that castle is besieged and its outworks are taken;
if he is closely pressed, and a demand is made on him to return
to his allegiance, and if there is a disposition on the part of the
sovereign to show him clemency, what would be the terms of
the surrender, or what would be the true point of trial in the
case? It would not be any impracticable thing, such as ascending the heights of an inaccessible mountain, or making himself
wings to fly.  It would not be that he should lacerate his body,
or emaciate himself by fasting. It would not be primarily that
he should honestly pay off those in his employ, and do justice
to those under him whom he might have wronged. All these
things might or might not be proper in their place, but they
would not be the real point at issue. That would be, whether
lie would gice up that fortress; whether he would lay down his
arms and pull down his flag; whether he would return to
allegiance to his lawful sovereign; whether he would. give
hostages as pledges or promises that would be satisfactory for
his future good behaviour.  So the true matter in issue with
man is, whether he will yield the citadel of his heart to his
lawful sovereign; whether he will lay down the weapons of his
rebellion; whether he will leave the service of the enemy;
whether he will accept of pardon for the past on the conditions
proposed, and whether by oath and covenant made over the
blood of the Great Sacrifice, he will solemnly pledge himself to
rebel no more. This issue is to be tried in the present life; and.
to determine this, man lives in this world of probation, and the
terms are constantly submitted to him. These terms are easy.
They have been embraced by millions of all classes and ages.
They are no more difficult to be complied with than it is for the
rebel baron to lay down his arms and open the gates of his
castle; and they are such that God 2must insist on them in regard
to every one found in this position; that is, to every human
being.  It is afacir test; and it must be caplied.
V. The time allotted to man is long enough as a season of
probation.  In the case just referred to, the time need not be
long for the rebel baron to determine whether he would surrender. His character, his disposition, his views would be fully
tested even if the time allowed him were but a single day. If
he surrendered, that would settle the matter; if he refused, that
would determine it with equal certainty. The very position in
which he was found-in arms, with the flag of rebellion floating
on his ramparts, leagued, perhaps, with a more powerful foe, and
barring his gates against the approach of his lawful sovereign,




THE EARTH  A PLACE OF PROBATION.                     83
would determine what he was then; the terms of surrender now
proposed, even if respite were given but a day, would furnish
sufficient trial of what he was disposed to be.
Our life is very short.  It is a vapour; a breath; a summer
cloud; a morning mist.  But it is long enough to answer all
the purposes of probation for eternity.  Let a proposal of surrender be sent to this rebellious baron, and if he pays no attention to it, it shows what he is.  If sent again, and he is still
sullen and indifferent; or if he coolly and with outward respect
sends it back; or if he scourges the messenger and then sends
him back; or if he hurls back defiance; or if he crucifies the
messenger, and suspends him  on the walls in the sight of him
who sent him, can there be any doubt about his character?
Would it be wrong to proceed to a sentence on the ground of
this? To man-short-lived, and found in rebellion against Godan offer of mercy is sent. If he is indifferent; if he turns away;
if he closes his ear; if he meets it with contempt, mockery, and
reproaches; if he seizes the messenger and incarcerates him or
crucifies him, is there any doubt about his character?  Is it
necessary to a fair and equal probation that our supposed baron
should have an opportunity of doing this repeatedly?  Would
you say that equity required that his sovereign should patiently
wait, "rising up early" and sending his messengers to be despised, rejected, or crucified, until the moss of years should
overspread the walls of that castle, and the keeper should become
grey with age?   I tell you, my friends, as you would say in
that case, that this is not necessary; that if God makes you an
offer of salvation so that you fairly understand it; if he sets life
and death before you, and life be despised, there is a fair trial.
Justice and judgment might then proceed apace; and though
you be cut down at twenty years of age, the character is determined.  Life even in such a-case is long enough for this
purpose, and the probation is a fair one.
There are several other thoughts which might be suggested in
order fully to illustrate my subject; but I may not trespass on
your attention by dwelling on them.  I have stated some views
which seem to me important to give us just conceptions of what
life is, and to reconcile us to our condition.  There is one other
thought, however, which cannot be omitted without leaving the
subject incomplete.  I can do little more than name it.
VI. It is this:-that there is just uncertainty enough about
all the objects of life, and about its close, to make this a proper
world of probation.  All things are uncertain-life, health, property, friends, office, honour.  When these things are gained,




84                THE WAY OF SALVATION.
they satisfy no one.  The mind is uneasy, restless, discontented.
The thoughts stretch onward still; nor, in our weary journey,
do we all find a resting-place.  A palace or a cottage, a city or
a village, a feudal castle or an Arab's tent, are alike unfit to
be the permanent abode of man.  HIe wants another homeone more fixed, one more adapted to his nature-the " house
not made with hands, eternal in the heavens."
And amidst this general instability, the close of life itself is
just so uncertain as to show that this is a proper world of probation.  If human life were fixed uniformly at fifty years without the variation of a day, and if the manner of death were in
all circumstances the same, it is not difficult to see what would
be the effect in regard to a preparation for eternity.  Who can
be ignorant of the disposition in man to defer preparation  for
a future state as long as possible?  And who can be ignorant
how  prone men are, even with all the uncertainty about the
manner of death, still to defer preparation to the very hour of
departure?  What, then, in reference to a preparation for a
future state, would be the condition of things if all men knew
the day, the hour, the moment, the circumstances of death?
God has ordered this better.  You may live on yet many years,
or this day's sun may be the last that you will ever belold.
Wrhat is better fitted to lead man, if he would be wise, to think
of another world, and to make a timely preparation for it, than
this uncertainty when his probation will close?  What could
there be that would be more adapted to crown all the other
arrangements of probation, and to bring the mind to make preparation for heaven?  Probably in all other worlds there has
been no arrangement better fitted to secure the end in view than
this; and the fact-the sad and mournful fact-that a candidate
for eternity remains unconcerned in these circumstances, shows
the inexpressible wickedness and folly of man.




SERTMON YIT.
MAAN  ON  PROBATION.
GAL. vi. 7, 8;-" Be not deceived; God is not mocked: for whatsoever a
man sowelh, that shall he also reap. For he that soweth to his flesh, shall
of the flesh reap corruption; but he that soweth to the Spirit, shall of the
Spirit reap life everlasting."
THE literal truth of what is here affirmed no one can doubt. Hie
that sows wheat shall reap the same; he that sows rye, or
barley, or cockle, or tares, shall reap the same. Wheat that is
sown will not produce tares; nor will tares produce wheat.  So
in morals.  He that sows to the flesh, or cultivates the depraved
and corrupt appetites of his nature, will reap only what those
depraved and corrupt appetites can produce-wretchedness, corruption, and woe.  Ie that cultivates the affections produced by
the Spirit of God, shall inherit life everlasting.  God is not
mocked.  I-le is no more imposed upon by any art of man, so
that happiness is the result of sin, than he is in respect to grain
that is sown.  Eternal life can no more be made the fruit of
fleshly appetites than a harvest of wheat can be made to grow
in a field sown only with tares.
The doctrine then is, that man is on trial or probation with
reference to his future state; and that the destiny in the eternal
world will depend on the character formed in this life.  This
truth I propose to explain and to defend.
In the explanation of the doctrine, I would observe, that I do
not use the word probation as implying that man is not fallen,
or that he is on trial in the same sense in which Adam  was
when created.  Considerable exception has been taken to the
use of that word, as if it implied that in all respects the condition of man now is the same as before the fall.  But this idea
is not necessarily conveyed by the use of the word.  Nor is it
meant that man does not come into the world with a strong
and universal tendency to sin-a tendency uniform in its nature
and effects, except when arrested by the grace of God.
The essential idea in the term is, that future happiness and
reward are dependent on present conduct and character.  Adam




86                THE WAY  OF SALVATION.
was in the strictest sense of the word on probation.  I-e was
created, indeed, holy.  But it was important, for purposes which
need not now be referred to, that his holiness should be tested.
A  single act; would do that as well as many acts-just as a
man's character now may be fully tried if placed in some extraordinary circumstances of temptation.  God, therefore, forbade
a specific act on pain of death; with, it is commonly supposed,
an implied promise that if he obeyed, he should be confirmed in
obedience, and be rewarded with eternal life.  lie acted; fell;
involved his posterity in ruin; and died.  The probation was
complete; the trial was passed.  His virtue was not proof to
the temptation.  As the head and father of the race, he sinned
and fell; as his children, we inherit the consequences of the
unsuccessful probation.
Man is not now  on probation in the same sense in which
Adam was; nor will he ever be again.  He is not in the same
circumstances; he has not the same character; he does not begin
life as he did.  No man can now secure immortal temporal life,
as Adam migoht have done, as the fruit of obedience; none can
stretch out his hand and take hold of the crown of glory, as he
might have done, as the reward of personal obedience.  The
affairs of the race are placed on a different footing; and this
idea is never to be lost sight of wheii we speak of the probation
of fallen men.
The followinlg remarks will explain what is meant when we
make use of this word:(1.) The essential thing in all probation or trial is, that the
happiness or misery of the future is determined by the conduct
of the present.  Man acts with reference to that which is to
come; and his conduct draws on a train of consequences in that
future period.  His actions do not terminate in the immtediate
pleasure or painr in committing them, but they constitute that
by which his happiness is to be determined hereafter.
(2.) The great thing  contemplated always by probation is
still set before the human family.  The same heaven is to be
secured, and the same hell avoided, as when man was made in
the image of God.  If man succeeds in reaching the rewards of
heaven, they will be the same rewards which would have been
obtainedhad Adam not sinned; if he sinks to hell, it will be the
same hell to which  he  sunk  for  his sin, unless he repented
and was pardoned.
3. The same character is demanded of man as that which
would be required if man had never sinned.  Heaven will be
made up of holy beings-possessing holiness of the same kind




MIAN ON PROBATION.                      87
whether it be by those who never fell, or those who are recovered
by redemption. There will not be two kinds of holiness in
heaven; and it is as necessary now that man should be holy in
order to enter it, as it was that Adam should be, or any one of
the angels.
(4.) While the main thing before man now is the same, and
the holiness required is of the same nature, the mode by which
heaven is to be reached now is different, and the question now
before man, and on which he is to be tried, is changed.  Man
is not now to obtain eternal life, as Adam might have done, by
personal obedience and by unsullied holiness.  That is now out
of the question in a world where all are born prone to sin, and
are certain to sin. The question now is, not whether you will
obey perfectly a pure and holy law-for no man could be saved
if that were the question-but whether you will repent of your
sins, embrace the offer of pardon through a Redeemer, and submit to a process of sanctification under the Spirit of God, designed to fit you for heaven. In regard to this, I would observe
further, that it is as simple a question as can be submitted to
man, or ever was. The question solemnly proposed to each successive mortal as he comes on to the stage of being, whether he
will repent and believe in the name of the Saviour, is as intelligible, and as plain, as was the question proposed to Adam
whether he would abstain from  the forbidden fruit. It is a
question adapted in all respects to his powers, and one the
answer to which may as reasonably affect and determine his
destiny hereafter.  Bear in remembrance, therefore, that the
question on which man is tried, and is to be tried; the question
which is to be determined by your living on earth, and the only
very material question is, whether you will embrace the Lord
Jesus and depend on his atonement for salvation.  It is not
whether you are beautiful-for heaven cannot be made to depend
on that; it is not whether you  are rich, or learned, or accomplished-for it would obviously be absurd to make the bliss of a
holy heaven depend on that; it is not whether you deserve to
be praised, flattered, or caressed, or whether you can clothe
yourself in fine linen and fare sumptuously every day; it is not
whether you are externally moral, and a man of truth and
honesty; it is, whether you comply with God's commands in
embracing the gospel of his Son, and are willing to be pardoned
and saved through him.  " For he that believeth and is baptized
shall be saved, and he that believeth not shall be damned."  If
you sow to the flesh, you show that you are not willing to be
saved in that manner; if you sow  to the Spirit, you show
7




88                THE WAY  OF SALVATION.
that you are disposed to embrace him, and shall reap everlasting life.
(5.) The theatre of probation is this narrow world where we
are placed.  The time of probation is the present life-that
narrow, pent-up, short and shortening period in which we are to
dwell on earth;-that life which the Bible calls a vapour;those days which the Scriptures say are like a handbreadth,
and a weaver's shuttle.  It is all confined to that unknown
portion of existence which constitutes our life; or rather to
that uncertain. period lying between the present moment and
death.  We can  fix the outer limits-and then draw  them
gradually nearer to us. We can say it is not a thousand years;
it is not five hundred years; it is not one hundred years; with
many it is certainly not fifty, with some not half that;-with
some here it is morally certain it is not one year; with any one
of you, it may not be a week! Yet there lies the question of
probation. There the character is to be determined.  How much
like sowing seed on the margin of an ocean-all along whose
borders a thick mist lies which no eye can penetrate; and where,
for aught you know, the next wave may break over you and
sweep all away!
(6.) One other remark respecting probation.  It is, that God
holds in his hand the prerogative of closing it when he pleases.
Of the particular period when it is to cease he has given no
indication in the book of nature or of grace.'The question of
probation, like that proposed to Adam, does not require much
time to settle it.  It may be done in an instant, as well as in a
hundred years.  It may as certainly be determined of a young
man at fifteen or twenty, whether he is willing to embrace
the gospel and to sow  to the Spirit, as at eighty or a hundred
years.  It may be determined by the simple offer of the gospel
to-day, as well as by repeated offers for many years.  No man can
control God in this, or prescribe to him  how long the probation
is to continue; no man can determine by any act wvhen it shall
close; no man can tell in what circumstances it will end.  No
one can ascertain, in reference to himself, whether it would be
agreeable to God that he should plead for pardon on a death-bed,
when he has a. thousand times rejected it in health; no one can
ascertain whether God will not visit him with delirium or stupor
on a bed of death; no one whether he will not cut him down so
instantaneously that he may not utter the short cry,'" Lord, have
mercy on me," when he comes to die.-The end of life to all is
hidden.  The death of each one comes up in its proper placeunknown to him till hls turn arrives.  The wheels of nature roll




MAN  ON  PROBATION.                        89
on; and as God advances his vast plans, the individual whose
turn is next, dies.  Not a moment is given him if he is unprepared.  To us it seems to be irregular-but an invisible finger
touches the springs of life: like the skilful finger that runs
apparently so irregularly over the piano, yet the proper key is
touched —and to God all is harmony.  Probationers die when
according to his views they oyght to die; and when that time
comes, no created being can for a moment put back the gentle
touch which reaches the heart strings.  You cannot know, if
you would, where is the outer limit of your life; you need not
be deceived by supposing that it is far off.  If your eyes were
open, you mlight see the hideous gulph yawn even now at your
feet.
With these explanations, I proceed to show that the present
is a state of probation.  I desire to show you that your eternal
destiny is to be determined by your character in this life, and
particularly by the question whether you will or will not embrace
the Lord Jesus Christ.
(1.) I begin, in the first place, with  that which is most
obvious, and which settles the general principle.  It is, that our
conduct at one period  of  our  lives determine  the destiny of
the future.  With this truth all are'familiar; and it is not
necessary to dwell on it.  As a general law, industry, sobriety,
and honesty in youth are the pledge of health, competence, and
esteem  in old nge.  On the other hand, vice in youth conducts,
as a general law, to poverty, shame, the penitentiary, and the
gallows.  On this principle the world acts, and must act.  Every
young man is on trial with reference to the future. Every
apprentice, or student, is thus a probationer.  No one presumes
that a young man is worthy of unlimited confidence until he
gives proof of it; no one is disposed to withhold it when he has
furnished that proof.  Thus it is everywhere.  The man that
sows, reaps.  The man that labours has a competence; the idle
and dissipated have not. The young man that has moral principle enough to pass a gaming-room  when it allures-or to pass a
tavern w-hen it tempts him1 or to refuse to go near either when
invited,  which is the probation that fixes the doom, temporal
and eternal, of many a young man,-mnay have a tried virtue
which will ultimately secure the confidence of the world.  The
professional man  that is attentive to his business is appropriately rewarded.  He that toils not, that wastes his youth in
idleness or dissipation, or that is a mere hangcer-on in his profession, will ultimately drop into deserved insignificance and contempt.




90               THE WAY OF SALVATION.
So well settled is this law, that were a man certain that he
would live through a period of eighty years, and be favoured
with ordinary health, he could almost draw out a chart of his
course, and determine the measure of his wealth and honour in
that distant period. And were my object at this time to convince those whom I now address that their future lives here
would be determined by their present character and conduct, I
might now close, for my work would be done. Indeed, I should
do no more than state to you the principle on which you yourselves act every day, and repeat the lesson which you have
heard from the very cradle. We can easily convince any young
man that his prospect of eminence in his profession, or of wealth in
future years, depends on his character and conduct now. Nay, I
should not despair of being able to convince a young man in
danger of falling into habits of dissipation, that he is dependent
on his good conduct now for esteem, and health, and property,
and even life, in future years. Were this the only object of my
preaching, I should in every discourse carry my readers with me,
and satisfy every mind.
Yet when I attempt to carry the mind across that very narrow
but most cold and turbid stream which divides the present from
the unseen world-death; when I attempt to carry the argument though but the smallest distance into eternity, and to
survey the landmarks set up along our future being there, and
to show that men are en probation for that state as well as for
old age, I part with; alas! the most of my hearers. They seem
to suppose that at death their interest in all things stops; that
there is a final pause of being; and they feel no concern in
inquiring whether the probation for future years on earth may
not run on into the higher probation for an eternity beyond.
There they stand near the brink, interested in all that is this side
the Jordan; wholly uninterested in all that is beyond.  My
hearer! I ask you for once to forget that you are to die-a thing
which I need not commonly ask you to do. It is not commonly
remembered too much  but I ask you to FORGET IT for a moment,
and to look just at one point~-THE CONTINUANCE OF EXISTENCE
-as if there were no death; no grave.  I ask you to remember
that death suspends not your existence; changes not your
nature; affects not your character;-that your souls will live on
IN death, and will live on BEYOND for ever.
You are now  a probationer for future health, reputation,
property, office. This you know; this you will not deny. Your
character and conduct now is to affect all your course ever
onward in this world. Young man, you are on trial every day




MAN  ON  PROBATION.                       91
with reference to future years, and you expect that your destiny
in this life will be determined by the character you form  now.
I have now to ask you, why should this state of things stop at
death?  Why should the course of events be arrested then?
W~hy should affairs beyond be carried on on a new and independent principle? Tell me, what is death? Is it annihilation?
Is it the destruction of any mental power?  Is it the loss of
consciousness? Is it a change in the nature of the soul P Oh
no. Not so much as one night's sleep. For in sleep our senses
are locked up; we become unconscious, and sink'into forgetfulness; and the intercourse with the living world is suspended;
and to us it is as if it were not. Yet, when we wake, we find
the actions of yesterday determine our destiny to-day.  We
walk amidst the results of the plans and deeds of the past; and
we have brought over with us the character which we formed
then-nor can we separate it from  us. The man who toiled
yesterday sees his fields to-day ripening and waving in the sun;
the professional man of industry and skill yesterday finds to-day
his way thronged by those attracted by the character he has
formed; the man of temperance rises strong as in the dew of
youth from  healthful repose; and each one meets the rewards
of the probation of yesterday.  So the man of idleness, and
intemperance, and vice, and crime, meets to-day the consequences
which have travelled with him through the disturbed slumbers
of the night; and he reaps the recompense of the conduct of the
preceding day. Why should not the same thing go through the
sleep of death-that sleep which we speak of as long, and quiet,
and undisturbed-but which may not be, and which is not probably a qmoment? Why not rather? l)eath is not even sleep. It
suspends nothing; arrests nothing. The unslumbering soul, in the
fulness of its immortal energies, breaks from its clay tenement,
and wings its way to God, Not one of its powers is annihilated;
not one of its faculties sleeps. It goes a complete moral agent,
with the character formed here, up to the bar of God; and
while the living convey the body to the grave, and speak of thle
sleep of death, that immortal spirit has soared to higher regions,
and is fully awake to sleep no more.
(2.) A second consideration showing that this is a state of
probation is derived from the fact, that rewards and punishments
here are not equally distributed.  This fact is well known, and
needs scarcely more than a passing remark.  The force of the
argument, I admit, proceeds on the supposition that God is a
just Being-a fact which must here be taken for granted.  If he
is, nothing can be clearer than that there must be a future state,




92                THE WAY OF SALVATION.
where virtue will be rewarded, and vice punished. The fact in
regard to the point now before us is this:-The affairs of men
are arrested in the midst of their way. The righteous are not
always rewarded with health and happiness; nor are the wicked
always punished. It may be true, that if men were to live lony
enough on earth, things would come near to adjusting themselves
to what is right; but they are arrested.  Had Paul, for example,
lived to the present time, his name would have been clothed with
all the honour which he could desire. Had the early martyrs
lived, or had they been raised from  their ashes to life again,
all the honour which has clustered around their names-and it
is all that any man could wish-might have gathered around
them. But as it was, they died amidst contempt and scorn.
So the world over. Virtue is often despised, persecuted, and
neglected; vice triumphs, and riots, and revels, unrebuked and
unpunished. Profaneness occupies a splendid dwelling; profligacy is elevated to office; perfidy and meanness and sensuality
lie on a bed of down.  Now all this looks to something future,
and must be adjusted in some future world.  No man can
believe that under the government of a just God this state of
things is to continue always   nor that those various characters
either are to be, or should be, treated alike in the future world,
The state of things on earth is just such as to keep before us as
impressively as possible the truth that this is a world of probation, and it must be such, or the government of God is incapable
of vindication.
(3.) The whole arrangement in the Bible, and in the plan
of salvation, regards man as in a state of probation.  It is
but varying the mode while the same great object is kept
steadily in view.  Our first father, indeed, by a most rash and
vicked deed, for ever prevented the possibility of reaching
heaven by works. On that plan, we have reason to suppose, the
angels stood, and were confirmed in bliss. But that single deed
for ever prevented our race from obtaining heaven in that way.
Still, the object was too great to be abandoned   and another
mode is proposed in the gospel. The same object is in viewheaven; the same holiness is demanded; the same conformity to
the will of God is required. The plan is varied-not abandoned.
God plucked no jewel from  the crown of glory; he abridged
none of the joys of heaven; he dried up none of the fountains of
life. He did not offer to man a tarnished crown, or diminished
and faded joys. It is the same heaven still, in the fulness of its
glory; the same crown; the same light; the same river of life;
the same freedom from pain and woe.  The way of reaching it




MTAN ON PROBATION.                      93
only is changedC.  He proposes a new question-adapted to the
new circumstances of man; but still as simple, and as easy of
compliance as possible. It is, whether men will repent and
acelpt of heaven now as a goft; whether they will believe the
record wlich God has given of his Son, and embrace life without
money and without price.
This is the question which is now before men. And this is
the question which God is constantly pressing on their attention.
By the preaching of the gospel; by his Spirit; by his providence;
by all the means that can be devised, he is bringing this question
home to the minds of men, and demanding a reply.
But is this state of things to continue always? Is this probation to be lengthened out and varied in some future world, or
is it finally to close when the sinner leaves this state of being?
An essential idea in the notion of probation is, that it is not to
continue always; that it is to give place to retribution, and that
present conduct is to determine the future desktiny. Now, is the
arrangement of the plan of redemption made on this supposition,
or is it on the supposition that the state of things in which we
now are, or a state of things similar to that, is to continue for
ever? Is God again to send his Son to the lost and ruined, after
the lapse of many ages, to be crucified again, and to make
another atonement for sin?  Is he to fill up eternity by ineffectual appeals and remonstrances, and by repeating invitations to
be for ever rejected? Is he to send down his Spirit to strive
always with men in this world and the next, and to be grieved
and resisted for ever? No. This strange state of things must
cease. There is to be no other sacrifice for sin. There is to be
no other world where the Spirit of God will strive with men.
There is not to be an eternal preaching of the Gospel-an
eternal succession of appeals and remonstrances on the part of
God. The period mnaust, in the nature of things, come when this
will cease, and the affairs of the world will be wound up.
There is but one Great Sacrifice for sin; and when that has been
fairly and fully presented to the mind according to the Divine
purpose and arrangement, and has been rejected, the probation
must then end. All the arrangements of the plan of redemption
contemplate such a close; and the affairs of earth are moving on
to such a consummation.
(4.) The doom of man may, with evident propriety, be fixed
at the close of this life.  What better world of probation
could there be than this?  What stronger inducements to
holiness could be presented than are here set before man?
What more simple and easy tests could be furnished than are




94               THE WAY OF SALVATION.
furnished in the gospel?  And though life is short, yet that
"life is long which answers life's great end;" and the great end
is to prepare for heaven.'hough it is short, yet it is long
enough to repent of sin, to embrace the gospel, and to secure
an interest in the world of glory. Not the age of Methuselah
is needful for that; for the child may embrace it, and the
man of years might have embraced it a thousand times.  His
life has been long enough to reject the plan; and a life which
is long enough to reject it, is long enough to embrace it.  In
regard to the reception or the rejection of the gospel, and in
regard to the whole character of man, the question is fully tested
by this life. What further trial is necessary for a man who has
lived for eighty, or sixty, or fifty, or forty years; who has a
thousand times been offered salvation; and who has as often
rejected it?  Why should it be necessary for him to live another
eighty years to know what he is?  What would be gained,
either in justice or propriety, if 4-hat period were doubled or
quadrupled?  What would be gained if the same thing were to
be rejected till time itself shall end?  Is there any doubt about
his character?
Here bear in mind one truth which all men are prone to
forget. It does not require many years, or many deeds, to test
the character, and show  what man is.  The prisoner in the
cold dungeon condemned to die, that would treat the offer of
pardon with scorn, if you can suppose such a case, does he
not by that single act show what he is?  Is it needful to go
again and again, to submit to repeated neglect or insult in
order to ascertain what he is?  So of man. If pardon and
heaven are fairly offered and are rejected, it is enough. It
settles the question, and determines what the man is.  And
when the character is thus settled, why should not man die, and
his eternal doom be fixed according to the deeds done in the body?
(5.) Lastly, I observe, that God regards men as on probation,
and treats them  accordingly.  He offers them  salvation; he
treats them as moral agents; he sets life and death before them;
he places them in circumstances where they must develope their
character, and then he removes them to another world. What
the nature of that world is, he has told us. As the tree falls, so
it lies. He that is holy shall be holy still, and he that is filthy
shall be filthy still. The one part shall go away into everlasting
punishment, the other into life eternal.  In all the volume of
revelation, there is not the slightest hint on which ingenuity
has ever fastened that intimates that there will be any other
world of probation; not a hint that the Redeemer will again




MAN  ON PROBATION.                        95
bleed, or that pardon will be offered there in virtue of his atonement made on earth; not an intimation that the sacred Spirit
will ever be again sent to purify a polluted heart.  As man dies,
he is to continue for ever; and as his character is formed in this
life, so must be his final doom.
My point I regard as established.  It remains only, before I
conclude, to entreat those whom I now address not to be deceived.
God is not mocked, and he cannot be under any delusion in
regard to what you are. He will judge you according to your
true character; a character which is to be ascertained by the
manner in which you treat his offer of mercy through Jesus
Christ. Nlo man need deceive himself on this point; no manl
need be lost.  Nothing is plainer than the gospel of Christ;
nothing more clear than what God requires you to do.  It is,to
repent and believe the gospel; to embrace the terms of mercy,
and lead a holy life. To do that is to sow to the Spirit; not to
do that is to sow to the flesh.  And if instead of doing that, my
fellow-sinner, you choose to pursue the ways of licentious and
sensual pleasure; to give the reins to corrupt and corrupting
passions; to make provision only for this life, I forewarn you
that God will not be mocked in this thing; nor will he suppose
that such a course can entitle you  to reap everlasting life.
You will reap corruption.  You will gather the appropriate
harvest of such a course. You are here for a little time-yet
time long enough with reference to a future world; and you are
every day, and hour, and moment, forming a character for that
future world.  Soon you will be there.  Soon you will give up
your account for all the deeds done in the body.  To apprize
you of that fact I now address you, with one more message
announcing to you that you must soon give up your account,
and assuring you once more that the great question which your
Creator designs shall be settled, is not whether you are accomplished, or learned, or beautiful, or rich, or honoured; but whether
you have embraced the offer of mercy through a Iedeemer, and
have truly repented of your sins.  On the grave's brink you
stand, and soon this question will be settled for ever; and I
conjure you to act for eternity.  For soon the harvest will be
passed, and the summer ended-whether you are or are not
saved.




SERMO N  iIII.
THE NECESSITY OF ACCOMMODATING OURSELVES TO TIHE
ARRANGEMENTS OF THE DIVINE GOVERNMENT.
MATT. xxv. 26, 27.-" Thou knewest that I reap where I sowed not, and
gather where I have not strawed: thou oughtest therefore to have put my
money to the exchangers, and then at my coming I should have received
mine own with usury."
THIS is a part of a parable; and its design is to illustrate the
views which men who neglect religion have of the government
and plans of God. The man who had failed to improve his one
talent alleged as a reason that he who had committed it to him
was unjust and severe in his exactions; and not being satisfied
with the arrangements, he had buried it in the earth. The illustration evidently refers to those who fail to improve the talents
committed to them; and who, when the Judge shall come to
reckon with them, will be found to he unprepared.
The reason why they do this is some secret dissatisfaction
with the government of God.  They are not pleased with his
law, his plan of salvation, or his requirements, and they make
no effort to be prepared to meet him, and to give up their
account.  God's administration they regard as one where he
reaps what he has not sown-a government severe, harsh, tyrannical.  The answer of the man who had committed the talent
to him who made the complaint was, that knowing what were
the principles on which his affairs were administered, he OUGIT
To HIAVE accommodated himself to them, and then he would
have been rewarded like the others. We are not to suppose
that the Saviour meant to admit that the charge which lmen
bring against God is Just, or that God is severe, harsh, or
capricious in his requirements; but the idea is, that since men
understand what are the principles of his government, and on
what terms he will bestow favours, it is wise to comply with
those terms, and not neglect their salvation:-" Thou knewest
that I reap where I sowed not,-thou oughtest THEREFORE to
have put my money to the exchangers!"  You know what are
the principles of the Divine government; you know on what
terms God bestows salvation; you know that he is inflexible in




THE DIVINE. GOVERNMENT,                      97
those terms, even so much so as to seem stern and severe; you
ought, therefore, with so mnuch more anxiety to endeavour to
comply with those terms, and to be prepared for your strict and
solemn account.
In illustrating this sentiment, I shall,
I. In the first place, show what are the grounds of complain
among men about the government and plans of God; and,
II. That it is wise to comply with the actual state of things,
and to seek his favour in the way which he has prescribed.
I. tWhat are the grounds of compglaint among men about the
government and plans of God?
There are men who think the government of God, as described
in the Bible, to be harsh and severe, who yet do not mean to
regard God himself as a tyrant.  They have no belief of the
truth of the Bible, but suppose they have a view of the Divine
government much more conformable to truth than that which is
there represented.  Yet these men do not mean to be regarded
as infidels. They are known externally as respecters of religion;
but the religion which they respect is not the religion of the Bible,
but the semi-deistical system which they have formed in their
minds;-that sentimental religion which floats before the fancy;
the religion of nature which they think to be the true, the
beautiful, and the reasonable, rather than that severe and harsh
religion which denounces punishment, and which sternly requires
repentance and faith on the penalty of being lost for ever. Yet
even such men are not altogether free from regarding the government of God, contemplated under any view, as harsh and severe,
There are some facts in the world which are about as difficult
to manage as any of the doctrines of revelation; and even when
man has rejected revelation, he is sometimes as much embarrassed
in grappling with those facts as he would be with the doctrines
of the Divine administration as developed in the Bible.  Men
do not get away from difficulty by rejecting Christianity.
The mass of men, whether they are among the speculative
believers in the truth of the Bible or not, at heart are complcainers
in regard to the principles of the Divine administration.  They
are not satisfied with the government of God. They regard it
as harsh and severe.  And instead of accommodating themselves
to what are undeniable facts, or to what is revealed as certainly
true, they suffer the mind to accumulate complaints against
God; to be chafed and soured by the operations of his government; and to cherish such views of him that it is impossible for
them to love him.  Before they can be reconciled to God it is
necessary to remove those accumulated complaints and dissatis



98              TI-IE WAY OF SALVATION.
factions; to show them that God is worthy of their confidence,
and that he is qualified for universal empire; and this is often
a more difficult task than it would be to clear away the rubbish
from Babylon or Nineveh to find a place to lay a foundation on
which to rear a wall or a dwelling.
Now the views which men actually cherish of the plans and
government of God are something like the following:
(1.) That his law is needlessly severe and stern.  "I knew
thee that thou art an hard man" was the language of the complainer in the text. A law of some kind they would not object
to; but the law that condemns all sin; that attempts to control
the feelings; that takes cognizance of the motives; that frowns
on the most trivial offences; that makes no apology for the infirmities of men, and for the strength of passion, and for an
original propensity to a certain course of thought or life, they
feel is needlessly severe. That God should hold them answerable for each idle word, and for the roving of a wanton eye, and
for the least stain of pollution on the heart, and for the slightest
wandering of the fancy from pure objects, they hold to be unreasonably hard and stern.
(2.) That the law of God should have such a penalty as it has.
To some penalty they would not object; for they see it appended
to all laws. But the penalty which denounces eternal death for
every offence; which dooms a sinner to infinite and unending
pain without respite and without hope; which never speaks of
mitigation or end, seems to them to be horrible, and they do
not scruple to cherish the feeling in their hearts, though they
for various reasons would not choose to express it openly, that a
being who can deliberately affix such a penalty to his law is
wholly unworthy of the confidence of the universe.
(3.) Men suppose that his government is arbitrary. That he
governs by will,-not by reason; that he has formed an eternal
plan and ordained an unchangeable decree, and then attempts to
treat men and to punish them  as though they were freethough he knew that they could not do otherwise if they would.
(4.) That he requires much more of them than they can perform; that he requires them to love him and serve him with a
perfect heart, when he does not give them the grace to enable
them to do it. This, perhaps, is the leading thought in the text:
"Thou art an hard man, reaping where thou hast not sown, and
gathering where thou hast not strawed."  The idea is, that God
does not give grace, and yet exacts as pure and perfect love as
that of the -angels; that "the tale of bricks is not diminished
aught though no straw be given," Exod. v. 7, 8. Some service




THE DIVINE GOVERtINME-NT.                     99
they would be willing to render to God; but to demand a service of entire obedience where no grace is given-a service of
perfect love, when God confers none of the influences needful
for it, which they regard as the nature of his governmentthey consider as a tvyranny.
(5.) That he requires them  to forsake pleasures which are
harmless, and to practise austerities which are needless; that
he demands a separation fiom  the common pursuits in which
men are engaged, which is required by no dictates of reason;
that he insists on a devotion to religion of time, and property,
and influence, and feeling, which interferes with the real happiness of men; and that he claims from  the heart and the life a
slavish devotion to his cause which would interfere much with
rational enjoyment and solid happiness. To the rendering of an
external service they would have little objection; to the bowing
of the knee at stated times they would have no reluctance; to
a devotion to the interests of religion which would be consistent
with the ordinary and accustomed pleasures of life, they would
not seriously demur; but when the demand comes for the whole
body, soul, and spirit to be employed in.his service; for the
consecration to God of the "talent,"  though   single,  to  him
only, they object as being needlessly unreasonable and severe,
and they say of him that they " know  that his government is
hard-he reaps where he has not sown, he gathers where he
has not strawed."
(6.) The same thing is felt in regard to the terms of salvation.
It is a "hard" administration, they feel, that they are not
permitted to rely on their own morality, and that even the
most amiable and upright life is to go for nothing in the matter
of justification before God. To some conditions of salvation they
would not object; and any service which an amiable disposition,
or an honest life, or a fair character would confer, they would
not be unwilling to render. But why should repentance be
demanded of him who feels that he has nothing, or almost nothing,
of which to repent?  Why make this an indispensable condition
to him who has been upright and fair all his life? And why
require faith as the sole condition of salvation of him who feels
that he really deserves some other doom than that of inextinguishable fires?  Why must he come and be saved in the same
way with the most vile of the species, and confess his dependence
on the merits of the Redeemer in a manner as absolute and
entire as the most degraded son or daughter of Adam P, That
all his morals, his amiableness, his integrity, his self-culture,
his self-discipline, his temperance, his purity, his reputation,




100              THE WAY  OF SALVATION.
his character acquired by a life of many years of steady virtue;
should go for nothing in the matter of salvation, seems to him
"hard," and he is ready to accuse the government of God as
being unreasonable and severe.
(7.) He has another difficulty still.  The government of God,
he feels, is arbitrary in the dispensation of favours.  To one he
gives five talents, to another two, to another one.  On one he
bestows great endowments, and from others he withholds them.
To one he gives his Holy Spirit, from  another he withholds
this gift. The mind of one he makes tender, and that of another
he leaves as hard as adamant.  One is converted by his almighty
power, and another is left in his sins.  One is chosen to life,
and  another is passed over and doomed to death.  To one he
gives gra.ce to become a Christian, and to another not; and yet
of all it is said he requires the same service, demands in all the
same faith, and condemns to woe in all cases where he affords
no help to avoid it.  This, says he, is a " hard." government;
this is a hard master to serve.  It is " reaping where he has not
sown, and gathering where he has not strawed," and the talent
is hid in the earth. No effort is made to improve it; no desire
is felt to comply with the requisition of such a government-anc
many secretly go back from this view to that to which I have
already adverted-to what seems to them a more plausible and
rational system-the system  of semi-infidelity-a system  of
religion which every man forms for himself.
At this stage of the argument it is not improper to pause
and ask you, my friends, whether I have given an account of
ally feelings which you will reconise as your own.  I have
intended not to do injustice to the objection which is felt-fJcl
rather than avowed.  Can you not discover here some of the
operations of your own minds, as if some one had been reading
what you had supposed to be hidden thoughts in the chambers
of your own souls?  That there are such feelingos there I have
no doubt; that they are feelings which ought not to be cherished?you would show by your unwillingness to avow them.  But tf
there, they are standing in the way of your salvation, and
you will not become Christians, whatever else you  may be,
till they are removed.  I propose to meet these feelings in what
I have yet to say, and I shall do you an essential service if I
can contribute anything towards removing them.
There are two questions about the plans and government of
God. The one is, whether his arrangement is a wvise and good
one; the other is, whether, being what it is, it is not wise and best
for us to accommodate ourselves to it, and avlail ourselves of the




THE DIVINE  GOVERNMENT.                       101
arrangements which actually exist, even thoug'h we cannot exactly
see that they are the best. The latter is the point now before us.
II. My second proposition is, that it is wise to fall in with the
actual state of things, anid seek the favour of God in the way
which he hae s prescribed.  " Thou knewest that I reap where I
sowed not,-thou OUGHTEST THEREFORE to have put my money
to the exchangers."  Let us paraphrase this:-' Thou knowest
that God has given a law which is holy, and strict in its requirements; thou knowest that he has appointed the penalty of
eternal death on its violation; thou knowest that he requires a
holy and obedient life; thou knowest that he bestows salvation
only on the conditions of repentance and faith; and thou knowest
that he dispenses his favours only according to his sovereign
will.  Even if this seems severe and stern, yet, knowing that
these are the unchangeable laws of the Divine administration,
thou ozghtest THEREFORE to comply with them, and be prepared
to meet him and render up thy account.' This sentiment I shall
illustrate by several considerations, which I trust will not only
close the mouth of the objector, but carry conviction to the
understanding and the heart.
(1.) The first is this:-It is the way in which you act in
other things.  In those things you act without complaint, andyet complaint would be as reasonable there as here.  The whole
of life indeed is little else than this:-finding out what are
in a/ct the laws on which the affairs of the universe are administered, and then complying with them. We find out what
will support life, and then we go to worok and raise the fiuit
and the breadstuffs needful for that support.  Do men complain
that they have to do it even by the sweat of their brow P  We
ascertain what are the laws of health, and then we make use
of the means to preserve or restore it.  Do nmen prefer to die
because they are not satisfied with those laws, or because they
do not understand them?  A company of men wish to construct
a railway or a canal.  What do they do?  They estimate the
expense, and the difficulties, and the  advantage.  They take
the level and look out for the best route, and accommodeate thelmselves to the condition of the country.  If there is a hill, instead
of complaining, they level it; if a valley, they fill it up; if a
stream, they build a bridge; if a fen or morass, they go across
or around it.  But why not sit down and complain that God
did not make railroads and canals, and that he made hills and
vales and rivers and morasses?  A merchant needs the produce
of distant lands.  WThat does he do?  I-ie jiads out the laws of
navigation, and seeks to Lunderstand the theory of currents and




102               THE WAY OF SALVATION.
winds and storms, and accommodates himself to them. He builds
a ship fitted to the navigation of distant seas, and seeks to get
within the influence of favourable gales, and prepares for the
billows and tempests that he has reason to suppose he must
encounter. But why not complain that God made such wastes
of waters, and that he raises up a storm  or makes the billows
roll?  A man purposes to become a farmer.  The piece of land
which he buys is covered with the forest, where the sunbeams
have never looked down through the thick foliage on the soil.
What does he do?  He accommodates himself to the case,
shoulders his axe, and tree after tree is laid low; and he ploughs
and fences his land and gathers out the stones, and ascertains
the nature of the soil and adapts the seed to it, and raises cotton
on that which will produce cotton, and wheat on that which
will produce wheat, and lentiles on that which will produce
lentiles.  We dread the lightning. What do we do?  We find
out what its laws are, and accommodate ourselves to them, and
the rod conducts it harmless to the earth.  So in lands where
earthquakes are feared, what do men do?  They build their
houses low, they put them  where they will be safe, and they
accommodate themselves to the laws of nature. Thus men act
in food and raiment, houses, commerce, agriculture, and the arts.
The man in Greenland, who builds his house of ice, and he in
Kamskatka, who makes his in the earth, and he at the Equator,
who seeks a shelter at noonday behind some cool projecting
rock, all accommoodate themselves to the laws of nature.  Our
whole life is little else.  This' is all our philosophy; all our
practical wisdom  in living; all that distinguishes the refined
from  the savage portions of the world.  It is simply that,
knowing what are the laws of nature or of God, we accommodate ourselves to them-and we have learned that it is as well
to do it without complaining. All that is asked now is, that the
same thing should be done in religion.  Why should it not be?
(2.) Mly second observation is this,-that we cannot change
the arrangements of Providence, and that, knowing what they
are, it is the part of wisdom to accommodate ourselves to them.
A wise man will comply with what he cannot help, unless it
can be shown to be wrong to do so.  To refuse to do this is to
make himself miserable to no benefit, and life will be spent in
the employment of " gnawing a file." If men by resistance could
change the actual order of things; if they could reverse what
are now facts, and substitute what would meet their views in
place of what actually occurs, the case would be different.  But
if they can do none of these things, what is the way of wisdom?




THE DIVINE  GOVERNM.ENT.                   103
A man is dissatisfied that there are tempests and head winds on
the ocean.  Will his displeasure calm  the billows or still the
storm     He is dissatisfied that there are hills, and morasses,
and floods, and earthquakes on land.  Will his displeasure
change any of these things?  What is the path of the wise in
such cases?  Is it not to act as if these things were so, and to
accommodate ourselves to them; and since there are tempests
and storms on the deep, to act as if it were so, and build our
ships so as to be safe in them; and on the land to act as if
there were hills and rocks and streams, and when they cannot
be removed make the, best of actual circumstances P  So a man
grows old, and his head becomes white-blossoming for the
grave.  The course of events is onward, and he cannot make
one white hair black again, or roll back the wheels of life a day
or an hour. What is the path of wisdolm     It is to act as if
he were to be old, and to accommodate himself to this fact 
Will his displeasure at it change the fact?  So in regard to
the laws of property.  They are settled laws.  If a man wishes
to be prospered in the world, as a general thing the way is by
industry, and temperance, and honesty, and straightforward
dealing. This is so well understood that it may be regarded as
settled.  What is the way of wisdom?  Is it to brave this
settled law, and set himself against the course of events, and
attempt to be rich and happy, and at the same time idle, and
intemperate, and dishonest, and crooked in his dealings?  Men
do not act thus; and though it may require much self-denial
and many hardships, yet they submit to the settled course of
events, and are industrious and sober and upright in order to be
rich and happy. If they do not choose to accommodate themselves to the course of events, those events will move on still;
man cannot change them.  Seed time and harvest, summer and
winter, cold and heat succeed each other just as though the
complainer had no existence.
So in the case before us, there are settled principles in the
Divine administration.  There are certain facts.  There is a
course of events which we cannot change. There is a revealed
way of salvation.  Are these things changed if men oppose
them, or refuse to act as if they were so?  Not one of them.
Men are dissatisfied that sin is in the world, and murmur that
God permitted it. Is the fact changed at all?  Is it not just
as mighty and loathsome and ruinous in your soul as if it were
admitted that God was right in all that he had done?  Men
think the law of God harsh and severe.  Is the course of events
under the administration of that law changcd?  You deny that
S




104              THE WAY OF SALVATION.
there is a judgment.  What effect has this on the Jfct of the
judgment?  Is the judgment-seat likely to be swept away
because you do not choose to believe what is said of it? You
think it hard that there is a hell. And what then?  Are its
fires extinguished because you choose to think so?  You doubt
the truth of the Bible.  And what then?  Is it any the less
true?  And suppose you could prove that it were false, what
would follow then?  Would it change the fact that man is a
sinner, and that he is miserable, and that he is to die, and that
eternity is to be dreaded, and that the apostasy has filled the
world with griefs and tears'?  Not one of them. The Bible has
created none of these woes.  They are sad, melancholy facts,
whether the Bible be true or false, and your destroying the
Bible would make no change in regard to these facts.  Now
what is wise in such a case?  It is to accommodate ourselves
to these facts, and act as if they were so. The course of nature
must bend, or we must. But can we stand up against the course
of events and act as if they were not so?
(3.) The third consideration is, that there is no reason to
believe man can be saved in any other way than by compliance
with the plan which God has prescribed, and it is wise, therefore, to conform to his terms.  God has, for illustration, told the
farmer how he may have a harvest. It is by a proper cultivation of his soil, by seasonably ploughing, and sowing, and tillilg
his fields. But if he choose to spend the time of ploughing and
sowing in bed, or in the place of dissipation, nothing prevents
his doing it; but will God work a miracle to accommodate his
love of idleness or dissipation, and give him a harvest? God
has told a young man how he may become learned. It is by
patient and persevering study. But if he chooses to waste the
time of study in sleep, or with the idle, nothing prevents his
doing it; but will God work a miracle and make him by inspiration a Parr or a Person?  He has told us how we may, as a
great law, enjoy health.  It is by temperance in eating and
drinking, by exercise, by a good conscience, by avoiding the
excesses of passion, and guarding fromn needless exposures.  But
if we choose to neglect these salutary rules, and pursue a life
just the opposite, will God work a miracle for our accommodation?  So in all things, God has appointed certain conditions of
his favour in health, morals, reputation, property, salvation.
Man, a free agent, can neglect them all.  But will God bend
the laws of the universe to us P  Will he work a succession of
miracles to accommodate our indolence, our selfishness, our
sensuality, our pride, our distrust of his wisdom and goodness 




THE DIVINE  GOVERNMENT.                     105
No. The fixed laws of nature and of grace move on, and if, by
our conforming ourselves to them, they do not bear us to affluence,
and virtue, and reputation, and heaven, they will sweep us on
to poverty, and rags, and disgrace, and the drunkard's grave,
and to hell.  And knowing what they are,we ought TIHEREFORE
to accommodate ourselves to what we know is to be the result.
Now, in regard to the particular matter before us, many have
been dissatisfied with the Bible, and have rejected it. Have
they therefore been safe, and have they gone to heaven?  2'Gct
remains to be proved. Neither the heaven nor the earth; neither
God nor angels; neither their own lives nor their death-beds
have given any evidence of it.  WA;hat is the proof that they
were saved P  Is it such that you and I can feel that our immortal
interests are safe if we do the same thing?  Many have refused
to repent and believe the gospel, and have lived and died thus.
What is the evidence that they have not been' lost,' as the Saviour
said they would be?  Is it such that we can feel ourselves safe
in doing the same thing? Many have been living in the neglect
of religion, and have died thus. They were opposed in heart to
the law of God and to its penalty.  They doubted the wisdom
of his administration.  They hardened themselves when the
gospel was preached and when salvation was proclaimed. What
is the proof that they were saved?  Where, where shall we
look for it?  Is it such that it would be safe to risk the welfare
of our souls upon it?  What sign is there in the sky which says
that they are there?  Has a new star appeared, as it was said
there did when Cessar died, to show  that they are gone to
heaven?   Has an angel come forth and written their names
among the constellations?  Think not this extravagant.  If I
am to be safe if I am an infidel, an impenitent sinner, a wicked
man, a neglecter of prayer, and a despiser of the cross, I wish
to have some evidence that they who have done the same thing
before me were safe and are now happy.  I look about for the
proofs.  They are not in the sky.  I see no sign there; I hear
no voice. I go to their graves.  I see no reason to credit the
flattering epitaph on their gravestones that they went to heaven.
I see them not coming back from the world of glory to tell me
they are blessed. I ask, where is the evidence, where on a dying
bed, at their graves, —in all the universe, where is the evidence
that I may live thus and be safe?  I see none; I hear none;
I am  told of none, even by those who are expecting to be
saved in the same way.  And then you ask me what evidence I
have that the man who repents and believes will be saved. I
have evidence.  It may not seem strong to you; it is clear to




106              TILE WAY OF SALVATION.
me; and yourself being judge, it is better than none.  It is in
the promises of the Bible; in the voice of inspiration; in the
resurrection of the Redeemer; in his assurance that his people
shall be with him; and nothing yet has occurred in regard to
the influence of his gospel, to the living virtues or the dying
peace of his fiiends, to shake my belief that it will be so.  I see
them  die just as if they were going to heaven-so peaceful, so
calm, so happy, that I cannot doubt that they are safe.  Knowing what are the terms on which God bestows eternal life, they
have conformed to those principles, and their lives and death
have been all that could be demanded on the supposition that
they were going to heaven.
(4.) My fourth consideration is, that the arrangements by
which God proposes to save men are not unreasonable, or such
as to throw  any insuperable barrier in their way, and they
should therefore conform  to them.  It was no impracticable
thing that'was required of the man with the one talent.  Was
it beyond his power to put the money to the exchangers?  So
we say of the terms of salvation.  Are they impossible to be
complied with?  Are they so stern, so severe, so much beyond
the human powers as to put eternal life beyond our reach?  I
could make a long argument on this point, but I shall not enter
now upon it.  I will settle it by two or three questions:-Who
are they that believe and are saved?  Children; the ignorant;
slaves, as well as the learned and the great.  Is that impossible
for you which may be done by your child? —that, beyond your
power, which has been done by many a poor, benighted heathen,
by the savage, by the man in bonds P  What does God require
of you?  Does he say, Go on a pilgrimage over oceans to visit
some far distant shore? No. He says, " Come unto ne!" Does
he ask  money?   No.  "Come without money  and without
price."  Does he ask painful penance?  Just as much as you do
of your child, when he has done wrong, that he will confess and
forsake it. Does he demand a hard service P  He asks confidence in the great and glorious Saviour; a pure heart and life;
a meek, gentle, holy walk; hands free from bribes, and a heart
without covetousness and sensuality; a spirit of kindness, and
forbearance, and forgiveness; love, pure, glowing, steady to himself and to all mankind. Is this hard? Is it stern? Is it severe?
We are conducted to these conclusions:(1.) Religion requires humility.  It demands of us that the
intellect should be bowed and the will subdued.  Te% must
bend, and not God; our hearts must yield, and not his principles
of government; we must accommodate ourselves to the settled




THE DIVINE GOVERNMENT.                       107
course of events, and not require them  to be accommodated to
us.  As the first thing in religion, therefore, we may say that
humility is required, and we might go on  to say of it, as
Demosthenes said of action, that it is the second thing and the
third thing.  And yet it is no more than is required anywhere
else. It is the condition of our being-the law of our nature.
AWe must yield to the settled course of events on our farms, in
commerce, and in our health, and why should we not in religion?  Why pause and hesitate only here?
(2.) Yielding must be wholly on our side. God will not yield,
nor should he.  His terms are settled and understood, and he
will not depart from them, nor should he.  The universe would
not be safe should he depart from  the great principles of his
administration, nor is there any reason why he should do it.  If
we have any safety, it is in the assurance that he does not change,
and that the principles of his government are always the same.
(3.) Finally, the sum of the whole matter is this:-We must
comply with the terms which he has provided for salvation, or
be lost.  Those terms must be met exactly, and nothing can be
substituted in their place.  He demands of us repentance, and
faith in the Lord Jesus.  He solemnly assures us that " he that
believeth not shall be damned," and has said, " Except ye repent
ye shall all likewise perish.'  There is, therefore, my friends, a
simple question before your minds at this time-a question as I
believe of vital interest to your souls.  It is, whether, knowing
the principles of the Divine government, and the terms on which
God will save men, you are willing to accommodate yourselves to
those terms and be saved, or whether you will, dissatisfied and murmurling, bury your talent in the earth.  That question is now
before you for decision.  That it is a momentous question I need
not say.  Believing, as I do, that on it depends the eternal weal
or woe of every one who  hears  me now;  that the decision
is to enter into all that there is of joy or woe beyond the grave;
that we are sinners, lost, ruined, and condemned, and that these
are the terms of pardon, and these only, how can I neglect to
urge it upon you with affectionate entreaty?  The great, the
momentous subject I leave with you.  Above us is heaven and
immortal glory, to be obtained by us only on certain conditions,
which God has made known. Beneath us is the world of despair,
to be avoided only on certain terms, which God has prescribed.
Just before us is the grave, where there is no work, and ill
which no offer of life and salvation is made on any terms, andi
where the everlasting doom  is sealed for ever.  Dying friends,
oh how soon shall we be there!




SERMON IX.
THE STATE IN WHICI  THE GOSPEL FINDS MAN.
MATT. xviii. 11.-" The Son of man is come to save that which was lost."
ALL men, with exceptions too few to be taken into the general account, have some scheme of salvation.  The exceptions
relate to the very few cases where individuals are in a state of
despair; or where, either from  physical disease, or from  some
perverted view of the truths of religion, they have abandoned
all hope of happiness in the world to come. With these very
few exceptions, there are none who do not expect to be happy
beyond the grave. The proof of this is plain.  It is found in
the composure with which men look at eternity; the indifference
which they manifest when warned of a coming judgment; the
cool and unperturbed spirit with which they pursue the things
of this life, whether they are serious things or mere trifles; the
unconcern which they evince when told of eternal sorrows.
It requires the utmost strength of human hardihood when a
criminal looks with no paleness of the features, and no trembling
of the limbs, on the gibbet where he is soon to be executed;
and no man could look on eternal sorrow with a belief that it is
to be his own, and be unmoved.  When we see men, therefore,
wholly unconcerned about their eternal state; men, though
professing to believe that there is a place of future woe, wholly
unalarmed and unmoved, the fair inference is, that not one word
of the statements about future woe is believed, and that they
have some secret scheme by which they hope to be saved at
list. Either by works of righteousness which they have dolne
or in virtue of the native amiableness of their character; or
because they have done no injury to others; or because they
believe that it would be wrong for God to consign them to an
eternal hell; or because they confide in what they regard as the
illimitable compassion of God, they expect to be saved, and,
therefore, give themselves no trouble about it. It is not, it
cannot be human nature to believe that eternal pain is to be our
portion, and still to sit unmoved.  Still less can men believe
this and be cheerful and gay.  Every man, therefore, must have
some secret scheme by which he hopes to be saved.




HOW  THE GOSPEL IINDS MAN.                   109
Yet, there can be but one method of salvation that is true.
If the Christian plan is true, then all others are false; if they
are true, then that is false. If there are other schemes by which
man can be saved, then there was no need of the Sacrifice on the
cross, and the scheme proposed in the gospel is an imposture.
The adnission, then, that the Christian religion is true —an
admission which sinners often so readily and so thoughtlessly
make-is a condemnation of all other systems, and shuts out all
who are not interested in the plan of the gospel from all hope
of heaven.
On this account, if on no other, therefore, it cannot but be a
matter of importance to know what the plan of salvation proposed in the gospel is. The previous discourses have been designed, in part, to prepare the way for this by considering certain
states of the mind in regard to religion; by removing certain difficulties felt by men on the subject, and by stating certain presumptive claims which Christianity has on the attention of men. It
seemed proper to do this before attempting to show specifically
what the plan. of salvation revealed in the gospel is; and having
done that, the way is now prepared for a more definite statement of the scheme of salvation proposed in the gospel, or the
mental process through which a sinner passes when he embraces
the plan. In doing this, I wish to take out this scheme from all
others, and to show what it is, so that a man who asks what he
shall do to be saved, may understand what, according to this
scheme, is to be done; what is required of him; what hindrances
he will meet, and what encouragements will be held out to him:
what, in one word, according to this scheme, is the method by
which God proposes to bring a sinner to heaven.
I begin, of course, with a consideration of the state in which
the gospel finds man; and the general statement which I make
on this point is, that God's plan of saving men is based on the
fact that the race is by nature destitute of holiness.  If this were
not so, there would have been no necessity for the scheme.
Men would have possessed full capability of saving themselves.
If men before or since the promulgation of this plan had any
elements of holiness in their character, or any traits which could
by their own skill be wrought into a texture of righteousness;
or if there was remaining in the human soul any germ of goodness which could by culture be developed into holiness; or if
there was any slumbering spark of piety that needed only to be
uncovered and fanned into a flame, then the design of interposing
in the manner revealed in the gospel would have been unnecessary, and would not have occurred.  For then all that would




110              THE WAY OF SALVATION.
have been needful would have been to leave the race to themselves, with only such moral encouragement as would stimulate
them to effort, or with such aid as would enable them to unfold
the germ of piety in the soul, as they now cultivate the intellectual powers, or as they cultivate a plant from a seed sown in a
garden.  This is very far from being the gospel scheme.
But it is of the last importance that we should understand
what is meant when it is said that God's plan of saving men is
based on the fact that the race is destitute of holiness. There
are things which men try to do in religion which thiy cannot
do, and are, therefore, not required to do; there are instructions
given to men seeking to be saved, which the nature of the
human mind forbids any one to follow, and which ought not to
be followed; there are statements made on this point which no
man can believe to be true, hard as he may try to think them
true, and much as he may endeavour to blame himself because
he does not; there are acts for which a man thinks he ought to
condemn himself, when after all his struggling he cannot work
himself up to feel one particle of guilt; and there are doctrines
which men are sometimes taught that they ought to believe,
which are so obviously and palpably false, that in trying to'
believe them they become disgusted with the entire system, and
renounce the whole together. After all the efforts which men
make to credit absurdities, there are things which the human
mind can believe, and those which it cannot; there are things
which we can repent of, and those which we cannot.  In a
certain state of mind, and under a certain kind of teaching, a
man often works himself up into a belief that he ought to feel
guilty, when he cannot; and often blames himself in this respect,
when he ought to feel that he is acting perfectly right.  And
so, on the other hand, there are cases where a man resists the
conviction of guilt when he ought to feel it, and does just as
much injustice to his own nature by refusing to be penitent, as
ie did in the other case by trying to repent.  How, then, is a
man who wishes to be saved to regard himself on this point?
What is he held to be guilty of? what not?
In the answer to these questions, I shall, first, state to you
what you are not to regard yourselves as guilty of; and then,
secondly, what is to be regarded as the real state of the soul by
nature in respect to God and religion. I can most conveniently,
and with no want of respect for you, use the style of direct
address.
(1.) First, then, you are not held to be guilty of the sin of
Adam, nor is repentance for that, in any proper sense, to enter




HOW  THE GOSPEL FINDS MBAN.                    111
into your repentance if you are saved according to the way of
salvation provided in the gospel. I do not mean by this that you
are not involved seriously in the consequences of his apostacyfor, except in the notion of personal guilt in the matter, I would
go as far as any man in holding that you are so; but that you
are not to regard yourselves as personally  blameworthy on account
of what he has done, and that you need not try to feel, and
that you are not to reflect on yourselves if you cannot feel that
you are. If a man ever does workl  himself up into the belief
that he is guilty, or blameworthy, or responsible for the sin of
Adam, it is simply a delusion of his mind: harmless in some
respects, but hurtful so far as he supposes that any piety grows
out of it-for no true religion grows out of a falsehood, and so
far as it tends to modify his views of the character of God.  In
a sound and healthy state of the mind, it is impossible that a
man should feel guilty or blameworthy for any sins but his own.
lie may be affected in his person, character, happiness, or property, and in some sense in his reputation, by the sin of another;
he may greatly regret it, and may weep over it as a calamity,
and may feel himself humbled by it on account of his relation to
the offender; but he can never feel in regard to it as he does in
regard to his own sins; he can never weep for it as he does in
view of his own personal guilt.  God, in the constitution of the
human mind, has fixed bounds on this subject more impassable
than are those which restrain the ocean.  You feel guilty for
your own sins; you do not, you cannot for the sin of another.
The feeling with which you regard your own sin, and the feeling
with which you regard the sin of another, are as distinct as any
two classes of feeling possible, and they can never be confounded,
and they are not to be intermingled in a plan of salvation. I
believe that the Bible does not hold you to be blameworthy, or
responsible, or in the proper sense of the term gzilty, for the sin
of Adam, or of any other man.  I am  certain that your conscience does not hold you thus guilty.  It is a simple matter of
fact that you cannot make yourself feel guilty of that, however
much you may try to, and however often you may be told that
you must.  The act was his act, not yours; the disobedience was
his, not yours; the responsibility was his, not yours. It took
place nearly six thousand years before you were born: you were
not there; you had no agency in it whatever-and you cannot
make yourself feel personally guilty for it, and are not to try to
do so in the matter of salvation.  You may lament it-may feel
its effects-may weep over those effects; but you are not to
lament this, to feel this, to weep over this, as a personal crime



112              THE WAY OF SALVATION.
for you cannot do it. That is a separate feeling-limited and
bounded as distinctly as any feeling which the mind ever has,
and never going outside of the consciousness of personal criminality. I shall endeavour to show you that you have enough to
lament and weep over, without attempting to burden yourself
with this.  Settle it, then, as an elementary principle in the
way of salvation, that repentance must be limited to personal
guilt, and that you can feel condemned only for your own sinsnot for the sin of another.
(2.) You are not to suppose that it is necessary in order to
salvation, that you should feel that you are as bad as you can
be. I am  saying that the plan of salvation in the gospel is
based on the idea that the race is destitute of holiness:-but I
am not saying that it is based on the idea that the sinner is as
bad as he can be, or that it is necessary to true repentance that
he should suppose that he is. I do not know that it could be
affirmed of any one of our race that has yet lived, that he was
in all respects, at all times, and in all his relations, as wicked a
man as he could have been, any more than it can be affirmed of
any one, the Saviour excepted, that he was in all respects, and
at all times, as good as he could be. I am sure that this is not
true of the great mass of those to whom the gospel is preached,
and who do exercise true repentance: and I do not mean to
say to you, therefore, that in order to be saved, it is necessary
that you should feel that you are as bad as you can be. It is
simply not true. You might be much worse. You might be
more profane, more sensual, more proud, more irritable, more
covetous. You might have deeper feelings of malignity against
God, and deeper hatred for man. You might be openly corrupt
as well as corrupt at heart; and you might be more corrupt at
heart than you are. There are in the soul of the most abandoned
man some remains of decency-I do not say of holiness-that
might be obliterated, so that he would be worse than he is; there
is in the most debased and wretched female, now an outcast,
some lingering of a generous and noble feeling-I do not say of
love to God-that might be quenched, so that she would be more
depraved than she is. It is true that under deep convictionunder very highly wrought feeling-and when the floods of
remembered guilt come rolling over the soul, the sinner does
sometimes feel that he has been as bad as he could be, and that
all the past in his life has been the blackness of the deepest
criminality with nothing to relieve the picture. But this is the
proiApting of feeling-perhaps an unavoidable feeling in the
case;-it is not the conviction of the sober judgment. And it




HOW  THE GOSPEL FINDS MAN.                     113
is true, perhaps, that convicted sinners try sometimes to make
themselves feel so, and suppose that they ought to feel so; but
they should be told that it is not true, and that all real piety is
based on truth, not on pious falsehood.  It is true, indeed, that
under the deepest conviction which an awakened sinner ordinarily feels, it may with propriety be told him that he is worse at
heart than he really supposes himself to be; that there is a depth
of depravity in his soul which has not yet been seen or developed,
and that he might dread the revelation of the truth; but it is not
true that it is necessary in order to be saved that he should work
himself up into the belief that he is as bad as he can be, or that he
should charge upon himself sins of which he has never been guilty.
Nor, for the same reason, is it necessary that you should regard
yourself as worse than all others.  It is true that Paul felt that
he was " the chief of sinners," and it is true that a similar conviction may come over the minds of others. But this is not
necessary to genuine repentance, simply (a) because it is not ti-ue
in the case of the great mass of those who become really penitent;
and (b) because it is not necessary to true repentance that we should
compare ourselves with others in any respect. Genuine repentance, and a just view of ourselves, are not based in any degree on
such a comparison with other men, but must arise from the contemplation of our own character as compared with the law of God.
(3.) When we say that the plan of salvation in the gospel is
based on the supposition that the race is destitute of holiness, it
is not meant that in any of its arrangements it is implied that
the sinner is guilty for not doing that which he had no power
to do.  The sense of guilt is, by the constitution of the human
mind, as accurately limited in this respect as it is in the cases
already referred to. A  man can no more feel guilty for not
doing that which he had no power to do, than he can for what
is done by another. In all cases where there is, in the common
sense of the term, a want of ability, there is no obligation, and
there can be no sense of guilt if the thing is not done: and no
method of reasozning can change this conviction of the human
soul. There is no way by which you could convince a man that
he is under obligation to create a world, or to remove a mountain, or to raise the dead; or by which you could convince him
that he is guilty if he does not do it. And so, for the same
reason, and to the same extent precisely, there is no method of
reasoning by which you can convince a man that he is under
obligation to believe if he cannot believe, or to love if he cannot
love, or to repent if he cannot repent, or to obey if he cannot
obey; or by which you can make him  feel the genuine com



114               THIE    AY  OF SALVATION.
punctions of guilt if, under these circumstances, he does not
believe, repent, love, and obey.* tie may profess to be convinced,
but he is not convinced; he may fancy that he feels guilt, but
he does not feel it.  The human mind was not so made as to be
approached in that manner, and religion makes its advances in
the world in accordance with the laws of the mind, and not
against them.  Obligation is limited by ability; and the consciousness of criminality is always bounded by the feeling that
we have omitted to do what we might have done, or have done
what we had the power of abstaining from doing.
(4.) When we say that the gospel plan of salvation is based
on the fact that the race is destitute of holiness, we are not to
be understood as teaching that there are no amiable qualities in
the minds of sinners, or that there is nothing that can in any
sense be commended.  Of the Saviour it is said respecting a
young man who came to him, and who afterwards showed that
he had no real piety, that " beholding him, he loved him" (Mark
x. 21); and with all the real, and genuine, and ardent piety of
John, there is no reason to believe that it was solely on this
account that the Saviour loved him.  It is not improper to
suppose that Peter, and some of the other apostles, had as sincere
love to the Saviour as John had, and that they were willing to
make as many sacrifices for him as the " beloved disciple" would,
and that they as cheerfully laid down their lives for the Master
as he would have done; but it is not improper to supposeindeed we cannot help  believing-that there was a native
modesty, gentleness, meekness, amiableness in the character of
John that bore a strong resemblance to these traits in the mind
of the Saviour himself, and that made him peculiarly the object
of endearment.  So it may be, so it is, of others.  It is not
asserted by the friends of the Christian religion, that there is no
morality, no parental or filial affection, no kindness or compassion,
no courteousness or urbanity, no love of truth, and no honest
dealing among unconverted men. The friends of religion cannot
be blind to the existence of these qualities in a high degree in
society, nor are they slow  to value them, or to render them
appropriate honours.  Yet they suppose that all these things
may exist, and may diffuse a charm  over society, and promote
many of the ends of social life, and still that there may be an
utter destitution of all rig'ht feeling toward God.  They suppose
that it is possible that a man may be very kind to the poor, and
* The reference here, perhaps it need hardly be said, is to natural and not to
what is called mnoral inability. My views on this subject are more fully given in a
subsequent discourse,




HOW  THE GOSPEL FINDS MAN.                    115
very just in his dealings with others, and still have a heart of
pride, and selfishness, and envy, and be an entire neglecter of
God; that a man may be upright in his intercourse with his
neighbours, and have no right feelings towards his Maker; that
a youthful female may be very accomplished, and very gentle, and
very winning in her manners, and yet never pray, or in any proper
way acknowledge God. Yet, when the heart is under the deepest
convictions for sin-when crushed and broken by the consciousness of guilt, as that of the most amiable and gentle person may
be, whether male or female-it is not necessary that the mind
should be blind to these qualities, or that the convicted sinner
should " write bitter things against himself" on account of them.
He is no worse for having, possessed them, and if they will not
save him, they will at least not be charged against him as a fault.
With these necessary metes and bounds on the subject, which
it seemed proper to state, I proceed now to illustrate the general
statement that, in the plan of salvation, God regards men as
destitute of holiness.  The remaicnder of this discourse will be
occupied with a statement showing in what respects this is true.
The foundation and the sum of all that I have to say is, that
you are destitute of true piety towards God.  Whatever else you
may have, there is nothing that can be construed as holiness of
heart; nothing that is properly the Divine image in the soul.
But, lest you should suppose that I am using a mere theological
technicality, I would explain this as meaning that there is in
your heart no real love to God; no true desire to honour him;
no just appreciation of his character; no confidence in him as
your Creator; no proper regard for his will; no pleasure in the
principles of his government; no desire to please him.  This
view does not deny to you the poesession of much that is amiable
and kind in other respects; it simlply denies that there is in you
any good thing towards the Lord God of Israel."
It is undeniable that it is on this view that the whole plan
of salvation is based, and that that plan has grown out of this
view, and is adcfusted to it. If it had been supposed that man
were not fallen, no plan of salvation would have been provided,
for none would have been necessary any more than for the
angels of heaven; if it had not been supposed that the race is
by nature entirely destitute of holiness, then the plan, if one
had been formed, would have been wholly different fiom what
it is now. If it had been presumed that there was any germ' of
goodness in the soul, then the plan would have been to deve:lop
that germ-as we now seek to expand the intellectual powers
by education. If it had been supposed that the almiable qualities




116               THE WAY OF SALVATION.
of the mind were in any sense of the word true piety, or could
be transmuted into piety, then the plan would have been to
attach these qualities to religion, or to embody them  in some
form of religion. If it had been supposed that there were some
remains of piety dormant in the soul-some slumbering and
almost smothered spark of goodness-that needed only to be
brought out and fanned to a flame, then the scheme of salvation would have been simply a device to accomplish that object.
But it is not so: it is impossible to explain the plan of salvation
on the supposition that it is so.  The way of salvation in the
gospel does not contemplate that. You may take the supposition
that man is destitute of holiness, and that he is so regarded by
the Author of the scheme, and you can explain every part of
the alrrangement as having grown out of that supposition-just
as you can explain the science of the healing art on the supposition that man is liable to disease, and can explain it on no other.
If you do not admit that supposition in regard to the character
of man, you can explain nothing in the gospel; you can see no
propriety in any of its arrangements.  By a simple glance at
the subject, you can see what I shall more fully explain hereafter, that on this supposition all that is said in connexion with
that plan about the atonement-the new birth-the work of the
Holy Spirit-the doctrine of justification by faith, has a place
and a meaning: what place what signification, have they on
any other supposition?  The way of salvation, as revealed in
the gospel, is adjusted to the idea that the race is destitute of
holiness, and to no other view of the character of our race.  I
lay this, therefore, at the foundation.  If this is not so, the
whole plan is uncalled for and unmeaning, and, therefore, having
taken a wrong view of human nature in the starting point, is
false throughout. You can never make anything of Christianity
on any other supposition than that this is a fallen race, and
that the race is wholly destitute of holiness; but on that supposition it has at least the merit of being an admirably adjusted
scheme, as it will be easy to show you hereafter. You can never
hope to see the beauty or the fitness of Christianity as a way of
salvation until you admit and feel that whatever else you have,
you have by nature no true love towards God.
In the expansion and application of this view there are several
things which follow, and which it is important to state in order
to put the mind into possession of the exact truth, and to confirm what has been just said.
Fivrst. In the way of salvation it is assumed that your morality
is not holiness. It was not in the case of the young ruler whom,




HOW  THE GOSPEL FINDS MAN.                    117
on that account, Jesus loved; it was not in the case of Saul of
Tarsus, who said of himself, referring to his character before his
conversion, " touching the righteousness which is in the law
blameless," Phil. iii. 6.  It is not in your case. It is another
thing altogether than religion.  Your morality relates to man;
not to God.  It has, in your own mind, even, no reference to
God. It leads you to no act of devotion to him; to no prayer,
to no desire to learn his will, to no worship in your family or
in your closet. You do not yourself, even, pretend on this account to be a religious or pious man.  You do not profess to be;
you do not ally yourself to those who are pious; you do not
expect to be ranked among their number; you would be surprised if you were-either by man or God.  You would either
receive it as a witticism  if you were called a sacint, or would
regard it as intended to be an insult. You have never pretended
to perform the proper act of a religioes man; and you would be
greatly surprised if a religious man should address you as a
brother believer. Your morality is very valuable in some respects,
but it has a very limited sphere considering all your relations;
and, though amiable in itself, it may exist in connexion with
other things that are far fiom being amiable.  Will you suffer
me to show you, by a very plain illustration, how this is P  A
company of boys are playing on a common.  They are blithe,
merry, happy. They are kind to each other, and true to each
other, and faithful to each other.  If one falls into danger, all
are ready to help him; if one is unfortunate, all sympathize with
him; if one is prospered, all rejoice.  They do not steal fiom
each other; they do not slander each other; they do not cheat
each other.  If one makes a promise to another it is faithfully
kept; if a bargain is made, the most scrupulous rules of honesty
are observed..But they are all truants.  They have broken
away from  the restraints of home; are there contrary to the
wishes of their parents, and in direct violation of their commands.  They refuse to return home at the time when they are
commanded to; and if at home they manifest no regard for a
parent's will or comfort.  What do you think of them?  Does
their system of morality among themselves prove that they love
their parents, or are entitled to the favtour of their parents?
Does it prove that they are not to be regarded as trucant, and
treated accordingly?  Suppose that one of them is charged with
disobedience to his parents.'Oh,' says he,' we are very kind,
and honest, and truthful among ourselves.  I have injured no
one of my playmates; I am esteemed to be honourable and up.right; I am among them strictly moral.'  Exactly so; but how




118              TIE WAY  OF SALVATION.
does this prove that he is not guilty of crime against a parent?
Just as much, fellow-sinner, as your morality proves that you
are not a sinner in the sight of God-and no more.
Second. In the way of salvation in the gospel, it is assumed
that your amiable traits of character are not holiness, and that
they cannot be construed as religion.  Why should they be
any more than the innocence of the lamb, or the gentleness of
the dove?  They have no more reference to religion in your
own mind; they do nothing to vakle you religious.  They do
not lead you to prayer, or to a religious life, or to the worship
of God,  or to the love and imitation of the Saviour-more
meek, and gentle, and amiable by far than you can pretend to be;
nor do they lead you to prepare for the world to come. Besides,
you may not be as amiable as you think you are.. Others may
see things in you which you do not see; and God may see more
than all. Your real character may have been little tested, and
you may yet be in circumstances where you yourself may be
surprised to find how much pride, and envy, and irritability, and
perverseness, and petulance, and selfishness, there was lurking
in your own soul.
Thirdly. In the way of salvation in the gospel, it is assumed
that your personal accomplishments are not religion; and that
they do not prove that you have any holiness of heart.  It
assuredly does not demonstrate that you are a child of God,
whatever praises it may elicit from men, if you can sing well,
or dance well, or play well on an instrument of music; if you
are fitted to adorn the most polished circles, or if by the grace
of movement, or the charms of conversation, you attract the
admiration of all.  Some of these things are well in their way,
and are desirable; but why should any one deceive himself in
regard to them?  They are not religion; they cannot be made
to be religion.
Fourthly. It is assumed in the way of salvation in the gospel,
that there is no native germ  of goodness or holiness in your
heart; that there is none implanted by baptism  that can be so
developed or cultivated as to become religion.  Holiness, if it
ever exists in the human soul, is to have a beginning there.  It
is not there by nature.  You may cultivate your intellectual
powers, but the result will not be religion; you may cultivate
amiableness of temper, but it is not religion; you may cultivate
gracefulness of manner or of person, but it is not religion; you
may cultivate morality, but it is not religion. And so of baptism.
It has its advantages, and they who have been baptized should
bless God for it; but it is not given to manl, whether clothed in




IIOW  THE GOSPEL FINDS MAN.                   119
sacred vestments or not-to man, though ministering at the altar,
and in the name of God, to implant a principle of grace, or a germ
of piety in the soul. God's Spirit alone creates life there; and
it is done through the instrumentality of truth, and not by an
outward ordinance.  Baptism has imparted nothing to you that
can be certainly cultivated into piety, or that will grow into the
love of God.
And, ffthly, then it is assumed in the way of salvation in the
gospel, that your heart is evil. It has by nature no religion. It
has nothing which can grow up into religion; nothing which
can be a substitute for it.  It is proud, selfish, vain, worldly,
polluted, wicked, unlike God.
This may seem  to be a dark picture, but it lies at the
foundation of the way of salvation as revealed in the gospel;
and on this sad fact the whole plan is based. All men, as is
supposed in this plan, have failed to yield obedience to the
reasonable requirements of the law of God.  The violation of
that law is held to be the first act of a child when he becomes a
moral agent; the continued act of his life, unless he is renewed;
the last act on his dying pillow. His whole career is regarded
as one act of rebellion, because he is selfish, neglects God, is
proud, is cherishing enmity against his Maker, and is opposed
to all efforts to produce better feelings. In innumerable instances,
this want of holiness, this destitution of love to God, goes forth
in acts of falsehood, impurity, blasphemy, theft, murder, adultery,
oppression, and implacable individual and national war.  In
support of this view of the character of man, the sacred Scriptures assert the naked fact, claiming to be the testimony of God.
The Bible has, moreover, recorded, under Divine guidance, the
history of the world for more than two-thirds of its continuance,
and presents no exception to this melancholy account of men.
Profane writers, with no reference to any theological debate, and
nine-tenths of them  with no expectation that their testimony
would ever be adduced to settle questions of divinity, have presented the same fact. Not one solitary historian, though coming
from  the midst of the people whose deeds are recorded, and
designing to give the most favourable representation of their
character, has exhibited a nation bearing any marks of holinessan individual that is like God. The world, the wide world, is
apostate; and he must be worse than blind that would attempt to maintain that man by nature is fit for the kingdom of
heaven.
On this broad fact, wide as the world, and prolonged as its
history, the Christian way of salvation is based.  Here is an
9




120              THE WAY OF SALVATION.
apostate province of God's empire.  Rebellion has come uplo
the earth, though not as it came among the ranks of heaven.
There it cut off a fixed number, all mature in wisdom  and in
strength.  It would not spread; it could not be extended to
successive tribes.  Here it poisoned a fountain.  It was amidst
God's works at first, but a little spring, pouring into a rill, but
soon swelling to creeks, to rivers, to lakes, to oceans. An incalculable number would descend from the first pair of apostates,
and with prophetic certainty it could be foretold that not one
of their descendants would escape the contagion to the end of
time, however long the apostate world might stand.  To all
ages it would be the same.  On each mountain, in each valley,
in each cavern —on each extended and fertile plain-in all lands,
barbarous or civilized-under every complexion in which man
would appear-white, black, copper, olive, or imixed,-it would
be the same. Crime would be heaped on crime; whole nations
would bleed; whole tribes would wail; one generation of sinners would tread on another generation, and then themselves
expire-and all die as enemies of the God that made them.
We  need  not embarrass  ourselves by inquiring how  this
came upon us, or why this is so. It is the fact with which we
are concerned, not the mode.  The grand question is not why
this is so; or why this was permitted; or how we can reconcile
it with the goodness of God, but how shall wve escape? When
a man is struggling in a current of mightdy waters, it does nothing
to facilitate his escape to be able to determine how he came
there; nor would it help him if he could satisfy his own mind
on the question why God ever made streams so that men could
fall into them, and did not make every bank of granite or iron
so that it would not give way.
The grand question is, how shall we escape?  You will not
escape if you remain in your present condition. Indifference is
not safety; and unconcern is not salvation. It is not the way
to be saved to give one's self no concern about it, or to suffer
things to pass on as they are.  If you remain as you are with a
sinful and depraved heart-with no love to God-what can
befall you but ruin?  Without holiness you cannot be fit for
heaven.  For what world are you preparing?
It will not save you to murmur and complain at your lot, or
to find fault with the Divine arrangements, or even reverently
and devoutly to call these things mysterious.  Scepticism saves
no one from danger; murmurinl  saves no one; a sneer saves no
one; contempt saves no one; nor does it saye any one to call a
truth a mystery. None of these things make you a better man;




HOW  THE  GOSPEL FINDS MAN.                    121
none do anything to fit you for heaven; none will make the
sorrows of perdition more easy to be borne.
It will not save you to cultivate the graces of manner, or the
accomplishments of life; to become more learned in the sciences,
and a better critic of t;.e productions of art; to make yourself
nore moral before men; to break off your external sins, or to
put on the " form  of godliless without its power."  You may
cultivate a bramble, but it will not be a rose; a rose, but it will
not be a bird of Paradise; a bird of Paradise, but it will not be
a gazelle; a gzelle, but it will not be a beautiful woman.  You
mnay polish brass, but it is not gold; and may set in gold a piece
of quartz, but it is not a diamond:-and just as certain is it
that none of the graces of native character which you can cultivate will ever become true religion.  The evil lies deeper than
this, and must be healed in another way.  HIlow this is may be
explained hereafter.  MIy point now is gained if I have shown
you that the Christian way of salvation justly assumes as its
basis that our race is by nature destitute of holiness; and if you
are convinced, as I would wish you to be convinced, that it is
not by works of righteousness which you have done that you
can be saved.




SERIMON X.
THE INQUIRY, WHAT MUST I DO TO BE SAYED?
ACTS xvi. 30.-" What must I do to be saved?"
IN the last discourse I endeavoured to show that God's plan of
saving men is based on the fact that the race is by nature
destitute of holiness. I illustrated this by showing that it is
not meant that the race is held to be guilty of the sin of Adam;
or that it is necessary in order to salvation to suppose that the
sinner is as bad as he can be; or that he is guilty for not doing
that which he has no power to do; or that there are no amiable
qualities in the minds of men by nature, or that there is nothing
that may, in any way, be commended.  I showed that it is
meant that there is in the heart by nature no real love to God;
no just appreciation of his character; no pleasure in the principles of his government; no desire to please him.
This is the condition, I suppose, in which the gospel finds
man; this certainly is the assumption in regard to man in the
way of salvation revealed in the gospel. This being supposed,
the Scripture plan has, at least, consistency and meaning; this
being denied, it has no consistency and no meaning. You can
make nothing out of the gospel except on the supposition that
"Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners;" except, in
his own language, it be admitted that he " came to seek and to
save that which was lost." He is not, then, in the path of salvation who does not feel and admit that he is a sinner, and who
is not prepared to receive salvation as it has been provided for
sinners.
We advance a step, then, at the present time, by considering
the state of mind which exists when one, impressed with these
truths, begins to feel that something must be done to save his
own soul; the condition when one enters on the inquiry what
he must do to be saved. I may not be able to state all that will
be necessary on this part of the subject in this discourse, but I
would hope to be able to show you that this inquiry is at least
rational and proper, and that it starts questions not beneath the
attention of any.




WHAT MUST I DO TO BE SAVED?                   123
To give some general order to the remarks which I propose to
make, I shall endeavour, in the first place, to describe the state
of mind to which I refer; shall then state some of the causes
which produce it; and then notice some of the perplexities and
embarrassments which the mind in that condition experiences.
That is an epoch in a man's life when, from a former condition of carelessness and unconcern, he is first led to ask the
question what he mutst do to be saved? A new inquiry has come
before him, evidently in every way worthy of his attention as a
man, and yet in some respects as difficult as it is momentous.
It is evidently a great subject, and may involve great changes
in his character and plans of life, and it lies far without the range
of the ordinary inquiries which come before the minds of men.
The word " saved" suggests thoughts which do not enter into
his ordinary investigations; the word " how" starts questions
which have not entered into other matters which have occupied
his attention.  How a man may accumulate property; how he
may gain honour; how he may become learned, accomplished,
influential; how he may ward off the attacks of disease, andhow
he may defend himself if in danger, are, points which he may
have often considered, and on which he may have definitelyformed opinions. How he is to be saved is another inquiry
altogether. For this is a different question from  that about
becoming  rich, graceful, or honoured; and the knowledge
which he has gained on one of these points does not afford him
any clue in his inquiries on the former topic. For how shall
the knowledge of the best way of acquiring property aid a man
in answering the question how he shall be saved?
The state of mind which I am describing is that which exists
when this inquiry first comes up for consideration.  It may be
characterized by the single word seriousness; or by the phrase
a disposition to thotught and relection. There may be as yet a
very slight sense of personal sinfulness, and almost or quite none
of danger; but there is the feeling now that religion is of importance, and that it is at least worthy of inquiry-inquiry as
to its truth, and as to the method of salvation which it proposes.
There is a conviction hitherto unfelt of the worth of the soul,
and a feeling that that should have a degree of thought and
attention not before bestowed upon it.   Religion somehow
occupies more of the attention; it is suggested more frequently;
it is not so easily disposed of; it is more likely to return after
the mind has by a slight effort been diverted from it to other
things; it seems to come before the mind with more importunate
claims than it has done before.




124             THE WAY OF SALVATION.
The power of reflecting on the past, the present, and the
future, is one of the highest endowments of man, and nowhere
is that power more appropriately exercised than on the subject
of religion.  We think on the past, and derive valuable lessons
from what we have seen and experienced, and from what has
occurred to others, to guide ns in that'which is to come; we
think on the present-on what we are-on our characters, duties,
and relations, and inquire what we should be in those relations;
we think on that which is to come, and inquire what we are
yet to be. Thought has no limit.  The past, the present, and
the future; the distant, the vast, and the incomprehensible; the
real and the imaginary; time and eternity; death and life;
earth, hell, and heaven; God, angels, devils, and men; the living,
and the dead; nature and grace; sin and redemption; man
here and man hereafter,-all are within the proper range of
thought, and all may suggest thoughts about our personal
salvation.
Thought gives birth to new plans, new hopes, new prospects
in the lives of men.  It leads to permanent revolutions of character; to the exchange of wild and visionary schemes for those
of soberness and reality; to corrections of follies, to enlargement of views, and to the formation of generous and noble purposes. No man is likely to be injured by calm  and serious
reflection; none can be by the questions which true religion
suggests.
There are inquiries pertaining to religion which are worthy
of thought, and which have been so regarded by the profoundest
thinkers of our race.  Some of the most careful and laboured
investigations to which the human mind has given birth have
had reference to religion; suggested by the single inquiry how
a man can be saved.  Much of the profound reasoning of Socrates,
Plato, Cicero, Seneca, Bacon, and Locke, like all that we have
of Paul's writings, had reference to religion.  More minds have
been employed on this inquiry than on any other one subject in
which men have been interested, and the inquiry has been pursued with a zeal and ardour such as has been felt on no other.
The inquiries which religion suggests are sufficiently various,
dignified, and important, to be worthy of the most careful reflection of every man. Is there a God? Is there an hereafter P
Is the soul immortal?  Is there a way by which sin can be pardoned, and by which a sinner can be saved? Has God devised
a plan by which a sinner can be justified, and are there conditions on which the benefits of that plan are proposed to men?
Does the Bible contain the record of the way by which a sinner




WHAT MUST I DO TO BE SAVED?                     125
may be saved; or if not, where may such a record be found? Is
the. Christian religion true?  If so, what are its claims, hopes,
privileges?  What is the way of salvation which is revealed,
and how may one be assured that he is walking in that way?
And there are personal questions which demand thought.
What has been the character of our lives?  What are our hopes
for the future?  How are we regarded in the view of the holy
law of God; how by the Author and Administrator of that law?
Are we living in accordance with the purpose for which -we were
made?  Are we prepared for our exit from this present life?
Have we done all that we ought to do; all that our consciences
require us to do; all that we have ourselves deemed it desirable
to do, that we may be ready for our departure?
The state of mind which I am endeavouring to describe is that
in which these inquiries begin to assume something of their
proper magnitude.  This will not always, indeed, be manifested
by assuming the position of an avowed inquirer on the subject
of religion.  It will be rather, perhaps, in some such ways as
these:-conscious seriousness when the subject of religion is
alluded to, accompanied with a feeling of its importance such
as has not been usual in the mind; a willingness to examine
the arguments in favour of religion, and a growing interest in
them as addressed to the understanding; an increasing conviction that this world is not a satisfactory portion for the soul, and
a disposition to inquire whether the universe has not something
better in reserve; a disposition to reflect on the past life-more
now on its faults than on its virtues-more on the neglect of duty
than on the performance of duty-more on the internal feelings
than on the external conduct-more on the thoughts and the
motives than on the outward deeds-more on the treatment of
God than on the treatment of men-and more on the now conscious want of holiness towards God than on personal amiableness and morality.  You seem to be far less perfect than you
supposed you were.  You see more errors of judgment; more
aberrations from what your conscience tells you you should be;
more things in which the motives were doubtful or wrong; more
cases in which there was an improper indulgence of passion and
criminal desire. Your temper has been less amiable; your treatment of your father less respectful, and of your mother less kind;
your compassion for the suffering and the sad less tender; your
charities less generous; your principles of life less scrupulously
exact than you had supposed.  You begin to feel, as you have
not heretofore done, that you are a sinner; and the inquiry is
springing up in your mind as one that claims attention, Jlhat




126              THE WAY OF SALVATION.
must I do to be saved?  Religion begins to appear to your mind
to be the most important of all subjects; and you feel that,
whatever may be the inclination of the heart in regard to it, it
ought to be attended to.  It is beginning to be seen to be a
subject that pertains to you as a personal matter; and the inquiry,
"What must I do to be saved " is one that begins to have a
place among those in which your own mind is deeply interested.
It may be, as yet, merely an awakened interest in religion; or
it may be that there is deep and pungent "conviction" for sin
-— an overwhelming sense of past guilt-such as the jailer in
the text seems to have had, when all the sins of a past life are
brought to the remembrance, and the intensest interest is thrown
into the question, " What must I do to be saved?"
This state of mind is necessarily connected with the way of
salvation as revealed in the gospel, and, to a greater or less
degree, always exists before the fitness and the beauty of that
plan of salvation are perceived by tle mind. Christ came to save
sinners; and the whole plan of salvation is adjusted to the
supposition that it is for sinners, and there is inwoven into the
scheme an arrangement for making  men feel that they are
sinners as preliminary to, and indispensable to, a revelation of
mercy through the Saviour.  It is supposed that men would
feel this, and ought to feel this sense of guilt, and there is a
special agency appointed in the gospel to. secure this state of
mind in the case of all who become Christians and are saved.
No man, according to the plan of salvation in the gospel, can be
saved who has not a just view of himself as a sinner, and who
does not come, as such, to the cross of Christ.
It is very important, therefore, to inquire what is done, under
the Christian plan of salvation, to produce this state of mind.
This is the next point which I proposed to illustrate.
I do not design to say to you that the feeling of thoughtfulness or solicitude is in all cases the same in intensity or in
duration, or that it is always to be traced to the same causes.
From the nature of the case it must vary with the time of life;
with the temperament of the individual; with the general
character; with the amount of education and the power of selfgovernment; and with the causes which produce the serious
reflections.  In some cases the seriousness may be the slow
growth of many years; in others, the result of some visitation
of Providence, or some message of truth coming suddenly to the
soul. In some the mind may fasten on a single great sin that
shall occupy all the attention, and fill all the field of vision; in
others it may be a calmer view of all the past life. Among




WHAT MUST I DO TO BE SAVED?                 127
youths it may be calm, serious thought, apparently the result
of early training, and when the seed sown in childhood seems to
spring up and ripen as gently and as noiselessly as the grain in
the harvest field does under the gently falling dew and the
noiseless sunshine; in the man of strong passions, and infidel
opinions, and great wickedness, it may be with the violence and
commotion of the winds when they sweep along the hills, and
when in their rage they twist off the gnarled oak, or tear it up
by the roots. In the educated and disciplined mind it may be
apparently mere calm  contemplation and profound reflection;
in the uneducated and undisciplined a genuine work of grace
may be going on, under all the outcries and outbreaks of what
seems the wildest fanaticism and disorder. Under the steady
preaching of the gospel it may be one thing, in the storm of
adversity and affliction it may be another; -here the Spirit of
truth may seem to approach the conscience through the understanding, and there through the emotions. No one would expect
precisely the same feelings in John, the meek and gentle friend;
Peter, the bold, the impetuous, and the rash; and Saul of Tarsus,
the zealot and the bigot, when they passed through the stages
preliminary to conversion; no one would expect precisely the
same feelings in the heathen jailer at Philippi, and in the conversion of a youth trained now  in the Sabbath school.  In
certain great features we should expect indeed to find similarity
or identity; in the intensity of the feeling, the amount of
anxiety, the duration of this state of mind, or the causes which
produced it, we might expect to find every imaginable variety.
To show this I will now enumerate some of the causes which
tend to produce the state of mind referred to.
First, it is produced, in some cases, by a growing sense of the
unsatisfactory nature of worldly pursuits and enjoyments. With
all the love which there is in the human soul for these things,
there is a constant tendency to become dissatisfied with them,
and to feel that they are not what the soul needs. They pall
upon the senses, and there is need of new excitements and new
forms of attractiveness to make them interesting. It requires
much effort to keep up an interest in worldly things, and much
variety and novelty to prevent a growing distaste for them; for
there are wants of the soul which no brilliancy, change, and
novelty in those pursuits can meet. Solomon made a designed
experiment on this subject, under all the advantages which any
human being can hope for, and reached results which all would
reach in similar circumstances:-~" I made me great works; I
builded me houses; I planted me vineyards: I made me gardens




128               THE WAY OF SALVATION.
and orchards, and I planted trees in them of all lind of fruits:
I made me pools of water, to water therewith the wood that
bringeth forth trees: I got me servants and maidens, and had
servants born in my house; also I had great possessions of
great and small cattle above all that were in Jerusalem before
me: I gathered me also silver and gold, and the peculiar treasure
of kings and of the provinces: I gat me men singers and women
singers, and the delights of the sons of men, as musical instruments, and that of all sorts.-And whatsoever mine eyes desired
I kept not from them, I withheld not my heart from any joy;
for my heart rejoiced in all my labour: and this was my portion
of all my labour. Then I looked on all the works that my hands
had wrought, and on the labour that I had laboured to do:
and, behold, all was vanity and vexation of spirit, and there was
no profit under the sun," Eccles. ii. 4-11.  And who, in similar
circumstances, has not had similar reflections? How difficult is
it always to prevent such reflections from  springing up in the
mind as the following:-' To what purpose is all this P  Is this
the end for which man should live?  Is this the way in which
God designs that rational creatures should be happy? Will this
save me?  Will this prepare me to die?  Will this fit me to
dwell in a holy heaven? Is there, after all, no better portion
for man  than costly viands, and gay apparel, and splendid
equipages, and music, and dancing P?  Has man been formed for
no nobler end than to eat and drink and be merry, and can he
obtain nothing that shall be substantial and permanent?  Is
there nothing —nothing in this world or in any other-that can
meet the deep desires of our nature-the aspirations of the
undying mind for substantial good?'  These reflections may
occur in a ball-room; in a brilliant party of pleasure; in a
palace; on a bed of down; and when the incense of the flattery
that we have long sought is wafted around us.  And these
reflections are often aided much by the chagrin and mortification,
the neglect and the coldness, the jealousies and heart-burnings
experienced in the world; and, chafed and oppressed by these,
the mind begins to inquire whether there is no world that will
furnish substantial good,-to reflect soberly, and to ask, What
must be done to be saved?
Secondly, there are, in other cases, or in these, the secret,
silent workings of the conscience, prompting to the  lnquiry,
TT'hat must be clone to be saved? Conscience is sometimes armed
with a terrific power-a power that rives the soul as the lightning does the gnarled oak; but it is not that to which I now
refer.  It has also a comparatively milder and more humble




WHAT MUST I DO TO BE SAVED?                  129
office; a gentler power; a stiller voice. It silently reminds the
soul of the obligations of religion, and gently and kindly awakens
it to reflection, and stimulates it to the performance of longneglected duty. It becomes a friendly counsellor, makes kind
suggestions, urges us to pray, keeps before us the remembrance
of some duty that is unperformed, or some sin which we strive
in vain to forget. It leads us to " think on our ways," to
"' ponder the paths of our feet," and opens to us reflections of
the deepest interest in regard to that which is past and that
which is to come, and thus leads the mind along gently to the
inquiry, " What must I do to be saved P"
Thirdly, there are in other cases the recollected instructions
of earlier years, now strangely and mysteriously brought to the
memory. The father, the mother, the pastor, the Sabbath school
teacher, the friend, may be dead, or may be far far away. But their
lessons of virtue and their counsels may come with freshness
and power to your minds as you stand in calm contemplation
near their graves.  Or, roaming in a distant clime, far away
from the home of your childhood, in the land of strangers, where
no one seems to feel an interest in you, and you feel an interest
in no one of the multitudes around you, you may think of the
counsels of a parent, of the family Bible, of the morning and
evening sacrifice in your father's house; and the question, which
may scarcely have occurred to you for years, may spring up
anew in your mind, " What shall I do to be saved P"  Or, even
in the dense and crowded city, a stranger amidst the jostling
multitudes that care neither for you nor for one another; where
you know no one, and no one knows you; where no one of all
that crowd along the thronged avenue greets you with a kind
look, or would care if you should die; where no one sympathizes
with your sorrows, or would miss you if you were never seen
there again,-in the unutterable sense of loneliness which a
strange youth feels in such a city,-your home, and your father,
and your mother, and the influence of religion there, and the
sweet and calm peace which religion produces there, or the calm
peace which it shed on the last hours of some loved one, may
come to your memory, and the involuntary question may arise,
" Wha.t shall I do to be saved "  Or perhaps, having long
forgotten these lessons, now on the deep, or in a distant land,
or remote from the scenes of childhood in your own country,
you may take up the long-neglected Bible, and the first passage
which may greet you may be one that shall start the inquiry,' What lmust I do to be saved?"
Fourthly, there is another class in whose minds the inquiry




130             THE WAY OF SALVATION.
may be started by some of the scenes of nature-some of the
works of God, that may fix the roving thoughts, and lead the
mind upward and onward.  Creation is full of God, and his
voice may be heard in everything round about us. When, weary
with the toils of the day, the merchant comes to his dwelling;
when the " ploughman homeward plods his weary way;" when
the seaman in a calm sees his sails hang loosely, and his "ship
like a painted thing upon a painted ocean;" when in the still
evening the zephyr gently breathes, God speaks often in tones
as gentle to the soul. Then the mind is calm, and the passions
are hushed, and nature is still, and all in and around prompts
to serious thought, and leads the soul to the contemplation of
the world to come. And so when the thunder-peal breaks on
the hills, or over the dwelling in the silence of the night; when
the tempest sweeps along, and the oak is prostrated on the
mountain, God often speaks to the soul and awakens solemn
thought. Luther was awakened to a sense of sin and danger,
and led to ask the question, " What must I do to be saved?"
by the terrors of the tempest, and God made the lightning and
the storm the means of arousing his mind to do the great work
which he had for him to accomplish. He was then twenty-two
years of age. He was on his way from his home to the academy
at Erfurth.  On his journey he was overtaken by a violent
storm. The thunder roared. He threw himself upon the ground
on his knees. His hour he apprehended had come. Death,
judgment, and eternity were before him in all their terrors, and
spoke with a voice which he could no longer resist. "Encompassed," as he said, " with the anguish and terror of death, he
made a vow that, if God would deliver him from this danger,
he would forsake the world and devote himself to his service."*
That event changed the course of his life-changed the destiny
of nations.  And who, in conscious danger, has not felt the
inquiry cross the mind, as Luther and the jailer did, " What
must I do to be saved?"
Fifthly, there are others in whose minds the inquiry is started by
the dispensations of Providence. The providence which embarrasses you in your business; which throws unexpected obstacles
in your way when you are grasping the world, and living for
this world alone; which strips away your property by causes
which you could not foresee and could not surmount,-how
much adapted is it to show you that there is a Presiding Being
over the affairs of men; to lead you to inquire why he placed
these obstacles in your path; to lead you to ask the question
* D'Aubigne.




WHAT MUST I DO TO BE SAVED?                  131
whether there are not higher ends for which you should live?
The providence which takes away your health, and lays you for
weeks on a bed of languishing, appears to be designed to lead
you to reflect on the feebleness of your frame; on the uncertain
tenure of the hold on life; on the higher scenes which await
man in the future world; and to lead you to ask on that bed
of languishing, "What must I do to be saved?"  The providence which takes away a lovely child, how much fitted is it to
lead the mind to sober thought! Yesterday it was blithe and
playful, and your home was happy; to-day it lies pale and cold
in death, and you cannot but feel that God has designed that
you should pause in your career, and reflect on death and the
coming world.
And, Sixthly, there are those, in great numbers, who are led
to reflection and to inquiry by the warnings of his word. The
preaching of the gospel is God's great ordinance for awakening
the attention of men to the subject of religion, and arousing
them  to thought and solicitude in regard to their immortal
welfare. To secure this is one of the great ends contemplated
by the institution of the ministry of reconciliation; and it is
every way adapted to the end in view.  Of those who become
Christians, by far the largest portion are awakened to a sense of
their sin and danger under the preaching of the gospel; and
more frequently the inquiry is started, " What must I do to be
saved," in this manner than in all other methods combined.
I might go on to speak of many other methods by which the
attention of the sinner is arrested, and by which he is brought
to serious reflection:-his own solemn thoughts when alone; the
conversation of a stranger; the counsel of a friend; the Bible
that he casually opens; the tract that is laid in his way; the
book that he has been induced by a friend to read; the deep
feeling that sometimes pervades a community in a revival of
religion; or some secret, silent influence of the Eternal Spirit on
his mind that he is never able to trace to any secondary cause.
One thing cannot but strike you in all this: it is the variety of
methods-the numberless ways-in which God makes his appeal
to men; the countless modes of access which he has to the soul,
prompting to the great inquiry, " What must I do to be saved?"
And yet, in all cases, with all the endless variety of means
employed, and all the variety of emotions and feelings produced,
arising from age, and temperament, and diversity of education,
and the manner in which the appeal is brought to the mindthe general character of the feeling is the same: it is awakened
interest in religion; it is a growing conviction of its importance;




132               THE WAY  OF SALVATION.
it is calm  reflection; it is a sense of danger and insecurity in
the present state; it is a feeling that somethingr oughAt to be clone
in order to be saved.
At this stage, however, everything seems to be full of perplexity.  Doubts arise on the whole subject of religion.  What
is to be believed as true and what is to be done, are alike points
on which the mind is often in the utmost perplexity.  Amidst
the thousand opinions entertained in the church, which is to be
believed?  Who shall tell us what is true?  Who shall guide
us into the path of peace? And another thing is equally perplexing —-what is to be lone.  Something, it is clear, should be
done; but what shall it be?  In this state of feeling, the jailer
came to Paul and Silas to know  what should be done; in a
similar state of feeling many would give worlds if some one
would tell them with certainty what they should do.
I desire now, in conclusion, to suggest a few  thoughts, by
way of counsel, applicable to this state of mind.
(1.) The first is, Cherish the disposition to reflection.  Be
willing to thinkl on your ways; to ponder calmly and seriously
so important a subject as religion.  Be willing to think it all
over-the past, the present, the future; your character, your
hopes, your dangers, your duties, your privileges, and  your
destiny.  Be willing to think on the question whether religion
is true; What it is; whether its hopes may be yours.  He is not
far fiom  the kingdom  of God who is willing to think on the
subject of religion, and in all honesty to follow out the result of
his own reflections.  Need I urge any more reasons for this
counsel?  It is a subject worthy of thought. Assuredly, if there
is anything that can properly claim the attention of the human
mind it is this.  What are all things else in respect to us, compared with the salvation of our own. souls?  AnId who is injured
by calm  and careful thought?  Who is made the poorer, or the
less worthy to be respected, by sober reflection?  What merchant is more likely to fail by reflecting carefully on his business;
what youth endangers his reputation by considerate reflection on
his character and plans; what student is retarded in the attainment of knowledge by attentive thoughtfulness on his studies;
what physician is injured by a close application of his mind to
the symptoms of disease and the right methods of healing; what
lawyer by close attention to the law  and the evidence in the
case entrusted to him?  But again, what interests are there
which are not jeoparded by recklessness and want of thought?
HIow  often is fortune  squandered; is health  ruined; is the
opportunity of preparingl for honour and usefulness lost; is life




WHAT MUST I DO TO BE SAVED?                     133
itself the forfeit of a want of reflection! How many bankrupts
are there who might have been saved by timely thought; how
many drunkards who might have been happy and useful by
proper reflection; how many are there now useless to the world,
who woulc have been ornaments to society if in early years they
had  reflected  calmly  on  their privileges, and  thoughtfully
pursued the paths of learning or business! I counsel you, therefore, to cherish every serious thought that passes through your
minds on the subject of religion, and to be willing to follow
where sober thought would lead you.
(2.) I counsel you to avoid the scenes which would be likely
to dissipate your serious reflections.  You may be less ready to
follow me in this than in the former, and yet this is essential if
you would secure the salvation of the soul.  But do not misunderstand me.  I do not counsel you to immure yourself in a
cloister.  I advise not a useless and a gloomy asceticism.  I ask
you not to be morose, sour, dissocial, melancholy.  All these I
regard as infinitely far from religion, alike in its beginnings ei
the soul, and in its highest progress towards perfection.
But there are scenes which are unfavourable to serious reflection, and which tend to dissipate serious thought, and which one
must consent to leave for ever if he would serve God and follow
the Saviour.  The theatre, the ball-room, the circles of gaiety,
the places of revelry-how can they be made to be favourable to
serious thought; how are they consistent with an earnest desire
to be saved?  Between those scenes and the calm  and serene
spirit of the gospel-between the spirit which reigns there, and
that which reigned in the bosom  of the Saviour, there is such
a contrast that the one cannot live where the other does; and if
you make up your mind to have the one, you must make up
your mind not to have the other.
I am  sensible that, even to a mind under the degree of
thoughtfulness which I have now been endeavouring to describe,
it is one of the most difficult things that I can exhort you to do,
to follow the counsel which I am now giving.  So fascinating is
that gay and brilliant world; so many of your friends find.
pleasure there; so entirely may you seem to be shut out firom all
society if you withdraw from that; so many ties bind you to it
by a network so interlaced and so strong; and so much would
you dread to have it whispered around to " lover and friend"
that you are becoming serious, that I do not wonder at the difficulty of breakling away. Yet, there is ino option.  If you wouldi
be a Christian, if you wvould find the vway of salvation, you must
make up your mind, if need be, to b'ar the frowvns, the sneers,




134              THE WAY OF SALVATION.
the ridicule of the world-for the path to heaven and to glory
lies not through scenes of vanity and of sin.
(3.) I counsel you to pray. For what is more appropriate
than prayer in the state of mind which I have described?
Where should one go who is asking what he shall do to be
saved, if not to God  You are just beginning to grapple with
great questions that are too much for the unaided human mind.
You are beginning to think about themes on which the profoundest human intellects have been employed, and which are
the subject of the contemplation of angels and seraphs. You are
beginning to reflect on the past, and the future; the distant, the
grand, the infinite, when every thought takes hold on eternity.
You are commencing an inquiry which has never been continued
long, and which has never been conducted to a happy issue
without prayer. To your mind all is dark, and in this inquiry
you need above all things the guidance of the Father of lights, and
you will never find the path to heaven till " in his light you see
light."  What, then, can be more appropriate for a human being
in these circumstances than prayer?
Are there any of you whose minds are in the condition described
in this discourse-serious, thoughtful, pondering the question,
What shall I do to be saved? Go to your closets. Pray. Alone
with the God that made you —with the Father of lights-with
him  who hears prayer-ask him  this great question, What
must I do to be saved?   If your Maker has never heard
the voice of prayer before come from your lips, this night, ere
you slumber, let him hear the humble, fervent cry for knowledge,
for mercy, for salvation.




SEIMON XI.
CONVICTION  OF SIN.
PSALM li. 4.-" Against thee, thee only, have I sinned, and done this evil
in thy sight; that thou iighitest be justified when thou speakest, and be
clear when thou judgest."
THE plan of salvation is designed for sinners.  None are saved
by that plan who are not regarded as such.  The gospel has
no significancy unless it be supp:sed that men are violators of
the law of God. It has no peculiar adaptation to men except
on that supposition.  It seeks to excite the conviction that he
is a sinner in the bosom of every man whom  it addresses, and
it is certain that no one will appreciate its provisions, or be
saved by it, who does not feel and admit that truth in regard to
himself. If there is, therefore, any one who is unwilling to
admit, in the proper sense of the term, that he is a sinner, he
should not entertain the hope of being saved by the gospel, and
should not feel himself specially addressed in any of its communications.  It is indispensable that a man, if he would be
saved, should be convinced of sin. The two preceding discourses
were, respectively, on the state of man as the gospel finds him,
and on the condition of the mind when it begins to reflect on
the subject of religion.  We advance a step further in unfolding
the way of salvation by considering the state of the mind when
under conviction for sin.  I shall explain what is meant by the
term; consider the law of our nature in accordance with which
conviction for sin is produced; and show what it is that the
sinner is convinced of in that state, or what constitutes genuine
conviction of sin.
I. What is meant by the term  conviction of sin.  The short
and perhaps the sufficient explanation of this is, being convinced
of sin so as to feel and ackznozwledge that we are siiners.  The
term  has, however, somewhat of a technical and theological
signification which makes it necessary to explain it somewhat
further; and unfortunately, also, it is so associated in the minds
of many with what they would be pleased to regard as cant or
fanaticism-with Calvinism, or Methodism, or Evangelism-that
it seems necessary, if I can, to do something to remove this
10




136             THIE WAAY OF SALVATION.
impression, and to show you that it is possible that sensible
men may, without compromising their own dignity, become
convinced that they are sinners. I would, then, submit to you
the following remarks:(a) There is a state of mind, very common, which results
from being convinced by argument. A course of reasoning may
be so conclusive that there can be no doubt on the subject. A
mathematical proposition may be so demonstrated; an historical
fact may be so established; a truth in morals may be so clearly
proved; a jury may be so satisfied; a point in theology may be
so defended, that no one can have any doubt on the truth of
the point under consideration. And thus a man may be so
thoroughly convinced that our race is fallen, and that he, as one
of the race, has come into the world with a corrupt nature, that
his mind may be as fully satisfied on this subject as le is of the
truth of a mathematical proposition. Yet it is clear that, though
thus convinced, this latter truth may be held in such a manner
as to make no more impression on his conscience and his heart
than the mathematical demonstration had done.  Though pertaining to itself, yet the mind has the power of looking at it
as a mere abstraction; and nothing is more common than for a
man to be able to prove that he is himself a sinner, or to listen
to an argument clearly demonstrating it, without emotion.
(b) Again, a man may not only look at this as an abstract
argument, but he may have a very distinct recollection of wrong
doing, and yet have no compunction, no remorse. Bly knowing
or supposing that the fact is concealed; or by a cultivated habit
of severe mental discipline; or by the hardening effect of many
acts of guilt on his own soul; or by some perverted views of
mental philosophy, morals, or theology, he may have succeeded
in keeping his mind calm and undisturbed, though he is conscious
that he has done wrong.  The mind may be in such a state as
to contemplate its own past acts of depravity as calmly as it
does the depravity of others, and with as little compunction.
This is the state of mind which men commonly seek; and in
this they are frequently, for a time at least, eminently successful.
(c) Again, there is a kind of conviction of guilt from  the
testimony of others, which may produce as little impression on
the soul. There is a difference, in this respect, between the use
of the word in theology and in the courts. A man is convicted,
or found guilty, by a jury, and is so regarded and treated by
the court. But he may or may not be convinced of the crime
himself, or be sensible of guilt in the matter. lie may be a
hardened wretch, so steeped in crime as to be apparently beyond




CONVICTION OF SIN.                    137
the possibility of feeling; or he may be perfectly innocent of the
crime, though he has been adjudged to be guilty by the jury,
and is so held up to the public by the sentence of the court.
But, in either case, the verdict of the jury and the sentence of
the court have done nothing to convince him that he is guilty.
He is convicted-not convinced. The verdict of the jury and
the judgment of the court may or may not tend to convince
him that he is guilty.  That is a private, personal matter, with
which the jury and the court have nothing to do.  Even if
guilty, the process in the court-room may have made no practical
impression of his own criminality on his mind. He may have
watched the evidence that has been adduced against him with
the utmost attention, and may have no doubt when the verdict
of the jury finding him guilty is rendered, that it is according to
the testimony, and according to truth, and yet neither the evidence nor the verdict may have made any practical impression
of guilt on his own mind.
(d) Again, there is a state of mind in which one who has
been guilty of crime may, in the proper sense of the term, be
convinced of it,-convinced neither as an abstract proposition,
nor by the finding of a jury, nor by the judgment of a court,
but as a personal matter and in the proper sense of the term, so
as to produce a sense of wrong doing-distress in view of the
past, and apprehension in view  of what is to come. This is
conviction of sin.
This, if not sufficiently plain already, can be made plain by a
reference to the case already adverted to.  A man on trial for
his life has been convicted by a jury. We will suppose it to
be a case where he before knew that he had committed the
crime, but he was a hardened offender.  For the crime when
committed, or subsequently before the trial, or during the trial,
he had had no compunction.  He had so disciplined his moral
and his physical frame as to obliterate all the natural expressions
of criminality, and even so as to suppress all feeling of guilt.
He went through the whole process of the trial with an unperturbed spirit, scarcely feeling any emotion, and betraying none.
His was such an intellectual, and, to a great degree, such an
abstract employment in watching the progress of the trial-in
estimating the weight of the testimony-and in contemplating
the skill of the counsel, that, in union with his former hardened
character, and with the hope of escape, he may scarcely have
had during the trial a single compunctious visitation of remorse.
When the trial is over, however, and he is remanded to his
lonely prison, and the darkness of the night in his cell draws




138              THE WAY OF SALVATION.
on, and he has opportunity to reflect on the past, a kind of
conviction may occur very different from  that which has been
found by the court and jury. Then it is of no use longer to
dissemble. Then there is no hope of concealment. Then the
mind is no longer diverted from its own criminality by watching
the evidence, or by observing the intellectual conflicts of the
counsel, or by indulging the hope of escape from conviction. Then
nature acts, and the proper effect of guilt is felt in the soul.
Then there comes to his soul the recollection of the nature and
claims of the law which he has violated; the evil motives which
actuated him; the base passions which controlled him; the
wrong which has been done to an individual or to the community; the sight of the suffering victim; the dishonour which
he has brought upon himself or his family; the shame of the
public death which he is to suffer; the better instructions which
he had in his childhood, and of the better life which he might
have led: and all these topics now find their way to his heart
and conscience. This state of mind is quite different from what
is meant by the conviction implied in the verdict of a jury.
That is a declaration that he is guilty at the bar of his country;
this, that he is guilty at the bar of conscience and of God.
This is what I mean by conviction of sin. It is not merely
that which is produced by argument; it is not merely that
which arises from  an intellectual process convincing one in
general that he, as a man, is a sinner, as all other men are; it
is that which exists when he sees and feels personally that he is
guilty before God, and when the feeling is attended by the
distress, trouble, apprehension and alarm, which, by the laws
of our nature, are the proper concomitants of the consciousness
of guilt.
I have only to say further, under this head, that this conviction of sin is, under the Divine government and in the plan of
salvation, preliminary to, and necessary to, pardon. In a human
government it may or it may not be. An executive in pardoning a convict from the penitentiary may not require this; or may
not act in view of it, if it does exist; nor would he feel bound
to extend pardon in any case where it did exist-for pardon,
under any human government, is not founded on this. The
pardoned man, there may be still a hardened offender, or he may
have been innocent all along, and in either case may have never
felt any of the compunctions of guilt. It might contribute
much, indeed, in a given case, to dispose an executive to pardon
an offender if he was satisfied that he was truly penitent, but
he would not feel bound on that account to pardon him  if it




CONVICTION  OF SIN.                     139
were so, or to withhold pardon if it were not; nor would pardon
ever be extended on that sole ground at all.  Not so in the
Divine administration.  There the genuine conviction-the feeling of personal guilt-is an indispensable preliminary to pardon;
and there, wherever and whenever it truly exists, by an arrangement in the plan of salvation it secures forgiveness.
II. My second object was to consider the law of our nature in
accordance with which this conviction of sin is produced.
(a) That law, when nature acts freely, is simply this, —that
when we have done wrong we feel guilty, or distressed on
account of it.  The mind itself decides that wrong has been
done; the conscience rebukes and troubles us for having done
it.  This is an internal feeling; it springs up in the mind
itself; it is the result of its own mysterious mechanism; it may
be conceived of as existing apart from any apprehension of what
is to come, and apart from any outward expression or manifestation whatever.  It is simple self-condenlation of the act-a
sense of wrong-doing —a sense of ill-desert.  In  the actual
arrangements, however, it is connected with two things which
serve to characterize it: (1) one is, the apprehension of punishment in the future-for the soul is so made as to feel that, if
guilty, there is a Supreme Being whose wrath is to be feared;
and (2) the other is, that, in our present bodily organization, it
has a proper outward expression or sign.  When nature acts
freely, guilt is indicated by the blush of shame, the trembling
limbs, the averted or downcast eye, the suspicious and suspecting look, the disposition to withdraw fiom the presence and the
gaze of men.  The God of nature, as he made man, intended
that guilt should thus express itself, and it would always do it
if the laws of our being were acted out.
(b) The design of this law of nature is threefold, and it is as
beneficent as it is marvellous; it could have been devised only
by a God who is at the same time just and good.  It is (1), to
deter us from committing crime by this consciousness of wrongby the fear of this terrible rebuke-the dread of this self-condemnation; (2), to induce us to repair a wrong that has been
done, since under the regular law of our being we can never
find peace unless confession is made and the wrong is repaired;
and (3), to be a means of recovering us from an evil course, and
saving us from future suffering and sin, when we have done
wrong.  It is thus a great moral means of governing the world,
and is thus also connected with a scheme of recovery from sinnimrought into the whole plan of salvation.  If man would
always regard this he would be deterred from  sin; were it not




140              THE WAY OF SALVATION.
for this, he, having sinned, could never be redeemed and saved.
As it is, the plan of salvation will yet be seen to be based
on great laws of our nature, and to be in great measure their
development.
(c) But this great law of our nature, I need not remark, is
not always operative.  The instances already referred to, and
thousands of well-known cases in the world, sufficiently illustrate
this. The reasons why it is not so are too numerous to be
specified here, and are not immediately necessary to the purpose
which I have in view. I have said that if nature were true to
herself, or rather if we were true to nature, the act of crime
would be always and immediately followed by the convictions
and by the indications of guilt,-the blush of conscious criminality; the trembling of the frame; the apprehension of the
wrath of God. But crime is committed often under the influence
of strong passions, and the passion lingers after the act is done,
and does not immediately leave the mind clear and free to act.
Or, we dread the convictions of guilt, and try to vindicate
ourselves, and by perverted reasoning ward off the consciousness
of criminality.  Or, we fear the shame of the manifestation of
conscious guilt, and learn to discipline our frame so that it shall
not betray us. Or, we have a fancied interest in the evil course,
and by becoming absorbed in it turn the mind from the contemplation of the real guilt. Or, we bring ourselves under another
law  of our being-that by constantly practising iniquity we
become less sensible of the evil; we acquire a confirmed habit;
we make the conscience less susceptible and less quick in its
decisions; we blind the mind to nice moral distinctions, and we
harden the heart to the enormity of evil.  In this way we learn
to commit iniquity without blushing, without shame, and without remorse.  The eye becomes fixed, and the hand steady, and
the frame firm, even when doing conscious wrong. Men learn even
to command the blood so that it shall not mantle the cheek to
betray them, and learn to make the forehead smooth and cloudless.
They go coolly into the work of crime and steep their hands in
blood, or practise iniquity for years, with no sense of remorse,
no rebuke of conscience. The cheek of the harlot, where the last
blush of modesty has long since disappeared; the steady hand
of the assassin; the calm step of the midnight robber; the cool
purpose of the seducer of innocence; the " seared conscience" of
the impenitent sinner; the unperturbed spirit of the man that
neglects his God and Saviour, show how effectual may be this
effort on the part of the guilty, and how the benevolent intentions of this law of our nature may be frustrated.  Thus the




CONVICTION OF SIN.                    141
brethren of Joseph, without compunction or remorse, pursued
coolly their purpose toward their younger brother-a helpless,
inoffensive, and lovely boy-first in proposing to kill him, then
in thrusting him into a deep pit, and then in selling him to be
exposed in a slave market in a distant land, and to be subjected
to all the unknown evils of perpetual bondage there.  Thus
David, apparently with as little compunction or remorse at the
time, was guilty of an enormous wrong to a highly meritorious
officer in his army, and a devoted patriot, by first destroying his
domestic peace, and then seeking to kill him: having done him
one wrong, laying a plan to do him another by  plotting his
death, and giving his instructions to that effect with a spirit as
cool and undisturbed as if he had been giving an ordinary order
about storming a fortress. Thus Judas Iscariot seems to have
made the bargain for the betrayal of his Lord with as calm and
unperturbed a spirit as he would have made a contract in the
most common matters of trade, nor did the enormous guilt of the
act which he was doing seem even to occur to his mind. I need
not say that men often show  that they have this power of
extinguishing all the natural marks of guilt, and stifling for
years all its convictions, in committing crime, or in the practices
of vice. The conscience is " seared as with a hot iron;" the soul
becomes lost to all the feelings of guilt, shame, modesty, decency,
self-respect. The great law of nature, so wise and so beneficent,
so essential to the good of society and to the individual himself,
is well nigh obliterated, and, for a time, may cease to act
altogether.
(d) But there are arrangements in the soul itself, in society,
uader the Divine government, and in the plan of salvation, for
reviving that law, and giving it its true place, and it is under
that arrangement that men are convicted of sin. Those arrangements need not be adverted to now at length.  They embrace
all the devices for calling past sins to remembrance; for quickening the power and the decisions of conscience; for bringing
the nature and the degree of guilt before the mind, and for
arousing the souls of the guilty with the apprehensions of the
wrath to come. There may be, from some cause, a mysterious
recalling of those long-forgotten sins to the memory in such a
way that their guilt may be deeply felt.  The tumult of the
mind which existed when the crime was committed may have
subsided; the passion which blinded the soul may have passed away;
the companions and associates of guilt may have gone to other
lands or other worlds; you may have leisure to think of the
past, and may be in circumstances strongly fitted to recall the




142               THTE WAY OF SALVATION.
past to your remembrance:-in solitude; in the silence of the
night-watches; in affliction and trouble; under the admonition
of a friend, or under the preaching of the gospel, or by the
silent influences of the Divine Spirit on the soul, these forgotten
sins may rise to the remembrance, and the soul be overwhelmed
with the consciousness of criminality. A brief allusion to the
cases already referred to, will illustrate the operation of this
law, and at the same time do something to show the nature of
genuine conviction of sin.
Joseph's brethren had sold their innocent young brother to a
company of travelling merchants.  They appear to have divided
the money, and to have supposed that that was an end of the
matter. They invented the most plausible falsehood they could
devise to deceive their aged father, and they gave themselves no
more concern about it.  Years passed away.  A  sore famine
came upon their land. They were constrained to go to a distant
country to buy food. There they were accused and arrested as
spies. A  strict, inquiry was made of them  respecting their
family, their father, their younger brother at home. Everything
was dark to them. A series of calamities had come upon them
which they could not account for. They began to think of their
former conduct and of God; and the wrong which they had
done to their brother, though long forgotten, flashed upon their
minds. "And they said one to another, We are verily guilty concerning our brother, in that we saw the anguish of his soul when
he besought us, and we would not hear; therefore is this distress
come upon us," Gen. xlii. 21. David, little impressed, as it
would seem, at first, with the enormity of his crime, soon forgot
it altogether.  The faithful officer, the patriot, the husband who
might have given him  trouble, was out of the way-having
fallen, as he intended, under the arrows of the Ammonites. The
beautiful wife of that officer, David's partner in crime, he had
taken to his home, and the crimes of adultery and murder appear
to have been forgotten. But a man whom the monarch was accustomed to hear, and who spake in the name of God, came to the
palace, and by one of the most beautiful and touching parables
ever uttered, arrested the attention of the man of guilt, so that
in a moment all the blackness of his crime stood before him,
and broken-hearted he prostrated himself before his offended
God, and pleaded for pardon.  Judas seems to have taken his
thirty pieces of silver, the price of treachery, and to have borne
them off calmly, if not exultingly-having accomplished a leading
purpose of his whole life in obtaining money, and being little
troubled at the wrong that he had done.  lie expected, perhaps,




CONVICTION  OF SIN.                      143
that he who had so often evaded his enemies, and who had
foiled their attempts to seize him, would do it again.  But, contrary to these expectations, the Saviour had suffered himself to
be taken.  He was bound, he was tried, he was condemned, he
was about to be crucified-and in a moment all his own guilt
flashed  in his face.  He threw  down the ignominious price of
blood at the feet of his employers, and, stung by remorse, he
went out and closed his life.
This, as I understand it, is the law of our nature under which
conviction of sin is produced, and all that is done when a sinner
is convicted is in accordance with this law, and is but carrying
out an arrangement designed to deter him from the commission
of crime, and to check and recover him to virtue, if it has been
committed.  It is under this law that the arrangement is made
in the plan of salvation, that no man shall obtain pardon who
does not feel that he is a sinner, or who is not truly convicted
of sin.
Yet it is evident that there may be a false, as well as a
genuine conviction; a conviction that shall arise fiom the mere
dread of punishment, as well as that which arises from  the
intrinsic evil of sin; a conviction which will, as in the case of Judas,
lead a sinner to the act of self-murder, as well as that which will
lead, as in the case of the jailer at Philippi, or Saul of Tarsus,
to true repentance.
III. It remains, then, in the third place, to state wthat is
implied in genZuine coniction of sin.  Of -what is the sinner
convinced or convicted in this state of mind?  This question I
answer by a few specifications.
(1.) It is iis own sin of which he is convicted, and no other.
It must be limited to his own; he cannot be convicted of the
sins of another. We are not carelessly made in this respect. We
are so formed that the sense of guilt or blameworthiness can
arise in the mind only in view of our own sins.  We may have
mzany emotions in view of the sins of others, and be concerned
in them in most important ways, but we never have in regard
to them  the feeling of guilt, and it is no part of the way of
salvation that we should have it.  Over the sins of others we
may indeed weep on account of their folly; as a consequence of
their faults we may suffer; for their sins we may be affected
with shame and confusion of face, if they are the sins of those
to whom  we are united by the ties of blood or friendship, but
we never have the sense of guilt or blameworthiness on account
of them.  You cannot have it.  You can no more have this
feeling on account of the sin of a father than on account of the sin




144             THE WAY OF SALVATION.
of a stranger whom you have never seen before; on account of
the sin of an erring son or daughter than on account of the folly
of the son or daughter of your neighbour or of a stranger; on
account of the sin of Adam than on account of the sin of Judas
Iscariot. You may, indeed, be affected by the one in a way in
which you will not be by the other; you may be made poor, and
begin life under disadvantages, in consequence of the sin of a
father, which you would not incur by the sin of a stranger; you
may be clothed with shame, and filled with sorrow, by the sin
of your own son or daughter, as you would not be by the folly
of others; you may have been-and you have certainly beenaffected by the sin of Adam as you have not been by the sin of
Judas-for to him we trace the origin of all our woes-the fact
that we are fallen, that we have a depraved nature, that we are
to die-and by his sin we may be affected for ever; but you no
more feel guilt in the one case than in the other. You cannot if
you try. You ought not if you could. It is not required of you
in order to be saved; and if you imagine that you do feel guilty
for his sin, or the sin of any other man but yourself, it is simply
an hallucination of the mind. No man ever yet did feel it; no
man ever can. The rocky shores of ocean are not fixed so
firmly as this barrier in regard to the consciousness of guilt; the
stars will fly from their spheres, before this law is changed-that
the consciousness of guilt is attached to personal criminality, and
to nothing else. You have no genuine conviction of sin but that
which arises from your own guilt.
(2.) Genuine conviction of sin is a sense of its evil considered
as committed against God. It is not a feeling produced by the
fact that it has exposed us to shame, to disadvantage, or to
punishment; or that our fellow-men may have been wronged by
us; or that it will blast our reputation, or will overwhelm those
who are dear to us with disgrace. That one or more or all of
these classes of feeling may be connected with genuine conviction
of sin, there can be no doubt; but it is equally clear that there
may be genuine and deep conviction where not one of them may
exist, and that all these combined would not of themselves be
such conviction; for a man may have a deep apprehension of
shame, of disgrace, and of punishment, and still never have felt
that he was blameworthy.  This idea which I am now presenting is the prominent one in my text:-" Against thee, thee only,
have I sinned, and done this evil in thy sight."  It was true
that David had committed an enormous wrong against a fellowman; it was true that he had been guilty of an atrocious evil
against society, and against good morals; but still, all this evil




CONVICTION  OF SIN.                     145
terminated on God, and the evil considered as committed against
hfim was so vast and overwhelming that every other aspect of it
was absorbed and lost.  Whoever else was wronged, he was
most wronged; whoever was injured, the great evil in the case
consisted in the violation of his law; and whatever wrong had
been done to an individual or to society, the grand evil in the case
consisted in the fact that God had been disobeyed, and his law
set at nought.  So sin in all cases, whatever may be its form,
and whoever may be affected by it, is a violation of the law of
God, and its grand evil is to be found in that fact. Approved
by men or disapproved; followed with honour or disgrace;
punished or not punished; known to the world or unknown, it
has an intrinsic evil in its nature as a violation of the Divine
law; and it is that evil which is always contemplated, and which
is the source of the sorrow in genuine repentance. It is, then,
in the view of the mind, an evil and a bitter thing. If you conceal it, it does not alter its nature; if you could assure the penitent that it would be for ever unknown to any human being, and
would never be followed by either shame or punishment, it
would not essentially change the nature of his feelings towards
it.  He is sad at the remembrance of the fact that he has committed it; he feels himself degraded, and mortified, and debased
that he has ever been guilty of violating the law of his God.
(3.) Though the fear of shame and punishment may not be
the leading idea in genuine repentance, and may not even enter
into it at all, yet there is a feeling always that it deserves punishment.  This is inseparable, in the constitution of our minds,
from the conviction of guilt. The guilty child feels that it
would be right in a parent to punish him; the man who has
violated the laws of his country, and who has any proper sense.
of the evil of his course, feels that a penalty affixed to the law
is right; the man who is sensible that he has sinned against his
God feels that it is right that God should manifest his displeasure, and that the guilty should suffer.  He may not be able to
determine the amount of punishment that is due to his act, nor
may he see clearly as yet that his sin deserves eternal punishment, or that it should throw  him  beyond the reach of mercy
and hope,-but it is of the nature of all true conviction of sin to
feel that punishment is deserved, and that he who inflicts it is
right and just.  Thus David in the text says, " That thou
mightest be justified when thou speakest, and be clear when
thou judgest."  A man cannot feel genuine conviction of sin and
not feel that he ought to be punished.  Hence men, under the
pressure of this conviction, come and confess an act of murder,




146               THE  ~WAY  OF SALVATION.
and give themselves up to be punished. And hence sinners,
when under genuine conviction of sin, look forward to punishment in the future world, and dread it, not so much because it
is said that they will be punished, as because guilt always
supposes that it will be so, and that it is right that it should
be so.
These three things, therefore, I think will always enter into
true conviction of sin,-that it is our own sins, and not those
of another, on account of which we feel guilty; that the primary
and principal reason of our conviction is the fact that sin is
itself an evil as committed against God; and that there is
involved essentially the feeling that it deserves the expression
of displeasure on the part of Him whose law has been violated.
Ilow  deep these convictions may be; how long they may be
continued; how pungent and distressing our feelings under them;
and how the distress is to be relieved, are other points of inquiry
which it is not necessary now to consider.  There are two or
three remarks, however, which seem  necessary to complete the
just view of the subject, and with these I shall close.
(1.) These laws of our nature, on which conviction of sin is
based, will be likely to operate in the future as well as in the
present; in the world beyond the grave as well as in the land
of the living. Why should they not? There is to be no change
in our essential constitution; and far on in the most distant
portion of eternity to which we can now look forward, we shall
be under the administration of the same God, and the laws of
our being will be essentially the same. Past sin, though long
forgotten, may be called to remembrance.  Time, distance, new
circumstances, do not change or diminish its power over the
soul.  After the lapse of ten or twenty-of a hundred or a
million of years, it may rise to the mind with all the freshness
which it had at the time of committing the deed, and inflicting the same keen and fearful tortures, and exciting the same
deep and dreadful alarms in the prospect of the future, which it
ought to have caused then. He gains nothing, then, who succeeds
in stifling conviction now; he has secured no permanent peace
who has, for the present, wholly forgotten his past crimes.
(2.) It accords with my general subject, and with this part
of my general plan, to say that in a way of salvation adapted
to man, it is necessary that there should be something that will
meet this law of our nature-that will be founded on the fact
of its existence-and that will prevent the effect to which I
have adverted in the future:-that is, that shall recognise the
fact that man is a sinner, and that he is liable to be convicted




CONVICTION  OF SIN.                      147
of sin; and that will so dispose of sin that it shall not produce
distress and anguish in the future periods of our existence-at
some time in our present life, on the bed of death, or beyond
the grave.  This must be done, and done in a way that shall
accord with the proper method of dealing with sin and with the
conscience. It will not do this to teach men to forget it-for
they cannot always forget it; it will not do it to teach them
that sin is a trifle-for God will not let them always feel that
it is a trifle; it will not do this to introduce them into the circles
of vain amusements-for men cannot always be englaed in vain
amusements; it will not do it to teach them  some false system
of religion that shall be a present opiate to the conscience-for
we are going to a world not of falsehood, but of truth.
(3.) It seems to follow from the view taken that the only way
by which this can be cone is by some system of effectual pardonz.
If sin is pardoned-if it is freely and fully forgiven, all is done
that can be done to meet those laws of our being, and to place
the soul in the condition in which it would have been if it had
not sinned.  If sin is pardoned, of course there is nothing to be
dreaded as to punishment in the future; if sin is pardoned, the
offender is placed essentially in the circumstances in which he
was before he had sinned.  A scheme of salvation, then, that is
adapted to man,?must embody and express some way by which
a sinner may be forgiven.
(4.) Peace in such a case can be found only in connexion with
confession of sin,-confession made not to a third person, but to
the One whose law has been violated.  All genuine conviction
of sin prompts to this, and David was but acting out the law
of our nature when he said, " I acknowledge my transgressions,
and my sin is ever before me.  Against thee, thee only, have I
sinned;" Job, when he said, " Behold, I am vile; what shall I
answer thee? I will lay my hand upon my mouth;" the prodigal
son, when he said, " I have sinned against heaven and in thy
sight;" and the publican, when, not being able to lift up his
eyes to heaven, he said, " God be merciful to me a sinner."'" He that covereth his sins shall not prosper: but whoso confesseth and forsaketh them shall find mercy."  You cannot find
permanent peace by attempting to stifle the conviction of sin.
You cannot by endeavouring to cover and conceal your offences.
You cannot by suffering them  to pass from your remembrance.
You cannot by confessing your sins against God to man-though
robed in a priestly vestment and consecrated with holy oil. You
must go to God-a poor penitent-laden with the conviction of
guiltrcenouncing  all  ttempts to justify yourself-admitting




148              THE WAY OF SALVATION.
the full truth that you are a sinner-not attempting to cloak or
conceal one of your transgressions; saying substantially, as David
did, " Have mercy upon me, 0 God, according to thy lovingkindness; according unto the multitude of thy tender mercies
blot out my transgressions. WVash me throughly from  mine
iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin. For I acknowledge my
transgressions, and my sin is ever before me.  Against thee,
thee only, have I sinned," Psa. li. 1-4.  So pleading, by faith
in the blood that cleanseth from  all sin-the blood of the Redeemer-your "sins will be blotted out as a cloud, and your
transgressions as a thick cloud," Isa. xliv. 22.  So pleading, you
Mill hear the voice which so often gave relief to the troubled
soul when the Redeemer walked on the earth, " Thy sins be
forgiven thee, go in peace!"




SERMON XII.
THE STRUGGLES OF A CONVICTED SINNER.
MARKE x. 22, 23. —"And he was sad at that saying, and went away
grieved; for he had great possessions. And Jesus looked round about, and
saith unto his disciples, How hardly shall they that have riches enter into
the kingdom of God!"
MrTT. viii. 21, 22.-" And another of his disciples said unto him, Lord,
suffer me first to go and bury my father. But Jesus said unto him, Follow
me, and let the dead bury their dead."
LUKE ix. 61, 62. —  And another also said, Lord, I will follow thee; but
let me first go bid them farewell which are at home at my house. And
Jesus said unto him, No man, having put his hand to the plough, and
looking back, is fit for the kingdom of God."
EVERY one who has become a Christian has been conscious of a
struggle of greater or less intensity, and of longer or shorter
duration, before he found peace in believing.  This struggle
arises from the conviction of duty and the sense of guilt and of
danger, on the one hand, and the love of the world and of sin,
in some form, on the other.  The intensity and the duration of
this struggle will be varied much by the character of the individual; will be modified much by his time of life or by the kind
of instruction which he receives; will be intense as his love of
sin may be intense and his conviction of its guilt may be intense,
and protracted as the love of sin and the world has been made
strong in his heart.
The cases to which I have referred in opening this discourse
are, each of them, an illustration of this thought:-a few  of
the many to be found in the New Testament, and all of them
having a counterpart in the application of the. gospel to the
hearts of men in every age.  The first is that of a rich young
man-a man full of ardour, of many amniable qualities, and a
sincere inquirer on the subject of religion-whom  the Saviour
required to give up his wealth, and consecrate it to God if he
would follow him; and the struggle in his case was between
his conviction of the necessity of religion and his love of his
possessions.  The second was that of a man whom  the Saviour
called to follow him, but who asked that he might first go and
bury his father; and the struggle in his case was between his




150              THE WAY  OF SALVATION.
conviction of a duty which he owed to Christ and a desire to
be saved, on the one hand, and a strong domestic tie-one of
the strongest that can be conceived of —and a supposed pressing
duty, growing out of that, on the other.' The third was a similar
case-that of a man who expressed a willingness to follow him,
but who merely asked a delay that he might go, before he gave
himself up to be a follower of Christ, and take a proper leave
of his own friends and family connexions:-a parting struggle
between his love of those friends and the love of the Saviour.
In all these you will perceive essentially the same conflict of
mind:-the command of Christ, his invitations and appeals, a
strong sense of duty, a conviction of the necessity of religion,
on the one hand; and some form  of earthly attachment, some
worldly engagement, some desire of respite and delay, some yet
unsundered tie binding to the world, on the other.  This is the
subject to which, at the present time, I propose to ask your
attention: in other words, I. wish to describe the struggles of a
sinner under conviction of sin before he yields to the claims of
the gospel.  I shall endeavour to describe that struggle, and to
show  the reasons why a sinner in that state is not converted.
In doing  this, I shall seek to point out the nature of the
struggle; the causes which produce it; and some illustrations
of it as a mental operation, and as preventing the conversion
of the soul to God.
The struggle may be described, in general, in one word.  It
is a conflict between a conviction of duty, and an unwillingness
to do it; between a sense of what is righlt, and an inclination to
do wrong; between a feeling that God ought to be obeyed, and
the love of sin and of the wvorld which prevents obedience. It is a
conflict which shall have the mastery-conscience or pleasure;
benevolence or selfishness; religion or the world.  The person
referred to is sensible of the evil of the course which h1 is pursuing, but is not prepared to abandon it; he is convinced that
he is a sinner, but is not willing to forsake his sins; he is unhappy in the pursuit of the world, but is not wholly ready to
become a Christian; he feels in some degree the force and the
reasonableness of the commands of Christ, and has some desire
to be his follower, but he loves the world, as the rich young
man did his possessions, or he has some strong worldly tie which
he cannot yet sever, as he did who pleaded that he might go
and bury his father; or he who asked that he might be suffered
to bid farewell to those at his house. Two opposite things, both
very powerful in their nature, are brought into conflict, and produce an agitation of the soul, as when counter currents of air




STRUGGLES OF A CONVICTED SINNER.                 151
meet in the sky, driving the clouds on each other and causing
fierce tempests and storms, or as when a mighty river rolls down
into the ocean, and meets the ebbing tide when driven onward
by a mighty wind. Thus we have seen the clouds meet together
on the hills, driven from the east and the west, heaving in wild
commotion. And thus, too, it is at the mouth of some great river,
as navigators tell us of the river Oregon, where on the one
side a vast and rapid volume of waters is rolled toward the
ocean, and on the other the mighty sea rolls its waves in towards
the descending volume. They meet on the bar, and then occurs
the strife of contending currents.  Rarely are the waters so
smooth that a vessel may enter the mouth of the river safely,
and often the mariner, unable to enter, is compelled to turn the
prow of his vessel and stand again out to sea.  So often in the
soul of man. There are contending passions. There is in each
an unwillingness to yield. There is a long and fearful struggle
before either gives way, and the soul finds peace.
The causes of this struggle or conflict may all be resolved into
the one fact, that there is now a deeply-felt conviction of duty
and of danger coming into conflict with passion, pride, selfishness, worldliness, and the conscious opposition of the heart to a
holy God.
On the one hand, there is the strong conviction of duty, and
a sense of sin and danger more or less deep. The nobler powers
of our nature, long' torpid, are awakened into energy, and demland that the world and sin shall be abandoned, and that God
shall be obeyed. Those powers of the soul that were designed
to prompt to duty, and to lead to the service of God, had been
long inactive.  The conscience had become insensible to the
obligations of religion.  Duty was neglected without exciting
compunction. The lessons of early piety were forgotten. The
Bible was disregarded; the Sabbath was devoted to business, to
light reading, to amusement, to sin; the sanctuary was entered
reluctantly, and only by constraint of parental authority, if at
all, or in accommodation to the wishes of a wife or mother, or
from respect to the decent proprieties of life; the gospel was
heard without feeling and without interest; its solemn warnings
were unheeded, and its invitations slighted; and the great interests of the soul were wholly neglected.  The world was pursued as the grand end of living; plans of gain were formed and
pressed earnestly to their completion; or the life was devoted
to gaiety, without any fear of death, any apprehension of the
coming judglment.  In such a state, sin and the world had
gained a victory, and the soul was held in the chains of a serII




152               THE WAY OF SALVATION.
vitude that was loved, and where the great powers of our nature
had even ceased to struggle.  Sleep, like the sleep of death, had
crept silently over these faculties, and all was calm, and " Satan
led the sinner captive at his will."
But these slumberings are now broken.  The eyes have been
opened on the reality of things.  The spell has been dissolved.
The voice of God is heard addressing the soul, and the aroused
conscience now demands that attention shall be given to that
voice.  A new class of thoughts are summoned before the mind,
and they come in such a way that the soul cannot but regard
them.  The law of God, forbidding all sin, with its severe and
terrible sanctions; the demands of conscience; the evils of ingratitude; the dreadful condition of a heart that is as hard as
adamant; the fearful state of one living without God and without hope; the terribleness of a death without religion; the guilt
of having disregarded God, and of having trampled on the blood
of his dying Son; the crime of having' grieved the Holy Spirit,
and of having slighted the means of grace; the memory of
violated sabbaths and abused mercies; the sins of the past lifepride, selfishness, envy, lust, sensuality; the guilt of having disobeyed a parent, or of having ridiculed his reiigion, —these and
kindred topics now occupy the attention, and the mind can no
longer calm them down as it did in past years, for some mysterious, invisible agency is pressing them upon the soul.
But, on the other hand, there are antagonist feelings as
numerous, and, at present, as strong. There is the love of sin
and of the world.  There is the reluctance to be known to be
serious.  There is the dread of derision.  There is the innate
distaste for religion, and the long-cherished contempt for the
gospel, and hatred of the name of Jesus.  There is the pride
which makes one unwilling to be seen by others reading the
Bible, and the pride which makes one unwilling to pray, though
alone.  There is some fondly cherished plan pertaining to the
world, which has been long in maturing, and which is now in
the process of speedy completion.  There are habits of sin which
have been long indulged, from which it is now not easy to break
away.  There are associations of friendship or business pertaining to this world which it is difficult to sunder.  There are
bonds which unite to the vworld of gaiety and vanity, which it
-oulld require much moral courage, and much strength of resolution, and, I will add, much of the grace of God, to dissolve.
Hence the struggle-the warfare.  The command of God; the
sense of duty; the conviction of guilt; the apprehension of the
wrath to come; the pleadings of the gospel; the love of Christ;




STRUGGLES OF A CONVICTED SINNER.                     153
the dread of death; the feeling that the heart ought to be givenr
to God, on the one hand:-on the other, the love of sin, of the
world, of vanity-the power of sinful passion long indulged,
the friendship of the gay and the worldly, the love of ease, the
pleadings for delay, and the dread of shame-these coiming into
conflict with the others, and keeping up the struggle in the
soul;-now one almost seeming to gain the ascendancy, and
now  the other;at one moment, and under the pressure of
truth, the  soul  "aClmost" ready to surrender and yield to God,
and, at another moment,  the world  and  sin  near to getting
the ascendancy, and the soul almzost free from  anxiety and fiomn
serious thoughts;-now "almost persuaded to be a Christian,"
and now about as near being persuaded to give up the subject
altogether, and to become a thorough infidel or atheist.
This occurs when a sinner is pondering the question whether
he shall become a Christian or not. I speak of the great features
of the struggle, without meaning to say that the conflict is
always thus strongly marked, or that it is always fierce and
protracted.  I am  saying that with greater or less intensity, or
with greater or less duration, such a struggle must exist between
the claims of God and sin-between the love of the world, and
the duty of giving the heart to God.
I may be speaking to some, however, who would call all this
the language of   cant" and mysticism, and who, not finding
this laid cown in the books of mental philosophy that they have
studied, and not having experienced it in their own lives, may
be ready to say with a sneer, that such a conflict must be peculiar to our holy religion; that is, as they in such a case would
use the phrase, that it evinces a disordered state of mind; or a
mind not well balanced; or a disturbed condition of the nervous
temperament; or a process which no well-disciplined intellect
would go through with; a state to which no soul that is manly,
independent, self-controlling, would submit.  It may be useful,
therefore, to offer a few illustrations, to show that this is neither
the result of weakness nor disease; and that a man, when he
becomes a Christian, is acting under mental laws in reference to
religion with which we are familiar everywhere.
In referring now, as was proposed, to some illustrations of
this struggle, I would observe(1) It may occur, substantially, among the heathen.  Whereever there is a human being, there may be a conflict between a
sense of duty on the one hand, and the love of sin on the other;
between conscience and passion; between the claims of religion,
and the love of the world.  Araspes the Persian, as described




154               THE WAY  OF SALVATION.
by Xenophon, said, in order to excuse his treasonable designs,
Certainly, I must have two souls; for plainly it is not one and
the same which is both evil and good; and at the same time
wishes to do a thing and not to do it.  Plainly, then, there are
two souls; and when the' good one prevails, then it does good,
and when the evil one predominates, then it does evil."  So also
Epictetus says, " He that sins, does not do what he would; but
what he would not, that he does."  So Ovid, " Desire prompts
to one thing, but the mind persuades to another.  I see the
good, and approve it, and yet pursue the wrong."  These were
heathen minds.  Araspes and Ovid certainly had never heard
of Christianity; and though Epictetus miglt have heard of it,
yet he was a heathen still, and there is n6 evidence that the
sentiment which he uttered was shaded or modified  in the
slightest degree by any reflex influence of Christian truth. And
yet, can any one fail to see the same laws of mind working, and
the same developments of the state of the soul, as in the passages
from  an eminent Christian which I will now  copy?  " That
which I do, I allow not; for what I would, that do I not; but
what I hate, that do I."  "It is no more I that do it, but sin
that dwelleth in me."  " To will is present with me; but how to
perform  that which is good, I find not," Rom. vii. 15, 17, 18.
Had Araspes, Epictetus, Ovid, been seated as learners at the
feet of the apostle Paul P  No; they had been seated as learners
at the feet of Nature, and had contemplated the human soul as
it is under all forms of religion, and experienced a conflict in
their own minds-a struggle between sin and duty, which may
exist anywhere. That conflict is more common and more decided
under Christianity, only because the light of truth there is more
intense and more widely diffused.  But can you fail in these
extracts to see the same laws working which exist where the
sinner is convicted of sin, and is struggling with the question
whether he shall yield to the claims of duty and of God?
Under the influence of such conflictiing feelings, I doubt not
that the struggle of mind which I am  describing may exist at
all times extensively in the heathen world.  It is the acting out
of human nature-the development of man, a fallen being, yet a
moral agent, under the government of a holy God,-and is an
important means everywhere of restraining him at least from sin,
if it does no. more for him.  We cannot doubt that, constituted
as man is, there was in many an ancient Grecian, Persian, or
Rtoman youth, and is now in the bosom of many a young man
in China, in Arabia, and even in the islands of the South Sea,
and in  Caffraria, a long and arduous conflict between  the




STRUGGLES OF A CONVICTED SINNER.                 155
low and gross passions of the soul, and the claims of morality,
justice, honour, and truth-the claims of God still speaking to
the conscience and the heart.
(2) But this occurs not only among the heathen: it occurs in
Christian lands among those who never become truly converted,
and who, indeed, do not regard the struggle as having any connexion with religion.  There are few of the young in whose
bosoms there is not such a struggle. It occurs when the question is asked by a young man whether he shall obey the nobler
powers of his nature, and be virtuous, respected, and honoured,
or whether he shall surrender himself to some base passion that
is gaining the ascendancy in his soul, and that threatens to
make him the miserable victim of vice. It occurs between every
virtue that can reign in the human bosom, and that can adorn
human nature, and every vice that can establish itself in our
nature, and render us debased, degraded, brutalized, besotted,
poor, and dishonoured.  Take a single instance-alas, how
common and how sad often the issue of the conflict! It relates
to the way in which habits of intoxication are contracted.  Can
any one ever become a victim of intemperance without going
through such a conflict-often a long and fearful strugglebetween his convictions of duty; his self-respect; his early anticipations and hopes, and the fearful passion that is striving so
successfully to gain the mastery over him?  There is a point
in the lives of those who become confirmed inebriates, in which
this question comes fairly before the mind, and in which the
struggle is fearful.  The love of the intoxicating cup-that
unnatural yet fascinating propensity-has begun to be formed.
Habits have been commenced which it is difficult to abandon.
Friendships have been contracted for those who meet to indulge
in the social glass, which it would not now be easy to dissolve.
These habits and these friendships are now becoming stronger
and stronger, and the prospect of their being firmly rivetted on
the soul is daily becoming more and more certain.  It may be
perfectly clear that a little further indulgence will be followed
with certain ruin.  There is, on the other hand, the impending
ruin of reputation; the dread of poverty and disgrace; the apprehended loss of peace;-there are the rebukes of conscience; the
solemn commands of God; the counsels and entreaties of parents
and friends;-there is the dread of the drunkard's death, and
the fear of the retribution beyond the tomb,-all these, in the
sober moments, come with power to the soul, and often produce
a fearful struggle.  I believe that no man, young or old, is perfectly safe from the danger and the horror of intemperance, but




156               THE WAY OF SALVATION.
he who wholly and absolutely abstains from  the intoxicating
boAwl-for there has been no class of human virtues hitherto
that has constituted a perfect security where there has. been
indulgence;-but still, it is true, that just at the point of conflict
now under consideration any man  might be, if he would, saved
from  danger; but if he yields here, he may be gone for ever.
On the great river that flows west of the Rocky Mountains to
the ocean-the river already referred to —there is a place where
the waters are compressed into a narrow channel, and where the
river suddenly falls many feet, pitching and tumbling over the
rocks.  This passage, though not wholly free from  danger, is,
however, not unfrequently made with safety in a small boat.
But then commences the danger.  The boat, having shot down
that narrow  passage, is often seen to stop suddenly, and to lie
without motion on the bosom  of the waters.  It neither goes
forward, nor backward, nor towards either shore.  It seems for
the moment to be consciously deliberating whither it shall go.
Soon it begins to move, at first so gently that the motion is
scarcely perceptible, not forward, but in a circular direction-so
gently, however, that one who knew not the perils of the place
woulld feel no alarm.  But then commences the fearful struggle.
Every oar is plied; every nerve of the oarsmen is stretched;
every effort possible made at the bow and the stern to turn the
boat from  that fatal current.  But always in vain.  It goes
round, and round, and round, in spite of death-like exertions,
increasing in rapidity as the circle grows smaller, until, having
reached the centre, in an instant it disappears for ever.  Rlarely
is it that a fiagment of the boat is seen afterwards, or that
a body that is lost is recovered.   So there is a point in a
man's life where there seems to be, and where there may be,
calm  deliberation, and where safety is yet possible-where the
man in danger may pause and reflect, and be saved.  Though
there have been temptations, yet you would hardly say that
there was a tendency now in any direction of ruin; you would
say that the man might be safe.  But soon that point is past,
and there is a movement, slight at first, and then the current
sweeps on to ruin.  Do not suppose that they who perish by
intemperance-or by any other vice-perish without a struggle.
It is after many a struggle, when too late; it is after many a
conflict, when the power that sweeps them  in is too great to be
resisted.   Men perish by this vice, and by other vices, after
many  anxious moments; after many  resolutions formed  to
abandon the course; after many tears; after many wakeful
nights; for the enemy has laid hold on them  with a strong




STRUGGLES OF A CONVICTED SINNER.                   157
grasp-like the  sweeping whirlpool-and they cannot now
escape.
I refer to these cases to show that all mental struggles and
conflicts, all anxieties of soul, are not confined to the subject of
religion.  It is in every portion of the world, in reference to
every vice and every temptation.  There are more struggles in
respect to worldly matters —more mental conflicts-more distressing agitations of the soul, than occur on the subject of
religion; and rarely does any man perish under the control of
any vice, who has not at some period had a most fearful conflict
with his passions, and felt most deeply that he was in danger,
and cried most earnestly for help.
(3) But such a struggle does occur on the subject of religion;
and to illustrate this was the design in referring to these cases.
It occurs, as I remarked in the outset of the discourse, in the
case of all those who become the children of God, and who find
ultimate peace in the gospel.  The great question comes up for
final decision, whether the gay world, so fascinating and alluring,
shall be pursued or abandoned; whether the desire of worldly
honour and ambition shall be exchanged for a good conscience
and the hope of heaven; whether the paths of vice shall continue to be trod, or shall be forsaken for better paths; whether
the voice of reason, of conscience, and of God, shall be obeyed,
or whether all the solemn dictates of truth shall be disregarded.
This is no slight struggle.  It is often one of the most fearful
in which the soul ever engages, as it is the most important in its
issues of any in which man is ever concerned. Before the minds
of youthful females the question does come up, under the influences of the Spirit of God, not whether they shall abandon
the world in the sense of taking the veil, and immuring themselves in a nunnery-for the gospel never asks a human being
to agitate that question;-but whether the gaieties of the world
shall be exchanged for the sober pursuits of piety; the love of
outward adorning, for the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit;
a desire to be admired on earth, for a desire to appear in the
robes of salvation on the banks of the river of life; a wish to
be loved by friends here as the great end of existence, for a wish
to be loved by the Saviour of the world.  Before the minds of
young men the question does come up whether the pursuits of
gain, of pleasure, or ambition, shall be exchanged for the pursuits of religion; whether the passions which have reigned in
the heart shall be sacrificed to the principles of the gospel;
whether all that is attractive to the youthful eye and heart shall
be made subordinate to the self-denying duties of the cross, and




158             THTI   WAY OF SALVATION.
whether this world shall be made subordinate to the world to
come.  It is not a question whether this world shall be abandoned in the sense that life shall be spent in a monastery, or in
caves and solitudes-for the gospel never proposes that question
to any class of men; but it is a question whether the world shall
be abandoned as the great object of pursuit, and the soul be
devoted sincerely and wholly to God; whether all forms of vice
shall be forsaken; whether all associations contrary  to the
gospel shall be broken up; whether the understanding and the
heart shall be subjected to the teachings of the Saviour; whether
God shall be all in all.  That is a question which does come
before the mind; and that question must be decided in one way,
and one only, by all who become true Christians; it is decided
in another way by all who do not.
I have thus endeavoured to describe the struggle or conflict in
the mind of the convicted sinner. The reasons why such a
sinner is not converted, or the obstacles which hinder his conversion, are plain and apparent.  All the facts in the case can
be explained by a reference to the love of sin; to the power
which the world has on him; to the strength of some mighty
passion; to the influence of companions; to the dread of shame;
and to an unwillingness to renounce the world, with its vanity
and lusts. The sinner himself, in that state, might perhaps, in
certain moods of mind, be disposed to attribute the fact that he
is not converted to God himself; to say that he could convert
him if he would; to resolve the matter into the Divine sovereignty and decrees; and to seek peace in the reflection that he
has nothing to do, and that, as the whole matter is in the hands
of God, if he is to be saved he will be; or if not, no efforts of his
own can be of avail. It is not necessary now to consider the
points which arise out of such suppositions; for, whatever may be
the truth in regard to them, it is needless to advert to these, for
there are other causes amply sufficient, as we have seen, to
explain the fact that the sinner in that state struggles long, and
is not converted.
A very interesting inquiry, on which there is no time now to
enter, presents itself here. It is, in what way can an agitated
and struggling mind, such as I have described, find peace?
What do the laws of our mental constitution demand in order
that these agitations should be calmed down, so that there may
be permanent happiness?  And what has the gospel plan of
salvation devised and presented to men as adapted to meet these
laws of our being, and to give peace to the mind in such a state?
This inquiry will open some very interesting views about the




STRUGGLES OF A CONVICTED  SINNER.               159
laws of our mental structure, and introduce us at once to the
provisions made in the gospel to give peace to a soul troubled
and agitated by the remembrance of sin,-a soul struggling
between the conviction of duty on the one hand, and the lingering and powerful love of the world on the other.  The inquiry
cannot be entered on now. There are a few reflections which
follow  from  what I have said, which I desire to suggest in
conclusion.
(1) One is, that we may learn why it is that a sinner is ever
so long under conviction of sin before he is converted. The old
theologians, with little elegance of phrase I admit, but endeavouring to express what they regarded as a valuable thoughtthough it was, in fact, in some respects, a practical error and
illusion-speak much of what they call a " law-work on the
soul:" by which they seem to have meant a protracted period of
painful and distressing conviction of sin-a long season of gloom,
and sadness, and conflict-before the heart is converted; and they
appear to have supposed, not only that this was necessary from
the nature of the mind and of religion, but that the conversion
would have evidence of genuineness, and the religion of the soul
itself be valuable and thorough, just in proportion to the depth
of this gloom, and the severity and duration of the struggle.
But never was there a greater delusion. There is no occasion for
gloom  at all in such a case, for the offer of pardon meets a
sinner the moment he is willing to accept of it; and the only
occasion for the conflict and struggle which I have describedbe it longer or shorter-is, that the sinner will not surrender to
the convictions of duty, and yield himself to God. The struggle
arises from his pride, and selfishness, and obstinacy, and love of
the world; the gloom is only that which the mind 7must feel
when it will not submit to plain and manifest truth and duty.
There is no valce or moral worlth in any such conflict, any more.than there is in any other conflict with conscience and a sense
of duty; and this struggle no more enters into religion, or gives
a value to religion, than the obstinacy of a child enters into the
character of obedience to a parent.  There is no necessity for
such a protracted and gloomy struggle in becoming a Christian.
Yield at once, as the apostles on the banks of the sea of Galilee
did when the Saviour called them; yield as the jailer at Philippi
did when told what he must do to be saved; yield as Saul of
Tarsus did when the Saviour called him in the way to Damascus,
not " conferring with flesh and blood;" yield as a frank and openhearted child who has done wrong submits to the authority of a
father,-and this long and dreaded " law-work" on the soul, this




160              TIHE WAY OF SALVATION.
season of deep melancholy and gloom, would be unknown.
But treat the commands of the Saviour as the rich young man
did who had great possessions, and who was unwilling to
abandon them; or let your love for the world be so strong that
you cannot part with it, and beg to be permitted to return to it,
as he did who asked that he might go and bury his father before
he gave himself to the Saviour, or he who asked that he might
go first and bid them farewell at his house-and, unless your
serious convictions of sin and duty pass away altogether, such a
conflict is inevitable, and it will be continued until there is a
surrender of the soul unconditionally to Godo
(2) Another thought is this: that if the views which I have
submitted to you are correct, then undoubtedly not a few
would long since have been true Christians if they had offered
no resistance to the clear convictions of duty. M/any a time
have your consciences checked and rebuked you.  Many a
time have you had serious thoughts.  Many a time have you
felt that you ought to be Christians.  Many a time have you
felt that the world was vanity, and that sin was an " evil and
bitter thing."  And many a time have you been on the very
borders of the kingdom of God-in such a state that the Saviour
would have said of you, as he did of one in his own time, " Thou
art not far from the kingdom of heaven;" and that you would
have said, as Agrippa did, " hAlmost thou persuadest me to be a
Christian."  An influence has been setting in upon your souls,
which would long since have brought you into the kingdom of
God, if you had yielded to it, and had honestly done what you
felt to be righlt.  God addressed you; Christ appealed to you;
your conscience summoned you to forsake your sins; your
parents, your pastor, your wife, your child, your bosom-friend
tenderly admonished you; darkness, solitude, morning, evening,
midnig ht-memory, hope, fear-the obligations of gratitude, the
desire of happiness, the dread of death, and the fear of the dark
unknown world,-all, under the Divine Spirit, pressed the subject
of religion upon your attention, and summoned you to the service
of the Redeemer.  Others were thronging into the kingdom
of God,.and your conscience urged you to follow them, and as
they found peace by yielding, so might you have done also.
That you are not now a Christian is not to be traced to any such
fact as that there is no mercy for you, or that God is not willing
to save you, or that Christ did not die for you, but to the fact
that to all these things you have offered a steady resistance.
When perhaps eight years of age, you would have been a Christian, if you had yielded even to those childish convictions of duty,




STRUGGLES OF A CONVICTED  SINNER.                  161
and had prayed to the Sariour; when twelve, fifteen, or twenty,
there wvere considerations enough pressed upon your attention to
induce you to be a Christian, and you often struggled against
your convictions; at thirty, at forty, perhaps up to seventy,
there have been times when your mind has been troubled, and
when your conscience has urged the claims of religion, and
when if you had simply yielded to what you knew  and felt
to be right, you would have found the peace which the gospel
gives.
(3) Another thought is this: It is a hard and difficult thing,
in many respects, for a sinner to destroy his own soul.  A great
work has to be done before a sinner can be sent down to eternal
ruin.  The path which he treads to the world of woe is a path
of conflict, not a path of peace.  The life of a sinner is a warfare.  God means to throw obstacles in the way to his ruin.
He means to check, restrain, and rebuke him; he means to set
his duty and interest before him.; he means that the appeals of
reason and conscience, of heaven and earth, should ring loud, and
long, and constant in his ears. We speak much of the Clhristilan
conflict, and of the struggle in the Christian's soul, and we
describe not a fictitious, but a real warfare.  But there is a conflict as real and as fierce in the sinner's soul before he can be
lost. The Christian makes no war on himself, on his conscience,
on his parents, on his pastor, on his God and Saviour.  The
sinner does on all.  He fights his way down to hell.. He wages
a warfare on his reason, on his conscience, on his God, on his
Saviour, on his pastor, on his father, mother, sister, wife, on his
own convictions of what is right and of what is for his interest,
and must achieve a dreadful victory over them  all before he is
sent to hell.  God will not suffer him to be lost without such a
conflict, and when he goes down to eternal woe it is as the
result of a most miserable triumph-binding his brow not with
the laurel, but with the deadly nightshade —a triumph over
conscience, and reason, and every noble principle of his nature.
How  strange that men will engage in such a conflict, that
they will not yield at once to conscience and to God, and find
peace!
(4) Another, the last thought, is this: If a sinner is finally
lost, he has but himself to blame.  I assert that his own conduct
will account for it irrespective of anything else.  I assert that
the reason why he will perish is not that no provision was made
for his salvation; that no interest was felt for him  in heaven;
that he was never apprized of his duty or his danger; that he
was never in a state in which he could have been saved,-but that




162              TIlE WAY OF SALVATION.
he resisted the conviction of duty; that he struggled against
conscience and against God; that he trampled on the precious
blood of the atonement, and that he " resisted the Holy Ghost."
Sinner, when you perish-oh, may God avert that!-but when
you perish, if you do, nor God, nor men, nor angels, will bear
the blame.  The dreadful responsibility will rest for ever on
your own soul, and the word that may yet give you the most
deep and lingering agony in the world of woe is the word —
SELF-DESTROYED!




SERI1ON XIII
A WOUNDED SPIRIT.
PRov. xviii. 14. —" A wounded spirit who can bear?"
A WOUNDED SPIRIT:-we inquire naturally what it is; what
causes produce it; what makes it difficult to bear it; and what,
if any, are the remedies for it.  To these four points your attention will now be directed.
I. What is meant by a wounded spirit?  A few words only
will be necessary to explain this to those who have not experienced it, if there are any such; to those who have, no explanation is necessary.  We are so made that we are capable of
experiencing two kinds of pain-that of the body, and that of
the mind, the soul, the heart.  WYith the former we are more
conversant, not perhaps because there are more sufferers, but
because the symptoms are more apparent; the sufferer is more
willing that the disease should be known; the remedy is more
easily applied. These sufferings lay the foundation for the skill
of the physician, who professes to have little to do with the
mind, and who in fact refers to this much less frequently than
the perfection of his own art would require.  The pains of the
body and the soul are distinct in their origin and their nature;
they differ in their symptoms, and they differ as much in their
remedies. It is true that such is the intimate connexion between
the body and the soul-the one often travels over into the department of the other, and the sorrows of the mind prostrate
the powers of the body; or a diseased nervous system  makes a
war of desolation on the healthful operations of the soul; but
still these diseases and remedies pertain to different departments
of our nature, and are designed to be distinct expressions of the
Divine displeasure against the crime of the apostacy.
I am  concerned now, as Christian ministers mainly are, with
the latter-the disease of the mind.  I have no concern with
the former-the diseases of the body-except to suggest considerations which will teach submission when they come upon
us; to show  why they are sent upon men; and except so
far as the influence of the gospel may keep from  the vices
that engender disease, and which  lead  to pain  and  death.




164              THE  WAY  OF SALVATION.
When we speak of a wounded spirit, and especially as contrasted, as it is in our text, with " infirmity,"-~" the spirit of a
man will sustain his infirmity, but a wounded spirit who can
bear?" — e refer to the sickness of the heart; the disease of
the soul; the anguish which mind can be made to suffer; the
mental derangements, the sorrows resulting from  disappointments, and losses, and chagrin, and remorse, and the numerous
kindred woes to which the soul is subject.
Between these sufferings and those of the body, we may remark the following points of difference as more clearly illustrating their nature.  (1.) Much of the suffering of a wounded
spirit is almost unavoidably concealed.  It lies deep in the soul,
while a disease of the body may be so apparent in a prostrate
frame, in a sunken eye, in pallid features, or in the flush of
fever, that it cannot be hidden.  God has given to the soul no
such certain indications of the existence of its diseases as    he has
to the body.  The body may be healthful, and everything may
indicate the appearance of a man sound in body and in soul,
even when the mind is in anguish.  (2.) Much of the pain and
anguish of the soul is concealed of design.  We would not have
all the world know what we suffer in the soul, or all the pain
that the heart feels.  What we feel from  disappointed affection
or ambition; from  abortive plans and frustrated hopes; fiomi
chagrin, neglect, and slander; and especially what we feel froml
recollected guilt, we would not have the world -at large know,
and there is much of that which we suffer in regard to which
we do not choose to invite the sympathy of a friend. We should
have a strong reluctance, it may be, to let our most intimate
friends know how much we suffer by being slandered, and what
is the actual pain we experience when a rival has been more
successful than we have.  We feel that our own self-respect is
involved in not appearing even to our friends to suffer, and in
bearing up under such trials as though they produced no effect
on us.  It is not so with the pain of the body. We feel that
there is no disgrace in the headache, in the pain of pleurisy, or
in the hectic on the cheek, or in a raging fever; but that such
sufferings rather have a claim to sympathy, and we are willing
that they should be known.  (3.) A  third remark is, that the
sufferings of the soul often force themselves upon the body, and
prostrate its powers, and reveal themselves when we have sought
to conceal them.  The eye not sufficiently disciplined in guilt
will betray him who has done wrong.  Or the bloom of beauty
leaves the cheek, and the youth pines away apparently without
disease, and dies as the result of a wounded spirit.  Or the




A WOUNDED  SPIRIT.                        165
anguish of disappointment, and chagrin, and guilt, become too
g'reat to bear; and the sanguinary deed of a moment shows that
the fires had long raged within, and that the wounded spirit
could no longer be endured, and the sufferer rushes to evil that
he " knows not of."
These remarks are, I trust, all that is needful to explain what
is meant by a wounded spirit, in order to prepare the way for
what I have yet to say.  The amount of what I have said is,
that the sorrows of a wounded spirit are such as result from
disappointment, ingratitude, losses, slander, chagrin, and remorse;
from things which go to make the mind sad and prostrate, or to
overwhelm it with the recollections of guilt.
II. I proceed, in the second place, to state more particularly the
causes of this-the things which operate to produce a wounded spirit.
Probably the idea of wrong done to us, or of our having done wrong
to others, is always connected with the sorrow of a wounded spirit;
or the essential cause of it is wrong that has been in some way perpetrated, and that is leaving its bitter results on the soul. But this
idea operates most subtilly, and we often allow ourselves to be influenced as if wrong had been done when none such existed, or
was intended.  A rival outsteps us, and we feel as if he had
done us wrong; or as if the community had, by bestowing
honours on him which we sought for ourselves.   AVe are disappointed in business; we fail in our plans and expectations; our
fields are blasted, or our vessel sinks in the deep, and we allow
ourselves almost to feel as if the floods and streams and waves
had conspired against us to do us wvrong, and with a wounded
spirit we sink into sadness and complaining.  With this general
explanatory remark we may observe, that the causes of a wounded
spirit are such as the following:(1.) Long cherished, but ungratified desire; or deep, but disappointed affection.  We seek honour, but it is withheld; we
desire the reciprocal affections of friendship or love, but they
are not bestowed; we fix our hopes of happiness on the attaininent of some, to us, endeared object, and we cannot grasp it;
there is some one whose friendship we deem  to be essential
to our welfare, but it is a prize which we cannot make our
own.  The smile that we sought gladdens the hearts of others,
but not ours; the presence of the object diffuses happiness on
all else except on our desolate souls.  To all others there are
warm  beams of sunshine in the presence of the object; to us
there is the coldness and darkness of an eclipse.  Unrequited
and unreciprocated affection makes the heart sad.  " Concealment, like a worm  in the bud, feeds on the damask cheek."




166               THIE WAY  OF SALVATION
The heart "pines in grief," and the wounded spirit sinks in
melancholy.   There is a secret feeling that a wrong has been
done; that such ardour of love should have met with a response,
and that there was a claim to reciprocal affection.
(2.) Disappointment in business, or in the pursuits of ambition.  We enter on the career of life with many others.  We
start together from  the goal.  They have no advantage in the
time of starting, or in the smoothness of the way, or in the
cheering plaudits of those who are lookers on at the race, or in
the favour of those who are to distribute the prizes. But soon we
begin to lag in the rear, and their success stimulates them to new
efforts, and our want of success depresses us. A rival outstrips us.
lie has better health or better talents, or finds better friends; or
facilities of success are open to him which are denied to us; or
the world seems partial to him, and we begin to feel that it is
disposed to do us injustice.  We even feel almost that he has
done us some injustice, and we begin to envy him  and to wish
him out of the way, as disappointed and sad, we suffer under
the tortures of a wounded spirit.  Disappointment thus meets
many an aspirant after fame, wealth, and pleasure.  It occurs in
all professions and callings of life, and in every attempt to -find
pleasure in objects that are not designed by the Great Author of
all things to produce it.  No one can gather up and record the
disappointments that have been met in the career of ambition,
or in the social or in the festive circle.  No one can record the
secret sighs that have been heaved when pleasure has been
sougiht in vain; or write down the account of the tears that
envy, and chagrin, and mortification have caused the sons and
daughters of gaiety to shed when they have gone fiom  their
places of amusement to sad and sleepless pillows.  So we seek
more intimacy with a friend than we have a right to look for
or expect; we calculate on attentions to which we have a very
slender claim; we attempt to make our wTay into society where
-our presence is not particularly sought, and are not successful,
and the spirit is wounded.  There are the mingled feelings of
mortified pride, and chagrin, and disappointed ambition; the
feelings resulting from  neglect, and from the rebuke which the
coldness of others has given us,-and we feel that wrong has
been done us, and the soul pines in sadness.
(3.) The spirit is wounded by attempts to injure our name.
Our richest inheritance is a good name. To a man in private life
it is his comforter and joy; to a man in professional or public life
it is his capital, his all. To each one of us it is the best inheritance which we expect to leave to our children-an inheritance




A WOUNDElD SPlIR IT.                  167'which we believe will be to them of more value than if we could
leave them the gold of Ophir; nay, we feel that it would be a
worthless inheritance could we bequeath to them  the wealth
of Croesus, if it descended with a name covered with infamy.
There is no one of us but would wish to have some kind word
cut on the humblest stone that may mark the place where we
sleep, or that would not wish the stranger to hear that our
character was upright, if perchance lie should walk where we
slumber in the dust.
Now there is nothing that pierces so deep into the soul as
slander, " whose breath outvenoms all the worms of Nile."  The
robber may take my purse, but he has taken only " trash, which
was mine, is his, and has been the slave of thousands. But he
who takes away my good name, robs me of that which not
enriches him, but makes me poor indeed." VWhen a man charges
me with a base and dishonourable action; when he accuses me
of dishonesty or falsehood; when he perseveres in the accusation even in the face of a life of undisputed integrity; when he
expresses no doubt about its truth, and he has the power of
making many others believe that what he says is true; and
when-as may happen-I may lack just the kind and degree of
evidence which I need to make all clear, I need not say that
then a deeper wound will be made in the spirit than would be
made by the loss of property, or the death of a friend. If to all
this there should now be added the circumstance that he formerly
enjoyed my friendship; that he ate at my table, slept under my
roof, was in my family, heard me speak in the openness of unreserved confidence, and was permitted to look into my very soul,
he does me a deeper wrong. He adds not only to cruelty the
sin ot ingratitude-a sin that pierces deeper than any other; but
he adds the power of doing me a deeper injury-for he speaks
as one who may be supposed to know.  Such were the wounds
of the soul which David, and after him He who was " the root
and offspring of David," experienced.  "Mine own familiar
friend in whom I trusted, which did eat of my bread, hath lifted
up his heel against me," Psa. xli. 9.  "It was not an enemy
that reproached me; then I could have borne it: neither was it
he that hated me that did magnify himself against me; then I
would have hid myself from him: but it was thou, a man mine
equal, my guide, and mine acquaintance. We took sweet counsel
together, and walked unto the house of God in company," Psa.
lv. 12-14.
(4.) The spirit is wounded by the recollection of guilt-of the
wrong which we have done in days that are past. Probably
12




168              THE WAY OF SALVATION.
this is the main, as it is the most important idea in the text.
God has endowed us with a conscience; and it is a part of his
arrangement that man shall be self-punished, and shall bear
about with him  the means of self-correction and rebuke.  The
severest of all the punishments, therefore, which visit the sinner,
are those which spring up from the soul itself, and the torture
which man is constrained to inflict on his own heart. It consists
of, sin brought to recollection, though long since forgotten; of
the pangs of remorse; of the remembrance of injuries which we
have done, over which years have rolled away, and on which
many, many a sun has risen and set. I will not say that there
is anything like caprice in the manner in which these sins are
brought to the recollection; I will not say that it is by no
regular law that it is done-for all the operations of the Spirit
of God on man are in accordance with settled law; but there is
much in the manner in which it is done that strongly resembles
power exerted without rule, or acting by laws which we cannot
trace. Now you remember some word spoken, or deed done,
that injured one long since dead, and of which a voice from the
tomb almost seems to remind you.  Now sins that seemed to
have faded from the memory, or whose lines were so obliterated
that you could hardly trace them, revive, and all the faded colours
are restored, and they stand out to view as if written in letters
of " living light."  Now one single sin seems to stand before the
mind black as night.  You see it everywhere. It meets you in
every pathway, and in every place of solitude. You go to your
counting-room, and it is there; you awake at night, and it is
before you. The ghost of a murdered man is not apparently
more omnipresent; nor the stain of blood on the hand more
visible to a guilty eye, and you wonder what has given* that
prominence to that single sin just now. And now sins come in
groups and clusters, and all the evils and errors and follies of
your whole life stand out to view, and face you every step you
take.  Your spirit is wounded,-you have the feelings of a
guilty man. It is not so much that you are in danger,-it is
that you have done wrong-that your life has been a life of
guilt. There is no effort then to cloak or conceal the offences of
the past life. They are seen and confessed to be wrong. There
is no attempt to ward off the appeals of truth,-to palliate the
neglect of prayer or religion,-to excuse unbelief or impenitence,-or to substitute the claims of external morality for what
God requires. In the most absolute and unqualified sense the
soul confesses its guilt, and feels that dust and ashes become one
whose whole life has been wrong. This is that state of mind




A WOUNDED  SPIRIT.                       169
which is characterized in the Bible as " a broken and a contrite
heart," or as a " bruised reed"-the state of mind which David
experienced when there was brought to his remembrance his
great acts of guilt, when he said, " A broken and a contrite
heart, O  God, thou wilt not despise," Psa. li. 17.  It is this
sadness which is felt at the remembrance of guilt that the gospel
is designed to heal, and this wound of the soul to a greater or
less degree always precedes true conversion to God.
(5.) There is a wound of the spirit which only the children
of God feel; or such as is found among those who give to others,
if not to themselves, every evidence that they are sincere Christians, and are heirs of eternal life.  It may assume with them
the form  of recollected guilt; or the form which exists when
they see no evidence that their sins are pardoned; or the form
of the hiding of the Divine countenance; or the form  arising
from the feeling that they are forsaken both by God and mana form which exists when everything seems to be against us,
and disappointment sits gloomily, like an ill-omened bird, on all
that we undertake. This is often charged on religion itself when
it should not be, for such cases often arise from the want of
religion, and because the soul fears that it has no religion; and
in the seasons of deepest sadness which such persons feel, as in
the case of David Brainerd and Payson, religion, "instead of
being the cause of gloom, is the only refuge from its overwhelming effects."  This is often made an objection to religion by
scoffers and revilers, and the sorrows of the soul in religion are
made the subject of'unseemly merriment; but with a heart of
true sensibility, no matter what the source of sorrow, it will not
be so-for,
With a soul that ever felt the sting
Of sorrow, sorrow is a sacred thing."
"There are minds so delicately strung that they cannot escape
the most distressing attacks of melancholy.  Friendship, philosophy, and even religion, as it exists in imperfect man, cannot
oppose a complete barrier to its influence."  With those who
feel it most, as in the case of Cowper, there are united often
some of the most delicate and lovely traits of character; a warmhearted philanthropy; a humanity that would not needlessly
"set foot upon a worm;" a general cheerfulness of manners; an
exquisite huniour; a disposition to find pleasure anywhere and
everywhere,-in a flower, with a pet rabbit, with children, in
the quiet walks of nature, and above all, in sweet communion
with God.  But you cannot argue against nerves; you cannot




170                THE WAY OF SALVATION.
heal the maladies of the body by moral influences; you cannot
guard the sufferer who has such a temperament from the sorrows
which may thus find their way to the soul.  " The best of men
have occasionally groaned under this pressure.  It made Job'weary of his life;' and that pensive, tender-hearted prophet
who seems to have been made to weep says,' When I would
comfort myself against sorrow, my heart is faint within me.'"
It is not fancy; it is not imagination; it is not that such persons
are worse than others; it is not that they have no true pietyno amiable traits-no cheerful hours: it is to be traced often,
perhaps always, to something else than moral causes, and the
blame of it should not be thrown upon religion, nor should they
who are thus afflicted suppose that they have no true piety.
"'Tis not as heads that never ache suppose,
Forgery of fancy, and a dream of woes;
Man is a harp whose chords elude the sight,
Each yielding harmony, disposed aright;
The screws reversed (a task which, if he please,
God in a moment executes with ease),
Ten thousand thousand things at once go loose,
Lost, till IHe turn them, all their power and use.
No wounds like those a wounded spirit feels,
No cure for such, till God, who makes them, heals."
If there is a soul that should-meet with sympathy on earth, it
is such a soul; if there is one that does meet with sympathy
in heaven in its sufferings, it may be presumed to be such an
one.  Yet there is often sorrow  without sympathy; anguish of
spirit which no one understands but he who feels it; a depth of
distress for which no balm is found in human things; and an
exquisiteness of mental woe which,-while it is looked upon with
indifference by men, or excites their smile, or provokes their
reproaches, as if the subject of this sorrow were cast off by God,
or as if religion were to bear all the blame for what human
nature ever suffers,-can be met only by the Great Healer of the
spirit-by that Redeemer who  sympathizes with all forms of
grief. How little sympathy is often felt for it; how true to the
life is the manner in which it is met, is described by one who
experienced it as keenly as man ever did:" This, of all maladies that man infest,
Claims most compassion, and receives the least;
Job felt it when he groan'd beneath the rod,
And the barb'd arrows of a frowning God;
And such emollients as his friends could spareFriends such as his for modern Jobs prepare.




A WOUNDED  SPIRIT.                       171
Blest-rather curst-with hearts that never feel,
Kept snug in caskets of close-hammer'd steel;
With limbs of British oak and nerves of wire,
And wit that puppet prompters might inspire,
Their sovereign nostrum is a clumsy joke,
On pangs enforced with God's severest stroke."-CowPER.
That all these sorrows of the spirit are to be traced, in one
way or other, to sin, there can be no reason to doubt; for how
can we conceive of suffering that is not somehow connected with
this? But let not a man write " bitter things against himself"
on account of these sorrows of the spirit; let him not say in his
heart that " God has cast off for ever; that he has forgotten to
be gracious; that he has in anger shut up his tender mercies;
that he will be favourable no more."  Let him  not say that
there is no " balm in Gilead, and no physician there."  Let him
not say that no good can ever come out of this to his own soul.
What a bright day rises after the darkness of midnight; what
a beauty there is in nature after a tempest; what a charming
bow of the covenant there is bent on the departing cloud; what
exquisite happiness there is after pain; what a sense of the
value of redemption after the night of gloom passes away; what
qualifications for usefulness are given to those who pass through
fiery trials; what a bright home is that heaven where there
shall be no tears; and what comfort can that God impart of
whom  it is said by Elihn  in the book of Job, with so much
beauty, " He giveth songs in the night!" Job xxxv. 10.
III. The third general remark to which I proposed to direct
your attention was, that it is difficult to bear the cfflictions of a
wouncded spirit.  The text is, " The spirit of a man will sustain
his infirmity: but a wounded spirit who can bear?" The meaning of this is, that when the body is pained, the mind, if sound
and pure and healthful, will enable us to sustain the sorrows of
bodily sufferings as a faithful ally.  It can uphold the sinking
frame. It is a helper that may be relied on then.  But if the
mzind itself be wounded, all support is gone.  What will sustain
that?  The body cannot be depended on to come to the rescue,
and the man sinks in despair. This.is the point which is now
to be illustrated.
Of one fact here adverted to, that, if the mind be sound and
the heart whole, bodily pains can be borne, the world has furnished abundant illustrations.  We know that disease and pain
can be endured without murmuring; and the history of the
church has furnished not a few beautiful illustrations of the fact
that the pains of the rack, the horrors of impalement, and the




172               THE WAY OF SALVATION.
agony of flame at the stake, can be all endured with a calm and
tranquil spirit. A good conscience; a belief that we are right;
a conviction of duty; unwavering confidence in God the Saviour,
and the aid of his Holy Spirit, enable the suffering martyr to
endure all that the malice of men can inflict on the human frame.
But when the mind is diseased-when the spirit is wounded,
the case is changed. Then the prop is taken away, and the
anguish of such a spirit who can bear P  In illustrating this, I
may observe, (1.) That this anguish of spirit often occurs when
the body is feeble and prostrate. A disordered nervous temperament; or a tendency to depression and sadness; or a succession
of external calamities, may prepare the way for the inexpressible
tortures which the mind may be made to endure. zTen a mental
sorrow; an unkind remark of one who ought to be a fiiend; an
unguarded and almost unmeaning word used by him who is
really your friend; an instance of neglect or the want of due
attention; the detraction of a slanderer; or ingratitude in a
child or in one who should be your friend, comes with a force
which would scarcely be felt if the body were sound, and the
nervous system  braced to bear the rebuffs of life.  (2.) It is
intolerable, because suffering from this quarter strikes at all a
man's comforts and hopes. A man has a reputation.  It has
been to him the fruit of many a hard year's toil.  It is worth
more to him than all the wealth of Ophir; and there is not a
monarch so rich that the brightest gem  in his diadem  could
purchase it, or make him willing to part with it. It is all his
capital, his hope, his stay, and the only inheritance that he is
likely to leave to his family.  The cold, unfeeling slanderer;
the false fiiend; the rival; the man that you have befriended,
and that you would befriend again, strikes the envenomed fang
into that character, calumniates your name, prostrates your
reputation as far as he can; and who can bear it?  Far from
mc and my friends be a spirit that would not feel on such an
occasion-a heart which would not bleed.  (3.) Again, a spirit
wounded by the remembrance of guilt, who can bear it?'Many
an illustration has the world furnished of this, and will still
furnish.  The remembrance of wrong done, of duty neglected,
of privileges abused, of mercies disregarded; the remembrance
of the days when the imagination gave loose to the reins
of impure conceptions, or the tongue to words of blasphemy;
the remembrance of the times when the mercy of God was
disregarded, and the appeals of eternal love slighted, comes
with withering power over the soul, and rests like a horrid
incubus upon the crushed and tortured spirit; and who can




A WOVUNDED  SPIRIT.                     143
bear it? All the wrong that the soul ever did; all the forgotten
deeds of night; all the long-concealed transgressions of other
days; all the visions of an impure and licentious imagination
that had seemed to have flown away for ever, seem now to come
back and arrange themselves before the eye of the soul,-a dark
and horrid brood, and the eye can neither close itself on them,
nor can it turn away. This is conviction of sin,-the anguish
which the wounded spirit feels at the remembrance of past deeds
of guilt.  (4.) This agony of spirit has one of two issues.  In
one case it leads to the true source of relief,-the balm of
Gilead-the blood of the Redeemer,-and the soul is made
whole. The state of anguish becomes so intolerable that the soul
can bear it no longer, and it gladly flees to pardoning blood.
In the other case it leads to despair and to death. The anguish
of remembered guilt becomes insupportable, and the wounded
spirit, ignorant of a way by which peace can be found, or
unwilling to accept of the peace which the gospel furnishes,
seeks to fly from life as if to escape from  the guilt that haunts
it by day and by night.  Under this heavy pressure the man
closes his own life, and the wounded spirit rushes uncalled into
the presence of God.
IV. It remains only, in the fourth place, to inquire whether
for the wounded 2spirit there is no relief-whether a merciful
God has appointed nothing which shall serve to relieve the
anguish.  Medicine is provided by his hands for the pains of the
body; is there no medicine thus provided for the deeper sorrows
of the soul?  Long since this question was asked with deep
solicitude by suffering man. Cicero, in the Tusculan Questions, *
inquires with earnestness "why it is that since so much care
has been shown to heal the body, a like care has not been
evinced to discover some remedy for the soul —for the diseased,
the enfeebled, the troubled mind?"  He attempts to answer the
inquiry.  " Philosophy," says he, "is the medicine for the soul."
This is, indeed, the best answer that the world, unaided by
revelation, could furnish, but we know that it does not meet the
case. Philosophy may teach me to blunt my sensibilities, but
that is not to impart consolation, or to heal the " wounds which
sin has made" in the soul. I want some security that the
wound is healed; I want something  that shall make the
wounded part live, not that which shall consign it to the torpor
of death.
What, then, are the remedies for a wounded spirit?  How
shall we be taught to bear it?  With reference to the somewhat. Lib. iU. ~ 1




1L74'THE WAY OF SALVATION.
mixed causes of a wounded spirit, to which I have referred, I
shall suggest in conclusion, and by way of a practical application,
a few of those remedies, or a few considerations to those who
thus suffer.
(1.) I have spoken of the wounds which the spirit feels from
the envenomed tongue of slander, the efforts of others to injure
our character and blast our reputation. To meet this, I need
only suggest the following considerations:-~(a) God will ultimately take care of a man's character, and give him the reputation which he oughzt to have, if he aims to do right, and to keep
a good conscience. (b) It is possible for a man to have such a
character that the calumniator cannot well injure it. A man
who has been known for a dozen or twenty years in a community as a man of truth, and honesty, and industry, and
straightforward dealing, and piety, is not likely to be permanently injured by the voice of detraction.  The world does
not judge thus hastily of the character of a man; and the
community regards his character as too valuable to be sacrificed
by the voice of a slanderer. I can tell you what man is likely
to be injured by a slanderer, or what character is likely permanently to suffer by evil reports. It is the man whose life is
one of crooked policy; who is timeserving and changeable; who
is inconsistent in his walk; who makes a profession of religion,
but who gives slender evidence of sincerity and piety; who is
never seen in connexion with religion but at the communion
table; who indulges in double-meaning and inuendoes in his
conversation; who stands aloof from the cause of temperance,
and speaks of the over-heated zeal of the friends of that cause;
who can partake of a social glass with the world with as much
joyousness and hilarity as those who make no pretensions to
serious piety; and who is unsettled, unsteady, and vacillating in
his plans. Such a man is just the one for the slanderer.  The
community is half prepared to believe the first suggestion of a
departure from honesty and purity of life; and there is no way
by which such a man can live down the calumny. But there
are men against whose character you would not believe a word
if an angel from  heaven should proclaim  it, and become the
accuser. Have such a character, and your spirit need not be
wounded by the voice of the slanderer.
(2.) I have spoken of those whose spirit is wounded by neglect
and disappointment; by receiving a smaller measure of public
favour and regard than they supposed themselves entitled to; by
not being elevated to offices which they wished; by not receiving
praises and commendations and appointments which they desired;




A WOUNDED SPIRIT.                      175
and by  seeing laurels which they wished to entwine around
their own brows encircle the heads of others. I admit that
there is sometimes real cause of pain here, and that the world is
sometimes slow to bestow the due measure of reward on those
who deserve its smiles. But the remedy for a wounded spirit
here is easy and simple. It is to be found in the consciousness
of doing right; in an effort to please God. I may add further,
it is to be found in a subdued frame of mind, and in moderated
desires. He that will be willing to occupy the place for which
he was designed by his Creator, content with the small measure
of notice which is due to an individual, and willing that all
others should occupy the place which God designed, will not
usually find the world inclined to do him injustice. Water finds
its proper level, and so does man. To be willing to occupy the
place which God in his providence assigns us, however humble
or low that place may be, is one of the ways to heal a spirit
wounded by mortified pride.
(3.) I have spoken of the wounds which sin has made in the
soul; of remembered guilt; of a troubled conscience. Compared
with this, all other wounds are trifles; and for this, and for all
other sorrows of the soul, arising from  disappointment, and
chagrin, and envy, and slander, the gospel has provided a
remedy.  I need not here state as a matter of informatiorn
what this remedy is; it is alluded to only to persuade the
wounded in spirit to apply to it. It is the mercy of God in the
Redeemer; the healing balm of the gospel of peace; the forgiveness of sins, and the health and life that flow in upon the soul,
so beautifully expressed in the language of Jeremiah: "Is there
no balm in Gilead? Is there no physician there? Why then is
not the health of the daughter of my people recovered?" Jer.
viii. 22. It is this of which the Saviour spake when he said,
"The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me; because the Lord
hath anointed me to preach good tidings unto the meek; he
hath sent me to bind up the broken hearted, to proclaim liberty
to the captives, and the opening of the prison to them that are
bound; to proclaim  the acceptable year of the Lord, and the
day of vengeance of our God; to comfort all that mourn; to
appoint unto them that mourn in Zion, to give unto them beauty
for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for
the spirit of heaviness," Isa. lxi. 1-3. It is this that is referred
to when it is said of him, " A bruised reed shall he not break,
and the smoking flax shall he not quench," Isa. xlii. 3. It is this
of which David sang when he said, " Bless the Lord, 0 my soul;
and all that is within me, bless his holy name: —who forgiveth




176               THE  WAY  OF SALVATION.
all thine iniquities; who healeth all thy diseases," Psa. ciii. 1, 3.
" He healeth the broken in heart; he bindeth up their wounds,"
Psa. cxlvii. 3.  To many, perhaps very many of my readers, I
need not say one word to describe the way by which healing
is thus imparted to a wounded spirit. They who are Christians
will recognise what they themselves have experienced in the
language of one who keenly felt the wounds which sin has made
in the soul:"I was a stricken deer, that left the herd
Long since. With many an arrow deep infix'd
My panting side was charged, when I withdrew
To seek a tranquil death in distant shades;
There was I found by One who had himself
Been hurt by the archers. In his side he bore,
And in his hands and feet, the cruel scars.
With gentle force soliciting the darts,
He drew them forth, and heal'd, and bade me live."
COWPEr, Task, b. iii.
Wounded spirit! that same soft and gentle hand can remove
every poisoned arrow with which sin has smitten thy soul, and
that great Healer of mankind can make you also live.  Nor
have I any other remedy to mention, —nor do I believe you
would elsewhere find it.  There are wounds in the soul made by
sin, by conscious guilt, by remembered ingratitude and evil
affections, which nothing earthly can heal, and which can be
remedied effectually and for ever only by the healing balm  of
the gospel of Christ.
" Deep are the wounds which sin has made;
Where shall the sinner find a cure?
In vain, alas, is nature's aidThe work exceeds all nature's power.
And can no sovereign balm be found?
And is no kind physician nigh,
To ease the pain and heal the wound
Ere life and hope for ever fly?
There is a great Physician near,Look up, 0 fainting soul, and live;
See in his heavenly smiles appear
Such ease as nature cannot give.
See in the Saviour's dying blood,
Life, health, and bliss, abundant flow;'Tis only this dear sacred blood
Can ease thy pain, and heal thy woe."-STEELE.




SERMON XIV.
WHAT WILL GIVE PERMANENT PEACE TO A SOUL CONVICTED
OF SIN.
JER. vi. 14.-" They have healed also the hurt of the daughter of my
people slightly, saying, Peace, peace; when there is no peace."
LUKE vii. 48-50. —" And he said unto her, Thy sins are forgiven. And
they that sat at meat with him began to say within themselves, Who is this
that forgiveth sins also? And he said to the woman, Thy faith hath saved
thee; go in peace."
VWHAT will restore peace to a guilty conscience?  This is a
great and grave question in philosophy and in religion. It is a
question which there is abundant occasion to ask in our world;
a question of interest to every man-for every mal is a sinner.
The answer to this question will introduce us to the provisions
made in the gospel, and to the harmony of those provisions with
the laws of our mental operations.
The immediate question before us now  is, What will give
permanent peace to a soul convicted of sin?  That is, What is
demanded by the laws of mind in order that a soul disturbed
and agitated with the remembrance of guilt, and apprehensive
of punishment, should find peace?  This might be prosecuted
as a mere inquiry of mental philosophy.  It is my business,
however, while I shall be compelled to regard it, in  some
measure, in this light, to prosecute it mainly with reference to
the provisions made in the gospel to meet the case.
The natural division of the subject is this:-I. On what do
men naturally rely, in that state of mind to obtain peace? And,
11. What is necessary in any true system of religion to furnish
permanent peace?  The consideration of the first will make it
necessary to show the inefficacy of the methods resorted to by
men without the gospel.  The consideration of the second will
prepare us to show that the gospel has revealed a plan which
accords with the laws of our nature, and which is effectual.
The first of these points is suggested by the text from Jeremiah:
" They have healed the hurt of the daughter of my people
slightly, saying, Peace, peace; when there is no peace."  The
second by the text in Luke-the case of the penitent female




178             THE WAY OF SALVATION.
who came to the Saviour, and washed his feet with her tears,
and to whom he said, " Thy sins are forgiven; thy faith hath
saved thee: go in peace."
The case which we are to consider is that of a convicted
sinner; and the first inquiry relates to the methods which are
commonly employed to obtain peace, and the inefficacy of those
methods. In prosecuting this inquiry, we may lay out of view
the two following things, as matters which cannot be affected
by any plan: —
(1.) The fact that the sin has been committed cannot be
changed. That is to remain historically true for ever. The
murder has been done; the property has been stolen; the act
of seduction has been perpetrated; the words of blasphemy have
gone out of the mouth; the feeling of pride, envy, malice, hatred,
lust, ambition, has been in the heart. Nothing now can change
the fact, whatever may be done in regard to it, or however it
may be disposed of. There it is in history, and there it will be
for ever. No plan of salvation, human or Divine, can change
that; not even God can make it otherwise than it is.
(2.) The sin cannot be so forgotten as to make that a ground
of peace. It may indeed have never been known to many; and
it may pass away from the recollection of many who do know
it. But by Him who is most interested in it-the " Lord of
the conscience"- it is not, and cannot be forgotten; and we
can never find permanent peace in any plan which proceeds on
the presumption that he will not remember it, or that it is not
recorded in his book. And as little can we find permanent
peace in any plan which presumes that we ourselves shall forget
it. We cannot flatter ourselves with any such hope or assurance,
for it remains yet to be proved that any sin that man has ever
committed is permanently effaced from his own memory, or that
he may not be in circumstances in which it may be recalled
with all its original power.
Laying' these, therefore, out of view, the inquiry returns as to
the methods to which men sometimes resort to give peace to the
mind when troubled with the recollection of guilt.
Those methods may be reduced to the following classes:(1.) To regard the mind, when in such a state, as morbid or
diseased, and to apply remedies rather of a physical nature to
heal it, than of a moral nature to make it pyre. The mind is
contemplated rather in its relation to the nervous system than
to the moral law, and the thing to be done is to restore health
to the physical frame, and through that by sympathy to the
soul, rather than to adopt any measures to give peace to a




WHAT WILL GIVE PERMANENT PEACE.                  179
troubled conscience or to a guilty mind as such. The account
given of one in that state by himself would be, that he is lowspirited, dejected, and sad, rather than that he is guilty; and
the aim would be the restoration to health of the bodily functions rather than the treatment of a guilty conscience.
(2.) To divert the mind to other than gloomy thoughts:the thoughts of sin, of death, and of the judgment. The pleasant
scenes of nature, poetry, romance, travel, social enjoyments,
gaiety-any or all of these would occur as adapted to calm the
troubled soul, and to turn the thoughts to objects of more
pleasant contemplation.
(3.) To conceal the convictions, with the hope that time, which
"does wonders," will restore the mind to peace.  It is hoped
that these troublesome thoughts will gradually die away; perhaps
that by assuming a cheerful external manner there will be a
reflex influence on the soul itself, and that it may be restored
to peace-that thus by the cheerfulness of the countenance the
heart may be made less sad.
(4.) To suppress these convictions by a direct mental effort;
to assume the attitude of self-government, and to resolve to be
one's own master. A direct warfare is thus made on the sources
of trouble, and the mind summons to itself all the power of an
"iron will," and resolves not to be serious-not to yield-not to
be converted.
(5.) To these methods a fifth may be added-which is, that of
embracing some views of religion which affirm that the soul need
not be alarmed; which teach that sin is not so great an evil
as it is represented to be; and which suppose that there is no
ground for apprehension in regard to the world to come: that
God is so merciful that he will not punish hereafter, or rather,
as the doctrine is embraced in the view of the mind, that lie is
so just that he will not send one of his creatures to a world of
woe, and that, therefore, there need be no alarm.
I proceed now to consider these things with reference to the
inquiry whether they can give permanent peace to a soul agitated
with the conviction of guilt.  I do not deny that they may give
temporary peace, and that often under their influence the agitations of the soul subside, and that the mind becomes again for a
time calm, joyous, gay. But that is not the question which I
wish to consider; that is not a question which it is of much
importance to consider. The true inquiry is, What is the proper
and effectual way of meeting the convictions of guilt in the
mind; what is the way to produce permanent peace P Are these
the true methods P




180               THE WAY OF SALVATION.
Now, in reply to this question, I have the following remarks
to make:(1.) This is not the high and honourable method which a man
should take in regard to his own sins.  If a man is to be saved,
he should be saved in a manner consistent with a due self-respect,
and so that he can feel that he has met the great questions
which have come before him  in an open, frank, manly, and
dignified manner. But it does not accord with this to attempt
to conceal his true character; to regard the conviction of guilt
as the fruit of ilbecility, or of a morbid state of mind: to
attempt to divert the mind to other subjects as if this were not
worthy of his attention; to assume an aspect of gaiety in order
to conceal what is within; or to embrace an opinion merely to
evade the necessity of a frank acknowledgment of what is true.
Sin should always be dealt with as a serious matter, and a man
-one who is worthy the name of a man-should alvays be
willing to look candidly at his own real character and condition.
Crime is not to be treated as a disease-for it is not a disease;
conviction of guilt is not to be regarded as a nervous excitement,
or as morbid melancholy-for it is neither.  When a man is
made to feel that he is a sinner before God, the fact is wortAhy
of his profound attention, for it may have higher bearings than
he can yet understand.  There is nothing that is Lmore likely to
be followed with important results than a conviction of guilt,
and no question can be more important for hime to settle than
this:-how can a man in that state find permanent and solid
peace?
(2.) My next remark is, that none of these methods furnish
any security of permanent peace.  I say "rpermanent peace," for'hat is what we are inquiring after; that is what any true
system  of religion must furnish.  And by permanent peace I
mean such a disposal of guilt that it shall not rise up hereafter
to trouble or annoy us; that we shall be free from  all the
penalties which it incurs; and that the mind can contemplate
that very act of guilt without the harrowing feeling of remorse,
and without the apprehension of the wrath of God.  Now I say
that none of these methods give such peace to a troubled conscience.  The reasons for this affirmation I can present in such
a manner as to be applicable to each and all of them.
(a) One is, that this very method of meeting the case may be
itself a source of great misery to the mind.  Nature, as we shall
see, demands that when a wrong is done it should be confessed
-that the burden should be thrown off by acknowle dgmlenltand that relief should be sought by repairing the wrong done,




WHAT WILL GIVE PERMANENT PEACE.                  181
or by seeking forgiveness from the offended party.  To conceal
guilt in the mind; to attempt to evade these laws of our nature;
to refuse to make these acknowledgments, is often a source of
the keenest torture, and the burden by that very means often
becomes intolerable,   Who knows not how the concealed consciousness of guilt may prey upon the soul-a gangrene ever
eating-destroying the health and spirits-taking away the
fire from the eye, and the colour from the cheek, and filling the
whole, soul with sadness?  And who knows not that, however
successful such an attempt may sometimes be, the pressure may
become so great as to make life a burden, and compel the guilty
man to go and make confession, whatever may be the result,
whether pardon or death?  We have a striking illustration of
this thought in the experience of the author of one of the Psalms.
It relates to an attempt which he made to suppress his convictions of sin, and to the result of a long refusal to make acknowledgment.  " When I kept silence," says he, " my bones waxed
old through my roaring all the day long. For day and night
thy hand was heavy upon me, my moisture is turned into the
drought of summer.  I said"-that is, then I said-" I will
confess my transgressions unto the Lord; and thou forgavest
the iniquity of my sin. Thou art my hiding-place; thou shalt
compass me about with songs of deliverance," Psa, xxxii. 3-7.
If a man wishes to make himself miserable he has only to make
war on his own conscience, and to repress his convictions of
guilt by a violation of the laws of his own nature.
(b) Anotler reason why this course will not secure permanent
peace is, that the things which trouble the mind when under
conviction for sin are of a permanent character, and the distress
may be revived at any moment. By the methods referred to
you may allay the distress for a time, and may give to the mind
temporary peace, but there is no security that all this anguish
may not in an instant revisit the soul.  Conviction of sin grows
out of the.laws of our nature when we have done wrong, and
all which contributes to produce that conviction is of a permanent
character. The law of God which condemns the sin is permanent,
and always sustains the same relation to sin.  Conscience is a
permanent part of our moral nature, and though for a time it
may be silenced, yet it is never to die out, and its rebukes may
be as scathing and blasting at any future period as they are
now.  The Spirit of God is always the same, and at any period
of your future being may call up the recollection of crime as
well as now.  Memory in all the future is to do its work as well
as now, and it may as faithfully recall your sins at any period




182              THE WAY OF SALVATION.
hereafter as it does now.  You are at some time, and at no
distant period, to die; and when death approaches, the grave
may appear as gloomy, and the judgment-bar as formidable, as
they do now. The fires of hell are not extinguished because
men choose not now to think of that dreadful world, and in a
moment on a bed of death all the horizon may be lighted up
with lurid flames flashing from the lake of fire.  To turn away
from these truths; or to refuse to think of them; or to render
the conscience callous to the appeals of truth, changes none of
these things, and can give no permanent peace to the soul.
Sooner or later all the questions which grow out of sin, and its
relations to God, are to be met, and it does not dispose of the
matter to attempt to forget it or to drive it from the mind.
(c) And another reason why this does not give permanent
peace, and should not be relied on, is, that these thoughts which
now give so much trouble to the sinner may revive in circumstances in which you will be much less able to calm them down
than you may be at present.  As you cannot prevent their
returning at some time hereafter, so you cannot prevent their
returning at any time, and at a season when you will be least
of all capable of grappling with them. They will be quite as
likely to return when you are lying on a sick bed, as when in
the enjoyment of vigorous health; when standing on the verge
of the eternal world, and when the affairs of this life are over,
as when occupied with great questions of business or ambition.
The mind then-when the body is prostrate with disease-will
be in a condition less favourable to calm down these feelings
than it is now, and in that state all the pressure of this terrible
conviction of guilt may come back more heavily upon the soul.
Then, too, not improbably, all the attempts which you now make
to persuade yourself that conviction of sin is connected with a
nervous temperament; or that sin is a trifle not worth regarding;
or that the sinner has no reason for alarm under the administration of a benevolent God; or that the mind may find permanent
peace in driving away its serious thoughts, will be seen to have
been " refuges of lies."  If a man is to grapple with the convictions of guilt; if he is ever to take hold of the great question
how an immortal soul, conscious of depravity, may find peace,
it is better that it should be done when he is in health than
when he is enfeebled by disease; in the days when he can take
up such a question calmly, and in the exercise of his best powers,
than in the hour when he feels that he has but a few moments
more to breathe, and when his soul is riven and agitated with
the thoughts of the coming judgment.




WHAT WILL GIVE PERMANENT PEACE.                  183
Such are some of the reasons why the methods resorted to by
men to give permanent peace to a conscience troubled by the
remembrance of guilt must be inefficacious.  The sum of what
I have said is this:-These methods do not dispose of the subject.
They do not meet it as so great and grave a question should be
met. They do not consult the laws of our nature. They do not
put the matter to rest. They do not give security that all the
anguish arising from conscious guilt may not, and will not revisit
the soul, and in circumstances in which it will be more difficult
to meet it than now. Guilt loses none of its power by distance,
or by age, or by circumstances; and none of these methods tend
to diminish its permanent power, or to furnish permanent security
to the soul.
You may apply these remarks, if you wish an' illustration, to
acoy case of guilt.  You may see their force, for instance, in a
case of murder. The crime that has been committed is a fact
that cannot now be changed.  Whatever disposal is made of it,
it is to remain true for ever that the guilty man did imbrue his
hands in the blood of a fellow-mortal, in violation of the law of
God. That fact can never be forgotten by him-who preserves
the record of human deeds; it is never to be forgotten by him
who has committed the crime. And it does not meet the case
to treat the trouble and anguish which the mind feels in view of
it as the effect of nervous excitement, or to attempt to divert the
mind from  the subject by the business or the amusements of
life; or to conceal the convictions of guilt with the hope that
they will die away; or to attempt to discipline the soul so as
to banish serious thoughts; or to adopt the opinion that the
murderer has nothing to fear under the government of a benevolent God; or to suppose that amends may be made by a correct
life afterwards; or to flee to distant lands with the hope of
going out of the reach of these convictions; or to hope that age
will calm  down these troubles, and that time, that " does
wonders," will wipe the blood from the hand, and the memory of
the deed from  the soul. None of these things meet the case.
TNo matter where the murderer wanders or rests-no matter
what is his condition or employment, there is a record made on
high of the deed; and though he flees over sea and land, and
crosses deserts or snows, and though he should live far on beyond
the age of the oldest man that has walked the earth, or become
like the fabled "wandering Jew," the crime would never be
forgotten or changed; but the hand of justice would be stretched
out to strike, and in the ends of the earth, and in the most distant
years, the act of guilt would have lost none of its freshness in its
13




184             THE WAY OF SALVATION.
power to torture the soul. Guilt lives and lingers, and the
sinner can never go beyond its power.
These things which I have considered are the methods of
human wisdom and philosophy, and beyond these human wisdom
cannot go in calming down the convictions of guilt.
II. I proceed, then, in the second place, to consider the great
question, What is needftl to be done to meet the case, and whether
the plan proposed in the gospel is such as the case demands?
The first great inquiry is, what is necessary in the ca.se-and
this inquiry is large enough and important enough to occupy
the remainder of the present discourse. I shall state, in as
few words as possible, what the laws of our mental constitution
demand.
In securing permanent peace to a guilty conscience, then, it
seems clear to me that the following things are indispensable:
(1.) The laws of our nature must be understood and consulted
in that plan. No plan proposing peace can be effectual which is
not based on a sound mental philosophy, and which would not
be adapted to produce the effect in all ages, among all people,
and in all lands. It must be adapted to man as he is-endowed
with reason, and conscience, and memory, and the faculty of
anticipating the future. If those laws are not consulted, the
plan would be what one prophet so significantly calls " daubing
with untempered mortar" (Ezek. xiii. 10, 15), or what another,
as in my text, calls crying " Peace, peace; when there is no
peace."  The great defect in all human schemes of salvation has
been that those laws have not been consulted, or that, if known,
it has been impossible for man to devise a method that should
meet what they demand.
It would detain us too long from  points more immediately
bearing on the subject, if I should in this place enter on any
attempt to prove to you that what I have now laid down is
correct.  These laws are permanent.  They exist everywhere.
They are found in all men, in all lands, at all times. Amidst
all the variety of character, of language, of rank, of colour, of
condition on earth, men feel guilt in the same way, and the same
thing is necessary to restore peace, and any true system of religion must be adapted to the laws of our being, and must consult
them. Further: every true system must come from God; and
he, the Maker of the soul, must consult the laws of the soul
which he has made. A true system of religion, therefore, must
be in accordance with correct views of mental philosophy; and
although no mere system  of philosophy can suggest what is
necessary in imparting peace to a guilty mind, yet a true system




WHAT WILL GIVE PERMANENT PEACE.                  185
when suggested will be seen to be in accordance with the laws
of our mental nature.  They to whom  a system  of religion,
therefore, is proposed, have a right to demand that it shall meet
the real wants of their nature; that it shall be in accordance
with their conscious mental structure; and that it shall be such
that, in accordance with the laws of the soul, it shall be fitted
to impart permanent peace. On this principle any proposed
system of religion may be tested, and whatever might be supposed
to be its external evidence, it could not be from God, and
therefore not true, unless it accorded with the laws of our being.
Keeping this obvious remark in view, I observe,
(2.) That in order that a guilty conscience may find peace,
there must be a frank and open confession of sin,-confession
made to the One who has been wronged, or whose law has been
violated. This is a law of our nature-a law which cannot be
departed from in any true system of religion. The mind is so
made that it cannot find permanent peace by any device, unless
the wrong which has been done is acknowledged, or while there
is an attempt to " cloke or conceal our offences," or any effort to
excuse or palliate them. We feel instinctively that we have not
done what we ought to do, when we have not made a full and
open acknowledgment of the wrong which we have done, whether
against God or against men.
It requires but little experience in the world, and but little
knowledge of human nature, to understand the relief which is
furnished when we have done wrong, if we make confession of
the wrong. All of us who have in childhood done wrong to
father, mother, brother, sister, playmate-and who of us has
not? —or, who in riper years have done wrong in some way to
others, whether friends or foes-and who of us has not?-have
known something of the anguish, and corrosion, and trouble of
heart which is produced by an attempt to conceal the offence;
to gloss it over with a low and lame apology; or to shelter
ourselves under a miserable refuge of prevarication and falsehood.
And all of us who have done wrong, and who have gone to him
whom we offended, and made a frank and full acknowledgment,
have known the peace which flows from such a confession.  We
have felt, in the one case, that a law of our nature has been
violated; in the other, that that law has been complied with:
and in the latter case, whatever may be the result of the confession —whether we obtain forgiveness or not-we feel that vwe
have done right, and we have relieved ourselves of an intolerable
burden. Even should nothing more be done; should he whom
we have injured coldly turn away; should he utterly refuse to




186              THE WAY OF SALVATION.
forgive us, or even to speak to us again, yet in the very act of
confession we have found a relief which could never have been
obtained by concealment, or by an attempt to apologize for the
offence.
This law of our nature demands that the confession should be
made to no third person, but to the one who has been offended.
When a child has sinned against his father, it will not do for
him to go and make confession to the son of a neighbour, or to
his own brother, or even to his own mother. It would not have
met the case for the prodigal son to resolve to go home and make
humble acknowledgment of his folly to his own brother, or even to
his mother. Nature prompted him to go as he did to his injured
father, and to say, " Father, I have sinned against heaven, and
in thy sight, and am no more worthy to be called thy son."  So,
when we have sinned against God, it will not do to go and
make the confession to any man, whoever he may be, or whatever robes he may wear.  I know that this great principle may
be perverted, as all the laws of our nature may be.  I know
that if this strong prompting of a guilty soul to make confession can be put under the control of a priesthood; if instead of
making the confession to that God whose law has been violated,
the right is claimed of having it made to men consecrated to
the sacred office, that no higher power can be wielded than that.
And I know that this power may be so seized upon, and that there
may be such confidence reposed in one invested with the priestly
office, that temporary peace may be imparted to the guilty; but
this is not to comply with the laws of our nature. This does
not give permanent peace. The power of receiving a confession
of sins committed against God has never been delegated to any
one of his creatures, and all claim of such a right is a usurpation of the prerogative of the Almighty.  The Being who has
been offended alone can pardon, and he only can receive the confession on which pardon can be based.
It was necessary in any true system of religion, that provision
should be made for producing peace in the soul by such confession made to God.  Hence, in the Bible, we have such statements as these: " -e that covereth his sins shall not prosper;
but whoso confesseth and forsaketh them shall have mercy," Prov.
xxviii. 13.  "If we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us.  If we confess our sins, he is
faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from
all unrighteousness," 1 John i. 8, 9. "I will go and return to my
place, till they acknowledge their offence, and seek my face,"
Hos. v. 15. " While I kept silence, my bones waxed old through




WHAT WILL GIVE PERMANENT PEACE.                  187
my roaring all the day long.-I said, I will confess my transgressions to the Lord, and thou forgavest the iniquity of my
sin," Psa, xxxii. 3, 5.  " Against thee, thee only have I sinned,
and done this evil in thy sight," Psa. li. 4.  And in accordance
with this it is said, "' With the mouth confession is made unto
salvation," Rom. x. 10.
(3.) The law of our nature demands that in order that peace
may be imparted to a guilty conscience there should be forgiveness. A partial and temporary peace may, indeed, be found by
confession, as we have just seen; but full and permanent peace
can never be found except by pardon.
We have seen that the fact of the guilt can never be changed.
That is always to remain historically true. ~We have seen that
it can never be forgotten:-forgotten by the God whose law
has been violated; forgotten by him who has violated it. But
though it cannot be historically changed, and cannot be forgotten, it may be forgiven; and the inquiry now is, how that
can give peace. I do not now inquire how it may be kinown that
it is forgiven-that may be a subject of inquiry hereafter; but
how it is that pardon produces peace, and why it is indispensable
that there should be forgiveness in order to permanent peace.
What shall be done with sin when it is committed, is always
a great and grave question-a question too great to enter on
now. What I wish now to say is, that pardon is essential to
the attainment of peace.
(a) The laws of our nature demand this; and by the laws of
our nature, when an offence is forgiven, we have peace.  The
feelings of a man who is pardoned will not, indeed, be precisely
the same which he would have if he had never done wrong. In
the one case there is a calm, approving conscience; a steady
and undisturbed joy; an habitual tranquillity;-in the other, it is
a peace which follows a troubled state of mind:-the one, the
calmness of nature in a May morning, when the dew lies undisturbed on the grass-the other, the beauty of nature after the
tempest has passed by and the sun breaks out from behind the
dark, retiring cloud. But in each instance there is the appropriate kind of peace; and when a man has done wrong, the
peace which flows from pardon is all that he can hope for, and is
all that in fact he needs.  It may be less calm, and steady, and
uniform, than that which results from the consciousness of having
always done right; but it may be more intense, and rapturous,
and thrilling.  The ocean is more sublime when its waves subside after a storm, than it is when its placid waters have not
been disturbed by a tempest.




188             THiE WAY OF SALVATION.
(b) When an offence is parconed, all is done in regard to it
which can be, and all which need to be, to give peace to the
mind. It is true that as an historical fact it cannot be changed;
it is true that it may never be literally forgotten by him against
whom the offence was committed, or by him who committed it,
but all has been done that can be to dispose of it.  He against
whom  it was committed, and who pardoned it, is satisfed in
regard to it. He has no wish to retain the recollection of it.
The fact of our having sinned against him is not henceforward
to affect his feelings towards us. The offence is not to be recalled for purposes of punishment, or to separate us from his
favour and friendship, or to mortify and humble us. The child
that is forgiven by a parent is to be treated in all respects as a
child; the friend as a friend; the enemy as if he had not been
an enemy. We may be humbled, indeed, at the memory of the
sin which we have committed, but it will not be because he
against whom we sinned has a pleasure in reminding us of it;
we may still feel the natural effects of a former evil course of
life, but they will not be the direct infliction of a penalty. Peace
results necessarily from the fact that the sin is forgiven; and if
it is not forgiven, and forgiven by him against whom the offence
was committed-for no one else can forgive it-it is impossible
that the mind ever should find peace.
In the life of our Saviour, as is recorded in one of the passages
on which this discourse is founded, it is said that on one occasion he
went into the house of a Pharisee, at his invitation, to " eat with
him." As he reclined at the table, a female, whose life had been
eminently depraved, came near him weeping, and washed his
feet with her tears, and wiped them with the hairs of her head.
She poured out before him the strong expressions of penitence
and love, and the Saviour had compassion on her, and said,
" Thy sins, which are many, are forgiven.  And they that sat
with him at the table began to say, Who is this that forgiveth
sins also P  And he said to the woman, Thy faith hath saved
thee; go in peace!" Go in peace she would when these gracious
words fell on her ear, for that was all that was wanted to give
peace to her troubled soul. Need we speak of the peace of the
man who has been sentenced to death for crime, and who, trembling in view of his own guilt, and of the awful death before
him, sees the doors of his cell thrown open, and himself permitted to go forth to life and freedom? Need we speak of the
ioy of an offending child, whose father has frankly forgiven
him P  All over the world there is no more certain method of
imparting happiness, than to declare to an offender the fact that




WHAT WILL GIVE PERMANENT PEACE.                   189
he is forgiven; to say to the guilty that his sins shall be remembered no more. When that is done, the soul that was
before like the troubled ocean, "whose waters cast up mire and
dirt," settles down into calm repose-as the waves of the sea of
Tiberias did when the Saviour rose from his pillow in the storm,
and said " Peace; be still."
(4.) There is one other thing that is to be provided for in any
system that shall give peace to a conscience troubled by guilt.
It is, that the act of pardon shall be consistent with the honour,
and the truth, and the justice of him who grants it.  It is not
to be obtained by a bribe; it is not to be in any way connected
with dishonour.  A man with any just views and principles
would not wish to be pardoned, or could not find peace if he
were pardoned, if the act were to break up the government, or
weaken the authority of law.  It may be said, indeed, that this
is not commonly an element taken into consideration by one
who is applying for pardon. This may be: and yet there are cases
in which it would be taken into consideration, and there are
cases where it must be; and in all it would materially affect the
views which we have on being forgiven.  The heart of a child,
though he were forgiven, would be deeply grieved, if in his case
the act of pardon should bring his father into disgrace: if, for
example, his father were a magistrate, and if pardon should be
extended at the expense of justice, and at the sacrifice of all the
claims of law. And still more true is this in the matter of salvation.  Much as we desire to be forgiven and to be saved, we
do not wish to enter heaven over a prostrated law, or over an
humbled government;-in any way in which law, and truth,
and justice will be disregarded; in any way in which the
honour of God will not be promoted.  Joy and peace there
would be in pardon; but that joy and peace would be greatly
augmented if we could see that, in the very act of forgiveness,
all had been done that was needful to be done to maintain the
Divine truth and justice unimpaired, and if, while God forgave,
his justice and his truth only shone forth more gloriously by
the very act.
These things, it seems to me, are essential in any plan for
restoring peace to a conscience troubled by guilt.  Whether
they are to be found provided for in the way of salvation revealed
in the gospel, will be a subject of future inquiry.
The sum  of what I have said now, so far as it may be of
practical value to one in the state of mind which I have supposed
-that of a sinner troubled with the remembrance of guilt-can
be expressed in few words: —




190             TilE WAY OF SALVATION.
(a) Peace is not to be found by an attempt to change the
historical fact that you have sinned, or by forgetting it.
(b) Peace is not to be found by driving serious impressions
from your minds.
(c) Peace is not to be found by mingling in gay scenes, and
by attempting to divert the mind from  the contemplation of
such subjects as sin, death, the grave, eternity.
(d) Peace is not to be found by embracing any false views of
religion, or any doctrines which deny the fact of human guilt
and danger.
(e) Peace is to be found only by making a simple, honest,
frank, and full confession of sin to the God whose law has been
violated, and against whom the wrong has been done.
(f) Peace is to be found by obtaining from him a full and
free pardon: from Iim-not from any man pretending to speak
in his name.
(g) Peace is to be found in some way in which it can be seen
that pardon is not inconsistent with justice —that mercy is not
at war with truth-that compassion for the sinner is not inconsistent with hatred of his sin-and that the forgiveness and salvation of any number of offenders is not inconsistent with the
stability of just government, and the maintenance of the honour
of law.
All these conditions, we think, meet in that plan revealed in
the gospel by which " God can be just, and the justifier of him
that believeth in Jesus;" and to him who is penitent, and who
believes in that gospel, the Saviour, not in mockery, but in sincerity, says now as he did to the penitent female, " Thy sins are
forgiven; go in peace."




SERMON XV.
THE  MERCY  OF GOD.
PSALM ciii. 8.-" The Lord is merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and
plenteous in mercy."
THE subject which is brought before us in this text, is the mercy
of God; and my object in considering it will be, I. To show
what is meant by the mercy of God; and, II. To prove that God
is a merciful Being.
I. My first object is, to explain what is meant by the mercy of
God. In order to a correct understanding of this, and to show
the exact place which the doctrine of the Divine mercy occupies
in a system  of revealed religion, there are several preliminary
remarks which it is proper to make.
M1fercy is favour shown to the undeserving. It is benevolence,
tenderness, pity, compassion, clemency, evinced towards offenders.
It is an essential idea in mercy that he to whom  a favour is
shown is guilty, and has no claim  to it.  If he has any claim
that is commensurate with the favour bestowed, the act is one
of justice and not of mercy.  Grace is a more general term than
mercy, as it relates to the bestowment of favours without so
special a reference to the idea of criminality.  Grace bestows
favours in general; mercy pardons and forgives, and it is that
of which we particularly think when we speak of mercy.
Mercy has been spoken of as the " darling attribute of God;"
a phrase which has no authority in the Bible, nor in any just
views of the Divine character; for that character is to be regarded as a whole, and in every respect worthy of adoration and
praiseo It has been the theme of eulogium by all classes of men,
and there is no attribute of the Almighty on which they speak
with more confidence, or to which they refer with more apparent satisfaction.  It has usually been regarded as so clear that
God is a merciful Being, that it might be taken for granted
without formal proof; and so clear, also, that it is supposed to
be a ground of confidence for all classes of men.  Men of all
characters, and in all conditions of life, profess to rely on that
mercy; and even when they profess to have no Christian hope
of heaven, they take refuge on a dying bed in what they flatter




192              TIlE  WAY OF SALVATION.
themselves is the illimitable compassion of God.  It is the
favourite theme of the moral man, of the infidel, of the universalist-the favourite theme of the man destitute of virtue and
religion, as well as of the Christian; and there is no one subject
on which men seem more disposed to mingle their congratulations than on the fact that their Maker is a God of mercy.  Yet
an analysis of their views and hopes would perhaps show that
the ap)rehensions of these different classes of men are often
very indefinite, and that in their professions they are not always
aware of their own real feelings.
When you ask an infidel what evidence he has that God is
merciful, you may waiit in vain for a reply.  He does not profess
to have any revelation to tell him so.  Iie cannot be permitted
to use the Christian argument, for that he avowedly rejects.
lie cannot refer with certainty to the course of events under the
Divine administration in this world, for there have been as clear
indications that God is just, and that he means to punish the
guilty, as there have been that he is merciful, and is disposed to
pardon them.  He cannot refer to his own feelings on the subject, for how can mere feeling, or opinion, or hope, without a
promise, be regarded as an argument to demonstrate what God
intends to do P  If the real truth were reached in the case, it
would probably be found to be that he does not believe that his
sins deserve the punishment of hell; and that he would regard
it as unjust in God to punish him  for ever; that is, that he is
to be saved by the justice, and not by the mercy of God; and,
after all, he has no idea that there is occasion for the exercise
of mercy in his case, or that he is to be indebted to mercy for
salvation.  When we put the same question to a man who is
expecting heaven on  the ground of his morality, and ask him
definitely what are his conceptions of the mercy of God as
bearing on his own case, we shall in the same manner wait in
vain for a reply.  If we question him about his views of himself
and his hopes, the reluctant truth will be at last arrived at, that
he does not believe that he deserves eternal death; so that in
his apprehension it would be wrong in God to punish him  in
the future world; he also is depending on the justice of God for
salvation, and has no belief that there is in his case occasion for
the exercise of mercy.  The universalist, too, is loud-more loud
than any other man-in his commendations of the mercy of God.
And yet he stoutly, and on principle, maintains that it would
be wlrong for God to cast men into an eternal hell, and exhausts
all his powers of argument and eloquence to show how horrible
and unjust such a, punishment would be: and thus he, also, is




THE MERCY OF GOD.                      193
depending on the justice of God; and the idea of mercy, after
all that is said of it, does not enter into his scheme. Men are
saved, according to his view, because it would be a wrong done
to them if they should not be saved; because infinite injustice
would be done if they should be cast off for ever. So that it
happens, that although the attribute of mercy is the favourite
theme of men, and is often in the mouths of the impenitent and
the wicked, they have no real belief in its necessity, if in its
existence, after all, and their expectations of heaven would be the
same if God were possessed of no such attribute, but were only
severely and sternly just.  Real dependence on the mercy of
God for salvation, is the characteristic only of the man who
feels and confesses that he is a sinner; who acknowledges that
no injustice would be done him if he should not be saved. True
dependence on that mercy will, in fact, be found only among
those who look for salvation as revealed through a Redeemer.
In all governments there are great difficulties in the exercise
of mercy.  Some of those difficulties are the following:-one
relates to the effect which would occur if pardon were never
exercised, and if no mercy were ever shown.  It is easy to conceive that this might be, and that the administration of the law
would be pure, and the government just. But it would be stern
and unfeeling in its character. It would become the object of
mere dread, not of love and confidence.  Justice then would
drive its decisions over some of the finest feelings of our nature,
and over all the sympathies of society, for there are cases in
which we all know that it is desirable that pardon should be
extended to the guilty, and in which all the benevolent wishes
of a community are gratified by the extending of forgiveness.
So clear is this, that in all governments, except those of tyrants,
the power of pardon has been lodged in the hands of the executive and the judges. And yet there is another difficulty. Pardon,
in any case, does just so much to weaken the strong arm of the
law. It is a proclamation that the sentence of the law may be
too severe; or that it is not certain that its penalty will be
inflicted; or that it would be too stern if the penalty were in
all cases executed; and is so far a proclamation, and will be so
interpreted, that crime may be committed in some cases with
impunity. If in one case, why may it not be in others P  And
this difficulty which exists when pardon is extended under the
best arranged safeguards, and with the wisest precautions, always
becomes greater in proportion as acts of forgiveness are granted
freely. If pardon is often exercised, law loses its terror.  If it
were always extended to the guilty, the law and the penalty




194             THE WAY OF SALVATION
would be a nullity. If all prisons were thrown open; if in every
instance in which a jury should find a man guilty, an officer of
the executive should be present, entrusted with the pardoning
power, and instructed to exercise it, what would be the use of
the trial by jury, of the organization of a court, of the effort to
convict the offender? The penalty of the law would be a bugbear, and the process of trial a farce. And why should not the
same difficulties exist in the Divine administration?
When we say, therefore, that God is a merciful Being, we do
not mean to affirm that he will in fact bestow indiscriminate
mercy on all,-that none in fact will be punished, or that all
the guilty will be saved. It is not true that he thus shows
mercy without any metes or bounds, or without any rules by
which he regulates its dispensation. It is a simple matter of
fact that men do suffer punishment in this life-that there are
calamities which come upon the violators of the Divine laws
which cannot be regarded otherwise than as expressions of the
Divine displeasure against sin, and as proofs that God is just,
and will inflict punishment on the guilty. No one has been
able to explain these facts on any other supposition, or to resolve
them  all into expressions of mercy. It is no less certainly a
fact, according to the Bible,-and no one can show that that
contradicts the regular tendency of events,-that many will
suffer in the world to come, and that large numbers will be
unpardoned for ever. I do not mean to maintain, therefore,
that the mercy of God will in fact be bestowed on all men.
Nor do I mean to say, or to admit, that man has any claim on
the mercy of God. If he had a claim it would not be mercy, but
justice; for it is the nature of mercy that it is not a claim which
can be enforced. The moment when it begins to be urged as a
matter of claim or right it ceases to be mercy, and supposes that
some wrong would be done if it were not granted; in other
words, if man were saved in that way, it would be by justice
and not by mercy. Guilt has no claim to favour; and if God
is merciful, it is only to those who are guilty, not to those who
have a claim to favour.
Nor can it be maintained that God will bestow mercy in any
other way than that which he has provided and- proposed to
men. If he has revealed one plan, that method is in fact an
exclusion of all other methods; for it cannot be supposed that
he would propose a new method, if there were already many
ways of obtaining his favour, or that he would, by revelation,
designate one when there were others equally good known
without a revelation. We reason thus about other things. If




THE MERCY OF GOD.                     195
he has laid down rules and laws by which he dispenses his
favours, the business of men is to find out what those rules and
laws are, and to act accordingly. It is not our business to make
these laws, nor, if we are dissatisfied with them, can we suppose
that he will change them  to accommodate our feelings, our
caprice, or our pride. If he has made wealth dependent on
industry, and health on temperance, and reputation on virtue,
those are the laws by which we are to obtain these blessings;
nor can we suppose that he will change them to accommodate
our indolence, our love of strong drink, or our philosophy. If
he has appointed, as a great law, that the industrious farmer
shall have a harvest, and the farmer chooses to spend the time
of sowing or of reaping in idleness or dissipation rather than in
his field, God will not accommodate his love of idleness or dissipation by working a miracle, nor will he change the great laws
by which he bestows blessings on men.  And so in regard to
pardon and salvation. If God has said that these may be
obtained by repentance and by faith in the Lord Jesus Christ,
the revelation of that method is an exclusion of all methods of
man's devising. The hope of man in obtaining salvation in that
way is the same, in principle, as the hope of obtaining property,
health, and reputation, by industry, temperance, and virtue; and
we may expect that the rule will be as certainly adhered to in
the one case as in the other. If men dislike this method, and
choose to disregard it, it cannot be expected that God will work
a miracle to accommodate their self-righteousness, their pride,
their love of sin, any more than he will in the case of a man
who is seeking property or reputation. It will still be found to
be true that he bestows pardon only in the way which he has
revealed; and whatever may be the consequences to men, his
great laws will be observed. And when we maintain that God
is a merciful Being, we mean to maintain that his mercy is
imparted to men'only on the condition of repentance and faith in
the Lord Jesus, and that its exercise is limited to those who
repent and believe the gospel.
Nor do we hold that God shows mercy any otherwise than
as a Sovereign, bestowing it on whom he pleases, according to
the good pleasure of his will. We do not mean, indeed, that he
is arbitrary in the sense that he has no reason for what he does,
or that what he does is to be resolved into mere will; but that
the reasons which influence him are not always disclosed, and
that he must determine on whom, and in what circumstances,
and on what conditions, salvation shall be bestowed. In all
governments the pardoning power must have some such limitation;




196             THE WAY OF SALVATION.
for as pardon is not a matter of claim, it must be left to him
whose law is violated, or to whom the wrong is done, whether
forgiveness shall be granted; and in all cases there are circumstances bearing on the subject which can be known only to him
who makes and who administers the laws.  There are great
interests to be looked at, which the guilty are little qualified to
understand.  Whether any may or may not be pardoned;
whether in particular cases they have such a character that it
will be safe and proper to pardon them; whether they have or
have not complied with the conditions of pardon, if any are
proposed,-are points which must be left to the discretion of the
executive. We cannot suppose that God will exercise mercy in
any other way than as a Sovereign, dispensing pardon as he
judges will be best for the interests of the immense empire over
which he presides.
With these necessary metes and limits, we suppose that the
character of God is essentially that of a merciful Being. We
suppose that he is benevolent not only towards the innocent, but
towards the guilty.  We suppose that it is his nature to be
inclined to show compassion. We suppose that in order to show
this compassion he has been willing to stoop to any sacrifice but
that of truth and justice. We suppose that he has made ample
provision by which he can consistently offer pardon to the guilty
children of men; that none of our race, however guilty, are
excluded from  the offers of salvation, and that he is ready to
bestow forgiveness to any extent on the members of the human
family, if they return to him by true repentance, and by faith in
the blood of his Son. We suppose that none who have applied
to him in this way have been rejected and cast off, or ever
will be.
II. It was my second object to prove that God is such a Being.
I have four classes of arguments to refer to under this head,
each one of which would be in itself ample proof. It is not so
much for the sake of the proof that I refer to them, however, as
it is to bring in varied forms and points of view before our
minds one of the most glorious and momentous truths that have
ever dawned on our world-a truth of deepest interest to every
guilty heart.
(1.) The first argument is derived from  the express declarations of the Bible,-God's own testimony about his character
and purposes. From  a book whose leading design is to reveal
the doctrine which we are considering, it will not be possible
now to adduce all the passages that might be referred to; from a
book where the declarations are so unambiguous in their meaning,




THE MERCY OF GOD.                      197
it will not be necessary to adduce many. Let the following
sufice.  Exod. xxxiv. 6: " And the Lord passed by before him,
and proclaimed, The Lord, The Lord God, merciful and gracious,
long-suffering, and abundant in goodness and truth, keeping
mercy for thousands, forgiving iniquity and transgression and
sin."  So in Deut. vii. 9: " Know therefore that the Lord thy
God, he is God, the faithful God, which keepeth covenant and
mercy with them that love him  and keep his commandments to
a thousand generations."  So in the Psalms: "All the paths of
the Lord are mercy and truth."  " The earth is full of the mercy
of the Lord."' Mercy and truth are met together; righteousness and peace have kissed each other." " The Lord is good;
his mercy is everlasting, and his truth endureth to all generations," Psa. xxv. 10; xxxiii. 5; lxxxv. 10; c. 5. So in Neh.
ix. 17: " Thou art a God ready to pardon, gracious and merciful,
slow to anger, and of great kindness."
Of the same nature, and still more to our purpose, are all
those passages scattered over the Bible, so bright and so numerous
as to cover all its pages with living light, which offer salvation
to men-to all men-with the assurance that all may come and
live. Thus Isaiah: " Ho, every one that thirsteth, come ye to
the waters, and he that hath no money; come ye, buy and eat;
yea, come, buy wine and milk without money and without
price."  "Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white
as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as
wool." "Let the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous
man his thoughts: and let him return unto the Lord, and he will
have mercy upon him, and to our God, for he will abundantly
pardon," Isa. lv. 1; i. 18; lv. 7. And so the Saviour: " Come
unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give
you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me, for I am
meek and lowly in heart, and ye shall find rest to your souls."' If any man thirst, let him come unto me and drink," Matt. xi.
28, 29; John vii. 37. And so those gracious words with which
a volume designed to reveal the mercy of God to man so beautifully and so appropriately closes: " And the Spirit and the
bride say, Come. And let him that heareth say, Come. And
let him that is athirst come: and whosoever will, let him take
the water of life freely," Rev. xxii. 17.
If there were any doubts on this subject, these plain and
positive passages of the Bible would put those doubts to rest.
No language could be more clear.  I need not add that the Bible
is full of passages of a similar character. Indeed, as already
hinted, the leading design of the Bible is to reveal this great




198              THE WAY OF SALVATION.
truth, that God is a merciful Being, and to disclose the terms on
which he will impart mercy, and the way in which it may be
done consistently with the honour of his law and the good of
the universe:-the way in which he may do it so as to avoid
the difficulties to which I adverted in the former part of this
discourse. If we were to attempt to characterize the Bible as
distinguished from  all other books, I do not know  that we
could give a better account of it than this.  One other remark,
however, should be made here. It is, that the mercy offered in
the Bible to men is offered only on definite and carefullyguarded conditions. It is mercy only through a Redeemer;
mercy imparted where there is repentance toward God, and
faith in tlie Lord Jesus Christ.  Every offer of mercy is limited
to that method; within that limit, it is freely and fully offered
to all mankind.
(2.) My second argument is, that this world is evidently
under a dispensation of mercy, or that the facts existing on the
earth can be accounted for only on the supposition that God is a
merciful Being.  The facts to which I refer are these: —that
while God is able to detect and punish all the guilty, while he
has nothing to fear though all the wicked should be cast into
hell; while all sin is the object of his abhorrence; and while he
might justly cut men down and consign them to woe, he spares
them, gives them  opportunity for repentance, and encompasses
them with innumerable blessings.
It is clear that this is not a world of perfect and unmixed
justice.  In such a world, under the government of an Omniscient and Almighty Being, guilt and punishment would never
be separated.  The moment when crime was committed the
hand of justice would be raised to strike, nor would it be
possible for the offender to elude the blow. Hand in hand they
would travel over the earth; nor should we ever see themn
separated by long intervals of time, or by large tracts of land or
ocean. Such, we have reason to believe, was the case with the
apostate angels, sent at once to hell without interval, without
reprieve, and without hope.  Such, too, was the letter of the
threatening addressed to man: " In the day thou eatest thereof
thou shalt surely die"-a sentence that would in like manner
have been executed at once but for the interposition of mercy.
And such would be the infliction of all law, unless justice were
delayed by the intermingling of mercy. The convicted murderer
or traitor would be executed at once, unless the pleadings of
mercy were heard that the offender might have an opportunity
to obtain the Divine forgiveness when human law extends no hope.




THE MERCY OF GOD.                      199
This world bears all the marks of delayed justice and suspended wrath, for the purpose of showing the mercy of God, and
in order that the guilty man may have the opportunity of
obtaining that mercy. Crime and punishment are, by long
intervals of time or tracts of land or ocean, separated. The guilt
of childhood or of youth is often unpunished even in manhood
and old age. Long intervals of country may have intervened
between the places where the crime was committed, and where
the offender now lives.  He may have crossed oceans.  He may
have committed the crime in one part of the world, and be
roaming at large in another; one who has committed an offence
in America may be now roaming on the plains of India; an
offender in India may be living in affuence and splendour in a
gay capital of Europe. He may have been a licentious, a dissipated young man, and in middle life, or in advanced age, all
the blessings which every clime can yield may have been
poured upon him. Guilt often treads flowery paths, and goes
up the heights of honour. It reclines on a couch of ease; rests
on a bed of down; puts on robes of adorning; sits at a table
laden with the bounties of all climes; is admired in the gay
circle; is encompassed with children and friends; is surrounded
with the blessings of civilization, liberty, and art; is permitted
to live amidst the hallowed institutions of religion. And why
is this?  Why does the blasphemer live?  Why courses the
vital blood in the veins of the abandoned and the profligate?
Why does the seducer walk the earth, and why does the scoffer
riot on the goodness of God?  Why does the sun shine on the
dwellings of the ungodly; and the rains and the dews of heaven
descend on the fields of the prayerless; and the winds bear into
port the rich cargo of the man that lives regardless of his
Maker?  Why is the sinner preserved from the pestilence that
walketh in darkness, and the destruction that wasteth at noonday? Why is the sound of music and joy heard in his dwelling?
Wrhy hears he the sound of the viol rather than the sighings of
despair; why the voice of mirth, rather than the groanings of
the world of woe?  It is not because he deserves these things.
It is not because it would be wrong to cut him. off, and remove
him from them all. There is another reason why these things
are so. It is because " the Lord is merciful and gracious, slow
to anger, and plenteous in mercy."
And does not this whole world bear marks of being under a
dispensation of mercy?  The sun is as bright as it was over
Eden; the moon and the stars keep their place as they did
before man sinned; the music is as sweet in the groves; the air
14




200              TIHE WAY OF SALVATION.
is as pure; the stream  purls as gently; the mountain and the
ocean are as grand.  Nature, in all her main movements, pursues her steady course, as though the race had not sinned; and
even those scenes where man suffers are tempered with mercy.
Man suffers, indeed, and dies-for God is just, as well as good.
But how different the scene of sorrow now fiom what it would
be if there were no mercy; how different from the pains of hell.
Around the sick bed, science and skill, and love and tenderness,
are doing all they can to alleviate suffering, and to mitigate
pain.  Man lies indeed-often long after he began to sin, often
after an aggravated life of guilt-on a bed of death. But there
is the patient mother to. wipe away the cold sweat of death;
there is the tender wife; there is the soft hand of a much-loved
daughter; there is the consoling sympathy of a friend; there is
the mild and sweet voice of religion-religion that tells of a
world where there shall be pain and death no more, and where
all tears shall be wiped away from every eye.
We often can approximate to just views only by comparing
great things with small.  Bear in remembrance that this is a
world of sin, and that God might have excluded us from hope,
and consigned us to woe. Then ask whether this world is such
an abode as man himself fits up for his guilty fellow, the offender
against his own laws.  Go to the dungeon-the dark, damp,
cold, sepulchral place, where man confines his guilty fellow-man.
He shuts him  fiom  the light of the sun; binds his limbs in
chains; secludes him from society; drags him  away from wife
and children and home; feeds him on coarse fare; lays him on
a cold bed of earth or straw; and bids him there prepare to die.
I went into one of the best constructed and the best arranged
prisons in our land. There were confined within its walls more
than six hundred men.  Those walls were high and massive,
and designed to prevent all return to the world. I went through
iron gates bolted and barred with all the skill that man can use.
I saw on the walls men stationed to shoot down any who should
attempt to escape. I saw the cells of those imprisoned criminals.
They were small, and dark, and chilly.  I saw those men at
work.  They were sad and sorrowful men.  They had no communication with each other; they had none with any human
being, save at distant intervals with their chaplain. I saw the
father there removed probably for ever fiom his children; the
husband from his wife; the brother from  his sisiter; the m11a
from his neighbour; and though surrounded by hundreds, they
had become isolated beings, and the last cord which bound themln
to the living world seemed to have been snapped asunder. They




THE MERCY OF GOD.                     201
were sullen, and sunken, and sad; for they had no hope of
pardon; and there was an eye of vigilance always upon them,
and there was the deep consciousness of disgrace among them,
and they were held up to the community as unworthy the enjoyments of a home and of domestic comforts and liberty, and the
sight of green fields and of the light. Such is the prison that
man makes for man. Then I look on the offender against God,
and I see him roaming at large in a world beautiful as Eden,
breathing a pure air, enjoying the light of the sun, fanned by
the breezes; surrounded with wife, and children, and friends;
in the midst of luxuries; and crowned with the blessings which
every clime can furnish to minister to his wants, gratify his
appetites, and cheer him in his days of sickness and despondency.
(3.) My third illustration will be drawn from  the fact that
God has sent his Son into our world to die. How ample would
this be as an argument if we had no other. What father would
give his own son to die for the guilty? 5What monarch has
there been who would give his only son to suffer a shameful
death in order to sustain the honour of his own law, and inl
order to save even a whole province of rebels P And where is
the man on a bench of justice in this land who, to save the
guilty, would give up to the same death a much-beloved, an
only son?  The man has not yet lived in this land, rich as it
has been in examples of virtue and benevolence, who would be
willing to do it. Yet " God so loved the world that he gave his
only-begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him might not
perish, but have everlasting life."  And this gift was the proof
of mercy; the mere expression of mercy; the sacrifice which
mercy makes to save the guilty. For, it is not held, it cannot
be held, that the sufferings of the Redeemer made any change
in God. It is not held, and it is not true, that he was originally
stern, and inflexible, and unmerciful; and that he has been made
mild and forgiving by the death of his Son. It is not meant, it
cannot be true, that those sorrows have made God different from
what he was, or made a stern and severe Being mild.  He gave
his Son to die, not that he might be nmade merciful, but as tie
expression of mercy; not that his mercy might be bought, but
because he was originally so nerciful that he was willing to
submit to anything, even the ignominy and death of his own
Son, that man might be saved. A father standing on the shore
of a deep and rapid river sees his child suddenly fall into the
waters. The child struggles with the current, but is borne
farther out into the stream, and is sinking to the bottom.  The
father will instinctively plunge into that stream, at the peril of




202              THE WAY OF SALVATION.
his own life, to save that of his drowning child. But neither
the danger of the child, nor his piercing cry, mnakes the father
compassionate and kind. No; he loved his son so much that he
is willing to throw himself into the torrent to save his life. A
country is invaded.  A father lays his hand on the head of his
only son, and sends him forth with his blessing to the field of
strife and of death.  Does that invasion, that peril, nmake the
father love his country-transform an enemy of its institutions
to a friend?  No. He so loved his country that to save it he
was willing to part with his only son, if need be, that he should
pour out his blood like water in its defence. So the Father of
mercies looked on men.  So he loved the world; so he pitied
the race; so he desired its welfare, that, to save us, he was
willing to give up his Son to death. And such a death! WThat
are all the strugglings of a drowning child; what all the privations of a camp, or the perils of the field of battle; what all the
pains of sickness, the tortures of the rack, the severities of flame,
compared with the sufferings of Jesus Christ? They stand alone.
Nowhere has there been ignominy so great, torture so keen,
and pain so bitter as the Son of God endured. No other spectacle
has been witnessed like that when the Son of God was nailed
to a cross.  And when he had been waylaid and persecuted;
when he had been rejected and spurned; and when he had been
mocked, and reviled, and nailed to the tree; when he had been
crowned with thorns, and a spear had reached his heart, mercy
still prevailed, and the murderers of the Son of God-the perpetrators of that great crime which outpeers every other deed
of human guilt-were told that even they might be pardoned.
And from that cross the proclamation has gone forth that all,
no matter what their guilt, may be saved.  I-ere flows blood so
rich, so pure, so precious in the sight of the eternal Father, that
it is sufficient to atone for the sins of the whole world, and all
who are now penitent, and who believe on his name, may enter
heaven.
(4.) There is one other source of evidence which might be
insisted on at much greater length than were now expedient;
and that is, the fact that sinners of all classes, and ages, and
grades of guilt have found mercy. The proof is this:-They
have gone to God confessing their sins; they have gone borne
down with a deep sense of their guilt; they have gone with a
troubled conscience; with an agonized spirit; with true repentance, and have in fact found peace.  In their lives they have
given all the evidence which could be given that their sins have
been pardoned by a gracious God; in the peace and the triumph




TIE  MFERCY OF GOD.                     203
of their dying moments they have furnished all the proof which
could be furnished that they have been restored to the Divine
favour.
The world has been full of instances of this kind.  Your own
minds will instantly advert to such cases as the following:David, after a crime which for ever dimmed the lustre of his
name, and stained his memory, sought and obtained forgiveness.
Saul of Tarsus, an infuriated persecutor, and regarded by himself
as the chief of sinners, received forgiveness.  Peter, after a most
awful denial of his Lord, was pardoned.  The thief on the cross
was forgiven in the hour of his death, for he pleaded that he
miiht be remembered by the Lord Jesus when he should colme
in his kingdom.  The poor publican who smote upon his breast
and said, " God be merciful to me a sinner," "went down to
his house justified."  Every class of men finds its representative
in these and in other individuals who are described in the
Scriptures as having  obtained mercy.  These cases at once
furnish a proof that God is a merciful Being, and a warrant for
all of like character with them to go to him and plead for pardon.
To the long list of Scripture characters, how easy would it be
to add a catalogue of unlimited extent of others who have
obtained mercy. When Augustine, after an early life of wretched
dissipation, is reformed; when the Earl of Rochester, after a life
of abandoned and gross sensuality, repents and obtains mercy;
when Col. Gardiner in the very act of contemplated wickedness
is arrested, warned, and saved; when John Newton, a slavedealer, is changed and becomes a herald of salvation; when
John Bunyan, a very model of profaneness and a proverb for
blasphemy, is pardoned and made to instruct almost the whole
world by his " Pilgrim," why should any sinners despair of
mercy P  If such men obtained pardon, is not the proof clear
that God is a Being of compassion, and that he is ready to
forgive?
Yet the proof does not stop here. Many thousands, nay, many
millions, not less guilty, have been pardoned, purified, admitted
to the favour of God, translated to heaven.  Thousands, and tenl
times ten thousand, in the dark hour of conscious guilt, when
despairing of being able to save themselves, and when an impenetrable gloom has settled on their souls, and when darkness
covered the present and the future with a funeral pall, have
come to the throne of mercy and found there forgiving love.
How many are there at the present moment who could bear
witness for God that he is merciful, and slow  to anger, and
ready to forgive! I-low many are there in all the churches in




204    T        THE WAY OF SALVATION.
this land, and in other lands, now on their way to heaven, who
had profaned his name, his sabbaths, and his word; who had
been sunk in sensuality, or hardened in infidelity; who had
been the companions of the dissipated and the vile; who long
resisted the appeals of mercy, and slighted and despised the
blood of the Redeemer, but who are now "in their right mind,"
and prepared to testify that he is merciful, and that his throne
is accessible to the broken-hearted, returning prodigal! The
earth-blessed be his name!-contains millions of living witnesses that he is merciful, and the heavens are filled with those
who have been pardoned by his grace. Is God merciful? Let
the ransomed saints on high speak-that blood-washed throng,
now with harps in their hands in heaven.  Is God merciful?
Let those now on earth, redeemed by the same blood, speakthe bands of Christian pilgrims, pardoned sinners on their way
to the skies. Is God merciful?  Let the Christian speak from
the bed of death-now, with evidence of pardoned sin, and peace
in his soul, pluming himself for his eternal flight, and about to
join the ransomed hosts beyond the swelling flood.  Is God
merciful? The church below, and the church above; the pardoned
penitent, exulting and rejoicing; the dying saint,-all proclaim
that he is compassionate and kind, and ready to forgive. Not
one has gone to him penitent and been rejected; no sinner,
however great his sins, has gone with a broken heart to the
throne of mercy and been sent empty away.
Such are some of the reasons why we deem it to be right to
come to the throne of our Maker with the feeling that he is a
merciful Being, and that, however great and aggravated may
have been our sins, it is right to hope for pardon and salvation.
In conclusion, let us learn that there is ground, then, for hope.
There is all the ground that, as sinners, we need-all that we
could ask for. There is all that we could desire in the assurances
which God gives respecting his own character; in his dealings
with our world; in the sacrifices which he has made in order
that he might consistently pardon; in his treatment of those
who have gone to him and confessed their sins. No one could
desire more plain assurances; more earnest invitations; more
encouragement from the success of those who have gone before
him and besought his favour. But let us learn, also, that there
is no room for presumption. Mercy is indeed bestowed on the
guilty, but it is only in an appointed way, and on carefully
specified conditions. They who trust in God's mercy are authorized to do it to an unlimited extent in the manner which he has
revealed; to no extent in any other way. For he has other




THE MERCY OF GOD.                     205
attributes than that of mercy. Hie is true, he is holy, he is just,
he is righteous, as well as long-suffering; and our hope of his
favour is limited to the way which he has specified and revealed.
On his mercy in that way we may rely with the fullest assurance
to any extent; apart from that we have no promise, nor has he
furnished evidence that he will save.
And let us learn, also, that even in this way his offer of mercy,
in regard to us, will soon close. Death is its outer limit. The
offer extends not beyond the grave; the evidence that it is
granted lies wholly this side the tomb. Who can show us a
promise that a, sinner will be pardoned in the eternal world?
Who can furnish evidence that one has been there forgiven?
No: —the forbearance of God will soon be ended, and the sinner
will soon be in a merciless world. Here the sinner may be
forgiven. Here the Father invites, and the Saviour pleads, and
the Holy Spirit draws the heart. Soon all this will be ended.
To-day mercy may be found; to-morrow it may be too late.
To-day heaven and earth, God and angels, pious parents, pastors,
and friends entreat; to-morrow you may be in a world where
mercy never has been found, and where the assurance that it
could be found, now  so much unheeded, will never fall on
the ear.




SER3MON XVI.
THE ATONEMENT AS FITTED TO GIVE PEACE TO A CONVICTED SINNER.
1 Jo-IN i. 7.-" The blood of Jesus Christ his Son cleanseth us from all sin."
IN the previous discourses we have been conducted to the great
inquiry respecting the gospel, —What are its provisions and
arrangements to save the guilty?  The gospel is a system  to
save sinners. This is its grand peculiarity; with reference to
this all its arrangements are adjusted, and all other things that
are connected with it are subsidiary to this, or collateral to it.
The question, we are to suppose, which was before the Divine
Mind in originating this scheme was, How may arrangements be
made to save the guilty? This is the position which a speculative
inquirer ought to take when he examines the gospel; this the
point from which a convicted sinner ought to look at the gospel;
this the point from  which infidels and Christians should regard it.
The inquiry relates now, not so much to the speculative philosopher, the infidel, or the Christian, as to the convicted and
guilty sinner.  When he looks into this revealed plan, what
does he see to meet his case? PHe turns awav from  all other
things as furnishing a hope of salvation; he despairs of every
other method; he is condemned by the law of God and by his
own conscience; he feels that he is to die, and that there is
a God of justice before whom  he must soon appear; he looks
out tremblingly on a dark and dreaded eternity; and he comes
to the Bible, as a professed revelation from  God, to find something that will meet his case.  What is the way of salvation
which it reveals for a lost sinner?
Foremost in all its revelations he sees Christ and his cross.
All the great statements in that book arrange themselves around
one truth-that a Saviour has died; that an atonement has
been made.  Every promise of pardon is originated there; all
the assurances of Divine mercy have their sources there; all that
is said of justification and sanctification is founded on that work;
all the invitations, encouragements, and assurances of favour in




THE ATONEMENT AS FITTED TO GIVE PEACE.   207
the book are based on that. Everything that is said in the
book about the salvation of a sinner may be regarded as concentrated and embodied in my text:-" The blood of Jesus Christ
his Son cleanseth us from all sin."
What can be more important for us sinners than to consider
this?  Yet I do not propose to discuss the doctrine of the
atonement, as such, as I should feel myself called upon to attempt
to do if I were addressing myself to infidels and philosophers.
I should then regard myself as bound to endeavour at least to
vindicate the doctrine from objections; to demonstrate its consistency with law; to show why it is not found in a scheme of
human administration; to exhibit the defects of all human
governments without it; to prove that man has everywhere
shown that he has felt his need of it; and to convince such men
that it, in fact, maintains the harmony of justice and mercy in a
moral government. But these, however great and important in
themselves, would be points foreign to the present position to
which we are brought in the progress of this discussion. We
are now to look at the atonement as a revealed arrang/ement to
meet the condition of a convicted sinner. The inquiry is, how
that meets his case; how that will lay the foundation for restoration to peace.
To see the real point of this inquiry, you are to recollect the
state of the sinner as it has been illustrated. The following
points, then, are to be borne in remembrance:-(1.) He has
violated the law of God, and is in fact, and in feeling, a guilty
man.  (2.) He cannot now change the fact that he has sinned,
for that is to remain historically true for ever, whatever may be
the consequences.  (3.) He cannot repair the wrong done to a
violated law; the wrong done to society; the wrong done to
his own soul and to his Maker.  (4.) He cannot, by any act
of his, now remove the penalty-for that has a connexion with
the violation of the law  which the offender cannot himself
dissolve.  (5.) He cannot urge any claim to pardon-for pardon
is never a matter of claim, and a violator of law is dependent on
sovereignty.
The inquiry then is, What does the death of Christ-the
atonement-do to meet this case?  It is my wish, as well as I
am able, and as simply and plainly as possible, to explain this.
There are substantially but two inquiries:-I. What is meant by
the atonement? And, II. What is accomplished by it in the salvation of a sinner?
I. The first inquiry is, V/hat is nmeant by the atonement? What
is the idea when it is said that the blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth




208              THE WAY OF SALVATION.
from all sin?  What in all those passages which spealk of him.
as "a propitiation" for sin; as giving himself a "ransom for
many;" as dying in the place of sinners; as being "made a
curse for us;" as "bearing our sins in his own body on the
tree;" as being our "peace," and as "reconciling us to GodP"
What may we suppose Paul preached among the Corinthians
when he resolved to "know nothing among them  but Jesus
Christ and him crucified?"
It seems proper, in order to a clear understanding of this, to
state, first, what the atonement is not, or what we should not
expect to find in it,-for the hope of heaven, so far as based on
the atonement, or on anything else, should not be founded on
falsehood, but on truth. No false view on any subject will be of
value to a man on his final trial.
We have seen, by an incidental remark already made, that
there are some things in regard to sin and the sinner which
cannot be done by the atonement or by any other arrangement.
They are, that the historical fact of the commission of sin cannot
now be changed; that it will always remain true of the sinner
that he has violated the law of God, and is a guilty man; that
the wrong cannot now be repaired, since there is a wrong done
by the very act of sin which nothing subsequent can entirely
remove, however it may be overruled; and that nothing can
now be done by which the offender can urge, in any proper
sense, a claim to pardon.
In addition, I wish now to state the following things as points
not contemplated by an atonement, and which the sinner is not
to expect to find in the atonement. I state them because they
are sometimes supposed by an inquirer to be a part of the atonement, and because there are sometimes representations made by
the fiiends of Christianity as if they were; and because the
enemies of the atonement sometimes evince a desire to represent
these things as constituting a part of it.
(a) The atonement, then, does not change God, or make him a
different Being from what he was. He is in nowise, now that
the atonement is made, a different Being from  what he was
before, or from what he would have been if the atonement had
not been made; he will never be a different Being from  what
he now is, and always has been, whatever may be the destiny
of man. He is no more benevolent, no more disposed to show
mercy now, than he was before the atonement was made; he
was no more disposed to do justice then, or to punish offenders,
than he is now, and always will be. It is a great principle in
all correct views of God that he is, in all respects, unchangeably




THE ATONEMENT AS FITTED TO GIVE PEACE.   209
the same, "without variableness or shadow of turning;" and
this principle is to be held in all its integrity in relation to
every doctrine of natural or revealed religion.
(b) Similar to this, and growing out of it, is a second thought,
that the atonement is not designed, so to speak, to buy God over
to mercy; to make a Being before harsh and stern and severe,
mild; or to melt a heart, naturally hard, to compassion. I do
not deny that there have been representations by even the
friends of Christianity which would bear the interpretation that
this is their belief; and I do not deny that some of the language
of our sacred poetry is liable to this construction.  Thus such
language is found in our own Watts, whose devotional poems
are in general so correct in sentiment, and so well adapted to
express the feelings of true piety:"Rich were the drops of Jesus' blood,
That caled his frowning face;
That sprinkled o'er the burning throne,
And turn'd the wrath to grace."
In this language the representation undoubtedly is, that God
was originally stern and unforgiving; and that he has been
made mild and forgiving by that "blood" of atonement which
" calmed his frowning face."  It cannot be denied that such
representations as this would be conveyed by the language used
sometimes in the pulpit; or that there are views of the death of
Christ prevailing in the Christian church which would justify
such a construction.
But these views cannot be correct; and those who use such
language must do it, as Watts seems to have done, under the
influence of warm poetic or devotional feeling, where the language conveys more than it was possible in their soberer moments
to believe to be true; or else they hold views of the atonement
which can in no way be vindicated. God cannot change. He
cannot be a different Being from what he always has been. He
cannot be bought over to mercy by blood.  He never has been
a stern and inexorable Being, and then made mild and forgiving
by the death of his Son. The human mind is so made that it
cannot believe that doctrine; and no man can be required to go
and proclaim such a doctrine to mankind. The true statement
on this point will be seen from another part of this discourse.
It is, in a word, that God was always merciful, benevolent, and
kind; but that, in his government, as in all governments, there
existed obstacles to the pardon of the guilty lying in eternal
justice, and in the necessity of maintaining the authority of law;




210             THE WAY OF SATJVATION.
that until these were removed he could not consistently make a
proclamation of mercy; that in order to remove them, he gave
his Son to die; and that the gift of his Son, therefore, was just
an expression of the eternal benevolence of his character; a
proof, not that he was originally stern and severe, and that
he was made mild and forgiving by the atonement, but that
he was so mild and benevolent that he was willing to stoop
to any sacrifice, but that of truth and justice, to save a lost
world.
(c) A third thought sometimes supposed to be a part of the
doctrine of the atonement, but not properly connected with it,
is, that Christ died to endure the strict and proper penalty of
the law. But it is equally plain that this cannot be, and that
men cannot be required to believe it; and that when they profess to believe it, they either have no clear ideas of what they
profess to believe, or use language without any definite signification. The penalty of the law in the case of transgression is
what the law appoints as an expression of the evil of the offence,
and as designed to give sanction to the law and to maintain it.
The proper penalty of the law can be borne by the offender only,
and cannot be transferred to another.  A substitute may bear
something in the place of the penalty, or something which shall
answer the same end; but when a man offends, the law threatens
him, and no other.  It was not true, either, that the law which
man had violated ever threatened, as its specific penalty, a death
on a cross; and it was not true that the Saviour endured on
that cross what properly enters into the notion of the penalty of
the law. It was not true that he suffered remorse of conscience;
it was not true that he suffered eternal death; it cannot be
believed that, in those short hours, he endured as much pain as
all the wicked for whom  he died would have endured in the
horrors of an eternal hell. And, moreover, if he had endured
the literal penalty of the law, no small part of the glory of the
atonement would have been taken away. If this had been so,
the short account of the whole transaction would be, that the
entireness of guilt and punishment were transferred from the
guilty to the innocent, and that there had been no gain to the
universe, since all the punishment originally threatened had
been rigidly inflicted, not indeed on those who deserved it, but
on One who did not deserve it.
Laying these things, therefore, out of view, as not necessary
in any just conceptions of the atonement, and as inconsistent
with any proper view of that great work, the simple statement
of it is, that it is an arrangement designed, by the substituted




THE ATONEMENT AS FITTED TO GIVE PEACE.   211
sufferings and death of the Lord Jesus Christ, to make the
exercise of mercy towards the guilty consistent with justice and
the honour of law; or an arrangement which will make it
proper for God to exercise the original mercy of his nature consistently with a due regard to the stability of his government,
and a due expression of his hatred of sin. The origin of the
atonement is the benevolence, not the justice of God; the object
aimed at is the manifestation of that benevolence consistently
with justice; it would not have been resorted to, if benevolence towards the guilty could have been properly exercised
without it.
II. We are led, then, in the second place, to inquire what it
in fact accomplishes in the plan of salvation.
I look upon it, so far as it comes before the mind of a sinner
convinced of guilt, and inquiring how peace and salvation may
be found, as having two great features.  First, it is an expression of the willingness of God to pardon the guilty; and, secondly, it is a device for removing the obstacles to pardon, so
as to make the forgiveness of sin consistent with justice and
truth.
First. It is an expression of the willingness of God to pardon
the guilty.  It is in this light that a sinner convicted of sin will
naturally look at it; it is with reference to this that he will
study it. The grand question which he wishes now to be solved,
and which must now be solved, if he ever finds peace, is this:whether he may hope that God will be willing to forgive
offenders against his law.   It is not whether he is benevolent
in general; or whether he is just and true; but it is specifically
whether he is willing to forgive the sin which now gives the
inquirer so much trouble, and to receive one conscious of guilt
to his favour.  This is the question which the child asks respecting a parent whose law he has violated; this is the question which the offender against a human law asks when he
confesses his guilt, and throws himself upon the mercy of his
country; this is the question which is asked all over the heathen
world, when the worshippers there, conscious of guilt, come with
bloody sacrifices to their altars; and this is the question which
the sinner everywhere asks, when convicted of sin, and when
he feels that he deserves to be banished  to  the abodes of
despair.
Now a simple and single declaration on the part of God might
have settled that question for ever, and put the agitations of a
troubled soul at once to rest, even if nothing were said about
the way in which such a declaration could consistently be made.




212   -           TIE WAY OF SALVATION.
But that is not the method which has been in fact adopted.
"What I beg your particular attention to is the fact, that all the
offers of pardon in our world, and all the assurances of the
Divine mercy to the guilty, have come through the sufferings
and death of Jesus Christ-through the atonement.
(a) If you go outside of that, or look anywhere else, where
will you see evidence, where will you find an assurance, that
God is willing to pardon the guilty P  If you go to the heathen
of ancient or modern times, none of their oracles give any assurance that pardon can be obtained from an offended God; from
not one of their priests could a response be obtained that would
give peace to a troubled conscience.  If you go to an infidel, he
has no communication that will give peace to such a conscience.
All the assurances in the Bible he on principle rejects, and he
professes to have none that can be a substitute in their place.
If you open the Koran, the Shasters, the Vedas, the Zendavesta,
you meet no assurance on which you can rely as a communication from Heaven, that God is willing to forgive the violator of
his laws.  If you ask the philosopher, he has nothing to say on
this point, but will rather endeavour to convince you that you
do not need pardon,-that you should attempt to discipline your
own soul to meet the trials of this life, and to be ready for the
future, and not to trouble yourself about feelings that spring up
from the indulgence of the passions implanted in you by your
Maker. As to pardon, in the proper sense of the term,-as to
forgiveness, such as a convicted sinner feels that he needs,-all
these oracles, priests, and philosophers, are dumb.
(b) But how is this matter presented in the atonement made
by Christ? The inquiry of the mind is, whether God is willing
to pardon him who has violated his law, and who is troubled
at the remembrance of the past, and in anticipation of the future.
There is much, it would be idle to deny, that is mysterious
in the incarnation of the Son of God, and in the atonement made
by Him: and what is there that comes before the minds of
mortals that is divested of mystery?  There are many questions
which the sinner, in the state of mind in which I am supposing
him to be, is not yet able to solve, if he ever will be in this life,
or ever afterwards.  But, in reference to the main matter,-to
the great inquiry which perplexes him-to the question whether
God is willing to pardon a sinner-to the disclosure of the
character of God with this view, made by the gift of a Saviour
and by his death on the cross,-the following things are so
plain in the Bible that there can be no doubt of them in his
mind, and they are of such a nature as just to meet his case:



THE ATONEMENT AS FITTED TO GIVE PEACE.   213
(1.) The atonement is, on the part of God, an expression of
mere benevolence-a gift of love: " God so loved the world that
he gave his only-begotten Son."  He did not give him because
there was a claim on him; he did not give him that he might
in some mysterious way be made merciful;-nor did the Saviour
come that he might change the character of his Father, and
make an inexorable being mild and kind; or that he might buy
him over to mercy by his sacrifice; —but God gave him because
he loved the world, and as the expression of his original and
eternal benevolence.
(2.) It is the highest possible expression of benevolence. For,
to use human language, what higher expression of love can there
be than for a father to give an only, a much-beloved son?  And
when has there been in a human soul benevolence of so high
an order as to be willing to give up a son to die for such an
object? What earthly monarch has ever occupied a throne who
would be willing to give up a much-beloved son to death, to
save his guilty subjects from  deserved punishment P  In our
own land-rich as it has been in examples of benevolence and
self-sacrifice-what judge has ever been seated on the bench
who, to save the convicted murderer at his bar, much as there
might be in his youth, or beauty, or high connexions, or endowments, to excite sympathy, would be willing to give an only
son to occupy his vacated place on the gallows?  Who would
give up his child to save an enemy; who, even to save a friend P
His own life he might give for his friend; but who would give
himself for his foe? "For scarcely for a righteous man will one
die; yet peradventure for a good man some would even dare to
die. But God commendeth his love toward us, in that, while
we were yet sinners, Christ died for us," Rom. v. 7, 8.  And
when the trembling and anxious sinner looks upward toward
the eternal throne, and asks for a proof of love-for some intimation that God is willing to pardon-for something that shall
soothe his feelings with the assurance that God is a God of
mercy, and is slow to anger, and is not willing that the sinner
should die,-here he sees it-sees all that the soul can ask-sees
all that it can conceive of as a high expression of love.
(3.) Contemplating the death of Christ with reference to the
question of so much interest to him, whether God is willing to
pardon the guilty, he meets the assurance everywhere in the
Bible that the sacrifice of Christ was made for all men.  " God
loved the world."  " One died for all."  " By the grace of God
he tasted death for every man."  "If I be lifted up from  the
earth, I will draw all men unto me."  " He is the propitiation




214              THIE WAY OF SALVATION
for our sins, and not for ours only, but also for the sins of the
whole world." He came that " whosoever believeth in him should
not perish, but have everlasting life."
Nothing is plainer in the Bible than that the atonement was,
in some proper sense, made for all mankind.  That it is so is
stated in language so plain that it would seem not possible to
mistake it; in language as plain as any found in the creeds of
those churches which profess to believe the doctrine; in language
as plain as any ever employed by those who wish to defend the
doctrine; in words so plain that if it be admitted that it was
intended to teach it, it would not be possible to do it in human
language unless that actually employed in the Bible teaches it.
It was an offering made for the race. It was a gift for a fallen
world. It had respect not so much to individuals as to the law,
the perfections, and the government of God. It was an opening
of the way of pardon; a method of making forgiveness consistent; a device for preserving truth; a scheme for " magnifying
the law and making it honourable;" an arrangement-such as
has been wanted in all human governments, but which has been
found in none-by which he who forgives can be at the same
time strictlyjuzst. It is, therefore, as applicable to one individual
as to another; for, having made arrangements for securing these
great interests in the salvation of one soul, the arrangement is
necessarily one that may be extended to all.
The full benefit of this atonement, therefore, is offered to all
men-to each and all of the human family. God makes the
offer; and he makes it in sincerity and in good faith; and he
expects that his views and feelings in. this will be respected and
honoured by all who presume to speak in his name.  He has
never commissioned any class of men to make a partial offer of
salvation; to limit the invitation to any favoured class-few or
many-of mankind; to show any special respect in this matter
to any rank, to any complexion, to any kindred or tongue.  He
has commissioned his servants to go and preach the gospel to
"every creature;" that is, the good news that salvation is provided for them-for in no other sense would it be the gospel to
them. He that does not do this; that goes to offer the gospel
to a part only; to elect persons only; or that teaches that God
offers the gospel only to a certain portion of mankind, violates
his commission, practically charges God with insincerity, and
makes the language which God has used with such apparent
plainness, delusive, ambiguous, or unmeaning.  It is never to be
forgotten that the offer of salvation is not made by man, but by
God. The offer stands recorded in his own word; the business




THE ATONEMENT AS FITTED TO GIVE PEACE.   215
of the ambassador is to go and proclaim that, and that only.
It is the risen Saviour's commission-his solemn charge, when
he was about to ascend to heaven-that the offer of salvation
should be made to every creature. It is not the fault of his
commission, or to be traced to any limitation in the merits of
the atonement, that all that dwell upon the earth have not
heard it:-that every Hindoo, African, and Islander has not
long since been told that he might be saved through a Saviour's
blood.
I assume the free and full offer of the gospel to all men to be
one of those cardinal points of the system by which all other
views of truth are to be determined. It is the corner-stone of
the whole edifice; that which makes it so glorious to God, and
so full of good-will to men. For one, I hold no doctrines, and
never can hold any, which will seem  to me inconsistent with
the free and full offer of salvation to every human being, or
which will bind my hands, or palsy my tongue, or freeze my
heart, when I stand before sinners to tell them  of a dying
Saviour. I have no fellow-feeling for any other gospel; I have
no "right hand of fellowship" to extend to any scheme that
does not teach that God sincerely offers all the bliss of heaven to
every child of Adam-be he a Caffrarian, a Hindoo, a Laplander;
a beggar, or a king; a man of wealth, learning, and respectability, or an abandoned wretch;-to the man that, by the grace
of God, will ultimately reach heaven, and to the man that by
his own fault will wander for ever as an outcast on the plains
of despair.
This scheme of salvation I regard as offered to the world, as
freely as the light of heaven, or the rains that burst on the
mountains, or the swellings of broad rivers and streams, or the
bubblings of fountains in the desert. And though millions to
whom  it is offered do not receive it, and are not savingly
benefited by it, though in regard to them the provisions of the
plan may be said to be, in a certain sense, in vain, yet this
result does not stand alone in the arrangements of God. I see
in this the hand of the same God that pours the beams of noonday on barren sands, that sends showers on desert rocks, and
that gives bubbling springs where no man is-to our eyes, but
not to his, in vain. It is the overflowing of benevolence, the
richness of the Divine mercy; the profusion of the gifts of
the Creator, the fulness of compassion, that can afford thus to
flow over all the earth-even on wastes and solitudes; for
the ocean of love which supplies all can never be exhausted or
diminished.
15




216              THE WAY OF SALVATION.
I have thus endeavoured to show that the atonement made by
the Saviour meets the awakened and convicted sinner as a
practical expression of the willingness of God to pardon the
guilty; as answering a question which the mind nmust ask in
that state, whether it is right for men to hope in the mercy of
God, or whether there is mercy for the lost.
Second. The other aspect, as I remarked, in which the atonement is presented in the Bible, is, that it is a device or scheme,
on the part of God, for removing the obstacles under a moral
government to the exercise of pardon, and for making the forgiveness of a sinner consistent with the maintenance of the
honour of the law, and with justice and truth. This will open
before us these inquiries:  What are the obstacles in a government to the exercise of pardon; what devices are resorted to in
human governments to meet these difficulties; and how  the
atonement removes the difficulties, and makes it consistent for
God to pardon the guilty?
It was my intention to enter on this inquiry, and to complete
it in this discourse; but I must reserve it for the ensuing.
In conclusion, and as a proper application of this part of the
subject, I beg leave to ask your attention to one particular
point; it is this: —that this view of the atonement meets an
anxious inquiry which has always been made by the human
mind, and which must continue to be one of the important
questions before our race. It is, whether God is willing to
pardon the guilty; whether those who are conscious of having
violated his law may come to him with the hope that he will
forgive them.  Now, taking the race at large-embracing the
ancient Hebrew people, the ancient and modern heathen world,
and the multitudes who have resided, and do reside in Christian
lands-I do not know that there is any one question that has
interested so many minds, or interested them so deeply, as this.
I admit that there have been many in all these lands who have
felt no immediate interest in it, and whose attention could not
be awakened to it; I admit that there are many who profess to
look upon the inquiry as superfluous, and many who profess to
consider it a question which could not be answered; I admit
that it is not a question which has been extensively considered
in the books of philosophy; and I admit that there have been
other inquiries that have excited a more immediate, and, for the
time, a deeper interest in many minds than this.  But I am
speaking of the race at large; and what I am saying is, that
there is no one question that has, in one way or another, excited
so deep an interest as this. It was the orig'in of all the sacrifices




THE ATONEMlENT AS FITTED TO GIVE PEACE.   217
of the Hebrews.  It lies at the foundation of all the bloody rites
of the heathen.  It is the source of all the pilgrimages and
penances-the fastings and scourgings-the self-torture by uncomfortable postures, by iron beds, and by hair-cloth, among the
Papists. It is the explanation of swinging on hooks, and holding the hand in one position till the muscles become immovably
rigid, and walking on sharp spikes, and sacrificing children,
among the heathen.  And it is the cause of the anxious inquiry
of the man convinced of sin in Christian lands, and under the
full light of science and religion, how he may be saved.  No
man can be convinced that he is himself a sinner, and not ask
this question; and there is no man who nmay not be convinced
that he is a sinner; no one, I believe, who at some time will not
be.  It is a question which men ask in solitude-in the shades
of evening, in the gloom of midnight, when the remembrance of
long-forgotten guilt comes stealing over them; it is a question
which men ask when in sudden danger, and when they feel that
they are soon probably to be called into the presence of an
offended God; it is a question which men ask when, under the
preaching of the gospel, their sins are plainly set before them;
it is a question which is asked with the deepest possible interest
when the Spirit of God descends with power on a community in
a revival of religion; it is a question which a man who has been
careless, and worldly, and wicked in his life, asks with the
intensest interest on the bed of death. Can the lIcaker of the world
show mericy? is the great inquiry-the leading, prominent inquiry
-that has stood before the minds of men. Will he pardon a transgressor of his law? Can a guilty being trust in his compassion?
Mlay one who is conscious of deep criminality, and who is soon to
stand before him in judgment, hope for his favour?  Can the
past be forgiven? Can peace be restored to a soul, when conscience is doing its fearful work?  Oh! where shall an answer
be found to these questions?  From what hidden recesses; from
what shrines, and oracles; from what sacred groves; from what
deeps of earth or of the blue ether; from what lips of the living,
and from  what whisperings of the " pale and sheeted dead,"
shall the answer come?
I believe that the answer-the sole and sufficient answer  to
all these questions is found in the Cross of my Redeemer. I see
there-in the gift of such a Sa7iour; in the avowed design of
his coming; in the wonderful work of the atonement which he
performed-an assurance that God loves a guilty race, and that
he is ready to pardon.  TWhat more do I need than the assurance of the Son of God?  What other confirmation of it do I




218              THE WAY OF SALVATION.
demand than what I have in his agony and bloody sweat, his
cross and passion P  Mystery still there may be on a thousand
questions pertaining to the Divine administration; and a thousand
questions I might wish to ask even about this work, but the
main inquiry is answered. I am assured there that God loved
the world.  I am  assured that my Redeemer died, that God
might show his willingness to pardon.  I am assured that he
tasted death for every man. I am assured that whosoever will
may take the water of life freely. The agitations of my soul
die away; my mind settles down into peace; my fears subside;
I can look calmly up to God, calmly to the grave, calmly to the
eternal future;-for the great question in which I feel more
interest than in all others is answered-whether I, a sinner, may
hope in the mercy of my God!




SEtRMON XVII.
THE ATONEMENT AS IT REMOVES THE OBSTACLES IN THE
WAY OF PARDON.
COL. i. 20.-" Having made peace through the blood of his cross."
IN the last discourse I entered on the consideration of the atonement as an arrangement, under the Divine administration, for
giving to a mind troubled with. the consciousness of guilt a
sound and permanent peace. I stated that the atonement is a
device in the Divine government by which God designs to
evince the benevolence of his nature in the pardon of the guilty,
while at the same time he manifests a due regard to law, to
truth, and to justice.  The atonement, as then remarked, is
founded primarily in the benevolence, and not in the justice of
God; or it is a way by which benevolence can be manifested
without impairing or endangering the interests of justice. As
viewed by one who is condemned by his own conscience, and by
the law of God, by one who feels that he is exposed to the
Divine displeasure, and who is conscious of the need of pardon,
which is the true point of view from which to contemplate the
sacrifice made by the Lord Jesus Christ, the atonement has two
aspects: —one, as it shows a sinner that God is willing to
pardon; the other, as it removes the obstacles in the way of
pardon.
The former of these points was then considered.  I showed, (1,)
that it is the expression of mere benevolence-guilty man having
no claim to any such interposition; (2,) that it is the highest
proof of benevolence which God could furnish; and, (3,) that it
is benevolence shown to the whole race, and that, therefore, any
and every sinner is firee to avail himself of all the benefits of it.
I proceed now to consider the atonement in the other aspect
mentioned, as removing the obstacles to pardon. It is important
to our purpose to keep in remembrance this point, that we are
considering the case of a sinner conscious of guilt and danger,
and inquiring whether he may be pardoned and saved.  Such a
man wishes the assurance that he may be forgiven; he desires
to understand how it is that the atonement avails to secure his
pardon.  He wishes to know that God is willing to forgive; he




220              THE WAY OF SALVATION.
wishes to see how it is consistent for a God of truth and justice
to do it.  The former inquiry is answered by the fact of the gift
of a Saviour, and by the Divine invitations; the latter is the
point that now presents itself for our consideration.
In this inquiry there are two points:-I. What are the hindrances to the pardon of a sinner? and, II. How does the atonement remove those hindrances, and give peace to the mind of the
guilty?
I. The first inquiry is, What are the hindrances to the pcardon
of a sinner?
I have already, in the former discourses, said enough to show
you that those hindrances, whatever they may be, do not consist of any unwillingness on the part of God to pardon the
guilty; and that, whatever may be the effect of an atonement,
it is not intended to change God; or to make him a different
Being from what he was before; or to buy him  over to mercy;
or to make a Being-before stern, inexorable, and unforgivingmild, gentle, merciful, and kind. If any such ideas were involved
in the atonement, I do not see how it would be possible for the
human mind to embrace it.
Laying all such ideas out of view in contemplating the atonement, I will proceed, in as plain and simple a manner as is
possible, to state what are the real hindrances to the pardon of
a sinner.
They are such as arise from the nature of moral government,
and are found under all forms of administration. In all governments there are great difficulties in regard to pardon, and more
embarrassment is felt in adjusting it aright, than perhaps on
any other subject.  It is supposed, indeed, in all governments
but those of tyrants, that there would be cases where pardon
would be desirable; where the law, if suffered to take its course,
would seem to be severe; where the real welfare of the community would be promoted, as well as the promptings of humanity
obeyed, by extending forgiveness to the guilty; and where it
would be desirable to leave a discretionary power on this subject to the executive officer of the government-to the sovereign
power whose law has been violated. But it has never been
found practicable to adjust this satisfactorily under any human
administration, or to free the subject from difficulties.
The difficulties in the case-and in stating these, I am stating
what exist under all forms of government, parental, civil, and
Divine-are such as I will now refer to. (1.) One is, where
pardon is never exercised; where it is a settled and unchanging
maxim of the law, that no offender, under any circumstances, is




THE ATONEMENT AS IT REMOVES OBSTACLES.   221
ever to be forgiven.  This might be, although I am  ignorant
that even under the darkest forms of tyranny any such principle
has been avowed as the settled maxim of the administration,
however it may have been practically acted on by some, as under
the government of Draco, or under some forms of Oriental despotism, or by the Papal communion in the times of the Inquisition..3ut still it is conceivable that it might be, and such a government, without any mixture of the element of benevolence,
would be severely and sternly and wholly just.  But almost any
form of tyranny would be less dreadful than this; for justice
would establish its dominion at the expense of some of the finest
feelings of our nature, and violate some of the plainest dictates
of our moral being. There are cases, even cases of undoubted
violation of law, where pardon is desirable; where all the benevolent feelings of a community would be gratified by forgiveness; and where all the tender feelings of humanity would be
outraged if pardon were never extended. In the case of a single
individual offender in Great Britain, thirty thousand signatures
were easily obtained asking for the pardon of a man who had,
in a single case, committed an offence against the laws of the
land: in all communities there are cases in which the purest
and best citizens are willing to unite in such petitions. All communities, as already remarked, entrust a pardoning power to
the executive or the judges. As human nature now is, no man
would wish to live under a government where it was an assumed
principle that pardon was never to be extended to the guilty;
no man would contribute his influence to organize a government
under which no guilty person might ever hope to be forgiven.
This difficulty is one that would arise under a government that
was severely and sternly just.  (2.) A difficulty not less, but of
an opposite character, would exist if it were an admitted principle that all the guilty were to be pardoned; that every offender
against the laws was to be forgiven, and was to be permitted
to go at large.  This too might be; but all can imagine what
would be the effect of such an administration. This, not less
than the former, would violate deep principles of our nature;
this, more than that, would endanger the welfare of a community. For, if there are principles in our nature which would
make it desirable that some should be pardoned, there are principles which demand that some shall be punished. If all were
pardoned, if all the guilty were suffered to go at large, what
man's property would be safe-what man's reputation-what
man's life?  What would be the condition of things in this or
in any community, if all jails and penitentiaries were thrown




222               TTIE  WAY OF SALVATION.
open, and. if all convicted and unconvicted felons were sent forth
upon the community?  Who would lie down calmly at night?
Who would not gather up his property and flee from  such a
land? Law would be a bugbear; and every form of crime would
be committed under the sanction of a spurious and wretched
benevolence.  This difficulty would arise if justice were never
executed, and all the guilty were pardoned: and as a case has
never occurred where it was an assumed maxim that none were
to be pardoned, so in our world the case of a government has
never occurred where it was an assumed maxim that pardon is
to be extended indiscriminately to all. Yet, (3), there is another
difficulty still. It is this: pardon in all cases does so much,
even under the best arrangements that governments can make,
to weaken the strong arm of the law. The influence in every
case where it can be exercised is to lessen the moral power of
the law; to diminish the public respect for its sanctions; to make
offenders cease to dread the punishment which it threatens; and
in general to produce a want of respect for the law in a community. It is of the nature of a public proclamation that crime
may be committed in some cases with impunity; and as the cases
are not specified, and as no one is excluded, the practical effect
must be that each offender, whatever crime he may commit, will
feel that he may be among the number of those who will escape
the infliction of the penalty.  Two things operate widely in
every community to induce men to feel that the laws may be
violated, and that crimes may be committed without the danger
of punishment:-one is, the hope that so generally prevails
among that class of men, that they will escape detection; the
other,-a feeling, perhaps, as effective in producing conscious
security,-is the hope that, if the crime is brought home to them,
they may be pardoned.
What is needed in the case is, some arrangement that shall
prevent this effect, and yet make pardon practicable and proper;
that is, something that shall do honour to the decisions of the
law, and that shall at the same time meet the promptings of
benevolence; in other words, that shall secure respect for the
law and the government, and yet shall make it consistent, practicable, and safe, to pardon an offender. This effect will be
secured if the sanctions of the law-considered as designed to
express the views of the lawgiver as to the evil of the offence,
or as designed to restrain from sin, or as designed to reform
offenders, or as calculated to subserve any other purpose contemplated by the infliction of penalty-can be secured, while at the
same time the government is free to indulge the promptings of




THE ATONEMENT AS IT REMOVES OBSTACLES.  223
humanity, and to release an acknowledged offender from  the
infliction of the penalty. These objects, so different in their
nature, have never been blended in a human administration. As
the one or the other has prevailed, government has manifested a
character either of severity or weakness;. of tyranny or feebleness;
of blood, like that of Draco, or of imbecility, where there is
neither respect for the law, dread of punishment, nor restraint on
crime.
In all human governments hitherto-and what has been true
heretofore in this respect will be true to the end of time-there
have been substantially but two cases in which the executive is
entrusted with the power of pardon.  The one is, where the
sentence of the law  may be regarded as too severe; that is,
where, to use the words of Blackstone in reference to the provisions of a court of equity-' Since in laws all cases cannot
be foreseen or expressed, it is necessary that when the general
decrees of the law come to be applied to particular cases, there
should be somewhere a power vested of defining those circumstances, which, had they been foreseen, the legislator himself
would have expressed." —Con. i. 62.  Such cases occur under
all forms of human government, and under the best administration of the laws, for there are mitigating circumstances
which could not have been foreseen in framing the laws; and as
law is general in its nature, and not framed with reference to
particular cases, the well-known maxim of the law, Summum jeus
summa injuria est, is often illustrated in the actual administration of justice. There is a propriety, therefore, that a power of
remitting the penalty-improperly called a pardoning powershould be lodged in the hands of the executive in a state. And yet
it is to be observed that this is not, in any proper sense of the word,
pardon.  It is simply a declaration, made under the authority
of law, that the sentence in the case was too severe; that the
penalty appointed should not be inflicted; that, in fact, no such
crime as that of which the alleged offender has been convicted
has been committed; and that of right he ought to be discharged.
It might be true that some offence has been committed, and that
it would have been right to have inflicted a lighter penalty, but
the so-called act of pardon in this case is a proclamation that
this penalty has not been deserved, and therefore it is clear that
there has been no act of pardon as such. It is simply an acknowledgment of the imperfection of the best forms of human administration, and an act at the same time setting the government
right, and the alleged offender right, before the community.
Whatever honour is done to the law in the case is not in con



224             THE WAY OF SALVATION.
nexion with pardon, but it is a declaration that the law las
made arrangements, so far as practicable, by which undeserved
penalties shall not be inflicted.
The only other case of pardon in a human government occurs
where an undoubted c:ime has been committed; where the
offender has been tried, convicted, and sentenced; where it
would be right to inflict the penalty of the law, and where,
notwithstanding  this, the law  has entrusted the exercise of
pardon to the discretion of the executive.  Such cases, it must
be admitted, often occur. Men of acknowledged guilt, after
conviction as the result of a full and fair trial, and long before
the term of sentence expires, are discharged from  prison and
turned upon the community practically unpunished according
to the just notion of the law, and without the slightest evidence
that the punishment, as far as inflicted, has had any reforming
power. Nothing is done to prevent the effects of pardon noticed
before; nothing is done, so far as the pardon is concerned, to
maintain the authority of law; nothing is done to reform the
offender; nothing is done to deter others from the commission
of a similar offence. It is simply a proclamation that crime
may be committed with impunity.  To whatever it may be
traced, whether to the weakness of the executive, or to the
prevalent sentiments in a community demanding the frequent
exercise of pardon; or to what may be regarded as the promptings of humanity or benevolence; or to a weakened sense of
justice-to a feeling that punishment is essential tyranny, and
that all punishment is a violation of the dictates of humanity —
it is, in fact, a public proclamation that crime may be committed
without the dread of punishment-a practical relaxation of all
laws, and a practical invitation to all men to commit the crimes
to which their passions or their supposed interests may prompt.
In all the devices of human wisdom; in all the forms of
administration originated by man; in all the history of the
world hitherto, it has never been found practicable to introduce
an arrangement like that which is contemplated by the atonement. In no court of justice has such an arrangement ever been
attempted, and no legislator has introduced it into the administration of the laws.  Sensible as legislators and judges have
been of the defects in the administration of law just noticed,
they have never attempted, as a fixed and permanent arrangement, to introduce a device like that of the atonement. A debt
may indeed be paid, and the obligation will be discharged; but
no provision has been made by which respect may be shown to
the penalty of law, and yet pardon be extended to acknowledged




THE ATONEMENT AS IT REMOVES OBSTACLES.  225
offenders.  Whether it has been that legislators have been
insensible to the evils now adverted to; or whether they have
been disposed to make an experiment to see whether those evils
might not be avoided; or whether they have despaired of finding
any means by which due honour may be done to the law while
the guilty man is acquitted, it is not material now to inquire.
The fact is undoubted. No such arrangement has ever been
made. History furnishes no traces of such a provision, and no
court of justice has ever resorted to it in the administration of
law. No.one has been appointed, as a permanent legal arrangement, to suffer in the place of another; nowhere does law contemplate the acceptance of substituted sufferings in the place of
those incurred by the guilty. The only things done by a human
government in the case are the two already referred to: to wit,
where an offender is pardoned, as it is termed, because the
sentence was too severe; and where one guilty of undoubted
crime, and deserving the infliction of the penalty, is discharged
without any attempt to maintain the authority of law.
Now it is clear that in the Divine administration pardon can
never be extended in either of these forms. It cannot be supposed that in an act of pardon the all-wise Legislator would
practically acknowledge that the sentence of the law was too
severe-that is, that it was unjust,-and that the offender
would be discharged on that ground; nor can it be supposed
that an acknowledged offender would be acquitted without any
respect shown to the law, or any arrangement to prevent the
effects on the individual himself, or on the community, of
acquitting the offender. It cannot be supposed that God would
make' either a practical proclamation that his own law was stern
and severe, and that its penalty ought not to be inflicted; nor
can it be supposed that he would make a practical proclamation
that his law is to be disregarded in his own mode of administering it, and that it may become an understood maxim  that
crime may be committed under his administration with impunity.
To suppose this would be to charge on the Divine administration
all that has been found to be weak, defective, inefficient, if not
partial, in human governments. Whether we may be able or not
to see how this difficulty is met, and how these evils are prevented, we may be certain that in a perfect government the
difficulties will be met, and that some arrangement will be
devised by which the evils may be prevented. This leads us,
II. In the second place, to inquire, How the atonement meets
the dfficulties referred to-or how it removes the hindrances to
the pardon of a sinner.




226              THE WAY OF SALVATION.
This inquiry is practically whether the atonement so meets
the claims of justice, or so evinces respect to the law, that the
great ends of moral government can be secured when the penalty
is remitted, or when the sinner is pardoned.  If these ends can
be secured, it is clear that the offender may with propriety be
pardoned; and clear also, that, if this is done, his agitated and
troubled mind may be at peace.  If by the atonement God can
as certainly and as fully evince his hatred of sin, and his respect
for law, and prevent the evil effects of sin, as he could by the
punishment of the sinner himself, then it is plain that the great
purposes contemplated by the law and by the appointment of a
penalty are accomplished.  There are, then, in connexion with
this, two subordinate inquiries:-What is shown by punishment?
and, Can this be shown by the atonement?
(a) What, then, is shown by punishment?  What is contemplated by the appointment of penalty? What, in respect to moral
government, is secured when the penalty of law is inflicted? In
what light does it represent the lawgiver, and what light does it
throw  on his purpose in appointing the penalty?  To these
inquiries the brief and obvious answer is, that the penalty cffixed
to a law expresses the view of the lawgiver in respect to the evil of
the ofence.  So far as it is penalty, its design is to convey that
idea, and nothing else.  It is simply the measure of his estimate
of the nature and desert of the crime.  The penalty must be
appointed, moreover, by the lawgiver himself, and must express
his sense of the nature and desert of the act of transgression.
No one can control him in this; no one can properly estimate
the justice of the penalty, unless he is able to comprehend the
nature and tendency of the offence as truly as the lawgiver
himself; and no creature therefore, in respect to the Divine
administration, can possess the qualifications which may be
requisite to judge of the propriety of the penalty affixed to law.
Much indeed of the design and the effect of punishment may be
seen, but there may be depths in regard to it which no created
intellect can as yet fathom, and there may be collateral purposes
to be accomplished by it which a creature cannot comprehend.
The main and central idea however is, that it shows the sense
of the lawgiver in respect to the evil of transgression.  It is an
illustration and a declaration of the view which he takes of it
from  the stand-point which he occupies as the head of the
government, or as presiding over the interests of those who are
subject to his administration.  The security that the penalty
will be just and equal-that it will not be severe or partialthat it will be commensurate merely with the desert of the




THE ATONEMENT AS IT REMOVES OBSTACLES.  227
offence-that it will not be too intense in degree, or too prolonged in duration-is to be found, not in any control which the
subject of the law has over it, but solely in the wisdom, the
equity, and the benevolence of him who appoints it. It is plain
that if the view thus entertained of the evil of transgression
can be evinced either by the sufferings of the offender himself,
or by anything substituted in the place of those sufferings
that shall convey the same practical impression, the great
ends of penalty will be accomplished, and the infliction of
the penalty on the offender himself may in the latter case be
remitted.
(b) This leads, then, to the only remaining inquiry, whether
the evil of sin as designed to be expressed by the penalty of the
law can be so evinced by the substituted sufferings of another, or
by the atonement, that in respect to the offender himself penalty
may be properly remitted; and so remitted that he himself can
feel that the same testimony has been borne to the value of law,
and to the evil of sin, which would have been furnished by his
own personal sufferings.  In other words, is it practicable or
possible for an offender troubled with the remembrance of
personal guilt, and realizing that he is justly exposed to the
penalty of a broken law, to feel the same calmness and composure,
or the same freedom from apprehended punishment, which he
would have felt if it had been possible for him to bear the
penalty himself, or which he would if the offence had never
been committed?  If sin were a debt in the literal sense, it is
easy to see how this effect might follow;-for it is conceivable
that a debt might be so paid by another as to meet all the
claims of justice, or to discharge the entire pecuniary responsibility, so that the debtor himself would feel that there was no
claim of the law upon him, and so that there would be created
in his bosom the highest sense of obligation to him who had
interposed to relieve him of a claim which he was unable to
meet. It is to be admitted, however, that sin is not precisely of
the nature of a debt; and it is to be admitted that there must
be other elements in an atonement than those which are involved
in the payment of a debt. Can the great end contemplated by
the appointment of a penalty, or by the infliction of punishment
-to wit, the expression of the Divine view of the evil of sin-be
so accomplished by the substituted sufferings, that I, a guilty
man-a helpless sinner-an acknowledged violator of law-one
feeling that he deserves the infliction of such a penalty as the
Lawgiver shall judge to be necessary for the maintenance of
moral government-can feel that the great purpose of penalty in




228              THE WAY OF SALVATION.
respect to me has been accomplished, and that I may now be
properly treated as if I had not offended?
As this inquiry pertains to the very essence of the Christian
scheme, as it bears on the feelings of the guilty, and relates to a
question which must always occur to the mind of the guilty, it
is proper to refer to a few facts and principles which may tend
to illustrate and answer it.
(1.) As a matter of fact, under the Divine administration, the
evil of sin or crime is perhaps more frequently seen by the effects
produced on those who are innocent than by any direct and
immediate effect on the guilty themselves.  It is somehow  a
great principle under the Divine government, that the effects of
our conduct often pass over from the offender himself to those
who are associated with him; and that when we undertake to
estimate the evil of the offence, or to obtain a just measzure of
the crime, we more naturally look to those effects than to anything which has as yet occurred to the offender himself. Nay,
the mind of the offender himself may be more deeply affected as
to the evil of the crime committed by the sufferings which he
perceives that his conduct has caused to others than by any pain
or privation which he himself has endured.  Society is full of
instances of this kind, and perhaps in the case of a large portion
of the crimes committed in a community, the actual amount of
suffering endured by the offender himself is small, if it might
not even be said to be trifling, as compared with the sufferings
which the offence has brought on others. The man who suffers
in a penitentiary, solitary and alone, perhaps learns to bear the
punishment inflicted with patience, or sinks into insensibility or
stupidity, or invents some mitigation of his own sufferings; but
while thus insensible comparatively to the effects of his own
crime, and to the evil of the offence, his conduct may have
brought the grey hairs of a father or a mother to the grave, or
the sorrows of a broken-hearted wife, sister, or daughter, may be
the public testimony to the evil of the offence, and may do more
to impress a sense of that evil on the community than all that
he endures in the loneliness and forgetfulness of his dungeon.
Now, if we suppose that it had been designed beforehand to
make an arrangement which would most deeply impress upon
the community the evil of the offence committed, we should say
that apparently the design was to show that evil to the largest
extent by the collateral and incidental sufferings that would
come on the innocent. The point now is not to inquire into the
reason of this arrangement, or to show its justice; but simply to
advert to the fact that the evil of transgression may be seen in a




THE ATONEMENT AS IT REMOVES OBSTACLES.    229
very high degree, and so as possibly to affect the mind of the
offender himself by the sufferings which a certain course of
conduct would bring on the innocent. If we suppose that those
sufferings were in any sense voluntarily assumed, the principle
would not be varied; for still the whole effect mq/it be in some
way to illustrate'the evil of the offence, or to divide with the
offender the sufferings produced by his crime.
(2.) The great doctrine of the Christian atonement is, not that
there was any natural connexion between the sinner and the
Redeemer; not that, as in the case above supposed, the consequences of the sinner's offence passed over by any natural law
to the Saviour, so as to involve him in poverty, pain, and death,
but that by a voluntary arrangement he was willing so to take
the place of the offender that, as in the case of natural relationship, the evil effect of transgression should be illustrated, and
the Divine sense of the nature of sin should be manifested by
his sufferings as if they had been endured by the sinner himself.
In other words, such an amount of suffering was appointed, and
was submitted to, as would to the sinner himself, and to the
universe at large, be a just measure of the Divine sense of the
evil of transgression, and in this respect accomplish the same
effect as if the sinner had himself endured the penalty of
the law.
(3.) In the work of the atonement as viewed by the sinner
under conviction for sin, looking at the Redeemer as suffering
in his stead, the great idea which is presented to his mind is
still that which is manifest in the personal sufferings produced
by sins, and in the voluntary or involuntary sufferings endured
by others on our account-to wit, the connexion between sin and
suffering. It is seen there, as elsewhere, that the only cause of
suffering is sin.  The Redeemer suffered from  no other cause.
There was no other conceivable reason why he should suffer.
There is no statement made-no intimation whatever-that he
did suffer from any other cause. No reason can be given, drawn
from any views of the Divine government which we can obtain,
why the sufferings of the garden and the cross came upon him,
unless it was from some connexion with sin. Without such a
connexion, and without some design of evincing the nature of
sin by his sufferings, it would be impossible to vindicate the
Divine character in permitting these sufferings to come upon
the only Being in our world who has been in all respects perfectly innocent.  The Scripture statement, moreover, everywhere
is, that he deid thus suffer on account of sin:-that he " died the
just for the unjust;" that he was the " propitiation for our sins;"




230              THE WAY OF SALVATION.
that " the chastisement of our peace was upon him;" that " the
Lord laid on him the iniquity of us all;" that "by his stripes
we are healed;" and that "he died for our offences, and was
raised for our justification." The point of the remark now made
is, that this may be so perceived by the mind itself to be the
design of the Saviour's sufferings, that one who is conscious of
guilt may see that in those sufferings there has been a real expression of a Divine sense of the evil of sin, intentionally made,
an expression as real, though it may not be in the same form,
as if the sinner himself had endured the same sufferings as a
part of the penalty of the law.
(4.) One other remark only it seems necessary to make to
complete the statement of the effect produced by the atonement
in giving peace to a mind troubled with the consciousness of
sin: it is, that the sufferings endured by the Redeemer in the
place of the sinner are fitted to make a deeper impression on
the universe at large than would be produced by the punishment of the sinner himself. If a sinner is lost, he is so in more
senses than one;-lost not only to hope and happiness, but also
in the sense that his individual sufferings may make little, if any,
impression on the universe at large. He has in himself no such
rank, or dignity, or exaltation, and he sustains no such relations,
as to attract attention beyond a very limited sphere. The caggregate
sufferings of the guilty may, indeed, make a deep and wide impression; but the sufferings of an individual must be limited in
the sphere of their influence, and the moral effect will be comparatively unfelt. Few of all the creatures that God has made
will be aware of his suffering, and even on those few the impression produced will be comparatively slight. None of these remarks, however, apply to the sufferings of the Redeemer, considered as endured in the place of sinners.  His exalted dignity
as the Son of God; the adoration paid him by the angelic hosts;
his rank and office as Mediator; the changes that may have
been produced in heaven by his incarnation; his poverty and
lowliness of estate on earth; his life of weariness and toil; and
pre-eminently his sufferings on the cross, were all fitted to attract
the attention of the universe at large, and to produce a deep
impression on distant worlds.  Far as those wonderful events
were known,-and if he was, indeed, the incarnate Deity, they
would be known throughout all worlds, —the inquiry must have
occurred, why he stooped to so low a condition; why he endured
so many sufferings in his life; and why, as a malefactor, and
between malefactors, he died on a cross.  Whether the design
of that death was known to other worlds at the time it occurred,




THE ATONEMENT AS IT REMOVES OBSTACLES.  231
cannot indeed now be ascertained; but it will be ultimately
known that it was intended to express, to the utmost degree
possible, the Divine sense of the evil of sin-the very object
which would be accomplished by the punishment of the sinner
himself. Throughout the universe, therefore, an impression would
be made by the atonement of the evil of sin, more deep and
lasting than would be produced by the natural course of the
administration of justice; and if that impression is secured, it is
clear that every obstacle to the pardon of the sinner is removed,
and that he may be forgiven without any of the incidental evils
against which it has been impossible to guard in the exercise of
pardon by human governments.
If this is so, the troubled conscience may have peace. All has
been done that can be done to show the evil of transgression,
and to prevent the consequences which would flow from the exercise of pardon were it granted without an atonement. All has
been done that needs to be done to express the Divine sense of
the value of law, of the ill-desert of transgression, and of the
magnitude of an offence against the government of God. God
has shown that while he pardons he is not indifferent to the
claims of his own law, and that while he " justifies the ungodly,"
he has a supreme regard for truth and holiness, and will maintain the interests of justice at all times, and at every sacrifice.
The pardoned sinner, therefore, may have peace. He is not only
assured of pardon, but he is assured that it is extended in such
a way that the honour of God is maintained, and the great
interests of the universe secured.  He can see that the obstacles
which existed to the exercise of pardon have been wholly removed, and removed in such a way that every interest of justice
is safe. Sunken, degraded, and lost as he is; conscious of deep
depravity and of ill-desert; feeling that his appropriate place
would be with the lost; and feeling too-for that can never be
forgotten-that he will always retain the recollection of his
having been a violator of law, and that he can occupy only a
very humble place before the throne,-yet he may feel also that
God is glorified by his salvation, and every attribute of the
Deity illustrated and magnified by his admission into heaven.
He enjoys the favour of God, not because God disregards law,
but even while he shows his respect for it, and magnifies it.
He becomes an heir of glory, not by any favouritism  that is
regardless of justice and of the rights of others, but while the
rights of others are as much respected as his own, and while
they are rendered still more secure by the method of his own
salvation. He enters heaven over no prostrate law; he dwells
16




232              THE WAY OF SALVATTON.
there not in defiance of the claims of justice; he wears a crown
of glory not tarnished by the conviction that it is bestowed
in violation of right; but while associated for ever with unfallen beings, with the angels that have not left " their first
estate,"-he feels that he is there in virtue of a righteousness
not less glorious than theirs, for it is the righteousness of the
Son of God. The atonement has thus removed the obstacles
to the way of pardon; the agitations of guilt in the soul die
away; light, hope, and joy break in upon the mind, and the
sinner finds peace.




SEiRON XVIII.
TIE NECESSITY OF REGENERATION.
JOHN iii. 3.-" Except a man be born again, he cannot see the lingdom
of God."
I PROPOSE, from this verse, to show the necessity of regeneration, or the new birth.  The only introductory remark which
it is necessary to make before we enter on the argument is,
that the Saviour in the text asserts, with great earnestness and
emphasis, that the new birth is indispensable for every one who
would enter into his kingdom: —" Verily, verily, I say unto
thee, Except a man"-in the Greek, any one —" be born again,
he cannot enter into the kingdom of God."  My argument will
be directed solely to this point, that it is necessary for every one
to be renewed, or regenerated, in order to be saved.
With reference to this argument, mankind may be conveniently
divided into two great classes. The line, perhaps, may not be
in all respects very definite, and there may be a middle region
of character of considerable extent such as to leave us in doubt
where to place many individuals; but it is sufficiently definite
for our present purpose, and will not lead us into error in the
argument.  The two  classes are these: —First. The openly
wicked, abandoned, sensual, scoffing, profane.  Secondly. The
moral, the amiable, the upright, the sincere, the accomplished.
The former are commonly designated as vicious; the latter as
virtuous.  The former are destitute of virtue and religion together; the latter lay claim  to virtue without religion.  The
former attempt no divorce between virtue and piety, but abjure
both together; the latter attempt a divorce, and seek to hold
the one without the other. The former are willing to be excluded
from  good society on earth as well as from heaven; the latter
mean to retain their rank in the goodly fellowship of this world,
whatever may be the fact about their admission into heaven.
The former take a decided stand against religion and all its
appearances and pretensions; the latter desire to occupy a position somewhere on the confines of religion-and if they have
not Christian piety, they intend to have something that they
hope w'Aill, on the whole, answer just as well in the future world.




234             THE WAY OF SALVATION.
Now the difficulty in regard to the subject before us is not at
all in reference to the former of these classes. It will be conceded on all hands that it is necessary that they should be renewed
in order to enter into the kingdom of heaven. Had the Saviour
so modified his declaration, affirming the necessity of the new birth,
as to have embraced only that portion of mankind, scarcely any
doctrine would have met with more favour. The only embarrassment in the case has arisen from the fact that he so shaped his
remark as to include Nicodemus and all that class of men under
it, so as to make it just as necessary for them to be born again
as for the openly abandoned and profane. It is a difficulty
arising from the fact that in one respect-not in all respects —
he has put them  on a level, and affirmed that, whatever else
might occur, they would be alike excluded from  the kingdom
of God unless they were "born of water and of the Spirit."
Leaving the former of these classes, therefore, at present out of
view, as those about whom there can be no debate, and as not
probably among those who may read these pages, I shall direct
your thoughts entirely to the question about the latter classthe amiable, the moral, the upright.  The subject will have
then this advantage at least, that it is one that pertains to your
own case, and is one in which you will feel yourselves personally
concerned.
It falls in with my design, and with my convictions also, to
concede to you all that you would claim on the score of morality,
amiableness, courtesy, and kindness. Of these virtues you could
mention none which my argument would not allow me to concede; of none who might set up the claim would I be disposed
to call it in question. I do not see that the Redeemer was
disposed to deny the existence of these virtues in Nicodemus;
I am certain he did not in the young man who came to him and
told him that he had kept all the commandments from his youth
up, and whom the Saviour told that he lacked but one thing in
order to be perfect, and whom he " loved," Mark x. 21.  Yet
here lies the solemn declaration of the Saviour in our path,
affecting alike the case of Nicodemus, and the amiable young
man, and all who are like them: —" Except any one be born
again, he cannot see the kingdom of God."  Why did he make
such a declaration?  On what was it based? What were the
views of man which lay in the Redeemer's soul that justified
this remark? We may not be able exactly to answer these
questions, but we may state some considerations which show
that the declaration is true, or that there are reasons why it
was made. To that task I now proceed.




THE NECESSITY OF REGENERATION.                 235
I. The first consideration which I state is, that the heart by?
nature, or when unrenewed, is not in a prop2er state for the employments and enjoyments of heaven. I speak now of the human
heart as such, without any special reference to the openly
wicked and profane. I speak of the unrenewed heart in its
best state, and under the best discipline and cultivation. I
speak of it where there may be all the charms of accomplishment; all the beauties of native amiableness; all the courtesy
of refined breeding; all that is attractive and valuable in unsuspected virtue.
There are two sources of evidence in regard to this:-the
Bible and your own consciousness.
The testimony of the Bible is so clear that no one, I presume,
will be disposed to doubt it, and this point need not detain us
long. That testimony bears directly on the point before us, that
the human heart, as such, is evil, and must be renewed if man.would be saved. Thus it is said, " The heart is deceitful above
all things, and desperately wicked," Jer. xvii. 9. That is, the
heart of man, as such, without reference to any particular class
or condition of men. The fair meaning is, that wherever there
is a human heart it has this characteristic-that it is a deceitful
heart-more deceitful than all things else in a world full of
deceit; and that it has within it the elements of desperate
wickedness. The same account of the universal depravity of
the human heart is given in Gen. viii. 21: " The imagination of
man's heart is evil from his youth." This appears also in the
form of an universal declaration. It is not that the profligate
race which had been just swept away by the deluge was evil,
but it is that the heart of man, as such, is evil from his youth.
As these positive declarations settle the question so far as
the Bible is concerned, I turn to the other source of evidence in
the case-the consciousness of the heart itself. And as the form
of direct address will better fall in with the nature of the argument which I wish to urge, you will permit me with plainness
to use this form. The argument relates to the following points:
(1.) You are conscious that you have no vital religion; nothing
that can be properly called religion. You do not even pretend
or profess to have it. You would not consider it a reflection on
you at all to have it said that you made no profession of piety,
as you would to have it said that you do not profess to be
influenced by the laws of honour or honesty. And in your
life there is nothing that can be fairly interpreted as showing
that you have real religion.  You do not truly pray; you do
not habitually read the Bible; you do not cherish love to God;




236              TIHE WAY OF $ALVATIONT
you do not depend on his mercy for salvation; you do not
identify yourselves with religious persons.  You claim  to be
moral, upright, faithful to your engagements, kind, courteous;
but in your own heart and wishes and intentions you do not
claim  to be religious men.  Possibly you may say that all
this is unkind and uncharitable. But I see not how it is so.
I will concede all that you claim. I will yield all that you
ask on the score of morality. I will even go farther than
you will. I will yield to a man the claim to be a religious
man when he professes to be, even when appearances are much
against him-for I am not ignorant how much I must need the
exercise of that charity " which suffereth long and is kind;" and
I believe that there may be true piety where there is much
imperfection, and if you make any profession of godliness I will
extend the same charity to you. But I have not so read the
New Testament, or so learned the character of Christ, or been
so taught by any of the rules of urbanity, as to ascribe to a
~man what he does not himself profess to have; as to go with
kind-heartedness beyond what he habitually lays claim to, and
to attribute to him what never constituted a part of his own
profession. Every man has a right to choose and " define his
own position," and to make his own professions; and for myself,
I ask no man, either from charity or justice, to attribute to me
opinions and sentiments which I do not profess to have.  In
the same way I shall continue to judge of my neighbour, and
shall conclude that I am doing him no injustice in supposing
that he has no spiritual life when he asserts no claim to have
any, whatever I may think about those who profess to be influenced
by it.
(2.) Another consideration is, that every man is conscious that
there is much in his heart that is opposed to God and to religion.
The depths of depravity indeed in his soul may not have been
explored; there may have been no outbreaking wickedness to
overwhelm his name and family in disgrace; he may have been
neither a scoffer nor an open infidel; and in fact he may never
have recorded one sentence in the most confidential letter to a
friend, or given utterance to one remark, in the most familiar
intercourse, opposed to religion; yet no man can reach a mature
period of life without knowing that there is much in his heart
that is opposed to God and to religion. Many of the doctrines
of religion are unpalatable to the natural heart. Its more
spiritual duties are onerous and irksome. Its restraints seem
like a violation of freedom. The law of God is laid across the
path at times and in a manner that chafes the feelings, and




THE NECESSITY  OF REGIENERATION.                 237
disturbs the plans of life.  The claims, rebukes, threatenings,
and penalties of both law and gospel are galling and unpleasant
to the soul. There is much in the character and government of
God that seems to such a man to be not only mysterious, but
wrong.  In his afflictions, disappointments, and blighted hopes,
he has been conscious of murmuring thoughts, and has been
obliged to exercise restraint lest they should find their way to
his lips.  He cannot but be conscious that when  God has
directed him to love him  supremely, he has not done it; when
he has required him  to form  his' plans with reference to his
glory, he has formed them with reference to ease, pleasure, gain,
or ambition; when he has called on him  to repent, he has
remained impenitent; when he has commanded him to believe,
he has continued unbelieving; and when he has counselled him
to pray, he has restrained prayer.  He cannot but be conscious
that he has given indulgence to a roving imagination; that he
has delighted to dwell, in his recollections of the past, on the
objects fitted to debase and corrupt him; and that he has formed
many a plan, and cherished many a wish, on which a pure
Being could look only with a frown of indignation. And he
cannot but be conscious that he has never found that pleasure in
religion of which the Bible speaks, and which Christians declare
that they enjoy; and that in the course of his life there has
never been one whole day, or one whole hour, in which the
mind would have found enjoyment in religion.  His mind and
heart are not in the course of things which God wishes, and
which God is carrying  forward.  Hear what one says who
knew:
"Our life is a false nature —'tis not in
The harmony of things,-this hard decree,
This uneradicable taint of sin,
This boundless upas, this all-blasting tree,
Whose root is earth, whose leaves and branches be
The skies which rain their plagues on men like dewDisease, death, bondage-all the woes we seeAnd worse, the woes we see not-which throb througn
The unmedicable soul, with heart-aches ever new."
Chilce farold, iv. 126.
(3.) The next remark is, that such a heart is not fitted for the
employments and enjoyments of heaven unless it is changed.
This is evident, unless the joys and employments of heaven consist in the mere prolongation of the pleasures and business of
this life. If commerce, and manufactures, and merchandize, and
agriculture were to be the business there, we do not see but they




238              THE WAY OF SALVATION.
might be happy. If men were to contend there in the forum;
if on their lips " listening senates" were to hang; if the pursuits
of science were to give employment to the mind; if under the
chisel the marble were to breathe, or under the brush the canvas
be filled with forms of life; or if pleasure were to open new
parks and gardens and banqueting halls, we admit that the
unrenewed mind might find happiness in heaven. But we have
only one account of heaven that is worth regarding,-that in
the Bible. And according to that, heaven is not the prolongation of the employments of this life, as dreamed of by the
Swedenborgian; nor a Mohammedan Paradise, where Houries
are created to give infinity of duration to sensual joys; nor the
Elysian fields of poets; nor such abodes as the scientific and the
literary world look for. It is a place of religion; a place of
adoration and holy love; a place of pure and prolonged thanksgiving and praise; a place where the soul is expanded by the
contemplation of religious truth, and where, in his works, God
is adored as " first, and last, and midst, and without end." God is
there. Christ, the holy, incarnate Saviour, is there. Holy angels
are there. The redeemed of all ages and lands are there; and it
is a world of religious beings, and not a world of mere sages, or
philosophers, or poets, or patriots, or of the winning and the
accomplished. And if these things are so, then nothing can be
plainer than the declaration of the Saviour in the text, that,
" Except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of
God."
II. The second general consideration which I urge is, that no
change which man passes through in the present life will fit for
heaven except that produced in regeneration. Men experience
many other changes,-sOme of them  sudden and remarkable,
and some of them extending their influence far into future years,
and even as far as we can follow the dying into the dark valley;
but none of them are changes that fit for heaven. We change
in our habits, views, opinions, employments, hopes, anticipations,
temperament, passions; in the transition from  childhood to
youth, from youth to manhood, from manhood to old age. At
one period, we are blithe, cheerful, merry, playful, thoughtless.
At another, we cherish the generous aspirations of youth, when
the blood is warm in our veins, and the world is full of allurements.  At that time we are generous, open, ardent; full of
life, of energy, of promise; laying large plans, and grasping at
wealth and honours. Then we settle down into the calmness of
sober life; we give place to serious reflection; we allow judgment to preside where passion did; we become less lavish of




THE NECESSITY OF REGENERATION.                239
expenditure, and husband our resources; we feel ourselves pressed
down with the cares of the world, and we give ourselves to the
serious business of living. Then the "sear and yellow leaf"
comes on. The shades grow long, and are chilly. We become
fixed in our opinions; staid in our judgments; unchangeable in
our views. The fires of youth have all gone out. The business
of life has been passed through. We look upon a new generation that has come up with great energy, and is pressing hard
on us to elbow us out of our place, and already wishing us gone,
and coveting our houses and lands.  We settle down into a
contented and honoured old age, and look with satisfaction on
our " children's children, the crown of old men" (Prov. xvii. 6);
or perchance we draw our purse-strings tighter, as we have less
use for what we have wasted life in acquiring, and become
peevish and fretful, and fancy that the world, since it lost our
counsel and influence, is all the while growing worse and worse.
Now one remark which I wish to make is, that in none of
these changes, great as they are, is there any one that of necessity fits for heaven.  The characteristics which come up in
youth no more fit us for heaven than did those of the child; nor
in the transition from youth to manhood, or from manhood to
old age, is there of necessity a change that fits men for heaven.
Not all old men are prepared to enter into the kingdom of God,
any more than those in the days of their youth.  In none of
these changes is there any permanency to reach beyond the
tomb; and if there were, in none of them is there a change to
fit for heaven. The exchange of playfulness and thoughtlessness
for other habits, is not religion; the subjugation of the raging
passions of youth, and the coming on of the settled habits of
manhood, is not of necessity the love of God; nor is the kind of
feeling with which an old man regards the long path which he
has trod, filled with many rough places and hills and valleys,
the deadness to the world which fits a man for heaven.
Another remark which I make in view of these changes is,
that so far from their fitting for heaven, there may be in fact
less inclination for religion in the succeeding change than there
was in the one that went before.'he young man often has less
tenderness of feeling on the subject of religion, than he had
when a child; the man in middle life, than he had when a
youth; thle old man, least of all. The child put his little hands
together every morning and evening, and uttered the language,
" Our Father who art in heaven," and wept freely when his
mother told him of the woes of that kind-hearted Saviour who
died for all. The same child, when he becomes a youth, may be




240              TIHE WAY OF SAIVATION.
a sceptic at heart; in middle life, an avowed infidel; in old age,
a hard-hearted atheist and a scoffer. His advance on the successive stages of life has not been an advance in religion, but a
departure from it; and the bright-eyed and lovely boy, who
commenced life gladdening a father's heart with the hope that
he would be a Christian, ends it with no respect for religion,
and no belief in its Divine authority and claims.
Another remark may be made here respecting the changes
which occur in men's lives. They often change from  vice to
virtue; from gross intemperance to soberness of living; from
profaneness to outward respect for the name of God; from the
love of idle and dissolute companionship to a love for the fellowship of the virtuous and the refined; but there is of necessity no
change here that fits men for heaven. The reformed inebriate
is not necessarily a man who loves God; nor does one who
abandons habits of profligacy of course become a man of prayer.
A man may change his business, his profession, his country, his
dwelling, his friends; but it does not follow that he has passed
through any change that will fit him to dwell with God. He
may subdue many of his evil propensities; may humble much of
his pride; and cease to be a scoffer or a philosophical foe of the
gospel; may forsake his wicked companions, and may become a
supporter of the gospel, and a regular and respectful attendant
in the house of God on the sabbath,-and still be as decidedly
irreligious at heart as he was before. The most decided period
of irreligion in his life may be when all these changes have been
gone through; the most determined hatred to religion ever
expressed in the eye may be in that unnatural and frightful
brilliancy with which it is lighted up when told to believe in
Christ, just before its light is to be extinguished for ever. All
these things are too plain, and too much a matter of common
observation, to make it proper to lengthen out the argument
which they furnish: and if these things are so, then there is but
one change that fits men for heaven; and then nothing can be
more true than the declaration of the Saviour, that " Except a
man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God."
III. The third general consideration which I urge to show
the necessity of regeneration is the fact, that nothing can be
substituted in its place-nothing can be made to answer the same
purpose. If this be so-if it be true that men by nature are not
fitted for heaven, and that none of the numerous changes which
they undergo in the ordinary transitions of life fit them for it,
and that they can substitute nothing in the place of the new
birth that will answer the same purpose,-then it will follow




THE NECESSITY  OF REGENERATION.                241
clearly that there is a necessity that manl should be born again.
Now, that it is so will be apparent on the slightest reflection.
There is one doctrine of substitution, or putting one thing in the
place of another, that is set forth as a true principle in the
government of God, and is that on which the redemption of the
whole world is made to turn:-it is the doctrine of the substituted sufferings of the Redeemer in the place of sinners, and the
fact that our hope of salvation depends on that.  But in the
Scriptures the doctrine of substitution is limited to that, nor is
there an intimation that the principle cal ever be extended.  It
was only the extraordinary necessity of the case that justified
the admission of that one instance into the system; and it was
only the fact that immense and eternal good would accrue from
that one case to unnumbered millions that made it proper. But
the necessity extends no farther.  There is no intimation that
one man can take the place of another; or that a lack of any
one thing required can be compensated by something else which
shall be offered in its stead.  And the scriptural doctrine on
this point is one of common sense. You demand a specific act of
obedience from  a child.  There is no general virtue, and no
other act of obedience which will supply the place of that, if it
is not rendered. You demand love from a friend. If that is
withheld, there is no offering of gold or silver, of wine or oil,
that will supply its place.  A  wife demands constancy and
fidelity in a husband.  If these are not rendered, there is no
diamond-ring —-no string of orient pearls-no richly-set bracelets-no winning smile of professed affection, that can supply
their place.  They are all insult and mockery-an  infinite
aggravation of the offence, when tendered by an unfaithful
man; and what might in other circumstances be tokens of
affection of inestimable value, are now spurned with disdain and
loathing.
God demands the heart —the love, the friendship, the confidence of his creature, man; such love, and friendship, and
affection as are the fruit of a renovated heart.  With such a
renovated heart, what you could render to him would be an
acceptable and a valuable offering. Your moral life and integrity,
based on holy principles, would be acceptable; the homage of
the bended knee, and the song of praise in appropriate forms of
devotion, would be lovely in his view; your acts of fidelity in
the transactions of business and in, the relations of life, as the
expression of love to him, would be pleasing in his sight; your
money, offered in charity to the cause of humanity, would be
received as a grateful tribute at your hands. But suppose you




242             THE WAY OF SALVATION.
go and offer these things without a renovated heart-without
love to him-without having obeyed his first commandment, can
they be a substitute for such a renovated heart? Can a moral
life, and faithfulness in your dealings with mankind, answer the
same purpose as the love which he requires you to render to
himself?  Can the homage of the bended knee, and the song of
praise on the lips, answer the purpose of the offering of the
heart before One who looks through all the chambers of the
soul?  Can wealth hoarded and prized, or scattered among the
needy; can beauty or accomplishment; can a graceful exterior,
a lively wit, a cultivated intellect, and propriety of manners, be
of value to him without the heart, or answer the purpose which
he contemplates by its change? Just as much as diamond rings,
and strings of pearls, answer the place of fidelity and affection
to an outraged and injured wife-and no more. Go and plead
your moral character before God, as a reason why you should be
saved. What would be its reception? " All this would be well,"
might be the response, "but the heart was required; the regenerated affections of the soul were demanded. Where are the
affections of that heart?" Go plead your fidelity to your family;
your kindness as a husband, and father, and neighbour; your
honesty to men. "All this is well. But where is the heart for
me?" the Saviour might reply; " where is the evidence of love to
your God?"  Go plead accomplishment, wit, learning, talent,
beauty:-are these what are required to fit men for heaven?
Are these proposed to be substituted in the place of what is
required?  Be not deceived. Nor rank, nor wealth, nor talent,
nor learning, nor gracefulness of manners, nor eminence in your
profession, nor oratory, nor the crown of victory won on the
battle-field, nor any other thing, can be a substitute for the renovated heart.  They will not answer the same purpose while
men live here; they will not extend their influence to a future
world when they die. A splendid steamer leaves the wharf to
cross the ocean. Youth, and beauty, and rank, crowd on board;
age, and middle age, are there; the high, the low, the rich, the
poor, the bond, the free, the peasant, the prince, are there. She
moves majestically on.   Suddenly she strikes an iceberg, and
in a moment goes down. There is a tremendous plunge; a
heaving of the waves; a boiling, rolling sea for a few moments
where she sank. But it is soon over. The sea is again smooth.
The deep, dark, blue ocean rolls on; and the ruffled deep becomes calm"A glorious mirror, where the Almighty's form
Glasses itself."




THE NECESSITY OF REGENERATION.                  243
But those distinctions of age, and beauty, and rank-where are
they?  Have they attended those who sank, as they went up to
the bar of God? Vanished-all vanished-before the sea was
made calm  where they sank; and alike the prince and the
peasant, the master and his slave, make their bed amidst the
corals of the ocean.  There was but one distinction that lived
on. If there was piety in one heart and wickedness in another,
they lived on. The distinction that survived the catastrophe,
and the only one, was that which was made when the penitent
heart yielded itself to God, and was born again.
IV. I suggest one other thought, which will require no time
to prove or illustrate it: it is, that there will be of necessity no
such change in death as to fit the soul for heaven. And if this
is so; if man by nature is unfit for heaven; if no change which
he ordinarily undergoes fits him  for it; if he can substitute
nothing in the place of a renovated heart to fit him for heaven;
and if death will make no such change as will adapt him to the
employments of the skies,-then it follows that there is a necessity for man to be born again.  And that it is so, assuredly
I need not now attempt to prove. What is the change at death?
The rose of health fades from the cheek; the brow is "chill, and
changeless;" the eye is closed, and in that lifeless form there is
" a mild angelic air,"
"Before decay's effacing fingers
Have swept the lines where beauty lingers."
But there is no religion in that change. At death, we are borne
away indeed from the world where we were tempted; the objects
that with idolatrous affection we loved; the allurements of
wicked companionship; the assembly-room, where, in festive
mirth, we forgot God and provoked his wrath;-but there is no
religion in that. All that is solemn, tender, affecting on the
dying bed may be gone through, and still there be not a particle
of religious emotion there.  And is there some magic powersome potent charm in the grave-in the long slumberings there
-in the solemn stillness-in the withdrawment from  scenes of
gaiety and temptation-to change the heart, to wean the soul
from the world-to pricpa)'e even the body there for the resurrection of the just?  Or is there something in the solemn, lonely
journey of the departed spirit up to God-some new efficacy of
the blood of the atonement to be applied to the soul on its
upward way to fit it for the skies?  Surely none of these things
can be pretended:-and if none of these things are so, then there
is a necessity that the sinner should be born again before he dies.




244              THE WAY OF SALVATION.
The argument which I proposed to submit to you is now
before you. It is not an argument addressed to you as if there
were any doubt about the meaning of what the Saviour says in
the text, or as if his authority were not a sufficient ground for
the truth of a doctrine; or as if the truth of what he says could
be confirmed by any reasonings of mine;-but an argument
designed simply to show that what he says commends itself to
every man's conscience and sober judgment.
The only thought which I would seek to hold before your
minds in the application of this subject is, the indispensable
necessity of this change for every one of you if you would be
saved. Whether it is to be produced by a Divine or human
agency; whether you can effect it yourselves or not; whether
you can by your own efforts contribute to it, or whether those
efforts would be fruitless, are not points which we shall now
discuss; nor is their solution necessary in order that the force
of the considerations suggested should be properly felt. The
single point which is before us now  is, that this change is
indispensable if you would enter into heaven. Every one; every
son and daughter of Adam; every prince and every peasant;
every master and every slave; every profligate and every moral
man; every one who outrages all the laws of decency and
urbanity, and every one who is the charm  and glory of the
social circle, must experience this change, or he cannot enter
into the kingdom of God. He must experience it, unless the
Saviour was wrong in his estimate of the human character, and
has uttered what is not based on truth.  He must experience it,
unless he can show that his heart is such by nature that he is
fitted for the enjoyments and employments of heaven; or unless
some of the transitions through which he passes in life will
answer the purpose; or unless he can substitute something else
for it at the bar of God; or unless there will be some mysterious
process in the grave, or beyond it, by which the body and the
spirit shall be fitted for the skies. The language of the Saviour
to all is, " Ye must be born again. l Reason gives her sanction
to that declaration; conscience echoes it in your ears; and pious
kindred and friends seek to bear it to the heart. Every man
feels and knows it to be true, when he will let conscience speak
out, when he has any just view of his own heart, or when from
a bed of death he looks out on eternity. The solemn declaration
of God our Saviour on this subject, thus seconded by reason and
conscience, is laid across the path of every aged man, of every
one in middle life, of every youth, and of every child. Of the
crowd that you meet in the thronged pathways of a great city,




THE NECESSITY  OF REGENERATION.                245
it is true that no one reaches heaven unless he is born again;
and of the solitary stroller in a summer's eve on the verge of a
babbling stream, or the lonely traveller on the mighty prairie,
it is no less true that unless he be born again he cannot see the
kingdom of God.  It is equally true of each and every one of
you that without this change you will never enter heaven.  The
heart must be changed. The impenitent soul must become con.trite; the proud man must be humbled; the unbelieving must
put his trust in the Son of God. And if the course of argument
now pursued is sound, the subject is one that demands your
immediate attention.  Few days remain in which this change
can occur, and then all will be fixed for ever.  Soon the time
will come in which it will be said of each and all, " He that is
unjust, let him be unjust still; and he that is holy, let him be
holy still."  God grant that before that time-not far distantshall have arrived, each heart may be so changed that it may
convey gladness to the bosom to hear it said that all hereafter
is to be fixed and unchanging. The line once crossed, which
divides time from eternity, all is over for ever; for in the world
of despair no one is ever born again.




SERMON XIX.
THE NATURE OF REGENERATION.
2 Col. v. 17.-" If any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things
are passed away; behold, all things are become new."
THE point which I propose, from these words, to illustrate is,
the nature of regeneration, or of the new birth.  The apostle
evidently refers to this in the text.  He is adverting to the
great change which had occurred in his own mind on a particular subject, and then advances the general sentiment, that
when one becomes a Christian all his views are changed, or
become "nlew."  "' We have," says he, " known Christ after the
flesh, yet now henceforth know  we him  no more."  That is,
" I formerly had carnal and worldly views of the Messiah. In
common with my countrymen, I looked for a temporal prince
and deliverer.  But I entertain these views no longer, and
regard him no more as such. My views of him are essentially
changed, and I now regard him as a spiritual Saviour, dying to
make an atonement for sin."  A  change resembling this, he
says, occurs in the case of all who are converted.  If any man
is in Christ, or becomes a true Christian, his views are in a
similar manner changed; —changed to such an extent that it
may be said he is a new creature, for the change of view does
not pertain merely to his apprehensions about the Saviour, but
extends to everything.  In reference to all matters, "old things
are passed away; behold, all things are become new."
This statement expresses, with perfect accuracy, the change
which occurs in regeneration. It is a change of view not merely
with reference to one particular point, but to the whole subject of
religion; a change so great that it may be properly called a new
creation, or of such a nature that all things may be said in the
view of the mind to be new.
It is my object now to illustrate the nature of this change;
and, in order to this, it is important that we have clear views
on two points.  The first is, that we separate from  the work
certain things which are not essential to it, or in reference to




THE NATURE OF REGENERATION.                    247
which there may be considerable variety; and the second is,
that we understand what is essential to it. These are the two
points which I propose now to examine.
1. There are some things which frequently accompany a change
of heart, which are not essential to it. That is, in the circumstances and feelings attending it, there may be considerable
variety in different individuals.  This diversity relates to such
points as the following, which it is important particularly to
specify, because erroneous views have often given great occasion
of distress:(1.) In regard to the duration of the seriousness, or the conviction for sin, which usually precedes a change of heart, or is
experienced before evidence is obtained of conversion. Some
duration of time, as a season of serious reflection, or of deep
and pungent conviction for sin, usually precedes conversion, and
seems to be inevitable.  The change is a rational change, and
occurs in connexion with a serious consideration of our condition
as sinners, our danger, and our need of the mercy of God; and
indeed the change does not usually occur except as the result of
a careful and earnest inquiry into the character of our past
lives, and of much solicitude about our final welfare.  But no
particular duration of time is specified in the Scriptures as
necessary to reflect on our condition preparatory to conversion,
and in fact there is great diversity. In some instances conversion is preceded by anxiety that has continued without much
intermission for months or years; in others, there has been a
succession of deep convictions for sin, like successive shocks of
an earthquake, each followed by calmness and unconcern; and
in others the whole work seems to be accomplished in a few
hours or a few moments, and to all appearance it may be as
genuine in the one case as in the other. Many causes contribute
to this variety. The temperament of the individual as phlegmatic or sanguine; the kind of instruction imparted to him then
or before; the circumstances in which he is placed, binding him
with greater or less tenacity to the world; the state of religion
in the church-as a time of general coldness, or a time of revival;
or the want of proper counsel from  his friends, or of proper
sympathy from those who should help him on to God,-all tend
to modify the time during which this work is taking place on
the soul.  Some have been taught, or have somehow imbibed
the opinion, that a protracted " law-work" is necessary before
they can be converted, and they expect this of course, and would
be alarmed at any speedy evidence of a change of heart; and
some, better taught, feel that the moment there is genuine
17




248             THE WAY OF SALVATION.
conviction for sin, the penitent may go to God for pardon, and
they go at once and find peace.
(2.) There is great variety in regard to the intensity of feeling
that precedes or attends the new birth.  There is always feeling
or emotion of some kind, and to some extent. So great a change
in a man's opinions, relations, prospects, hopes, plans of life, as
occurs in conversion to God, cannot take place without some
degree of feeling. No similar change in a man's character and
prospects occurs without emotion.  But men pass through important changes in life with a great variety of feeling; and the
sacred writers have shown their accurate knowledge of man by
not attempting to describe any definite amount of feeling as necessary in the work of conversion. This matter is regulated by a
great variety of causes, and so regulated that no specific rule
could be given. Two brothers lose a much-loved sister. In the
bosoms of both there will be a deep sense of the loss; but the
amount of the emotion, in its manifestation at the grave, may
be very different. In one, it shall be seen in gushing tears; in
the other, the emotion is too big for utterance, and not a tear
shall moisten the cheek. The one turns away relieved in his
anguish by outbreaking sorrow; the other, with a mountain on
his heart, and with a universal deadness of sensibility to all
that he once loved. A father and mother stand by the grave
of a child.  They both feel as they never before felt, and as
mortals never feel in any other situation. But nature has made
a difference between the emotions of the mother and the father,
and the difference will find expression at that grave.  So when
the soul mourns over sin, when it is about to give up the world,
when the great question pertaining to the eternal welfare is to
be settled for ever, there will be, there must be emotion. But it
will be differently manifested. If accompanied with strong crying
and tears, in view of past guilt and present danger, nothing should
lead us to say that such feeling is inappropriate; or if, in a
mind differently moulded, it should be more calm, settled, and
uniform  conviction, let us not say that it cannot be genuine.
The sorrow of that mother who never weeps may be as intense
and deep as that of her whom the slightest sickness of a child
bathes in tears.
(3.) There is great variety in regard to the degree of happiness attendant on the new birth.  That there is joy in the
change of heart, or on becoming a true Christian, is often affirmed
in the sacred Scriptures, and results from the nature of the case.
Conversion is usually preceded by distress of mind in view of
past guilt; by a sense of danger; by solicitude about the final




THE NATURE OF REGENERATION.                     249
destiny of the soul. It results from the nature of the mind, that
when this is removed, it should be followed by peace, calmness,
joy.  But the degree of happiness will be modified by a great
variety of causes.  It must depend much on the depth of the
previous distress; on the degree of clearness attending the evidence of conversion; on the habitual temperament of the mind.
Some minds are full of distrust and caution, and scarcely allow
themselves to contemplate the real grounds of hope which may
exist; some are sanguine, in their temperament, and embrace
the slightest indications of safety, and often rejoice when there
is little occasion for joy. As a matter of fact, therefore, there is
in this respect the greatest variety in the minds of those who
are truly converted; nor can any certain rule be laid down in
regard to the degree of happiness which would be a clear token
of a change of heart.
(4.) The same thing is true in regard to the evidence of conversion. In some instances the change is so sudden and decided
that the convert understands clearly the force of the expressions,
" being brought out of darkness into marvellous light," and
"being translated from the kingdom of Satan into the kingdom
of God's dear Son."  So sudden is the transition, so deep was
the former conviction of sin, and so undoubted are the evidences
of a change, that the day and the hour can be designated with
an accuracy little liable to error. In many such cases the whole
of the subsequent life shows that the hope thus cherished was
well-founded; and that a change of heart did occur that was as
decided as was supposed.  But I need not say that this does not
universally characterize the work of conversion, nor is it usually
the case. In most instances, the evidence is of a much less
decisive character.  Light seems to struggle with darkness;
doubt is mingled with hope; clouds hang about the horizon, or
even shut in the heavens, with only an occasional lighting up
of the sky. Instead of a transition like that which would occur
if the sun should rise suddenly at midnight, and appear at once
on the meridian, and stand there ever onward without eclipse,
and without a cloud, conversion is rather like the dawning of
the light in the east, where you can scarcely mark the change
from deep night to commencing day, and where it is so gradual
that vyou can select no fixed points, no sudden transitions, till
the sun appears. And if the figure thus suggested by the Scriptures themselves (Prov. iv. 18) may be carried a little farther,
when the sun is up, it is not always clear and unclouded day.
lie may rise bright and glorious, and send his rays across the
landscape, lighting up all with beauty, and then be suddenly




250              THE WAY OF SALVATION.
buried behind a dark pile of clouds; or he may meet a tempest
in his way, and the lightnings may play beneath him; or the
moon may cross his path and cover his disk, and a gloom and
chillness-the best illustration which nature affords of what the
Christian experiences when the light of God's countenance is
withdrawn-may come over the world.
(5.) A fifth variety is observable in the different views of truth
that may be presented to the mind at the time of conversion.
This will be determined much by the previous habits of reading,
thought, or education; by the things that have occupied the
mind most during conviction for sin; or by some casual direction which may have been given to the mind at the time of the
change. With one, the attention may be occupied almost entirely
with a sense of the great evil of sin, and the depravity of the
heart; another shall have the thoughts directed almost exclusively to the Saviour-to the beauty of his character, to the
purity of his precepts, or to the glory of his atonement; another
shall see a new beauty stealing over the works of God, and to
him they shall seem to have come fresh from his hand, stamped
with all the proofs of creative power and goodness; while the
heart of another shall be charmed with beauties in the Bible
which have never met the eye before. Or, perchance, some
single truth, or some single duty, shall enchain the affections
and the attention; and at the first moment of conversion the
mind may be fixed on some duty or Christian enterprise that is
to give character to all the subsequent life. A man converted
in old age will be likely to have his thoughts turned to the
mercy of that God who has so long preserved him in his sins,
and to find his heart overflowing with gratitude as the leading
emotion; an ingenuous and ardent youth will most likely look
onward, and the eye will fix on some plan of benevolence, and
he will be likely to hear with singular distinctness the command, " Go ye into all the world, and preach the gospel to every
creature." An ardent fancy will dwell on the bright scenes in
heaven; a heart of tenderness will melt at the remembrance of
the scenes of Calvary.  " All these worketh that one and the
selfsame Spirit, dividing to every man severally as he will,"
1 Cor. xii. 11.
It would be easy to extend these remarks much farther, and
to suggest many other differences which occur in the circumstances of the new birth. But what has been said will illustrate
the general thought, that there is great variety in the feelings
and views attending regeneration. There are two observations
which it is proper to make here by way of inference from what




TIHE NATURE OF REGENERATION.                  251
has been said, before we proceed to consider the second point
proposed. One is, that in examining our own evidences of piety,
we should not compare ourselves much with others. Nothing is
more common for young converts than to do this; and yet, if
the remarks now made are well-founded, nothing is more improper. With the same amount of religion, and with evidences
of piety no better or brighter than your own, another person
may have had views and feelings to which you may have been
almost wholly a stranger. He has a different temperament; he
has been differently educated; his past life has been different;
the thing's that arrested his attention were different; and the
subjects that have particularly interested his mind at conversion
have been different. There can be no certain standard of judging
in the case, if you attempt to determine the nature of your own
feelings by a comparison with those of others; and there can be
no propriety in setting up such a standard. The true question is,
whether you have the characteristics of real piety laid down in
the Bible; not whether you have experienced all that your
neighbour has.
The other remark is, that if these views are correct, there is
room for the exercise of large charity on the subject of religion.
We should not judge others. We should not infer that because
their experience does not accord wholly with ours-that because
they have not precisely the same views of sin, or have not been
pressed down so long with the anguish of conviction, or have
not had the same clearness of evidence on their conversion, or
are not able to mark with the same accuracy the moment when
the change occurred-that therefore they are not Christians.
All this may be true; and yet there may have been a work of
conversion in their hearts, genuine and thorough, that shall abide
the test of all the trials of this life, and the severer investigations
of the final day. We are prepared now to consider,
II. The second point proposed for illustration: it is, WVhat is
essential to a change of heart? or, What uniformly occurs to
distinguish this change from the other revolutions to which the
mind is subject?
The short answer to this inquiry is, that it is the commencement of true religion in the soul. It is the moment when real
piety commences, and  the  sinner begins to  live to  God.
Whether that point of time is actually perceived or not, or
whether the convert can or cannot fix on the precise moment
when the heart is changed, yet there is a time-a momentwhen religion first begins to be exercised in the soul; and that
is the moment of the new birth or regeneration.  This single




252              THE WAY OF SALVATION.
thought-that regeneration is the commencement of true religion in the soul —will aid much in the inquiry whether we have
ever been born again, and would save much of the perplexity
which is usually felt on the subject.  I have said that it is this
which distinguishes this change from all other changes.  Men
experience other changes of feeling and character sometimes as
sudden, as marked, and as permanent, as the change in regeneration; but there is no true religion in them. A dissipated young
man becomes sober and temperate; a bitter foe becomes your
friend; a man of a wild and impetuous temper settles down into
the staidness and gravity of sober life; economy succeeds to extravagance; the love of the theatre and the ball-room give way
to more rational enjoyments; frivolity and vanity are sometimes
succeeded by sober attention to the duties of a family or a profession; or a youth spent without promise is sometimes followed
by a middle life diligent in an honourable calling, and an old
age of respectability; but in any or all of these changes there
may be no religion.  So we change at the different periods of
life. We change, of course, from youth to manhood, and from
manhood to age; we exchange that which characterizes the
young man for that which becomes the man sustaining the responsibilities of life; and then we put on the peculiar characteristics in temper, and opinions, and prejudices of age; but none
of these changes amount to regeneration; for in none of them
is there of necessity the commencement of religion in the soul.
All may be passed through, and yet there may be no love of
God, no preparation for heaven.
Keeping the main thought in view, that the new birth is
the beginning of religion in the heart, I propose now briefly
to specify a few things which are always manifested in this
change.
(1.) The first which I mention is, that there is a new view of
the beauty of religion. Religion appears lovely; it has charms
which were not before felt or perceived.  I do not mean, of
course, that there is any new intellectual power, or faculty of
perceiving truth, created. I do not mean that the " new man il
Christ" becomes different as an intellectual being from what he
was before, or that he becomes of necessity intellectually superior
to his fellow-men. I know well that it is not so. But while
the mental faculties remain unchanged, the mind may acquire a
wholly new view of the value of an object, and see a beauty in
it unperceived before. This often occurs in other things than in
religion, implying a change that may be a good illustration of
the nature of regeneration. We are often sensible of some such




THE NATURE OF REGENERATION.                    253
change of view in regard to the value of objects, and in regard
to their beauty also.  A young man may have no deep sense of
the value of temperance.  Driven on by youthful passion,l or led
on by the solicitation of so-called friends, thrown into circumstances where he may have little time and less opportunity for
reflection, he will see no particular beauty in this virtue, and a
temperate life will have no charms for him. But his views
may be suddenly changed, and so changed that a temperate
life shall appear lovely in his view, and that no consideration
would induce him to return to his former sentiments and practice.  So virtue of all kinds may be made to appear lovely to
those for whom it had no charms; and a change from vice to
virtue may occur that shall characterize the whole of the
subsequent life.
A change, of which this is but the feeble illustration, occurs in
regard to religion, when a sinner is born again.  Religion
assumes a different aspect from what it had ever before in the
view of the mind.  Before, the attention given to it was of a
very limited or a very undesirable character.  In many cases, it
excited positive disgust and hatred; it roused violent opposition;
it was made the subject of ridicule and scorn. In other instances,
where this violence of opposition was not felt or expressed, the
utmost interest that was felt in religion was such as this. It
was an interest arising from the belief that it was of value to
the community, or because preaching had some intellectual or
literary attractions; or because one's friends were members of a
particular church; or because there was a general belief that
religion was necessary for the salvation of the soul. But when
the heart is changed, the interest in religion is of a wholly
different kind. It is the interest arising from love; an interest
in that which is seen to be beautiful, and where it assumes an
importance superior to all other things combined.  That new
beauty, perceived in religion, leads to a corresponding interest
in all that pertains to it. There is an interest in the duties and
doctrines of religion; in the welfare of the church; in the
spread of the gospel; in prayer and praise,-that now seems to
find a place in the soul as a matter of course, which nothing
before could rouse or create.  And this leads me to observe,
(2.) That happiness is now  found in the things that were
formerly disregarded, and that afforded no pleasure. Particularly
there is a new pleasure in the following things: (a) In the
character of God.  He is now seen to be just such a Being as
should be adored and loved. Before this change, the views of
God in the minds of men are very various.  In many cases,




254             THE WAY OF SALVATION.
there is felt a decided opposition to his character; in others, his
laws are regarded as severe; in others, there is entire indifference to his claims; in others, there are strong doubts about
the rectitude of his administration: -in none, is there any perceived beauty in his character.  But when the heart is changed
there is a new  view  of God, and a happiness felt in him
unknown before.  The heart is reconciled to him, and acquiesces
in his claims. The character of God is such as meets the
entire approbation of the soul; and the renewed man feels,that it is just such as it is desirable it should be.  Were there
power to make any change in that character, the Christian
would not do it, for God's character in the view of his mind is
perfect. The language of the renewed man is, " Whom  have I
in heaven but thee? and there is none upon earth that I desire
besides thee." (b) The same thing is true in regard to the plan
of salvation through  the Redeemer. It is impossible for an
unconverted sinner to find happiness in the contemplation of
that plan, or perhaps to see much beauty in it, or to feel anything attractive in the idea of depending wholly on the merits
of Christ for salvation. The most, perhaps, that can be felt is a
cold admiration of the character of the Redeemer; but as to any
beauty in the scheme of the atonement, or any happiness in its
contemplation, it is unknown to the sinner.  But the converted
man finds pleasure in the contemplation of that plan of salvation.
It meets his case.  It provides a way of pardon.  It has brought
him back to God. It has done for him what he cannot do, and
has saved him from errors from which otherwise he could not
have been saved; and his happiness now is identified with that
scheme of salvation by the Redeemer. Christ becomes " all in
all;" and the language of the soul is, "I count all things but
loss for the excellency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus my
Lord."  (c) Thus, too, there is pleasure in the Bible.  There is
a beauty now seen in its pages which man never sees until he is
converted; and nothing is more common for the young convert,
in speaking of the Bible, than to say that it is to him " a new
book;" and his wonder is excited that the same things may
have been read, and perhaps from very childhood, with no perception of their beauty. There is no miracle in this; no exertion
of any new intellectual faculty or power of mind. The simple
fact is, that the statements in the Bible now meet a new condition of his heart, and those beauties are perceived because they
correspond with the state of the soul.  The same thing will
continue to occur through life. New circumstances arise; new
forms of temptation and trial occur when new beauty is seen in




THE NATURE OF REGENERATION.                   255
the word of God, and it seems to have been penned just for such
an occasion. A closer acquaintance with it only shows more
and more with what profound skill it is adapted to the wants of
the human soul; and the impression of its beauty and value
increases to the end of life. I need not remind you how often
the beauty of the sacred Scriptures is commended by the saints
of old, nor what exquisite happiness the psalmist represents
himself as finding in the volume of revealed truth:-" O how
love I thy law! it is my meditation all the day."  " More to be
desired," said he, speaking of the statutes of the Lord, " are they
than gold, yea, than much fine gold; sweeter also than honey
and the honeycomb."  This is language that would express only
the feelings of a heart that is renewed. (d) The same thing is
true of the happiness found in the worship of God-of the
privilege of drawing near to him  in the closet and in the
sanctuary.  " It is good for me to draw near to God."  " How
amiable are thy tabernacles, O Lord of hosts! Mly soul longeth,
yea, even fainteth for the courts of the Lord; my heart and my
flesh crieth out for the living God."  "I had rather be a doorkeeper in the house of my God than to dwell in the tents of
wickedness."  This, too, is language which expresses the feelings
of a new-born soul. It is not language which expresses any
feelings which they have who are not renewed. There is no
interest which such persons can have, in the pomp of gorgeous
religious rites; or in the music of the sanctuary, executed with
the utmost power and skill; or in the most eloquent exhibition
of truth in the pulpit, that meets the fulness of such declarations
about the happiness felt in the worship of God. It is a happiness
peculiar to the renovated man; where the heart finds pleasure
in communion with God; where the regenerated spirit finds
pleasure in those pure services that raise it above the world.
And though I do not design to insist on it that these elevated
joys are essential to the evidence of a change of heart, yet I do
mean to advance the sentiment, that where such a change exists
there will be experienced a happiness in God; in the plan of
salvation; in the Bible; in public and private worship,-such as
was not experienced before, and such as is produced only by the
love o'f religion.
(3.) A third essential feature in this change is, a readiness to
forsake all sin, and all pursuits that are inconsistent with a holy
life. This enters of course into the change, for it is a change
from sin to holiness. The past life is now seen to have been
unholy, and it becomes the purpose of the soul to abandon all
that is offensive to God. And this love of sin, and of sinful




256              THE WAY OF SALVATION.
pursuits, is not abandoned now merely because it is commanded
to be; it is the preference of the heart to do it.  The renewed
heart renounces these things as a matter of course, and at any
sacrifice.  Paul gave up at once his career of ambition, —though
it required the sacrifice of all his earthly prospects; and the
Ephesian converts abandoned a dishonest calling at once, though
requiring the sacrifice of their "books" and the destruction of a
large amount of property.  No proposition can be clearer than
that a man who is not willing to forsake his sinful pursuits can
have no evidence that he is born again.
The same remarks are applicable to the world, to its pleasures,
its gaieties, its vanities.  In the case of a true convert to Christ,
the theatre is forsaken, not because it is a matter of express
injunction in the Bible, but because it ceases to interest the
mind.  The changed heart becomes interested in other things,
and in the superior relish for the pleasures and hopes of religion:
the pleasure once found in such amusements is extinguished of
course.  So to a mind truly converted and made to taste the
happiness of communion with God, the pleasures of the ball-room
and the brilliant party cease to allure and charm.  To such a
mind it is not mere command which requires the forsaking of
" the pride, pomp, and vanity of the world;" it is not mere conscience which keeps from an indulgence in such pleasures; it is
not the mere apprehension that pain will be given to the friends
of piety, and dishonour reflected on the church-though all of
these things will influence the mind; it is, that the relish,
the love for such things is lost.  The heart has become attached
to nobler and more elevated pursuits, and has learned to find
pleasure in that which now  satisfies the soul.  "Old things
have passed away, and all things have become new;" and pleasures which a few months since the individual would not have
been induced to forsake for any price in gold or diamonds, are
now abandoned as a matter of course.  The heart has become
dead to such pleasures; and to mingle in them  now with relish
and satisfaction would be far more difficult than it would have
been before to forsake them-nay, would be impossible.
(4.) I need only advert to one other essential characteristic
of this change: it is, that there is a readiness to devote all to
God, and to do his will.  The question asked by Paul at his
conversion was, "Lord, what wilt thou have me to do P" and
the same question  substantially is asked by every one who
becomes a Christian. Before the heart is renewed, far different
principles rule the conduct.  Men act with reference to honour,
to gain, to office, to amusement, to sensual indulgence.  Their




THE NATURE OF REGENERATION.                      257
time they regard as their own; their talents as their own; their
houses, lands, bonds, stocks, books as their own, to be held and
disposed of without reference to the will of another.  The young
man feels at perfect liberty to choose any calling that may
gratify his taste, or that holds out alluring prospects of gain,
without reference to the will of his Maker, or to the good of
men.  The plan is laid for a profession which shall give the
greatest scope for the display of genius, or which shall conduct
most speedily to the temple of fame, or which shall soonest
enable him  to look round on  his possessions with the consciousness of independence.  In all these things conversion to
God makes a decided, a thorough change.  Talent, learning,
strength, vigour of body, is felt to belong to God. Though
educated for different purposes, as Paul was, the young man
feels now that his talents and learning are to be devoted to his
Maker; though wealth has been gained for different objects, yet
the convert now  feels that it all belongs to Him  who has
redeemed him; and though the young female may have been
trained to adorn the social circle, yet it is now felt that these accomplishments should be made tributary to the purpose of doing
good in those circles which it was designed only to please, and
should be subordinate to the grand purpose of preparation for
the society of the skies.  " Old things are passed away, and all
things are become new.;" and talent, and influence, and learning,
and wealth, and accomplishments are converted to the new and
holy purpose of living to God.
There are, perhaps, other things which might be adduced here,
but you will gather, I trust, from what has been said, what is
essential to this change.  The grand thing, you will understand,
is, that it is the commencement of pure religion in the soul.
Whether attended with more protracted or briefer preparation;
with higher or lower degrees of joy; with more decided or
with fainter evidences of conversion; with the contemplation of
identical or different truths,-it is the same.  It is the beginning
of real piety in the heart. Whether it be in the thrilling scenes
of a revival of religion, or under the calmer operations of truth,
where few are converted; whether the change take place in the
ardour of youth, or when age has chilled the sensibilities and
awakened the intellect; whether under a ministry holding to
Calvinistic or Arminian views, or a ministry of " three orders"
or " one;" or whether in a church with multitudinous forms, and
with a great zeal for the " apostolic succession," and with great
regard for the office of baptism; or where there is no ministry,.and no form, and no belief in baptism at all,-there is but one




258              THE WAY  OF SALVATION.
work that is the work of conversion; there is but one baptism of
the Spirit; there is everywhere essentially the same thing in the
change of the heart.  It is the beginning of true religion in the
soul. It leads to simple dependence on Christ for salvation. It
is attended by a new interest in religion; a new pleasure in its
services; a new relish for the Bible and for prayer; new love
for Christians, new plans of life; as well as with a readiness to
forsake all that God hates, and to devote the life to his service
in any sphere to which, by his Spirit and his providence, he
shall direct.




SERMON XX.
THE AGENCY OF THE HOLY SPIRIT IN REGENERATION.
TITUS iii. 5. —" Not by works of righteousness which we have done, but
according to his mercy he saved us, by the washing of regeneration, and
renewing of the Holy Ghost."
IN the two last discourses I have considered the necessity and
the nature of regeneration or the new birth.  If the remarks
there made are correct, there are various important questions in
regard to the subject which at once occur to the mind. The
main inquiry is, By what agency is this change produced?  Is
it by our own? Is it by the unassisted effect of truth on the
heart?  Or is it by a Divine power?  It is evident that our
views of the agency by which the heart is changed will materially
affect our sense of duty and obligation in regard to the change.
If the work be accomplished by a Divine Agent, it is clear also
that our views of duty and obligation in regard to it will be
nlaterially affected by the opinions which we cherish respecting
the nature of his agency on the soul. I propose, then, at this
time, to arrange my remarks under the following heads:-I. I
propose to show that the heart is renewed by the agency of the
Holy Ghost; and, II. To explain, as far as I may be able, the
nature of that agency.
I. The htloly Spirit is the Agent by whom the uwork of regeneration is produced.  I mean by this, that it is by his efficient
operation that the heart is changed; that without that agency
the change would never occur; and that whatever subordinate
agencies may be employed, or whatever means used, the fact
that the heart is renewed is to be as distinctly traced to him as
the creation of the world is to be traced to the power of God.
The power of the Holy Ghost on the heart is always indispensable
in securing the result; and no heart ever has been changed, or
ever will be, except by his power so exerted on the soul.  Of
all the myriads now in glory redeemed from our world, and of
all yet to be redeemed and saved, no one will ever have been
brought to heaven in reference to whom there has not been a
distinct and special exertion of his power in changing the heart.




260               THE WAY OF SALVATION.
What may be the nature of the agency of man himself or of
the truth in this change, is a distinct and important subject of
inquiry; but whatever may be that agency, it is not such as to
exclude the efficient operation of the Holy Ghost in the change,
or such of itself as ever to bring one soul to heaven.  I am thus
particular in the statement of the doctrine because of its importance; because Christians have often vague views in regard to it;
and because it is desirable that impenitent sinners should understand it.
There are two sources of evidence in regard to the truth of
this doctrine-the Scriptures, and experience.  A few remarks
on each of these points will show the nature of this evidence.
First, the Scriptures.  The text furnishes the best proof: " Not
by works of righteousness which we have done, but according to
his mercy he saved us, by the washing of regeneration, and renewing of the Holy Ghost."  Whatever controversy there may have
been at any time in the church about the relation of baptism to
this change, or whatever support a false interpretation of this
passage may have been supposed to give to the doctrine of
baptismal regeneration, the main  point is abundantly clear.
Salvation is accomplished by the renewing of the Holy Ghost.
No application of water can answer the purpose of his agency,
or can effect the work without it.  And even if the doctrine of
" baptismal regeneration" be held, and it be maintained that
the Holy Spirit is certainly given on the proper administration
of that ordinance, still the necessity of that agency is affirmed,
and the efficacy in the change is to be traced to him.  You will
not understand me as conceding even the possibility that the
doctrine of "baptismal regeneration" is true, or that there is a
reference to it in the text.  So far from  that, I hold that there
is no doctrine whatever that more certainly saps the foundation
of all true piety in the church, and tends to destroy the souls of
men; and, compared with that, all the errors that may be supposed to be held, or not held, in the controversies about the
shibboleths of party, and forms in religion, and the apostolical
succession, are trifles not worthy to be named.  But I am showing that even on the supposition that there be in our text an
allusion to such a doctrine, still the main thing is indisputably
taught there, that men are saved, if saved at all, by the renewing of the Holy Ghost. The same thing is taught by the Saviour
in John iii. 5: " Except a man be born of water, and of the
Spirit, he cannot enter into the kingdom  of God."  The same
remarks might be made in regard to this passage which have
been made of the text.  Even on the supposition that there is




AGENCY OF TIHE HOLY SPIRIT.                    261
reference here to the necessity of baptism, still it is explicitly
affirmed that the agency of the HI-oly Spirit is indispensable to
salvation.  The affirmation is distinct and unequivocal, that
unless a man be born or "begotten" of the Spirit, he cannot
enter into the kingdom of God. In further confirmation of this
doctrine, we might appeal to all those passages of Scripture
which affirm  that a Divine power is exerted in renewing the
heart; that God hath begotten us to a lively hope; that of his
own will he hath begotten us through the truth;-to the assurance
of the Saviour that the Comforter would come to convince the
world of sin, of righteousness, and of judgment;-and to the
account of the transactions on the day of Pentecost.  All the
affirmations in the sacred Scriptures of a Divine agency inl
renewing the heart are to be understood of the Holy Ghost,
because, although general where they occur, in other places it is
distinctly affirmed that the Holy Ghost is the agent by whom
this work is effected.  As the texts adduced settle the question
about the teachings of the Scripture on the subject, let us look at
the other source of evidence-that derived from  experience.
This is not referred to because it would demonstrate it without
the teachings of the Scripture, but to show how plain the account
of the matter is in the Bible, and how effectually the belief of
this truth is secured among the friends of God.
The nature and strength of this evidence will be perceptible
from the following facts, which no one who is acquainted with
the subject can deny:
(1.) Every man who becomes a Christian believes that the
change in his heart has been effected by a Divine agency. There
is something about the change in his soul which satisfies his
mind that it is not by any agency of his own. Whatever may
have been his personal efforts in the case; whatever struggles
lhe may have gone through; and whatever views of Christian
doctrine he may subsequently embrace, yet he has no doubt that
the change is to be traced to a power fiom above.  Such is his
view  of his own depravity; of the downward, earthly, corrupt
tendency of his soul, that he is certain that, if he had been left
to himself, he would have been a wretched wanderer still on the
dark mountains of sin, and would never have been disposed to
turn to God.  It becomes his habitual and settled conviction.
that if he had been left to his own ways he would have continued
to walk in the broad road that leads down to death.
(2.) So universal and settled is the belief of the Divine agency
in the conversion of men to God, that it has been incorporated
into the creed and confession of faith of every Christian church




262             THE WAY OF SALVATION.
on earth. No exception to this has ever occurred; not a church
has ever existed, it is believed, of any denomination, which has
not, in its symbols, attributed this change to the power of the
Holy Ghost.  There is not one that attributes the change to
man; not one where it is intimated that man is of himself
competent to effect it.
(3.) The same thing is expressed in the writings of theologians. No doctrine of the Scriptures has been more constantly
and firmly asserted by writers on theology; and it may be
confidently affirmed that there never has been an evangelical
writer of respectability who has denied the necessity of a Divine
influence in renewing the heart. This sentiment is found in
writers of every age and of every form of evangelical theological
sentiment;-of men who have entertained different opinions on
the will and the ability of man;-of men who have held different
sentiments on the nature of Divine and human agency, the
forms of worship, the ordinances of religion, and the constitution
of the church. All " schools" —old and new; all classes of theologians-Calvinistic and Arminian; all denominations-Presbyterian, Episcopal, Baptist, Methodist, Lutheran; and all evangelical theologians of all countries and ages, maintain it. I
have never found the doctrine denied in any theological writings
of this kind with which I am acquainted; I have never heard a
doubt expressed of its truth among those ministers with whom
I am particularly associated, and with whom I am accustomed
to act; I am morally certain there is not a Presbyterian minister
in this land that would express a doubt about its truth and its
vital importance.
(4,) The truth of the same doctrine is expressed in the prayers
and thanksgivings of all sincere Christians.  They pray as if
they believed it; as if it were their hope and stay; as if they
relied on it as the only ground of encouragement in doing good
to others, and as the only basis of calculation in regard to the
salvation of men. They pray for themselves, their friends, their
families, their country, and the world, as if they believed that
it is only by the exertion of Divine power that the obstacles to
salvation can be overcome in the human heart; and, in forming
their plans for doing good to others, they expect success only on
the supposition that the Spirit of all grace will attend those
efforts, and will crown them  with his blessing.  And when
they think of the foundation of their own hopes of heaven, they
attribute it wholly to the agency of the Spirit of God on their
hearts. Their thanks are rendered to the God of grace because
he was pleased to arrest them when they were in the way to




AGENCY OF TIE HOLY SPIRTr.                   263
death; to awaken them to see their guilt and danger; to convince them of their sins, and to lead them to God. Whatever
effort they themselves have made; whatever profound and patient
thought they have bestowed on the subject; and whatever help
they have received from ministers and others, yet they feel that
their thanks are primarily and chiefly due to God for his mercy;
and the language of my text expresses precisely the sentiment
of their hearts: " Not by works of righteousness which we
have done, but according to his mercy he saved us, by the
washing of regeneration, and renewing of the Holy Ghost;
which he shed on us abundantly through Jesus Christ our
Saviour."
I have been thus particular in this statement for two reasons:
first, to show that the doctrine of the Holy Spirit's agency in
renewing the heart is so clearly taught in the Scriptures, and
is so incorporated in the experience of all true Christians, as to
secure its permanent belief in the Church; and, secondly, to
repel the charge which is often brought against what are called
"New  School" Presbyterians of denying it.  It is not often
that I allude to any such charges. But this has been so wholly
gratuitous, and so deeply injurious, that in a discussion of the
subject a very distinct avowal of its belief seemed to be demanded.  I have had, from  my position and relations to the
church, an opportunity of a somewhat extensive observation of
the kind of doctrines which are held up before men in preaching;
and I venture the declaration, that there is no class of ministers
in this land that dwell so much on the necessity of the agency
of the Holy Spirit to renew the hearts of men as what are called
" New  School" Presbyterians, and those who sympathize with
them. I venture still farther the remark, that the doctrines of
"grace"-the stern and rigid doctrines of Calvinism, as they
are supposed to be,-the doctrine of decrees, of Divine sovereignty, of election, and kindred doctrines, are nowhere so steadily
and so firmly maintained in preaching, and in the affections of
the heart, as in the "New School" churches.  It is true that
our preachers attempt to show how these things are; that they
endeavour to prove that these doctrines are not inconsistent
with human freedom, and the unlimited offer of the gospel, and
the willingness of God to save all, and the ability of man to do
his duty, and the doctrine of accountability; but it is also true
that there is no shrinking from the avowal, the defence, and the
thorough discussion of these doctrines, and from a desire that
our congregations should feel and acknowledge their full force
in the matter of salvation.
18




264              THS WAY  OF SALVATION.
II. Our second inquiry relates to the nature of the ca/gency of
the Holy S)Tirit int conversion.  Our Saviour has explicitly forbidden us to hope to be able fully to explain the nature of this
agency.  He says (John iii. 8), "The wind bloweth where it
listeth [pleaseth], and thou hearest the sound thereof, but canst
not tell whence it cometh, and whither it goeth: so is every one
that is born of the Spirit."  The meaning is, that his agency is
invisible, and is to be known by its effects.  We see not the
wind; but on a calm  summer's eve we see the harvest-field
gently wave, or the bosom of the lake gently ruffled; or we see
the leaf of the aspen tremble when we feel our own cheeks
scarcely fanned; —or in a tempest we see the forest bend, and
the ocean lashed into foam, and cloud rolling on cloud, and fences,
and trees, and houses, swept along in the tornado; and we
judge that there is some efficient agent to do all this, though in
both cases invisible.  So we see certain effects on the mind and
life of man.  He is changed.  Sometimes the influence that produces the change is gentle as the zephyr that bends the osier on
the bank of the rivulet, or that moves over the harvest-field;
and sometimes it is as mighty as the tempest that prostrates the
oak on the hills.  In each case it secures the result.  It converts
the soul.  It inclines the understanding to contemplate Divine
truth, personal duty, and obligation; the conscience, to decide in
favour of God and his claims; the will, to yield to the motives
which prompt to obedience; the soul, to devote itself with all its
powers to the service of its Maker. It leads men before of
various sentiments, opinions, habits, prejudices, and philosophical
views, to harnony in the great matter of salvation, and unites
them  in love to the same object, and in the hope of the same
heaven.
Our Saviour has told us, that the agency which does this is
unseen; and by a simple illustration, such as he was in the
habit of using, he has told us that when we see certain effects
produced, we ought to infer that there is an adequate cause.
The remark implies, indeed, that there is much in regard to it
which is unknown to man, and which he cannot explain.  But
his observation does not forbid us to look atfacts, as far as we
may be able to observe them —just as we would in regard to the
effects of the wind. There are many things, in both instances,
which may be known; and nothing forbids us, in either case, to
make the observation as extensive as we can, and to record the
facts just as they occur. I invite your attention, therefore, to a
few statements of facts which have been observed, in respect to the
nature of the Holy Spirit's agency in renewing the heart.




AGENCY OF THE HOLY SPIRIT.                     2G5
(1.) The first which I mention is, that his agency on the mind.n conversion is not that of compulsion.  It is not such as to
destroy the freedom of man, or in any way such as to interfere
with the proper exercise of his powers as a moral agent. W1:hen
a man becomes a Christian he acts as a freeman; and whatever
power has been exerted over him, no violation has been done to
his liberty, nor has he done anything which has not been to him
a matter of preference or choice. This will be made clear by a few
remarks. One is, that the ag'ency of God is always according to
the nature of the thing on which it is exerted.  I-e created the
world by the mere exertion of power without means, or apart
from any existing organization or laws.  He will raise the dead
by the same power.  He originally fixed the stars, and preserves
their positions by the same power.  But when he moves the
planets, raises the tides, excites the tempests, causes the seasons
to return, congeals the waters in the winter, or dissolves them
in the warmth of returning spring, it is by the same power
indeed, yet it is in accordance with fixed laws; and he does not,
except in miracle, exert his power in a mode that is a departure
from those laws.  So it is his power that produces the effects
we see in the vegetable creation; but it is in accordance with
the laws of the vegetable kingdom.  He governs the lion of the
forest, and controls the whole animal creation; but it is in
accordance with the instincts of their nature.  And in like
manner he governs man, and produces important changes in his
views and feelings; yet it is not by miracle, but in accordance
with the laws of mind.  He does not govern the stars by the
"ten  commandments;" nor does he control the lion or the
leopard by influences such as he would use to form the lily or
the rose; nor does he control man by such power as he would
use to subdue the lion or the panther.  Everything is controlled
in accordance with the laws of its own nature; and as man is
made a freeman, with the appropriate powers of moral agency,
it is certain that the laws of his nature will be consulted and
respected in any control that God exerts over him, just as it is
that the laws of crystallization will be in forming ice and snow;
that the orange and the lemon will be made to grow in accordance with the laws of the vegetable kingdom; and that the lion
will "roar and seek his meat at the hand of God" by the
instinct of his nature.
We find uniform statements in the sacred Scriptures in accordance with this. When the worlds were made, it is said to have
been by the "word of God" (Heb. xi. 3), without any instrumentality. When the dead were raised by the Saviour, it was




266              THE AWAY  OF SALVATION.
in the same way.  But when man is referred to as converted,
though there is a uniform  assertion that it is by the Divine
power, yet it is said to be by the use of means; by the word of
trutih; by the preaching of the gospel; by the presentation of
motives to induce him to turn to God. Throughout the whole
work, he is treated not as stones, or trees, or planets, or the
tribes of animals that roam the forest are treated, but as a manas endued with conscience, and reason, and moral powers, and as
capable of judging of right and wrong. No power is spoken of except in connexion with the presentation of truth, and of the proper
zmeans for acting on a free moral agent, and no effect is described
but such as could be exerted on the powers of such an agent.
As a matter of fact, it is undeniable that all the changes which
occur in regeneration are those connected with conscious freedom.
The converted sinner acknowledges the power of God in  his
change.  He is sensible that he has become what he is by an
influence from  on high.  It was some such mysterious power
that arrested his attention; that alarmed his conscience; that
induced him to give his heart to God.  But he has been sensible
of no violation of his freedom.  He has done nothing which he
has not done freely.  He was not converted by bringing a deep
sleep upon him, as Eve was formed from the side of Adam, nor
was an unnatural stupor diffused over his frame benumbing all
his faculties, and leaving him to be moulded as the clay; but he
was converted in the full exercise of his faculties, and with the
entire consciousness of acting  as a freeman.o  He has done
nothing which he did not prefer to do; he has abandoned no
sin which he did not choose to abandon; he has formed no new
plan of living by becoming a Christian which he did not choose
to form.  Onle of the most free and unfettered acts of his life was
that when he gave himself to God; and he became a Christian with
as much conscious freedom, and often with as much of the spirit
of rejoicing, as the imprisoned father leaves the gloomy cell
where he has been long immured, to visit his children when his
prison doors are thrown open, or as the galley-slave exults when
the chains fall from his hands.  There is no act that man ever
performs more freely than that of becoming a Christian.  His
whole heart is in it; and no matter what sinful course he
abandons, what sacrifices he makes, and what friends he is constrained to leave, or what amusements he is required to abjure,
he does it most freely.  And no matter what trials he may see
before him; no matter though his embracing  religion  may
require him  to forsake his country and home to preach the
gospel in a heathen land, it is all cheerfully done. It is the act




AGENCY  OF TIHE HOLY  SPIRIT.                   267
of a freeman.  HIe prefers it.  I-Ie would not, for all the gold
and diamonds and coronets and crowns of the earth, have it
otherwise.  And though he is conscious-for who could not but
be so in such a change — that this has been brought about by
the power of God, and will always ascribe it to the agency of
the Holy Ghost, yet he feels that no law of his nature has been
violated, and that one of the most free acts of his life was then
when he gave his heart to God.
The doctrine which T. here state is precisely that which is so
well expressed in the Westminster Confession of Faith: "Effectual
calling is the work of God's almighty power and grace, whereby
lie doth in his accepted time invite and draw them [his elect] to
Jesus Christ, by his word and Spirit; savingly enlightening
their minds, renewing and powerfully determiinig their wills, so
that they, although in themselves dead in sin, are hereby wvilling
and able FREELY to answer his call, and to accept and embrace
the grace offered and conveyed therein."  " All those whom God
hath predestinated unto life, he is pleased in his appointed time
effectually to call-renewing their wills, and by his Almighty
power determining then to that which is good -yet so as they
come MOST FREELY, being made willing by his grace."    God
hath endued the will of man with natural liberty, so that it is
neither forced, nor by any absolute necessity of nature determined
to good or evil."  "When God converts a sinner, and translates
him into a state of grace, he freeth him from his natural bondage
under sin, and by his grace alone enables him freely to will and
to do that which is spiritually good."  These passages from  the
standard of Presbyterian doctrine state the simple  truth  in
regard to the conversion of the sinner.  Whatever powver is. used,
the sinner acts freely; he chooses life; he prefers to be a
Christian; he is conscious that there is no compulsion, and no
violation of the laws of his moral nature.  And all this is in
exact lharmony with the promise made to the Messiah: " Thy
people shall be willing in the day of thy power," Psa. cx. 3.*
(2.) The agency of the Holy Spirit in regeneration is in entire
accordance vwith the truth that is brought to bear on the mind.
What may be the exact power of the truth itself in producing this
change, whether it may or may not have a power of its own, or
an adaptedness to the soul which acts by itself or by " moral
suasion," is not material in order to understand the remark which
* This promise possibly may  have reference not to conversion, but to
the voluntary efforts put forth by the Saviour's people to promote the
triumphs of his lingdoml. The general principle, however, is such as warrants the above reference to it.




268               THE WAY OF SALVATION.
I now make.  The idea is, that there is no change produced on
the soul in regeneration which the truth is not fitted to make, or
which the truth, if it secures its proper result, will not make.
In repentance, for example, there is no sorrow of the heart in
reference to guilt which the truth about ourselves is not of itself
fitted to excite. In the love of God experienced by a converted
man, there is no effect produced which the truth about the Divine
nature and character is not fitted to secure.  There is no love
experienced towards God which ought not to be exercised, or
of which he is not worthy.  In the exercise of faith in the
Redeemer, there is no effect produced on the mind which is not
in strict accordance with the truth.  All the confidence reposed
in him  ought to be reposed in him, from  the excellence of his
own character; from what he has done for us; from his claims
on us. And so when the heart glows with joy in the contemplation of the truths of the Bible; when the mind is filled with
peace resulting from reconciliation with God; when the hope of
heaven is strongly cherished producing delightful anticipations
of future glory,-there is no effect produced which the truth is
not calculated to work. All the emotions and feelings, the hopes,
the joys, the penitent sorrows, the believing acts of trust in
Christ, secured in regeneration, are just such as the truth is
fitted to produce on the mind.  There is no evidence that the
Holy Spirit goes beyond this, or that he secures one effect on
the soul which the truth, as brought to bear on the mind, is not
adapted to induce.  That man is a sinner, is a simple and affecting matter of fact.  Commonly he does not feel this, or care
about it.  In regeneration he does; and the proper view of this
constitutes repentance. That there is a God who ought to be
loved with all the heart and mind and strength, is a simple
matter of verity.  The sinner does not feel this.  At regeneration this is felt; and to secure this, is one of the great effects
produced by the change.  That Christ died for man as the only
Saviour, and is every way fitted to be a Saviour, is a simple truth.
Before regeneration, men do not feel this, or believe it. At regeneration, they do; and the effect on their minds is to lead them to
exercise that confidence in the Redeemer which they ought to
exercise.  That there is a heaven is simple truth, whether men
believe it or not.  Before conversion, they do not believe it.
When the heart is changed, they do; and the effect on the mind
is simply that which the truth about heaven is adapted to produce.  If these are just views, then they are of great importance
in understanding the subject. For thus it will follow, that there
is encouragement to present the truth to the mind of a sinner;




AGENCY  OF TIlE HOLY SPIRIT.                  269
that it is proper to use means for his conversion; that there is
encouragement to appeal to men to love God, to repent of sin,
and to believe the gospel. And thus it will follow also, that that
mode of preaching which counsels men to " wait" for the agency
of the Holy Spirit to convert the heart, is presumption of the
most offensive character. It is the same kind of trusting in God
which a sick man would exercise who should lie passively on
his bed, and use no means for his restoration; or as a farmer
manifests who "observes the clouds" without sowing, and who
passively and indolently looks to God for a harvest without even
ploughing his fields. It will follow, also, that it is no more
rational for us to wait for the interposition of God to save us
without effort of our own, than it would be for such a farmer to
wait for God himself to create a waving harvest on the unploughed and unsown field, and to expect that the harvest would
spring up before him without any effort on his part.  The idea
which I wish you to receive is, that you can have no basis of
calculation or of hope about your salvation beyond the means
which you use, and the efforts which you put forth. What hope
there would be if you should put forth your highest efforts, is
another question.  It is true of the farmer that his hopes may be
disappointed after all his efforts. Blight and mildew, or drought,
or a tornado, may frustrate all his expectations.  But he can
have no ground of anticipation or of hope whatever, unless he
ploughs and sows his field.  And so it is with you in regard to
salvation.  You can have no warrant whatever for hope or
expectation, unless you will make an effort; unless you will pray;
unless you will attend to the truth; unless you will use all
proper means to secure its due effect on the mind. Look at a
farmer. See him go to work, and pull down all his fences around
his field; see him then draw on logs and brush, and pile them
up everywhere.  See him cart on vast masses of stone, and cover
up the parts of the field that are most fertile.  Then see him go
and sow, on the few spots that may remain uncovered, the seed
of cockle, and nettles, and thistles, and devoutly stand and wait for
God to give him a harvest of wheat.  And what think you would
be his prospect of such a harvest?  I will tell you. Just as
much exactly as your prospect of salvation in the way in which
you deal with your mind and heart.  You take down all the
defences of truth, and all the guards against error around your
soul, and allow the soul to be like an open common.  Then you
sover up all the mind, and crush it down, by cares and pleasures
of this world; by ambition and unholy indulgences.  Then you
make the heart hard-like piling vast masses of stone on a




270               THE WAY OF SALVATION.
fertile soil.  And then you fill the mind, not with truth, but
with all sorts of error, that take root and grow just as fireweed
and thistles do on the farm; and then you pretend to wait on
God for his power to clear away all this rubbish, and root up all
these thorns and thistles, and to convert the soul; and there is
no wonder that the soul is not converted.
(3.) The agency of the Holy Spirit in conversion is in accordance with all-the laws of our nature; or is such as to secure the
proper action of our mental and moral powers.  Man has an
understanding; but before regeneration it is darkened by sin;
it takes perverted views of the proportionate value of things;
its decisions are blinded by prejudice, by passion, and by selfishness, so that it has no just and proper view of things as they
are.  The I-oly Spirit at conversion secures the right action of
the understanding, and it looks at things as they are in reality,
and the mind acts as if those things were so.  Man, before conversion, has a conscience.  But its decisions are often perverted,
dimmed, or resisted.  It prompts man to love and obey God, but
he does not yield to it; it urges him to pray, and prepare to die,
but he resists its promptings; it admonishes him of past guilt,
and urges him to repentance, but he refuses to yield; it warns
him  against passion, and worldliness, and vanity, but he pursues
these things in spite of its rebules.  When he is converted, the
Holy Spirit secures this effect.  He leads the man to honour the
dictates of conscience-to cease to oppose it-to act in accordance with its verdicts.  I-He no longer attempts to silence its
rebukes; to turn a deaf ear to its warnings; to pervert its decisions; or to act in violation of its promptings. Man, before conversion, has a will.  But it is perverse, obstinate, selfish, blind.
Its actings on religious subjects are more likely to be wrong
than right;-are always wrong.  The unconverted sinner never
wills anything, because his Mlaiker wills it, or in accordance with
his Maker's will.  The Holy Spirit in conversion secures the
right action of the will.  He leads the man to a readiness to
determine his own deeds, plans, and purposes, in accordance with
the will of God.  There is no new faculty, and no old faculty
with new powers; there is simply such an influence exerted over
it as to secure its decisions in accordance with the will of God.
And the same is true of all the faculties and powers of the mind.
The agency of the Holy Ghost is just such as to secure their
proper and healthful action.  No new power of mind is created,
none is directly expanded. Nothing is created as an independent
substance and put into the soul at conversion; nor has the man
any constitutional powers or propensities after conversion which




AGENCY OF THE HOLY SPIRIT.                    271
he had not before.  rThe effect, to use a fig'ure often employed
in the sacred Scriptures to describe the influences of the Holy
Spirit, is like that of the rains and dews of heaven. A land is
desolate by drought.  Its streams are dried up; its harvests
have failed; its fields seem  to be burned over, and here and
there stand but a few stunted shrubs covered with dust, only
heig'htening the desolation. Trees are planted, and seeds of flowers,
and fruits, and corn are sovwn  in vain.  The trees wither, and
the seeds remain in the ground, and not a germ  unfolds itself.
The sun, small and piercing-, rides up a " hot and copper sky,"
and pours down his scorching beams on panting animals and
enfeebled men. A rock, far-projecting, is a most grateful shelter,
and night furnishes the only respite and comfort for the smitten
inhabitants of the parched land.  Clouds then gather; the rain
descends, and the whole aspect of the land is changed.  Streams
and water-falls pour down the valleys; the fields rejoice and
smile; the stunted shrub is green ag'ain; the seed, long buried,
springs up, and the earth is covered with a carpet of beautiful
green, and the air is filled with fragrance. In the East, where
such things are common, they succeed each other with a rapidity
to us unknown, and hence the illustration is so often used in the
Scriptures.  Such a change comes over a sinner's soul, over a
community and a congregation, when the Holy Spirit of God
descends with renovating power.  Nothing can effect it but the
power of God, as nothing can effect the change in the land of
drought but the rain and dews that God shall send down;-but,
like that, it is not a change produced by miracle.  It calls forth
the inactive and slumbering powers of the soul-as the rain does
the sleeping powers of nature.  It vivifies and quickens all the
faculties of man.  It illuminates his understanding; prompts
him to just decisions of conscience; leads his will to determine
right, and disposes him to devote himself to God. And it diffuses
over the soul of the individual, and over the church and people
thus blessed, a moral loveliness of which the beauty of the landscape
after the fertilizing rain is but the faint and imperfect emblem.
Such, I apprehend, is the truth, as far as it goes, in the explanation of the Holy Spirit's agency in the conversion of the
soul.  That there is much about that agency which is unexplained, and which it is beyond our power to explain, is not
denied, but the same thing is true in regard to every case in which
we attempt an elucidation.  In the action of the wind, the dew,
the rain, the sunbeam  in vegetation, there is much beyond any
explanation which has been yet suggested; but this throws no
obscurity on a multitude of things which are clear and intel



272               THE WAY  OF SALVATION.
ligiole.  So it is in regard to the conversion of the soul.  That
it is by the agency of the Spirit of God is clear beyond dispute;
and it is equally clear that it is done in perfect accordance with
the freedom of man; that no effect is produced which the truth
is not fitted to work out; and that it is in entire accordance with
all the powers of our rational nature.
If these things are so, then two conclusions follow from what
has been said, of more importance to us than any other which
can have relation to this subject; and with a bare allusion to
these I shall conclude this discourse.  The first is, that of encouracgement. There is one Agent who can accomplish all that is
needful to be accomplished in our salvation; and if the sinner
perishes, it will not be because he who is entrusted with the
work of changing the heart is deficient in power.  There is no
heart so hard, that it may not be subdued; none so proud, that
it may not be humbled; none so wicked, that the Holy Spirit
cannot make it holy.  What man cannot do, he can accomplish;
and in our conscious weakness and sinfulness, therefore, we may
feel that he has power to effect in our souls all that need be
effected to secure our salvation.  The other conclusion which
follows from  the view that has been taken is, that there is an
obligation resting on man in regard to this change.  If it were
in all respects like creating a world, or like raising the dead;
or if, in any sense, the work of the Spirit were of the nature of
miracle, there would not be any such obligation. Man could be
under no more obligation to love God and repent of sin than he
is to create a new star or sun, or to lift up the tides of the ocean.
But conversion is wholly a different thing. In the whole change
man is a freeman.  He acts in view of truth, and the effect is in
accordance with truth.  His ownc active powers are concerned,
for all the change is on those  powers,-securing their proper
action.  Hlence, there is an ample field for our agency; for our
use of means; for our putting' forth our efforts in the work.
And hence there is true philosophy, as well as an incentive to
exertion, to work, and to trust in God, in the remark so often
made, that man should make the effort for his own salvation
as if it were to be secured wholly by his own power; and yet
depend on the grace and Spirit of the Lord as if he could do
nothing.  Or to express the same thing, and to express all, in
the better language of an inspired apostle, man should "work
out his own salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God that
w-orketh in him both to will and to do of his good pleasure."
May God give us all grace to do it, for Christ's sake, and to him
be all the praise. Amc'n.




SERMON XXi.
THE NATURE OF REPENTANCE.
ACTS xx. 21.-" Testifying both to the Jews, and also to the Greeks, repentance toward God."
PAUL, in the passage before us, refers to the main things on which
he insisted in his preaching.  As a leading point he " testified"
or bore witness to the necessity of exercising repentance toward
God.  The necessity of this he urged on all of the two great
divisions of the human family to whom he had access-the Jews
and the Greekss:-that is, he urged it on all classes alike; on
every human being.  He in reference to whom repentance was to
be exercised was God: "repentance toward God."  It was his
law  which had been violated.  Transgressions in their most
important bearings always terminated on him.  He had a right to
take cognizance of them.  He only could pardon those who had
committed them.  Paul, therefore, in all places laid it down as one
of the primary doctrines of religion, and one of the things essential
to salvation, that every human being should exercise repentance
toward God.
I propose, at this time, to enter on the consideration of the
subject of repentance-a subject occupying a primary place in all
systems of religion which regard man as in any sense a siunner. It
was a primary doctrine in the system  of Lord Herbert, the first
and the best of British Deists; it was the leading doctrine of John
the Baptist-of the Saviour himself-of Paul.  "In those days
came John the Baptist, preaching in the wilderness of Judea, and
saying, Repent ye: for the kingdom of heaven is at lhand," M[att.
iii. 1 2.  "From that time Jesus began to preach, and to say,
Repent: for the kingdom  of heaven is at hand," Matt. iv. 17.
So Paul here says that he had " taught the Ephesians publicly,
and from house to house, testifying repentance toward God."
There are many interesting and important inquliries in regard to
repentance which a minister of religion otuglct to be able to answer.
What is repentamce?  lWhRat is the reason of its appointment as a
condition of salvation?  Why could not men be saved without it?
What is its efficacy in a system of revealed religion?  How is true




274               THE WAY  OF SALVATION.
repentance distinguished from  false?  Why will not that regret
which every man feels when he has done wrong be sufficient for salvation, even though he should not embrace the gospel? These and
kindred inquiries always occur to thinking minds when the subject
of repentance is suggested; and on these I propose to submit some
views which I trust will show the reason of the place assigned to
it in a system of revealed religion.
The first question which presents itself is, What is repentance?
To that inquiry I intend at present to confine my remarks.  The
views which I entertain of the nature of repentance, I will express
in a few propositions, which I trust will make it plain to all.
I. Repentance, in general, is a state of mind which springs up in,
view of perceived personal guilt.  I say C" in general," because I
wish under this head to describe it as a mere mental operation
experienced by all men, or as it exists in the mind of every one
when he is made sensible of wrong-doing. Every man experiences
repentance of some kind.  If he did not, you could not define it
so that lie could understand it, any more than you can define
colours to a blind man, or harmony to the deaf. The peculiar nature
of evacngelical repentance will be the subject of a distinct proposition.  The inquiry now  before us is, What is repentance as a
mental operation, distinguished from other mental operations?
The proposition which I have laid down is, that it is a state of
mind which springs up in view of perceived personal guilt.  Let
us analyze this, and see whether we cannot find here all the
essential elements of which the mind is conscious when it exercises
repentance.
(1.) It is in view of perceived guilt.  I mean that the mind
must perceive or see that it has done wrong.  You must see that
something has been done or omitted for which you are blameworthy.  The mind cannot repent without this.  It never does.
You cannot make a mani repent for the colour of his hair, or for
having a deformed limb, or for a natural impedim-ent in his speech,
however much he may regret its existence, or seriously feel its
disadvantage. In relation to an action which a nman performs, you
cannot make him repent unless he perceives that it is wronlg, and
that he deserves blame for it.  If he esteeims what he has done to
be riqrht, all arguments are vain to induce him  to exercise
repentance.  Your appeals are powerless as long as he does not
see that he is blameworthy for what he has done. If he thinks
that circumstances justified what he has done, though others may
think that it was wrong; if his mind is so little enlightened that
he does not know what was right or wrong iin the case; if he is
fo debased by vice, or superstition, or ignorance, that his moral




TIHE NATURE OF REPENTANCE.                    275
perceptions are blunted and paralyzed, you may labour in vain to
awaken in his bosom the feelings which constitute repentance.
If, for instance, he has killed a man, and is conscious that he did
it in self-defence, however much he may regret the necessity of
the act, while he retains the belief that it was justifiable and right
you can never excite in his bosom the feelings of repentance.
(2.) The second thing in my statement of what constitutes
repentance in general is, that it must be in view of personal guilt.
I mean by this, that a man cannot repent for the act of another.
Repentance always has metes and bounds, and is always limited
by what we ourselves deserve. There is no other guilt but that
which is personal; and you can never make a man feel any other.
The human mind has been so created that it can repent for no
other: and every theory formed on the supposition that one man
can repent for the sin of another, and every instance in which a
man has attempted to persuade himself that he has done it, must
be false. The soul of man has not been made in a manner so
loose, and so regardless of laws, that either of these things is
possible.  You may regret what another man has done; you may
suffer on account of it in person, in property, in health, or in your
family; you may weep over it all your life, but you do not repent
of it.  The son of an intemperate father has abundant occasion to
regret the career which his father has pursued.  It may have
deprived him  of property which he would otherwise have inherited; it may have made him  the early victim  of disease; it
may have subjected him to the passionate outbreaks of one who
has been made a madman by intoxication; it may have separated
him from the respectable society which he might otherwise have
enjoyed; it may have prevented his acquiring an education, and
preparing himself for honourable usefulness; it may have compelled
him to enter on life every way under disadvantage, and many a
time lie may have wept over it, but it is an abuse of language to
say that he has ever repented of it. Between his feelings, deep
and pungent as they may be, and what they would have been if
he had been himself the drunkard, there is a line which is never
crossed; and God has so made the human soul that it never can
be crossed.  So of the shame which an erring daughter may bring
on a famtily  so of the deep sorrow which invades the soul when
a son is reckless and abandoned.  The blood which mantles your
cheek then, is made to mount there by a different law from that
which diffuses the shame and sorrow  of repentance when you
yourself have done the wrong.-The principle which I am here
laying down is universal. Your our own mind can never exercise
repentance for what another has done, nor can repentance with you




276              THE  VWAtY  OF SALVATION.
be connected with any of his acts, except so far as he is your
agent, or you have authorized him  to act in your place, and then
the repentance is not for what he does, but for what you did in
appointing him.  That class of theologians who suppose that it is
the duty of men to repent of the sil of Adam, advance a dogma
which is against all the laws of the human mind; and they who
work themselves up into a belief that they do repent for what
he did thousands of years before they had any being, however
amiable their tears may be, and however their sorrows may assume
the semblance of piety, must be ignorant of the nature of their
own mental operations. That they may regret what he did; that
they may mourn over the ravages of sin introduced by his guilty
act, no one can doubt;-that they should repent of what he or any
other man ever did, the laws of our nature render impossible.  A
man can as properly take to himself credit for the virtuous
deeds performed by another, and claim  a reward for them, as
exercise repentance for his vices and his follies.
(3.) The third thing which is implied in my statement is, that
repentance is a state of mind which springs up by a law of our
nature when our personal guilt is perceived.  What I mean is,
that when it exists at all, it is originated by this law.  I will not
say that repentance always infact exists when guilt is perceived,
for I know that it is possible for a man by an effort of will, or
under the influence of some strong perverted purpose, to oppose
the regular operations of the laws of his own mind, and to resist
conclusions which the fair exercise of reason would reach if there
were no perversion and no opposition. Such may be the stubbornness of his will, such the determination not to see a certain result
in a process of reasoning, that he may set aside the clearest
testimony; and evidence, which according to the laws of his nature
ought to make a deep impression on him, may in fact make none,
while evidence which may in fact have no real force, may seem to
him " strong as proof of holy writ."  So, I admit, it may be in
regard to repentance.  It is possible that a man may perceive his
guilt, and yet may hold his mind in stern resistance to the laws
which would lead him  to repentance.  IHe may resolve not to
feel; not to weep; not to make confession; not to allow the usual
marks of guilt to be depicted in the eye, the cheek, the frame.
IIe may even tremble under the consciousness of guilt, and yet
resolve not to abandon his course, though to persevere in it may
require him to drive his purposes over all the finer feelings of his
nature.
What I mean is, that where repentance does exist, it springs up
in accordance with one of the regular laws of our nature. It is




TIHE NATURE OF REPENTANCE.                     277
not the object of creative power.  It is not brought a.bout by the
agency of God irrespective of the laws of the mind.  It is not the
operation of the Divine Matind.  It is our own mind that repents;
our own eyes that shed forth tears; our own hearts that feel;
our own souls that resolve to do wrong no more.  God cannot
repent for us; nor can lie produce repentance inl us in any other
way than by causing our own minds to perceive their personal
guilt, and by some agency securing the proper action of the mental
laws which he has ordained.
As this is a point of great importance on the question whether
men are bound to exercise repentance, and whether they are able
to do it, it is desirable that it should be made as clear as possible.
I would observe, then, that this is a matter of plain common sense,
and would be clear to all men if it had never been mystified by
theologians.  All men understand the nature of repentance.  All
understand how it springs up in the mind.  All have experienced
it a thousand times.  You cannot find a person who at some time
has not exercised repentance.  You cannot find a child, who, if he
should look into his own mind, would need to be told what is
meant when he is required to repent for having done a wrong
thing; and in the emotions of a child when he feels sorrow that he
has done wrong, and resolves to make confession of it and to do so
no more, you have the elements of all that God requires of man in
repentance as a condition of salvation.  You recollect your own
feelings when a child. You broke the commands of a father. His
law was plain; his will was clear. When the deed was performed,
you reflected on what you had done. You saw that his command
was right; that you had done wrong by breaking his law, and had
incurred his displeasure. He had always treated you kindly; his
precepts had never been unreasonable, and you could not justify
yourself in what you thad done.  By a law of your nature-a law
which you did not originate, though its operations you might have
checked and controlled-you felt pain and distress that you had
done the wrong.  That feeling of distress sprang up in the mind
as a matter of course, and without any perceived foreign agency, and
you resolved that you would go and confess the fault, and would
be guilty of the wrong no more.  This is repentance; and tllis is
the whole of it. You have a friend. He has a thousand times, and in
a thousand ways, laid you under obligation. He has helped you in
pecuniary distress; shared your losses; attended you in sickness;
defended your reputation when attacked.  He himself in turn
suffers.  Wicked men defame his character, and in an evil hour
your mind is poisoned, and you join in the prevalent suspicion
and error in rewaard to him, and give increased currency to the




278               THIE WAY  OF  SALVATION.
slanderous reports.  Subsequently you reflect that all this was
wrong; that you acted an ungrateful part; that you suffered your
mind to be too easily influenced ill forgetting your benefactor, and
that you have done him great and lasting injury.  You are pained
at the heart. Then spring up in the soul, by a law of your nature,
l)itter feelings of regret for what you have done; and you resolve
that you will go to him  and relieve your own mind, and do hlin
justice, by making confession; that you will implore forgiveness;
that you will endeavour as far as possible to undo the evil, and
that you will never repeat the wrong again.  This is repentance;
and this is the whole of it.  Let these simple elements be transferred to God and to religion, and you have all that is included
in repentance.  Be as honest toward God as you have been many
a time toward a parent or a friend; suffer the laws of your nature
to act as freely and with as little obstruction towards your Maker,
as you have done in your treatment of your fellow-beings, and
you will have no difficulty on the subject.  You will see that
repentance, as a leading doctrine of all religion, is neither arbitrary
nor unreasonable.  The difficulty is, that when you approach
religion you are determined  to find something unintelligible,
severe, and harsh, and you  at once suppose that God in his
arrangement there is arbitrary and unkind.
(4.) If the views thus far exhibited are well-founded, then they
will do much in explaining the nature of the Divine agency in
producing repentance.  It is true that there is an important sense
in which he is the Author of it.  It was true, as the disciples said
when Peter visited Cornelius, and saw the effects of the gospel on
his mind, that " God had granted to the Gentiles repentance unto
life," Acts xi. 18. It is true that the Lord Jesus was exalted "to be
a Prince and a Saviour, for to gfive rep)entance to Israel, and forgiveness of sins," Acts v. 31. But it is also true that the Divine Mind
does not repent for us.  It is true that repentance is not created
by mere physical power.  It is true that the nature of the Divine
agency is not to produce it independently of the laws of the mind
itself, and of the efforts of the soul.  It is your own mind that is
to repent; your own heart that is to feel; your own tongue that
is to make confession; your own soul that is to resolve that you
will do wron-g no more.  The effect of the Divine agency, if I
understand it, and if the views already suggested are correct, is
to bring truth blefore the mind; to make the mental vision clear,
so that it shall be perceived; to remove the obstructions to the
foair operations of the mental laws, and repentance follows as a
matter of course.  And in like manner when he covmmands men to
repent, it is not a command to create emotions in their souls by an




THE NATURE OF REPENTANCE.                        279
act of their own will;, to originate feeling by merely resolving to
do it:-it is, to allow their minds to act according to their nature;
to permit guilt, when perceived, to produce its legitimate effect
on the soul; to be as honest towards him, as they expect their
children to be towards themselves.  He presumes that every man
understands the nature of repentance; and that all that is required
is, to secure the fair operation of the mental laws which he has
ordained.
II. In the second place, evangelical repentance, or repentance as
connected with true religion in the soul, is a state of mind which
arises from the 2erception that all sin is committed against God.
My meaning is, that when true repentance exists, the primary and
main ground of the sorrow is, that the crime has been committed
against him; that his law has been violated; that he has been
offended.  It is not that it is disgraceful in the view  of the
community; it is not that it will be attended with the loss of
favour or popularity among men; it is not that a father, or a child,
or a neighbour has been wrongeld  nor is it that it will be followed
by punishment in this world or the next; —but it is that God
regards it as an evil thing, and that its chief evil is in the fact that
it is a violation of his law.  In cases when wrong has been done
to a human being-to a neighbour, or relative, or stranger-the
chief evil in it, as viewed by a true penitent, is not the injury that
has been done to man, but the wrong that has been done to God. In
true repentance, the wrong that has been done to man may be comparatively forgotten, and the attention fixed with absorbing  and overpowering interest on the crime regarded as an ofience against God.
As this is a point of much importance, and one which is not
very clear to most persons, I propose to show that it is so, and
why it is so.
(a) In my text, repentance is spoken of particularly in its
relation to God:-" testifying repentance toward God."  In the
parable of the prodigal son, the penitent is represented as saying,
I will arise and go to my father, and will say unto him, Father,
I have sinned agailnst heaven, and before thee," Luke xv. 18.
When he came to his father, he said, " Father, I have sinned
against heaven, and in thy sight."  The errors and follies of his
life appeared to have been primarily against heaven; the sins which
he had committed against his father were, in his view, secondary
in the magnitude of their evil to the same offences regarded as
committed against God.  So David, in the fifty-first Psalm, says,
"Against thee, thee only, have I sinned, and done this evil in thy
sight," ver. 4.  And so in 2 Sam. xii. 13, where he refers to the:
same oiffence, he saysv, "I have sinned against the Lord."  We
19




280              THE WAY OF SALVATION.
are not to suppose that the prodigal son was not sensible that he
had been guilty of a great wrong towards his father; but that it was
secondary in the magnitude of the evil as compared with the sin
against God. We are not to suppose that David was not sensible
of the wrong that he had done to Uriah, or to the laws of the
land, or of the injury which his example would do to men. Of
all this, he might have had, and probably did have, the deepest
conviction; but all this, when compared with the magnitude of
the sin as committed against God, was so comparatively trifling,
that he said, " Against thee, thee only, have I sinned, and done this
evil in thy sight."  The mind was turned away from everything
else, and fixed on the amazing offence regarded as committed
against God. In that, the thoughts were absorbed and lost; and
it was that which overwhelmed the soul of the penitent monarch.
These instances are evidently set forth in the Bible as examples
of true repentance; and the design is to show that in genuine
repentance sin is contemplated primarily as committed against
God, and as an evil in his sight. It derives its chief aggravation from that fact, and the principal sorrow of the soul is, that
he has been offended.
(b) I proposed to explain to you why this is so, and show that
it is reasonable that it should be so.  When we attempt to
show that this is the nature of repentance, and when we urge
you to regard all your sins as deriving their main aggravation from the fact that they are committed against God, there
is often a feeling which arises in the mind that this is unjust.
You have wronged a neighbour. You see the evil; confess it;
ask his forgiveness; obtain it: and why is not that the end
of it?  The injury was done to him; it has been repaired:
why is not that all  Why should it be carried up before God?
Above all, why should your main distress of mind be not that
your neighbour was wronged, but that God was offended? You
violate the command of a parent. You reflect on it; regret it;
confess it; are forgiven. Why is not that all?  It was in the
domestic circle; it was known nowhere else; the wrong has been
repaired; the breach has been healed. Why is not that an end of
it?  Why should you be required to make another "issue" in
regard to it, and go over, with all the sorrows of repentance, and
the humiliation of a confession, before another being-making a
double confession necessary for a single offence, and leaving nothing
done till he is pacified?  What if in childhood you had a quarrel
with another boy, and had " made it up," and then another person
should come in and should demand that you should make it up
with him also?




THE NATURE OF REPENTANCE.                      281
To explain this, I will submit to you a few remalrks:(1.) There is a kind of repentance which arises from the contemplation of a wrong regarded as committed against man.  That
is the common form in which it exists in the world, and that we
have all experienced.  A neighbour has been wronged by you.
You see it, confess it, and obtain his pardon, and the matter
between you and him  is settled.  You have done all that you
could to repair the evil; he professes to be satisfied, and it would
now be wrong for him to insist on anything further, or to allow
this to affect his future treatment of you.  But does this do anything towards settling the matter between you and God?  That
is wholly another thing, and should be made the most important
thing.  Your neighbour is not in the place of God; nor is he
authorized to act for him; nor can he take upon himself to forgive
the offence as committed against him.  Two boys have a quarrel.
One is greatly in the wrong, and greatly injures the other.  When
the deed is committed, he sees the wrong, regrets his passion,
goes and makes humble confession, and is forgiven.  That settles
the matter so far as they are concerned, and perhaps so far as the
entire group of boys are concerned among whom  it happened.
But there is another view of the case much more important, it
may be, than this; and this hushing up of the quarrel does
nothing in regard to that.  The boy that did the wrong has a
father, and the law of that father has been violated.  He told him
not to go to that place.  He commanded him to have nothing to
do with that boy.  He trained him to be gentle, and kind, and
inoffensive; to restrain his passions; to avoid all occasions of
brawls; to honour him; to fear God.  His law now has been
violated; his counsels disregarded; his government despised;
himself; as a father, dishonoured.  The offence which the boy
committed against the other was the act of a moment, produced
under the excitement of passion; it was a single act of wrong:
the offence as committed against a father was a sin against long
and careful training; it involved the whole question whether
the father is to be obeyed or disobeyed, and had a direct bearing
on the whole subject of paternal government.  Now it is clear
that the son, when he has settled the matter with the injured
boy, has done nothing to settle it with his own injured father;
and that the act, as viewed against him, is a much more serious
evil than as viewed against the boy who was directly wronged.
If that son now has true repentance, he will not only be affected
by the offence viewed as committed against his playmate, but he
will feel that there is a much more important matter than this
to be adjusted in his own father's house.




282              THE WAY OF SALVATION.
(2.) This leads me to observe, that on a similar principle the
ofbences which we commit are to he regarded in their direct
relation to those who are immediately wronged, and to their much
higher bearing on God. You do wrong to a neighbour, or brother,
in the church; a wife, a lover, a stranger.  You become sensible
of the wrong, confess it, repair it as far as possible, receive forgiveness, and the matter between you and the offended party is settled.
You give each other the hand, and are friends again. But that does
not affect another and a more important point-the relation of the
offence to God. For illustration of this, there has been no better
case than that of David.  That he had done a great and grievous
wrong to Uriah and his family there can be no doubt.  But could
all that wrong have been repaired, there was another and a much
more important light ill which it was to be viewed. He had violated
two of the positive commands of God.  A professor of religion; a
prince; the head of the covenant-people; a man signally 1favoured
by God; occupying a most\prominent position in the world,-he
had disregarded the law of his Maker, and trampled his statutes
in the dust.  His sin had been public, and of a most aggravated
character; and contemplating all its relations, the offence as committed against Uriah, in comparison with the same sin regarded
as committed against God, was a trifle; and he, therefore, under
the feeling of genuine repentance, cried out, " Against thee, thee
only, have I sinned, and cone this evil in thy sight."
(3.) This suggests, then, another thought in regard to true
repentance.  It may have been often exercised towards your
fellow-creatures whom  you have offended, and you may have
obtained their forgiveness; and still the great matter pertaining
to true repentance may be yet unsettled.  You may have violated
the commands of a parent, and may have repented of it and obtained
his forgiveness; you may have wronged a neighbour, and may
have confessed the wrong and obtained pardon; you may have
been unfaithful in a public trust, and may then have done all
you could to repair the evil considered as an offence against the
laws of society; you may have led the innocent into error or sin,
and then may have done all you could to repair the wrong so far
as they are concerned; and still the most important questions
pertaining to those offences are unaffected.  They all have a relation to God and his government.  They are all to be considered
as violations of his law; as so many wrongs done to him. Nothing
has been done in regard to that matter, nor do you meet either
the primary or the full requirements of repentance until you go
and say,   I have sinned against heaven;" " against thee, thee
only, have I sinned, and done this evil in thy sight."




THE NATURE OF REPENTANCE.                       283
III. In the third place, true repentance, as a part of religion,
involves not only regret for past sin. as an evil in the sight of
God, but a purpose to abandon it and to do it no lmore. This point
is so obvious that it will be necessary to dwell on it only for a
moinent.  It is clear that if there be no such purpose to abandon
the sin, there can be no genuine repentance. If David had intended
to repeat the sin, over which he mourned, as soon as that was forgiven, nothing would be more plain than-that all his sorrow for the
crime would have been hollow and insincere.  His sorrow in that
case could have arisen only from an apprehension of punishment,
and not from any genuine hatred of transgression. Had the prodigal
son made his confession solely with a view to obtain the favour of
his father, and acquire another portion of the estate, intending
then to repeat his acts of ingratitude and profligacy, it is clear
that there could have been no genuine repentance; no regret for
his sin as such.  In all cases of genuine repentance there must be
a purpose to abandon the sin, and not to repeat the wrong.  This
principle, so familiar to us in our treatment of each other, is not
less true in our relations to God. There, also, it is true in its
largest, broadest sense-for all sin is regarded as committed
against him. When one Oman has done wrong to another, all that
he who has been injured can require in order to his extending
forgiveness is, that the offender should make acknowledgment
and restitution for that particular offence.  He could not demandl
that there should be an acknowledgment to him  of all his sins,
nor even that he should change his conduct in regard to others.
But in reference to repentance toward God, it is required that
there should be sorrow for every sin, and an universal purpose to
forsake the ways of transgression.  HIe that cbmes before God
professing to exercise repentance, with a purpose to indulge in
any one sin of any kind, shows that his repentance is as really
false and lollow, as he does who intends to make a confession to
his neighbour for any one act of wrong, and yet purposes to repeat
the offence as soon as he has an opportunity.  No man, therefore,
can be a true penitent who does not intend to abandon all sin.
No.one becomes a true Christian who does not purpose to break
away from  every form  of transgression, and to lead a holy life.
Men who become Christians are indeed imperfect.  They are
liable to fall into sin.  They do many things over which they
have occasion to mourn. But he who professes to become a Christian, intending that this shall he so, purposing to repeat any sin
and then to repent of it, manifestly knows nothing of true repentance, and can have no evidence of piety.  " If I regard iniquity
in my heart, the Lord will not hear me," Psa. lxvi. 18.




284               THE WAY  OF SALVATION.
In view of the thoughts suggested in this discourse, we may
remark, in conclusion,(1.) That as a mere mental operation repentance in religion
does not differ from repentance exercised on other subjects. As
a mere act of mind, repentance toward God does not differ from
repentance as exercised toward an injured parent or friend. How
can it?  The difference is in the object towards which repentance
is exercised, not in the. act of repenting, as a mere exercise of
mind.  Yet repentance, as a mental operation, is easily understood, and all are familiar with it.  Who is there that has never
repented of anything that he has done? Who that has not confessed a wrong?  Who that does not now feel that he has much
to regret in the past, and that there is much which he ought to
confess?  Be as honest toward God as you have been toward a
parent, lover, or friend, and you would have no difficulty on the
subject of repentance.  It would be easy to be understood, and
all your difficulties would soon vanish.  Religion, if this be so,
is not unreal, arbitrary, and impossible; it is a practicable thing,
and it accords with all the laws of the human mind.
(2.) It follows from the views presented, that repentance is not
beyond the proper exercise of the power of man.  Every man
practises it.  Every child repents.  Every one has at different
times felt regret for something that he has done; has made confession; has resolved to transgress no more; has turned from the
evil course.  This is repentance; and no one in such a case has
resorted to any plea that it was impossible, or that it was unreasonable.  No one who has injured a friend; no child who has
violated the command of his father, when he is convinced of the
wrong, and when the duty of proper acknowledgment is pressed
upon him, ever thinks of taking shelter under the plea that
repentance is beyond his power, and that he cannot exercise it.
It is only in religion that we ever hear any difficulty suggested
on the subject; there only that we are told that it is beyond a man's
power, and that we must wait for a Divine influence before it can
be exercised.  But why should it be beyond a man's power in
reference to religion more than anywhere else?  Why easy elsewhere; why impossible here?  The answer is plain.  Men wish
to find an excuse for not repenting; and regardless of any reflections on the character of their Maker, rather than forsake their
sins they charge him  with requiring that which is impossible,
and coolly attempt to satisfy themselves by saying that they have
no power to obey his commands.
(3.) It follows, fiom what has been said, that it is the sinner
who is to repent.  It is not God who is to repent for him-for




THE NATURE OF REPENTANCE.                    285
God has done no wrong. It is not the Saviour who is to repent
for him-for it is not he who has violated the law. It is not the
Holy Spirit who is to repent for him-for how can that blessed
Agent feel such sorrow, or why should he? My impenitent friend,
it is your owvn mind that is to repent; your own heart that is to
feel sorrow; your own feet that are to turn from the evil way;
your own mouth that is to make confession.  I know and am
persuaded that, if it is ever done, it will be by the aid of the
Holy Ghost; but I know equally well that you yourself are to be
the penitent, and that this is a work that cannot be done for you by
another. The mind that has done the wrong must repent. That
very heart that has sinned must feel all the sorrows of repentance
that are ever felt in the case; those very eyes that have looked
with desire on forbidden objects must weep, and must do all the
weeping in the case; and those very lips that have been profane,
or false, or impure, must make confession, and the confession can
be made by them alone.
(4.) Finally, it is right and proper to call on men to repent of
their sins. If they repent when they have wronged a friend, or
violated the law of a parent; if repentance is an operation of the
mind, with which all are familiar; if it is not beyond the proper
reach of the human faculties; and if the sinner himself is actually
to feel sorrow, and to make confession,-then it is right to call
on men to repent of their sins committed against God.  The
gospel, in approaching men, commends itself to their common
sense, and requires of them only that which they themselves see
to be reasonable and proper. It comes to them, and says that they
have sinned against God; that all sin may be regarded as terminating on him, and as a violation of his law; that for that sin
there should be sorrow felt in the heart; that there should be
willingness to go to him and make penitent acknowledgment, and
implore forgiveness; and that there should be a solemn purpose
to repeat the wrong no more.  This is what the gospel demands
of every sinner as a primary and essential condition of salvation.
Is it wrong in its demands? is it unreasonable in its claims?
What less could it ask? And how could it meet the convictions
of your own minds in regard to what may be reasonably required,
if it did not demand this? When we summon you, therefore, to
repentance, we urge the appeal no less by the conviction in your
own minds of what is right, than by the authority of God.




SERMON XXII.
THE RELATION OF REPENTANCE TO PARDON IN THE CHRISTIAN SYSTEM.
ACTS iii. 19.-" Repent ye, therefore, and be converted, that your sins may
be blotted out."
IN the prosecution of the subject of repentance, I proceed now
to consider the question how repentance is of avail in the procuring of pardon; or the relation of repentance to pardon in the
Christian system.
It seems to be admitted on all hands, that repentance under
the Divine administration is connected with the pardon of sin.
Lord Herbert, the leading British Deist, laid down the necessity
of repentance as one of the ten fundamental truths taught by
natural religion; and held it to be indisputable that repentance
would be effectual in securing forgiveness.  This is probably the
sentiment of the great mass of mankind, whether they embrace
the Christian system or not.  As every child feels that if he has
done wrong towards a father he ought to repent of it,-and
argues, and. in general argues justly, that if he truly repents his
father will forgive him, —so men seem  to reason about their
Great Father in heaven.  This opinion is held by the Christian
in connexion with his belief in the merits of the sacrifice of the
Redeemer; in what sense I will endeavour to explain in the
sequel of this discourse.  By others,-by avowed Deists, and by
infidels in every form, and by the mass of men,-the reference
to that sacrifice is excluded; and it is held that mere repentance
without respect to that will be accepted by God, and will secure
the pardon of sin.
The form  in which the doctrine is leld by those who do not
practically embrace Christianity, probably comprises the two
following particulars: first, that repentance for a wrong done
is, under the Divine administration, enough; that is, that the
Divine government is equitable and mild; that God is disposed
to pardon; that when one becomes sensible of a wrong done, it
is all that the Universal Parent will or can require; and that
repentance, therefore, will secure the restoration to Divine favour;
-and, secondly, that in fact they themselves do exercise repentance-all the repentance that can reasonably be demanded.




RELATION OF REPENTANCE TO PARDON.                 287
When they have done wrong, they say, they always regret it.
They are pained at heart.  They are ready to make confession
and restitution as far as is in their power for the wrong doneeven though it was unintentional. They do not recollect an instance, perhaps, in which this has not been done; and if such
an instance could be referred to in their past lives, they would
lay down their book or their pen, or leave their plough standing
in the furrow, and go at once and repair the evil. Thus, they
trust, the account between them and justice is kept substantially
balanced, and they entertain the hope that the Divine mercy
will not be withheld from them in the great day.
These are the principles which prevail where the Christian
doctrine of seeking forgiveness through the merits of Christ is
laid out of view; and the question now is, whether these are
sound principles-or in other words, what is the true relation of
repentance to pardon?  Let us examine the system now referred
to, in which there is undoubtedly some mixture of truth, and see
what is the correct doctrine on the subject. The inquiry will be
conducted by laying down a few connected propositions.
1. It will be agreed on all hands, that under the Divine
administration there is no pardon, in the proper sense of the
term, where there is no repentance. Indeed, if the term pardon,
or its equivalent forgiveness, is ever used, without the correlative.repentance, it is probably employed in a somewhat lax signification; not in its strict and proper sense. When a man who is
in the penitentiary, or who is under sentence of death for murder,
is pardoned by the executive, the term means merely that the
penalty is remitted, or is not executed. There has been in the
bosom of the executive no such feeling exactly as is implied in
the word forgiveness.  His feeling in the case is distinct fiom
that which he would have had if he had been personally wronged,
and he who had wronged him had come and made penitent confession, and he had forgiven him. So when in your heart you
exercise forgiveness towards those who have injured you when
they manifest no repentance —-as the Saviour prayed for his
murderers, "Father, forgive them," the feeling is distinct from
what it is whoen you see them truly penitent, and when in view
of their repentance you declare them  forgiven. You use the
term in a somewhat lax and indefinite sense, as meaning that
you do not harbour malice against them; that you will take no
revenge for what they have done; that you will be ready actually
to pardon them if they will apply to you for forgiveness.
Riepentance and forgiveness, in the proper sense of the terms,
have, in the common apprehensions of men, a very close con



288             THE WAY OF' SALVATION.
nexion. It is a point on which we will all start together in our
inquiry, that there can be no pardon under the Divine government where there is no true repentance. There is no one point
probably about which men would be better agreed than this.
The Deist supposes this; all men suppose it. The hardened man;
the man who never felt one pang of regret that he has done
wrong; the man who wholly justifies his own course; the man
who knows that he has done evil, and who intends to persevere
in it, cannot obtainforgiveness in any proper sense of that term.
He may remain for a long time unpunished, the sentence of the
law may be suspended over him, he may have many comforts
and blessings, and his life may be filled with hilarity and joy;
but it would be an abuse of language to say that he was forgiven or pardoned. If he ever obtains pardon, in the proper sense
of that term, it must be somehow in connexion with his exercising sorrow for what he has done. This, then, is a fundamental
principle in all religions. It is a point on which Christians and
all other men must agree. Wherever it leads us, we here start
together.
II. My second proposition is, that mere repentance of itself
will not repair an evil which you have done, and on account of
which you feel compunction.  Sin, or wrong done, produces evils
which no mere regret on the part of him who has done it can
repair. It is not an universal truth that regret or compunction
on the part of the offender will put away the evil, and restore
matters to the condition in which they were before the wrong
was done.
This truth is perhaps sufficiently plain in itself without any
further illustration; but as it is the dividing point between
Christianity and other systems; as it is very material in understanding the relation of repentance to pardon; and as it is an
important fact in the character of the Divine administration,it is of moment that it should be further illustrated.
It is an essential position in the view which one takes who
rejects the doctrine of the atonement, and who denies its necessity in order that repentance can be of avail, that " when men
have transgressed the Divine commands, repentance and amendment of life will place them in the same situation as if they had
never offended." *
Now, is this so?  Is it a correct principle in regard to the
Divine administration? Is it one that is sustained by the course
of events? Will repentance and reformation of themselves arrest
the course of things consequent on transgression, and prevent'* Magee on the Atonement, p. 19.




RELATION OF REPENTANCE TO PARDON.               289
any further suffering or punishment on account of it? Let us
look a moment at facts in the case, and see what repentance
will and will not do.
(a) In the common occurrences of life, does the man who by
intemperance and voluptuousness has injured his character, his
fortune, and his health, find himself instantly restored to the
enjoyment of those blessings, on repenting of his past conduct,
and resolving on future amendment?  The answer plainly is, he
does not. Repentance, even the bitterest remorse, will not do it.
It will not at once bring back the fortune that has been lost by
gambling; nor will it at once restore the bloated and diseased
frame of the voluptuary to "the freshness of a child's."  Nor
will it arrest at once the pain and anguish of body and mind,
and the disgrace which may have been engendered by the evil
course. These travel on beyond the moments of repentance, and
meet a man perhaps far on his way beyond the period when he
penitently forsook the path of transgression. It is true, indeed,
that repentance is one of the indispensable ways by which these
evils are to be arrested, and that, as a consequence of that, a man
may be restored to prosperity, to the possession of property, and
to honour. But this does not occur at once. It is to be a gradual
process. It will be by slow and toilsome steps. Not one cent
of lost property will repentance at once bring back; not one
pang of disease produced by voluptuous living will it at once
arrest. By sober and persevering toil, the man of wrecked and
ruined fortune may become rich again; by the proper care of
his health, the ravages of disease may be arrested, and he may
yet be blessed with length of days, but not by any miraculous
or sudden effect of repentance.
(b) Will repentance repair the wrong that you have done to
others, and place things in the same situation in which they
were before? In some respects it may. The property which
you stole, you may restore; the trespass which you committed
may be paid for by a full equivalent.  But will it recall a
murdered man from  the grave? Will it restore innocence to
the ruined victim  of hellish arts?  Will it undo the wrongs
which you have done to a mother and her children by making
their father an inebriate?
(c) Will repentance at once arrest the evils of a youth wasted
in folly and vice?  It may indeed make you industrious and
plodding and virtuous at twenty-one, and ever onward. But
will it recall the hours which you have wasted at the card-table,
or in the company of the idle and the worthless, or in absolute
indolence, or in building castles in the air, or in following after




290             TrrE WAY OF SALVATION.
wild and illusive vagaries of the mind?  It may enable you to do
something hereafter; but it will not repair the past, and through
the longest life you will suffer disadvantage from the want of
what you might have acquired in the wasted days of your youth.
(d) Will repentance obliterate the pain which you have caused
others by your misconduct?  It may do much in many cases to
effect this; perhaps in some cases it may remove it all. A frank
and full confession, the expression of deep and genuine sorrow,
nmay in some instances wholly arrest and remove the anguish of
heart felt by a father or a mother in view of your ingratitude and
disobedience. But will it always do this?  Is it the universal
law?  Alas, that father's locks may have been turned prematurely grey by your misconduct; and no penitence of yours can
make one hair black again.  Or the broken-hearted parent may
be now in the grave, crushed to the earth and consigned to the
tomb by the ingratitude and follies of a son; and no penitence
of yours can bring him  up again to the cheerful light of the
living. Look over the past.  How  small a part of those to
whom you have done wrong, who have been injured or pained
by you, are now within your reach! To how few of them could
you make confession and reparation if you should try! Part are
in their graves. Part are in distant lands. Part scattered over
your own country. Here, the wrong struck a parent's heart;
there, the heart of a sister; there, the heart of a wife-all now
dead. Here, it planted a poisoned arrow  in the bosom  of a
friend, and he is now far away. There, it reached a benefactor,
and he is gone, you know not where. And there, the memorial
of it is seen in the bowed form of a father, and how can you
make his frame erect again, and restore to him the lustre of his
earlier years?
These are plain principles; and they show us that repentance,
however genuine and bitter, will not at once arrest the consequences of an evil course, and restore things to the condition in
which they were before. There are things which remain to be
adjusted under the operation of God's moral government, which
are not affected by the mere fact of repentance. The relation of
repentance to pardon, therefore, is not that it necessarily arrests
the evil, and prevents all future suffering on the account of sin
in this world. And how can he who rejects revelation, and the
evidence there furnished of pardon, prove that it will arrest all
these evils at any period of his existence?  What will it do
to repair the evils done to a murdered man; to an injured father,
mother, or sister; to those inveigled into error or crime who
may now be in their graves?  The grand principle which I seek




RELATION OF R1EPENTANCE TO PARDON.                  291
to lay down here is, that repentance does not of itself repair the
wron, done; and  that " indemnity is not a consequence of
repentance here." *Can a rejector of revelation prove that it
will be hereafter?  What would be the basis of such an argument?  What "counter-facts" to those which have been stated
are there to show that it is probable it will be so?
III. My third proposition is, that when wrong has been done,
repentance will not do anything to restore to favour), without some
act on the part of him who is offendled and injured.  The whole
matter lies in his bosom, in his will; in that which no power, or
wealth, or influence, or tears, can of necessity control.
Repentance is always in view of a wrong done.  But a wrong
necessarily contemplates two or more persons; for even when
there seems to be but one, by a species of fiction of language we
show that it is essentially supposed there are two.  We sometimes, indeed, speak of a man's woronging himself; doing injustice to himself, as if there were two persons concerned, the one
acting against the other-the man's baser passions acting against
his higher nature: —as when it is often remarked of a man that
"the only enemy he has is himself."  And so we retain the
same fiction of language when we speak of our own follies and
faults, and say that "we cannot forgive ourselves for what we
have done."  Even here we keep up the notion, that as a wrong
it pertains to two.  There must be an act of penitence in the
one, and of pardon in the other, before it can be adjusted.
In all other instances, it is clear that wrong pertains to two
or more parties.  A wrong is something done to another-to his
feelings, character, property, government, family, health, limb,
life, or soul. There are two parties-the injurer and the injured;
the wrong-doer, and the individual, or the corporation, or the
government that has suffered. When a wrong is done, therefore,
it becomes at once an affair pertaining to two or more parties.
It follows, therefore, that when a wrong is done, it is not the
mere act of the one party that will heal it.  There must be a
common or joint action in the case.  The friend who has been
injured must act, as well as he who has injured him; the parent
as well as the child; the government as well as the subject.
It is clear, also, that whatever may be the feelings or the
action of the one who has done the wrong, there must be some
action or expression on  the part of the injured before the
difficulty is removed.  The sacrifice must not only be brought, it
must be accepted; the recompense must not only be tendered, it
must be received; the confession must not only be made, it must' Ma.ee.




292              THE WAY OF SALVATION.
be admitted to be satisfactory. On the part of the injured and
the wronged, there must be some arrangement made in the case;
some promise; some expression of a readiness to pardon, and to
have the difficulty healed,-and, if he be a moral governor, to
have the penalty remitted,-before he who has done the wrong
canl have evidence that his own arrangement for removing the
difficulty will avail. It would not do for a child to disobey a
parent, and then to make such an acknowledgment in the case
as he himself should please, and demand that that should be
accepted; and as little would it do for him to do wrong presuming on what he supposed to be the clemency of his father in
such a case. Such an arrangement on his own part, and such a
presumption, would do nothing to heal the breach, or to relieve
the difficulty in the case. It will not do to presume on the
character of any one too far. A  child is making a most
hazardous experiment, when he presumes on the forbearance of
even a parent. He is making a most hazardous as well as
wicked experiment, who presumes on the kindness and forbearance of a fiiend, when he provokes or neglects him. A husband
is making a most hazardous, as well as wicked experiment, who
presumes on the patience and forbearance of the most kind and
affectionate wife, by treating her with neglect and want of love.
There is a point beyond which, even if it were right at all, it
will not be safe to presume on the kindness and forbearance of
any one, however kind, or generous, or noble. How far, then,
may a man presume on the kindness and forbearance of God,
about whom he knows so little? How may he know that he
would accept an offering for transgression; that he would receive
the confessions of the lips for having done wrong; that he would
regard with favour even the tears and sighs that would be the
expression of a broken and a contrite heart?
The' real question, then, in all cases where wrong has been
done is, whether there is any act or declaration, on the part of
him to whom the wrong has been done, to which he who has
done it could trust for the certainty of pardon. If you know
enough about his character in any case, that might furnish you
with some, perhaps with a certain ground of hope.  But you
want something more even than that.  You want some act on
his part; some arrangement; some promise.
Now what does the rejector of revelation pretend to here?
According to him, what arrangement has there been on the part
of God to show that repentance will be connected with pardon?
Rejecting as he does, systematically and on principle, all revelation, what does he pretend to rely on that will furnish such




RELATION OF REPENTANCE TO PARDON.                293
assurance? That it may be so may be true; but does he know it?
How can he know it?  How can he know anything about it?
The mere fact of repentance is certainly no evidence of pardon;
for millions have repented of a wrong who never have been
forgiven; and the mere fact that a wrong-doer experiences
remorse is no evidence that he who has bben wronged will be
disposed to forgive.
Here then, again, we part with the rejector of revelation.
We, who profess to believe in the Christian system, suppose that
God has made an arrangement on this very subject, and has
made it known to us in his word. We not only profess to know
what repentance is, and to presume that the injured and the
wronged in the case will be disposed to accept of the expressions
of penitence, but we profess to have, what the case demands, a
statement from him on this very point, which relieves the whole
difficulty, and which assures us that in connexion with repentance
our sins will be blotted out. We have, then, what is requisite
when two parties are concerned,-as there always are when
wrong is done; we have the statement of the one who is injured,
that repentance on the part of the other will be followed by
forgiveness. There is but one question which remains to be
asked on the subject to fill up the argument, and to give us
information of all which it is needful for us to know. It is, in
what way it is consistent for God to do this; or what is the
arrangement by which it is done. This is not indeed absolutely
necessary for us to know,-since if we offend another it is
sufficient to be assured that he regards it as consistent for him
to forgive, and the fact that he will do it is really all we need;
but still there would be an advantage in being made acquainted
with the method by which it is done if we could. It might
give us some enlarged views of his character; it might enable
us more to admire the plan.
IV. This leads me, then, to the statement of a fourth proposition, that the exercise of repentance is made available and efficacious in the case, through the atonement made by the Saviouror in virtue of his death regarded as a sacrifice for sin.  The
exercise of repentance in connexion with the atonement meets
all the necessary conditions of pardon, and is the only plan
which does.  The meaning is, that the death of Christ as a
sacrifice has done so much to repair the wrong done by sin, that
now pardon may consistently follow repentance. Two or three
remarks, I trust, will make this clear.
First, as already observed, in all cases where repentance is
proper, a wrong has been done-an injury has been the result of




294              THE WAY OF SALVATION.
that which causes repentance; since if there is no wrong, no
injury, there is no occasion of repentance in any case. But
mere sorrow or regret. on your part, however urgent or protracted, does nothing to remove that wrong, or repair that
injury; and the wrong must be in some way repaired before
repentance can be satisfactory.  A simple case will make this
clear. A  father, in moderate circumstances, sends his son to
college, away from home. The father has just the means of
maintaining him there by meeting the ordinary and necessary
expenses-and no more.  He gives his son repeated and solemn
charges on the subject of economy in his expenditure, assuring
him that he can only meet term-bills and the expenses of living
on a prudent scale. In particular, he charges him not to enter
a certain house of entertainment, though entirely respectable,
and though kept by a man every way respectable.  Solely on
the score of necessary economy, he enjoins this duty on him,
and makes it a point of absolute command. At the end of the
year a large bill, wholly beyond his power to meet, is sent to
him from that prohibited house. The son confesses the wrong,
expresses regret, and asks for pardon. Is there nothing to be
done in the case but simply to forgive him  on that confession?
True, it may be that the worthy man who sent the bill had no
authority to trust a minor, and that the father might not be
legally bound in the matter; but there is the sentiment of honour
strong in the father, and equally strong in this respect in the
son;-and what is to be done?  It is out.of the question for the
father to pay; and the existence of that very debt operates to
prevent any arrangement between the father and the son on the
question what is to be done for his wilful disobedience. Unless
the worthy creditor will forgive the debt, which he cannot
afford to do, and cannot well be asked to do, it seems to be a
barrier in the way of reconciliation between the father and the
son, which cannot be overcome.  If, however, some friend of
ample means, seeing the difficulty, and hoping that a generous
act on his part might have a good effect on the young man
himself-obviously in danger of being a spendthrift, and ruining
himself by dissipation-should volunteer to pay the bill, itlt
part of the difficulty would be removed, and the way would be
entirely open for the negotiation to proceed between the father
and the son.  If the evidence of repentance were satisfactory,
there would then be no other obstacle to his being forgiven —and it might even be hoped that good would come out of the
whole affair-perhaps even more good in the end, than if it had
not happened at all.  At all events, it would be felt and owned




RELATION OF REPENTANCE TO PARDON.                   295
by all parties, that the complete reconciliation consequent on
repentance was made effective by the interposition of the friend,
and that but for this, there was no way in which it could have
occurred so well, if at all. Now it is conceivable that the act of
the friend might be known only to the jcSiher, and that all that
the son might know about it might be the mere declaration of
the father that he would forgive him, and that in some way lhe
had arranged the debt.  Still, it would have a better moral
influence on his mind that he should know all about it-especially
if the friend had been himself at some considerable self-denial in
doing what hle had done.
Secondly, repentance is connected with pardon, because it is in
close connexion with that which is designed to be an expression
of the evil of the sin; with that which is done to repair the evil
and the wrong. Mly regret and sorrow  show  my conviction
that the price that was paid, or the suffering that was endured,
to repair the wrong, was deserved by me.  I express my regret
mainly in view of that, and regard that as an exponent of the
measure of my ill-desert.  The ancient penitent led his victim to
the altar, laid his hands on his head, confessed his sin, and
the victim  was slain —the penitent acknowledging  that he
deserved to die.  We approach by faith the Great Victim  that
was slain for sin; confess our transgressions before him; lay our
hands on his head; and confess that the stroke that descended
on him was deserved by us; that his sufferings were an exponent
of our guilt.
Thirdly, in such cases, repentance is connected with a promise,
an assurance on the part of God, that he will forgive.  We have
seen in the former part of this discourse, that a wrong pertains to
two parties, and that the action of each is necessary in order to
forgiveness.  The action of the offended and injured party in
this case-God-consists in the arrangement which he has made
in order that pardon may be consistent with his justice, and in
the assurance that it may be obtained by repentance.  The
Christian religion is the only one that is characterized by a
promise or pledge on the part of the Deity; and there is no
promise of pardon  made to men  except in connexion with
repentance, and none even then except in view  of the great
Sacrifice made on the cross. Every other kind of religion is
conjecture-fancy-poetry-or, if it will be more agreeable to
have it dignified with a higher term, the deduction of reason.
No other system, however, makes pretensions to a promise of the
forgiveness of sins.  In the Christian scheme, repentance avails
to procure pardon because God has himself made all the arrange20




296              THE WAY OF SALVATION.
ments on his part to make pardon consistent and proper; and
because, in view  of these arrangements, he has expressed a
willingness to receive the penitent again to his arms.
The conclusions to which we have been conducted by the
arguments in this discourse are these:(1.) That there is no certainty in regard to the forgiveness of
sins in Deism, in Infidelity, in Heathenism.  There is no evidence
that any promise is made in either of them  that sins may be
forgiven even on the bitterest repentance; there is no evidence
that they are so pardoned. No voice from  heaven announces
the fact that they may be forgiven; no voice declares that they
are. The weeping and broken-hearted penitent is greeted with
no assurance that iis sins are blotted out; nor can he prove
that the paternal arms of the Deity are extended to embrace
him.  All is conjecture; all is uncertainty; all is destitute of
that which we need when we feel that we have done wrongfor then our crushed and suffering hearts cry out for evidence
that we may be pardoned; for some kind, consoling word that
we may be, that we are forgiven.
(2.) The hopes of Infidelity are a, iolation of the principles
which the infidel himself is oblig,( I it lld. He must hold, he
does hold, that repentance does not ic,.a;i. 1he evils which sin
makes in the actual course of events; tiha  it does not restore
the property of the drunkard, or the gambler, or the spendthrift; that it does not give vigour and length of days to the
frame enervated by dissipation; that it does not recall the
murdered from the grave; that it does not bring back the hopes
of youth wasted in folly; that it does not necessarily secure
forgiveness from an injured parent or friend. And yet, in the
very face of all these things, he holds that repentance, without
anything else, is all that is necessary to turn away the wrath of
God, and to arrest the evils caused by the violation of his law.
He holds that a sigh, a groan-though on the death-bed-is all
that is needful to make it certain that the long, black catalogue
will be blotted out, and that his soul will be landed safe in
heaven.  Why does he hold this?  What promise has he?
Where does the analogy of nature sustain him P Where-where
are the facts on which he builds such a hope?
(3.) Christianity is the only form of religion that addresses
words of consolation to the broken-hearted penitent.  It is the
only religion that approaches man with a promise from heaven.
It accords with the analogy of nature so far as to teach that
man must be penitent if he would hope for pardon; and then, when
nature leaves us as a guide, it takes up the matter and shows us




RELATION OF liEPENTANCE TO PARDON.                 297
how and why it may be done.  It comes to man with an assurance
that God now will accept the confessions and tears of the contrite
in heart, and that the offender may be restored to favour.
It meets us just where we want to be met; just at the point
where our embarrassment is greatest. We are weeping, suppose,
over our sins. We have been led to reflect on them, and to see
their evil, and to desire pardon; we are in that state of mind in
which the Heathen are, and which the system of the Deist contemplates. But just here is the point of our greatest perplexity.
"We stand and weep.  We have no doubt of the evil of our
wrong-doing-of our ill-desert. We cast our eyes around to see
what is the effect of repentance; to see what it does to repair
evils done, or to arrest the effects of depravity.  It does nothing
such as we want it to do.  It restores no wasted property or
health; recalls none from  the grave; heals no heart that is
broken and crushed; raises up no form  that has been bowed
down by the ingratitude of a child; makes no hair black and
glossy that has been whitened by grief.  We stand perplexed,
and ask, what evidence is there that repentance will arrest the
progress of evil at all, and that it will stay the woes that we
fear are coming upon us for our crimes?  Just there-where we
want it-Christianity approaches us. It tells us that it is true
that in the ordinary course of events repentance does not
immediately arrest the progress of evil, and repair the ravages
which it has made; but that an arrangement has been effected
by which this shall be ultimately done, and that the arrangement shall commence at once in regard to.us, by the assurance of
forgiveness, and by the imparting of peace to the soul-a pledge
of the truth of its message. Now this is what we want.  It
meets us at the very point where we need it.  It is a beam of
light coming down where all is dark; it sheds peace on a soul
where all was perplexity and trouble.
It is in accordance, then, with what he needs, when we exhort
the penitent to go to God; to confess his sins; to look up to
him through the Great Sacrifice made on the cross for man, for
pardon.  Such an exhortation. meets the obvious wants of our
nature, and should lead every guilty man at once up to God; and
in executing my commission in addressing the guilty and the dying,
I would earnestly entreat each one of you in view of what has been
said, to go to the God against whom he has sinned, and confess
his transgressions, and plead for mercy.  " Repent, and be converted, that your sins may be blotted out."




SERION XXIII.
THE PHILOSOPHICAL NECESSITY OF REPENTANCE.
LUKE xiii. 3, 5.-"Except ye repent, ye shall all likewise perish."
TIu  reference in this declaration, twice repeated by the Saviour,
is to those Galileans who were put to death by Pilate while
offering their sacrifices, and to those persons in Jerusalem  on
whom the tower of Siloam fell. They were supposed, by those
who brought their case before the Saviour, to have been punished
in this way for their uncommon guilt.  He corrects that misapprehension, and takes occasion to state to those who had
addressed him, that unless they repented, they should all likewise
perish.  The meaning is, not that they would perish in the
same manner, but that they would as certainly perish.  There
was no way of avoiding that which was fairly implied in the
word perish, but by repentance.  The Saviour has, therefore, in
this passage, strongly affirmed the necessity of repentance in
order that men may be saved from destruction.
In the two previous discourses I have considered the nature
of repentance, and its relation to pardon in the Christian system.
I enter now on a consideration of its necessity as a condition of
salvation.
In the Scriptures there are two indispensable conditions of
salvation prescribed-repentance and faith.  The inquiry is at
once suggested to a reflecting mind, why these two things are
selected as the essential conditions of salvation, or why the
question of eternal life and death is made to turn on the fact
that they do or do not exist in the mind. Why has God selected
these two states of mind, rather than any other two, as constituting the basis on which we are permitted to hope for his
favour?  The inquiry has more difficulty, perhaps, in reference
to jfith than to reJpentance; but still, no one can help asking
why God has made repentance indispensable to salvation P  Is
the appointment arbitrary, or is it demanded by some law of
our nature?  Is it because he chose to specify some condition,
though in a manner immaterial what,-like the selection of one
tree out of many trees in Paradise,-as a test of man's obedience;
or will repentance so meet the evils that are in the soul as to




PHILOSOPHICAL NECESSITY OF REPENTANCE.   299
make it proper to demand this as a condition of salvation? Is
it the mere appointment of will on the part of God, or is there
something existing in our own hearts and lives to be affected by it,
which makes it impossible that we should be saved, in any proper
sense, without it?
In connexion with these questions of a philosophical character,
there is another class of a somewhat more practical kind. Why,
in reference to salvation, and as a condition of it, has God required us to exercise sorrow of heart, rather than insisted on a
correct moral character as a condition?  Wrould it not be more
worthy of God to make eternal life depend on virtue and benevolence; on honesty and truth; on the faithful discharge of our
duties in the family and in public life, than on any mere state of
the feelings? And why is it that he requires the man of many
years and many virtues, and the youth of great amiableness
and purity, to renounce all confidence in these virtues, and all
dependence on them, and to approach his throne weeping over
the errors of a life? Can he require feigned sorrow? Can there
be virtue in forced and affected tears? Can there be that which
will commend us to Him when a man of uprightness, a man of
honour, a man of truth, shall "bow  down his head like a bulrush," and weep like the vilest sinner?  Why has he made the
path to heaven a path of sorrow at all? Why must we go there
with the head bowed down with grief?  Why has he made the
road a thorn-hecye, and not planted it with roses?  Are there
no joyous emotions that might have been made the conditions
of salvation?  Is there nothing that would make the eye bright,
and the heart cheerful, and the soul glad, that might have been
selected, of at least equal value with pensiveness and a heavy
heart, with melancholy and tears?
Such are some of the feelings which spring up in the minds
of men when we come to urge on them the duty of repentance.
My desire is, if possible, to meet those feelings, and to show that
they are not well-founded.  I shall aim to prove that the requisition of repentance is not arbitrary, but is based on the
nature of things, and that a man MUST REPENT, or PERISH. I
shall endeavour to vindicate the character of God, alike from his
right as a Sovereign to make this a condition, and from the necessity which there is in the nature of things that we should exercise repentance if we would obtain his favour, or enjoy peace.
I. In the first place, God has a right to cappoint terms on which
he will bestow his favours on his creatures.  I'will endeavour to
show you that he has this right.
(1.) It is a common right which all exercise when they have




300              THE WAY OF SALVATION.
favours to confer on others.  A charter for a college or a bank
is thus conferred. A grant of land to an institution of learning
is thus bestowed.  A copyright of a book, or a patent for an
invention in the arts, is thus secured.  A  right of way; a
privilege to construct a bridge or a draw; a "permit" to build
a house or a factory, is thus secured. The right of citizenship,
or the freedom of a city, is thus conferred. All such favours are
connected with conditions expressed or implied; and no one
doubts that a government has the right to specify the conditions
on which the favour may be enjoyed.  It is inherent in the very
fact, that we have that to confer which will be regarded as a
favour or boon by others.  The only thing to guard this, or to
prevent its being oppressive, is to be found in the character of
the government or of the individual who has the power of conferring the favour; and in the fact that the corporation or
individual, on whom  it is proposed to confer it, is under no
obligation to accept it, if it is regarded as unjust; that is, if it is
considered that there would be no advantage in accepting it on
these terms.
(2.) God has actually dealt thus with his creatures in the
bestowment of his favours. He has never relinquished the right
to prescribe to men in everything on what terms his favours may
be enjoyed. He has actually appointed conditions, by compliance
with which alone his favour can be hoped for-conditions as
clear as were ever prescribed in a charter for a college or a bank,
or a patent of nobility made out by a sovereign to a feudal
baron. Life, health, reputation, success in business, are all his
gifts; and he has proffered them  to men only on certain conditions, and those conditions are clearly specified. Heatlh, for
illustration, is in all cases his bestowment; and he has an
absolute right-a right which he is constantly exercising-to
state to man on what conditions of temperance, prudence, care,
and cleanliness it may be enjoyed; and if the man does not
choose to comply with those terms, the blessing will be withheld.
There is no way in which he can originate any other conditions
on which the blessing may be secured, or by which he can
induce God to depart from  these terms in his case by special
favour, and confer the gift by miracle.  Life is his gift, and he
has a right to say on what terms it may be possessed and
enjoyed. Property is thus also his gift, and he has a right to say
how it may be procured and. retained.  Heaven is his home, and
he has a right to say on what terms man may be permitted to
dwell there.  It is his to bestow a harvest on the husbandman,
and equally his to prescribe the conditions on which it may be




PHILOSOPHICAL NECESSITY OF REPENTANCE.  301
done, and to specify as the condition that it shall be by industry,
and by the cultivation of the earth, in the proper season, and in
the proper manner. It is true that man has the power to reject
the conditions-just as a company has power to reject a bankcharter; but it is equally true that if it is done, and the man
prefers to spend the time of sowing and ingathering in idleness,
the favour will be conferred in no other manner. The only
appropriate question to be asked in the case is, whether God has
in fact appointed anything as indispensable conditions of his
favour. That settled, every question on the subject may be
regarded as at rest.
(3.) These remarks are especially true in regard to an offender.
He who violates a law, cuts himself off fiom any claim to favour
under that law; and if he obtains any favour, it must be on
such conditions as the one who is injured or wronged shall
choose to prescribe. You have wronged a friend or a neighbour.
It is clearly not yours now to prescribe the conditions on which
he shall forgive the offence, and receive you to his favour, but
his. A child violates your commands. Do you not feel that
you have a right to prescribe the terms on which he may obtain
forgiveness?  Do you not feel that it is yours to bestow  or
withhold pardon as you please?  You have a professed friend
who has wronged you. The offence is undeniable; it is admitted.
Do you not feel that you have a right to prescribe the terms on
which he may enjoy your friendship again P  And if you should
require that he should express regret, and confess the wrong,
and repair the evil as far as is in his power, would you think
that he had a right to complain of you P  And would you think
it a sufficient answer to such a demand should he say, that such
a requirement is arbitrary, and that you might have selected
some easier conditions, and that you might have planted the
path of return with flowers rather than with thorns?  How
obvious would be the answer, that it is as easy to make the
confession as it was to do the wrony; that the one really injured
in the case is himself, and not you; and that as to the thorns in
the case, he planted them in the path, and not you.
The whole question, therefore, in regard to the necessity of
repentance as a condition of salvation, might be left on this
ground. We might come and say to men, that God has great
favours to bestow on his creatures, but reserves the right to
prescribe the conditions on which they may be received; or that
as one whose law has been violated, he retains the right which
all who are wronged claim, of specifying the conditions on
which pardon may be obtained.  But the object which I had




e(0)2      TTHE WAY OF SALTATION.
particularly in view was not to show that he had a right to
prescribe some condition of his favour, but to show why repentance
is one of those conditions. Is there anything in the nature of
the case which made it proper that this should be selected 
This leads me to remark,
II. In the second place, that repentance is in fact an indispensable condition to restoration to favour when one has done wrong.
It cannot be otherwise. When an offence is committed, when
wrong is done, when a law has been violated, there is no way
by which the forfeited favour can be regained in any case but
by that which is implied in true repentance;-by a process
involving all the elements of grief, regret, confession, confusion
of face, and purpose to abandon the evil course, which are
included in repentance toward God. The place from which the
offender fell is never regained but by contrition; the path by
which he must ascend to that lost height is a pathway of tears.
If this be so, it will be seen that God, by requiring repentance
as a condition of his returning favour, is acting in accordance
with the great principles on which the world is in fact governed.
That it is so, will, I trust, be made plain by a few  simple
illustrations.  I shall vary the illustrations, though with some
hazard of repetition, because I wish to show you that this is the
way in which the affairs of this world are conducted.
Let us return again to the case of a father. Your child
violates your law; offends you; is guilty of palpable disobedience.
He is so old that he can be treated as a moral agent, and is
capable of acting under a moral government.  He has cone
much to forfeit your favour, and to incur your displeasure.  He
has become the companion of the dissipated and the vile; and
with such associates has wasted the fruit of your toil. Towards
that son you will cherish still the feelings of a father; but I may
appeal to any such unhappy parent to say, whether he could
admit him to the same degree of confidence and favour as before,
without some evidence of repentance. You demand that he
should express regret for his errors and follies; you require
evidence, that will be satisfactory to you, that he does not intend
to do the same thing again; you expect proof that he will be
disposed by a virtuous life to repair, as far as possible, the injury
that he has done your name and your honour as a father; and
the moment you hear him sincerely say, " Father, I have sinned
against heaven, and before thee, and am  not worthy to be
called thy son," that moment you are ready to go out, and to
throw your arms round his neck, and to forgive him-AND NOT
TILL THEN. You could not do it consistently with self-respect;




PHILOSOPHICAL NECESSITY OF REPENTANCE.  303
with the good of your own family; with the character which
you mean to maintain as a father, until then.  There is nothing
else that can be a substitute for this. He may come back laden
with "pearls and barharic gold;" he may have become eminent
in learning; he may have encircled his brow with laurels won
in the field of battle,-but these cannot be a substitute for the
confession and repentance which you demand as a father. If still
proud, and insolent, and disrespectful to you, how can you lay
your hand on his head and bestow on him a father's blessing?
Let us recur to anotier illustration.  You had a friend.  You
thought him sincere.  But he betrayed you; and in feeling, in
property, and in character, you have been made to suffer by him.
I ask any man, whether he can receive such a friend again to his
bosom, and press him  to his heart, without some evidence of
regret for what he has done, and some proof that he will not do
it again.  You cannot do it.  You cannot force your nature to
do it. The sea might as well break over the iron-bound shore,
or the river flow back and again climb up the mountain side
~down which it had leaped in cascades, as for you to do it. You
will satisfy yourself in some way that he regrets what he has
done, and that he intends not to do it again, or you can NEVER
receive him  with  the confidence of a friend.  Your nature,
though in other respects you may be gentle and pliant as the
osier, is as firm on this point as the everlasting hills, and is, in
this respect, but the counterpart and the image of God, who
does the same thing.  Mind can never do otherwise.  You
cannot make it do otherwise.  It would be worth nothing if it
could do otherwise.
Let us take another illustration.  It may be drawn from the
case of one who has committed an offence against the community
-the case of a man who has been guilty of theft, burglary, arson,
or forgery. The whole community demands evidence that he
has repented of his crime, and that he purposes to do so no
more, before it will admit hinl again to its favour.  If you go
into his cell and find him alone on his knees before God confessing the sin; if you see evidence in him  of regret and sorrow
that the deed was done; if you believe that the reformation is
entire and sincere, the community will receive him again to its
bosom, and will forget and forgive the past, and he may rise
again to public confidence, and to affluence and honour. But if
none of these things are seen; if he spends the years of his
sentence sullen, and hardened, and profane, and without one
sigh or tear, he is never forgiven. HIe may have paid the penalty
of the law, but he is not forg'iven, and the community is not




304             THE WAY OF SALVATION.
disposed to receive him to favour; and he goes forth to meet
still the suspicions and frowns of an indignant world; to be
watched with an eagle eye, and to be excluded all his life from
the affections and confidence of mankind.
We will take another instance of the operation of this law.
It is that of a man who has wasted his health and property by
intemperance.  He was once in prosperous circumstances; saw
around him a happy family; was respected and beloved; enjoyed
health, and was rising to honour and affluence. He yielded to
temptation, and all was swept away. Peace fled from his dwelling, and his wife sits in poverty and tears, and his children are
growing up in idleness and vice, and he himself is fast hastening to a drunkard's grave. Is there any way now by which
health, and domestic peace, and property, and respectability can
be regained? There is, if he has not gone too far-if he has not
come too near the end of life. But how?  By this course:He will rejlect on his sin and folly. He will feel deeply pained
in view of the evil that he has done. IHe will lanent the course
of life which has driven comfort and peace from his dwelling.
HIe will resolve to forsake the ways of sin, and will abandon for
ever the intoxicating bowl. He will reform his life, and will
become sober, industrious, and kind, will labour to pay his debts,
and to establish his credit again; and, if he does these things,
health will again revisit his frame, and peace his family, and
his farm will again be fenced, and ploughed, and sown, and the
rich harvest will again wave in his fields. But this is the very
way in which God requires the sinner to come back to himselfthe path of repentance.  He requires him to reflect on the past;
to feel that he has pursued a guilty course; to break off his transgressions, and to lead a different life. Why should it be thought
more strange in religion than in the actual course of events?
The same is true, to take one more instance, in the case of a
gambler.  He has been led on by the arts of temptation till he
has lost his all. He had received an inheritance from a wealthy
father. Now it is entirely gone. From one step to another he has
been drawn into temptation, till he is stripped of all, and is
penniless, and is ready to give himself up to despair. Is there
now any way by which he can emerge from this depth of woes,
and become a man of respectability and of property again?
There is one, and but one. It is a strait and a narrow path, like
that which leads to heaven. He will reslect on the sin and folly
of his course. IIe will feel pain and sorrow at the remembrance
of that hour when he yielded to temptation. He will mourn in
the bitterness of his soul over that sad day. He will resolve




PIIILOSOPHICAL NECESSITY OF REPENTANCE.   305
that he will never enter a gambling-room  again; that he will
seek to repair his fortune, not in that way, but in a better way;
that he will devote his life to a course of steady industry and
virtue; and if he will do all these things, he may regain the
confidence of his fellow-men, and God will bestow on him wealth
and respectability.  But this is substantially the way in which
a sinner is to return to God.  This is repentance.
So in respect to indolence, vice, dissipation, crime in all forms.
If men ever turn back the evils which result from these sins
and follies; if they ever escape from the withering and blighting
curse which pursues the wicked, it,must be in connexion with
repentance.  If there is no evidence of repentance and reform,
that withering and blighting influence will pursue the transgressor over sea and land, to the end of the world, and to the
end of life.  He can never escape the curse of violating the laws
of heaven until he gives evidence of sincere sorrow  for his
offence.  But the moment that is done, the avenger ceases to
pursue him; his fiiends come again around him; he finds peace
again in his own bosom; and the winds and the waves,' the
sunshine and the dew, the sky, the clouds, and the earth, man
and his Maker, join to bless him.
III. AMy third general argument is, that from the nature of the
mind itself, when one hats done wrong, there can be no security for
permanent peace but by repentance and forgiveness.  I say permanent peace.  I do not deny that temporary peace may be
obtained.  I do not deny that men may seem to be happy when
wrong has been done.  But the question now  before us is,
whether the guilty can find permanent and substantial happiness, happiness that may be relied on, and that may be made
the basis of calculation in regard to the future, without all that
is essentially involved in true repentance?  Is not this the way
which the God of nature has appointed by which the guilty
mind is to obtain relief? Is not the certainty of this fact one
of the means by which he designs to lead the sinner to the
exercise of true repentance?
When a man has done wrong, one of the questions which must
occupy his attention is, in what way he can be happy though he
has done the wrong.  How can he avoid the usual effects of
guilt in the soul in producing trouble? He has wronged another
in dealing with him; he has concealed the defects of an article
in trade; he has made a false representation; he has made a
wrong entry on his books; he has robbed his employer; he has
forged his name to a check; he has left his father's house at
night, and visited a scene of revelry and sin.  One of the ques



306              THE WAY  OF SALVATION.
tions which the mind cannot practically evade in such cases is,
how can this wrong be done, and yet the wrong-doer be call
and happy?  And here is the question which is now before us.
Cal the mind find permanent happiness without repentance?
Or is that the way which nature has provided in order to obtain
permanent peace?
Now, I need not pause to detail the ways which men adopt in
these cases.  They are almost as numerous as the individuals
concerned, and as the offences which they commit.  There is, of
course, in all cases, an attempt to conceal the offence, and this
calls into requisition all the varied talent and skill with which
the guilty may be endowed, and is often done with consummate
art.  In other cases, there is an effort made to turn away the
mind from the recollection of the offence; and thousands of our
sins of word, and thought, and deed, are in fact forgotten.  In
other cases there is an attempt to satisfy the mind, by a process of reasoning, of the correctness of what has been done; and
in some sophistical and Jesuitical maxim  the mind finds temporary peace.  In some cases the conscience becomes gradually
insensible, until it is "seared as with a hot iron."  In other
cases there is an attempt to obliterate the natural marks of guilt
in the frame, until the brow is made brass, and a deed of depravity may be performed with an eye and a hand as steady as
when one performs the noblest deed of virtue.
Yet there is defect in all this.  It does not answer the purpose.  It does not meet the demands of the human mind in the
case.  It does not secure permanent peace.  For it furnishes no
security in those respects in which security is desirable.  (a) It
furnishes no guarantee that the mind will remain in this condition
in which you succeed in putting it.  What is your security that
the offence will always be forgotten by yourself?  What is your
security that your conscience will always remain untroubled?
What is your security that the false and pernicious reasoning
will always appear as plausible as it does now?  What is your
security that some secret power may not undertake a work with
your soul; that your memory may not do its office better than
you intend; that in the dark night, or when far away, or when
on a bed of sickness, you will not think of what you will wish
not to think of?  (b) But again: this furnishes no assurance that
the sin will not be detected, and that all your attempts to conceal it may not be brushed away by some invisible hand, like
cobwebs.  What are bolts, and locks, and false entries, and all
the arts of concealment, when God means that a thing shall be
revealed?  What nmurderer was ever safe when  ie meant that




PHILOSOPHICAL NECESSITY OF REP-ENTANCE                 307
he should be known?  What act of fraud in a bank; what
scheme of iniquity in robbing poor pensioners of their due; what
well-executed forgery; what crime of any kind, was ever concealed when lIIe meant that it should be " proclaimed on the
house-tops?"  In how many ways may an offence be divulged?
WVhat a trifle may be a clue to the whole development?  No
man ever does a wrong thing, however artful may be his attempts
to conceal it, who is not apprehensive that it may be revealed.
Some eye may have witnessed it, of which he knew nothing;
some combination of circumstances may disclose it which he
cannot control; some accomplice may prove faithless, though
sworn to secrecy; some "bird of the air" may tell a tale that
you would not have told in the ear of another for worlds: —and
the way to make the mind peaceful, when wrong has been done,
is not by concealment.
The way which God and nature prescribes is by repentance
and confession.  For, (1,) there is relief ina rejpentance itself.
Sorrow for the wrong is that which nature seeks and struggles
for; and you do wrong to your own soul when you refuse to
indulge it. Every one knows that there is relief in repentancethat the mind throws off a burden when the eyes run down
with tears on account of wrong which has been done; that that
is what nature demands, and must have, before the soul is happy.
We have all been children.  Now, when we had done wrong to
a parent or a playmate, did not all the better feelings of our
nature urge us to go and confess the wrong? And what violence
did we do to all our gentle and pure sensibilities when under
the influence of pride and false notions of boyish honour we
refused to do it, and braced ourselves in an effort to find happiness without it! But, (2,) there is relief in the act of confession,
and in fbrgiveness.  The very act of confession furnishes relief
to a guilty mind; and when we hear the word forgiveness, it
diffuses peace through the soul.  It was with a knowledge of
the deepest principles of our nature that the Saviour said to the
weeping, guilty female, who washed his feet with her tears,
" Thy  aith hath saved thee; go in peace."  Go in peace she
would-for in the tears she poured forth on the feet of the
Saviour, and in the words of forgiveness which fell from  his
lips, she had found relief for her guilty conscience-a peace
which nothing thenceforward could disturb.
IV. Mly fourth general argument is, thati in a return to God
from  a course of sin, re]pentance woulcl fjllotw as a matter of
course, even if it were not preesceibedd  tnd demanded as a condition of fJzvoumr. It would be impossible to come back from  a




308              THE WAY OF SALVATION.
course of depravity to the ways of virtue,-to form and express
the intention to lead a virtuous and holy life,-without experiencing in fact all that is essentially involved. in repentance.
If this be so, then the requirement of repentance as a condition
of salvation is not an arbitrary demand, but is in fact a mere
statement of what must occur in all cases in order that a sinner
may be saved.
A return to God is a restoration to love-to obedience-to a
purpose to serve him.  When one has sinned, can this return
occur without the exercise of sorrow for the errors and follies of
the past?  Can it occur without regret more or less poignant
that God was forsaken?  Can it occur without the formation of
a purpose to do so no more? To ask these questions is to answer
them-for the answer is at hand in every mind.  When an
alienated being comes back to God, it will be only by repentance.
He will, he must feel regret that his past life has been spent in
estrangement from his Maker.  He will look with deep feeling
on the many mercies his Maker has conferred on him; and with
amazement on the fact that to this moment he has abused them
all. No man ever yet passed from  hatred to love; from  alienation to friendship; from  disobedience to obedience; from  dishonesty to uprightness; from intemperance to temperance; fronm
dissipation to soberness of life,-without experiencing regret, remorse, and sorrow  at his former course of life, and without
passing through a process similar to that which God requires of
the returning sinner.  No man ever did or can return to that
God from whom he has been alienated, without feeling and expressing regret that he has wandered, and without a purpose to
do so no more.  At the remembrance of his abused mercies; at
a view of the goodness which has kept him in all his wanderings, and especially of the mercy which sought him  by the gift
of a Saviour, he must feel and he must weep; and he cannot
return without bitter regrets that he has abused so much love,
and slighted so much mercy, and wasted so large a part of his
season of probation.  Returning love, and a sense of God's goodness, must be attended with sorrow of heart that he ever transgressed, and with a resolution to do so no more:-and this is
repentance.  This must have occurred in the case of every one
who returns to God and virtue; and the demand for repentance, therefore, is not arbitrary, but is laid deep in the laws
of the human mind.
If this train of remarks be well-founded, we are conducted to
the conclusion which we sought-the philosophical reason why
repentance is required in order to salvation.




PHILOSOPHIICAL NECESSITY OF REPENTANCE.   309
(1.) It follows from the view which has been taken, that in
its primary demand the Christian religion has consulted the
laws of our nature, and shown respect to those laws. Its Author
has shown that the laws of the mind are understood, and has
based his demands on a knowledge of those laws. A system
of religion adapted to the condition of sinners could not have
been originated which did not demand repentance, nor is it
possible for man now to conceive of any plan by which a sinner
could be brought to obedience, and raised up to heaven, without passing substantially through the process demanded by repentance.
(2.) It follows that if men refuse to repent, they are sinning
against a great law of their nature, as well as against a positive
law of religion.  They are constantly making war on themselves-on all the finer feelings of their souls-on all that is
noble and generous in the human heart-when they refuse
ingenuously to acknowledge the wrong; when they attempt to
cloak it; when they resolve to persevere in a career of depravity; when they are unwilling to go and make confession
to their Father in heaven. Their whole nature prompts them
to do this.  It is a course whose propriety is engraven as with
the pen of a diamond on their own souls.  It is the way
which nature prescribes for our relief when we have done wrong.
We are to seek it by confession, by tears, and by imploring
pardon; and until this is done, there is a want in our soul which
is never met-an unchangeable law of our nature which is never
gratified. The only solid and permanent peace which a sinner
can ever find is when weeping over his transgressions at the
feet of his offended God and Saviour, and when He smiles benignantly on him, and says,'" Son, be of good cheer: thy sins are
forgiven thee."
(3.) It follows from the train of thought which we have been
considering, that if the sinner will not repent HE AUST PERISH.
This is the thought which is suggested in the text:-" Except
ye repent, ye shall all likewise perish." It cannot be otherwise.
There is no way conceivable by which a sinner can be saved but
by repentance.  It is a law of our nature that it must be sofor there are elements in our souls, which, if we have sinned
and are impenitent, must sooner or later produce misery, and
Imust work out our ruin.  No man can have any security of
happiness who has done wrong, but has done nothing, and will
do nothing, to confess and to repair the wrong. No child is
happy in these circumstances; no man is; no creature of a
moral government can be. God holds a mysterious but absolute




310              THE WAY OF SALVATION.
power over the soul; and he has only to arrange matters so
as to drag your secret sins from their hiding-places, and array
them before your minds, to create within you all the elements
of hell.  There is enough in every man's heart and life to make
him  miserable for ever and ever, if it be allowed to take its
course according to the laws of our nature, and to carry its full
desolations through the soul. When a sinner " perishes" it will
not be an arbitrary thing; but it will be because, if he will not
repent, it cannot be avoided. Then, sinner, in connexion with
humble, penitent confession your soul may find permanent and
eternal peace; if that is withheld, such peace can never visit
your bosom. May God teach you the way of happiness and
salvation. Amen.




SERMON XXIV.
THE FOUNDATION  OF THE COMMAND TO REPENT LAID IN
THE CHARACTER OF MAN.
ACTS xvii. 30.-" God now commandeth all men everywhere to repent."
A corMAND addressed to all men requiring repentance, supposes
that all men are personally guilty, or that there is some wrongdoing in the life of each individual, which makes it proper that
he should be required to repent.  God does not demand hypocritical or affected sorrow.  He does not require his creatures
to repent of that which is right; or which could in no sense
have been avoided; or which has been done by another.  There
can be no repentance where there has been no wrong-no
guilt.
The inquiry before us now is, whether it is true that every
man is guilty in such a sense that it is proper to command him
to repent.  This is everywhere assumed in the Bible; it is
assumed in my text; it is assumed by every one who preaches
the gospel, whether in a Christian or a heathen land.  Yet the
command is not extensively obeyed. It is addressed to thousands
who give themselves no trouble about it, and who do not feel
themselves particularly called upon to obey it.  The reasons why
they do not may be many; but among them it may be presumned
that one of the most prominent is that which I propose now to
notice-that they do not suppose themselves to be guilty in anly
such sense as to make the command in their case proper.
In prosecuting, therefore, the general subject of repentance, I
propose to call your attention to the simple inquiry, whether it is
true that every one is guilty in such a sense that it is needful to
call on him to repent?  In order to bring this fairly before you,
I shall have to consider two points:-I. The estimate which
men form of themselves on this question; and, II. What there
is in their character and lives which makes it proper to call on
them to repent.
1. The estimate whiich men form  on the question of their own
guilt. When we call on men to repent, we are at once met with
certain classes of feelings in regard to their own lives and conduct,
21




312              THE WAY OF SALVATION.
which it is necessary to remove or correct before the command
will be felt to have any force. A few feel and admit that they are
sinners, —such sinners as to make the command appropriate in regard
to themselves.  But this is by no means the feeling of the mass of
those to whom the command of repentance comes; and before that
command can be seen to have any weight, it is necessary that there
should be produced in their minds in some way the conviction
that they are guilty.  In order to do as much justice as possible
at the same time to the character of my readers and to my
subject, I shall, under this head, attempt to describe the views
which are commonly entertained on this point, and shall concede
what I deem to be correct in regard to those views.  The gospel
of Christ does not require me to do injustice to any man.
The views, then, which are entertained may be described as
comprising the following particulars:(1.) You allege that you are not gross and open sinners. You
are not idolaters.  You are not profane.  You are not scoffers.
You are not inebriates.  You are not debased by sensuality.
Many of the heathen were; many in every community now are;
and you would readily concede that it would in every way be
proper to call on them to repent. It was eminently so in the times
of the apostles; it is so now in heathen lands; it is so among the
debased and sunken portions of every community.  But this, it
would be alleged, is not the character of the mass of those to
whom the gospel is preached.
This, I admit, is true.  No one can deny it; no one should
desire to deny it.  In declaring the gospel, I am not required or
expected to do injustice to any man, or class of men.  I am to
withhold from none of them  the fair praise for what they have
and are:  I am  not to attempt to group and blend all men
together, and to represent them  as in all respects on the same
level.  I am to do wrong to no man's amiableness, or integrity, or
purity of morals.  If I meet a young man amiable and upright,
like him whom the Saviour met, I am  to " love" him as he did,
and not to attempt to rank him  with Judas Iscariot; if I see
a pure and virtuous female, I am not to represent her as a Mary
Magdalene.  I am neither to maintain that one man is as bad as
another; nor that any man is as bad as he can be; —and if I
were required to do this, I should despair of bringing men to
repentance.
(2.) You allege that you are not habitutallyawrong-doer. You aim
to do right. You mean faithfully to discharge your duties. Your
purpose is to be honest, upright, true. You do not mean to do
wrong to your wife, or children, or neighbour, or client, or customer,




FOUNDATION OF' THE COMMAND TO REPENT.   313
or the stranger that comes into your dwelling, or that you may
meet in your travels.  You mean to pay your debts; you mean to
tell the truth; you mean to be faithful to your pronises.  If you
fail in regard to any of these things, it is not by design, but it is
to be traced to infirmity, inadvertence, want of full information, or
circumstances wholly beyond your control.  You are conscious to
yourself that in the main this has been your character.  If, in the
course of a life, we will now suppose a life somewhat protracted,
you have ever been guilty of a falsehood, it has been perhaps
but in a single instance-an instance which you have a thousand
times regretted-while the characteristic by which you are best
lknown is that of a man of unimpeachable veracity.  If in the
course of such a long life, you have ever done injustice to another
man in dealing with him; have talen advantage of him by your
superior knowledge; have wronged him out of what was due to
him; have overreached him in a bargain,-it has been in perhaps
not more than a single instance, when you were younger, and you
have a thousand times regretted it; and your prevailing character
has been that of an honest man.  If, at some time in your life,
you have done wrong to the character of another, it was when
you were misinformed, or were excited by passion, or were led to
suppose that he had injured you.  Upon calmer reflection you
have a thousand times regretted it, and if he is dead you feel the
bitterest compunction that it was done; if he is living, there is
nothing which you would not do for his welfare-and your
prevailing character has not been that of a calumniator and
slanderer.-If at times you have indulged in passion, under
sudden provocation, or a nervous temperamlent, or when off your
guard, you have as often regretted it, and you are conscious
that it is not your habitual aim to do so, and that your deliberate
purpose is not to wound the feelings or pain the heart of another.
You cherish the hope also that the world will do you justice in
this, and that in spite of these sudden and temporary ebullitions
you will be regarded as having a kind heart, and as ready to do
good to others.
Now I admit that there is much truth also in all this. I admit
it because it is undeniable, and because religion does not require
us to do injustice to the character of any human being.  I think
that those of us who trust that we have exercised true repentance,
deep as may be our conviction of the depravity of the heart,
believe this to have been true in regard to ourselves.  I think
that we can all look over our lives and see that the instances were
very few and far between in which we intentionally did a wrong
thing;-in which we were guilty of falsehood, or fraud, or




314              THE WAY OF SALVATION.
dishonesty. This will meet the eye of many such men-men who
from day to day are not conscious of an intention to do a wrong
thing; who are conscious that they would not cheat a man for the
brightest diadem that ever a monarch wore, and who go into their
office, into the bank, into their counting-rooms, intending to do
right to all men, and who, when Saturday night comes, whatever
sense of imperfection they may have, lie down on their pillows with
the reflection, that through the week they have not done intentional
wrong to any human being.
In what sense, then, you would ask me, are such men called
on to repent?  Why is the command addressed to all human
beings?  What is there in their character and life that makes
it proper in their case? These are fair questions.  They are
questions which men cannot help asking. They are questions
which the ministers of religion are bound to answer.
II. My second object was to show what there is in the character
and lives of slch men which makes it proper to call on them2 to'repent. My aim will be to state that only of which you are
conscious, and to show that there is that in the case of every one
which makes it proper for his Maker, through the gospel, to
address him in the language of the text.
(1.) I begin with this thought, that with all your conscious
integrity and purity, there has not been a day of your life in which
you would be willing to have all your thoughts, and plans, and
desires, and imaginings for that day made known to the world, or
even to your best friends. I mean that you would not he willing
to have all these things written down by some attending amanuensis, or by some invention resembling the magnetic telegraph,
and made known instantly to those who are around you.  In the
purest day of your life, you would not be willing to have all these
thoughts written in letters of light in some conspicuous place, to
be read by every passer-by. The very thoughts which you have
had this day, you would not have thus permanently transcribed
for all the diamonds of the East. If you were certain that this
were to be done, if you should see the mysterious finger coming
forth and beginning to make the record, shame would begin at the
same time to cover you, and you would rush from the spot, or
cover your face with your hands, and hide it in confusion.
Now there are three reasons why a man would not wish such a
revelation of his secret thoughts and feelings.  One is, because he
has plans which, though not wrong or improper in themselves, he
would not desire others to know.  They are his plans of business,
of study, of inventions; his views of a case in law entrusted to
him; his methods of practising the healing art; his tact in his




FOUNDATION OF TIHE COMMAND TO REPENT.   315
calling, which he would not desire to have every one know, for
his living may depend on it, though he may feel that if it vwere
known it would be in a high degree creditable to himself.  But
every man has his own secrets; and they constitute no inconsiderable part of his caplital in business. At any rate, many of his
prospects would be blasted if his views and plans were in the
possession of others. A second reason is, that many of our thoughts
and imaginings are merely foolish, and trifling, and unprofitable
-and we could not desire others to know  that our minds
could be employed on so barren subjects, and in a way so little
befitting our dignity and character.  We allow the imagination to
roam quite at its ease; we amuse ourselves in building up splendid
castles, and then in seeing them tumble into gorgeous fragments or
vanish:-as children set up bricks, or build houses of blocks to
see them fall over; or as the Arabian, in his tales, paints a gorgeous
vision, and sees it vanish away.  Now we should not feel that in
this employment of the mind there was absolutely anything corrupting or wrong; but we should not care to have the world suppose
that we are quite so unprofitably employed as we are.  There is
yet a third reason, of a much more serious character, and extending
to many more things. We should be unwilling that our plans and
thoughts should be disclosed, because we feel that they are wrong.
They are the fruits of an evil, a proud, a vain, a sensual, an envious,
a corrupt heart.  We are dwelling with delight on some sinful
pleasures in the past, and trying to live them  over again, when
they should be forgotten:-thus polluting the mind as much by the
memory as by the act. We are dwelling in imagination on some forbidden pleasures, and arranging them to our fancy:-thus corrupting the soul as really as the act itself would do. We are indulging
in hateful pride of beauty, or dress, or attainments, or wealth;
and suffering a whole deluge of evil thoughts to come in upon the
soul in regard to our superiority over others.  We are looking on
the dress, or the person, or the house, or the equipage of another
with envious feelings, and allowing the mind to be filled with
hatred of them on account of their possessions, and with repining
and dissatisfaction at our own lot.  We are coveting, it may be,
our "' neighbour's house, or his wife, or his manservant, or his
maidservant, or his ox, or his ass," or something else that is our
neighbour's.  We are remembering the injury that some one has
done us, and thinking how  sweet revenge would be.  We are
maturing some plan for the indulgence of a guilty passion, and are
increasingly impatient as it begins to ripen towards its accomplishment.  We are running over trains of thought which we know
are not pure, and which we feel are polluting —for' the very




316             THE WAY OF SALVATION.
passage of an impure thought through the mind leaves pollution
behind it:"-and if a cherub should approach us in our reverie in
the most sylph-like form, and on wings as pure as the northern
snows, and with the gentlest whisper of the zephyr, should breathe
into our ears that it was knowvn-how would it startle us from
our reverie, and cover us with confusion!  It is probable that
either in respect to the desires and plans of the present, or the
doings of the past, it would be in the power of such a messenger,
by the gentlest whisper in the ear, " That thing is knownv!" to
startle us from our seats in wild confusion and horror.
How, then, shall we be pure before God?  For, " if our heart
condemn us, God is greater than our heart, and knoweth all
things,' I John iii. 20. " Unto me," said an ancient sage, " an
oracle was secretly imparted, and mine ear caught a gentle whisper
of it.  In distracted thoughts among the visions of the night,
when profound sleep falleth on men, fear came upon me, and
trembling, which made all my bones to quake. Then a spirit
glided along before my face; the hair of my flesh stood on
end:-it stood, but its form I could not discern; a spectre was
before mine eyes: —there was silence, and I heard a voice-Shall
feeble man be more just than God? Shall man be more pure than
his Maker? Behold, in his servants he putteth no confidence, and
his angels he chargeth with folly: how much more true is this of
those who dwell in houses of clay, whose foundation is in the
dust, and who are crushed before the moth-worm?" Job iv. 12-19.
But, if there are thoughts within us all that could not bear
such a revelation, then for these thoughts it is proper to call on
the sinner to repent.  Say, sinner, if you can conceive that
Gabriel should cherish for one day in heaven such thoughts as
are the habitual inmates of your bosom, would not all heaven
demand the expulsion of the archangel, or his lowly contrition
before the throne?
(2.) I refer, secondly, to the sins of which you are conscious in
your past life. I have my eye on the concessions which I have
made, and shall not depart from them. But with these full in
view, it is right to look at the past life, and see whether sins have
not been committed which make the demand for repentance proper.
There are two classes of these sins to be taken into the account:
those which you have carried out and accomplished; and those
which you would have committed but for the want of opportunity,
and by some providential restraint.
(a) The first class is made up of those which you have committed, or which have been accomplished by some open deed.
These may seem to be few in number, but in the aggregate they




FOUNDATION OF THE COMMAND TO REPENT.   817
may not be so few. The question is not how many times you have
done one wrong thing, but how many times you have done all wrong
things. It is not exactly whether you have been guilty of one
falsehood or more; of one act of dishonesty or more; but it is, how
many wrong things are fairly chargeable on you when they are all
reckoned together-when all your acts of dishonesty, and passion,
and deceit, and prevarication, and unkindness, and disobedience,
and improper words, and pride and vanity, and corrupt imaginings,
and envy, and jealousy, and every other evil thing remembered
and forgotten, are taken together.  For many of your sins are
forgotten by you, though remembered by Him who has uttered
the command in the text.  But if such an inventory were taken
of our lives, what a catalogue might be made out against us!
Who would be willing to be summoned to the bar of his Maker
in a strict and impartial trial of all that he has done on all
subjects, and at all times, that he has known to be wrong?  In
such an honest catalogue, if drawn out before our eyes, it may
be that we who think ourselves most virtuous, would be so overwhelmed that we should see that shame and confusion of face
become us.
(b) But there is another aspect of the point before us. The sins
which we have designed or devised, and which we should have
committed, if we had had the opportunity, or if we had not been
restrained by some invisible influence, or if we had not been
thwarted in the midst of what seemed to promise a successful
prosecution of our plans, ought to be taken into the account.  For
we are answerable before God, not only for what we have actually
done, but for what we desired to do, and what we would have
done if we had not been prevented.  When a man levels a rifle at
another with an intent to murder him, the act is not changed to
innocence if the weapon misses fire, or if some one strikes it from
his hand, or if God interposes and makes his arm unsteady by fear,
or powerless by paralysis. When you laid your plan to defraud a
creditor, the guilt is not washed away because the laws are so
made that you could not evade them. When you contemplated
and desired to lead the innocent astray, you are not rendered
guiltless because God in some way interposed and saved your
intended victim and a circle of friends from the agony of a broken
heart. The grand question is, what has been your desire, your
aim, your purpose, your wish. For these things you are to answer
before God; and when a man looks honestly over his life, and
reflects on what he has wished to do, and would have done, but
for some restraint of Providence, who can say that he has no
occasion for repentance? Grateful he will be, if he has any just




318              THE WAY OF SALVATION.
views, that God restrained him  from  the deep disgrace of the
outward act; but he must settle with God yet for the internal
plan and desire from the execution of which God so mercifully
restrained him.
(c) There is still another aspect of the point before us.  Who
can tell what any of us would have been, but for some steady and
constant restraint?  Others have fallen into deep depravity;
why have we not done it?  They have wrecked character, and
hope, and happiness; what is the lesson which this fact should
teach us about ourselves?  Our eyes have seen distinguished
clergymen in different denominations fall into gross and open sin;
officers in banks and custom-houses, and high public functionaries
abuse their trust, and ruin their character; merchants yield to the
power of temptation, and ruin themselves and their families.
As we heard this, we became alarmed, and trembled for ourselves.
We asked, if such men fall, what confidence can we put in other
men; what confidence in ourselves?  Why did we allow  it to
come back upon our own souls, and fill us with self-distrust?
Because we knew and felt that there was that within us which,
placed in the same circumstances, would, for aught that we could
see, lead to the same result.  Then we asked, to what we owed
our preservation, and what we should have been if we had been
left in a similar manner?  Then we felt that there was a deep
foundation of evil in our souls-in the souls of all; and that all
that is needful for its development is to throw man into circumstances of temptation without restraint. I admit that the primary
effect of this, when others fall, should be to make us grateful to
God that we have been preserved, but it should also show us what
is in our own hearts.:No virtuous man ever vet witnessed the
fall of another who did not feel humbled himself, and who did
not feel that there was in his own heart a deep foundation of evil.
The truth is, we owe much more of our virtues to external
circumstances-to Providential restraints-to secret checks from
an invisible cause —than we are in our pride willing to acknowledge.
But how much credit should a man take to himself for these things?
Who can tell what he would have been but for those restraints,
and if he had had his birth in another land, or in different
circumstances? And why should not a man, in his estimate of his
own character before God, think of himself not merely as he is,
but as he would have been without restraint?  Why, when he
contemplates his virtue and integrity, with the guards and checks
which are thrown around him, should he not think of what he
might have been, and would have been, but for these guards and
checks?




FOUNDATION OF THE COMMAND TO REPENT.   319
If these are just principles, we can see proper foundation for
the call to repentance and humiliation before God.  Our open
deeds of evil scattered. along through life, and many of tllem
forgotten; our plans of evil which we formed and cherished, fiom
the accomplishment of which we were providentially prevented;
our conscious weakness of principle, which would have made us
what others have been if there had been no restraint on us,-all
these things show us how we are estimated by HIim who knows
all things, and who sees all the secrets of the heart, and show us
one of the reasons why it is that he has called on all men everywhere to repent.
(3.) I refer, thirdly, to your treatment of your Maker.  You
have been careful in respect to your conduct towards your fellowmen, but no one can deny that our deportment towards God is of
much more importance in estimating our own character than our
treatment of a fellow-creature. It is mainly, I need hardly remind
you, on account of our treatment of himself that he calls on us
to exercise repentance-for all sin and wrong ultimately terminate
on him.
Now what has been your treatment of your God and Saviour?
Has your deportment towards him  been such as to satisfy your
own conscience; such as to meet his approval?  Or has it been
such as to make it proper for him to call on you to exercise true
repentance; to feel and express regret and sorrow?
I by no means intend to say that the feelings of those for whom
I write, and whom I would call to repentance, have been alike; or
that any general description would accurately represent them all.
But the following specifications, I apprehend, will find a counterpart in the bosoms of most of those whom  I thus address, and
will be recognised as an accurate account of the course of life of
which they are conscious:(a) You have neglected God.  You have not lived as if there
were a God; you have not rendered to him the homage which is
his due.  In many'cases this neglect has been entire; has been
long-continued-perhaps has lasted through a long life.  You
are not in the habit of praying to him-of acknowledging him in
your closet, your family, your plans of life.  There has been
nothing in your life which has been a proper recognition of his
existence and his claims; of the fact that he is your Creator, and
that you are dependent on him, and that you sustain any relation
to him whatever.  Suppose you had neglected a wife, a mother,
a father, a child in this manner! What a nwrong is often done by
mere neglect! Yet there is no one to whom men sustain important
relations -who is so much neglected as God.




320              THE WAY OF SALVATION.
(b) You have withheld your affections from Him, and transferred
them  to others.  You have loved the creature more than the
Creator.  You have given that place in your affections, which was
due to him, to gold, or pleasure, or honour; to your child, or to
your houses and lands. Your supreme love you have fixed not
on God, but on these objects; and your strong attachment for
them has displaced Him from the heart.  But is there no wronzq
in thus transferring your affections? Suppose you were to transfer
to another the affections due to a wife,-is there no wrong
done?  Is there less when the affections are all withheld from
God, and concentrated on some one other object, or distributed
among a thousand?
(c) You have neglected the Bible. There may be among you some
who have never read it through in their lives; some who never
read the half of it; some who never read twenty chapters in it;
some who are in no regular habit of reading it; some who have
not looked into it for years. But suppose this Book to be a real
revelation from heaven; to contain the true law of God; to disclose
the true plan of salvation; to have been given and preserved with
great care and interest on the part of God; and to be full of the
wisdom in counsel which man needs,-is there no wrong done to
him by neglecting it?  Hear a parable. A young man embarked
for a distant land. He was an only son, greatly beloved by his
father.  He was young, and inexperienced, and was going among
strangers, and was likely to be thrown into circumstances where
he would need a counsellor. The father had himself been over
all those lands; had encountered all those dangers; and he knew
well what kind of instructions would be most useful there. With
great pains he sat down and wrote out such counsels as became a
fiather in such circumstances, and gave them to his son. The son,
confident of his own wisdom, and regardless of his father, resolved
to throw himself. on his own resources, and coolly folded up the
instructions and laid them away at the bottom of his trunk-and
never read them.  When out of his sight he threw them into the
deep, and saw them no more. Was no wrong done to that father?
Would he have no occasion to regard himself as treated with
neglect and scorn?
(d) You have violated his Sabbath.  He asked of you to devote
the one-seventh portion of your time wholly to him; the remainder
he gave to you, under a proper recognition of himself, to pursue
your worldly plans. That was the time he gave you to plough your
fields, and to do your trading, and to write your letters, and to
perform your travelling, and to accomplish your secular reading.
But the one portion-the seventh-he deemed not more than a




FOUNDATION OF THE COMMAND TO REPENT.   321
suitable part of your time for the proper recognition of himself in
the world, and for securing those spiritual influences on the soul
indispensable for your own best good. You took all the time to
yourself. You worked hard all through the week, filling the mind
with worldliness, and then took "the Lord's day" to do up a
great number of miscellaneous items that could not be brought
into the week, or that the customs of society would not allow you
to do. You read novels and newspapers; you wrote letters and
adjusted your accounts; you indulged the worldly thi7nking which
you could not find time for in the week; you made out briefs,
and arranged the testimony in a case preparatory for the morrow;
you lounged; you slept; you went abroad for recreation. Is there
iio wrong in this? " Will a man," says the prophet, " ROB Gon?'
There is indeed no wrong on the supposition that the Sabbath is
to be like all the other days of the week.  But suppose it is not.
Suppose there is some meaning and binding force in these words,
"Remember the Sabbath day to keep it holy;" and in the
declaration that it belongs to " the Lord thy God," and that " in
it thou shalt not do any work."  May there not be a robbery of
time as well as money?  And may not your Maker be robbed
as well as man?
(e) You have cherished hard thoughts of God. You have
thought that his character was unlovely.  You have thought that
his laws were stern and severe. You have thought that he has
dealt hardly with you when he has taken away your property,
your health, or your child. You have thought that he was partial in
saving others, and not saving you. You have complained in your
spirit that you were to die, and to be judged; and that you were
exposed to his endless wrath.  Is there no wrong in this? Suppose
your child thought thus of you-what would you think of him?
Would it be agreeable to you that he should entertain these
thoughts of a father?
This catalogue might be indefinitely extended, but I have said
enough for my purpose.  If these things are so,-if it is true that
we have all guilty thoughts and feelings which we would not have
disclosed before the world; if we are conscious of many acts of
criminality in the past, and admit that there are many more which
we may have forgotten, and would have been many more if we
had not been restrained; and if it is true that we have been guilty
of long-continued wrongs against our Maker, —then the position
which was laid down may be regarded as demonstrated, that it is
right for God to call on every man to exercise true repentance.
I add but one other remark in conclusion. These sins and
wrongs with which vou are chargeable-secret and open, remem



322              THE WAY OF SALVATION.
bered and forgotten-must in some way be disposed of. They must
either be repented of and forgiven, or they must be recalled to
your remembranre hereafter, and enter into the account when
you are judged. It is impossible but that they should be noticed
in some proper way by your Maker. If they are forgiven, if they
are blotted from his book, that ends the matter.  But if they are
not, they must come into judgment.  And who could bear this
revelation? Who is there that would not turn pale, and tremble,
and call on the rocks and mountains to cover him, if he knew that
all that he has ever thought, and said, and done, were about to be
disclosed to assembled worlds?




SERMON XXV.
THE EVIDENCES OF TRUE REPENTANCE.
2 COR. vii. 9-11.-" Now I rejoice, not that ye were made sorry, but that
ye sorrowed to repentance; for ye were made sorry after a godly sort, that
ye might receive damage by us in nothing. For godly sorrow worketh
repentance to salvation not to be repented of; but the sorrow of the world
worketh death. For behold this selfsame thing, that ye sorrowed after a
godly sort, what carefulness it wrought in you, yea, what clearing of yourselves, yea, what indignation, yea, what fear, yea, what vehement desire,
yea, what zeal, yea, what revenge! In all things ye have approved yourselves to be clear in this matter."
THIS was an instance of genuine repentance, and the things here
enumerated are characteristics of true repentance.  The case
referred to was one in which manifest wrong had been done by
the church at Corinth, 1 Cor. v.  Paul had written to them
respecting the wrong, enjoining on them to take the speediest
measures to put it away.  This letter had had all the effect
which he wished.  They had seen the error; they were deeply
grieved and pained on account of it; they felt the force of the
reproofs of the apostle; and the sorrow which they experienced
was such as God approved, and such as was fitted to work salvation.  There was deep distress of mind-evinced in their " sorrowing after a godly sort;" there was "carefulness,"-or diligence,
effort, forwardness in removing the evil; there was a " clearing
of themselves,"-not an apology for the sin, but a desire to state
all the mitigating circumstances of the case, and to show that
the church was not disposed to be the defender of evil; there
was " indignation,"-indignation against the sin, and a cordial
hatred of it; there was "fear,"-fear lest the thing should be
continued or repeated-a state of mind anxious that the whole
evil might be corrected, and that no vestige of it should remain
among them; there was " vehement desire,"-a fervent wish to
remove all cause of complaint; there was "zeal,"-zeal in
putting away the sin, and in producing a reformation; there was
"revenge" —that is, they immediately set about the work of
punishing the offender.  This sorrow, and ardour, and earnestness, and promptness, the apostle regarded as good evidence of




324               THE WAY OF SALVATION.
the genuineness of their repentance; as a specimen of that
"godly sorrow which worketh repentance unto salvation not to
be repented of."
The subject which will now be considered is, the evidences of
true repentance.  The inquiry is, What are the evidences of true
repentance?  What distinguishes true repentance from  false?
How may we satisfy ourselves that we have truly repented of
our sins?
The characteristics of repentance may be arranged under three
heads, or three things seem necessary to the full and complete
proof of true  repentance.  They  are  these:-the  internal
feeling of regret or sorrow which is experienced in view of sin;
the purpose deliberately formed in the mind to abandon it; and
the actual forsaking of the evil.  I say these are necessary to
the full and complete evidencing of real repentance.  It is true
that there may be circumstances where the first alone, or the
first and second combined, would be indicative of genuine repentance, but there might be no opportunity to test them, and the
three are necessary to furnish evidence that shall be of the
highest kind, or that shall be satisfactory in the highest degree.
I propose to illustrate these in their order.
I. The first which I specify is, the internal feeling; the regret
for the wrong; the sorrow of heart which is experienced. This,
of course, will be known only to the individual, except so far as
he chooses to make others acquainted with it.
I do not say that mere regret or sorrow, of itself, is full evidence of repentance, for it may not be the right kind of sorrowit may not be such as would bear the application of a test-it
may not be permanent in its influence; but regret, or sorrow,
enters always into true repentance. It results from the laws of
the mind that where a wrong which we have done is contemplated in a proper manner, it should produce regret and pain.
It enters into the meaning of all the words by which we are
accustomed to express repentance.  Thus in the text and context, the apostle says that the letter which he had sent to the
Corinthians had made them  " sorry though it were but for a
season;" he says that they " sorrowed to repentance;" he speaks
of their "mourning;" he speaks of their " sorrowing after a godly
sort." There may, indeed, be great diversity in the depth, and
pungency, and duration, and external expressions of sorrow
experienced by true penitents. This diversity arises much from
a difference of temperament; from the previous character; from
the extent and aggravation of sin; and, so far as appearances
are concerned, from the habits of self-control or the want of it in




EVIDENCES OF TRUE REPENTANCE.                  325
individuals. There is often the most aeep and permanent feeling
when there are no tears; and the sorrow which is accompanied
by loud and boisterous outcries, is often a sorrow which lies very
near the surface of the soul, every trace of whose existence soon
vanishes.. But sorrow of some kind is necessary to repentance;
and if we have never had a pang of regret for the past, if we
have never felt that we have done wrong, if we have never felt
ashamed, and humbled, and confounded in view of our errors
and faults, if we have never had anything of the spirit of the
publican when he said,  "God be merciful to me a sinner," or of
the prodigal when he said, " Father, I have sinned against heaven
and in thy sight, and am no more worthy to be called thy son,"
or of David when he said, " I acknowledge my transgression,
and my sin is ever before me," we may be sure that we have
never truly repented.
Yet we should not suppose that all sorrow  experienced in
view of past sins is necessarily true repentance. " There is a
sorrow of the world," in view of sin, " which worketh death."
Judas the traitor had deep anguish in view of his crime, and
went and added to his guilt another enormous act of transgression.
Many a gambler has had the keenest feelings of regret when
his money is gone, who had no real penitence; and there is
deep sorrow in those " doleful regions" where there is " weeping,
and wailing, and gnashing of teeth," but there is no true repentance there.
At this stage of our inquiry, therefore, it is of the highest
importance that we should endeavour to lay down some marks
by which we may be able to distinguish that sorrow which enters
into true repentance fiom that which constitutes the false; —and
this may be done by asking ourselves the simple question, TFVhy
do we feel sorrow at all in the case? What is it that produces it?
If it is produced by any of the things which I will now specify, it is
clear that the sorrow furnishes no evidence of true repentance:(1.) If it is produced by the mere dread of punishment. It
is clear that in such a case the sorrow which exists is not in
view of the sin, but only of the penalty.  If the apprehension of
punishment were taken away, the sorrow also would disappear.
(2.) If it arises from the mere shame of detection. In such a
case there is clearly no evidence of true repentance. A man
may be greatly ashamed and grieved because some base, or
mean, or vile, or detestable act is found out, who would have
had no trouble on account of it if it had remained concealed.
His grief is, that he has been exposed, not that he has done the
wrong; and there are none, probably, who have not done many




326              TIIE WAY OF SALVATION.
things which would suffuse the cheeks with crimson if they were
known, but who have no compunctious visitings as long as they
are concealed.
(3.) A similar kind of false repentance or sorrow for the past
arises from the idea that a man has made a mistake, or is likely
to suffer loss on account of his conduct. When a man has made
a bargain which is likely to involve him in loss, when he has
missed an opportunity to make an advantageous bargain, he
often experiences regret, and in many cases reflects on himself
for his folly. So a man may feel in relation to his past life.
Hie looks at the nmoney which he has squandered, and the time
which he has wasted which ought to have been employed in
study or in honest industry; at the hours of his life which
he has trifled away in foolish conversation, or equally foolish
reading; and finds himself now placed at an eminent disadvantage on account of it, and if he has any proper sense of it,
will regret it. But still he may regret it, not as having any
sense of the wrong, or the sinfulness of his course, but only as a
matter of loss-and with much the same feeling that the man
has who has made a bad bargain.  If the loss could in any way
be made up to him, he would have no trouble on account of his
course considered as sinful.  So a daughter of vanity may exercise the same kind of repentance in view of the waste of time,
and the loss of health, in the ball-room. She has allowed her
rest to be broken; she has exposed herself unprotected by any
suitable dress to the cold of a winter's night after being heated
in the dance; and she begins to be alarmed at the paleness of
her own cheeks, and then at the slight hectic that she cannot
conceal, and then at the cough which will not leave her, and she
is sad and sorrowful as she sees that the grave must soon close
over her in spite of all that fiiends and physicians can do. But
there is necessarily no genuine repentance here-no sorrow for
the sin. She mourns over her faded health and beauty; over
her imprudent exposure; over the fact that she has wasted her
life;-but there is no sorrow that she has done wrong; that she
has offended God; that she has spent her time in the neglect of
her Saviour and her soul; and that she has jeoparded her
salvation.
(4.) There is often sorrow, and deep sorrow, in view of our
conduct considered as a violation of some law of etiquette, when
there is no sorrow for the act considered as a violation of the
law of God. I apprehend, that some of the deepest pangs that
are felt in this world are those which arise from the violation of
some social law; from  something that may expose you to the




EVIDENCES OF TRUE REPENTANCE.                 327
censure of so-called "society;" someithing that may occur to
throw you out of the fashionable circle il which you wish to
move; something that may forfeit the favour of those distinguished in elevated life, whose "good grace" you would wish to
preserve. Many.a votary of fashion experiences pangs of this
kind keener than ordinarily accompany true repentance towards
God; and amidst the ever-varying delusions of the human mind
it is possible that this may sometimes be mistaken for true
repentance.  You have offended the world; you have been disappointed in your attempts to secure its favour; you have been
thrown out of the circles where you were ambitious to shine;
and you turn your attention to religion, and suppose that you
come into the church a true penitent. And yet there may be
no evidence of repentance at all. You may never have had one
real sigh of regret for anything that you have ever done against
God; and you come weeping to the altar of Christ, not because
you have offendced him, but because you have been disappointed
in your foolish ambition to move in a circle from which you have
been excluded.
It would be easy to enumerate many other things of this sort
which may be mistaken for sincere repentance. The idea is, that
the sorrow which is produced by mere loss, or by the disgrace
of exposure, or by disappointed ambition-the sorrow  which
terminates on the world,-has in it necessarily none of the
elements of repentance.  I will not deny that any one of these
things may be the occasion of turning the mind to a contemplation of the evil of the course pursued, and that, impressed with
the folly of these things in one point of view, you may be led to
see their folly and wickedness in a higher sense.  But clearly,
in the matter as we have contemplated it thus far, there is of
necessity no true repentance, and a man may have all these
things, and never experience one pang of regret for his conduct
regarded as a sin against God.
The sense of what I have said, therefore, is this: —that true
repentance is based on the contemplation of an act regarded
as in itself evil and wrong; regardel as a sin against God.
Whether it exposes to punishment or not; whether it is detected
or undetected; whether attended with loss or with gain; whether
reputable in the eyes of the world or disreputable; and whether
it will continue us within the limits of the clique, or clan, or
caste where we have been, or raise us to that to which we have
aspired, does not affect the question. It is seen to be evil and
wrong in the sight of God, and the sin is loathed, and we loathe
ourselves on account of it. Our thoughts are not occupied
22




328              TIHE WAY OF SALVATION.
about the question of exposure or concealment; about the honour
or disgrace attending it; but about its intrinsic loathsomeness,
and hatefulness, and vileness. It follows, consequently, that the
true penitent, in dealing with his own heart, is more concerned
with those things that are unknown to the world, and of which
there is no danger that they should be known, than he is with
the fact that the "secret faults " that have been concealed from
every eye are now disclosed, or with those presumptuous sins
that every one sees. It is sorrow  for the wrong done; the
intrinsic evil; the loathsomeness, the vileness, the ingratitude,
the corruption of a heart seen to be blacker and viler than has
ever been suspected by the world.  When that sorrow exists,
and from  these causes, a man may trust that he has exercised
true repentance.
II. The second thing which I specified as entering into true
repentance is, the purpose deliberately formed in the mind to
abandon the evil. My meaning in this connexion is, that it is
not enough to have sorrow for the past, unless there is a purpose
corresponding with that sorrow, and co-extensive with it, to
forsake the evil course altogether. I will admit, also, in regard
to this, as in regard to the former, that even this would not be
full and complete evidence of the sincerity of repentance-for
(1,) the purpose, though formed, might not be adhered to; and,
(2,) there might be no opportunity to carry it into effect: but
there can be no true repentance, and no satisfactory evidence of
repentance, where this purpose is not formed.
To explain this remark still farther, it should be said, that the
purpose referred to is not one of distant and future amendment,
but is one which contemplates the immediate and entire abandonment of the evil; a direct " breaking off fiom transgressions by
righteousness, and by turning unto the Lord."  To resolve to
abandon a sinful course at some future period, however solemn
and sacred that resolution may be, is no evidence of present
repentance. In such a case, the actual state of the mind is seen
in the determination to continue the wrong-doing, and that state
indicates a prevailing love for the sin, and a determination to,practise it as long as it will be safe.
It is not difficult to persuade men to form purposes of future
amendment. Indeed, most men need no persuasion on that point,
but, however wicked they may be, they have in general made
up their minds to it already. The point of difficulty is, when
you come to persuade the man to resolve at once to give up
his habit of profane swearing; to become temperate; to forsake
the companionship of the vile; to abandon his dishonest acts in




EVIDENCES OF TRUE REPENTANCE.                  329
dealing; to commence the habit of family prayer; to begin to
serve the Lord. I should have no difficulty in so setting before
you the evils of a wicked life as to persuade you to resolve at
some future period to reform; my difficulty is in persuading you,
in view of a life perceivted to be wrong, to resolve at once to
break off from your evil ways. I wish now to show you that
there can be no evidence of repentance without this.
It surely cannot require many words to convince you that this
is so. In all the appeals that are made to men in the Bible to
repent of their sins, it is implied that there should be a resolution at once to forsake the evil. It is nowhere hinted-it would
be a mockery of all our conceptions of repentance if it were-that
men might resolve to pursue their evil courses a little longer,
intending then to return to the Lord. Nothing is more manifest
in the Scriptures than the duty of immediate repentance; of all
that is involved in a purpose to abandon an evil course as soon as
it is seen to be evil. We all see at once, that this accords with
all the conceptions that we have on the subject of repentance.
If a man does not thus resolve, whatever may be the expressions
of sorrow which he may utter for the past, it is clear that his
heart still loves the evil. The purpose, moreover, must relate to
entire abandonment of the evil in every form  and modification.
It will not do, for example, for a man to resolve to abandon the
open form of the sin, and to practise it in secret. It will not do
for him, constrained by public sentiment, to yield so far to that
public sentiment as to abandon the sin for the present, and to
retain the secret love of it in his heart, and to hope for the time
when by a change of public opinion it may be proper for him to
resume it. It will not do to resolve to give up one form of the
sin, and to practise it under a different name. It would not do
to take the capital which public sentiment or the laws should
forbid him  to employ in one way, and to invest it in a form
equally evil. It would not do, for example, for a man who had
a large capital invested in the slave-trade, to take that same
capital and build a distillery, or to sell out his distillery and
become the lessee of a theatre.  Where there is true repentance,
there must be a deliberate purpose to abandon evil in any and
every form, and in every modification.  The repentance, if
genuine, is not so much for the form of the evil, as it is for the
evil itself.
This is so plain, that it requires no farther remarks to prove,
that when there is true repentance there will be a purpose
deliberately formed to forsake evil as evil; to forsake all evil.
It is necessary here, as under the former head, only to make a




330              THE WAY OF SALVATION.
few remarks in order to distinguish true repentance from false,
considered in this view. It may be observed, then, that in this
aspect, more than in the former, a man may be led to resolve to
abandon a course of evil from  some motive which may be no
indication of sincere repentance. He will be still more likely to
resolve to abandon a course of conduct from some motive which
is no indication of true repentance, than he would be sincerely
to regret it. He may be induced to resolve to abandon an evil
course from any one of the following motives-and when these
are the motives, nothing can be inferred as to the genuineness of
repentance:-(1.) It may be because the course involves a loss
of property, and not because he is convinced of the wrong.
Thus a man might give up gambling, or horse-racing, because he
always loses; or a seller of ardent spirits might abandon the
traffic, because it makes so many bad debts; or a man might set
his slaves at liberty, because they are unprofitable. Desirable
and proper as the course in this and similar instances might be
in itself, yet the man should not infer that he has had any true
repentance for the wrong; for it is clear that if the business had
been profitable, he would have had no trouble on the subject.
In the same manner a man may resolve not to travel any more
on the sabbath, or to withdraw his investments from a sabbathbreaking railway company, not because he exactly sees that it is
wrong, but because he is apprehensive that in the end it will
prove to be unprofitable. (2.) A man may resolve to abandon
an evil course, because he is involved by it in disgrace. He has
become a drunkard, and he resolves to reform, not because he is
convinced of the evil and wrong of intemperance in itself considered, but because he has lost his character in the view of the
community, and is likely also to lose all his business. It is
evident that, in such a case, there would be no true repentance
for the cause considered as an evil, but only of regret for the
dishonour and disadvantage coming on him. (3.) In like manner,
a man may resolve to abandon a certain course because the
strong current of public sentiment is set against it.  Thus
multitudes are the friends of temperance,-not because they see
any evil in moderate drinking, and especially in wine-drinking;
and not because they have any sense of the goodness of God in
keeping them from the ruin into which others have fallen, who
began life in the same way in this respect with themselves; and
not because they have any compunction that they ever wasted
their own money, and squandered their own time, and jeoparded
their own souls, or ruined their sons or others by their own
example,-but because the public sentiment is changed. The




EVIDENCES OF TRUE REPENTANCE.                 331
result is indeed a good one, whatever is the motive-for it is a
great point gained when even one, from whatever cause, becomes
a warm, practical fiiend of thorough temperance; but let not
the man suppose that there is necessarily any principle in this,
or that there is any genuine regret for the evil of his own
example and life.
The sum of what I have said under this head of my discourse
is this:-that in true repentance there will always be a deliberate purpose to abandon every evil; but that so far as this
furnishes any evidence of true repentance everything depends on
the motive by which it is done.
III. The third point which I propose to illustrate is, that in
true repentance there will be an actual forsakizn  of sin; an
endeavour to arrest the progress of the sin at once, and to repair
its evils on ourselves and on others.  The essential idea here is,
that injury has been done by the life of sin, and that there is an
actual exertion to stay that injury-a closing up of the plan of
evil-a counter-influence of good commenced, to be continued
ever afterwards.  This occurred in the case mentioned in the
text; and it is so manifestly required in every instance of true
repentance that it would be improper even to attempt to prove
it. All that is necessary is to show what is implied in it. This
evidence of repentance, then, involves the following things:(1.) It involves an honest abandonment of the sin, no matter
how lucrative, how alluring, how reputable, or how honourable.
The eye in true repentance is fixed on the sin, not on the profit
or loss, the honour or dishonour.  When there is true repentance for a course of life, there will be an immediate cessation of
the wrong, no matter what may be involved in it-even though
it may be attended with the sacrifice of any amount of property.
At Ephesus there were many persons transacting a lucrative
business by a species of magic, employing a considerable investment of capital.  Many of those engaged in it became convinced
by the preaching of the apostles that the employment was evil,
and they " brought their books together, and burned them before
all men," amounting in value to fifty thousand pieces of silver,
Acts xix. 19. So if a man who has been engaged in the manufacture or sale of ardent spirits becomes convinced that the business is contrary to the word of God, it will be abandoned, no
matter what may be the pecuniary loss, or the effect on his
business.  The consideration of property as opposed to the will
of God in the case will not affect him for a moment. If he is a
true penitent, he will hereafter live an upright and a godly life.
He will seek another employment, or he will beg or starve rather




332             THE WAY OF SALVATION.
than persist in doing wrong. If a man is convinced that slavery
is sinful and wrong, no pecuniary consideration will induce him
to continue the relation for a moment longer; the only question
will be in regard to the welfare of those whom the law has recognised as under his protection. If a man is convinced that it is
wrong to run cars, or canal-boats, or stages on the sabbath, and
that it is wrong to be the owner of money thus invested, no
pecuniary consideration will induce him to retain property thus
invested; no pecuniary loss or sacrifice will prevent his withdrawing fiom the business. The sole question that passes before
the mind, when there is true repentance, is in regard to the right
and the wrong of any particular course of life; and when that is
settled, all is settled.
The remark now made may be extended to everything —even
to those things where no pecuniary sacrifice is involved. Whatever may be the nature of the sacrifice implied in giving up a
sinful course, it will be submitted to. For there are often sacrifices, on becoming a true penitent, greater than those of money.
If you have loved the gay world; if you have been the patron
of vanity and folly; if you have lived, not to honour God, but
to find pleasure in the theatre or the ball-room; if your heart
has become wedded to a life frivolous in the eyes of mortals, and
odious in the eyes of angels and of God, it may require of you a
sacrifice which gold could not well measure to give up this
course to which you have been devoted. Yet it is of the nature
of repentance for the follies of the past that it should be done.
What repentance requires, is not that you should come to the
altar with streaming eyes and a head bowed down like a bulrush to-day, to mingle in such scenes again to-morrow; but it is
that the evidence of your repentance should be manifest in the
place where wrong has been done. Your vacated seat at the
table of sinful hilarity and song; your vacated place where you
have been accustomed to be seen in the dance; your prompt and
decided expression of a purpose to lead a different life, when
allured to scenes where God is forgotten, and where religion cannot
be honoured, is the way, and the only way in respect to this
in which you can evince true penitence for the past, and satisfy
the world that you mean to live for nobler ends.
(2.) True repentance, as it respects the conduct, and as the
evidence of it is to be found in the conduct, involves a course of
life that is fitted to repair the evil which we have done to ourselves by our former lives. We cannot, indeed, even in the most
thorough repentance, do this entirely. We cannot recall the
wasted hours; we cannot recover the money that we have lost




EVIDENCES OF TRUE REPENTANCE.                333
by vicious indulgence; we cannot at once restore health to the
body enervated by dissipation-perhaps we can never do it perfectly,-but we can set about an honest purpose to repair the
evil by a different course of life, as far as it may be possible.
We cannot, indeed, recover the hours already wasted; but we
may resolve that there shall be no more wasted, and we may be
at such a time of life that the squandered part shall not mzaterially affect our ultimate attainments and usefulness. We cannot
recover our squandered property; but we can so regulate our
lives that there shall be no more squandered, and so that we
may acquire all that shall be necessary for our own wants and
the wants of our families, and so as to furnish us the means of
doing extensive good. We may have, indeed, injured our health;
but the injury may not be irreparable, and we may resolve that
the wrong done shall be carried no farther, and we may yet
be enabled to pursue our task of life with restored and invigorated powers. If there is such a purpose at once to check and
arrest the progress of the evil on ourselves, there is evidence
of genuine repentance for the past; if there is not, sighs, and
tears, and professions amount to nothing.
(3.) The evidence of repentance implied in our conduct invoves
also such a course of life as shall repair, as far as possible, the
injury done to others. There is much, indeed, here which cannot
be repaired.  You cannot recall from the grave the man who
has been deprived of life; you cannot bring to the cheerful light
of the living, the father and the mother whose hearts have been
broken by your misconduct, and who have gone down with
sorrow to the tomb; you cannot make the hair of a father that
has been turned prematurely grey by your ingratitude and folly,
black and glossy again; you cannot restore to innocence the
deluded victim whom you have ruined by your seductive arts,
your example, or your bad principles.
But you may, notwithstanding, do much to repair the evil
which you have done to others. A wounded father's heart you
may heal by a frank confession, and by a subsequent life of strict
propriety and virtue. A wrong which you have done to another
by dishonesty and fraud, you may in a great measure repair by
confession, and by an honest restoration of all that you have
taken from him by fraud.  And though in many cases it may
be beyond your power to undo the wrong that you have done
to them, yet you may more than compensate for this to the world
by the service which you may render to society. In a battle,
you have at one moment proved yourself to be a coward, and
the battle may be lost; but in a hundred subsequent engage



334              THE AWAY OF SALVATION.
ments you may be faithful to your standard, carrying it into the
very camp of the enemy. You may have made one infidel by
your example or bad principles, and you can never save him
now from the blighting influence of infidelity; but by a consistent and zealous Christian life you may save hundreds of
others from becoming infidels.  In the days of your sin and
folly you may have led one ingenuous and noble youth to love
the intoxicating glass, and no effort of yours can sav& him froni
a drunkard's grave; but by becoming now the warm and consistent friend of temperance, you may be the means of saving
hundreds of such youths from such a grave; and so far as society
is concerned, you may do an hundredfold to repair the wrong.
Saul of Tarsus, when he was converted, could never recall to
life the martyred Stephen; nor could he bring back to the earth
those whom he had imprisoned, and against whom he gave his
voice when they were put to death; but he could devote his
great talents to the work of propagating the religion which he
had persecuted, and save thousands and tens of thousands from
a more dreadful death than that of the martyrs. He did it. He
set about the great work of repairing the wrongs which he had
(lone to the world as a persecutor; and the sincerity of his repentance was evinced not only by his expressions of deep humiliation and sorrow in view of the past-by his solemn declaration that he was the "least of all the apostles," and was not
" fit to be called an apostle, because he persecuted the church of
God,"-but by such a life of devotedness to a righteous cause as
man never before led, and by a career pursued in repairing the
wrong, which was felt to the ends of the earth, and which will
continue to be felt to the end of time.
In this abandonment of an evil course; in this struggle against
sin; in this solemn purpose to forsake that which has been seen
to be wrong, and in this honest and persevering effort to repair
the injuries which have been dane by our past misconduct, is to
be found the evidence of true repentance.
We may learn fiom our subject,
(1.) That there is much false repentance in the world. There
is much sorrow that expends itself in sighs and tears and temporary emotion, and that " brings forth no fruit meet for repentance."
There is much forsaking of sin for other reasons than because it
is seen t6 be wrong. It is abandoned because it is unprofitable; or
because it is unfashionable; or because it does not comport with
good breeding and the maintenance of the character of a gentleman; or because the popular sentiment sets strongly against it;
or because it is expensive, and cannot well be afforded; and not




EVIDENCES OF TRUE REPENTANCE.                   335
because there is any deep sense of the evil. The evil is still
loved, and you would be ready to practise it again if your own
circumstances, or the views of the public, should be changed.
So, many men break off fiom certain sins, not because they hate
them, but because they are growing old, and can no longer
enjoy them; many do it, not because their views are changed,
but because they are laid on a bed of pain, and the hour of death
draweth near.  It becomes, therefore, obviously a very solemn
duty for each one to examine his own heart, to ascertain why
it is that he has forsaken the paths in which he once so
cheerfully walked.
(2.) We may see the reason why a death-bed repentance is of
so little value.  Jeremy Taylor maintained that a death-bed
repentance is impossible.  There could not be, he said, evideence
furnished that it is sincere and genuine. But, whatever may be
true on that point, our subject teaches us that all the evidence
furnished by a death-bed repentance is of very little value. A
moment's reflection, it would seem, would satisfy any one of the
truth of this remark.  Let him think how many regrets are felt
by those in health for their past conduct, which never amount to
true penitence; how  many expressions of sorrow  are made,
followed by no correspondent action; how many alarms are felt:tat produce no turning from  sill; how  many resolutions are
formed only to be disregarded; and then let him reflect on the
usual condition of the mind on a death-bed:-how incapable of
calm  reflection; how likely to act from  the influence of mere
alarm; how often it is wholly or partially delirious,-and he will
see how little dependence is to be placed on expressions of peniLence in such circumstances.  Let him  ask himself also how
nlany in the sphere of his observation there have been, who on a
sick bed have resolved to forsake their sins and to live to God,
but who on their recoveryl have shown that their repentance
was false and hollow, and he will learn what to think of that
repentance when  there has been no such recovery. It is a
common thing for men when they are sick, and suppose that
they are about to die, to become apparently penitent and religious; —— not common for them when they recover to give evidence
that the repentance was genuine. In a ministry now of learly
thirty years, I have had opportunity to see many sick and
dying persons.  In all that time I cannot now recall a solitary
instance of one who became apparently penitent on a sick-bed,
who furnished any evidence in his subsequent life that it was
genuine.  Now, if this be so in the usual cases of restoration to
health, I would not say that it would absolutely prove that in




336             THE WAY OF SALVATION.
cases which terminated differently there was no evidence of true
repentance; but who can help asking  the  question, What
evidence would they have probably furnished, if they had been
restored again to health?
(3.) Finally, the conclusion of the whole matter then is this:
If we would have evidence of repentance that is worth anythingthat will furnish consolation to our friends when we are gonethat will enable them to go and bend over our graves with the
consolation derived from the belief that we are in heaven; if
we would have them go and inscribe on the stone which marks
the place where we sleep, in an intelligent manner, some simple
and sweet passage of the word of God indicating their belief
that we are happy, or have them plant there the flower which
as it blooms from spring to spring shall be expressive of the
hope that we shall be raised to life and glory, that evidence
must be found in a life of piety so uniform as to show that we
hate all the ways of sin. It must be founded on the workings of
our minds in their best state, and in their maturest powers.
And for myself, I desire to have, and to leave to my friends in
that hour when, so far as this world is concerned, I shall give
them the parting hand, a hope not derived from the workings of
a mind broken and prostrate by age or disease, or from  an
expression of regret then wrung from my dying lips-but a hope
derived from the best exercise of my intellect and my heart in
my maturest days, employed with prayerful energy, and assisted
by the grace of God, on the great subject of religion. No other
subject so demands the exercise of those powers; nothing else
would I desire to have placed on so firm a basis, and so far
beyond the danger of deception, as my hope of immortality.




SERM3ON XXVI.
FAITH A CONDITION OF SALVATION.
MARK xvi. 16.-" He that believeth, and is baptized, shall be saved."
IN illustrating this text, I propose to answer the question, why
faith has been demanded as one of the conditions of salvation.
The objections to giving such prominence to faith in a system of
revealed religion, and to making the whole question of salvation
turn on it, are objections more commonly felt than urged; but
they are such that it will not do to pass them by as unworthy
of notice. They are such as these:-that the rewards which
God has to dispense to men are elsewhere bestowed, not according to their faith, but according to their character and conduct;
that it would seem  to be proper that the retributions of the
future state should be according to what a man does, and not
according to what he belieres; that it is not probable that the
retributions of eternity would be made to turn on any mere state
of mind, and that if they did, there is no reason why the state
of mind implied in faith should be selected in preference to any
other; and that to make eternal life depend on the exercise of
faith is, in fact, to propose a reward for credulity, and to justify
the remark sneeringly made by the sceptic, that " our holy
religion is founded on faith, not on reason."'  Perhaps to these
oljections, some would be disposed to add another, that even the
Scriptures themselves declare that when the rewards of eternity
shall be apportioned on the final trial, the retribution will be
" according to the deeds done in the body," and that the grand
question which will come up will be, not what a man has
believed, but what he has done.
These objections are worthy of particular consideration.  I
propose, then, to draw your attention to the inquiry why faith in
the Lord Jesus Christ has been made an indispensable condition
of salvation.  The inquiry will be exhausted if the following
points can be made clear:-that it is proper that there should
be some conditions of salvation; what would be the proper
characteristics of such conditions; and whether these characteristics are found in the faith that is required in the gospel.
* Hume.




338              THE WAY OF SALVATION.
You will perceive that the argument which I propose to conduct is one that is to be derived very materially from an appeal
to the common sense of men, and will rest much on what calni
reflection will show to each one to be proper in the case. I
regard this mode of argument as legitimate, because I suppose
that, in fact, the gospel makes its appeal to the common sense of
mankind, and is to be kept up by that from age to age.
I. It is proper that there should be some conditions of salvation;
that is, that there should be something in view of which the
rewards of eternal life shall be bestowed, or which will constitute the public reason why they are bestowed.  The essential
idea here is, that in order to our being saved, there should be
something on our part which will indicate our wish to be saved;
or which. will show that we regard salvation as a great and
desirable thing, and that we are willing to be saved in the
method proposed.  This proposition is so clear, that I suppose
it will be admitted by all persons, unless it be held that all men
will be saved; and even then it would hardly be maintained that
men would be saved without any conditions-that is, without
anything that would be a public and sufficient reason why they
should be admitted into heaven.
That, if men are saved, there are to be some conditions on
which it is to be done, seems to be clear, because it is the universal law under which we live.  There are certain well-understood terms on which we expect that the Divine favours will be
bestowed, and the knowledge of these constitutes the basis of all
our calculations and efforts.  It is true that favours are sometimes conferred without respect to any known conditions; but
it is also true that such interpositions are very rare, and that
they never enter into a wise man's calculations as a basis of
action.  Thus, sometimes, a man may, in pulling up a shrub, like
Atahualpi, open a vein of silver; sometimes a man may discover
a valuable mine of gold or copper on his farm; sometimes he
may unexpectedly be found to be heir to a great estate in a distant land; or some one of whom he knows little, and on whom
he may have no claim, may, by a mere freak, leave all his property to him by will.  But these things occur so rarely, and are
regulated by laws so subtle, if regulated by laws at all, that they
are not the ordinary rules on which men act, and they can never
enter into the calculations of a wise man.  As there are no
known conditions on which they are regulated, we do not form
our plans in view of them, and, in fact, our plans are the same
as if it were understood that they were never to occur.
The great law under which we act is different.  It is, that




FAITH  A CONDITION  OF SALVATION.                 339
there are conditions on which all that we hope for depends.
There are things appointed by which we are to show our interest
in it; our sense of its value; our desire to obtain it. If we are
to havze anything, it is on certain conditions:-if wealth, we arcO
to labour for it; if health, we are to take proper precautions in.
regard to it; if reputation, we are to show that we deserve it,
There is not one thing which we expect under the operation of
chance or hap-hazard, or which a wise man would calculate on
fiom that source; and since this is the general law under which
we live, no one can complain that the offer of heaven is put on
the same footing.  In fact, no one does complain.  Each man
supposes that there is some condition on which eternal happiness may be obtained. Each one supposes in his heart that he
does certain things, or that he believes certain things, which will
be regarded as the ground or reason why he should be made
happy hereafter.  One man, with this view, maintains a life of
strict integrity and honesty; another is kind to his family, to
the distressed, to the poor; another is the friend of his country,
and glories in the name of a patriot; another is zealous in the
outward duties of religion; another puts on a hair cloth, and
immures himself in a convent; another makes a pilgrimage to a
distant shrine; another believes that there is one God, and that
Mohammed is his prophet; and another believes that Jesus is
the Christ, the Son of the Blessed, and looks for salvation only
through him. In all these, and in all the other methods by
which men hope to be saved, there is something which they
regard as a condition of salvation; that is, something which will
indicate such a desire for salvation, or such a fitness for it, that
it will constitute a public reason why they should be saved, and
not lost.
It may be regarded, then, as the common opinion of mankind,
that there should be some conditions of salvation, and this common
opinion evidently accords with the Scriptures.
II. The second inquiry proposed was, W7hat are the proper
characteristics of such conditions?  Making our appeal to the
common sense of men, and to their observation in regard to the
manner in which the Divine favour on other subjects than religion is bestowed, it will not be difficult to furnish an answer
to this question.  The following seem to me to be obvious and
just principles in the case.
(1.) The conditions of salvation should be as easy as possible,
consistently with the maintenance of other interests.  That is,
they should be such as not to put salvation out of the power of
any for whom it is designed, and to whom it is proposed.  There




340              THE WAY OF SALVATION.
might be other important interests to be looked at and secured,
but evidently this is one, and one which could not be overlooked.
If the other interests could not be secured consistently with this,
it is clear that no offer of salvation could be made.  If a garrison
were besieged, and a surrender were proposed and agreed on, it
is plain that the conditions of the surrender should be such as
could be easily complied with by all who were embraced in the
articles; and if women and children were included in the number,
it would be the height of injustice to make the terms such that
they could be complied with only by armed warriors in their
full strength, and that deliverance could be secured only by the
highest skill of military discipline.  So in salvation. A proposal
for salvation should be such as will be adapted to all. It should
be such as can be embraced by all. It should therefore be of
such a general character that it would be applicable to all,
and so easy that all could avail themselves of it.  But who are
the " all" embraced in a plan of salvation?  Not philosophers
merely; not men of learning, and rank, and experience, and
wealth, and age only;-but women, children, servants; the poor,
the unlettered, the down-trodden; the savage, as well as the
freeman and the man of civilized life. It is quite clear that a
condition of salvation mqyht be conceived of that could be complied with by a man of the intellectual power of Plato or Bacon,
which would be entirely beyond the grasp of a child or a savage;
and yet it is as clear that in a system of religion designed for
man, there were important reasons why the question of salvation
should be made to turn on some one thing that could be complied with by all.  It would be very easy to show that the
distinctions made in this world by rank, and wealth, and talent
are not such as it would be desirable to perpetuate in heaven,
and therefore not such as could properly be laid at the foundation of a system of true religion on earth.
(2.) The conditions should, if possible, be such as would meet
certain evils which already existed, or which would be likely to
exist, if salvation were not provided.  Thus, for example, in the
methods by which property is to be bestowed on men, it would
seem to be desirable, and in fact to have been a leading thing in
the plan, to meet the evils which would grow out of indolence;
and at the same time that property was conferred, to colfer a
much greater benefit on the character by the very method by
which it was to be obtained.  For, there are great and undeniable evils in indolence.  There are great evils which exist when
property can be acquired without the necessity of effort.  There
would be incalculable evils to mankind if their wants were all




FAITH A CONDITION OF SALVATION.               341
supplied without the necessity of exertion. The hard soil; the
stern climate; the very rocks of New England, are more favourable to good influences on the character than the soil and climate
by which all the wants of man may be supplied under the
equator; and every blow which man is obliged to strike to
secure property, is of more value to him than the property which
he obtains.  So all the exertions which are necessary to secure
health, or honourable reputation, or a comfortable home, are
designed to meet certain evils which would exist if these exertions
were not necessary, and which do exist always when the ends
can be reached without those means. It would be an incalculable evil for man if God should build houses for him as he
creates trees; if he made wheat to grow as he does cockle and
clover; if he created flax and hemp as he does nettles and brambles; if he manufactured the robes of princes as he does those in
which the lily of the valley is adorned; and if he clothed the
daughters of men with rich attire and with brilliant ornaments,
as he gives its beauty to the humming-bird or the flamingo.
Every exertion which he has made necessary for man or for
woman has been designed to meet some evil which would exist
if such exertion were not required; and every condition which
he has imposed on which these things are to be obtained, is an
arrangement of benevolence. On the same principle, in making
arrangements for salvation, if there were any existing evils in
the mind of man by nature, or any things which would be evils
if salvation had not been provided, it might be presumed that
there would be an eye to those evils in arranging the terms on
which men might be saved. If, for example, there were evils
which arose from the want of faith in God, it might be presumed
that the conditions of salvation would have some reference to
those evils, and would be adapted to correct them.
(3.) The conditions of salvation should be such as to show, on.
the part of him who would obtain it, an interest in the thing,
and a desire to secure it, which would be in some degree commensurate with its importance. We may argue this because it
is actually the condition under which we live. The efforts
which men are willing to put forth, the self-denials which they
are willing to practise, the perils which they are willing to
encounter, furnish the measure of their estimate of the value of
the object. It seems to have been a general principle of the
Divine arrangements not to bestow favours on men unless they
showed that they so valued them as to be willing to make efforts
to procure them. Thus, the danger encountered by the pearldiver, shows his sense of the value of the pearl;, the labour




342  -THE WAY OF SALVATION.
which a farmer is willing to lay out on his farm, shows his
estimate of the value of the harvest; the perils which a merchant
will encounter to procure in a far-distant city a stock of goods,
show his sense of the value of gain; the willing privations to
which the soldier submits in the tented field, show his sense of
the worth of glory.  The degree of interest which we have in
anything is expressed in this way, and so expressed as to be
intelligible to all men.
It could not be expected that salvation would be conferred on
us in any way in which our desire for it should not be expressed,
any more than it would be expected that diamonds, or gold, or
earthly crowns would be. Accordingly it would be reasonable
to suppose that the conditions of salvation would be such that
by complying with them there might be the honest indication of
a desire to be saved. It would be unaccountable, if the matter of
salvation should be arranged in this respect in a way unlike
anything else; and if we should find that it was bestowed upon
men where no desire was expressed, and there was nothing
which could be construed into a wish to be saved.
(4.) The conditions of salvation should be clearly such as to
have a good influence on the character; to enlarge the mind; to
elevate the aims; to cultivate the nobler powers of our nature.
This may be observed to be the character and tendency of all
the conditions which God has made necessary, in securing any
object which he approves. The cultivation of the earth, for
example, is in itself adapted to produce a happier effect on the
human mind in keeping it pure, and raising the thoughts to
God, than any other worldly occupation-for it had more
directly the appointment of the Deity. In that appointment,
emanating as it did from God, there is nothing in itself that is
fitted to enfeeble the mind; to debase the powers; to degrade
our nature; to arouse gross and sensual propensities; to excite
mad and turbulent passions. So in the appointment respecting
salvation, it cannot be supposed that the conditions would be
such as to debase -and degrade our nature; it cannot be believed
that anything would be specified that would call forth our
sensual propensities,.or that would make our views more contracted and narrow. We should look for that which will expand
the mind; which will elevate the thoughts to higher objects than
those on the earth; which will lead us up to God, and to the
contemplation of nobler relations than any which we sustain
here below.  Whether faith, as a condition of salvation, is
adapted to open the eyes on other worlds, and to bring higher
and more important relations and interests to view than those




FAITH  A CONDiTION  OF SALVATION.                 343
disclosed by sense, would be a fair and legitimate subject of
inquiry.
III. The third inquiry proposed was, TWhether these characteristics are found in the requirement of faith as a condition of
salvation?  In answering this question, it would be easy to go
over again the points which have been specified, and to show, in
regard to faith as a condition of salvation, that it is one of the
easiest terms which could be proposed, and that it is adapted to
man as such-to all classes of men; that it meets certain great
evils in the world which have been originated by the want of
faith, and which have always existed where there has been no
confidence in God; that it is a condition in which the highest
interest may be shown in salvation, and the highest desire to be
saved; and that it is fitted eminently to elevate the thoughts,
and to purify the heart, and to accomplish just those effects
which ought to be accomplished on the mind of a being like
man, leading him  to act, not under the influence of sense, but
with reference to the world to come.  But to dwell on these
points would be only to go over the ground again which we
have already trod; and the subject is capable of illustration in a
somewhat different form, and in a manner that shall bear more
directly on the question why faith in  Christ particularly is
required in order to salvation.
Bearing in mind the remarks now made-that a. restoration
to confidence would meet innumerable evils in a family, in a commlercial communlity, between neighbours, and between nations,
where it had been disturbed, and that the restoration of confidence in God would meet all the evils under which this world
labours now,-I proceed to show why faith in Christ particularly
is made so important as a condition of salvation.  With reference
to this, two remarks may be made.
(1.) The first is, that we are to repose faith or confidence in
Christ, as authorized to negotiate the terms of reconciliation
between God and man.  The whole system of revealed religion
proceeds on the fact-a fact which is apparent without any
revelation-that an alienation exists between God and man, or
that man is in a state of revolt. It was with reference to this
alienation that the Son of God came into the world, to accomplish the most difficult of all undertakings, that of reconciling
opposing minds, and of bringing them  into harmony.  On the
one hand, there was the Infinite Mind of God, whose law had
been violated, and whose government had been rejected and
outraged, and whose threatenings had been disregarded; and on
the other, there were countless nillions of minds that were or




34d   T     THE WAY OF SALVATION.
would be wholly alienated from the Creator. To bring the holy
Creator and the millions of rebellious created minds to harmony;
to propose the terms on which God was willing to pardon; to
make such arrangements that he could consistently pardon; and
to bring the minds of revolted men to a willingness to be
reconciled, and to cease their rebellion,-was the work undertaken
by this Great Peacemaker.
But it is evident that this work could not be accomplished by
him, unless there were confidence in him on both sides of this
unhappy controversy. In infinitely smaller matters, when nations
are alienated, and have long been contending, if a mediator
should propose arrangements of peace, or if ambassadors are
appointed to negotiate a peace, it is clear that the matter could
not proceed a step, unless there were confidence on both sides in
the mediator or ambassador.
Christ is a great Mediator; a Peacemaker between God and
man. On the pa;t of God, there was every reason to repose
entire confidence in so great an undertaking; for he was his
only-begotten Son, eternally in his bosom, and loved, with an
infinite love, before the foundation of the world, John xvii. 24.
By him  the worlds had been made (John i. 3; Heb. i. 2); by
him they had been sustained; and under him, with reference to
the work of redemption, their affairs had been administered up
to the time when he appeared in the flesh. God the Father
reposed unlimited confidence in him when he appointed him to
be the Mediator, and entrusted to him  the execution of the
great purpose of reconciling the world again to the Divine
government. This confidence reposed in Christ in the work of
mediation is often referred to in the New Testament by the
Saviour himself, and by the sacred penmen. "This is my
beloved Son," was declared from heaven at his baptism, " in whom
I am well pleased," Matt. iii. 17. "Father," said the Saviour,
just before his death, " glorify thy name. Then came there a
voice from heaven, saying, I have both glorified it, and will
glorify it again," John xii. 28. " Thou hast given him power,"
said he again, " over all flesh, that he should give eternal life to
as many as thou hast given him," John xvii. 2. " All power is
given unto me in heaven and in earth; go ye therefore and
teach all nations," Matt. xxviii. 18, 19. " I am the way," said he,
" and the truth, and the life; no man cometh unto the Father but
by me," John xiv. 6. So we are told that " there is one God,
and one Mediator between God and men, the man Christ Jesus,"
1 Tim. ii. 5. These things show the degree of confidence which
God reposed in him in the work of mediation-entrusting to




FAITH  A CONDITION OF SALVATION.               345
him the message of mercy, appointing him to convey it to men,
and endowing him as Mediator with all the power and authority
which were requisite to accomplish so great a work.
But confidence in Christ is not less required in regard to the
other party than in respect of Him who had appointed him. It
is clear that, unless we have confidence in him as the messenger
and ambassador of God; unless we regard him as sent from heaven
and authorized to propose terms of reconciliation; unless we feel
that he can make a definite arrangement, and that what he proposes will be sanctioned by God; unless we feel that he is
authorized to propose terms of pardon, and to declare our sins
forgiven, and to pronounce us accepted and justified, it would be
impossible for us to avail ourselves of any arrangement for
salvation through him. We should feel that we were trifling
with a great subject; and in our serious moments, and when we
think of the great interests at stake, we should be in no humour
to trifle.  None of us would seriously think of embracing any
terms of reconciliation with God proposed by Mohammed, or
Zoroaster, or Confucius; by Lord Herbert or Mr. Hume; for
we suppose that none of these men were authorized to propose
terms of salvation; we have no faith in them-no confidence in
them as ambassadors of God, whatever we may think of them in
other respects.  We should feel no more safe in regard to salvation after such a negotiation than we did before. The primary
ground of faith, therefore, in Christ is, that we should have confidence in him as a mediator, an ambassador, a peacemaker; as
authorized to propose to us the terms on which peace may be
obtained with an offended Creator. All this was involved in
the idea of the lfessiahsloip, and particularly of his being the
" Great Prophet that should come into the world."  " If ye
believe not that I am he, ye shall die in your sins," John viii. 24.'(2.) The second remark to which I referred, showing specifically
why faith in Christ is demanded, is, that he himself is in fact the
only Saviour; it is by his agency and merits only that we can
be received into the favour of God. He came not only to bring
the message of reconciliation, and to propose the terms, but to do
and to suffer whatever was necessary to be done and suffered in
order that we might be accepted of the Father, or in order that
we might be saved consistently with the interests of justice.
The case somewhat resembles what it would be in the instance
of an ambassador coming to negotiate a peace, who should not
only come to propose the terms, but should actually have in his
possession that which alone could be regarded as a reparation
for wrong done by one of the parties to the other, and who




346               THE WAY  OF SALVATION.
should come not only to persuade the party which had done the
wrong to be willing to be reconciled, but also to take the benefit
of what he was ready to furnish to repair all the evil done, and
to satisfy the other party.  In such a case, it would not be unreasonable to ask coinfidence in himself, or to make this one of
the conditions by which the favour might be available. In fact,
it could not be consistently made available in any other way, or
on any other condition; and unless there were faith in him, the
negotiation could proceed no further.
Thus, we are required to exercise faith in the Lord Jesus.
~We are destitute of merit. We have violated the law of God,
and can do nothing to repair the wrong.  We are debtors to an
incalculable amount to justice; and we have nothing with which
to pay the debt.  We can do absolutely nothing to vindicate our
own conduct; to repair the past wrong; to undo the evils that
we have done; to make up for the dishonour which we have
put on the law of God, to atone for our thousands of faults and
follies.  At this point the Son of God appears, and he comes
with the assurance that he has himself perfectly obeyed the law,
and has done all the honour to it which can be done by obedience;
that he has suffered a most bitter death-a death aggravated by
every form of cruelty-as an expiation for our sins; that he
will become the guarantee or surety that the law shall suffer no
dishonour if we are saved, and that no injury shall result fiom
our pardon; that in fact all the good effects have been secured
which could be by our being doomed to bear the penalty of the
law  ourselves; and that all that is needful for us now  is to
become united to him by an indissoluble bond, to put ourselves
under his protection, and to be so identified with him  that it
will be proper to treat us as he is treated-to treat us as if we
had personally obeyed the law, or borne its penalty.  That
which will constitute the closest union in the case, and which
will do most to render this identity of treatment proper, is jtiith;
simple confidence in him  as our Saviour, and reliance on his
merits.  If that exists, we are safe-safe as he is, and destined
to the same glorious inheritance in heaven; if that does not
exist, we are left as we were without a Saviour, and the law is
suffered to take its course, and we perish.  The primary ground
of condemnation is not that we have not believed on him-but it
is, that we were before under condemnation for our sins, and
should have been whether he had come to save us or not. That,
however, is greatly aggravated, showing at once the justice of
the previous ground of condemnation, and greatly enhancing
it, that we did not embrace his offered conditions of deliverance:




FAITH  A CONDITION  OF SALVATION.              347
as when a man is sick, and is likely to die, and certainly will
die if he does not take a certain medicine, and yet refuses to
take it, the primary ground of the difficulty is not that he wrill
not take the medicine; the main, the essential difficulty preceded
that, and would have existed whether the medicine had been
provided or not-but, as a moral being, his case may be greatly
aggravated by rejecting the only thing which would save him
from the grave.
I have thus stated some of the reasons, as I understand them,
why faith in the Redeemer is required as one of the indispensable conditions of salvation. Two remarks may be suggested in
conclusion:(1.) The gospel is adapted to man. Its conditions are of such
a nature as was clearly proper in a system of religion designed
for man, as such, contemplating the race as made up of a great
variety of classes and conditions-the rich and the poor; the
high and the low; the free and the bond; the learned and the
ignorant. It was plain that the terms should not be such as would
be adapted to one class to the exclusion of another, but should
have such a reference to what was common to us as men, and
what was practicable, that they might be embraced by all. Thus
salvation resembles all the arrangements which God has made
for the race-and is like the air which we breathe, and the
water which we drink at the fountain, and the fruit which we
pluck from the tree,-adapted not to kings and philosophers only,
but to children and peasants; not to princesses only that shine in
courts, and delicate females that "will not adventure the sole of
the foot upon the ground," but to her who has her home in the
most secluded valley, or who, in the wildest sportiveness of nature,
trips lightly over the hills. And to despise religion on this
account; to pass it by neglected; to deem it unworthy of our
notice because it has been embraced, and loved, and enjoyed by
the poor, the uneducated, the unrefined-is as wise as it would
be to refuse to breathe the air of heaven because those of humbler
rank breathe it; or to taste the water of the fountain because
"one on whom  fair science never dawned" stoops down and
drinks there; or to refuse to find pleasure in the landscape, or
the light of the sun, because some poor slave has seen beauty in
the prospect, and felt his soul expand with the feeling that he
was a creature of God-or because some poor wretch has looked
out from the grated window of a dungeon, and felt a ray of
comfort come into his soul as he was permitted to see the beams
of the morning illuminate the tops of the distant hills.
(2.) It follows, that if there are conditions proposed for salva



348               THE WAY OF SALVATION.
tion, if these conditions are not complied with, then there is no
rational ground for hope of eternal life. So we feel and know
about other things; and why shall we not about salvation? We
avail ourselves of the conditions on which property, health, reputation, may be obtained; and feel that the only rational basis
of hope in the case is, that we comply with the terms on which
these things are offered to men.  If we are unwilling to comply
with these conditions, and the favour is withheld, we feel that
we have only ourselves to blame.  But these terms are not as
easy as those on which salvation is offered.  It is easier for a
man to be certain of going to heaven, than it is to be certain of
being rich, or of enjoying health, or of being honoured.  A very
small part of the toil which the merchant or the farmer endures
to procure wealth; a very small part of the self-denial which
the soldier practises to obtain honour; a very small part of the
painstaking which the invalid resorts to when he goes to other
lands to restore himself to health-and often in each case in
vain-would secure beyond doubt the salvation of the soul. The
means appointed are more easy; the result is more certain from
the voice of experience; the promise is more sure. But if man
will not employ those means, why should he not fail of salvation,
just as certainly as he must be poor, or sick, or unhonoured, if
he gives himself up to indolence, and makes no effort to be rich,
vigorous in body, or honoured? And if at last he perishes, when
the conditions of salvation were so easy and so available, whom
shall he blame but himself?  And how can he avoid perishing
if he will not avail himself of the only terms on which God has
ever promised eternal life? In view, then, of all these considerations, I repeat once more the solemn declaration of Him who is
"the way, the truth, and the life," your final Judge and mine:" He that believeth, and is baptized, shall be saved; and he that
believeth not shall be damned,"




SERMON XXVII.
THE VALUE AND IMPORTANCE OF FAITH.
HEB. xi. 6.-" But without faith it is impossible to please him: for he
that cometh to God must believe that he is, and that he is a rewarder
of them that diligently seek him."
THERE are two points of inquiry respecting faith which I next
propose to consider: — one is, the place which faith occupies
in the system of revealed religion; and the other, the reason why
such a degree of prominence has been given to it.
I. The place which faith occupies in the system of revealed.
religion.
No one can mistake as to this. It is declared to be indispensable
to salvation; the whole question of life or death is made to depend
on it; it is necessary in order to avail ourselves of the benefit of
the death of Christ; the opposite of faith, i. e. unbelief, is condemned
in the most unambiguous manner, and it is solemnly declared that
the want of it shall for ever exclude from the kingdom of God.
It is unequivocally stated in the New Testament, that where there
is not faith there is no true religion, and that no one can approach
God with any hope of acceptance without it. It is made one of the
conditions of salvation which are never dispensed with; and whatever else a man may have, if he have not this, it is declared that
he cannot be saved.
The following passages of the New Testament will show the
place which faith occupies in the Christian system, and, though
familiar, seem necessary to be repeated in order to prepare for the
remarks which I have to make in explanation of the subject.
" Ie that believeth, and is baptized, shall be saved; but he that
believeth  not shall be damned," Mark xvi. 16.  " He that
believeth on him is not condemned; but he that believeth not is
condemned already, because he hath not believed in the name of
the only-begotten Son of God," John iii. 18. " He that believeth
hath everlasting life, and he that believeth not the Son shall not see
life, but the wrath of God abideth on him," John iii. 36. " If ye
believe not that I am he, ye shall die in your sins; and where I am,
thither ye cannot come," John viii. 24, and vii. 34.  So the text:




350                THE  WAY  OF SALV.ATION.
"Without faith, it is impossible to please him; for he that cometh
to God must believe that he is, and that he is a rewarder of them
that diligently seek himn..
Such passages settle the question in regard to the prominence
which faith occupies in the system of revealed religion, and show
that, in that system, the whole subject of man's salvation is made
to depend on it.  It is one of the two indispensable things on
iwhich the salvation of any of the race is made to rest.
Now  to this view  of the importance of faith in a system  of
religion, I need nlot say that numerous objections at once occur
to many minds.  The prominence given in Christianity to faith
has been a standing objection urged by infidels against the system 
and even in minds not inclined to scepticism  there are difficulties which are not easy to  be removed.   Mr. Hume, in  his
Essay on Mliracles, remarks with a sneer, that "our most holy
religion is founded onjfaith, not on reason;" and then proceeds to
show that it is not safe to subject it to any severe test of reason.
The most material objections, anud those which involve real
difficulty in regard to the prominence given toJaitih in the system
of Christianity, are the following:(1.) That it is an arbitrary arrangement; thlat faith in itself
has no such essential prominency and importance as to make it
proper to select this as a condition of salvation; that as a mental
exercise it has no peculiar dignity or value over other mental
exercises which should have led to its selection; and that, in
itself considered, there is no more reason whyfaith should ha-ve
been selected as a condition of salvation thlan why, for example,
hope, or fear, or love should  have been.
( T.) That salvation should not be mlade to depend on a(ny mere
mental operation; that thle rewards of heaven and hell should be
apportioned rather to the character and conduct than to any mere
state of mind, that we judge of men, noIt by what they belicve,
but by what they do; that tte retributions of this world lneessarily, in courts, in families, in holding ofices, and in the measure
of prosperity wvvhich  men ejoy, or the reverses which they experience, are not determined by what men ibelieve or do not believse,
but by what they do, or fail to do; and that there is a propriety
that the samen rule,should be lobserved in the retributions of the
future state.
(3.) That faith,   as a   ental operation, is beyond OIr control;
that we are so made that we cannot help believing where proper
evidence is presented, and cannot make ourselves believe where
there is not; and that as men have no control over their faith,
they are not responsible for their belief.




VALUE AND  IMPORTANCE OF FAITH.                     351
(4.) That it is no matter what a man believes, provided his
conduct is right; and that one mode of faith can no more a.fect the
interests of society, or a man's own soul, than another; and that
the grand question is, not what are a man's opinions on speculative
matters, but what is his character.
(5.) It would probahly be added, that faith stands in quite
strong contrast with reason, and that to represent religion as
depending on faith is to undervalue the rational nature that God.
has given us, and that it is in f'ct lmaking credulity a virtue, and
diminishing the respect which our Maker has taught us to show to
our own rational powers.
I could perhaps make these o)jections appear stronger by expanding themr, but I have not designedly diminished their force, or
concealed the point of difficulty.  It will be seen at once that they
are capable of being made to be weighty objections, and that the
public defenders of the Christian system are not at liberty to pass
them by unnoticed, or to treat them as though they were worthy
of no regard. As interested themselves in the questions of religion,
as well as in relation to their office as guides of others, they are
bound to meet them  in a franki manner, and to inquire whether
they can be removed.
IT. We are conducted, then, to the second and main point to
be considered —the reason why such pProminence has been assigned
tofaith in the system qf revealed religion.
I begin this part of my subject by observing, that a word,
though susceptible of an easy and unobjectionable explanation,
may by long usage, or by certain associations, have had certain
ideas attached to it which may greatly injure its use ii an argument. Instead of suggesting only what is essential in the meaning
of the word, it may suggest, either with that or without it, certain
other thlings which may greatly impair its force, and leave a very
erroneous impression.  Thus the word Jatith, when suggested,
may have in many minds a near alliance to credulity; in the
same minds, or in other minds, it may be understood as something in contradistinction to reason, as implying that faith is not
based on reason, or would not be sustained by it; and when the
word is used, t1here may be conveyed with it tlhe idea that it is
something wholly separate from  reason, and that the thinig in
relation to which faith is exercised is something which could not
be supported by reason. This tas evidently tlhe aspect in which
the word was suggested to Mrr. Hume's mind when he said, " Oar
most holy religion is founded onfithat, NOT on'reason"
There will be some advantuage, therefore, and no inljustice in
any way, in conducting the argument, in takino a word which




352               THE WAY OF SALVATION.
involves all that is essential infaith, without the danger to which
I have referred.  I propose, therefore, to make use of the word
confidence; a word which expresses all that is essential in the
idea of faith, and which is not liable to the disadvantage already
referred to.  Confidence, it is clear, may be founded on good and
substantial reasons.  Indeed, it cannot exist without something
that is regarded as a valid reason in any particular case, for we
always connect with that word the idea that there is good reason,
in the instance to which it is applied, why confidence should
exist.  If a man has confidence in the ability of a mercantile
house to meet its engagements, it is supposed to he because he
has good reason for it.  The same thing may be true indeed of
faith, and should be in all true faith, but the word does not
always suggest that idea.  I propose, therefore, inillustrating the
value and importance of faith, in a system  of religion, to male
use, in general, of the word confidence instead of the more usual word.
The question then is, What is the value of confidence in a
community; or, in other words, Is there any such value to be
attached to it as to justify the primacy and importance attributed
to faitli in the Bible?  What important part does it perform in
the world?  What evils result from the want of it?
Faith, or confidence, if a virtue at all, or if of value at all, is a
social or relative virtue.  It is true that we sometimes speak of
having confdence in ourselves; but it is under the influence of
that common fiction of the mind by which we regard ourselves
as two persons, or as having antagonist feelings and principles;
as when we speak of the reason and the passions as in conflict,
and struggling for the mastery, and identify ourselves with one
of them  as at war with the other, Rom. vii. 17-23.  But when
we speak of having confidence, with strict propriety, it is of
confidence in another-another person, a government, a bank, a
debtor.  Faith, then, might be distinguished, if it were necessary
to go further into an examination of this point, from many virtues
which terminate on ourselves, and which pertain only to ourselves.
The point of examination now is, its value in the relations which
men sustain, or in social interests. All that I can say will be
merely to vary a very simple idea, or to apply one thought to
different things; but it will, I trust, conduct us to the conclusion
which it is desirable to reach in order to confirm  the statement
in my text."
* Some of the remarks and illustrations on the subject of faith in this
discourse have been made substantially in a different connexion in a previous
sermon in this volume, but they seem so appropriate to the design of this
discourse that it was not found convenient to omit them.




VALUE ANND  IMPORTANCE OF FAITH.                  353
(1.) I begin with a reference to the value of confidence in a
family.  It can hardly be necessary to do much more here than
simply to refer to the subject.  All of us feel that the welfare of
a family depends wholly on this; and that if it were destroyed,
happiness would at once flee from  our dwellings.  All the good
order, the prosperity, the happiness of a family depends on the
confidence that a husband and wife repose in each other; in the
confidence that children have in their parents; and perhaps in a
not less degree in the confidence which parents have in their
children.  Every hour that we live in these relations we are
dependent on that confidence for our peace of mind; and in relation to our domestic comfort and order there is nothing that could
he substituted for it.  Every hour of happiness that any of us
have had in the marriage relation'has been identified with that,
and at any moment our happiness would have been destroyed
effectuallv if that had not existed.  There could have been no substitute for it. No prosperity abroad; no success in business; no
honours lavished upon us in the world; no sudden gains; no
pleasures derived from literature, science, or the arts, could have
been a substitute for this, or could have mitigated the pangs
which would have existed in the bosom  at the very idea of
"infidelity," or a want of confidence, in this relation.  The
happiness and success of a parent depend wholly, too, on the
confidence which his children repose in him. No parental government can answer the purpose where this is not secured; there can
be no domestic peace where this is not found. It is not on force
that we rely in governing our families and making them happy;
it is in the confidence which our children shall have in our wisdom,
our integrity, our ability to give them the advice which they
need, our qualifications to govern in the little community of whichi
we are the head.  If that cannot be secured in a family, there is
nothing else that can be permanently substituted in its place.
And, as already remarked, perhaps to a not less degree is domestic
happiness dependent on the measure of just confidence that we
repose in our children.  If we have no confidence that they will
act rightly; if we cannot trust them out of our sight; if we feel
when they go out of the door that they will visit some place of
infamy, regardless of our commands, whatever else they may
have, whether learning or talent, it is plain that peace will be a
stranger to our bosoms, and that slumber will not visit Our
eyelids.
Now if these things be so, it will be seen that the most effective
mischief which any man could do, or could desire to do, in a
family, would be simply to destroy this mutual confidence, If I




35'4              THE WAY OF SALVATION.
had the power, and wished to strike the most deadly blow at the
heart of a family, I should do nothing more.  I should go and take
away all the confidence of a husband in his wife, and of a wife in
her husband, and fill their minds with distrust and jealousy-and
by doing this I should take away all peace from their bosoms, and
sleep from their pillows. Or I should go and destroy all confidence
in the bosom of sons or daughters towards a father; and teach
them to feel that he was not worthy of their respect or love-and
I should thus introduce insubordination and disobedience into the
most peaceful dwelling on earth.  Or I should go and destroy all
the confidence of a father in his sons or his daughters  and I should
make him restless and sad whenever they were out of his sight;
and I should fill llis bosom with the keenest anguish at the feeling
that all his hopes had been blasted, and I should transform all his
cherished and happy prospects in regard to their future character
into dark and gloomy forebodings, and I should so torment him by
a simple want of confidence as to make him wish that neither he
nor they had been born, and long for the hour when he should
find rest from his mental tortures in the grave.
(2.) Let us apply this remark to the relations sustained in a
commercial community.  Let a man reflect but for one moment
how much the prosperity of such a community depends on mutual
confidence, and he cannot be insensible to its value and importance.
Let confidence in a commercial house be shaken, and how many
interests are affected by it at once! Let confidence in a bank be
shaken, and there may not be an interest in that community which
is not affected by it.  As when the storm shakes an old oak that
has stood for generations, the admiration of men, the far-distant
fibres of the roots, fine and tender, that run under the ground
hidden from human view, shall be torn and rent, so it is when
confidence in such an institution is shaken.  There are a thousand
interests which you would not have supposed would have been
affected, that feel the shock.  For such a shock affects not merely
the commercial world-the men whose business may be dependent
on its stability.  In that bank shall have been confided the
little property of hundreds or thousands of widows and orphans.
He who had had the ability to lay up what it was hoped would
make old age or the day of sickness comfortable, had entrusted it
there. The professional man that had saved from his hard earnings
what he felt he should need when the infirmities of age should
forbid his longer toil, had felt that he had made competent provision
for declining years, and had deposited it there.  The father who
had a beloved daughter, for whom he would make some provision
as an expression of his love, and who had sought to calm his own




VALUE AND  IMPORTANCE OF FAITH.                    355
mind when he reflected that he might be taken away, and be no
longer able to be her protector and friend, had deposited what he
meant for her there. When confidence fails in such an institution;
when it reels, ready to fall; when it comes down a mass of ruins,
and no one can tell where the millions entrusted to it are scattered,
there are thousands and tens of thousands of hearts that are made
to bleed, and a blow is struck that vibrates through a community,
reaching remote points that you would not have supposed could be
affected by such a shock.
To commercial men, it is needful only to advert to this point.
Well do they lknow  that the entire prosperity of the community
depends on confidence, and that when that is gone, all is gone.
To see this in its full force, all that would be necessary would be
to recall to recollection past events in our own community, and
in our own land.  From the minds of those who then lived, and
especially from  the minds of the multitudes who were so deeply
interested, those scenes will never pass away while life lasts.  Confidence in banks, and commercial houses, and in the solvency of
distant debtors, seemed almost universally to have failed, and the
whole land was agitated and convulsed, not because we were poor,
or because our soil had ceased to be fruitful, or our air was pestilential, or our resources had departed, or because "grim-visaged
war" f-rowned upon us, but because confidence wvas gone.
The same remark might he made here which was made respecting the peace of a family. If I had the power, and were disposed to
inflict the deepest evil on a community, I should do no more than
destroy this universal confidence. I sliould go into the commercial
world and breathe suspicions, and start rumours, and insinuate
doubts, and circulate reports, and unsettle the confidence of one
commercial house in another, and of one bank in another, and of one
part of the country in another, until I produced universal distrust;
and just so far as I succeeded, I should spread universal ruin. No
foreig-l war, no spreadingo pestilence, no change of the seasons,
would produce deeper distress in this land; for what commercial
operation is there that could be continued for a day, if confidence
were gone?
(3.) Let us apply this remark to the intercourse of nations, and
see it we can find an illustration of the value of confidence or faith
there.  raations never hlave been entirely independent of each
other; as society advances, they are becoming  less and less
so.  They may be independent in their government and laws,
and so far as any direct foreignl interference is concerned; hut
tlev are so in no other sense.  They are adjacent to each other,
and the prosperity of one airects the prosperity of another; or




356              TH'E WAY OF SALVATION.
they are distant, and are dependent for a thousand things which
can be produced in the one, but which cannot be produced in the
other.  Formerly, when men had fewer artificial wants, and when
the facilities of commerce were less, they were far more independent; for Assyria, and Persia, and ancient Germany, and Gaul,
were far less dependent on other nations, and would feel the effects
of any change in other nations, far less than Great Britain and the
United States, or even France and Russia, would now.  The
tendency of things is to increase the dependence, and to make the
nations of the earth one great brotherhood.
There have been two ways of endeavouring to secure a safe and
prosperous intercourse among nations:-by the force of arms, and
by treaties of commerce and of peace; by the dread of the sword,
and by mutual faith.  The ancients relied mainly on the former;
and seemed to regard a treaty as secure only so far as there was
dread of the armed legions, or the war-galley. Rome had little
confidence in the fidelity of the nations that were reduced to her
control as provinces, except as they understood that if they were
not faithful, the Roman legions would soon thunder at the gates
of their cities.
The course of events, the tendency of society, is leading the
world to repose on another kind of security in the intercourse
between nations.  We indeed endeavour to blend the two things
still-to intimidate, and to secure confidence, and there is a sort
of reliance on both; but there is a growing sense that the former
is unnecessary, and that our main dependence is on the latter.
What merchant is there that sends a ship from  one of our
ports to Calcutta, or Canton, who ever thinks of the armed
vessels that float in distant seas as a reason why he may commit
his property safely to the chances of commerce?  What is it that
holds the commercial world together, and renders commerce safe?
Is it our navy, our army, or is it the faith of treaties? You may
say, perhaps, that those treaties would not be regarded if an armed
power were not at hand to enforce them; but that remains to be
seen.  The truth is, that the nations are depending more and more
on what is for their mutual interests, and on the faith of treaties;
and are looking with more and more jealousy on any armed
interference, and more aversion on any effort to secure commercial advantages by superior force of arms.  The world is to
be held together by confidence, and not by the terror of arms;
and the sacredness of plighted faith is to take the place of the
sword.
Let any intelligent man reflect how much at this moment the
commerce of our own country and of the rest of the world is secured




VALUE AND  IMPORTANCE OF FAITH.                  357
by treaty, by plighted faith, and he will see the force and the
value of the observations which I am making. There is almost
no nation-none with whom  a treaty would le of value-with
whom such a treaty of commerce does not exist.  There is almost
no land, no port even, where we have not a consul-not an armed
man at the head of embattled legions; not a man with the emblazonments of war —the epaulette and the sword,-but a simple,
plain, unostentatious citizen-usually of plain dress and plain
manners-the fit representative of a peaceful treaty, and the
exponent of the faith of nations.  What is right to be done in the
land where he is, it is presumed will be done; if wrong has been
committed toward any of the citizens of his own land, he presumes
there will be a disposition to redress it; and though he may
feel indeed, and he assured, that the entire power of his country
would be ready to enforce what is right if it is denied, yet how
rare a thing it is that there is any allusion to such power in
regulating commercial intercourse.
Suppose, now, all this were to come to an end. Suppose no
further reliance could be placed on treaties and international
compacts. Is there any form of mischief that could be done in this
world so great as to disturb this cofidence between nations, this
faith in compacts? If it were done, if it were felt that there were
no reliance to be placed on any treaty hereafter, even with all the
armed force that you could send, is there a vessel that would leave
this port, or any other part of our land, to bring back the productions of distant climes? Could the commerce of the world survive
such a destruction of confidence?
(4.) We may apply the remark respecting the value of confidence, or faith, to the administration of a government..  We have
seen its value in a family, in the commercial world, in the intercourse of nations.  It is an obvious remark that it is of no less
value in the administration of a government, in the enacting and
execution of the laws, in a judicial transaction.  Peace and
harmony, and in connexion with them  all forms of prosperity,
depend wholly on the degree of confidence that shall be reposed
in the administration of a government, or the decision of a court.
You may be certain, indeed, that a sheriff or a marshal has power
to summon an armed force to his aid, but you are not induced by
that to pay your taxes or your custom-house duties, or to submit
to the judgment of a court. You calmly acquiesce, because you
have confidence in the general working-the ecuitableness of the
institutions of your country.  Such confidence may be reposed in
a judicial opinion that a nation shall acquiesce in it, though conflicting claims of the highest order may be involved; the laws of




358              THE WAY  OF SALVATION.
states may have come in collision; and property to an amount
which no one can estimate may be at stake.
Our whole land is dependent every day on  confidence in
the government; on confidence in the judges; on confidence in
the general virtue of the people; on confidence in the excellence
of our institutions.  There is not a wheel of the government that
could move for a moment if it were not for this.  1o one of us
would entrust a letter to the mail, no one of us would carry a
cause before any constituted tribunal, or even submit it to an
arbitration.
(5.) We are prepared now  to apply the remark to th6 main
thing pertaining to the subject before us-the government of God.
The demand in the Bible is, that man shall repose confidence in
his Maker, for " without faith it is impossible to please him."
The inquiry which we have had in view has been, What is the reason
why faith under his government has such a primacy, and is of
so much value?
Now  it is obvious that the value of eo,:.fidence is as great
in God's government as in any other, and may be as great in
the universal family, embracing all worlds, over whichl he presides,
as in the much smaller families with which we are conversant.
But it should also be added, that to an extent elsewhere propertionably unknown the government of God is one of confidence,
not of force.  With all power in his arm, and with all resources
to bind, and fetter, and restrain, and punish, at his command,
still that which he most relies on in his administration is not
force, but love and confidence.  It is in every way probable that
that is the only thing on which reliance is now placed in heaven
in controlling the pure and happy minds there, and that vast as
they know the power of God to be, they are not restrained by
that, but by the all-controlling influence of affection.  They have
co'idence in God-in his wisdom and his goodness —in the equity
of his laws and in the principles of his administration; and this
is all that is needed to preserve order, and harmony, and peaceful
obedience in heaven.  For
Love is the golden chain that binds
The happy souls above.
The thing, too, on which reliance was placed in Paradise to secure
obedience was cotfidezee.  There was no force employed there.
There were no walls built around it which man could not overleap.
There were no cherubim  with flaming swords to prevent the
egress of man, as there wee, after his apostacy, to forbid his
return.  As long as coicleence in God remained, man was happy.




VALLUE AMN) IMPORTANCE OF  I'AIThL.                 359
WLen that failed, he was ruined; and the want of confidence in
God was there, as it ever has been since, the source of all the
woes that man has e.: pcrienced.  With strict philosophical accuracy, all the woes which have come upon the race have arisen
from a want of confidence in God as the just moral Governor of
the world.  Man has no confidenct ii. iis law, in his goodness,
in his truth, in his promises, in his threatenings. m  his qualifications for empire.  He has no such confidence in him  as to submit
to his teachings; to bow reverently to his will where his dealings
are mysterious; to resign himself to him in his trials; to embrace
his promises, when he offers heaven to him; to feel alarm, and to
turn from  his sins, when he threatens the punishment of hell.
Even now, with all our external sources of trouble and woe, with
all the sorrows and ills of poverty, want, sickness, bereavement,
and dreaded death, this would be a happy world if man had confidence in God; for the moment you can infuse into the bosom of
a suffiere, no matter whether in bereavement, on a sick bed, or
in any other form  of woe, confidence in God, that moment you
have soothed the anguish of the soul, and diffused through the
bosom peace and joy.
I will ask your attention, in view of the reasoning pursued in
this discourse, only to one thought of a practical nature suggested
by the subject.  It is, that infidelity, or unbelief, as a speculative
or practical matter, is not a harmless thing.  It is often supposed
to be so.  It is regarded as a mere matter of speculation; a thing
in reference to which the utmost freedom  of the mind may be
innocently indulged; a thing in which you do others no wrong,
for you deprive them of no property by it, and suppose that you
do nothing to sap the foundation of their happiness.
But if the views suggested in this discourse are correct, nothing
can be more unfounded than this opinion. Is that a harmless
fsystem  which, if it came into your family, would unsettle all
the confidence which you have in your wife, and all the confidence
which your children have in you as a father?  Is he an innocent
man who would unsettle all confidence in a commercial house, in
n, banik, in a lawyer, in a physician, in a bench of judges? Would
that be an innocent system which would breathe suspicion in the
community on the character of every minister of the gospel, and
every professor in a college, and every teacher in a school?  And
it you may suppose that a man of capital should establish a system
of agencies all over the land, and have them  wholly under his
control, and that the design should be by a well-arranged scheme
of operations to destroy all confidence, say in every merchant, and
every monied institution, would you say that that was a harmuless
24




360             THE WAY OF SALVATION.
system of operations? And suppose that a man should come into
your family and unsettle all the confidence of your children in
God, and in the principles of virtue and sound morals, and in
that holy volume which you regard as the foundation of all
just views of morals —shall we regard him as a harmless man,
and his opinions as a matter of no consequence?  Or suppose,
by an extended system  of agencies, by the facilities of the
press, by his power of scattering pamphlets and books all over
the land, he should pursue an extended scheme of operations to
destroy all the confidence of man in God as a moral Governor,
and in his law, and in the principles of virtue, and in the
foundations of morality; that should tend to destroy the confidence which the poor, the afflicted, the oppressed, and the
dying repose in God their Saviour; which should leave them to
suffer without support, and to feel that they are " in a forsaken
and fatherless world," and to die without hope,-will you say
that such a system is harmless?  Why more so than when your
malignant agent establishes a system with a view of unsettling
the confidence in every merchant and monied institution throughout the land? Is confidence in the foundations of morals, and
confidence in God as the righteous moral Governor of the world,
of less importance than in a man or in a bank? The perpetrator
of the deepest mischief in this world is the man who lives to
unsettle cownidence.  Let my enemy come, if he wishes, and take
the little property which my hands have earned; let him come
and strike me on one cheek and on the other; let him take my
coat and my cloak also; let him turn me out from my happy and
peaceful home, a penniless wanderer on the face of the earth;but let him not come and destroy the confidence which my wife
reposes in me, and I in her; let him not come and unsettle the
foundations of moral principle in which I have endeavoured to
ground my children; let him not seek to alienate our confidence
in each other and in our God.  Poor, and penniless, and cold,
and naked, and with no certain dwelling-place, I should wander
with my family with one source of pure happiness, undisturbed,
if they trusted in me, and I in them, and all in God; but in the
most splendid palace that imperial wealth could build and adorn,
I could never be happy if confidence in them, and in my Maker
and my Saviour, were blasted and destroyed.
Nor is unbelief, as a practical personal matter, more harmless.
Sinner, it is not an innocent thing that you have no confidence,
no faith in the God that made you. You wrong him; you wrong
your own soul. There is no being that is so worthy of your confidence as he; none that has so high a claim. And how can you




VALUE AND IMPORTANCE OF FAITH.                   361
please him" if you have no confidence in him?  Can a childa son-a daughter-though learned, and accomplished, or graced
with polished manners, though admired for beauty, or praised
for talent, or distinguished for eloquence,- can such a child
~ please" his father, can he be worthy of his love, if he has no
just confidence in him-if he treats him  with cold neglect-if
he never relies on his promises, or respects his principles?
Sinier! the source, the root, the germ  of all the evil in your
soul, is the want of confidence in God.  The evil will be arrested,
the ruin which is coming on you will he stayed, the moment you
are brought back, throughl the great Mediator, to exercise ibith
in  him  who made you-and not till then.  Without that,
dissociated from him, you are destined to a degree of wretclledness and woe, compared with which all the evils produced by
want of confidence in a family, a commercial community, between
nations, or under a human government, are trifles not to be
named!




SERMON XXVIII.
FAITH AS AN ELEMIENTARY PRINCIPLE OF ACTION.
2 COR. v. 7.-" We walk by faith, not by sight."
IN the first discourse on the subject of faith, I illustrated the
inquiry why faith is made an indispensable condition of salvation; in the second, I considered the value and importance of
faith.
Faith enters so much into the Christian system, is regarded
as so essential an element in our conduct as religious beings, and
is designed to accomplish so important effects on our character,
that, in every point of view in which it can be regarded, it demands our careful and prayerful consideration.   It seems to
be supposed that there is some foundation for the importance
attached to it in our very nature, or that man is so made that
it is designed that faith shall be an important element of his
conduct, and shall exert an important influence over him.  If
there were not something in man that laid the foundation for
this, the prominence given to faith in the Bible would seem  to
be unauthorized, and the purpose of making so much out of it
would seem to be an attempt to institute an arbitrary arrangement, and to separate religion from all other principles of action.
I propose, then, in order to explain the prominence and the
value assigned to faith in the Bible, to consider it as an elementary principle of conduct; or to inquire into the influence which
it is adapted to exert on man.  I shall refer to it, not exclusively as a Christian virtue-for the object is to inquire why it
should be incorporated among the Christian virtues at all; but
as a state of mind-a principle of conduct-a law of our being.
Our aim is to ascertain what place it is designed to occupy in
the mind of such a being as man, and placed in the circumstances in which he is; and the bearing of all my remarks will
be to illustrate the power of that principle stated in the text,
We walk by faith, not by sight."
In order to illustrate the subject properly, it will be necessary
to consider two points:-I. What the principle is; and, 1I. Its
influence'as an element of conduct.




FAITH  AS A PRINCIPLE OF ACTION.                363
I. The first inquiry is, WJhat is the principle referred to?  It
is of the highest importance to settle this, because, either by
inadvertence or design, faith is so often confounded with other
things, that its value as an element of action is by no means
appreciated, and on this account religion is charged with that
which, if true, would make it unworthy the serious attention of
mankind.  A very common impression is, that faith is synonymolus with credulity, and that in proportion as we exalt faith as
as principle of action, we undervalue reason. Let us then inquire,
and see whether we can ascertain precisely what the state of
mind is, when we say in any proper sense, that a man "walks
by faith."  Perhaps we can bring out the state of mind which
it is proposed to consider, by placing it in contrast with other
things.
(1.) It is to be distinguished from credulity, and indeed in
many respects is the opposite of credulity.  " Credulity is a
weakness of mind by which a person is disposed to believe, or
yield his assent to a declaration or proposition without sufficient
evidence of the truth of what is said or proposed; a disposition
to believe on slight evidence, or no evidence at all."-Webster.
Credulity relates to the belief of reported or alleged facts; believing them when there is no sufficient testimony or evidence,
and is the opposite of clear and thorough investigation; faith,
as an element of action, refers not so much to what are now
facts, as to what may be; not so much to what has been in the
past, as to what may be or will be in the future.  Credulous
men believe in things which are said to have occurred, or which
are alleged to be occurring at the present, which are of little
importance in themselves, and which are fitted to exert no good
influence on the character; faith has relation, as an element of
conduct, to things to come, and to those things which are deeply
to affect our character and destiny. Children, in an amiable
sense, are credulous-for they act on the principle of our nature,
which teaches us, and prompts us to believe, until we learn to
distrust by painful experience.  Whatever is reported to them,
they believe-for they have not yet learned to distinguish truth
from falsehood, and indeed have hardly learned as yet that there
is any such thing as falsehood.  Men in the infancy of society
are credulous-for they are then much like children; and amidst
the multitudes of things which are before their minds, and the
numerous questions which present themselves, and under the
influence of an imagination easily excited, they have not yet
learned to separate the true from the false, and believe them all
alike: stories of preternatural apparitions, and the influence of




364!             THE WAY OF SALVATION.
the stars, and portents, and omens, and the deeds of demi-gods,
all together.  Hence, all early history is made up of marvelslike the books with which it has been so much the fashion to
entertain children. The dupes of superstition are credulous; for
they connect certain things with religion, and they have settled
it in their minds that all that is connected with religion is true.
Hence they can believe that the blood of St. Januarius is liquified
at certain seasons of the year, and that the " house of the Virgin"
was borne miraculously through the air from Palestine to Italy;
hence they can believe in the virtue of climbing up the steps on
Pilate's staircase, and that the " seamless coat" of Christ was
discovered by St. Helena, after lying for centuries unknown, and
then again, that it was as marvellously preserved in the cathedral at Treves. Infidels, though it may seem to be a paradox,
are credulous men. Lord Herbert, among the best of them, was
among the most credulous of men; and I take the liberty to
affirm that, as a body of men, none have been more distinguished
for credulity than those who have been reckoned among infidels.
Faith, as a principle of action, is wholly distinguished from this.
A man who has faith, and is greatly influenced by it, may be a
credulous man; but his credulity pertains to other things connected with his mental organization, and not to his acting by
faith.
(2.) By many, faith is sometimes contrasted in a strange manner
with a habit of scepticism and of doubt, and with an implied advantage in favour of the latter. It is supposed by them, that, as a
habit of mind, a disposition to doubt, to be cautious, to be slow in
admitting evidence, and to refuse assent in cases where so many
yield so readily, not only stands in strong contrast with the state
of mind required in the gospel, but is a better state of mind. Such
a man, therefore, supposes that while he retains this disposition
of mind to examine everything in an impartial manner, and to
admit the full influence of all reasonable doubts on his mind in
any case, he cannot be a Christian.  Yet, if I understand the
matter, this is not a just view of the case at all. The faith of
the gospel is not opposed to the most candid and thorough investigation of any subject; and the state of mind here referred
to, and placed in contrast with it, is not distinguished from the
faith of the gospel by a habit of bolder and more independent
thinking.  The difference between them is not in regard to the
fieedom of inquiry; it is in regard to the influence of hope and
of desire.  Give to a man who is a sceptic the influence of the
hope which the gospel proposes; create in his heart a desire for
that on which faith rests, and in view of which it acts, and that




FAITH  AS A PRINCIPLE OF ACTION.               365
same man will be no more cautious and independent than he
who lives by faith. It is the absence of this, and not independence of thinking, which distinguishes him; for while he
has no desire to know God, to live for ever, to be holy and pure
in a future world, he is of course sceptical. lHe cares nothing
about the evidence on the subject.  He neither examines it, nor
will he allow it to make any impression on his mind. His mind,
therefore, is not better, in the sense that it is more candid, and
cautious, and independent; but wolrse, in the sense that it is a mind
that does not feel or appreciate the influence of hope, and of
desire for that which is of the highest value and importance.
(3.) Faith, as an element of conduct, I need hardly say, is
distinct from  acting under the mere influence of the senses.
"We walk by faith, not by sight."  Most men act only from a
reference to the senses, or in the light only which the relations
of the senses cast on objects. They say, "Let us eat and drink,
for to-morrow  we die," 1 Cor. xv. 32. "I shall have peace,
though I walk in the imagination of mine heart, to add drunkenness to thirst," Deut. xxix. 19. If they do not live under the
influence of the senses, in the lowest meaning of the term-that
of gross corruption-yet they aim  to give what they would
regard as the due influence to the information derived from the
senses, or the inlets of knowledge from the external world.
They become " matter of fact" men; their thoughts range only
through the circle of the questions which arise about "profit and
loss;" or they make close calculations by measurements of heights
and distances, and abide by them. They give no scope to the
fancy-to hope-to those generous impulses which would carry
them out of the range of mere calculation. Now this is well as
far as it goes; and is the basis of many of the excellent rules of
economy, and a restrainer of extravagance. But it may make
the mind exceedingly narrow, and prevent the development of
some of its noblest powers. Man is made to be something else
besides a mere creature of sight and of hearing; he is capable of
being much more than an ingenious measuring and calculating
machine. Faith, as an element of action, does much more-is
much more expanding and noble. Even the ancient Greeks and
RIomans, though heathens, admitting the influence of this principle, furnished a striking illustration of the power of faith.
They opened their eyes on distant worlds, and supposed there
were many other things than the sight reveals; and though the
gods which they suyposed to have a dwelling-place in the groves,
and by the fountains, were the work of imagination, yet they
acted out the principle of our nature which longs to find other




366  THE WAY OF SALVATION.
things than the sight reveals, and were under far better influences
in many respects, in elevating and expanding the mind, than
they would'have been if confined to the grovellings of sense.
Men who have no principle of faith in their nature, who are
universally sceptical in regard to its revelations, are like the
ancient mariners.  In their frail barks they crept along the
shore; always kept some headland or promontory in view;
anchored in a friendly bay at night; and never put out into the
open sea. Columbus, with different feeling, turned his prow
boldly to the West, and held it steadily in that direction in the
faith of " giving a new world to the kingdoms of Castile and
Leon."  So faith goes beyond the limits of time and of the
senses. It not only believes in the existence of the worlds which
the telescope reveals, but peoples those worlds; not only believes
in the existence of that universe which strikes the outward eye
as so glorious, but in the existence of a more glorious God that
formed them all; not only believes that there is such an atom
in creation as this earth, and such a thing as the "vapour of
human life," but that there is a world to come, and that there is
life everlasting.
(4.) One thing more may be said in order to distinguish faith
as an element of action. It has a very near relation to hope;
and is, in fact, on the authority of an apostle, the embodiment of
hope. " Now faith is the substance of things hoped for," Heb. xi. 1.
It takes hold of things that are not seen, but which may be as
real as though they were; and of things which are not yet facts,
but which may be. A  young man hopes for distinction in
political life. As a reality, it has as yet no existence. But it
may have. It is in his mind's eye as if it were a reality, and he
sets it before him as his hopes and desires would prompt; and
though far distant, he studies, and struggles, as if it might be so.
Demosthenes, when he went into his cave, and tried the strength
of his voice by the raging elements of the deep, doubtless had in
his mind's eye an image of what it would be to be the first
orator of the world.  See what faith entered into such a purpose,
and into such a conception: —faith in his own powers; faith in
the effect of careful culture; faith in believing that formidable
obstacles may be overcome; faith in his countrymen, that they
would do honour to him who deserved it; faith in history, that
it would transmit his name to future times; faith in all coming
generations, that they would receive his name with honour, and
transmit it onward.  So now in higher things: —faith carries
the mind upward and onward; fastens on objects of hope, and
turns them into living forms, and allows them to influence the




FAITH  AS A PRINCIPLE OF ACTION.                367
mind: and the view by faith of those superior realities turns
giants here to dwarfs, and mountains to mole-hills, and crowns to
baubles, and heaps of hoarded gold to particles of glittering dust,
and the palaces of princes to the play-houses of children.  Man
begins to live for nobler objects; and there comes over the soul
the expanding and elevating thought that there is something
worth living for, and that he is indeed immortal.
II. Having thus endeavoured to state what this principle is, I
proceed to consider, in the second place, its influence as an,
element of conduct. With an ultimate view of illustrating its
influence in religion, and of showing you that there is much
worth living for beyond what the senses reveal, and that it is
rational to act in view of that, I will endeavour to illustrate its
value under these specifications: —as prompting to action; as
expanding and elevating the mind; and as indispensable in all
just views of religion.
(1.) We may consider it as an element of our nature leading
to action. We will look at it now in general, without particular
reference to religion.  We have seen that it stands in contrast
with cold calculation; with what is disclosed by the mere
testimony of the senses; with the low and grovelling objects
that appeal to the appetites. A man into whose character there
enters not the element of faith, is one who has no confidence in
the power of truth in meeting and arresting evils; in the
elevation and perfectibility of society; in the practicability of
correcting errors, or of checking and removing individual or
organized wrongs; in himself; in his fellow-men; or in God.
His mind never ventures beyond a very limited range-that
which has come under his own observation, or which is within
the compass of a very rigid calculation.  Let us look at such
a mind, and see what it would accomplish in such a world
as this.
(a) A sturdy farmer, trained to the use of the axe, and the
hoe, and the plough, and with the advantages of an education inl
a common school, and with some reading to expand his mind,
stands on an eminence in the wilds of the West, and looks over
a boundless forest. It waves in the interminable distance, and the
sun has never yet been suffered to penetrate through that thick
foliage to the earth.  There is no city, or town, or even log-cabin
to be seen. Not even the smoke of the Indian wigwam reveals
that any human being is there.  But there, an intelligent eye may
see the evidence of as rich a soil as the sun ever shone upon;
and those valleys may yet be covered with harvests and with
flocks; and houses and mills, villages and towns, may yet spring




368              THtE WAY OF SALVATION.
up there. Winding along, through that forest, may be seen the
course of a river-and the opening where it runs shows that it
is a broad stream-though on its bosom never yet floated anything but the bark-canoe of an Indian.  In all that boundless
expanse, there is neither road, nor bridge, nor fence; neither
church, nor college, nor school-house. Yet that man is possessed of
jfitth; faith in his axe, in his arm, in his skill-in himself, in his
growing boy, in his neighbours that will unite with him; and
he believes that all that forest may be felled, and that it may
become a fertile field, and that colleges and sanctuaries and
cities may smile there; and that on that river the magnificent
steamer may glide laden with rich productions from that teeming
soil.  Many a weary day must indeed be spent, many a hard
blow must be struck, before that result shall be reached; but there
is more than hope that it may be done, to animate and cheer the
woodsman; there is faith that it will be done; and the forest
gives way, and the fields are ploughed and fenced, and houses
and all the improvements of art appear in what was the interminable wilderness, as if by magic. Yet there is no magic about
it.  It is all the result of desire, and hope, and faith,-and
corresponding toil.
(b) A man looks at his country.  He greatly loves it-for it
is the land of his birth; his interests are there; and in every
way he desires its prosperity.  But he sees it oppressed. It
groans under heavy and unjust burdens.  There are evils.  The
unconstitutional claims of the government, the evils of a deficient
representation, may be deeply felt; or foreign troops may be
quartered on the citizens to awe them. On these things the patriot
looks with deep emotion, and with an earnest desire that they may
be removed.  The man in whose soul the reigning element
is doubt, or who is governed solely by the decisions of his
senses, would be prompted to no effort for relief, would venture
nothing for it.  But not thus did men look upon the wrongs of
their country in the times of Hampden; not thus did Patrick
Henry and John Hancock look upon the wrongs which our own
land endured. In those minds and hearts there were no elements
of scepticism.  There dwelt there in the strongest degree the
element of fiith. They were moved, not by the love of gain or
applause; they not merely felt that their country was suffering
wronllg; they not merely hoped and desired that their wrongs
might be removed,-but they had strong faith, unwavering
cofidence, that it might be done. They had faith in the justice
of their cause; in the virtue of their countrymen; in the valour
of men that might be summoned to defend the national rights;




FAITH  AS A PRINCIPLE  OF ACTION.                 369
in the fathers and mothers of the land, that they would give up
their sons to its defence; in the nations of the earth, that they
would approve their course; and in God, that he would be the
Friend of the oppressed and the wronged-and whatever liberty
there is in England or in this land is the result of suchfaith.
(2.) We have considered this principle of our nature as an
element leading to action.  Let us now, for a moment, consider
it as an expandlins   and elevating element of conduct.  We might
here take the very cases which have already been referred to,
and  perhaps they  would furnish  all the  elucidation  which
would be required.  But we may vary the illustrations, and
while we furnish new confirmations of what has been already
said, place the point now before us in a more distinct light.  John
Howard, born to an ample property, and encompassed by all that
was necessary to worldly enjoyment, with leisure for literary
pursuits, or for the pleasures of the table or the field, or for the
refined courtesies of life in England, might have spent his days,
as thousands do, with most limited views, and with a heart most
selfishly contracted. A sceptic as to the world's improvement; a
doubter as to the feasibility of any project to elevate the degraded; a disbeliever in any enterprise that looked to the elevation of the more debased portions of mankind; a man who confined himself to questions of mere calculation,-he might have
lived only to improve his estates, and in one narrow circle his
ideas might have for ever revolved.  But God had endued him
with a heart benevolent by nature; and the finger of Providence
pointed to an object worthy of its exercise.  He was led to look
on the prisons of Europe. But how did he look on them? True,
there was enough to excite all the compassion of his soul, and
such a man would weep over the unpitied wrongs of the prisoner.
But he looked on them  not only to weep. There was another,
and a much higher and more expansive feeling in his bosom
than mere compassion. It was faith. It was a belief that those
woes might be mitigated, that those wrongs might be repaired,
that the condition of the sufferer might be alleviated. What was
this? It was confidence in human nature; in man,-in his sense
of justice and humanity, when roused to it; in princes and lawgivers-  hat they might be disposed to do right; in societythat its workings might come nearer to perfection; above all, in
God, that he would show himself the Friend of the oppressed
and the wronged;-and this faith expanded the heart of Howard
to embrace the world, and made him what he was.  So Clarkson
and Wilberforce looked upon injured Africa-not merely with
the feelings of compassion, but with faith in the English heart;




370               THE WAY OF SALVATION.
in the justice of their countrymen, if their sentiments were fairly
expressed; in the sense of right with which God has endowed
man; and in the Great Governor of the nations, that he would
ultimately crown with success every effort to break the bonds of
oppression.
An American youth, educated at a university, and about to
enter upon the theatre of life, looks out over the world.  He has
a heart filled with love to the Saviour, and is desirous of living
to do good.  His thoughts are turned to the great West.  But
how  many difficulties may be seen there:difficulties, not so
much of poverty, and privation, and toil, and want of the kind
of society to which he has been accustomed-but difficulties in
saving that vast region from the evil influences that are setting
in upon it from all quarters of the world.  Far more formidable
are those moral difficulties than were the forests, and the unbridged rivers, to our woodsman; and yet with an eye of faith
he may look all over that land, and see it in the future, spiritually, as the "garden of the Lord."  He crosses the mountains
with no doubt that there the standard of the Cross is everywhere
to be erected; that those lands are to be cultivated by a Christian people; that churches are to be reared, and that colleges
and schools are to scatter their rich benedictions all over that
immense region.  He has faith that this is all to be a Christian
land; and he enters upon his work with a higher and more expansive aim than his own country in any other department can
furnish.  Long, perhaps, he labours under discouragement, and
amidst many trials.  Worldliness abounds; error reigns; few
give heed to his voice; yet he never doubts that " the wilderness and the solitary place shall be glad, and that the desert
shall bud and blossom as the rose."
With similar feelings, and at the same time of life, another
young man casts his eyes over the heathen world.  How dark
and degraded it seems!  How many millions, and hundreds of
millions of human beings are sunk in idolatry! How sin —most
loathsome, and debasing, and revolting-abounds! What scenes
of misery open on his view; what cries of distress break on his
ear!  How  long and unbroken has been the reign of death!
Who shall elevate the degraded man?  Who shall scatter the
darkness of the world?  It is not in man, he sees, to do it.
There is no recuperative energy in the heathen mind to recover
it from its low debasement. There are no agencies there at work
to bring these evils to an end, and to re-enstamp upon those
degraded intellects the effaced image of a holy God.  More than
in any other department of human action, perhaps, he goes to




FAITH  AS A PRIINCIPLE OF ACTION.                371
his work under the influence of faith-faith in the simple promise of God-and his bosom, amidst all that discourages and
disheartens, is expanded as by faith he sees "afar" the time
when " one song shall employ all nations, and the dwellers in
the vales and on the rocks shall shout to each other, and the
amoultain tops from  distant mountains shall catch the flying
joy;" when " the earth shall be filled with the knowledge of the
Lord, as the waters cover the sea."  In his benevolence and his
faith, he embraces the world; forms, as Paul did, the largest
plans for its welfare; and devotes himself to the high and noble
enterprise of spreading everywhere the religion of truth and
love.  He believes that truth has power; that the race may be
elevated; that oppression, idolatry, and wrong of every kind
may cease; that the gospel is mighty, and will prevail.  H-e has
faith even in man-degraded as he seems to be, and is; that
there is some chord in his soul that may be struck that will
respond to the proffered offer of pardon and of heaven; and much
more, he has faith in God and his promises, that this world shall
not always be thus sunken and wretched, but that it shall be
redeemed and elevated. He may not live to see it in the reality,
but he sees it as a bright and glorious object in the distant
future; and knowing that many a hardship must be endured
before it is realized, that many a youth must give himself to the
work and fall in a heathen land before it is accomplished, he is
willing to be one of those labourers, that the bright millennial
morn may yet dawn upon the world.
(3.) I have endeavoured to illustrate  this principle as an
clement of action, and as elevating and expansive in its nature.
There remains but one other thought, the third, to complete the
illustration of the subject.  It is, that it is an indispensable
element in all religion.  The error of false religions is not in
acting  by faith when they people the invisible world with
divinities; it is, that the objects of their faith are not real, but
are false.  But all religion must be a work of faith.  It goes
beyond the regions of the senses.  It pertains to the future, to
the distant, and to the invisible.  It is designed to bring the
invisible, and the future, to bear upon us as realities.  If this be
not so, there can be no religion.  The only thing that reason
asks in the case is, that those objects be in fact real, and not
the creations of fancy.  But if we have religion, we must believe
that there is an invisible God; that there is a future state, yet
unseen, of course; that there are to be'rewards hereafter; that we
are destined to a higher sphere of being, and that it is rational
to act in view of that higher existence.  How can there be any




3%2               THE WAY  OF SALVATION.
religion of any kind, unless there is faith in these things?  And
all religion, of all sorts, is just a work of faith, and is designed
to influence us by faith.  We see one world, and we believe that
there is another; we see stars and suns, and we believe that
there is a God who made them; we see ourselves to be sinners,
and we believe that we may be recovered from sin; we see the
race sunken  and degraded, and we believe that it may be
redeemed; we see that we are to die, and we believe that we
may live again.  Going beyrond the limits of the world of sense,
we bring before us a world that is invisible, and act as if it
were a reality; and in religion, as in all other things, faith,
embodying the conceptions of hope, is " the substance of things
hoped for, the evidence of things not seen."  The mind is carried
from  the narrow  limits of the world disclosed by the visual
organs to other worlds, and the things unseen  control and
mould the heart.
And now, what practical good shall follow  from  this discussion?  Much mnay every way.  It has brought before us one
of the laws of our nature, on which religion purposes to engraft
itself, and which is destined to work wonders for man.  It is
that to which the world owes its elevation thus far, and all that
has been accomplished for the race.  Every field that we see
smiling in the harvest is the result of the faith of him  who
ploughed and sowed it-faith in the seed, and in the fertile
earth, and the sun, and the rain, and the Providence of God;
every principle of liberty which we eljoy is the result of the
faith of gifted minds-of men who believed that oppression
might be made to cease, and that man might be elevated to a
just conception of his own rights; every college in the land,
every house of refuge, every asylum for the blind and the deaf, as
wvell as every Christian sanctuary, is a demonstration that those
who reared them  believed that much might be done for the
wretched, and that the race miqht/ be elevated and saved.
re are prone to act under the influence of sense.  This arises
almost from the necessity of the laws of our being.  But our
Maker meant that the strong principle of faith should come in
to counteract this tendency, and to reveal our own true worth
and dignity, not as sensual beings, but as rational and immortal
-as capable, unlike other animals, of going beyond the range
of the senses, and of acting in view of the distant, the great, the
~unseen.  Hence, we can act in view of the future-of the future
liberty and glory of our country, as if it passed before us in a
splendid panorama.  We can act in view of a world redeemedas if already the shout were going up from  every land, " The




FAITH  AS A PRINCIPLE OF ACTION.               373
kingdoms of this world have become the kingdoms of our God
and of his Christ."  We can act in view of God-as if we saw
him everywhere, and felt that he heard every word, and knew
every thought;' enduring," as Moses did, " as seeing him who
is invisible."  We can act in view of heaven-as if we already
saw the pearly gates wide unfold themselves, and could look far
into distant worlds.
WThat man needs for his elevation is the acting out of this
principle of faith-acting more by faith, and less by sight.
lie needs a more vivid impression of the presence and the glory
of God; of the reality of heaven; of the power of truth; of the
wonders of the invisible world-the glittering crowns, and the
thrones, and the harps of heaven,-and then indeed the things
of this world would be baubles and trifles. The religion of this
age needs to be expanded that it may become more a religion of
faith; the church needs to be taken away from the dominion of
the senses, and led to exercise a more simple faith in the truth and
the promises of God; and the human mind needs to be elevated
and purified by the contemplation of things that are vast and
everlasting.  Then shall man rise to his true dignity when other
worlds shall have to his view the reality of this; and when in
their overpowering splendour and glory, as apprehended by the
mind, the objects which now seem so vast to us shall dwindle
down to nothing, and when all through his brief journey to the
grave, man " shall walk by faith, and not by sight:" living by
it every day; forming his plans in view  of its revelations;
consecrating himself and his all, by its power, to the service of a
holy Saviour and to the good of the church and the world:-and
then, when his work is done, whether sooner or later, under its
revelation of brighter worlds, cheerfully going down into the
cold river of death-the narrow  stream  which divides the
shadows amidst which he has been moving for a few brief days
from the realities of the world which, amidst those shadows, he
discerned afar, and where he is now for ever to dwell. Thus let
ts live-thus may we die.




SERMON XXIX.
THE IMPORTANCE OF THE INQUIIiY, HOW  SHALL MAN BE
JUST WITH  GOD?
JoBs xxv. 4.-" Hlow can man be justified with God?"
THESE are the words of Bildad-one of the sages who had
entered into controversy with Job in regard to the government
of God. They were uttered in view of the majesty and holiness
of the Most High; and the meaning is, "When the greatness
and glory of God are contemplated, how can man be regarded as
holy before him  "  6 "Dominion and fear," says the Shuhite, "are
with him.  Is there any number of his armies?  How, then, can
man be just'e ed with God? or how can he be clean that is born of
a woman? Behold even to the moon, and it shineth not; yea, the
stars are not pure in his sight. How much less man, that is a
worm?"  The same sentiment had been twice before expressed
by the spealkers in this controversy. It was first uttered by
Elihu in peihaps the most sublime account ever given of a vision
of God to men:-" A thing was secretly brought unto me, and
mine ear received a little thereof. In thoughts from the visions
of the night, when deep sleep falleth on men, fear came upon me.
and trembling, which made all my bones to shake. Then a
spirit passed before my face; the hair of my flesh stood up: it
stood still, but I could not discern the form thereof: an image
was before mine eves, there was silence, and I heard a voice,
saying, Shall mortal man be more just than God? shall a man
be more pure than his Maker? Behold, he put no trust in his
servants; and his angels he charged with folly: how much less
in them  that dwell in houses of clay?" Job iv. 12-19. The
same sentiment was expressed also by Job himself as a doctrine
by no means new to him, and as one which had received his
careful thought, and to which he freely expressed his assent:"I know it is so of a truth:-how  should man be just with
God?" Job ix. 2. The question thus propounded by these eastern
sages, in the earliest debate among men of which we have any
record, may be regarded as an inquiry proposed by nman-by
humnan nature.  It expresses the deep workings of the human




HOW  SHALL MAN BE JUST WITH  GOD?                  375
soul in all ages on one of the most important and difficult of all
subjects.  The question means, How shall man be regarded and
treated as righteous by his Maker?  What methods shall he
take to secure such treatment?  What can he do, if anything,
to commend himself to the favourable regards of a holy God?
What can he do, if anything, to make amends for the past?;What can he do, if anything, to turn away future wrath?  Can
he vindicate himself before the eternal throne for what he has
done?  If not, can he see how it is consistent for God to treat
him  as righteous?  This question meets us everywhere, and
enters into and moulds all the forms of religion on the earth.
Let us contemplate it with the interest which becomes so grave a
question, and one which is so identified with our everlasting
welfare.  The inquiry, as illustrating and expressing the feelings
of human  nature, may be considered with reference to two
points-its importance, and its difficulty.
I. The imiportance of the inquiry.
(1.) Its importance will be seen by this consideration-No one
can be saved unless he is just or r'ighteous in the sight of God. Unless
there is some way by which God can consistently regard and treat us
as just or righteous, it is impossible to believe that we can enter
heaven when we die.  Unless man is personally so holy that he
cannot be charged with guilt; or can justify himself by denying
or disproving that charge of guilt; or can vindicate himself by
showing that his conduct is right; or can appropriate to himself
the merit of another as if it were his own, no one can believeno one does believe-that he can enter heaven. Probably there
is no conviction of the human mind more deep and universal
than this; and every man, whether conscious to himself of acting
on it or not, makes it elementary in his practical belief.  If any
one is disposed to call this proposition in question, or if he is not
conscious of acting on it, he will see that it must be true, by
looking at it for a single moment.  The proposition is, that no
man can be saved unless he is just or righteous in the sight of
God.  Can God save a wicked man as such, and in view of his
wickednessP  Can he hold him up to the universe as one who
ought to be saved?  Can he take the profane man, the scoffer,
the adulterer, and the murderer to heaven, and proclaim himself
as their patron and friend?  Can he connect a life of open
wickedness with the rewards of eternal glory?  Nothing can be
more clear than that if a man is made happy for ever in heaven,
there will be some good reason for it, and that reason cannot be
that he was regarded as an unrighteous person.  There will be
a fitness and propriety in his being saved; there will be some
25




376               THE WAY OF SALYATION.
reason why it will be proper for God to regard and treat him as
righteous. This view, which is perhaps sufficiently obvious,
may be illustrated by a reference to human government.  No
just government could become the patron and friend of the
pirate and the murderer, or bestow its rewards on one who in all
respects deserved to meet the penalty of the laws.  On this
belief, also, every man acts in reference to his own salvation.
Each one has a firm conviction that no man can be saved unless
he is just in the sight of God. A man, when he thinks of being
saved, always thinks either that he has kept the law of God, or
that he has a good excuse for not complying with it, or that he
can make reparation by penances, pilgrimages, sacrifices, or
fastings, or that he can appropriate to himself the merit of
another. He never thinks of finding favour with God as a
transgressor, or on account of his crimes; he never supposes
that his iniquity can be the foundation of his salvation.  God
made the human soul, and he so made it that it never could
believe that he would save a man because he was wicked, or
unless there was some way in which he could be regarded and
treated as righteous.
(2.) The importance of the inquiry is seen from the testimony
of man everywhere.  Man is cpparently greatly indifferent to
religion, and it often seems impossible to arouse his attention
to the great and momentous questions connected with it.  But
taking the race together, he is not so indifferent to the subject
as he appears, and could we know all the secret thoughts and
feelings of each individual, we should find that his indifference
is often in appearance only.  There are workings of the soul
which  are carefully excluded  from  public view.  There are
thoughts which every man has, which he would not wish others
to know of. There are deep, agitating, protracted inquiries resulting in settled conviction, or tossing the soul upon a restless
sea, which men would wish to hide from  their best friends.
There is often a deep interest in a man's mind on the subject of
religion, when his whole soul seems to the world torpid and
inactive, or when he would repel your inquiries, or when he
would seem as " calm as summer's morning."
A very slight acquaintance with the human mind or with the
history of opinions is all that is needful to see the importance
which the inquiry on the subject of justification has assumed in
the view of man.
(a) It was seen in the investigations of ancient philosophers
and sages. "How shall man be just with God," was the question which pressed itself on the minds and hearts of the speakers




HOW  SHrALL MaAN  BE JUST wrITH  GO)?               377
in the book of Job, and was a question which was echoed and
re-echoed in the whole heathen philosophic world.  Many who
are profound and patient inquirers on other subjects, often regard
investigations on the subject of religion as unworthy their attention.  They think them  appropriate inquiries for contending
theologians; for disputatious and subtle schoolmen; for the feeble
in intellect, or for the dying; but they regard them as having only
slight claims on a philosophic mind.  Yet were they to go and
take lessons of the masters of science and of profound thought,
they would think differently. Will such men tell us what points
of inquiry have most occupied the attention of the intellects of
other times?  Will they refer to the volumes which contain the
results of the investigations of past ages? Will they let Socrates
once more speak, and Plato give utterance to his views, and
Cicero and Seneca declare what most engrossed their attention?
One thing they will find in all the past-one grand absorbing
question they will meet with everywhere-one inquiry to which
all physical science was made subservient.  It was the subject
of religion; the question of man's acceptance with God; the
grounds of his hope of future blessedness.  The real inquiry
among thinking men of all ages and lands has been, " How shall
man be just with God?"
(b) The same earnestness of inquiry we find still in the heatnen
world.  From the recorded views and religion of the heathen,
we may learn much about man when he utters his sentiments
without disguise; and what we find universally among them we
may regard as the language of human nature.  Now there is no
one thing expressed with more uniformity or more earnestness
all over the pagan world than this question, " How may we be
just with God P" It was the foundation of all sacrifices, penances,
pilgrimages, self-inflicted mortifications.  All these things were
intended so to make expiation for sin, or so to appease the anger
of the gods, that they who thus performed the rites of religion
might be regarded and treated as righteous.  Take this inquiry
away, and thleir sacrifices and peniances would be unmeaning. Take
this away, and the earnestness of their religion would soon cease,
and degenerating into an empty form, would of itself soon expire.
(c) There is another method by which we may learn the views
of the human soul about the importance of this inquiry.  It
is by contemplating the soul when  under conviction of sin,
and reflecting on its prospects about the future world.  Then
there is no inquiry so momentous in the view of the mind as
this —-" How shall a man be just with God?"  There are many
more persons in this state than is commonly imagined.  There




378              THE WAY OF SALVATION.
is probably no one who reaches the years of mature reflection,
before whose mind this inquiry has not at some period assumed
an engrossing importance. With almost no danger of error, you
may assume of every man whom you meet, that his mind either
has been, or is now, deeply interested on the subject of his salvation, and that in his life there are periods when no inquiry
appears so momentous as this.  In his moments of solitary
musing, or in a time of bereavement, or under the preaching of
the gospel, or when remembered truth seems to come with newarmed power to his soul, or when the recollection of guilt seems
recalled to him  by some invisible agency, or when lying on a
bed of languishing, this great inquiry has come before him, How
may he be justified before his Maker?  How may the guilt of
his sins be washed  away?  How  may he be regarded and
treated as a righteous man?  To those who have been in this
state (and who has not?) it is needless to say that then no inquiry
seems more momentous than this. In times of revival of religion,
the student in a college loses his relish for his ordinary studies,
and almost the capacity to pursue them, absorbed in the mole
important study respecting salvation; the merchant loses his
relish for his gains, engrossed in the greater inquiry how he may
obtain everlasting life; the farmer, the mechanic, and the mariner
feel that they can hardly pursue their wonted employme.ts, for
a more mlomentous subject has engrossed the soul. The eye may
be on a passage in Horace or Livy, but the thoughts shall be
elsewhere; and the hands may be employed in labour, but it
shall be performed with a heavy heart, and the toil pursued
with scarcely any consciousness of what is done.  The calm,
fixed, steady, contemplative eye of the student, and the readiness
of the man of business to leave his counting-room  and place
himself under religious instruction, show with what intensity
this inquiry has seized on the soul.  The busy, the studious, and
the gay often become absorbed in the great inquiry, and then
no honour of scholarship, no amplitude of gain, no brilliancy of
pleasure or amusement, seems comparable in value to the solution
of the question, " How shall man be just with God?"  We need
not pause here to consider whether this is a just estimate which
the soul thus puts on the magnitude of this inquiry.  We are
concerned only in getting at the language of man himself whle
in his sober moments. It will at least be conceded, that in those
moments of profound absorbing thought,-those*. moments when
men of all classes are willing to turn aside from  their usual
pursuits; those times when the great inquiry can make tile
pleasures of the ball-room and the scenes of splendid amusement




Hrow  SHALL MAN  BE JUST WITH  GOD?                379
tasteless, and can loosen the hold of the votaries of gold on their
gains, and cause the ardent student to turn aside from his books,
-then it is that the human mind is as likely as ever to judge
correctly of the importance of what has come before it.  Yet
there is but one sentiment then-that this question absorbs and
annihilates all others.
(3.) There is another consideration which shows the importance of this inquiry: it is, that the views that are entertained of
justfitin    ification modify and shape our views concerning all the other
doctrines of religion.  It is the central doctrine in the whole
system, and spreads its influence over every other opinion which
man holds on the subject of salvation.  The opinions entertained
on this subject distinguish respectively the Protestant and the
Papal communities; divide Protestants themselves into two great
parties, evangelical and non-evangelical; separate heathens from
Christians; give form to all the systems of infidelity and Deism,
and constitute the peculiarity of every man's individual faith.
When it is known definitely what a man thinks on this one
point, it may be known whether he is a Papist, or a Protestant;
a Christian, or an infidel; a heathen, or a friend of the Saviour;
a formalist, or a devoted servant of God.  Luther did not say
too much when he said of this doctrine of justification, that it
was the article on which depended the permanency or ruin of
the church; and with a sagacity equal to that of Tallyrand,
*when from a very slight matter he predicted that the throne of
France would ibe overturned, Luther saw that the doctrine of
justification would meet every corruption of the Papacy, and
eventually overturn the system.
The fabric of the Papacy is an ingenious attempt, originated
and arranged under the auspices of a hitgher than human intellect,
though fallen, to delude man with the belief that there is some
other way by which he may be justified with God than by faith
in the Saviour.  The whole system of heathenism is an attempt
to ansiver the question how man may be justified with God.
The systems of infidels, and of men who are depending on their
own morality, or relying on penances and pilgrimages, are
another answer which is given to the question. If the observations now made are correct, it will be conceded that this doctrine
has an importance which cannot be over-estimated.  If it be so,
that no man can be saved who is not justified in the sight of
God,-that the race everywhere, in the anxious inquiry of sages,
in the systems and sacrifices of the heathen, and in the deep
workings of the soul rendering every other pursuit tasteless and
valueless, has shown a sense of its importance,-and that it




380              THE WAY OF SALVATION.
spreads its influence over every form of belief,-the importance
of the inquiry will be admitted.
II. The second point proposed to be noticed is, the difficulty
of the inquiry.  By the speaker in our text it was evidently felt
that it was not easy to furnish an answer to the question proposed.  Bildad, Eliphaz, and Job were agreed in one point:
it was, that man could not be pronounced free fiom  sin before
a holy God.  The evidence of his depravity was too manifest to
admit of this.  In the sight of God, too, they held that the very
heavens were not pure, and that the angels were chargeable
with folly, Job iv. 17; xv. 15.  So bright was his holiness that
the moon was shorn of its beams, and the stars were not pure,
eh. xxv. 5. How, then, could man be pure?  How could he be
just with God?
But what is the difficulty?  Why has the human mind been
so much perplexed in relation to it?  Why may not God admit
man to heaven, and regard and treat him as if he were righteous?
These questions can be answered in a single remark, and the
whole difficulty may then be seen at a glance.  It is, that nman
is in fct nlot righteous.  The difficulty is, to see lhow  God can
regard and treat him as if he were.  It is easy to see how, if he
were righteous, God could treat him  so; or how he could treat
him  as a sinner-that is, according to his real character.  But
how shall he treat him differently from what he deserves, or as
if he had a character which it is known he has not?  Whatever
theories may be embraced by men, or whatever opinions may be
entertained on the subject of religion, it is true as a matter of
fact that these perplexities have been felt by   en, —that they
have given rise to grave and agitating questions,-and that man
has not felt that he could give a solution that was wholly satisfactory.  There is no inquiry which has taken hold on man
everywhere, under all forms of government and opinion, and in
every climate, and amidst every degree of progress, which has
not had some real foundation in the nature of things.  The race
in its soberest moments does not busy itself with trifles, and
especially will not allow itself to be troubled and tortured by
inquiries that are of no importance.  The difficulty which has
been felt on this subject, therefore, is not imaginary; but from
the fact that the inquiry has been so universal, and so beyond
the human powers satisfactorily to explain, it is clear that God
meant it should be regarded by man as a point to be solved only
by Divine revelation.  The real difficulties in the case, and the
state of the human mind in regard to them, may be illustrated
by the following observatiolns:



HTOW  SHALL MAN BE JUST WITH  GOD?    381
(1.) There was the impossibility of man's vindicating himself
from the charges of guilt brought against him. If he could do
this, all would be clear, for God will not condemn the innocent.
But it could not be done.  These charges were brought in such
a way, and enforced in such a manner, that man could not so
meet them as to escape the conviction of their truth.  They are
brought where there is a revelation by God himself in his word;
and where there is not, as well as where there is, by conscience.
Man is told, in the word of God, that he is a sinner; his recollection
of what he has done assures him that it is so; the dealings of
God with him convince himn that there must be some cause of
alienation between himself and his Maker; and every sick bed,
and every grave, and every apprehension of future wrath, confirms the conviction. If man were to undertake to convince
himself that he is not held to be guilty, the argument could not
be derived fiom  the dealings of God with him in this world.
It is not easy for a man to satisfy himself that he is not a sinner,
when the earth is strewed with the dying and the dead; when
his best friends are cut down all around him; when he himself
is to die, and when he is so made that he cannot but tremble at
the apprehension of the judgment.  If any one wished to construct an argument to prove that he is not a sinful man, and
that man can be just with God, he would need to be removed to
some world where he would not see so many things that seem
to be mementoes of human depravity, and so many evidences
that his Creator regards him and his fellow-men as guilty. Men
have everywhere felt this dificulty. There is no one sentiment
in which men more uniformly agree than in this. Every man
regards every other man as a sinner, and puts himself on his
defence against him, for his locks, and bolts, and notes, and
bonds, and securities all demonstrate this; and every man knows
that he himself also is a sinner. There is nothing of which he
is better apprized, nothing he believes more firmly than this.
There is not a living man that could bear the revelation of his
thoughts to others for a single day; and that not merely because
others have no right to know what is passing in his mind, but
because he feels that those thoughts are wrong. Confusion, blushes,
shame, and shrinking would diffuse themselves over every assembly, and through every crowded thoroughfare in the streets of a
great city, and in every lonely path where stranger should meet
stranger, if each one knew that another was surveying closely
the thoughts of his heart, and saw what was passing there; and
if every man felt that his bosom were so transparent that all
the workings of his soul could be observed by others, no one




882'T1HE WAY OF SALVATION.
would venture out of his chamber; no one would move along
the pathways where he mighht encounter a fellow-man; the
throng'ed places of business would be deserted, and our great
and crowded cities would become like the cities of the dead.
No man would venture at midnight on the mountain top, or on
the lonely prairie, to stretch out his hands to heaven, and sav, "I
am pure as the stars that shine upon me, or as the God that made
them."  So universal is the consciousness of guilt, and so certain
does every man feel in his sober moments that he cannot vindicate
himself before God. " flo? then SHALL Xrma  be just with God?"
(2.) It must have been early apparent, to men, and any one
can see now, that it would involve a difficulty, if the guilty
were saved, or if they were regarded and treated as righteous.
How could this be done?  Maan does not do it himself in reference to those who are guilty, and how could God?  No father
feels that it would be proper to regard and treat an offending
child as if he were obedient; no friend acts thus towards one
who professes fiiendship; andt no government acts thus towards
its subjects.  All order and happiness in a family would cease
at once, if this were to occur; and government on earth would
be unknown. There is a great principle of eternal justice which
seems engraved in the convictions of the soul, that every one
ought to be treated according to character, and that there ought
to be a difference in the Divine dealings towards the good and
the evil. But what if God treated all alike P  What if he made
no distinction in regard to character? WAhat if he admitted all to
favour, punished no one, and rewarded piety and impiety, friaud
and honesty, vice and virtue, reverence and blasphemy alike,
with the same inimortal crown?  Wrhat if the murder of the
innocent, and the highest deed of benevolence, were equally a
passport to his favour?  AWhat if he net the licentious, and
those of virgin purity of soul, when they camie before him, with
the same smile of,approbation?  Would not the universe feel
that he was regardless of character?  Would it be possible to
correct the impression?
But it will be said, perhaps, might he not pardon the guilty,
and the fact of pardon constitute a ground of distinction which
the universe would understand' True, if it would be proper to
pardon in this state of things.  But are there no difficulties
attending the subject of pardon?  Can it always be granted?
Can it be granted to an unlimited extent?  Does a father feel
that it' is safe and best to adopt it as a universal rule that he
vill forgive all his children as often as they may choose to
offend him, and without any condition?  Any one may easily




1IOW  SHALL MAN BE JUST WITH  GOD?                 383
see the difficulty on this subject.  There are thousands of men
confined in penitentiaries.  Many of them  are desperate men,
regardless of all the laws of heaven and earth. l   ould it be felt
to be safe or proper at once to open their prison doors? P   ~ho
would wish to be in the neighbourhood, when they should be
turned impenitent and unreformed upon the world?  If the community is scarcely safe now with all the precautions and guards
of justice, what would it be if they were all withdrawn?  These
difficulties must occur to any one when he asks the question,
How can the guilty be justified?
(3.) It is a matter of simple fact that men have felt this
difficulty, and the methods which have been resorted to, to
devise some way of justification, show how perplexing the subject has been to the human mind. We may learn something of
the embarrassments which men feel by the devices to which
they resort to overcome them. Look, then, for a moment, at some
of the methods to which men have resorted in order to answer
the question satisfactorily, How can man be just with God?
(a) One class have denied the charge of guilt, and these have
endeavoured to convince themselves that they are righteous, and
that they may safely trust to their own works for salvation.  If
this could be done, all wvould be well.  But the mass of men
have felt that there are insuperable difficulties in the way of
doing this. We shall hereafter inquire whether it is practicable.
(b) Many have endeavoured to excuse themselves for their
conduct, and thus to be justified before God.  They are sensible
that all is not right; but if they can find a satisfactory excuse,
that is, if they can show that they had a right to do what they
have done, or could not help it, they feel that they would not
be condemned.  And they are right in this. To do it they lay
the blame cn Adam, or on ungovernable passions, or on a fallen
nature, or on the power of temptation, or on the government of
God.  They attempt to show that they could do no otherwisO
than that they have done; that is, they have a right to do it in
the circumstances, and of course are not to blamre.  We slhi'1
inquire hereafter whether this position can be made out.
(c) Many have endeavoured to make expiation by blood, aind
have sought to be justified in this way.  Hence the sacrifices ofi
the heathen-the flowing blood and burning bodies of lambs,
and goats, and bullocks, and prisoners of war, and slaves, and of
children offered to appease the anger of the gods. Thousands of
altars smoke in this attempt, and the whole heathen world pants
and struggles under the difficulty of the inquiry, How may a
guilty man be justified with God?




384              THE WAY OF SALVATION.
(d) Many have sought the same thing by pilgrimages and
penances; by maceration and scourging; by unnatural and painful postures of the body; and by wounds which their own hands
have inflicted on themselves. The victim of superstition in India
lies down beneath the car of his idol, or fastens hooks in his
flesh, or holds his arm in one posture till it- is rigid.  Simeon, in
Syria, on an elevated column, spent his years in misery. Antony,
in Egypt, went and lived in a cave; and Benedict originated the
monastic system  in Italy.  Mecca is crowded by pilgrims, to
acquire righteousness by a visit to the tomb of the prophet; and
the shrines enclosing the bones of the saints are encompassed by
throngs in Italy for a similar purpose. The garment of hair frets
and tortures the body, and the sound of the lash is heard in the
cells of the convent, to gain the same end; and the whole system
of penance and self-inflicted torture, all over the world, is just
a commentary on the question, How shall man be justified with
God?
(e) To crown all this, another device has been resorted to.  It
has been held that there were extraordinary merits of saints
who lived in former times; that they performed services beyond
what were required; and that these merits were garnered up in
a sacred treasure, and are placed at the disposal of the head of
the Papal community, to be distributed at his pleasure to those
who are conscious of guilt,-and this is the answer some have
given to the question, How shall man be justified with God?
From  these remarks will be seen what men have thought
of the difficulty of this question.  In these various ways, human
nature speaks out and reveals what is passing in the bosom. They
are the methods to which men have resorted, as the best answer
which they can give to this inquiry.  To see the real difficulty,
however, we should be able to go down into the depths of the
soul; to gauge all the agonies of guilty consciences; to look at
the woes and sorrows which men are willing to endure that they
may be justified; and then to see how one and all of these plans
utterly fail-how they leave the conscience just as defiled as it
was before, the propensities to evil unchecked, the grave as
terrific as ever, and the judgment-bar as full of horrors.  When
we stand and survey these things, we ask with deep concern
whether any one of these is the way by which man can be
justified with God?  If not, is there any other way, or is there
none P
I shall have accomplished my object in this discourse if I
have secured one thing-if I have been enabled to turn your
attention to the subject as a personal matter.  I have sought to




HOW  SHALL MAN BE JUST WITH GOD?               385
show you the importance of the inquiry, and the difficulties
which encompass it. I have wished to awaken the mind to itto excite a spirit of inquiry which may be allowed to occupy the
mind in hours of leisure. I aim to make an impression which
will not pass away like words which vanish in the utterance.
Assuredly, I need not say that this inquiry is one in which every
man has a personal concern, and is one from which none should
turn away. it is clear that unless a man can be justified with
God he cannot be saved, and the question then comes up at once
whether we know of any way, or whether we have embraced
any method by which we can be thus justified. Can any one
of us over-estimate the magnitude of this inquiry?  Can we
attach too great importance to a question which is to throw its
influence for ever onward into that vast eternity on which we
are soon to enter? Am I asking an unreasonable thing of each
one of you, when I ask you to allow the full pressure of this
inquiry to come upon your hearts this day, How can I be justified with God? Is it unreasonable to entreat you to review the
method on which you have been relying, and to ask yourselves
whether that method will answer in the great day? I will propose one other question. There is one Book that professes to
answer this inquiry. It has a simple object.  Its laws, and
poetry, and prophecy, and proverbs, and history,-more pure,
sweet, and sublime, than can be found in any other book,-all
bear on this one subject. It is the scope of the Book-the beginning, the middle, and the end.  It proposes to answer the question which human reason cannot answer; to furnish instruction
where philosophy fails; to reveal a great sacrifice, where all
other oblations are ineffectual; and to give peace to the conscience, when everything else leaves it like the troubled sea.
Am I in error in saying that each one of you has that Book in
your possession?  Am I unreasonable in asking you to open its
holy pages, and to kneel down and say to the Father of lights,
"Teach me, 0 my God, how I may be justified with thee?"




SERSMON XXX.
MAN CANNOT JUSTIFY HIMSELF BY DENYING OR DISPROVING
THE CHARGE OF GUILT.
RoM. iii. 20.-" By the deeds of the law there shall no flesh be justified."
By the " deeds of the law "is denoted conformity to the law, or
obedience to the law. The word " law" here includes law of all
descriptions, moral as well as ceremonial; for the apostle, in the
previous part of the chapter, had referred particularly to the
violation of the moral law.  Having shown that men were
universally guilty of such violation, he draws from this argument
the conclusion stated in my text, that it is impossible now for
any one to be justified by obeying the law of God. The proposition, then, which I derive from the text, and which I propose
to defend, is, that man cannot be justified b)y has own riyhteousness.
To see the truth of this proposition, it is necessary to know what
is meant by being justified, and then to show that it cannot be
secured by a man's personal obedience.
The term justify is a legal term, but it is also in common use,
and is intelligible to all. An illustration or two will make it
plain, and will lay the foundation for the train of thought which
will be pursued in this discourse.  A  man is chalged with
murder.  He may put his defence on one of two grounds.  He
may either deny the fact of having killed; or admitting that, he
may show that he had a right to do it, or is excusable for it.  If
the charge is not made out against him, of course he is just
in the sight of the law, and is acquitted. Or if the fact be made
out or admitted, he may take the ground either that he did it
in self-defence, or that it was done under such a state of mental
derangement as to destroy responsibility-and he is acquitted.
He had no " malice prepense."  He intended no murder; he
committed none; and the law does not hold him guilty of the
charge. A man is charged with trespass.  He takes a similar
ground of defence.  He denies the fact, or maintains that he had
a right to do what he has done.  He sets up a claim to a " right
of way" over a field which his neighbour owns, and having
established that, he is acquitted, or is held to have done no




MAN CANNOT JUSTIFY  HIMSELF.                 387
more than he had a right to do in the case. He is a just man
in the eye of the law, and may pursue his own business, enjoy
the immunities of a good citizen, the honours of an unsullied
name, and protection in his rights unmolested. It may be added
here, that there is no other way by which a man can justify
himself in the sight of the law. He could not do it by admitting
the fact of the trespass, and by paying the fine, or making compensation for the injury done; for though he might be discharged, yet this would be no justification of what was done,
and would avail nothing towards showing that he was right in
doing it.  It does not make a wrong right either to intend
beforehand to pay for the mischief, or to make amends for it
after the deed is done. This remark will be used hereafter in
examining the attempts which men have made to justify themselves.
Now if man attempts to justify himself before his Maker, he
must take one of the grounds referred to.  He must either deny
the charge brought against him; or admitting the facts in the
case, he must show that he had a right to do what he has done.
If he can do either of these, he will be justified, for God does
not condemn the innocent. We will suppose, then, the case of
a man arraigned at the bar of his Maker, as we all soon shall be,
on trial with reference to eternity.  There are two things that
occur to us at once. What is the charge against him     What
is the defence which he sets up? If there is no charge, he is
justified of course. If his defence is valid, he will be acquitted.
It is necessary then, first, to look at the charge which is
brought against man. The charge is, that he has violated the
law of his Maker, or is a transgressor. It is that of apostacy,'or revolt from  God; entire failure to keep his laws; a life
spent in the constant neglect of acknowledged duty, and the
habitual commission of known sins. It may be assumed that
every reader is sufficiently familiar with the Bible to know
the nature of these charges without their being specified in
detail. No one trained in a Christian community can be ignorant of the account of our race which the Bible gives. These
charges of guilt do not make the impression which they ought,
for these reasons: —-because we are so familiar with them;
because others are implicated with us; because we do not
cordially believe them. Many a man reads the account of
human nature in the Bible without supposing there is anything serious in the matter, or much fitted to trouble him.
There is many a one who would pass a sleepless night if he
knew there was a charge of petty larceny against him, which




388              THE WAY OF SALVATION.
would bring him into court to-morrow, who has no trouble at
the charge of total apostacy and utter revolt brought against
him by God. There is many a one who would be in the deepest
consternation if he knew that his name was before a grand jury
in some such connexion as his conscience could easily suggest,
who has no alarm at the thought of the "grand assize," and no
dread of the formidable catalogue of crimes drawn up against
him in the secrecy of the Divine counsels. A few remarks will
demonstrate that these charges against man in the Bible ought
to make an impression, and that men ought to be willing to
look at them. A case or two may therefore be supposed which
will show how men ought to be affected in view of such charges
brought by the Creator. The case of an officer in a bank may
be referred to. He has been long there, or in other stations in
public life; and has gained a character, compared with which all
the gold that the vaults of the bank could contain would be
worthless as the sand. Suddenly, charges are brought against
him of unfaithfulness to his trust. They come from quarters
worthy of his attention; proceed from such a source as inevitably
to gain the ear of the community; are such that his family must
know of them; are sustained by such circumstances of actual
losses in the bank as to render the charge credible; and are of
such a character as to make it necessary for him  to leave his
post, disgraced perhaps for ever.  Now it is not necessary to
suppose that these accusations are true. All that is designed
is to show the effect which charges of guilt, from a respectable
quarter, usually have on a man's mind.  But suppose he secretly
knew they were all true, how could his conduct be explained, if
he were utterly indifferent and unconcerned?
In regard to the charges which are brought against man a few
remarks may be made here, to show why they should be allowed
to make an impression on the mind. (1.) One consideration
respects the source from whence they come. They are professedly
the charges of our Maker and final Judge. They are those on
which we are to be tried at his bar, and in reference to which our
destiny is to be determined.  (2.) They are the most fearful of all
accusations which can be brought against a creature. No crime can
be equal to that of being an enemy of God; and no offence against
human society can equal, in enormity and ill-desert, the crimes
of which man is charged against his Maker.  (3.) The charge
extends to every human being. No exception is made in favour
of youth, beauty, rank, or blood; none in favour of the amiable,
the honest, or the moral; none in favour of those who have
endeavoured to wipe away the accusation by their own good




MAN CAINNOT JUSTIFY HIIMSELF.                389
conduct. It is not indeed charged that one is as bad as another, or
that any one is as bad as he can be; but it is that every one is
guilty of violating the law of God, and is held to be such a
sinner that he cannot save himself. (4.) It is charged that each
and every one is of such a character that the eternal pains of
hell would be an adequate recompense for his crimes.  He is
held to be under condemnation, and to be justly exposed to
punishment that shall be severe in the extremest degree, unmitigated, and everlasting. Each one is held to be such an evil-doer
that it would be wrong for God to admit him to heaven as he is,
but not wrong to consign him to unending woe. It is important
not to disguise anything about this, or to seek to hide it by soft
names.  The robber is deemed worthy of the penitentiary; the
murderer is regarded as deserving death on the gibbet; and in
like manner it is held in the charge brought against man, and
the threatenings appended to them, that every man deserves the
pains of everlasting death, and that if he should receive what is
properly due to him, he would be cast off from  God, and
punished for ever. Such is the nature of the charges against
man.  On these he is held guilty; on these he will be arraigned.
The Bible has two aspects. It reveals a way of pardon; but it
is also the grand instrument of indictment against man. It is
designed to reveal his character; to reprove his crimes; to overwhelm him with the conviction of guilt; and to be the standard of
judgment on the final day. The question therefore arises, now to be
considered, whether if these are the charges against man, he can
vindicate or justify himself. It has been already remarked, that
there are but two grounds to be taken in" such a vindication.
One is, to deny the facts charged on man; the other is, if the
facts be admitted, for him to show that he had a right to do as
he has done. There is nothing else that can be conceived of in
the case to be done by him, unless it were to attempt to make
expiation or reparation by extraordinary merit, by penance, or
by sacrifice; though this would not jstify him for what he had
done, any more than a man's paying a fine could make it right
for him to put out his neighbour's eye, or burn his house. If
neither of these things can be done, it will follow that man
cannot be justified by his own righteousness.  These points will
now be considered in their order. The first is, that man cannot
deny the truth of the charges brought against him. In support
of this the following considerations may be urged:(1.) The source whence these charges come. They are made
by God himself. It is assumed here that the Bible is true, and
the argument will be conducted on that assumption. In another




390'THE WAY OF SALVATION.
part of this volume it is shown that it is equally impossible to
deny the main facts, whether the Bible be true or false. The
position now is, that the sinner cannot take the ground that
God has mistaken the facts about man, or that he has designedly
brought a false accusation. It surely cannot be necessary to go
into an argument to prove this, but an illustration or two may
be allowed. (a) One is, that it is impossible for God to mistake
on this subject. Men often do mistake in reference to character
and conduct.  Charges are often falsely brought, and men are
often condemned as guilty on false accusations.  This may be
intentionally done; or judges and jurors may be mistaken; or
witnesses may be suborned to sustain the accusation, or those
needful for the defence may be absent; or a combination of circumstances which no human sagacity can control, may seem to
confirm the charge of guilt against the innocent. But obviously
no such mistake can occur in relation to the charges brought in
the Bible against man, nor can man set up a vindication of himself on the ground that his Maker has erred in reference to the
facts alleged.  (b) As little can he urge that the accusation has
been overdrawn; that a degree of guilt has been charged such
as the facts would not justify; or that there has been an intermingling of prejudice or passion which has given a colouring to
the charge, and that a calmer view may modify these accusations. We can easily admit that such things may occur among
men. Judges and jurors are liable to the same passions as other
men, and in a time of popular excitement it may happen that
the contagion may reach the bench and the jury-room; and
hence the laws are careful that the administration of justice
shall proceed with as much calmness and coolness as possible.
It may happen, also, that false charges are brought against men,
because they are obnoxious to those in power. Many a one
who has stood in the way of the purposes of a tyrant has been
removed under the forms of law, to gratify the passions of such
a man, and many a pure name has been covered with infamy
by the malignity of those in authority.  But it is not needful to
show that none of these things can be alleged by man in regard
to the charges brought against him by his Maker. It cannot be
pretended that God has been hurried into these charges under
the influence of passion; or that lman is obnoxious to his purposes, and that he would have him removed. The charges are
made with the utmost deliberation.  They are made by the most
benevolent Being in the universe; by One who can have no
pleasure in finding out proofs of guilt; by One who, fiom his
nature, is disposed to make every possible allowance for weak



IAiN  CGANOT JUSTIFY  HI -MSELF.                391
ness and infirmity,; by One who sees, better than man can state
it, everything that can be said in his defence; by One more
disposed than any human being ever was to do justice to all
that is amiable and pure.  If man wishes to find a friend who
will be kind to his infirmities, and do justice to him when the
world does him wrong, he can find no such friend as God. (c) It
may be added here, that the charge is one that no denial affects.
It has been deliberately made, and is that on which we are to
be tried.  WVe may deny it, or disregard it, but it is not thereby
affected. Whatever we may choose to think of it does not change
the estimate which our iMaker affixes to our character, any more
than the private views of a prisoner at the bar can modify the
estimate of the judge and jury: God will pronounce sentence on
us according to lis own estimlate of our character; and the only
security which we can |have  thBt we      shall not meet with condemunation will be in thce fct, that on some grounds he will
regard it as not proper to condemn us. But that cannot be by
attempting to deny the truth of the clharge lwhich he brings
against us, or by holding him either to be malignant or mistaken.
(2.) To show  that man cannot deny the truth of what is
alleged against him as a violator of the law, it may be observed,
secondly, that so far from  obeying the perfect law of God, he
has failed of yielding perfect obedience to the very lowest rules
of morality.  The standard at which man aims is in general low
enoug'h, and might be supposed sufficiently accommodatinng     to
satisfy any one who wished to save himself by his own righteousness. That standard is, at any rate, at an immeasurable distance from  the holy law  of God.  Yet let a man take any
standard of conduct which he pleases, and lie will fail -in all
attempts to show that he lhas always been conformed to it.
Who would undertake to prove before any tribunal that could
take cognizance of the motives, the thoughts, the words, as
well as the outward conduct, that he had always been honest,
true, kind, chaste, or courteous?  Who would attempt to prove
that he has on no occasion failed in his duty in the tenderest
relations of life?  WhatV husband would attempt to prove that
he has always had right emotions towards the wifei of his youth?
Who in this relation would attempt to prove that he had on no
occasion forgotten the high trust colimmitted to him when she
left her home and friends to be his?  What child is there that
would undertake to prove that he has never failed in his duty
to his father or his mother, that he has always been as respectful obedient, and grateful as lie ought to have been?  Is there
iio compunction, when he sees a father die?  Is there nothing
26




392              THE WAY -OF SALVATION.
which he would wish to recall when he stands by a mother's
grave? What brother would undertake to vindicate all his conduct towards a sister? or what friend is there that has never
had a feeling towards his friend which he ought not to have entertained?  Who is there that would undertake to say that he has
never failed in the duty of perfect honesty and truth in the transactions of business P Nay, to come down to a lower standard,
Who, professing to be governed by the laws of honour, would
venture, when he comes to die, to stake his eternal welfare on
the fact that he has never failed of perfect conformity to that
arbitrary code? Who that professes to be governed by the rules
of etiquette would attempt to maintain that those laws have
always been perfectly observed?  Let a man choose his own
standard of action; let him refer to any code by which he professes to regulate his conduct; would he be willing that every
thought, and word, and feeling, and action of his life should be
brought out to noonday, and that his eternal welfare should be
determined by the issue of the question, whether he had or had
not been perfectly conformed to that code?  If not, how shall
he vindicate himself from the charge of sin? And if he cannot vindicate himself in reference to these low and imperfect
standards, how shall he stand acquitted of the charge of having
violated the high and holy law of God?  That, he has never
made a standard or rule of life. That, he has never attempted
to obey. The love to his Maker which that requires, he has
never once attempted to exercise.  The holy duties which that
enjoins, he has never endeavoured to perform. Its sacred injunctions he has never thought of bearing with him to the relations of life, to the counting-room, to the circles of his friendship,
or to the scenes of his amusement. How, then, will he proceed
in attempting to show that the charges of guilt brought against
hlim are not true?
(3.) The charges which are brought against man by his Maker
are sustained by all the facts of history. What ground would
that man take, who should attempt to show that the accusations
in the Bible against the race, that it is sinful and prone to evil
are unfounded and false?  On what would he base his argument   To what part of the world, to what historic monument,
to what recorded opinions would he turn P  Men often feel that
the account in the Bible of the character of man, of the human
heart, of the tendency of our nature, is harsh and gloomy.
They are inclined to think better of the race, and to suppose that
the views in the Bible must have been derived from the observation of man in a peculiarly dark age of the world, or were the




MAN  CANNOT JUSTIFY  HIMSELF.                  393
result of feelings bordering on misanthropy.  They think that
man is better than he is there represented; or at least that by
certain modifications in society he reaches a state where that
description does not apply to him. On this account it is felt
that the charge is one that cannot be sustained; and that it is
not true now, that all hope of salvation on the ground of an
upright life is cut off. But let a few  indisputable facts be
submitted to candid men.  (a) One is, that the historic account
of human conduct in the Bible is no worse than in other records.
The narration of crimes, of wars, of ambition, of carnage, of
blood, of sensuality, of venality, of political profligacy or corruption of manners there, is no worse than is to be found in Livy
or Suetonius, in Gibbon or Hume. Every crime recorded in the
sacred narrative has more than one parallel in the records of
profane history; and every sentiment there expressed about man
can be confirmed by any number of testimonies that the most
sceptical could demand. The world has been many a time in a
state like that described by Moses as the cause of the deluge;
and the earth now bears up many a city where all the crimes
on account of which Sodom was overthrown still have an existence.  Herculaneum  and Pompeii have been revealed, by the
monuments exposed to human view from beneath the ashes that
covered them, to have been as corrupt, and corrupt in the same
sense, as the cities of the plain; and a single one of the capitals
of Europe embosoms probably now more revolting sins than they
all. There is not an instance of fraud, corruption, or villany,
attributed to man in the Bible, which has not its parallel in the
present age of the world. The instances of depravity whose
deeds are recorded in the Bible find abundant parallels in
profane history; and not one of the men of guilt there referred to
surpasses in wickedness the names of Nero, or Tiberius, of
Alexander VI., or his wretched son, of Henry VIII., or Charles II.;
or of the leaders of the French Revolution.  (b) The account
contained in the Bible of human depravity is sustained by the
opinions of the sober and reflecting in all ages. Those who
have given themselves to the contemplation of the condition of
the world, have seen in it the sad tendency  to depravity
in human nature, lamented it, and sought to correct it, and yet
the current of iniquity has swept over every barrier which man
could erect against it, and sweeps on unchecked from age to age.
(c) The same view of the human character has been taken by
wicked men themselves. Byron had no confidence in human
virtue; Walpole said that every man had his price; Chesterfield
regarded all virtue as false and hollow; Robespierre and Danton




394              THE WAY OF SALVATION.
acted under the belief that every man deserved the guillotine.
And (d) every man acts on the presumption that every other
man is a sinner, and that no confidence can be placed in him
without securities; and expects that every other one will regard
himself in the same light.  His security is not in human virtue,
but in vaults, and bars, and locks, and bonds; and he himself
expects to be treated by every other man as if he had the same
character. His head neither hangs down with shame, nor do
his eyes flash with indignatfn, when he is asked for security
that he will pay an honest debt, or when he is told in a bank,
or on exchange, that no individual or corporation will trust him
without having some other security besides himself that he is a safe
and honest man. In these circumstances, how can man go before
God and attempt to justify himself on the pretext that the charges
against him are not true? Can he take the ground that his Maker
is mistaken, or that he has maliciously brought a false accusation?
(4.) There is but one other observation which it is necessary
to make on this part of the subject. It is, that conscience
sustains the truth of all the charges which are brought against
man. Man exhibits this very strange and remarkable characteristic, that he often frames an argument to show that the race
is not as guilty as it is accused of being, and perhaps succeeds in
convincing others, but still his argument does nothing to affect
the proof as it lies in his own soul. There is that within himself
which is to him overpowering demonstration that his arguments
are all false, and that the charges against him are true.  God
has so formed the soul, that he has there at all times what may
be summoned forth, at his pleasure, as a living witness that all
that he has charged on man is true, and that shall render
nugatory in a moment all the reasonings of men about the
uprightness of their own hearts. This proof is found in a man's
own conscience.  This is a device by which man himself is made
to coincide with and confirm  the views of the Almighty; to
approve where he approves, to condemn where he condemns.
It stands apart from the deductions of reason; is little affected
by the arguments which men may employ; is susceptible of
being called up to give judgment at any time; often pronounces
sentence against the favourite opinions of the man himself; and
when unbiassed, uniformly declares judgment in favour of right,
and condemns what is wrong, and is always on the side of God
and his claims. This mysterious and wonderful power is wholly
under the Divine control. No matter what may be the cherished
opinions of man; no matter how he may call in question the correctness of the Divine testimony against human conduct, and no




MAN  CANNOT JUSTIFY  IIMSELF.                   395
matter how reluctant man may be to admit the impossibility of
being saved by his own works; God has power at any moment to
summon the mind itself to sustain his own account of the state
of the heart, and to put it into such a condition as to leave not
a shadow  of doubt that all that he has said respecting its
depravity is true.  It requires all the art of a sinner to keep the
voice of conscience silent, and to save himself from its rebukes.
Well he knows that if suffered to speak out, it will be in tones
of deep condemnation. It often does speak out. In solitude; in the
silence of the night; under the preaching of the gospel; when
the mind in its lonely musings runs back, by some mysterious
law of association, to the past; in a revival of religion; on a bed
of sickness, or in the prospect of death,-conscience often utters
its voice in tones that are so distinct that they can neither be
misunderstood nor suppressed. These are circumstances where
man is most likely to judge according to truth; and in such
circumstances, he is so made as to feel, without a doubt, that the
judgment pronounced by conscience is in accordance with that
of the Most High, and that the views pressed upon his conscience then about his own character, are those which willbe
confirmed by the sentence of the final Judge. " In thoughts
from the visions of the night," said an ancient sage, " when deep
sleep falleth on men, fear came upon me, and trembling, which
made all my bones to shake.  Then a spirit passed before my
face: the hair of my flesh stood up: it stood still, but I could
not discern the form thereof: an image was before mine eyes, there
was silence, and I heard a voice saying, Shall mortal man be
more just than God P shall a man be more pure than his Maker?
Behold, he put no trust in his servants; and his angels he
charged with folly: how much less in them that dwell in houses
of clay, whose foundation is in the dust, who are crushed before
the nioth?" Job iv. 13 —19,
I have concluded  but one part of my  argument, having
aimed to show  that man  cannot justify  himself before God
by  takling  the  ground  that the  facts are not as charged
upon him, or that he has not in fact violated the law of God.
This has been shown by these considerations:-that it is impossible to believe that God would bring a false charge against
man; that, as a matter of fact, man fails of perfect conformity
to the very lowest standard of morals; that the account in the
Bible of the human character is confirmed by all the records
elsewhere existing of the character of man; and that when man
has denied the charges against him, conscience comes in to confirm the accusations and the decisions of the Almighty.




396              THE'WAY OF SALVATION.
I should be glad to leave a single distinct impression on the
minds of my readers.  It is, that charges of guilt of a most
serious nature are made against every one of us. I should desire
that you would consider the source of those accusations, and be
willing to look at the evidence that they are true.  If, as I
believe, they are brought against us by God himself, not one
word is needed to show that they demand attention. They are
the most serious charges that can be made.  They come from a
source demanding the ear and the fixed attention of those against
whom they are brought.  If they are alleged by our Creator,
they are true; if true, they should excite alarm.  They must
somehow, and at some period, be met. It will not do to deny
their truth, or to laugh at them, or to forget them, or to regard
them with unconcern.  There they stand written against us in
the word of God. They are recorded in the history of our race.
They are engraven on our own souls. They are of such a nature
that they can easily be made to meet us on the bed of death.
They are such that unless they can be shown to be false, or unless
the offences charged on us be forgiven, they must sink us down to
everlasting suffering. And can man be unconcerned, where there
is the slightest evidence that such allegations are brought against
him by his Creator P There are those from whose eyelids, if they
had a suspicion that a rumour were breathed abroad in this
community respecting their integrity as men of business, sleep
would depart to-night. There are others, whose character is to
themselves so dear and so sacred, that a whisper about their
want of holy virtue would throw them  on a restless bed, and
drive peace from their bosom. Can you be indifferent when your
Creator stoops from his throne and charges you with sin, with
open rebellion, with such a character as to exclude you from his
favour P Can you suffer all this to pass by you as the idle wind?
Oh! could you see all, your eyes would not know the sweets of
slumber to-night; your body would be deprived of calm repose;
your conscience would be racked with horror; your soul would
be overwhelmed with deep and gloomy forebodings.  Can it be
a slight thing to be charged with damning guilt by the eternal
God?




SERMON XXXI.
MAN CANNOT JUSTIFY HIMSELF BY SHOWING THAT HIS
CONDUCT IS RIGHT.
Roa. iii. 20.-" By the deeds of the law there shall no flesh be justified."
IN the last discourse, I proposed to show from these words, that
man cannot be justified by his own righteousness.  In doing
this, I endeavoured to poigt out what is meant by justification,
and then entered upon an argument to prove that man cannot
justify himself before God. I observed that when a man is
accused of crime, there are two grounds of defence which he may
set up, on either of which, if successfully maintained, he will be
acquitted, or will be declared just in the sight of the law. He
may either deny the fact charged on him, or, admitting the fact,
he may urge that he had a right to do as he has done. I showed
that man is charged by his Maker with the violation of his law,
and that if he will justify himself, he must either deny the truth
of the charge, or show that in the circumstances of the case he
had a right to do as he has done. The first of these grounds of
defence I proceeded to examine at length, and attempted by the
following considerations to establish the position that man cannot deny the truth of the charges brought against him:-that
God, who brings them, could not be mistaken, and could not have
brought them from  malignity; that man, in fact, so far from
obeying the holy law of God, has failed of perfect conformity to
the lowest standard of morality; that the account of man in the
Bible is confirmed by all the facts and all the monuments of
history; and that the charges in the Bible are sustained by the
decisions of conscience.
The only other ground of defence or of justification which man
can set up is, that it. was right or proper for him to do as he
has done; that admitting the facts in the case to be as they are
charged-that he does not love his Maker with a perfect heart
-that he violates his laws-that he is under the influence of
unholy passions-and that he neglects many things which are
required of him,-yet that such are the circumstances in which
he is placed that it is not wrong for him to do as he has done,




3938'12l ITHE WAY  OF SALVATION.
or that le has a valid excuse, and ought not to be condemned.
His condition, he might be ready to admit, is one that is to be
pitied; but his conduct is not such as to deserve blame or punishment.  If a man can make this out, he will not be condemned,
for God will not condemnl the innocent. If man has good and
sufficient excuse for what he has done, there is no being in the
universe who will look more benignantly on it than God, for
there is no one so ready to do justice to the innocent, or to
allow  its proper weight to all that ought to exculpate.  It
is necessary, therefore, to examine this ground of defence, or to
inquire whether man can set up the plea that he has a right to
do as he has done; to live as he is in fact living.  Man is soon
to stand before his Maker on a high charge of guilt.  If he cannot deny the facts charged on him, he must take the ground that
he has a right to do as he has done; that he has a valid reason
which excuses him; that he ought to be acquitted, and that his
deliverance should be hailed everywhere with songs and rejoicing,
and that he ought to be received to heaven in triumph.  What
is this ground of defence?  VWhat is its value? Will it avail on:
the final trial?
Here it may be observed, that man will not set up the plea of
insanity, though more insane on the subject charged on hint
than many who have been acquitted by human tribunals.  Man
has too much pride, and too much confidence that he is right
and that God is wrong, to urge this plea.  Nor would he maintain that God has no jurisdiction over the case, for nothing is
plainer than that he owes allegiance to the laws of his Maker,
and that he cannot go beyond the limits of his empire.  The
points on which the accused sinner-must rely, if he would undertake to show that he is not to blame for what he has done and
to justify himself, must be such as the following:-either that
the constitution of things under which he is placed is such as to
imake it inevitable that he should do as he does; or that he is
but acting out the nature which God has given him, and that
therefore it must be right; or that the law of God is unreasonably severe and stern, and he is excusable for not obeying it; or
that the time of preparation for eternity is too short, and that
too great interests are made to depend on this brief period of
existence; or that the penalty is too severe, and that if a man
acts as well as he knows how, though he does not conform to the
holy law of God, he ought not to be recompensed with eternal
torments.  If these points can be made out, man ought to be
acquitted.  If they cannot, has he any other ground of defence
on which he canl rely?




MAN  CANNOT JUSTIFY  I'LMSEI'F.                 399
1. The first of these grounds of defence is derived from  the
constitution of thlings under whiach we are placed.  Our minds,
when we set up this defence, go back to the arrangement with
Adam, and the effect of his sin on his posterity.  The form  of
this defence is, that his fall, by the Divine arrangement, placed
ius in far more unfavourable circum-stances for salvation than
those in which we should otherwise have been; that his apostacy
made it certain that all his descendants would sin; that it made
it certain that the first act of each moral agent on earth would
be wrong; that there was a strong probability thus created that
all his posterity would be lost; and that all our strong propensities to evil, and our exposure to ruin, are to be traced to this
arrangement.  If they who rely on this ground of defence were
disposed to take shelter under the declarations of Scripture, the
defence would be found in the following statements of the apostle
Paul: — " Through the offence of one many are dead."  " The
judgment was by one to condemnation.' " By one man's offence,
death reigned by one."  " By the offence of one, judgment came
upon all men to condemnation."  "By one man's disobedience,
many were made sinners."'"The law entered, that the offence
might abound," aRom. v. 15 —17, 20.  If these things are so,
how can man be held to be guilty for conduct thus rendered
certain and inevitable?
The question now is, whetler this can be regarded as a vindication of the undisputed facts in the conduct of man.  Will it
be admitted as a sufficient reason for what we have done in
violation of the holy law of God, when we stand at his bar?
The fact is undeniable, that nman early goes astray, and that he
continues to wander farther and farther unless lie is restrained
or reclaimed.  Is it a sufficient excuse for this that Adam fell,
and that we live under such a constitution that his sinning made
it certain that we should sin also?
Now in examining this question we may admit two things:
one is, that our circumstances in consequence of his fall are in
nmany respects less favourable than they would otherwise have
been; or that incalculable evils have come upon us in consequence of his apostacy; and the other is, that there is much
about it which neither revelation nor human philosophy explains.  But these are different points from the one before us,
whether that act of our first father is a sufficient excuse or
apology for our crimes; or, whether we can take shelter under
that constitution as a vindication from  the charge of guilt.  In
reply to this, two or three remarks may be made.
The first is, that we are responsible not for his sin, but for our




400             THE WAY OF SALVATION.
own. The sin which is charged upon us is not his, but ours.
The question is, not whether his acting as he did will free us
from accountability or ill-desert, on account of his act-which is
plain enough;-but whether it will free us from  ill-desert on
account of our own sins. We could not be held guilty, that is,
blameworthy, for his sin; and if this were the charge, the defence set up must be conclusive. No reasoning has yet shown
that man either is or can be regarded as blameworthy on account
of the crime of his first father.
Again, the fall of Adam, and the constitution under which we
live, compel no one to sin. All sin is voluntary, and there is
nothing in which man more consults his own pleasure than in
the course of life which is charged upon him. Every profane
man means to be profane; every dishonest man prefers to be
dishonest; every sensual man has pleasure in moral corruption.
It is a great law of our being that where freedom ends, responsibility ends, and there is nothing more universally true than
that a wicked man does only what he prefers to do. Nay, the
sins which are charged on him are very often the fruit of long
and deliberate plan; and so attached is he to a course of iniquity, that no argument or entreaty is sufficient to induce him to
attempt to change his method of life.  So voluntary are men in
their sins, that there is no argument or topic of persuasion
which will induce those living in sin, of themselves, to break off
their transgressions and turn to God.  A man must take the
ground that he is compelled by the act of Adam to do what he
would otherwise not do, before that apostacy can be a vindication from the charges alleged against him. Further, this plea
would neither be urged nor admitted by man himself in any
other case. In all the numerous charges brought against men
before human tribunals, in different lands and ages, it is probable that this has never once been alleged as a vindication.
To no murderer, thief, pirate, or traitor, has it ever occurred to
urge this in his own defence. The state of the world has never
been such that it would be tolerated for a moment; nor has the
consideration that Adam fell, and that we are under a constitution where all sin, probably ever modified, even in a single
instance, the verdict of a jury.  There have been men on the
bench, and in the jury-box, who have held this as a theological
dogma, or as an excuse for their own sins before God; but in a
court-room nature speaks out, and no man would venture to
apply such a dogma of theology to a decision of the bench.
What would it avail on a charge of murder before any court in
the world P




MAN  CANNOT JUSTIFY HIMSELF.                  401
One other remark. It remains yet to be shown, that the facilities for obtaining the Divine favour by men in their fallen
state are less than they would have been had they entered the
world in the condition of their first parents.  Are any sent to
hell for Adam's sin?  That remains yet to be proved.  Are any
infants lost?  Not a particle of evidence has ever yet been furnished of this. Is it beyond the capacity of children to please
God?  Let the remarks of the Saviour about the hosannas in
the temple answer.  Is it less easy for us to obtain the Divine
approbation, and to be saved, than it would have been if Adam
had not fallen?  That remains to be proved: for if a choice
were to be made, it would seem to be easier to believe on Christ,
and to trust to him for salvation, than to keep a holy law unbroken for ever. And if these things are so, then man cannot put
his defence on the ground that he is brought into the world under
a constitution which made it certain that he would be a sinner.
II. A second ground of defence to which man resorts in selfvindication, akin to this-but more common and more plausible
-is, that he is bit acting out the propensities of his nature. He
did not make himself. He is as God made him. He is but
inidulging inclinations which his Creator has implanted in his
bosom, and the indulgence of which, therefore, cannot be attended
with blame, or followed by his displeasure.  Can it be wrong
for him to look upon the light of the sun P  Can it be wrong for
him to be charmed with the beauty of a sweet landscape, or the
pleasant music of a waterfall? Can it be wrong for him to allay
the demands of hunger and thirst, to protect himself from cold,
and to provide a shelter from  the storm     The innocence of
these things being admitted, as it must be, he applies the concession to all the propensities and inclinations within him, to all
that has led him to do what is charged upon him as wrong, and
says, "I am as God made me, and for that I cannot be held to
be guilty: I ought, therefore, to be acquitted of the charge of
guilt."  Let us inquire whether this will answer as a ground of
defence before God.
The most obvious remark in regard to it is, that if it is a valid
excuse in reference to religion, it is in reference to human conduct generally.  For why may not any man accused of crime
urge the same thing in self-defence?  Has he done anything
more than act out certain propensities which he found in his
nature?  VWhen Cesar crossed the Rubicon, Hannibal the Alps,
Alexander the Granicus, or when Napoleon poured his armies
on Italy, Egypt, Austria, or Russia, did they do anything more
than follow out the inclinations of their nature?  Did they not




4032             THE WAY OF SALVATION.
find stirring within them a spirit of ambition which urged them
on to trample down the liberties of mankind?  Did Robespierre
or Diderot, Alexander VI. or CGesar Borgia, do anything more
than act out certain propensities in their souls P  Did Torquemada in the inquisition, or Cortes in the butcheries of Mexico,
do anythinlg but act out what they found within theirs?  And
the assassin, the duellist, the murderer, what does he do more?
Is he not following out his natural impulses, as much as the
sinner who urges this plea    And would not this plea be as
good for the one as the other?
But further, this plea is contrary to the convictions of common
sense, and the universal judgment of right among men.  If it
were well-founded, then the true course for man, if he would
please God, would be to give unrestrained indulgence to every
inclination in his bosom. Nay, then it would be wrong for him
to check any of his passions, and his duty would be to give them
the rankest growth, and the broadest indulgence possible; for
should not man cultivate all that God has implanted in his
bosom? Then all the restraints on the passions of children must
be displeasing to God; all the lessons of order, morality, and
religion, are a contravening of his wishes; all colleges, schools,
and churches, are a nuisance; all court-houses and prisons are a
violation of human liberty.  Then the great benefactors of the
race, and those who have been especially the friends of God, and
have obtained the highest seat in heaven, have been those who
have proclaimed the innocence of universal licentiousness, or
who have furnished the greatest facilities for the indulgence of
passion.  From the preachers of religion-from pious princesfiom the dispensers of justice-from the patrons of order and of
law-from Paul, Aurelian, and Hale,-the crown is to be transferred to such moralists as Paiine, such princes as Charles II.,
and such judges as Jeffries. But who is prepared to take this
ground?  This view  goes against the common sense and the
common judgments of men.  There are things in man to be
restrained in order that he may be virtuous.  It is not sufficient
to secure the meed of virtue to say, " I am as God made me, and
am but acting out the propensities of my nature."  WAhat then
is the mistake which is made in this plea?   What fallacy is
there in it, for it seems to have plausibility and truth?  An
answer may be readily given to these questions by making a
distinction, which the young man may apply through life to the
noblest purposes of self-improvement. In the plea set up, two
things are confounded, which are wholly distinct, and which are
to be dealt with on different principles — our constitutional pro



MAN CANNOT JUSTIFY  HIMSELF.                   403
pensities as God made them, and our corrupt propensities which
have another origin. The former are to be cultivated, and carried
to the highest pitch of perfection possible; the latter are to be
checked, restrained, subdued.  The former are innocent, noble,
and ennobling; the latter are debasing and degrading —" corrupt, sensual, devilish."  There are propensities of our nature,
and laws of our being, which God has implanted, and which,
if kept within proper limits, are harmless, or which may contribute to our highest elevation in the scale of existence,  To
eat, to drink, to sleep, are laws of our animal being, harmless if
restrained, debasing if indulged in contrariety to the just rules
of temperance.  To aspire after knowledge, to seek a " good
name," to rise to the fellowship of higher intelligences, to bring
out and cultivate the benevolent affections, is to follow nature as
God has made us, and never betrays or debases us.  But to
follow out the inclinations of ambition, and pride, and vanity,
and lust, and revenge, is a different thing.  These debase and
sink to a lower level than that of brutes; for in proportion as
we may rise, so may we descend.  The star that culminates
highest, may sink the lowest; and as woman, if vile, sinks lower
than man can, so man, if debased, sinks beneath the brute.
Men mistake then in this. When they indulge in these things,
they are not in any proper sense acting out their nature.  They
are not as God made them.  They are sunken, debased, fallen.
Let men act according to the great laws which He has impressed
upon their being, and they will be noble, holy, godlike.  Thus
acting, man would have met the approbation of his Maker, and
might have pleaded innocent to the charges of guilt.  But let
him not give indulgence to corruption, and then seek shelter in
the plea, " I am as God made me."
III. A third ground of defence would be, that the law of God
is stern and severe, and that his requirements are of such a nature
that man has no power to compl2y with them. The position which
would be taken is, that there is no obligation where there is no
ability, and that as man now has no power to yield obedience,
he cannot be held to be chargeable with guilt.  The principle
here stated seems to be one that is based on common sense, and
that must ever command the assent of all men who are not
blinded by theory or by prejudice. It is impossible for man to
feel himself guilty, or blameworthy, for not doing what he had
no power to do. He may count it a misfortune, or he may experience calamities and suffer losses, because he has no greater
power, but it is not possible for him to feel on this account the
compunctions of remorse. With the limited powers of man, it




404              THE WAY OF SALVATION.
is impossible for him ever to feel himself guilty for not creating
a world, or not guiding the stars, or not raising the dead; and
he cannot conceive that by any revelation whatever, or any
course of reasoning, or any requirement laid on him, he should
ever feel himself blameworthy for not doing these things. If
then it were so, that God has required of man more than he is
in any sense able to perform, the nature which he has given usand which in that case would be a very strange and unaccountable endowment -  would teach us two things: one, that his
government was a tyranny; and the other, that man could not
be to blame. Such a creature under such a government might
be made to suffer, but could not be punished; he might experience pain of body, but he never would know the pangs of
remorse. But is this so?  The law itself is the best exponent
of the views of God on this subject, and that law is clear and
explicit.   " Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy
heart, and with all thy soul. and with all thy mind.  This is
the first and great commandment.  And the second is like unto
it, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself. On these two com.mandments hang all the law and the prophets," Matt. xxii. 37 —40.
Could anything be more reasonable than this? God asks nothing
which we have not; nothing which we have no power to render.
He asks " all" the heart, the mind, the strength, and he asks no
more.  He does not require for himself the service claimed of
angelic powers, but that adapted to our own; he asks no love
for our neighbour which we do not feel that we are abundantly
able to show to ourselves.  To take shelter from  the charges
against us, under the plea that our Maker has required services
beyond our power to render, is therefore directly in the face of
his own requirements; is to charge him  with tyranny, where
his requirements are as clear as noonday, and as equal as they
can be, and where he has expressly told us that the plea cannot,
and will not be sustained:-" O house of Israel, are not my
ways equal    Are not your ways unequal P  Therefore will I
judge you, O house of Israel, according to your ways, saith the
Lord God. Repent, and turn yourselves from all your transgressions; so iniquity shall not be your ruin," Ezek. xviii. 29, 30.
IV. A fourth ground of defence on which man charged with guilt
is secretly relying in self-justification is, that the penalty of the
law of God is unreasonably severe, and  that no consideration can
make it right to recompense the errors and crimes of this short
life with eternal lpunishment. The ground here taken is, that it
would be wrong for God to punish man in this manner, and
therefore that man has a claim to eternal life. The inference




MAN CANNOT JUSTIFY HIMSELF.                  405
which the sinner charged with guilt draws is, that if the penalty
is unreasonably severe, he cannot be held to be guilty, and has a
right to disregard the law of his Maker. Now it is not my design
to attempt a defence of the doctrine of eternal punishment, or to
show that the impenitent sinner will suffer for ever. It must be
admitted that there are mysteries on that subject which the
human powers at present cannot explain. All that the subject
demands is, to examine this reasoning which the sinner sets up
in his defence. Is the severity of a penalty, then, even supposing it to be wholly unreasonable, a valid excuse for violating
law, or for doing wrong?  It is possible to conceive-for such
things have been-that the penalty for the crime of treason may
be entirely too severe; that its execution may be attended with
barbarous cruelty; and that it may be followed by a taint of
blood, and by inflictions on the family of the traitor wholly
unjustifiable by any principles of equity. But would this be any
justification of the act of treason P  Does it make the betrayal
of the state a matter of duty or of innocence P  Is it such a
meritorious act, that he who performs it has a claim  on the
offices and emoluments which a sovereign has to bestow  on
deserving subjects?  So in the matter before us. If there are
things which we cannot explain about future punishment, —if it
has a degree of severity which we have no means of vindicating',is it fair to infer that it is right to violate the law of heaven;
and has he who does it a claim on the crown of glory?  Yet
this seems to me to be what is involved in this ground of
defence which a man charged with sin sets up. Would it be
reasonable or proper for him to suppose that God would admit a
plea drawn from  his own alleged injustice and cruelty, as a
reason for the habitual violation of his law?  But the plea has
no force in another respect. Our relations to the administration
of justice are not only concerned with the question what the
penalty is, but with the question whether it is practicable to
avoid it.  There may be reasons operating in the appointment
of a penalty which we do not understand.  All that is necessary
for us to know is, what the penalty is, and to have such freedom
that we can avoid it by a correct life. They who live in
England now, or they who lived under the administration of
the laws in times of greater severity, can have no reason to
complain, so far as appears, of the punishment affixed there to
treason.  It can be readily seen, indeed, that there would be
much that would be painful and disgraceful in being drawn on
a hurdle to the place of execution; in being quartered, and
publicly exposed; in the confiscation of property, the degradation




406               THE  WAY OF SALVATION.
of a family, and the taint of blood; but why should a good
citizen, who did lnot design to commit treason, complain of it?
It would be easy to avoid it, and his knowing the severity of the
punishment should only make him  the more cautious to do his
duty to his country.  Least of all, knowing what the penalty
was, could he when he had betrayed his country set up a plea of
innocence on the ground that the penalty was severe?  Without
pursuing this reasoning any further, may it nol  be asked here
whether it is not just as applicable to the government of God as
to a human administration?
V. There is but one other ground of defence, or self-justification,
which the accused sinner can be supposed to set up: it is, that
too great results are made to de pend on the present life; that life
is too short, that our days asre too few  and fleeting, that our
continuance here is too uncertain, that we are liable to be too
suddenly called awa.y, to make it proper to suspend so great
interests on anything that vwe can do here.  The accused sinner
would take the ground  that eternal consequences demand a
longer probation, and that the long'e,-ity of the antediluvian
patriarch as as a period quite circumscribed enough to make it
proper to suspend so great interests upon life. Much might be
said  in  reply to this, but. reference migllt be made to the
instances which occur in the life of an individual or in a state,
where the most momentous and far-reaclhin  results are made to
depend on the action of a moment.  But without dwelling on
the numerous illustrations which occur on that point, two remarks may be made in reply to this ground of defence.  One is,
that, as experience has in millions of cases shown, the time
allotted.to man is ample for a preparation for eternity.  Countless hosts before the throne have found it so, and millions are on
their way to join them, w'ho find the period of probation abundant to enable them to prepare for heaven.  That all others are
not with them in the same blissful path is not because life is too
short to enter it, but is to be traced to other causes.  Men require length of days to amass wealth, or to perfect their schemes
of earthly aggrandisement, but the purposes of salvation do not
need it. The giving of the heart to God in sincerity through Jesus
Christ-an act which may be performed in the briefest period
during which a moral agent lives-is enough to secure salvation.
Wealth or honour could not be secured in so brief a period, but
the salvation of the soul rmar.  The other iemark is, that this
vindication is set up in circumstances which painfully cemonstrate that it cannot be sincere.  Not time enough to secure
salvation! Too great interests suspended on this brief period of




iMAN CANNOT JUSTIFY  HIMSELF.                407
existence! Unreasonable to make eternal results depend on the
fleeting hours of this short life! And f4om whom do these objections come? From those on whom the hours of life hang heavily,
and " who are often wishing its different periods at an end;" from
those who are impatient for some season of festivity or enjoyment to arrive, and who chide the slow-revolving wheels of
time; from those whose days are weariness and sadness, for the1J
have nothing to interest them, nothing to do; from those whose
principal study is the art of killing time, and all whose plans
have no other end; from those who waste the hours that might
be consecrated to prayer in needless slumber, and from  whose
lips each morning, while they now are locked in repose, there
might proceed the earnest breathing of a penitent heart that
would ensure salvation; from those who, over worthless or corrupting verse, or in the perusal of romances, or in day-dreams,
or at the toilet, waste each day time enough to secure the redemption of the soul.  From such lips and hearts, from those who
live thus, and to whom life puts on these forms, assuredly the
objection should not be heard, that too great results are made
to depend on this short life, and that therefore they are blameless in neglecting God.
If these are correct views, then the sinner cannot justify himself. It has been shown that he cannot deny the reality of the
facts charged on him, and the grounds of defence which the
human heart is disposed to set up in self-vindication have been
considered. It is not improper, at this stage of the argument,
to make a personal appeal to my readers, and to ask them to
look at the ground which we have gone over as a personal
matter. To my mind it seems clear beyond the shadow of a
doubt, that the position which has been taken is correct as an
argument, and that it is clear that man can neither deny the
truth of the charges alleged against him, nor vindicate himself
for what he has done. But whatever may be thought of the
argument, attempted as an argument, on one point there can be
no difference of opinion-that the conclusion which we have
reached is in accordance with the Bible.  That conclusion is,
that the unpardoned sinner is a lost and ruined being; that he
is under condemnation; that he is held to be guilty in the sight
of God; that he is soon to be arraigned on charges involving the
question of his eternal welfare; and that unless he is in some
way acquitted of those charges, they will sink him to ruin. The
views which have been thus expressed lie at the foundation of
the system of salvation by grace. They are such as when felt
lead to the conviction of sin, and to that sense of helplessness
27




408             THE WAY OF SALVATION.
which is preparatory to the reception of pardon and salvation
by the grace of the gospel. If these views produced the effect
they are fitted to work, they would leave the impression of guilt,
helplessness, and danger on the mind of every one who is not
converted and pardoned.  Sooner or later every one will feel
this. The sinner may be unwilling to admit the force of these
arguments now; for no one, if he can help it, will be overwhelmed with the conviction of guilt, or have his mind unsettled and harassed by apprehensions of danger.  But not
always can he put this subject far from him. He will lie down
and die; and there are sad feelings which the dying sinner has,
when he reflects that his life has been spent in sin, and that he
is dying under condemnation. He will, from the bed of death,
look out tremblingly on the eternal world-on that shoreless and
bottomless ocean on which he is about to be launched; and it
will be sad to feel that he is about to enter that vast and fearful
world an unpardoned sinner. He will tread his way up to the
bar of a holy God; and little as he may be concerned about that
now, it will be sad to tread that gloomy way alone, and to feel
as he goes that he is under condemnation. He will stand and
look on the burning throne of Deity, and on his final Judge; he
will await, and with what an agony of emotion, the sentence
that shall fall from his lips, sealing his eternal doom! Oh, how
can he then be just with God P How vindicate his ways before
him? How stand there and justify his neglect of the Divine
commands, his neglect of prayer, his neglect of the offers of
mercy, his neglect of his own soul? How, then, can he show
his Maker that it was right not to love him; not to pray to
him; not to thank him; not to embrace his offers of mercy?
How can he show that it was right for him to live without hope
and without God in the world? How can he be saved?




SERMON XXXII.
MAN  CANNOT MERIT SALVATION.
JoB xxxv. 5-8.  "Look unto the heavens, and see; and behold the
clouds, which are higher than thou. If thou sinnest, what doest thou against
him? or if thy transgressions be multiplied, what doest thou unto him? If
thou be righteous, what givest thou him? or what receiveth he of thine
hand? Thy wickedness may hurt a man as thou art; and thy righteousness
may profit the son of man."
THESE are the words of Elihu, who, though not inspired, has
expressed a sentiment which the Spirit of inspiration has regarded
it as important to preserve.  The general idea is, that God is so
great and independent that the conduct of men can neither injure
nor profit him; that though man may be affected in his interests
by the treatment which he receives from his fellow-men, no such
treatment, whether good or evil, can affect the great and eternal
God-the God that made the heavens, and that dwells in regions
beyond the clouds, The evil conduct of man cannot mar His happiness, or otherwise injure Him; nor can man's acts of righteousness so
belnefit Him as to lay Him under obligation. " If thou be righteous,
what givest thou him? or what receiveth he of thine hand?
Thy wickedness mczay hurt a man as thou art; and thy righteousness may profit the son of man."  It is one part of this general
sentimeent only that I here design to illustrate —that our acts
of righteousness cannot so profit God as to lay him under obligation to us.
In the two previous discourses I have endeavoured to prove that
man cannot justify himself either by denying the facts charged on
him, or by showing that he had a right to do as he has done.  The
inquiry at once presents itself, How then can he be saved? There
are but two ways conceivable —one by his own merits, that is, that
he somehow  deserves to be saved; the other, by the merits of
another or of others.  If it be in the latter way, it must either be
by the merits of Christ, or it must be because certain eminent
saints have done more than was demanded of them, and that their
merits, garnered up and deposited in certain hands, can be made
over to others.  It is not proposed to inquire now whether this
latter method be in accordance with truth, but whether men




410              THE WAY OF SALVATION.
can merit salvation for themselves.  They can do it if their
lives are such that they deserve to go to heaven, or if it would
be wrong for God to punish them for ever, for " God will not do
wickedly, neither will the Almighty pervert judgment," Job
xxxiv. 12. The importance of this inquiry will be at once
perceived; for the great mass of mankind are depending on their
own righteousness for salvation, and the grand issue between
Christianity and the world lies just in this point.  There are two
subjects of inquiry, which, if they can be made clear, will conduct
to the truth in this case:-I. What is meant by merit? and, II.
Can man merit heaven?
I. TWhat is meant by merit?  The word is in common use, and
the common use is the correct one.  We speak of merit when a
man deserves a reward for something which he has done, or when
it would be wrong to withhold it. Ite renders to him who employs
him an equivalent, or what is of as much value as is paid him for
his services.  Two or three simple illustrations will make the
common use of the word plain, and show its bearing on the question
before us.
You hire a day-labourer.  You make a bargain with him at the
outset; he complies with the terms on his part, and at night you
pay him. He has earned, deserved, or merited that which you
pay. He has been faithful to his part of the agreement, and the
service which he has rendered is worth as much to you as the
wages which you pay him.  You could have done the work
perhaps yourself, but you preferred to hire him, for you might
yourself be more profitably or pleasantly employed. At all events,
what he has done is worth to you all which you pay him, and it
would be wrong on every consideration for you to withhold it.
If you choose to give him anything more than was specified in
the agreement, it would be a gratuity; but that which you
agreed to give him he has a right to demand, and you are not
at liberty to withhold it. He has deserved or earned it, for he
has rendered you a full equivalent, according to the terms of the
contract.
A man enlists to defend his country as a soldier. It is supposed,
in the contract which is made with him, that his service will be
of equal value to his country with the pay which he receives.
By fighting its battles; by guarding its sea-coasts, villages, towns,
and hamlets; by keeping its fields from being trod down by an
enemy; by protecting the lives of aged men, helpless women, and
children; and by defending the flag of the nation from insult, it is
supposed that his services are worth full as much to the country
as he receives in his pay. The pay is graduated in part by the




MAN CANNOT MERIT SALVATION.                   411
best estimate which can be made of the value of the service which
a man can render in this calling, and the nation would be no
gainer by dismissing him from its service.  He complies with the
contract, and when he comes and shows his scars, and tells of his
perils and privations, his weary marches, and his risk of life,
and his separation from home and friends in the cause of his
country, his country will not grudge him  the pittance that he
receives, for lie has earned it, and merited it, and it would not be
right to withhold it from him.
You employ a physician; the service which he renders you, you
regard a full equivalent for what you pay him. What you receive
from him in his care, attention, skill, and sympathy, you consider
to be fully equal in value to the compensation which you give
him. Your relief from pain, your recovery of the use of your
bodily powers, or the restoration to your affectionate embrace in
sound health of a wife or child, you consider as an ample equivalent
for all which he asks you for his services; and were an election
to be made, you would much prefer to pay the amount of the
physician's fees to going through those sorrows again. What he
receives from you, you feel that on every account he deserves or
has earned, and it would be wrong for you to withhold it.
In each of these cases, that is true which the apostle Paul
affirms, " To him that worketh, the reward is not reckoned of
grace, but of debt."  These illustrations will explain the proper
sense of the word "merit." In each instance, there is an equivalent
for what is paid; in each instance, what is demanded could be
enforced as a claim of right. There is no other sense in which the
word merit or desert can be used.  All besides this is favour or
grace. If you choose to give the day-lahourer, the soldier, or the
professional man more than you agreed, or more than his services
are worth to you, you have an undoubted right to do so, but you
would not put it on the ground of his merit or desert. You would
feel that it was a gratuity which could not be enforced by justice,
and that no blame would be attached to you if it were withheld.
If his perils, or services, or self-denials and sacrifices, were greater
than you anticipated when the contract was made, or if the service
rendered was really of more value to you than the amount which
you are pledged to give him, you may consider yourself bound by
equity to give him more, for you feel that he has earned or merited
it. Thus you would be glad to compensate, if you could, the
wounded soldier who has perilled all in your defence; and on the
same principle, if you could do it, you would wish to recompense
the man who at the risk of his life should save your child from
the devouring flame, or from a watery grave.




412              TTHE WAY OF SALVATION.
IT. We come now to apply these principles to the case before us.
Keeping this explanation of the nature of merit:in view, we
approach the inquiry, vwhether man can merit heaven?  Can he
be saved because he deserves it?  Can he be so profitable to God
that he can advance a just claim to an admission into the world of
glory? If he can, then his salvation follows as a matter of course;
if he cannot, he should lose no time in endeavouring to ascertain
whether there is any other way by which he may be saved.  In
reference to this inquiry, the following considerations may be
submitted:(1.) Man can render no service to his Maker for which the
rewards of heaven would be a proper equivalent.  Or, in other
words, the amount of service which he can render is not such as
can be properly measured by the reward of everlasting life.  His
service to his Maker and to the universe is not of so much value
that he can claim  eternal life as an equivalent.  We have seen
that this does exist in the case of the day-labourer, the soldier,
and the physician.  We can see a correspondence between the
service rendered and the compensation in these cases, which makes
us feel that there is propriety and equity in the reward.  But in
reference to any connexion or correspondence between the service
which man can render his Maker and the rewards of heaven, we
can see no such propriety and equity.  The one does not measure
the other.  The universe is not so much benefited by the service
of man, that everlasting life and infinite happiness would be only
a fair equivalent, or such that wrong would be done if that
reward should be withheld. Yet is it not a fair principle, that
this must be the case if man deserves or merits salvation?  Must
there not have been such an amount or value of service rendered
that it would be injustice to withhold the reward-injustice such
as would occur in the case of the faithful day-labourer, tlhe
soldier, the physician, if their pay were withheld?  That must be
extraordinary service rendered to the universe, or to God; which
deserves the glories of an eternal heaven as its reward.  That is
extraordinary service rendered to you if a stranger rescues a child
from impending death, and restores him to your transported bosom,
and you feel that no compensation which you can make would be
more than an equivalent. That was extraordinary service which
was rendered to their country by the heroes of the American
Revolution; and as the results of their patriotism and perils are
seen in the unexampled prosperity of the land which they rescued,
we feel that the pension of the old soldier is a very inadequate
recompense.  That was extraordinary virtue which led the father
of his country through the trials, perplexities, and perils of that




MAN  CANNOT MERIT SALVATION.                   413
time, and which he evinced when, having laid the foundation of
our liberty, he voluntarily retired to private life, leaving the
people in the enjoyment of freedom; and we feel that no wealth
which the nation had to offer, no monument of marble or of brass
which art could rear, would equal the measure of his praise.  But
has man any such extraordinary service to render to his Maker
and to the universe? Has he done anything, can he do anything
for God, and for the empire which he rules, which would make
the wealth of heaven and its everlasting glories only an equitable
recompense?  Obviously, there is no congruity, no fitness, no
correspondence between the one and the other; and when men
talk about meriting heaven, or when they feel that they deserve to
be saved, they have not well considered the import of language.
They use it correctly in common life. Is it not right to ask that
it may be used with the same exactness in religion?
(2.) This general principle, which appears so obvious, may be
illustrated with particular reference to the religious services which
men render to their Maker. If man merits heaven, and is to
be saved on account of his own deservings, it will be conceded that
the service must be in some way connected with religion, or of
such a nature that it can be regarded as the service of God. You
would not feel yourself bound to pay a day-labourer if, instead of
working for you, he worked all day for your Ileighbour, or were
idle; you would not think of recompensing a soldier if he slept at
his post, or fought under the standard of the enemy.'here are religious men upon the earth-men who are honestly
engaged in the service of God, and who, in connexion with their
religious services, are looking for the rewards of heaven.  Our
subject, ill its progress, demands that we inquire just here whether
the service which they render is of such a nature that they merit
eternal life? Is it because they are so profitable to God and his
cause that the rewards of heaven would be only an equivalent for
the services which they render?  Let us look a moment at this
matter.
A man who is truly religious renders a real and a valuable service
to the cause of virtue and of God.  His existence is a blessing,
and not a curse.  The universe is made better and happier because
hle lives. It would be a loss to society and to the universe, if his
example, his conversation, his plans of wisdom, his experience,
and his generous deeds, were annihilated or had not been.  When
the "rewards" of heaven are bestowed upon him, it will not be
without some reference to a fitness or propriety that they should
be so bestowed.  There will be a sense in which every man
will be "rewarded according to his works."  But in reference




41-4              THE WAY  OF SALVATION.
to the bearing of this indisputable fact on the case before us, there
are two or three things that deserve to be considered.
(a) One is, that your individual existence is not necessary to
secure the service which is now actually rendered. God'is not so
dependent on you that he could not accomplish his purposes
without you, or that if you should be removed, service of equal
value might not be secured in some other way. By the great law
of his kingdom, the agency of man is to be employed in the
accomplishment of his purposes, but your individual agency is not
indispensable.  The services of a minister of the gospel who is
eminently useful, and who is at a time of life, and has a measure
of experience and learning, that seems to fit him for an important
station, can be supplied by some one that God can place in his
stead.  When he is taken away, a mighty chasm indeed seems to
be made; hut his withdrawal soon ceases to be felt, for others
rush in to fill his place: as the surface of the ocean soon becomes
smnooth, and it seems to be as full as it was before, though the
waterspout has lifted up and carries away a portion of the mighty
deep, or the sun has caused it to ascend in vapours; for streams and
rivers all the while pour into that ocean, and keep up a constant
supply.  The man that was so learned and wise that it seemed as
if no one else could supply his place at the head of a college, or so
sagacious and prudent that it seemed as if some vast plan of
benevolence depended on him, is removed; but the chasm is soon
filled up-just as in storming a city, when the leader falls, some
subaltern steps into his place, and leads on the conquest with the
freshness of youth, and with wisdom and valour that had been in
training for this very breach which God foresaw would occur. Let
us not, then, suppose that our services are indispensable to God.
Let us not imagine that he is dependent on us, or is under obligation to us. In the bosom of society, there are undeveloped powers,
which will more than fill our places; in the church, there is piety
maturing which can do more than we can do: and the very
purposes of human advancement cherished in the Divine Mind may
demand our removal.
(b) The religious man will reflect, further, that his best services
do not deserve heaven.  A man who is truly pious, and who has
any proper sense of Iris own imperfections, and of the glory to
-hich he is looking forward, never feels that there is any proportion between the services which he renders to (od here, and the
immortal blessedness to which he hopes to be elevated hereafter.
IHe renders no service to the cause of truth and virtue which in
his own estimation is an equ-ivalent for the rewards which he
trusts are in reserve for him; and after all his toils he feels that




MAN  CANNOT MERIT SALVATION.                    415
those rewards will be not of " debt," but of grace, and that he is
an'C unprofitable servant."  God has taken effectual care of this
in his plan of salvation; and whoever he may be that expects
heaven on the ground of his own merit, it will not be he who
gives evidence that he is truly a devoted and faithful servant
of God.
(c) If, however, at any time this feeling of merit or claim should
arise in the mind of a truly pious man, it is effectually checked by
a moment's reflection on the way in which lie has been disposed to
engage in the service of God at all.  It is not by any native
inclination or tendency of mind; it has been solely by grace.
Whatever service he may render, the origin of it is to be traced
back to that distinguishing mercy which led him to seek after God,
when lie was disposed to pursue his own ways;  which recalled
him, when he was a wretched wanderer from the paths of truth.
and salvation.  The case is like this: —You go into a "market
place," and find a man " idle," and inclined to be idle. You reason
and remonstrate with him, and by persevering entreaty, and the
offer of reward, arouse him from his indolence, and induce him to
spend his time in your service.  Now, however faithful he may
be, or however valuable may be the services which he may render
you, he will never feel that any merit is to he attributed to
himself.  He owes to you his industrious habits, and all which he
can ever secure by his labour.  Or to take a case more in point:You go into a miserable hovel, and find a wretch in the lowest stages
of vice and misery.  He was once a man in heart as well as in
form, but now he has wholly lost the manhood of the one, and
almost of the other.  He is loathsome by vice and disease, and is
a,wretched outcast.  Hle has no wish to be a nman again; he has
no energy to arouse him from his condition; he has no friend to
take him by the hand, or even to pity him in his vices and woes.
You take compassion on him.  You clothe him in decent apparel.
You remonstrate with him on his evil course. You remind him
of what he was, and tell him  of what lie may be still.  You
rekindle lthe dying spark of self-respect; show him that he may
yet forsake the paths of vice and again be respectable;- breathe
into him gradually the wish to be virtuous and pure and happy;
give him a comfortable home to dwell in, and a piece of land to
cultivate as his own. You speak kindly to him when he is
discouraged; shield him when he is tempted by his old companions; offer him  ample rewards for any services which he
may render you,-and he returns to the ways of industry, and
rises to a condition of competency and respectability.  Perchance,
doing this, you have lighted on a "gem of purest ray serene"




41.6             THE WAY OF SALVATION.
in that rubbish, and the unhappy wretch whom  you have
rescued had a genius which takes its place among the brightest
constellations of talent, and its light beams afar on the nations.
Yet how will he feel in these circumstances?  Will he feel that
this is to be traced to his own merit, and that the wealth or honour
which may gather around him  is the measure of his desert?
He will feel that hut for you he would even now have been
occupying that wretched hovel, or more likely would have been
in the drunkard's grave. Whatever he has of moral worth,
influence, or reputation, is to be traced to you. Thus it is with
the Christian; and feeling this, he cannot regard himself as so
profitable to God as to merit the rewards of heaven.
(3.) If it were conceded that the rewards of heaven were a
proper recompense for the religious services which man can render
to God, yet they would not be the suitable reward of those who
are commonly expecting heaven on the ground of their own
merits.  The truly religious man, as we have seen, expects
heaven, not on the ground of his own deserts, but through the
grace of God. We may therefore lay the case of such out of the
question in the inquiry whether men can deserve salvation by
their own merits. The other class, embracing the mass of mankind,
expect to be saved because they deserve to be saved, or, which
amounts to the same thing, because they do not deserve to be
damned. The ground of their claim is not that they are religious
-for that they do not profess to be; and not that they render
such service to the cause of God that the rewards of heaven would
be an equivalent for their services-for they do not profess to be
engaged in his service at all. What, then, is it? It is, that they
are honest, true, faithful to their contracts, honourable in their
dealings, disposed to aid others in their distress, and courteous
in their treatment of their fellow-men.  One who leads such a
life, they suppose, does not deserve to be cast off and made miserable
for ever; or, what is the same thing, they suppose that in all
justice and equity he ought to be made happy in a future statethat is, that he may be saved on the ground of his own merits.
What is now the value of this claim?  With the principles before
us which have been laid down, let us endeavour to answer this
question. The inquiry is, Is heaven the appropriate reward of
such a life?  An illustration or two will make this plainer than
abstract reasoning would do. You hire a man as a day-labourer.
He comes to you at night for his pay. If he has been industrious
according to the contract, and faithful to your interests, the case
is a plain one, and you do not hesitate.  But you put the interrogatory to him, " Did you go into my vineyard, and spend the




MAN  CANNOT MERIT SALVATION.                    417
day in cultivating it for me, and in a careful regard to my
interests "   " No,"  is the honest reply; " but I have spent the
day diligently.  I have not been an idle man.  I have attended
to,thle cultivation of my own vineyard, and been faithful to my
family, and I may appeal to all my neighbours for my general
courtesy and honesty of life."  If you now say that this is a case
wAilich is so palpably absurd that it never could occur, it may be
replied, that it has been made absurd on purpose.  Such a man
would be only speaking out in the honesty of his heart what is
the secret claim of every one who is not engaged in the service
of God an d who yet feels that he ought to be saved.  He does
not even profess to be attending to the interests of his Creator, or
engaged in his service.-You send a clerk to some distant town
to collect your debts.  He returns.  "Have you been diligent
and successful in the duty assigned you?"' I was diligent.  I
travelled much.  In all my journey I injured no one; I treated
no one roughly; I addressed no one in any other manner thaw in
tile language recuired in refined life.  I also accquirec valuable
lands for myself, and have a prospect of rising to affluence and
respectability."  " But what has this to do with the reward which
would be appropriate for one employed in my service?"   Nothing,"
a child would reply.  But has it not just as much to do with it
as the claim of a man who does not profess to serve his 3laker,
and who lives only to regard his own interests, has to do with
the rewards of heaven?-You have a servant or an apprentice,
whom you have a right to punish if he does wrong.  You enjoin
on him a specific duty — a duty of much importance to yourself,
and one that is clearly reasonable in its nature.  At the proper
time you call him  to account.  The duty is not discharged;
the service is not rendered.  He pleads, however, that he does
not deserve punishmlent.  He has been steadily engaged all the
while; he has been entirely honest and upright in his dealings
with his fellow-servants; he has treated them  with perfect
courtesy, and has even acquired an enviable reputation for amiableness of manners; nay, he has more than once relieved a fellowservant that was poor and sick and dying.  All this is very well,
it would be said in reply, but how can this constitute a claim for
the particular reward which was offered?  How can it show that
lie who has wholly omitted a known and specific duty does not
deserve the punishment which was threatened?  With what face
could such a servant claim the reward due to faithful service in
the cause of his master?
These plain and obvious principles are as applicable to religion
as they are to the common transactions of life.  God requires of




418              THE  TWAY  OF SALVATION.
us a specific service.  It is not general and indefinite, or left to
our choice as to what it shall be.  It is, that we shall serve him;
that we shall obey his commands; that we shall seek his glory;
that we shall love him, honour him, and treat him  as our God;
that we shall be penitent for our past sins, and be willing to
accept his favour on his own terms; that we shall be serious,
religious, prayerful, believing, holy.  If this is done, he promises
heaven.  But it is not done.  Those now referred to do not even
lay claim to any of these things.  One of the last things that they
would claim, or that their friends would think of claiming for
them, is, that they are religious, or that they act habitually from
reference to the will of their Creator. They claim to be moral,
honest, true, urbane, kind; but how can this lay the foundation
of a claim to the appropriate rewards of piety?  How in these
things, when they do not even intend it, can they render any
service to God which would be the proper basis of his rewarding
them in heaven?  No more than the day-labourer, the clerk, and
the  servant, carefully  attentive  to  their own  interests, but
wholly regardless of the interests of their employer, can expect
a reward.
Having thus stated these arguments to show that man cannot
by any services which he can render make himself so profitable to
God as to merit salvation, or be of so much advantage to His cause
as to render an equivalent for the rewards of heaven, it remains
only to remark,
(4.) That if he cannot do this by a life of obedient holiness, he
cannot by any offering which he has it in his power to make.
The reasons for this are so obvious as to make it needless to dwell
on them.  One is, that no offering which we can make can be of
any advantage or profit to God.  He is made no richer by any
oblation of silver and gold which we can bring him; he has no
unsatisfied wants which can be supplied by our ministrations?
If I were hungry,' says he, "I would not tell thee; for the
world is mine and the fulness thereof. Will I eat the flesh of
bulls, or drink the blood of goats?" Psa. 1. 12, 13. Another reason
is, that all that we possess is his, and we can give to him nothing
to which he has not already a prior and supreme right.  " Every
beast of the forest," says he,   is mine, and the cattle upon a
thousand hills.  I know all the fowls of the mountains, and the
wild beasts of the field are mine," Psa. 1. 10, 11. Another reason
is, that nothing that we could offer would be a compensation for
our past offences, or repair the evils which we have done by our
neglect of duty and by our open sins.  " Wherewith shall I come
before the Lord, and bow myself before the high God?  Shall I




MAN  CANNOT MERIT SALVATION.                     419
come before him with burnt-offerings, with calves of a year old?
Will the Lord be pleased with thousands of rams, or with ten
thousands of rivers of oil? shall I give my first-born for my transgression, the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul?" Micah
vi. 6, 7. And how shall a man profit God; how lay him under
obligation to save him; how render such service as to be an
equivalent for heaven?  Shall he flagellate his own body?  Yet
hlow will that profit God?  Shall he gird sackcloth on his loins,
or wear an irritating haircloth garment to torment himself?  Yet
how will that benefit his  Aaker?  Shall he go on a pilgrimage
to some distant shrine?  How will his Maker be advantaged by
that?  Shall he shut himself up in a gloomy cell, and withdraw
from the light of the sun and the moon and the stars, and from
the society of living men, and doom himself to wretchedness and
woe?  But will his God be made more rich or more happy by his
austerities?  Shall he seize upon the objects dearest to his heart,
and destroy before bloody altars the lives which his Creator has
given?  But will it profit God if we kill his own creatures, and
pour out their blood before him?  If none of these things will
do, with what plea of merit can we come before him?  How can
we render such service as to have a claim on heaven?
In view of this train of thought, two additional observations
may be made:(1.) We see the falsehood of that system of religion which speaks
of human merit, of the treasured and garnered merits of the saints
of former times.  If the principles now suggested are correct, how
can there have been any such extraordinary and superabounding
merit in past times that it may be available now for men? If there
were such treasured merit left by the saints of other days, it
might still be a question what claim of right any man has now to
distribute it to others; but any such claim  of superabounding
merit is alike at variance'with the Bible and with every just
principle of reason.  Yet this doctrine is one of the principal
supports of the Papacy, and is one of the dogmas that demand
credence in our land and of this generation.  It will be shown,
hereafter, that in Him who died to atone for our sins there is ample
merit to supply all our deficiencies, and that the results of his
atonement may be ours. The claim  tlat superabounding merit
has been wrought out by the saints, derogates from  and almost
annihilates this; and the claim  that his merits and theirs are
lodged in human hands, to be dispensed or withheld at pleasure
by a priesthood, is one of the chief supports of the most appalling
and terrific systems of spiritual despotism that have ever tyrannized
over man. Thanks to Him who has boought us our pardon-the




420               THE WAY  OF SALVATION.
disposal of the merits of his sacrifice is committed to no human
hands; and can be interrupted by no human power!
(2.) This subject is one of direct practical interest to all. If
we are ever saved, there will be a good reason for it; for nothing
is merely arbitrary in the matter of salvation.  There are but
two ways possible of being saved-the one by our own merits,
the other by the merits of another.  If in regard to the latter
there are no merits of the " saints" on which we can rely; no
merits of parents or pious friends of which we can avail ourselves,
then the merits of the Lord Jesus constitute the only fbreign
dependence which we can have.  The whole question is then just
this:-Do we rely on our own merits for salvation, or the merits
of the Redeemer?  Here the world is divided; the Christian, on
the one side-the Pagan, the Mohammedan, the infidel, the moralist,
on the other.  This single question separates the inhabitants of
the globe into two great lparties never to be united.  But if the
principles in this discourse are correct, the question may be put
to every man-to his reason, his conscience, his heart-whether he
has any merit on which he can rely as a ground of salvation.
Has he done anything for which the equivalent is to be found in
the rewards of an eternal heaven? Has he so deserved the rewards
of life, has he rendered such service to his Maker, that he can
stand at the final bar, where we all must soon stand, and claim
an admission to heaven?  Can he demand it as a riglht that
heaven's portal should be thrown open to him, and he be welcomed
there?  If so, on what ground?  What is the basis of the claim?
Religion?  The unconverted sinner makes no pretension to it.
Repentance?  He has never shed a tear over his sins.  The love
of God?  He has no spark of love to that glorious Being in his
heart.  Sacrifices in his service?  He has made none. An honest
endeavour to do his will?  He has never made this the rule of
his life.  What is the service which he has irendered?  What has
been the life which he has led?  What is the state of his account
with God?  What is the condition of his heart?  Oh, let him
look at the broken law of God, His violated sabbaths, HIis rejected
gospel, His grieved Spirit, His neglected word; let him  look at
his own life of thoughtlessness, selfishness, and vanity, his neglect
of prayer, his pride and opposition to God; let him  look at the
sins of childhood and the worldliness and wickedness of riper
years; let him  look at the times when God las called and he
has refused, when the Saviour has stretched out his hands and he
would not regard it; let him look at his broken vows and promises-the times when le resolved that he would be a Christian
if he reached a certain period of life, the solemn covenant which




MAN CANNOT MERIT SALVATION.                  421
he made when he was sick, that if God would spare him he would
be His;-let him look at these things, and then see whether he
has a claim to an admission to heaven, and whether he can be
received there because he has been profitable to God. Oh, if you
saw these things aright, you would hail with transports of unspeakable joy the announcement which we make to you, that
there is One whose merits c ca cancel all your sins, and give you
a title to salvation. Then, oh! with what joy would you, as
thousands have done before you, cast away the " rags of your own
righteousness," that you might be clothed in the robe that is
" made white in the blood of the Lamb! "




SERMON XXXIII.
WHAT IS MEANT BY THE  TMERITS OF CHRIST.
JOHN i. 16.-" And of his fulness have all we received, and grace for grace."
THAT is, all we who are Christians, or who are Christ's real
followers.  In the fourteenth verse of this chapter it is said of
the Lord Jesus, that he was "full of grace and truth."  In the
Epistle to the Colossians (ch. i. 19), the apostle Paul says of him
that " it pleased the Father that il him should all fulness dwell:"
that is, with particular reference to the salvation of men, for he
immediately adds (ver. 20), " And having made peace through the
blood of his cross, by him  to reconcile all things unto himself."
These expressions all refer to an abunct1ece or ftlness of grace
in the Lord Jesus as sufficient for all that would be saved by
him, or such as would supply all their want of personal merit
when they appear before God; and as there is in us a total want
of merit towards God, the sense of the whole must be, that we
can be saved only by the merits of Christ.  I propose to endeavour to explain what that merit is.
In  the previous discourses on the subject of justification, I
have endeavoured. to demonstrate that muan cannot justify himself before God.  In the last discourse I aimed to prove that
man has no merit of his own on which lie can rely for salvation,
or that he can do nothing- which will make eternal life a fair
equivalent or compensation for his service, or which will bring
the Almighty under an obligation of justice or equity to save
him.  I propose now to show that there is One who hias ample
merit which can supply all our defect, and which may be so
available to us as to secure our salvation.
There are few phrases in more common use than the merits of
Christ; few  declarations that are repeated more frequently by
ministers of the gospel and others, than that men can be saved
only by THis merits; and few  things that mare more freqiuently
uttered in prayer than tlat ve plead Iis merits only for our
salvation.  The frequency with V hich this expression  occurs,
and the bearing which it has on the general subject now under
consideration, makes it proper that  we shaould attempt an explanation of it.  Common        as the use of it is, a formal attempt




~VIIAT IS MEANT BY THE  IMERITS OF CHRIST.   423
to explain it is not often made, and it is to be feared that it is
often used without an intelligent apprehension of its meaning.
The phrase does not occur in the Bible, but the idea which is
intended to be conveyed by it exists there as a vital and central
thought in the whole plan of justification by faith.  In the prosecution of this subject it will be proper, I. To explain what is
meant when we speak of the merits of Christ; and,. I. To show
in what his merits consisted..I. What is meant by the -merits of Christ?  The. general idea
is expressed in the text:-" And of his fulness have all we
received, and grace for grace."  There was an abundacnce or
fiulness in him of which we might partake; that is, there was a
completeness7-X,?oipwta —whicl in our conscious want or deficiency, could meet all our necessities, so that we could receive' grace" corresponding with that which was in him.  When we
speak of the merits of Christ in connexion with our salvation, it
is meant that there was an amount of merit in his services
which he did not need for any perlsonal advantage or for himself; whlich had been secured with a special purpose to supply
the great and undisputed deficiency of man; and which can be
made available to us, on certain conditions, and in the way
which God has revealed as the ground of our acceptance.  The
main object is not now  to prove tha.t there are such merits
treasured up in Christ, but to explain the language.  Whether
the doctrine be true, and if there is such merit in him  how it
may be available to us, will be the topics of future inquiry.
(1.) In the explanation of the subject I would then advert,
first, to the doctrine respecting, merit laid down in the last discourse.  A  man merits a reward when he has earned or deserved it; when he has fully complied with the terms of the
bargain; when his services are worth as much to you as you
pay hinm.  We may recall the illustrations of the day-labourer,
the soldier, the  physician, in each of which cases it was said
that the service rendered was fully equal in value to the pay
which was given. The service measures the pay; the one is equal,
or is supposed to be equal, to the other.  To withhold the compensation is injustice, or is palpably -wrong1. This is the ordinary
and proper sense in which the word merit is used among men,
and it was in this sense that I endeavoured to show that m':n
cannot merit salvation.
(2.) I observe, secondly, that cases may arise where much more
may be done for you than one who is in your employ is strictly
bound to perform. A reference to some of these cases will enable
us to explain  the subject before us.
28'




4241              THE WAY OF SALVATION.
(a) You have a man; in your employ engaged under the ordinary conditions of service as a labourer, or clerk.  Without any
special agreement with him, or without anything being said
about it in your contract, he is to do what is commonly understood to be required in that condition of life; what is usually
done by those in the same employment.  He is to be at his post
at a certain hour in the morning, and to remain until a certain
hour in the evening, and is to be faithful to his employer's
interests, and diligent in the prosecution of the business entrusted
to him.  On these conditions, without anything more specific,
the contract is usually made with clerks, and bookkeepers, and
day-labourers, and journeymen-mechanics, and lawyers, and
ministers of the gospel.  It is not deemed necessary to be any
more specific than that they shall be fa.ithful to the interests of
their employers, and render the amount of service which is
usually expected in their occupation.  But it is very possible
to conceive that one may go much beyond that.  He may be
engaged at a much earlier hour than is usual, and may prolong
his toils far into the shades of night. Ile may evince uncommon
tact and sagacity in the management of affairs entrusted to him,
and such may be his skill and success, that his services may
have a value far beyond anything.which you had anticipated
in the contract.  You would not feel yourself at liberty to turn
him off or to complain if he had not done this.  You would not
feel that he has a leg'al claim on you for anything more than
you promised to pay him, for vou did not contract wTith him for
this special service; but you would be likely to feel that he has a
claim  of honour on you, and if, when he leaves your service,
you know  of any situation of special advantage that can be
obtained, you would feel yourself under a sort of moral obligation to endeavour to secure it for him. Here is something
merited, since more has been done than he was bound to do.
(b) A second case:-A  man in your employ may be placed in
circumstances where he may have an opportunity of doing something for your special advantage, though of a nature which was
not distinctly specified in your contract with him.  He may
have great sagacity, and may watch the changes and chances in
the market, and enable you to make important and advantageous
purchases; he may be in possession of intelligence respecting
coming changes in the markets, which may be of great service
to you; or he may, by uncommon tact in business, be enabled to
save -you from  inextricable bankruptcy. Now if he is a mere
bookkeeper, or salesman, you could hardly clani as a matter of
right that he should bring his sagacity in these things into your




WHVIAT IS MEANT BY TIE MERITS OF CHR,[ST.   425
service; perhaps you would hardly blame him  if he took advantage of it to advance his own interests, provided he did not
illjure youl. His specific busiless is to keep your books correctly,
or to sell your goods in the manner in which you shall direct
him, and his sagacity and tact in these departments you have a
right to require should be employed in your service.  But your
contract and your clainm extend no farther.  Yet if he chooses to
go beyondl this, and actually, while lie incurs no possible risk,
is the means of great advantage to you, as an honourable man
you would feel that lhe deserved an appropriate acknlowledgment.
Many instances of this kind might be referred to, but these will
illustrate tile point under consideration.
(3.) It is necessary to make but one other remark in order to
see the bearing of these illustrations on the case before us.
Reference has been mnade to " abounldilg  nerit;" to cases in
which service is rendered beyonld what was in the contract; to
that which was wvholly voluntary, and yet where there would
be a claim  in h.onouro at least for a suitable acknowlecdgment,
or whlere an honourable man would feel himself under obligation
to bestow a reward.  The remark which is now to be made is,
that hie who has this extra claim on you may do what he pleases
with the rew-ard which you may feel willingl to give.  It may
not be needful for him, or he may not choose to make use of it
for hilmself; but lhe may be disposed to make another use of it
which will develope some trait of mind that will by no means
diiminish your respect for his character.  Suppose some such
cases as the following in the application of the instances referred
to — tllat lie should ask you to aid a younger brother of his
who was just beginning business, and who was greatly in need
of credit; or, in the event of his death, to show  kindness to
his  aged  father or mother; or to  appropriate the  gratuity
which you designed for him to some young man who was struggling' to obtain  an education.  Or suppose  that the faithful
servant should ask you  to release fromn  bondage his wife or
child, in consideration of the extra and quite equivalent services
which he had rendered to you.  Or to take ainother case:Suppose a friend of his had, in an unhappy moment, defrauded
you, might he not ask you to "set that to his account?"  In
either case, would you not feel that what he asked he had a
right to ask?  And would you not be the more deeply affected
with respect for his character by this request?  He did not
perform  the extra  service  for reward.  He  did  not expect
it.  He did not mention.it to you.  He did not claimi aGnll
reward.  But when you felt that he had  a claiml to it, and




6426              THE WAY  OF SALVATION.
pressed it upon himl and would not be refused, he looked not
for gorg'eous or gay apparel for himself, or for a purse of gold,
or a splendid house, nor did he ask you to trumpet his fame;
but he looked round on those struggling with poverty, crushed
alnd enfeebled by age, bound in affliction and iron, or burdened
with debts which they could never discharge, and asked you to
forget him and to remember them.  The developments of such a
character would fill your mind with new  conceptions of its
beauty, and your heart would be insensibly knit with his.
It will be perceived that these illustrations bear on the explanation of what is meant by the merits of Christ.  His merit
was of this extraordinary or superabundant kind. It was beyond
what could have been demanded of him, and was such that, if
he chose to ask it, or so designed it, it could be made available
to others.  This leads us to the second general inquiryII. In wheat did Hiis merits consist?  Keeping in view  the
remarks already made, it will be necessary to show that all that
le did when on earth was of this extraordinary character; that
he rendered real service to the universe fr which the rewards
given him  will be no imore than an equivalent; and that his
merits were of such a nature that they may be made available
to others.
(1.) All that he did was of an extraordinary character, or was
service which could not have been demanded of him.  This
remalrk is based on the fact that he was Divine, and has no
pertinency except on that supposition.  When it is said that
his service or work was such as could not be demanded, it is
meant that there was no law or obligation which could bind tlhe
Divinity to become incarnate, to be an humble teacher of nmankind, to minister to their wants with his own hands, or to make
an atonement for their transgressions.  The entire transaction
was of a ]ind which could be enforced by no law.  If he was
equal to the Father and one with him, he was under no law
but the infinite and eternal law of lis own Divine nature. There
was no obligation on him  to become a man, a priest, a sacrifice;
to toil, to weep, to cie.-Another illustration nmav be introduced
here.  There is an heir-apparent to a crown.  Every consideration of propriety, (and perhaps a statute-law of the realm,) requires
him to perform the duties of a son in the palace, and to appear
and act on all occasions as becomes the first man in the realm
next to the throne.  But there is no law which requires him to
become a day-labourer, or a menial, or that umakes it his duty
to go into some peasant's cottage and watch the long night by
the cradle of a dying child.  There may possibly be no law




WTtIIT IS MEIANT BY THE MERITS OF CHRIST.   427
against it, if he chooses to do it; but it cannot be demanded of
him.  The Son of God in heaven would appear there always in
a manner appropriate to his unequalled relation to. the Father;
but what law was there requiring him  to come down to earth,
to be a man of sorrows, to tlake part in our sadnesses and woes,
and to die?  If he did this, the service was altogether of an
extraordinary character, and was entirely a work of merit. This
remark is obvious.  Its bearings, if conceded to be true, are of
great importance.  The force and pertinence of this reasoning,
as has been already remarked, proceeds on the supposition that
lhe is Divine.  If lie is not, however exalted as a created being
he may be, it does not appear how he could have anyC extra
merit, and consequently how the doctrine of justification by his
righteousness could be held.  If Christ be a mere man, or an angel,
or an archangel, or creature of any rank, no such extraordinary
service could be rendered-none could be made available to us.
We have seen that man may acquire extra merit from  his
fellow-man, merit which may be made available to others. The
question is, why a creature may not do this in reference to the
service of God; and why, if the Saviour were less than Divine,
he might not do the same thing for us?  The answer to this
question is obvious.  WThen you employ a man, you contract for
a certain amount of service or of time.  You do not contract
for all that he has.  You contract for what is usual, or what
you specify.  All beyond the limits of that contract remains his.
But there is no such contract, understanding, or stipulation,
expressed or understood, between a creature and God. All a man's
powers, his time, his talents, his service, his skill, his learning,
his influence, belong to his Maker. Of every creature God demands
" all the heart, the mind, the might, the strength."  There is
not a moment of time in which a creature can feel that he is
released from the claim of his Maker; there is not a power or
faculty of miind or body which he possesses which is beyond the
range of the demand of the Divine law; there is not a service of
prayer, or praise, or sacrifice which he could render, which is
beyond the limits of his duty; there is not an act of benevolence
to the poor, the needy, the sinful, or the dying, which he can
perform, which is beyond the all-comprehensive grasp of the
Divine command to do good.  Can a creature of the Almighty
put himself into the midst of a service acceptable to God which
he may feel was not required of him P  Can he love with an
ardour beyond what God requires?  Can he maintain a degree
of fidelity in temptation beyond what is demanded?' Can he
stoop to some scene of woe, and do good to a sufferer in a way




428               THE WAY OF SALVATION.
which the law that binds him to God did not make his duty?
Can he evince compassion for the sinful and the sad beyond
what the law of his nature and the commandment of his Maker
demand?  If he cannot, how  can there be such extra merit
that it can be made available to others?  And if the Lord Jesus
were a mere man, as one class of Socinians tells us; or an angel
of exalted rank, as another class assures us; or the highest
created intelligence, as the Arian affirms,-how could he have
wrought out any merit which can be available to us? I-ow could
he have done anything beyond what he was bound as a creature
to do?  How could he so have stepped beyond the limits of the
Divine law as by abounding merits to save a world?  It is difficult to see, therefore, how he who denies the Divinity of the
Lord Jesus can hold to the doctrine of a meritorious sacrifice on
his part, or to the doctrine of justification through his merits at
all: and there is a melancholy consistency in the philosophy
and practical faith of those who deny his Divinity, in yielding
up the doctrine of the atonement, and then the whole doctrine
of justification by faith.  But admit that Christ is God, equal with
the Father, and all is clear.  Then, being under no obligations
to become incarnate, being bound by no law to leave the throne
of heaven, and seek a home in a manger, a lodging-place without a pillow, a death on a cross, and a burial in the grave
destined for another, all this is the workt of extra merit, and
may all be available for others.  We see him in our world, not
as a mere man, and thus bound by law to render every service
to the cause of God; but as Ihnmanuel-God with us-the voluntary messenger from heaven-the equal with God-performing a
service to which no law  bound him, and to which no other
powers were adequate, and which therefore may constitute a
fulness of merit that may be available for those who have
none.
(2.) The second remark is, that Christ rendered real service to
the universe by his work.  His coming, his teaching, his death,
his resurrection, were an advantage to the cause of God and of
virtue, to the full extent of the reward which he will receive.
The universe has been so much profited by his voluntary and
wonderful service in the cause of virtue and salvation, that there
is a propriety that he should be rewarded for it; and the reward
which he will receive is no more than an equivalent for the
value of the service rendered.  It will be asked, What has been
the advantage of his work to the universe?  In what way is it
to be measured or estimated?  It may be replied, We do not
know fully yet, nor are our minds in a condition now, if they




WIHAT IS MEANT BY THE MERITS OF CIRIST.   429
will ever be, to estimate what is appropriate to "satisfy" him
for the " travail of his soul."  But the general answer, whoever
can appreciate its meaning, will be, that the value or worth of
his voluntary services is to be estimated by all the evils which
his coming has arrested or prevented, and by all the happiness in
this world and in heaven of which it has been the cause. If we
could ascertain this, we could estimate the amount of his services
to the universe, and of course the amount of the reward which
is due to him, or the amount of his merit. No attempt can be
made by us to gauge the amount of this merit. All that can be
done is to submit a few hints to illustrate the real nature of the
service which he rendered.
(a) He did voluntary good through his life. He healed the
sick, gave sight to the blind, hearing to the deaf, and vigour to
the lame; he restored the maniac to his right mind, and brought
back the poor outcast who " dwelt among the tombs" to the
comforts of home. All this was doing good to the world, which,
if he had not come, would not have been done.
(b) He set a most holy example of virtue to mankind.  He
showed what true virtue is-how man should live, and how he
should meet the temptations of the great enemy of the soul.
All this is so much gained to the cause of virtue, above what
would have been if he had not come; and the value of having
one perfect example in a world where there had been no such
standard, and amidst the conflicting opinions of men on the
subject of morals, cannot be estimated.
(c) I-He taught man by his example how to bear trials. He
himself went through all the usual forms of woe and grief, and
showed in each one of them how man ought to endure calamities, and how in them  consolation might be found. But who
in a suffering and dying world can estimate the value of such
an example?
(d) He taught man the true character of God; the nature of
his law; the kind of worship that would be acceptable to him,
and the way in which the throne of mercy may be approached.
But who can estimate the value to a sinful world of the knowledge of the way of pardon?
(e) He introduced a religion which has contributed everywhere
to the promotion of industry, purity, chastity, truth, honesty,
intelligence, and liberty; which has raised one sex from  the
deepest degradation, and softened the asperities and removed
the tyranny of the other; which has led to the founding of
hospitals and asylums, and which will ultimately put an end to
all the forms of evil and vice that tyrannize over man: —and




43.0               I'l JIE WAY  OF  SALVATION.
vwho can gaug'e the amount of service which Hle has thus rendered to man and to the universe?
(f) He made an atonement for sin-his greatest, noblest.
work.  He vindicated by his death the honour and the law of
God, and solved the question which has everywhere confounded
the human intellect, how  justice and mercy can meet togetler,
and how righteousness can be maintained, and yet the sinner -o
free.  He secured to the universe by his death all the advantag'es
which could have been secured by the everlasting punishment oc
the sinner himself, and all the advantag'es which now  result
from  admittingl to heaven countless millions who but for his
sacrifice would have been eternally wretched:-and what finite
mind can  estimate the value of Hl is service rendered to the
universe?
(g) He checks evil by his gospel and his grace, and turns the
disobedient to the paths of virtue.  Take one single example
as an illustration of the amount of service thus rendered,-the
case of Saul of Tarsus.  Think of what he would have been witl
his extraordinary talents, his uncommon learning, his vast energy
of character, and his restless ambition, and his proud and selfconfident heart, if there had been no atonement; and then of
what he was after he was converted to the cause of truth.
Think of his influence, while he lived, in meeting the evils and
corruptions of idolatry; in closing temples of polluted worship;
in purifyiing thle fountains orf morals; and in diffusi-ng abroad
the principles of pure religioin.  Think of the good which has
been done since his time, by his incomlparable writings, in maintaining the truth, and impartingl consolation in a, orlld of sorrow:
and see in the consversion of that' man  an instance of the kind of
service which tlie Lord Jesus rendered to the universe.  Then
reflect that the case of Saul of'Tarsus is but one of many hundreds of millions  ildividuclly less bright, but in the agg'regate
outshining  his.-as the mingled light of the galaxy is of greater
glory than the twinktliln  of a single star,-and then ask, Who
can estimate the amtount, of service which the Son of God has
rendered to tihe universes    All that has been done by His holy
life and example; all ti.t has been accomplished on earth by
the influence of His reli gi on; all that His death did t-o honour
the Divine law; all that has been or will be done by arresting evil
and staying the desolationsl of sin; all the additions which have
been or will be made by redemption to the numbers of the
heavenly host; and all the immortal songs and joys of the redeemed in heaven, —all these things are to be taken into this estimate, and will be the measure of the voluntary service rendered




XWHAT IS M1 EANT 1BY THE MAER:ITS OF CHRIST.    431
to the universe by the Son of God.  It remains only, in order to
a complete explanation of the subject, to add(3.) That all the merit of Christ's work-all the reward which
he deserved-is available to others.  It is that superaboundiing
service which! has been before referred to, which can be appropriated in ainy way thalt he shall ask.  Not needing it for himself, for he dw ells in " the glory which he had with the Father
before  the t world w's," it can be appropriated to those who are
poor, andc needy, and destitute of any claim of merit. The reward
for all his extraordinary services may be such as he shall wish,
and his heart wiill i;ot askc alugmented glory for himself in heaven
as ])ivine, but will seek it in the elevation and immortal felicity
of the poor and lost upon the earth for whom  he died.  By such
a reward the universe will lose nothing', but will on every account
be a gainer; and the benevolent heart which rendered these extraordinary services may be abundantly satisfied by asking that
the " lost may be saved."  It was on grounds like these that it
was said in the promise, " Ask of me, and I shall give thee the
heathen for thine inheritance, and the uttermost parts of the
earth for thy possession," Psa. ii. 8.  Thus too the promise was,
" He shall see of the travail of his soul"-the fruit of his wearisome sorrow-" and shall be satisfied," Isa. liii. 11. Thus too, in
asking in his parting prayer that his work on earth might be
remenibered, hle could use with propriety the strong language,
" Father, I will  th they also whom  thou hast given me be
with me where I am,- that they may behold my glory which
thou hast given me," John xvii. 24.  To secure their salvation,
and the universal spread of his gospel, he can urge the extraordinary claim of the service which he has rendered by his life
of spotless virtue; his pure example; his relief of human woes;
and the sorrows which he voluntarily endured in order that the
law  of God might' be maintained, and eternal justice asserted,
even when salvation was offered to men.
If these views a're correct, then it follows,
(1.) That v.e are to look nowhere else than to Christ as the
meritorious cause of salvation.  Had it been possible for any
mere created being- to have wrought out suffient merit to save
the soul, the incarnation of the Son of God, and his death on
Calvary, would lnever have occurred.  The moment it is maintained that man mally merit salvation for himself, or for others,
the doctrine of the atonement is denied, and the work of Christ
dishonoured; and the doctrine that there are anywhere, or in
any hands, garnered up the merits of holy men of which we can
avail ourselves, derogaates, to just the extent in which it is held,




432'THIE WAY  OF SALVATION.
from  the Great Sacrifice, and is an attack on the fundamental
doctrines of the gospel. In our hopes of salvation we have but
one place to which to look.  It is not what our own hands have
done, or what has been done by holy men of other times; it is
the infinite merit of the Son of God.
(2.) The merits of the Saviour are sufficient for the salvation
of all mankind.  If the view which has been taken is correct, it
is clear that the benefits which he has rendered to the universe,
by his holy obedience and death, are commensurate with any
rewards which he may receive in connexion with the salvation
of men.  " It pleased the Father that in him," in every respect,
"should all fulness dwell;" and alike in his power, his benevolence, his willingness to save, and the merits of his work,
there is an ample sufficiency for the wants of all mankind.
Needing none of the results of his great work on earth for the
promotion of his own happiness, all that he did may be made
available to others, and all men may come with equal freeness
and confidence.  HIe had the promise of an ample and satisfactory reward, when it was said that he "should see of the
travail of his soul, and should be satisfied;" and on the basis of
that promise he himself uses such language as this: " If any man
thirst, let him  come unto me and drink."  " Come unto me, all
ye that are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest;"
and "whosoever will, let him come and take the water of life
freely."  There was no original deficiency in the merits of the
Saviour for human salvation, nor has his merit been exhausted
by the numbers that have already been saved.  Salvation in him
is like a copious fountain breaking out in a desert.  Such a
fountain is free for all who may come.  It stands in the pathway where the multitudes move, where the caravans pass along
-and no one has a right to appropriate it exclusively to himself.
No tribe of men may enclose it, or may obstruct its waters. One
company of weary travellers has as much right there as another,
and to no one partieularly appertains the office of dispensing
it to the fainting pilgrim.  Any one who will come and kneel
down there, may drink freely.  And it will never be exhausted.
The fountain will pour out its waters from age to age. The present company of thirsty travellers will soon pass on.  They will
pursue their journey, and go off to die; but there the stream will
flow on, unexhausted and inexhaustible, to the end of time. So
it is with the fountain of salvation.  As many of the present
generation as choose may come and partake, and then as many
of the next and the next, and still the fountain will flow on,
unexhausted and inexhaustible.  It will flow just as fresh and




WHEAT IS MEANT BY THlE MERITS OF CHRIST.   433
just as full in the last generation that lives, as it did in the days
of the Saviour's personal residence on earth-as it does now;
and the last sinner that is to be saved will find it as pure and
as life-giving to his soul as it is to ours.
(3.) Finally, let no one then say that he is so great a sinner
that he cannot be saved. I know how the troubled sinner feels.
I know  that his guilt often presses him  down as a mighty
burden, and that he feels he has no claim  to salvation.  We
do not ask you to come depending on your own merits.  We
believe that you never will find eternal life, if you make your
own deeds your plea.  But the sinner sometimes has another
feeling. He not only feels that he has no merit and no claim
to salvation, but he feels that his sins are so great that not even
the merit of the Lord Jesus will be sufficient to cancel his guilt.
Here, fellow-sinner, you err.  Here you do injustice to his holy
life, to his benevolent heart, to his death.  That infinite merit
which he secured by his work on earth, he is willing should be
available for your salvation. And that is like the illimitable
ocean. It is always full; and no matter how many have sought
and found salvation there, there will be countless millions more.
Come, then, thou who art conscious that thou hast no merit of
thine own, and be one of that blessed number who receive of his
fulness, grace for grace.  " Ho, every one that thirsteth, cole
ye to the waters, and he that hath no money; come ye, buy and
eat; yea, come, buy wine and milk without money and without
price," Isa. lv. 1.




SERIMON XXXIV.
IN WHAT SENSE WE ARE JUSTIFIED  BY THE MIERITS OF
CHRIST.
ROM. iii. 24. —" Being justified freely by his grace, through the redemption
that is in Christ Jesus."
TIHERn   are several things affirmed in this text.  One is, that the
persons referred to-that is, Christians-are justified, or that there
is a sense in which they are regarded as righteous.  A second is,
that this is donefreely —wpeav: that is, that it is not by purchase
or merit on our part, but that it has on the part of God theJfreeness
of a gift.  A third is, that it is by the grace of God; that is, that
it is regarded as a proof of his favour to be justified.  A fourth
is, that this is through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus, or
is in virtue of his merits.
In the previous discourses, I have endeavoured to show that
man cannot justify himself, and that he has no claim  of merit
before God; but that there is in the Lord Jesus infinite merit, of
such a nature that it may be made available to us. In the prosecution of this general subject, it is proposed now  to illustrate
two points:-I. What is meant by justification in the gospel; and,
II. In what way we are justified by the merits of Christ.
I. What is meant by justification in the gospel?  My object
here is to state what is the exact condition of a man who is
justified.  In what respect does he differ from what he was before?
What change has taken place in reference to him?  How is he
regarded by his Maker differently from  what he was before?
What new relation does he sustain to God, to his law, and to his
plan of providential dealings?  These, it will be seen, are important questions, which probably every one is disposed to ask who
attentively considers this subject.  They are questions, also, on
which serious mistakes are sometimes made, as well by those who
attempt to explain the subject, as by individual Christians in
reflecting on this new relation.  A few remarks, showing what is
not meant, and what is, will make the subject clear.
(1.) It is not meant that a man who is justified on the gospelplan is justified in a leqal sense.  What it is to be so justified has
been before explained. It. is when a man is accused of a crime,




JUSTIFIC ATION BY TlE AMERITS OF CHRIST.    435
and is able to vindicate himself, either by showing that he did not
do the act chlarged on lhin, or that he haad a right to do it.  If he
can do either of these things, or, whlich is the same thing, if the
charge is not proved against him, he is acquitted by the law, or
is held to be righteous in regard to the ofelnce charged.  I have
endeavoured, in the former discourses, to show tlhat in a legal sense
nlan cannot be justified before God; and whatever may be thought
of tlhe arlgument in the case, it is certain that this is not the kind of
justification described in the gospel.  It is needful here to remark
only, that Christ did not come to aid man in justifying himself
in this sense.  He did not come to take tlec part of the sinner
against God, and to enable him  to make out his cause.  He did
not come to be his advocate in the sense of assisting' him  in
rebutting  the charges made against hinm; in showing that the
charges had been falsely laid; in explainingo his conduct so that it
night not appear to be wrong; or in oifering palliations fbr
admitted. criminality.  Whatever be the nature of the work which
the Lord Jesus came to perform, and however he may aid us in
our salvation, it is all done with the concession, on his part, that
we are guilty to the full extent which tlhe law cnharges on us.
(2.) It is not in any proper sense a leal7 transaction.  Justification by the law  is known  only in one way-by perfect and
~uniform  obedience.  The law  of God, in  conformity with the
general principle of law, knows no other mode.  It makes no
provision for the pardon or justification of those who violate it,
any more than a human law  does.  The plan of justification in.
the gospel is a departure from  the regular process of law; and
whatever inferences may follow  frorl  this, either against the
system  or in favour of it, the fact is not to be denied.   1.But
now," says the apostle Paul, "the righteousness of God without
tlhe law is manifested;" that is, the method of justification in a
wayr different from  that knownl in the law, ltom. iii. 21.  Alt
atttempts to show  that the plan of justification in tlhe gospel is a
legal transaction, or is in accordance with legal p'iriciples, have
been signal failures; and if there casl be lno other justification thlan
that which is properly legal, the wlhole effort to be saved must
be given up in despair.
(3.) Nor does it mean that the man who is justified ceases to be
ill-deserving or guilty in the proper sense of the word. When a mas
is justified by law, he is declared to be?lot guilty or ill-deserving.
But it is not so when a man is justified by the gospel.  It is expressly said respecting this plan that God'justifies the ung1odly,"
Rom. iv.  i: meanilng that it is admitted they are unugodly at the
time, or that they are personally guilty.  The act of justification




436              THE WAY  OF SALVATION.
does not change the nature of the offence, or prove that to be right
which is in itself wrong.  Crime is what it is in its own nature,
and is not modified by the manner in which he who commits it is
treated. To pardon a man out of the penitentiary does not prove that
the act of burglary or theft for which he was committed was innocent. To forgive a man under the gallows does not prove that he is
not ill-deserving for the act of murder. To he led, from any consideration, to treat a man who has injured us as if he had not done it,
does not prove that the act was not wrong; or that he should not
regard himself as blameworthy for having done it.  Our kind
treatment of him will not be likely in any degree to diminish his
sense of his criminality; and the act of pardon with which an
offender against God is met, when penitent, will not lessen his
sense of his own guilt.  God never comes in the act of justification
to convince him  that he has not done wrong, but to save him
though it is admitted that he is a great sinner; and the consciousness that he is a sinner will attend him and humble him through
life.  He will lift up his eyes and his heart with thankfulness
that he is a pardoned man; not with pride and self-complacency
that he is an innocent man.  He will have the spirit of the
publican, not of the Pharisee. The publican that went down to his
house justified would not go feeling that he was innocent; he would
be filled with gratitude that so great a sinner might be forgiven.
(4.) Justification in the gospel does not mean mere pardon.  It
has been supposed by many that this is all that is denoted by
it. But there are insuperable objections to this opinion. One
is, that it is a departure from the common use of language.  When
a man who has been sentenced to the penitentiary is pardoned
before the term  of his sentence is expired, we never think of
saying that he is justified.  The offence is forgiven, and the
penalty is remitted; but the use of the word justjfy in his case
would convey a very different idea from the word pardon. Another
objection is, that the sacred writers have so carefully and so
constantly used the word "justify." If mere pardon or forgiveness
were all that is intended, it is difficult to see why another word
has been constantly employed, and a word so different in its
signification.  And another objection is, that mere forgiveness is
not all which the case seems to demand.  There was required a
reinstating in the favour of God; a restoration to forfeited
immunities and privileges; and a purpose in regard to future
treatment which is not necessarily involved in the word pardon.
It may be conceived that, in cases of pardon for high offences,
there would be required, in order to meet all the circumstances of
the case, not only a remission of the penalty, but a distinct act




JUSTIFICATION BY THE MERITS OF CHRIST.   437
restoring to the offender or his family his title, his hereditary
honours, and his place in civil relations.  The pardon of Lord
Bacon would not have restored him at once to the bench, nor the
forgiveness of Raleigh to his station in the court of Elizabeth.  In
the case of a sinner against God, pardon respects mainly the
past; justification, the purpose of God in reference to the future.
Forgiveness remits past crimes; justification respects the purpose
of God to treat the offender as if he had not sinned: and though
these may be simultaneous, yet they may be separated in conception
as distinct things.  The one forgives the past; the other reinstates
the offender in the lost favour of God.
(5.) It is not meant that in the act of justification the merits
of the Lord Jesus become so transferred to us that they can be
regarded as literally ours, or that his righteousness is in any
proper sense our opwn.  This is not true, and cannot be made to be
true.  MIoral character is not capable of being transferred from
one individual to another; and however the benefits of what one
does may be conveyed to another, it will always be true that the
character of an individual is what it is in itself. It will always be
true that Christ, and not we, obeyed perfectly the law of God;
that Christ, and not his people, died on the cross; and that the
merit of his life and death is strictly his, and not theirs. It will
always be true, also, that they violated the law  of God, that
their characters were sinful, and that they deserved not the mercy of
God.  No man can really believe that the moral character of one
individual can be transferred to another, and no one should charge
the Bible with inculcating any such doctrine, either with respect
to the effect of Adam's transgression on his posterity, or the
righteousness of the Redeemer in the salvation of his people.
(6.) We are prepared now  to remark positively, that justification on the gospel-plan denotes a purpose on the part of God
to treat a sinner as if' he wvere righteous.  It implies an intention not to punish him  for his sins; not to regard him  as
any longer under condemnation; not to treat him  as an alien,
an apostate, and an outcast;-but to regard and treat him  in
the future in all his important relations as if he had never
sinned. It involves the purpose to shield him from the condemning
sentence of the law, and the wrath that shall come upon the guilty;
to admit him to the fellowship of unfallen beings; to regard him
as entitled to all the privileges of a child of God, as if he had
not fallen; to throw around him the regis of the Divine protection
and favour to the end of the present life, and then to admit him to
immortal life in heaven.  These things would have been his if he
had not fallen; and these things are now made his in virtue of




438              THE WAY  OF SALVATION
the merits of the Redeemer. In all his great relations, in all the
most permanent and important things that affect him, he is, and
is to be, as if he had not sinned.  The main evils of the apostacy
in his case are arrested, and it is the Divine purpose to regard and
to treat him as a child of God.
It is important to remark, that in these statements it is not
designed toaffirm that in all respects the act of justification places
a man in precisely the same situation in which he would have
been if he had not sinned. It is, indeed, designed to teach that
in the direct Divine dealings with him he will he regarded and
treated as if he were personally righteous.  But why, then, it will
be asked, does he suffer and die?  Why is he not removed to
heaven, as Enoch and Elijah were, without seeing death?  Why
does the justified man ever pass through severe bodily trials, like
Job or Hezekiah; or experience the evils of poverty and want,
like Lazarus; or why is he called to part with beloved children,
or to be thrown into prison, or to lie down in the sorrows of the
most painful form of death, as thousands have already done, and as
the children of God now often do?
It is necessary to make such exceptions or qualifications as these
in explaining the nature of justification.  Though justified, man
is not in ftIct treated in this world in all respects as he would
have been if he had not sinned. In the life to come he will be.
But nothing is plainer   than tat in the present life things occur in
reference to the treatment of those who are justified, which would
not have occurred if man had not sinned, and which. will not
occur in heaven.  Poverty, sickness, bereavement, death, and
kindred evils, come upon the righteous and the -wicked, the saint
and the sinner, the man who is justified and the man who is not.
These evils are indeed softened and mitigated by religion, and may
be among the means by which the justified man is better prepared
for heaven; but still they exist as evils, and are to be regarded
as among the fruits of sin not removed by the act of justification,
and as furnishing the exceptions or qualifications alluded to when
it is said that in this life the justified man is not treated in all
respects as if he had not sinned.  The reasons why the evils of
sin are not entirely arrested by the act of justification, and why
the believer is not treated in this life in all respects as if he had
not sinned, seem to be principally two:(a) One is, that it is not
the nature of religion to arrest or change the operation of physical
laws. It will have an indirect and gradual effect in checking some
of those laws,but to have made that effect direct and immediate would.
have required a constant miracle.  It is not the design of religion
to restore health or property which has been wasted by dissipa



JUSTIFICATION BY THE MERITS OF CHRIST.    439
tion; to check the results of vice in those who have been led
astray by evil example, or to stay the effects of a life of guilt on
our physical frame.  A life of virtue will ultimately do much to
accomplish this; but to do it at once would require the physical
power of a miracle. For the same reason, to be justified does not
save from temporal death, from death in accordance with the laws
of our physical being. No one can doubt that God could have
saved us from this, but it would be easy to suggest reasons why it
has not been done. (b) Another reason why the act of justification does not secure the same treatment in all respects here as if
man had never sinned, is that he who is justified, and who is at
heart a true believer, is often in circumstances where he needs the
discipline of the hand of God.  lie is not at once made perfect;
and his imperfections, his wanderings, his neglect of duty, his
worldliness, often demand the interposition of God for his own good
in a way which would neither be necessary nor proper in the case
of one who had never sinned. Hence, if the Christian sins, he may
be recalled even by stripes.  Hence he comes under the regular
physical laws of the Divine administration in the world.  Hence
he is sick or bereaved.  Hence, like other men, he may be cut off
by the pestilence, may be swallowed up in the promiscuous ruins
of an earthquake, or lie down on a bed of long and lingering
disease, and die.  Here, he is subject to the physical laws of our
being, and to the administration of a wise discipline; in the world
to come, he will be treated altogether as if he had never sinned.
No distinction will be made between him and unfallen beings, nor
will there be any such remembrance of his own former guilt as
that he shall occupy a less elevated position, or have less ready
access to the throne than if he had never been a transgressor.
II. It was proposed, in the second place, to show howvjustification is accomplished through the merits of' Christ,-or how his
merits become available to us for this purpose. It is not uncommon
to say, in explaining this, that His " righteousness is imputed to
us," or that it becomes ours. But as this language, to many
minds, does not convey a very definite conception, and as, to other
minds, it often conveys erroneous impressions, and seems to be
irreconcileable with the common notions of men about moral
character, it is necessary to explain in what sense we become
justified by the merits of Christ. Perhaps in doing this, also, it
may be shown that so far from  being contrary to the common
notions of men about what is right and proper, it is in fact but
carrying out, on the most elevated scale possible, what is practically occurring every day in the common relations and transactions
of life.  It is to be observed, then,
29




440              THE WAY OF SALVATION.
(1.) That we are often benefited by what others hlave done.
The meaning is, that what they have done is of the same advantage to us, for certain ends, as if we had done it ourselves.  A
case or two taken from familiar transactions will illustrate what
is meant, and help to a proper explanation of the subject.  Take
the case of a father and a son.  The reputation of the one is often
a passport or recommendation to the other, of very great value, as
he enters on life.  The son has as yet no known character, no
acquaintance with the world, no credit.  The father has all these.
He is widely known as a man of virtue; he has an extensive and
honoured circle of acquaintance; he has ample credit in the business in which he is engaged.  Now while it is true that this
character and credit belong to the father as his own, and cannot
be literally transferred to the son, it is also true that, for certain
purposes, it may be made to answer the same ends for the latter as if
it were his own. Unless, by his own misconduct, he shall forfeit
the advantage which he might derive from it, it will be a passport
to him in starting on his career  it will go before him, preparing
many hearts to greet him with kindness; it will obtain for him
the confidence of others; it may be the means of securing for him
many a friend and helper when calamities come, even when his
father lies in the grave.  While it will always be true that all
the merit and the credit appertain to his father, and while, whatever may be his own subsequent worth, he will cherish a deep
and abiding impression of that, it is also true that, for certain
purposes, he could have derived no higher advantages in the case
if the character and the credit had been his own.  It would
not indeed to all intents and purposes be the same, but there are
great and valuable ends in his passage through the world which
could be no better secured if all this had been his own.  The
influence of his father's name and character, unless he forfeits the
advantage, will attend him far on, perhaps entirely through, the
journey of life.
Take another common case. A young man embarks in business
without capital.  He has acquired already, it may be, a character
for industry, talent, and honesty; but he has no means by which
he can commence the enterprise of his life.  What he wants now
is credit.  If he had that, he would be sure of success.  But he
has none as yet of his own.  He has had no opportunity to make
himself known, so as to secure the extensive confidence of his
fellow-men.  You have had such an opportunity, and have reaped
its result.  To a certain extent, and for certain purposes, you
allow him to make use of your name. You endorse his papers,
and agree to be responsible for him.  Now this to him, in the




JUSTIFICATION BY THE MERITS OF CHRIST.   441
case referred to, is of just as much value as though the credit
attached to your name were his.  It will be, in the particular
matter referred to, worth as much to him as though he himself had
earned all the influence attached to that name, and secured by a
long and upright life the credit which it conveys.  There will be
indeed, in other respects, important points of difference, but not
in the immediate use which he designs to make of the name.  He
will have a very lively sense of the truth that he himself has
not this credit, that he is unlknown, and that he is under the
deepest obligations to you.  He will never so far mistake the
matter as to suppose that your moral character is transferred to
him, or that he can regard it as in any proper sense his own;
but he will consider that it is available for just the purposes
for which he wants it.  It is all he needs to secure the grand.
object of his life, and is as good to him as if it were his own.
Further: if we would look over society we should find that
this arrangement prevails everywhere, and that we are indebted
to it every day.  It may be doubted whether we live a single
hour, or execute a single plan of life, without being more or less
indebted to it.  It is an influence diffused around us like the
air we breathe, or the sun which shines on our way; or it is like
the tissues of the human frame, where each part derives benefits
in its functions from the numerous other parts with which it is
more or less closely interwoven. It enters into the very texture
of society, that we avail ourselves of the toils, the sacrifices, the
virtues, and the honoured names of those with whom  we are
connected.  No man acquires a reputation for virtue who does
not do much to benefit his children and friends in this way; and
one of the chief stimulants to effort in parents is, that they may
place their children on as high vantage-grounld as possible when
they embark on life.  That youth enters on life under great disadvantages who cannot encircle himself with this influence, and
who is constrained to " cut his way" to respectability or to wealth
alone. As a matter of fact, however, there are few that do this.
The name and influence of a father or a friend, a letter of commendation from those who are known and loved, will be a passport
to us in distant climes and among strangers; will meet us with
its benign influence on the Rhine or the Ganges; will help us
when we should otherwise fall into the hands of freebooters in
a foreign land, or when we should otherwise sink under poverty
and want; or on a distant shore will raise up for us a friend on
the bed of death.  Ho enters life under the best auspices who can
avail himself most of this, without sacrificing his independence,
or being a sycophant or parasite; and he is the most foolish and




442               THE WAY  OF SALVATION
rngrateful of mankind who would willingly renounce all this
advantage, and choose to weather the storms of life, and make his
way through the world friendless and alone.
(2.) The second remark in explaining the way in which we are
justified by the merits of Christ is, that there are two methods by
which we avail ourselves of the benefit accruing from the character
and virtues of others.  The one is, by natural relationship.  This
occurs in the case of a child, who, as a matter of course, derives
advantage from  the industry, the character, and the credit of a
parent.  The other is, by an arrangement made for that end.  Instances of this latter kind occur everywhere. The case of an adopted
child is one-a case where there is no natural relation, and no
natural claim, but where one chooses, for any reasons, that the child
of another should lIe received into his family, and treated as if he
were his own.  It occurs not unfrequently in the case of a matrimonial alliance, where the one party makes use of the name and
influence and rank of the other, and on that account has a degree
of respect to which otherwise there would be no claim.  It occurs
in the cases already referred to, where the use of a name is conceded.  The name of the missionary Schwartz was thus the means
of saving from starvation the whole of a British garrison; ancd
many a man owes his subsequent elevation in life to assistance
furnished him at the outset.  Cases have arisen where the signet
or the ring of a prince has been placed in the hand of another,
conveying to him, if danger should befall him, all the influence
and security which would be possessed by the owner himself;
nor is it very uncommon to give a carte blanche to a friend to be
filled up at pleasure.
(3.) It only remains now, in view  of these illustrations, to
make a third remark, in explanation of the way in which we are
justified through the merits of Christ. The gospel-plan is, that we
are permitted to avail ourselves of his abounding merits, so that we
may be treated as if those merits were our own. It is not that His
merits are transferred. to us, or that his moral character or righteousness becomes properly ours, or that we cease to deserve punishmen t,
or that an apology is made for our sins, or that Christ takes our
part against justice; but that his merits are so ample, his life
and death have accomplished so much, and his work has been so
meritorious, that we may, by a suitable connexion with him, be
regarded and treated as if we were truly righteous before God, so
that "G God can be just, and the justifier of him that believeth in
Jesus;" just and true, " while he justifies the ungodly."
This connexion between the Saviour and those who are benefited
by his merits is not a natural connexion, for no such relation by




JUSTIFICATION BY THE MERITS OF CHRIST.   443
nature subsists as would entitle any one to be regarded and treated
as righteous on his account; but it is a relation which is constituted entirely by faith.  The influence of faith in forming it, and
in making it proper that they who are united to him  should be
treated as righteous, will be explained hereafter.  It is sufficient
now to remark, that the relation which is sustained is one that is
formed, not one that exists by nature. It is formed by a personal
union of the soul to Christ, and by the gracious concession on his
part, in accordance with the Divine arrangement, that we may
avail ourselves of his infinite and inexhaustible merits, so that
we may be treated as if they were our own. There are two additional thoughts which may be suggested to illustrate this:
(a) The one is, that his merit is inexhaustible. There is no
diminution or exhaustion of the merit of his work by the numbers
that avail themselves of it.  This makes the plan of redemption
wholly different from anything which occurs among men. A man
of the widest credit and highest standing may be conceived to
allow his name to be so often used by those who have no claim to
it, or who turn out to be worthless and abuse his claim, as to
exhaust his credit and make his name good for nothing.  Not
so the Saviour.  No numbers that apply exhaust his credit, or
diminish at all the merit of that blood by which they are saved.
That blood is as efficacious now, and that holy name of our
Advocate is as much honoured in heaven now, as when the first
sinner was justified, and when the gates of glory were first thrown
open to receive a ransomed soul.
(b) The other remark is, that the Lord Jesus becomes the
Surety that the universe shall suffer no wrong by our being
admitted to heaven.  So far as we are concerned, he pledges
himself to meet all the claims of the law and of justice upon us.
That is, he becomes the Surety, that, under this arrangement, as
great good shall result to the universe from our being saved as
would be attained by our punishment for ever.  By such punishment, nothing would have been gained in regard to the honour of the
law, the truth of God, and the interests of justice, which are not
secured under the present arrangement by the substituted sorrows
of the Son of God in making the atonement.  Thus he becomes
the " Surety of a better covenant" (Heb. vii. 22), and stands before
the universe as the public pledge that no harm is done to any
interest of truth and justice by the admission of one who is an
acknowledged sinner into heaven. Thus the publican was justified;
thus Paul, the persecutor and blasphemer, "won Christ and was
found in him, not having his own righteousness, which was of the
law, but that which was through the faith of Christ" (Phil. iii.




444               THE WAY OF SALVATION.
8, 9); and thus multitudes of the profane and the sensual, by
believing on Christ, have entered heaven and been blessed.  There
stands the Great Advocate, not for their sins, but for them; and
there stands the security that no injury shall be done by treating
even such sinners for ever as if they were righteous, and that all
that law or justice could ask, all that could be secured either by
their own personal perfect obedience, or by their enduring the
eternal penalty of the law, has been secured by his holy life and
meritorious death.  When, therefore, they enter heaven, it is not
over prostrated law; over an humbled government; over disregarded threatenings; by a changeful policy; or by partiality in
the administration; it is because their Great Surety has himself
secured the honour of the law, and because in their conscious
destitution of merit he has enough for them all.  His name is the
guarantee to justice and to God; his inexhaustible merits, the
reason why they may be treated as if his righteousness were
their own.
This is what is properly meant by iiputation.  The true
doctrine implies no transfer of moral character; no infusion of
righteousness into the soul; no physical identity between the
Redeemer and his people; no such charging of their sins to him as
that he became in any proper sense a sinner, or deserved to be put
to death,-nothing but the purpose on the part of God, in virtue
of what he has done, to treatthose who are themselves guilty as
if they were righteous.  " By that righteousness being impulted to
lus, says President Edwards, "is meant no other than this, that
the righteousness of Christ is accepted for us, and admitted
instead of that perfect inherent righteousness which ought to be
in ourselves.  Christ's perfect obedience shall be reckoned to our
account, so that wve shall have the benefit of it, as though we had
performed it ourselves." ~
I have thus submitted to you some views on perhaps the most
important subject of religion.  They pertain to that great doctrine
which separates Christianity from every other system of religion,
and to the answer which Christianity furnishes to the question,
asked with so much solicitude in every age, " How  shall man
be justified with God?"  The answer is, that we are "justified
freely by his grace through the redemption that is in Christ
Jesus." It is this doctrine which divides the religion of the
gospel from  other systems; which makes it what it is; which
gives it whatever influence or power it has in speaking peace to
the troubled conscience, and bidding the spirit that is captive
under sin go free.  It is this which will enable man to appear
* Works, vol.. p. 394.




JUSTIFICATION BY TIIE MERITS OF CHRIST.    445
before his final Judge justified, not by any miserable attempt to
deny the fact that he is a sinner, to apologize for his errors and
follies, and found a claim to favour on such apology, to substitute
an external morality for that holiness of heart which the law of
God requires, or to present as a ground of acceptance the vain
oblation of outward forms.
I have enleavoured also to show, that though this method of
justification is entirely peculiar to Christianity, and separates it
from all other religious systems, yet that it accords with principles prevailing everywhere in society, and on which men act every
day and in every land.  It is the embodiment and concentration
of these principles, and shows their operation on the highest
scale possible.  Thus, as already remarked, in matters pertaining
to this life, we owe to the name, and standing, and credit of others,
an introduction to the world, facilities for doing business, valued
friends who may succour us in trouble:-and on substantially the
same principles, though on an infinitely higher scale, we owe to
the merits of another-the Son of God-an introduction to the
Divine favour; the friendship of angelic beings   the peace of
pardon; the calmness of the Christian death; a passport to heaven,
and the crown incorruptible beyond the grave.  Whatever of
joy or peace, of honour or favour, we shall have in the long ages
of eternity, is to be traced to the operation, on the highest scale
possible, of this principle-that we may be benefited by the sacrifice and toils, the name and merit, the righteousness and sufferings of Another.
In common affairs we do not disregard or undervalue this.
Those who enter on life regard it as a felicitous circumstance in
their condition, if they may go forth with such passports and
commendations to the esteem  of the world.  That young man
would justly regard himself as destitute of every manly and
generous feeling, as well as every principle of self-respect, who
should discard and spurn this advantage, and prefer to go forth to
the world without the commendation or the patronage of a single
friend.  We are going to a more important theatre of being than
is this narrow  world.  We shall soon pass beyond its outer
bounds, and move through other regions.  We are to go up and
meet our Maker; to enter on a mode of existence that shall have no
end; to be associated with orders of beings now to us unknown;and there are great interests at stake, compared with which all the
concerns of earth are trifles.  We go to a royal court-the court of
heaven —where we have no claim or right to appear.  We go up to
obtain, if admitted there, the favour of a Being whose law we have
violated, and whose displeasure we have incurred. We go where




446              THE WAY OF SALVATION.
we can take no wealth with us; and where, if we could, it would
avail nothing;-where we shall be disrobed of all in a graceful
exterior, or in fascinating manners, that may commend us to
others here; and where, if it should accompany us, it would be
valueless; —where the name of a father, or the powerful influence
of a friend that might recommend us to the favour of men, would be
of no avail;-where no earthly thing on which we here rely as a
passport to others could be a commendation.  But there is One in
human flesh that dwells there. He once lived among men. He was
most holy, and lovely, and pure; but Hie died.  He rosefrom the
tomb, and the everlasting gates were opened, and He entered his
native skies.  To the very interior of the court of heaven, to the
sacred seat of Deity, to the throne itself He has been admitted,
and is seated there. With all that heaven He is familiar, for He is
there at home. With all its streets of gold, with all its far-distant
mansions, with all its many departments fitted up for the abodes
of the blessed, He is familiar.  His powerful aid He proffers us in
our sin and ignorance and helplessness, and assures us of his
willingness that we should plead his name, and make mention of
his merits as if they were our own, as a reason why we should be
welcome there.  In heaven, his plea has never been denied; the
claim of his merits has never been dishonoured.  Shall we refuse
his offer?  Shall we spurn his name?  Shall we turn away from
that Friend, and Advocate, and Patron, and go there friendless
and alone?  Shall we seek to commend ourselves to a holy God
by our own doings, and to stand there in our own attempts to
vindicate our ways?  Shall we spurn the robes of salvation which
he proffers, so white, so pure, so full and flowing, and gird
ourselves with the rags of our own righteousness? —How you,
my hearers, may feel on this point, I know not.  But for one, I,
who expect to stand soon before that holy throne of Deity, desire
to have some better righteousness than any which I have been
able to work out myself. I wish to have something which I may
plead in the place of that which I have failed to render. I would
have some better passport to the skies than can be furnished by
my poor prayers and services in the cause of God.  I must have
sonme Friend there whose name is all-prevalent, whose petition is
never denied, and about acceptance through whose merits there
cannot be the shadow of a doubt.




SERMON XXXV.
THE INFLUENCE OF FAITH  IN JUSTIFICATION.
Ron. i. 16, 17. —  For I am not ashamed of the gospel of Christ: for it is
the power of God unto salvation to every one that believeth; to the Jew first,
and also to the Greek. For therein is the righteousness of God revealed
from faith to faith: as it is written, The just shall live by faith."
Ix the last discourse, when showing how we are saved through the
merits of Christ, it was remarked, that the means by which we
become interested in his merits, or by which they are made
available to us, is faith.  I propose now to show the influence of
faith in our justification.  The doctrine of the text is, that a man
is considered just before God, and treated as such, not in virtue of
his own works, but in virtue of his exercising faith in Christ.
" For therein, that is, in the gospel, " the righteousness of God"
or God's plan of regarding and treating men as righteous, "is
revealed from  faith to faith;" that is, by faith unto those who
have faith, or who believe; " as it is written, The just shall live
by faith," or those justified by faith shall have everlasting life.
It is needless to prove at length that this is the settled doctrine of
the New Testament.  " Therefore we conclude," says the apostle
in the third chapter of this epistle (ver. 28), "that a man is
justified by faith without the deeds of the law."  Again, "By
the deeds of the law, there shall no flesh be justified in his sight.
But now the righteousness of God without the law is manifested,
being witnessed by the law and the prophets; even the righteousness of God which is by faith of Jesus Christ unto all and upon
all them that believe: for there is no difference," Rom. iii. 20-22.
So the apostle Paul says again, "A man is not justified by the
works of the law, but by the faith of Jesus Christ," Gal. ii. 16.
In accordance with this, is the great doctrine which the Saviour
taught his disciples to promulgate, as comprising all that he
designed them to preach: "Go ye into all the world, and preach
the gospel to every creature.  He that believeth, and is baptized,
shall be saved; but he that believeth not, shall be damned,"
Mark xvi. 15, 16. That is, there is no other method of being saved
but by believing, or by faith; and if a man has not this, he must
be lost.




448               THE WAY OF SALVATION.
Probably every one who has ever read these passages has been
disposed to ask, Why is so much stress laid onjfith in the plan of
redemption?  Why is it made so central, and so indispensable in
the salvation of the soul?  What inherent virtue is there in this
act that has given it such a pre-eminence over all other virtues?
What is there in this that should make it a substitute for all the
good works that men can perform?  Perhaps some will be disposed to add, that the system of Christianity is thus removed from
all other systems, and is different from all the laws and principles
on which men act in other things.  Merit, in other cases, is not in
accordance with a man's belief, but according to his virtues-his
moral worth; and why shouldfifith have such special eminence in
the eye of God?  The rewards of this life are not distributed
according to a man's faith or credulity; and why should the
rewards of heaven be?  We judge of the excellency of a man's
character, not according to the readiness with which he embraces
what is proposed to him for his credence, but usually somewhat
in proportion to his caution and the slowness of his belief; and
why does religion require a man to hasten to believe that which
is proposed to him, as if this were the chief of virtues?  When
also a man is put on trial, he is acquitted, not because he exhibits
an example of trusting in his judge or his advocate, but because
he is able to vindicate his conduct; and why shall we not look
for something analogous in religion?  Why are pardon and hope,
life and joy, heaven and glory, peace here and bliss hereafter, all
mnade to depend on failththe centre and the circumference, the
beginning, the middle, and the end, according to the gospel, of
every virtue?  These are inquiries which it is natural to make;
they are inquiries which the friend of Christianity should feel it
to be a part of his vocation to answer.  The relation or connexion
which these questions bear to the subject before us is this:Supposing that man has no merit of his own, as has been shown,
and that there are infinite merits in the Redeemer through which
cwe may be saved; why is it proper that we should avail ourselves
of those merits only through faith?  Why should faith be the
instrument by which we may be treated as if those merits were
ours?
The answer to these questions is, that, in the circumstances of
the case, faith constitutes a union with the Redeemer of such a
nature as to make it proper to treat us substantially as he claims
to be treated-that is, as righteous; to make it proper that we
should share his happiness, his favour, his protection on earth, and
his glory in heaven; and that the union formed by faith between
the soul and the Redeemer is so tender, so close, and so strong, as




INFLUENCE  OF'AITII IN  JUSTIFICATION.    449
to imply an identity of interest, and to make it certain and proper
that the blessings descending on him  should, according to their
capacity and wants, descend on those who believe.  It is evident
that the particular reason why faith has been selected as the
means of this is, that it constitutes a union more close, firm, and
enduring than any other virtue; and that it meets more evils in
the world than any other act of the mind would do.  On this
account, it is singled out from all other acts of the mind in the
plan of justifying men.
To many, these remarks may appear abstract and obscure.
It is proposed therefore, in a series of observations, to show lwhy
faith is so important; why it is the very cardo rerum-the hinge of
salvation. One other preliminary remark should be made: it is, that
there is a great and essential difibrence betweenfaith and credulity.
We distinguish them accurately in common life; but we fear that
they are sometimes confounded when men think of religion.
(1.) As we have already seen, faith acts an important part in the
affairs of the world. Using the word in the sense of co1fidezce, there
is nothing else on which the welfare of society more depends, or
which is more indispensable to its prosperous and harmonious relations.  It enters into everything, and we are every day and every
hour acting under its influence, and depending on it as essential to
all that we hold dear.  It is the cement of families, of neighbourhoods, of governments, of nations.  The faith of treaties, of compacts, of promises, of friendships, of affection, is that which holds
the world together, and without which society would go to pieces.
To loosen it at once would be like loosening every rope in a ship,
or unscrewing every fastening and bolt in a machine.  It is by
faith, or mutual confidence, that the relations of domestic life are
maintained; that the harmony of a family is secured; that business
in a mercantile community is carried on; that a bainking institution effects the purpose for which it was chartered; or that a
government can secure the ends for which it was instituted.  It
is by faith only that we derive lessons of valuable instruction from
history, or that we act with reference to what is yet to come.  If
we had no more confidence in any of the testimonies of history
than we have in the fabulous details of the dynasties of India, the
mythological periods of Grecian history, or the legends of the saints,
all past history would be utterly useless, for it would convey no
certain lessons. If we had no faith in the stability of the course of
events,-the rising of the sun, the moon, and the stars-the return
of the seasons-the continuance of the laws of magnetism, of
gravitation, or of vegetation,-we should form  no plan for the
future; we should neither plant a field, nor build a ship, nor




450               THE WAY OF SALVATION.
venture out on the ocean, where we might soon be without sun, or
star, or compass.  We confide in our teachers, in a physician, a
counsellor, a clergyman; and it would be impossible that the
cause of education, jurisprudence, or religion, could be maintained
if there were no such confidence.  The farmer of the Eastern
States believes in the vast fertility of the West, of which he has
heard, but which he has never seen, and with his wife and children
leaves the graves of his fathers to seek that land on the strength
of his faith.  The merchant believes that there is such a place
as Canton or Calcutta, though he has seen neither, and on the
strength of that faith would embark all his property in the same
vessel, and stake the whole question about making a fortune in
this world on his strong confidence that such places, of which he
has heard, have an existence.  In like manner, we are exercising
confidence in  everything.  We believe the  testimony of the
historians, though we never saw  Xenophon, or Thucydides, or
witnessed the events of which they wrote; we vote for the man
whom we have never seen; we confide in the bankers across the
waters, whom we never expect to behold.  Were it not for this
unceasing confidence, and its varied operations, we could not get
along for a single day or hour.  The affairs of the world would
at once stand still; the bands of society would at once become
loosened; and everything would fall into irretrievable confusion.
It is true, there is much credulity in the world, and multitudes
in all professions and relations in life are imposed on.  But so
also there is much counterfeit money, and many may be injured
or ruined by it.  But the existence of a circulating medium  is
indispensable, and there is by far more genuine than false coin at
any time in the world, and any quantity of spurious coin does not
render that valueless which is genuine.  So, any amount of
credulity does not prove that it is improper for men ever to repose
confidence in one another, or that all faith is valueless.
(2.) The second observation illustrating the importance of faith
with reference to the subject before us is, that faith is the strongest
conceivable bond of union between minds and hearts.  It is, in
fact, the cement of all unions, and without which all else is
valueless.  In friendships, in treaties, in national compacts, in
social intercourse, in the tender domestic relations, it is the very
bond of union, and there is nothing else that can be a substitute
for it.  The seal, which is affixed to a letter that is sent to a
friend, makes it secure, not because no one has power to break
it, but because there is confidence in each post-master through
whose hands it may pass, and in each stranger or friend into whose
hands it may happen to fall, that he will respect the seal, and will




INFLUENCE OF FAITH  IN JUSTIFICATION.    451
not break it. The piece of wax or wafer, that is appended to a
written compact, makes it secure, not because neither of the contracting parties has powver to break it, but because it is a pledge
of mutual confidence.  The seal, which is appended to a will,
renders it secure, not because no one has powver' to break it, but
because the testator has confidence that his friends and that the
courts of his country will respect his wishes, when his mouth is
for ever closed against the possibility of his declaring his desires,
and his hand powerless to assert his rights.  A treaty between
nations is secure, not by any inherent power in the parchment
on which it is drawn, nor because the seal cannot be broken,
but because this is the expression of the cofidence which now
subsists, the belief that both will regard it.
Look into the relations of life.  What is it that forms and
preserves those numerous unions on which the very existence of
society depends?  What is the basis of the union of husband and
wife, of parent and child, of brother and sister, of friend and
friend?  What but mutual confidence?  And is it asked, What is
the strength of that? In answer to these cquestions, an illustration
nay be employed taken from the most tender relation in life.
This illustration is used because it is the very one more than once
referred to on this subject in the Bible, and because it enters so
vitally into the welfare of society.  Here is a young man just
entering on life.  His character is fair; his profession is honourable; his person and standing are liable to no objection, and no
suspicion;-but what he may yet be no one earthly can tell, for
no one can certainly predict what a man. will be till lie is
tried.  Here is a youthful female,-the joy of her mother, and the
pride of her father's heart. She has been delicately trained; has
a home that has every attraction; is secure there of unfailing
friends as long as her father and mother shall live; and has
ample means of support.  She breaks all these ties; leaves the
home of her childhood; bids adieu to father, mother, brothers, and
sisters, and commits herself into the hands of this comparative
stranger.  A father's and a mother's and a brother's love she
exchanges for his.  Her hand, her heart, her property, she gives
to him. She pledges herself to go where he goes; to suffer what he
suffers; to make his fiiends hers; to love him with an ardour with
which she loves no other human being; to break away from every
tie of country and home, if he shall will it; and, in a sense more
absolute than exists in any other case, to commit her happiness
into his hands. Every day and every hour that they will live,
she is dependent on his prosperity, his virtue, and his smiles for
her happiness; and the moment his affections are withdrawn, or




452               THE WAY  OF SALVATION.
he ceases to be a virtuous man, her happiness is dead.  If he is
virtuous, faithful, and kind, she regrets not the act of confidence
with which she gave him  her heart and hand.  But what if he
trifles with her happiness?  What if he always meets her with
a frown?  What if he proves false to his vows?  What if he
becomes a wretched drunkard?-Now what has been the foundation, and the source, and tie strength of this union?  Confidence;
and when that is gone, domestic peace dies.  She has made a
sacrifice of her happiness, and her earthly felicity is a wreck."
Let another thought be suggested here: it is, that this union
of confidence secures an identity in their destiny.  They are one"' one flesh," said the Saviour-and the same event will now affect
both.  Before this union, the storm  might have beat on one of
them, and sunshine gladdened the path of the other.  TNow, the
storm  and the sunshine come on both alike.  The light that
gladdens the eyes of the one, is also a pleasant thing to the other;
the star that rises propitiously on one, rises propitiously also on
the path of the other.  The blessings of peace and joy that greet
the one, greet the other also.  There is one heart, one pulsation,
one breathing, one soul made up of the two.  And so, if calamity
comes.  If, under the roof where they are to abide, the pale
destroyer shall come with stealthy foot-tread, and change the
rose on the cheek of a smiling babe to the lily of death, it will be
a scene in which both their hearts will bleed alike, and they
will weep together over the open grave.  If one is sad, both are
sad; if one is poor, both are poor; if around one the storms of life
beat heavily, the tempest will beat on both.  Their union, one
pre-eminently of mutual faith plighted before the altar, constitutes
an identity in all the great events of life, and secures to both
substantially the same treatment from the Great Disposer of all
things.  They share the same fortune-the same honour or disgrace-the same sorrows and the same joys; they are wafted on
to a port of bliss, or are wrecked in the same vessel; they are
greeted with the same welcome in life, they are buried in the
same grave.  It is easy to apply this illustration to the matter
in hand.
(3.) The third illustration is, that faith is of such a nature that it
is adapted to meet all the evils of the world. The idea is, that it
has been made the hinge or turning-point of salvation, because the
want of it has been the source of all the calamities which man has
suffered, and because, if this is restored, the evils of the world
would be at an end.
The grand evil on earth, and the source of all subordinate evils,
is a want of cof~cdence irn God.  This was the evil at the start,




INFLUENCE  OF FAITH  IN  JUSTIFICATION.    453
that man reposed more confidence in thQ teachings of the tempter
than in the law of the Creator; and this has been the source of all
our woe.  Man has no confidence in his God; does not believe
tia t He is qualified for universal empire; that He manages the
aftiirs of the universe well; that His law is equal and just; that
His dispensations are in accordance with equity; that His plan of
fal vation is wise;-he does not show confidence in Him by yielding
ilnplicit obedience to His laws, or by submitting to Ilis dispensations;-he does not go to Him  and ask counsel of Him  in the
darknesses and perplexities of life; he does not seek support from.Is arm in timnes of calamity; he does not commit his great
interests to Him, believing that He will be his guide through life,
ali that He will yet make "all things work together for good."
13ut he confides in other things;-he confides in his own strength, till
Iis strength fails; in his philosophy, till it deludes and deceives
him; in his fellow-men, till they all betray him; in friends and
I;indred, till they drop into the grave; in his skill and sagacity,
till he comes to a place in life where the " right hand forgets its
cunning."  He confides in stocks and stones, in graven images, and
iour-footed beasts, and creeping things; but by nature he has no
confidence in God.
This is the grand evil of the world, this the source of all our
woes; for, a want of confidence here produces the same kind of
evils, though on a larger scale, as a want of confidence everywhere.
We have seen that the welfare of society depends on mutual
confidence.  Now, to see how wretched any society can possibly
be, we have only to supposethe existence there of the same want
of confidence which subsists in man toward his Maker.  What
would be the result?  No man would know in whom to trust
no one could form  a plan dependent in any manner on the
fidelity of others; no one could be certain that any of his
purposes of life could be effected.  The scene at Babel would be
re-acted again all over the world, and worse disorder than that
which followed from  confounding the languages of the people
there, would pervade all classes and conditions of mankind.  The
remedy for such a state of things would be the restoration of
multual confidence.  In such a condition of ill, nothing would have
so far-reaching an effect.  It would, in fact, meet all those ills, and
make society harmonious and happy.  The wheels.of commerce,
of government, of domestic peace, of public improvement, of
education, would again roll on harmoniously, and happiness would
again bless the world.  The want of faith or confidence in God has
produced all the ills on earth of which those just supposed are but
an emblem; the restoration of confidence in God would strike at




454              THE WAY OF SALVATION.
the root of all those ills, and make this a happy world.  It is this
which makes heaven happy, where every being has confidence in
God, and in all that dwell there; and, with all our wants and
sadnesses, this too would he a happy world if there were universal
confidence in God. In our sorrows, we should then have peace,
for we should believe that all is well-ordered; under our heavy
burdens of life, we should find support, for we should go and roll
all on his arm; in all the dark and perplexing questions that now
agitate us about the introduction of moral evil and the prevalence
of iniquity, our minds would be calm, for we should feel that there
was a reason for it all; and in the prospect of death-that which
now makes us so sad-our hearts would find more than peace, we
should utter the language of joy and triumph, for it would be only
the coming of a messenger to bear us to a much-loved Father's
arms.  The grand thing that needs to be done on earth to make
this a happy world, is to restore universal confidence in God; and
this is the whole aim of religion-this the object of the scheme of
redemption.  Hence the necessity of faith is laid at the foundation of the whole scheme; it is the cardinal thing in the plan of
salvation.  This restored, what a happy world, after all, would
this be! For it is a beautifil world.  It is full of the proofs of
God's goodness and love.  There are a thousand comforts that
meet us every day and every night, and a thousand tender cords
that should bind us to our Creator.  If we confided in Him as
qualified for universal empire; if we felt that He isJit to manage
the affairs of his own world; if we believed that He will yet bring
order out of confusion, and light out of darkness; if we trusted
that his law is good and his commandment holy; and if we would
go to Him with the confiding spirit with which a little child goes
and tells all his troubles to his father, this would be still a
happy world.  For that grand undertaking of the Almighty
Father of us all to restore unwavering confidence in himself,
manifested  in  the gospel, the world  should  be unfeignedly
thankful; and one of the principal topics of praise on earth
should be, that He has required faith as the very elementary
principle of his religion.
(4.) A fourth remark in explanation of the subject is, that faith
is required, or is made the condition of justification, for this
reason:-there is an obvious propriety that, where salvation is
provided and offered, there should be some act on our part
signifying our acceptance of it.  If we are to be saved through the
nerits of Christ, there should be some act indicating our wish or
our will; some expression of our desire in the case; something
that shall serve to distinguish us from those who are not saved.




INFLUENCE  OF FAITH  IN  JUSTIFICATIONl.    455
It evidently would not be proper, it would not be consulting the
nature which God has given us, to receive the human race
indiscriminately into heaven without any intimation of a wish to
be saved; nor would it he fitting to save one part and leave the
other, unless there were something that would indicate in the one
a desire to he saved, which did not exist in the case of the other.
What would better show  this than faith?  What would be a
better expression of a desire to be saved?  What act would be
more appropriate in accepting salvation, in the intimating of a
wish that the benefits of the death of Christ might be ours? What
would constitute a stronger bond between the soul and Him than
this? What would come nearer towards constituting that identity
on which it is proper that those who are united should be treated
alike?  You are a father.  You  have two sons. They both
become disobedient.  They leave your house at their pleasure;
go where they choose; are out at such hours as suit their
convenience; keep such company as they desire; and are wholly
regardless of your laws. They heed neither your promises nor your
threats, and they have gone so far that they have now no confidence
in you. You have favours which you are willing to bestow  on
them.  You would be willing to receive them to your house, and
to treat them  as sons, alike in your lifetime and in your will.
But would you think it unreasonable, that as a condition of their
being received and treated as sons they should evince returning
confidence in you?  And if one of them should return, and should
ever onward manifest the confidence due from  a son to a father,
and the other should not, would you think it improper to make a
distinction between them in your lifetime and at your death? And
would they and the world be at a loss for a reason why it was
done? The remark here is, that faith in Christ is the appropriate
act ly which we accept of the benefits of his work, and that this
constitutes a difference between him who accepts of salvation and
him who does not accept it; and that this is a reason why the one
should be treated as if he were interested in those benefits and
the other not-that is, a reason why the one is justified and the
other not.
(5.) The fifth remark necessary to explain the subject, or to
show why faith in Christ is made the turning-point of j ustification
and salvation, is, that the act of believing' on Christ is made in
circumstances and in a manner indicating coyidcence of the highest
kind that ever exists in the human bosom, constituting a union
of the closest conceivable nature.  It is an act so identifying
the soul and the Saviour that it is proper that the salme treatment which the Itdeemer receives should in their measure be
30




456               THE WTAY OF SALVATION.
received by his people, or that, in the Divine treatment, they
should be practically regarded as one. The circumstances are
these:(a) The sinner feels that he is lost and ruined.  He is made
sensible that he is guilty before God, and that he has no claim to
Divine mercy. His heart is evil; his life has been evil; his whole
soul is evil.  If justice were done him, he feels that he should be
for ever banished from God and heaven. Yet he feels that he has
a soul of infinite value.  It is to endure for ever. It is capable,
in the long eternity before it, of suffering more than the aggregate
of all the sorrows that have yet been endured on earth and in
hell.  It is capable, also, in that infinite duration, of enjoying
more than the aggregate bliss of all that has been experienced on
earth, united with all that has been known in heaven.  A boundless eternity is before the trembling sinner, and infinite interests
are at stake.
(b) He despairs of salvation for himself. He feels now that he
has no power to rescue his soul from death.  iHe cannot confide
in his own arm, or in the arm of any mortal.  He has tried every
method of salvation, every way of obtaining peace of conscience,
every plan that proposed security to his soul,-but in vain.  He
stands now a lost and ruined being, trembling on the shores of
eternity.  The boundless ocean spreads out before him.  Clouds
and darkness rest upon it.  He has deserved no mercy; lie has
no claim on God to be his guide and protector; he can urge no
reason why he should be admitted to a world of peace.
(c) In these sad and perilous circumstances, he commits his
soul, with all its infinite and eternal interests, into the hands of
the Lord Jesus. By a simple act of faith he embraces Him as his
Saviour, his Friend, his Sacrifice, his Advocate.  Renouncing all
confidence in his own merit, he resolves to rely on the merit of
Christ; abandoning every plea on the ground of what he has
himself done, he resolves to urge the merits of the Saviour as his
plea; and forsaking for ever all reliance for salvation on birth
pr blood, on moral virtues or intellectual attainments, on rank in
life or the commendation of friends, on the goodness of his own
heart or on forms in religion, he stakes his own everlasting interest,
and the question of his final salvation, on the belief that there
is a Saviour, and that Jesus is the Son of God, and that He
is able and willing to save him.  He is willing to risk the
issue on this belief; and he who was a moment before trembling
on the verge of hell as if there were no hope, now  calmly
turns the eye to heaven, and smiles through his tears, and says,
"I know whom  I have believed, and am persuaded that he is




INFLUENCE OF FAITH  IN  JUSTIFICATION.   457
able to keep that which I have committed unto him  against
that day."
(d) This is a wonderful act of confidence. That is great confidence which is evinced when a drowning man seizes a rope that
is thrown to him, and suspends the question of his safety on the
belief that you can draw him to the shore. That would be great
confidence which the man who was shipwrecked, and who had
clambered up a projecting rock above the reach of the waves,
would evince, if he should fasten around his body a rope let
down from above, and swing off over the raging billows, trusting
to the rope and the strength of those above to draw him up. And
that is great confidence, in a case already referred to, where a delicately-trained youthful female leaves her mother and father, and
commits herself, for weal or woe, into the hands of a comparative
stranger. But such acts are not equal to that by which the dying
soul commits itself to the Saviour. They will hardly do for an
illustration. For what are the raging waves of the ocean compared
with the rolling fires of the world of despair? What is the perilled
death of the body compared with the death of the soul?  What
are all the temporal interests which youth, or beauty, or virtue
can commit to another here, compared with those eternal interests
which are entrusted to the Son of God?
(e) It remains, then, only to add, that in virtue of such a union
there should be identity of treatment.  So we saw in the illustration of the husband and wife, where the union between them led
on to common sorrows and common joys; common successes and
common reverses; common sunshine and common shade.  Much
more should it be so in the more tender and close union of the
soul to the Saviour by the act of faith. They become one. He
is the " Vine," they are the " branches;" he the " Head," they
the " members;" he lives in them, and dwells in them.  He is
" Christ in us, the hope of glory."  " We are members of his
body, of his flesh, and of his bones."  " I live," says the apostle,' yet not I, but Christ liveth in me."  " Because I live," said the
Saviour, "'ye shall live also." Through all life's future scenes
his people will be treated as one with him; and the union is
so close that it introduces them to common joys and triumphs
with him for ever. They will be made happy, because the same
blessings that descend on the " Head" will flow to all the
n members.?'
In view of these remarks, the following thoughts may be suggested in conclusion:(1.) The simplicity and ease of the way of salvation in the
gospel are remarkable.  The leading thing required of him who




458               THE WAY OF SALVATION.
would be saved, is faith, or confidence, in the Redeemer. Thus
Paul said to the trembling jailer at Philippi, " Believe on the
Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved," Acts xvi. 31.  So
again in the Epistle to the Romans, "I If thou shalt confess with
thy mouth the Lord Jesus, and shalt believe in thine heart that
God hath raised him from the dead, thou shalt be saved.  For
with the heart man believeth unto righteousness, and with the
mouth confession is made unto salvation," Roll. x. 9, 10.  Here,
as everywhere in the New Testament, salvation is represented as
easy.  The terms are as simple as possible.  There is no requisition of our attempting to obey the whole law of God as a condition
of salvation; no demand on us to offer costly sacrifices, or to
make pilgrimages to a distant shrine, or to practise penances
and fastings, or to lacerate the body, or to attempt to work out
a righteousness by conformity to external forms, or by union to a
particular church.  The simple, the single thing demanded is,
faith on the Son of God. If man has this, he is safe.  No matter
what his past life has been; no matter what his complexion,
rank, or apparel; no matter where he lives or dies; no matter
whether he worships in a splendid temple or under the open vault
of heaven; and no matter whether his body rests in consecrated
ground or amid the corals of the ocean,-he is a child of God, and
an heir of the kingdom. Whatever may be said of this plan of
salvation, it cannot be said that it is not sufficiently simple, and
that it does not breathe a spirit of benignity towards the lost and
ruined children of men. The infidel cannot object that God has
not adapted it to the condition of human nature as it is-made
up, for the most part, of the ignorant, of the down-trodden, and of
children; nor that it has required more of any man than the
human powers can render.  Yet,
(2.) While thus simple and easy, it is on the great principles
which we see everywhere prevail.  There is required in salvation
that which keeps the social world together, and causes human
things to move on in harmony-that without which all the interests
of man would be a wreck.  There is required that which would
arrest all human ills, and make this still a happy worldclcondence
in our God. Man wants but this to make him a happy being here;
he will want but this to make him happy for ever.  As confidence
is the great principle which cements society, so it was indispensable
in religion that confidence in God should be restored.  We cannot
conceive that a human being could be saved without faith.  Even
if it had not been distinctly and formally required in the plan, it
is impossible to conceive that there could have been salvation
*without it.  The very process of returning to God from  our




INFLUENCE OF FAITH  IN  JUSTIFICATION.   459
wanderings implies returning confidence-for how or why should
the sinners return to him if they have no confidelnce in him? And
how could they be happy in heaven if they had no confidence in God?
What would heaven be, if there were there the same distrust of the
Deity, and the same rebellion against him, and the same alienation
from him, and the same doubt of his being, his justice, and his
goodness, which exist on earth?  The plan of salvation by faith
is laid in the deepest philosophy, and is based on the irreversible
nature of things.
(3.) The subject suggests a remark on the nature and aims of
infidelity.  Men often thinl that unbelief is a harmless thing.
They sometimes regard it as a special proof of meritorious independence to be an infidel.  They pride themselves on their philosophy and their freedom from vulgar prejudices and priestcraftperhaps on their freedom from the prejudices instilled by a pious
parent, a pastor, or a Sunday-school teacher.  They consider the
denunciation of unbelief in the gospel as singularly harsh, and
use no measured terms in expressing their abhorrence of a system
which denounces the eternal pains of hell on a man because he
will not believe.  The want of faith, say they, is a harmless or a
meritorious thing.  But are you connected with a bank? Would
you think that a harmless effort in a daily paper which should
attempt to unsettle the confidence of the community in your
institution?-Have you a character for virtue, which you have
secured by years of toil and of upright deportment?  Is that a
harmless report in the community which tends to destroy all
confidence in that character? —Are you a father? Is it a harmless effort of your neighbour when he attempts to unsettle the
confidence of your own children in your virtue?-Are you a
husband? Is he a harmless man who shall aim to unsettle your
faith in the wife of your bosom, and produce between you and
her an utter want of confidence?-And is there no evil in that
state of mind where there is no confidence in God that rules on
high; the God that made us, and that holds our destiny in his
hands?  Is it nothing to unsettle the faith of men in God, and
to introduce universal distrust in his government?  Is it nothing
to inculcate or cherish the thought that the Governor of the
world is a dark, malignant, harsh, and severe Being, and to
alienate the affections of creation from its Maker? Let the history
of the earth answer.  All our evils began in that unhappy moment
when our first parents lost their confidence in their God.  " Loss
of Eden," toil, sweat, despair, perplexity, and death, tell what
the evil was.  Calamities have rolled along in black and angry
sulrgcs and the dark flood still swells and heaves upon the earth.




460               TIIE  WAY OF SALVATION.
Peace will be restored, and Paradise regainecd, only w1hen man is
restored to confidence in his God; and this is the grand and
glorious work of the gospel.  This done in any heart, and its
"peace becomes as a river, and its righteousness as the waves
of the sea."   This done all over the earth, and millennial joy
will visit the nations.  This done, as successive individuals or
generations leave the world, and death is disarmed of his sting,
for the departing soul leans with full assurance of faith on the
Saviour.




SERMON XXXVI.
THE BEARING AND IMPORTANCE OF THE DOCTRINE OF
JUSTIFICATION BY FAITH.
Roa. i. 17.-_" The just shall live by faith."
FROM these words I desire to illustrate the bearing and the importance of the doctrine of justification by faith.  The points
which have been illustrated in the previous discourses are the
following:-The importance of the inquiry, How man can be
justified with God; the fact that man cannot justify or vindicate
himself by denying the truth of the charges against him; the
fact that he cannot do it by showing that he had a right to do
as he has done; the fact that he cannot merit salvation; the
consideration of what is to be understood by the merits of Christ;
the sense in which we are justified by the merits of Christ; and
the agency of faith in our justification. It is proposed now, in the
conclusion of the subject, to refer to some historical illustrations
of the value and influence of the doctrine of justification by faith,
and to show why it has the place which history has assigned it.
I. In illustrating the value and infjuence of the doctrine as
shown by history, three periods of the world may be briefly
referred to.
(1.) The first is, the age of the apostles-when, perhaps, the
effect of the doctrine of justification by faith was more vividly
seen than it has ever been since.  That this was the doctrine
which Paul preached, which he made prominent in his writings,
and which he everywhere defended, no one acquainted with his
history can for a moment doubt. It would be needless here to
transcribe the passages of his writings which declare his views
on this point, or which show how earnestly he expressed his
convictions of its truth and importance. Everywhere he maintained that a man is not justified by the deeds of the law, but
by the righteousness of faith; that we are saved, not by works
of righteousness which we have done; that they that are under
the law, are under the curse; and that they who are justified by
faith, have peace with God through the Lord Jesus Christ. In
the most earnest and emphatic manner he abjured all dependence
on his own merits for salvation; disclaimed all reliance on the




462             THE WAY OF SALVATION.
extraordinary zeal for religion which he had manifested in early
life, and on his own blameless outward deportment; and declared it now to be the grand purpose of his soul to " know
Christ, and to be found in him, not having his own righteousness, which was of the law, but the righteousness which is of
God by faith," Phil. iii. 9. In this, he coincided with all the
other apostles, who taught as he did, that no reliance was to
be placed on outward forms of religion, on good works, on an
amiable character, or on alms, as the ground of salvation.  It
was then that the doctrine of simple dependence on Christ for
salvation went forth with freshness and with power.  It was
unencumbered by any attending doctrine of a different character
to fetter its movements, or to hinder its progress through the
world. There was no necessity proclaimed of depending on rites
or forms of religion; no reverence for sacred places was inculcated
as necessary to salvation; no connexion with a particular church,
organized under a peculiar ministry, was declared to be essential;
no saving efficacy was attributed to sacraments and to alms; no
merits of the holy men of other ages could be looked to, to make
up the deficiency of those who sought to be saved; no promise
was held out that the dead might be saved through the extraordinary sacrifices and benevolence of the living. The naked
doctrine of justification by faith in Christ stood out before the
world, fresh in its youthful vigour, with no trappings or ornaments to hide and obscure it; a simple, solemn, sublime truth,
that all might appreciate, and that might be available to all.
This was then the sword of the Spirit, slaying human pride;
cutting down the self-righteousness of men; prostrating the great
and the mean, the learned and the unlearned, the patrician and
the plebeian, the master and the slave, the man in purple and
the man in rags, alike-a sword, whose keenness was not rendered useless then by being hid in a gorgeous scabbard.
The doctrine thus promulgated by the apostles stood opposed
to the prevailing views of all the world. It was opposed to all
the aims of the Pharisees-the essential tenet of whose religion
was expressed graphically and honestly by one of their own
number-" God, I thank thee that I am not as other men are."
It stood opposed to all the views of the Sadducees, who held to
the necessity of no kind of religion, denying the whole doctrine
of the future state. It stood opposed to the Essenes. the remaining Jewish sect, who sought to work out their salvation by
extraordinary fastings and privations, and by exclusion from
contact with the world. It stood opposed to the whole system
of sacrifices among the heathen, who sought to propitiate the gods,




JUSTIFICATION  BY FAITH.                 463
and to render themselves accepted, by dependence on the forms
of religion; and it was at variance with all the views of philosophy-the pride of the Stoic, confident in his own righteousness; the licentiousness of the Epicurean, justifying his own
voluptuousness; and the self-complacency of the sage, relying
on his own wisdom. An apostle could go nowhere, where this
doctrine would not come in conflict with all the prevailing views
in regard to the way in which men might be saved. Yet no one
now can be ignorant of the effect of this doctrine, as promulgated by the apostles. This it was which changed the religion of
the world; for Christianity made no other advances than as it
taught men to renounce every other ground of dependence, and to
rely for salvation solely on the merits of the Lord Jesus Christ.
It had no martial power by which to make its way; it had no
influence derived from name and rank to enforce its claims; it
had no authority derived from a venerable antiquity on which to
rely; it had no gorgeous and imposing forms to enable it to command the respect of those who had worshipped in the Parthenon
or the Pantheon; it had no claims to any new discoveries in philosophy. It had but one thing that was new, great, improving,
commanding; and that was the announcement of Christ crucified, and the fact that men everywhere might now be justified
by the merits of His atoning blood.  Never has any truth on
any subject stood more by itself, to make its own way without
adventitious aid, than this did in the hands of the Christian
apostles; and never before had any simple truth on any subject
produced such changes in the world.
(2.) The second fact to which reference will be made, is the
state of the world when the doctrine of justification by faith
was obscured and almost extinguished in the Church. It soon
began to be obscured. Very early the professed friends of religion began to lose sight of it. So strong in the human mind is
the love of pomp and ceremony and form, so attached is man to
splendour and show in religion as in everything else, so prone
is the heart to rely on its own doings, and so reluctant is the
sinner everywhere to depend for salvation on the righteousness
of another, that this doctrine gradually died away, and almost
ceased to be remembered in the church.  Then arose the system
which spread night all over the Christian world-the night of
ignorance, error, superstition, and crime,-a night deepening for
ages, till it terminated in the consummate depravity of the
Papacy under Alexander VI.  Amid this forgetfulness of the
doctrine of justification by faith, or of salvation by simple dependence on Christ crucified, arose the universal respect for




464              THE WAY OF SALVATION.
sacred places and orders of men; zeal for splendid temples of
worship, and for gorgeous ceremonies; extraordinary veneration
for the sepulchres of saints, and for their holy remains; pilgrimages to the Holy Land; the doctrine of baptismal regeneration,
and of absolution of sins by the imposition of holy hands; the
belief that grace was imparted by sacraments, administered by a
priesthood; the doctrine that the merits of the saints of other
days were garnered up for the benefit of future ages, and placed
at the disposal of the Church; the multiplication of sacraments,
with saving efficacy attributed to them all; and the belief of a
peculiar sacredness attached to ground consecrated to the burial
of the dead. All these were features of one great system. They
had some relation to Christianity, and had grown in part out
of the abuse of its doctrines.  But though various, they were
arranged evidently under the auspices of one master-mind, and
with the same end in view. That was to render nugatory the
doctrine of justification by faith, and to substitute in its place
the doctrine of salvation by works. It was, indeed, salvation by
works connected with the religion of Christ, and was a different
system from that of the Pharisee, who expected to be saved by
conformity to the law of Moses,-or the Grecian philosopher, who
hoped to reach heaven by the purity of his doctrine and his
inorals, —or the degraded Pagan, who relied on the blood of sacrifices,-or the man now who relies on his own honesty and fidelity
in the various relations of life; but it was essentially the same
system. It excluded the simple dependence of the soul on the
Lord Jesus for salvation, and substituted in its stead a reliance
on human merit.
The effect was seen in the darkness, sin, and corruption of
Europe before the Reformation.  Every feature of the state of
things in the " dark ages" can be traced to an obscuring of the
great doctrine of justification by faith. Every advance of society
into that deep and deepening gloom was connected with some
loosening of its hold on that doctrine, and the substitution of
something else in its place, until the hold was entirely gone, and
Europe was plunged in total night.
(3.) The third historical fact, therefore, to be referred to, is
the effect which the recovery and restoration of this doctrine
had on the church and the world at the period of the Reformation. To those who have studied the history of that period, as
all Protestants should do, it is unnecessary to say that this was
the elementary doctrine-the central view-the starting-point in
the whole of that glorious revolution. This was the great truth
which dawned on the mind of Luther, and which led to all that




JUSTIFICATION  BY FAITH.                  4G65
he attempted and accomplished for the restoration of the Church
to its primitive purity; and it occupied an equally central position in the view of all his fellow-labourers.  Three times was
the doctrine of justification by faith brought before the mind of
Luther, with the same sort of power which it had when promulgated by the apostles, and with such energy as to rouse all
that was great in his soul into life. The first was when he was
a monk in his cell. He had found a copy of the Bible, and he
began to study it, and to lecture on it. He commenced with
the Psalms, but soon passed to the Epistle to the Romans. One
day, having proceeded as far as the seventeenth verse of the first
chapter, the words quoted from Habakkuk, " The just shall live
by faith," arrested his attention. A new thought struck him.
A new way of salvation opened before his mind. A new light
pShone upon his heart; and the words, " The just shall live by
faith," seemed never to leave him.  The second instance was
when he first visited Rome.  These words followed him, and
lingered on his ear.  One of his first impressions was, that he
was now in the very place to which Paul had addressed these
words in his epistle. Yet in that city how were they obscured
and unknown!  On every hand were arrangements for being
justified by works —by forms and ceremonies, by pomp and
pageantry, by the merits of the saints, and by penance. What
a total obscuration of the great doctrine which Paul had taught
in the letter to the church there, and which he had himself doubtless taught when he had dwelt in that city!  The
third instance in which these words were brought to the heart
of Luther was more impressive still.  "One day, wishing to
obtain an indulgence promised by the pope to any one who
should ascend on his knees what is called' Pilate's Staircase,'
the poor Saxon monk was slowly climbing the steps, which they
told him had been miraculously transported from Jerusalem to
Itome. But while he was going through this meritorious work,
he thought he heard a voice like thunder speaking from  the
depth of his heart-' I'he just shall live by faith!'  He started
up in terror on the steps up which he had been crawling; he
was horrified at himself; and struck with shame for the degradation to which superstition had debased him, he fled from the
scene of his folly. This powerful text had a mysterious influence
on the life of Luther. It was a creative word for the Reformer
and for the Reformation."*  It was this truth that wrought out
the Reformation;and whatever there was in that work that is
valuable and precious, whatever there was to shed a benign
~ D'Aubigne.




466              THE WAY OF SALVATION.
influence on literature, liberty, and morals, whatever there was
to spread pure religion over Switzerland, or Germany, or England, or ultimately over our own land, and then by a reflex
influence on Asia Minor, on Palestine, on the palmy East, on
dark Africa, and on the islands of the sea, is to be traced to those
moments when this text broke with so much living power on the
soul of Luther-" The just shall live by faith."  It became with
him an elementary truth, that the doctrine of justification by
faith was the " article of the standing or the falling Church"the very joint or hinge (articulus) on which the whole depended.*
To that doctrine we owe, in its various developments, all that
we value in this Protestant land, and all that distinguishes us
in religion from what Europe was in the days of Alexander VI.
and Leo X.; and there is not an interest of religion, liberty, or
learning, which has not been moulded by it more. than by any
other single cause.  Our modes of worship; our readiness to
spread the Bible; our freedom of discussion; our general diffusion of intelligence; our untrammelled press; our separation of
religion from the state; our societies for the spread of the gospel;
our blessed and glorious revivals; our deliverance from superstition, and from the tyranny of a priesthood, and from  the corruptions and abominations of the monastic system, and from the
debasement of penances and pilgrimages, are all to be traced to
the power of this single truth that blazed with such an intensity
on the soul of the poor Saxon monk.  Such being some of the
facts in the case, let us,
II. In the second place, inquire why this doctrine has this
importance and power.  This will be seen if we can trace its
connexion with what undeniably it has been everywhere united
to:-a religion of deep spirituality, of simplicity of worship, of
deadness to the world, of freedom of opinion, of liberal views,
and of great and cheerful sacrifices for the good of mankind.
There are but two systems of religion on the earth: the one is
that of self-righteousness; the other, that of salvation by the
merits of Christ;-the one, that of men who attempt, in various
ways, to justify themselves before God; the other, that of those
who seek to be justified through the righteousness of the Redeemer. The bearing and importance of the latter, in contrast
with the former, is the point now before us.
(1.) This doctrine of justification by faith has a power of
reaching the soul, and of calling forth every active energy of
our nature, which the other system never can have. It leaves
the impression, that the soul is of vast value; that religion is of
" 4. Articulus stantis vel eadentis ecclesie."




JUSTIFICATION  BY FAITH.                  467
inestimable importance; that the grand purpose of living should
be religion.  The reason of this, which may not at once be
apparent, is, that it finds the soul in such a state, wherever it is
embraced, that it arouses all that is thrilling, and vast, and
momentous in the soul itself, and in its hopes and relations. The
language which the doctrine of justification by faith addresses
to each individual is this:-" You are a lost sinner.  You have
no righteousness of your own. You never will have any. Your
heart is by nature depraved, and your whole past life has been
evil. In all that you have done, you have done nothing to merit
the favour of God, or even to commend yourself to his approbation. All your righteousness is as filthy rags. All your outward
forms of religion-your fastings, penances, and vows, your amiableness of character, your honesty, your integrity, your pride of
birth and station, are all to pass for nothing before God in the
matter of justification.  Nor can you hope of yourself to do anything more in the future that will commend you to God than
you have done in the past.  No form of religion, no flood of
tears, no framing of the life by an outward law, no acts of
self-denial, no fastings, prayers, or almsgivings, can wipe away
the deep stains of past guilt on the soul, or constitute an expiation for what you have done. In this state you are near the
grave, and just over the world of woe.  A moment might cut
you off from the land of the living, and from the possibility of
being saved.  In this state you are wholly dependent on the
sovereign mercy of God. You may be saved, but not by works
of righteousness of your own. You may be saved, but it must
be by renouncing all dependence on your own righteousness for
ever.  You may be saved, but it must be wholly by the merits
of another. Kings, sages, philosophers, priests, poets, warriors,
knights, senators, judges; the gay, the accomplished, the rich,
the poor, the vile, the bond, the free,-all lie on a level before
God. You may be saved, but it will only be by making up the
mind to a willingness to be saved in the same way as the vilest
of the species, and to stand before the throne clothed in the same
robes of salvation that shall adorn the most debased and downtrodden of the human race."  Now it is easy to conceive, even
for those who have not experienced this, that such a religion
must have the elements of great power of some kind. It can
make its way only by sufficient power to crush the pride of
man; to bring down his lofty thoughts; to humble him in the
dust; and then to impart life where there has been none. There
is nothing negative and tame about it. It has living energy
through all this process. No man reaches the position of self



468              THE WAY OF SALVATION.
abasement and self-renunciation, where this doctrine finds him,
without a struggle with his own pride.  To come down there,
and to lie thus low before God, is the result of mighty power on a
proud man's soul, and is no neutral or unmeaning thing.  It is
not the work of ease, and of effeminacy, and the business of a
holiday, for a man to renounce all his own righteousness, and to
be willing to acknowledge before heaven, and earth, and hell,
that he is so great a sinner that he ought to be excluded from
heaven, and banished from  the earth, and be doomed to unspeakable torments for ever in the world of.woe.  And it is not
an unmeaning thing, when in this state a voice from heaven bids
him rise fioml the dust, and go forth a pardoned man, a renovated being, a child of God, an heir of heaven.
Accordingly, this is the doctrine which arouses the world.  It
was this which produced the commotions in the apostolic times,
when it was said, " These that have turned the world upside down
are come hither also."  It was this which produced so much
excitement at Jerusalelm, at Antioch, at Philippi.  It was this
which aroused Europe in the Reformation.  It is this whose
power is seen in every revival of religion.  It is this whose
energy is felt in the efforts made to carry religion around the
globe.
To illustrate what has been now said, reference may be made
to the case of two individuals, who have stated the effect of this
doctrine' on their own minds.  The first is that of the apostle
Paul.  It is found in the Epistle to the Philippians:-" If any
other man thinketh that he hath whereof he might trust in the
flesh, I more: circumcised the eighth day, of the stock of Israel,
of the tribe of Benjamin, an Hebrew of the Hebrews; as touching
the law, a Pharisee; concerning zeal, persecuting the church;
touching the righteousness which is in the law, blameless.  But
what things were gain to me, those. counted loss for Christ.
Yea, doubtless, and I count all thlz/s but loss, for the excellency
of the knzowlede of Christ Jesus?my Lord," ch. iii. 4-8.  The
other is Luther's record of his own  feeling's when  he was
first made to understand this doctrine.'" Though as a nionk,"
says he,   I was holy and irreproachable, my conscience was
still filled with'trouble and torment.  I could not endure the
expression —' The righteous justice of God.' I did not love that
just and holy Being who punishes sinners.  I felt a secret anlger
against him; I hated him, because, not satisfied with telriiFying
by his law and by the miseries of life poor creatures already
ruined by original sin, he aggravated our sufferings by the gospel.
But when by the Spirit of God I understood these words-when




JUSTIFICATION  BY FAITH.                    469
I learned how the justification of the sinner proceeds from God's
mere mercy by the way of faith-then I felt myself born again
as a new man, and I entered by an open door into the very
paradise of God. From  that hour I saw the precious and holy
Scriptures with new eyes.  I went through the whole Bible.
I collected a multitude of passages which taught me what the
work of God was.  And as I had before heartily hated the
expression,'the righteousness of God,' I began from  that time
to value and to love it as the sweetest and most consolatory
truth.  Truly this text of St. Paul was to me as the very gate
of heaven."'
To a soul thus lost and ruined this doctrine always has this
power.  To others it has neither power nor beauty; nor can we
hope that it will make its way among men except where the
soul is deeply aroused on the subject of religion. Then it is
what it is so often said to be in the Scriptures, " the power of
God:" it is His mighty energy quickening the soul that was
dead in sin to newness of life.
(2.) The second remark illustrating its bearing and importance
will be drawn from  the contrast of this doctrine with  the
opposite. It has already been observed, that there are in fact
but two kinds of religion on the earth-that of self-righteousness,
and that of dependence on another for salvation; that in which
man attempts to justify himself, and that in which he relies for
justification on the merits of the Son of God.  These systems
divide the world; for, however numerous may be the methods by
which men attempt to save themselves, they all have this essential characteristic, that they are systems of self-righteousness.
What are the characteristics of these two systems? What would
be the tendency of each of them?  Let them be put in contrast,
and what must be their respective effects?  The effect of the
one-of the plan of justification by faith-we have already in
part seen.  Its obvious tendency must be to produce humility,
penitence, gratitude, a simple reliance on the Saviour, a disposition to make him all in all in religion. What are the effects of
the opposite system?  They must be such as these:
(a) Pride.  " God, I thank thee that I am not as other men
are," is its language all over the world.
(b) A multiplication of forms, and a reliance on them.  Religion becomes an outwardt thing, not a work of the heart.  So it
was with the Pharisees, the Greeks, the Romans; so it is now
in the Pagan world, among Mussulmans, and in all the perverted
forms of Christianity. It matters little what the outward system
* D'Aubigne.




470              THE WAY  OF SALVATION.
is; where the doctrine of justification is obscured or unknown,
religion must degenerate into heartless forms.  It makes up for
its want of vital power by the multiplication of rites and ceremonies.  It adds a new  ceremony for every step of departure
from the doctrine of justification by faith; it attaches an additional sacredness to externals as this doctrine is obscured; and
where this is wholly lost out of view, religion becomes merely a
punctilious performance of imposing rites, a careful observance
of forms. A man, when he thinks of death and the judgment,
must have some righteousness on which to rely.  If it be not
that of the Saviour, and if there be the pretence of religion at all,
it must be that consisting of a sacred reverence for forms.
(c) The denial of the doctrine of justification by faith will be
always attended with superstition.  There will be an attempt to
merit heaven by reverencing dead men's bones, by pilgrimages,
by bodily tortures, by seclusion from the world, by garnishing
the sepulchres of the righteous, and by imploring the intercession
of departed saints.  The world must make up its mind to have
the doctrine of justification by faith held in its purity, or to
have a religion of superstition substituted in its place.  One or
the other has prevailed always; one has always excluded the
other; the suppression of the one has been the occasion of the
introduction of the other; and one or the other will live to the
end of time.  The question is now before this country, whether
we shall hold on to the great doctrine of justification by faith, or
whether we shall go abroad and import all the superstitions of
heathenism, either original or baptized at Rome; whether we
shall adhere to the grand truth which was the element in the
Reformation, or take Christianity, so called, as it was in the
days of Alexander VI. and Leo X.
(d) The system  which denies this doctrine has been from
some cause an exclusive and a persecuting system.  To whatever
this fact may be traced, of the fact itself there can be no doubt.
The history of the world has confirmed it, and that history has
taught us that if we would be free froom the evils of an exclusive
and a persecuting system, we must hold in its simplicity and its
purity the great doctrine of justification by faith.
(3.) A third thing illustrating its bearing and importance is
its connexion with freedom  of thought and the advancement
of society.  The fact here is more apparent than the reason
of it. No one acquainted with history will dispute the position, that the doctrine of justification by faith has been held
with the most simplicity and purity in the times when freedom
of thought has most prevailed, and in the lands most chlarac



JUSTIFICATION BY FAITH.                   471
terized for it. And no one can doubt that the denial of the
doctrine, and the denial of the right of free inquiry, have gone
together. It was the same system  that by all its arrangements denied the doctrine of justification by faith, which imprisoned Galileo. The Inquisition grew up in lands where this
doctrine was rejected, and has flourished there only, and could
live nowhere else. The proclamation of this doctrine in Europe
by Luther and his fellow-labourers unfettered the human mind,
and abolished the Inquisition; and nothing can be clearer than
that no circumstances could ever arise in any land in which the
doctrine of justification by simple faith in Christ is held, under
which the Inquisition could be established; and we may be certain
that, as long as we can assert this doctrine in its purity throughout
all our borders, we shall be free from thumb-screws, and racks,
and auto-da-fes, and dark dungeons made to incarcerate the
advocates of any religious belief. Whatever else we may be
subjected to, this doctrine will be a palladium to us of far more
value than the image of Minerva was to Troy, to secure for us
the protection of Heaven.
The reasons of the fact which is now adverted to would be
found in such considerations as these: —that in this doctrine
there is nothing which we wish to conceal; that it depends for
its support on nothing which may not be fully examined; that
it recognises everywhere the equality of men; that it asks no
patronage from the State; that it relies for its advancement on
its own simple power as truth-as commending itself to the
conscience and the reason of mankind, and as finding a response
in the soul of every man who feels that he is a sinner. The
support of the other system is to be found in just the opposite of
these things. It cloaks itself in mystery. It seeks to establish
the claims of a priesthood composed of a superior order of menand this must be based on arguments that will not bear the
light. It is, and must be, sustained by the power of the State.
It loves a teaching rather than a reasoning religion.  It is
identified with all that human ingenuity can devise to substitute
a righteousness in the place of that by faith in the Saviour.  It
is identified with interest-where the procuring of absolution
becomes a matter of bargain and sale. And it is conscious that
the free examination of its claims would show how baseless is the
fabric on which it stands, and how worthless all the devices
which have been originated to enable man to work out a righteousness of his own. Without pursuing these thoughts further,
one other remark may be added:(4.) It is the fourth in order, and is this, that the doctrine of
31




472             THE WAY OP SALVATION,
justification by faith is connected with liberality in religion. We
have seen what is the character, in this respect, of the opposite
system. It is essential to every other system that it be illiberal
and exclusive.  The reason is this:-According to every such
system, grace is conveyed only through a certain channel.
T'here are certain men who alone are appointed to dispense it; it
is to be obtained only in union with a certain ecclesiastical
connexion, and in the performance of certain specified rites and
ceremonies.  But none of these things are essential to the
doctrine of justification by faith.  It is a direct concern between
the soul and its Saviour. It practically removes every human
being from  any participation in obtaining for the sinner the
favour of God. However the ministers of religion may have
been instrumental in arousing the attention of the soul to its
guilt and danger, or in pointing the way to the Cross, yet the
transaction is one where all foreign agency and all human
holiness of office are excluded. It matters not whether the
minister officiates with or without a surplice; whether in a plain
"meeting-house" or a magnificent cathedral; whether he can
trace his commission through the apostolic succession or not;
whether his doctrines can or cannot be sustained by synods and
councils; nay, whether there be any minister of religion at all;
the soul may be justified by simple faith in the Lord Jesus.
The worshipper may be a Cameronian on the hills of Scotland
under the open heaven; or a man who has strayed somehow
into a conventicle; or a wandering savage who is made to listen,
to attend, to be enraptured, till his eyes pour forth tears under
the preaching of some humble missionary on whose head the
hands of a mitred prelate have never been laid,-and there
shall be all the elements of the doctrine of justification. What
has occurred to him on the hills, or in the woods, or in a schoolhouse, or in a church, he feels may occur anywhere else in the
same way. It will not then become essential,'in his view, that
the doctrines of religion should be preached on a hill, or in a
valley; that the minister stand in front of a tent, or that he
serve at a particular altar; that he wear a certain vestment, or
be able to trace his spiritual genealogy back to far-distant times.
That which he wishes to know  is, whether a man has experienced in his own soul what he has in his-the power
of the doctrine of justification by faith in the blood of Jesus.
If so, that is enough. It is to him a question of comparatively
no moment whether such an one thinks  that baptism  by
immersion is the only method; or whether he regards John
Wesley as the greatest and the best of men; or whether he




JUSTIFICATION  BY FAITH.                    473
believes that all human wisdom  was embodied in the Westminster assembly of divines; or whether he thinks that the
ministry exists only in three orders. All these will be comparative trifles.  The grand matter is, that the lost and guilty
soul is justified by the blood of the " everlasting covenant;" and
this settles everything that is truly valuable in his view  in
regard to the salvation of the soul. Such a system, it is clear,
must be essentially liberal.  It cannot be a system  which will
be primarily concerned in " questions and strifes of words"
about the externals of religion. It will recognise in every man,
who has ever felt the efficacy of the blood of Christ, a Christian
brother.  It will regard all men by nature as essentially on the
same level in reference to salvation.  There will be, in the
matter of religion, no favoured class, no holy order; none by
nature nearer heaven than others, and none who shall have a
right to prescribe to others what they are to believe or to do.
One point, one grand doctrine distinguishes them,-no matter of
what sect, or country, or complexion they may be,-that they
are redeemed by the blood of the same Saviour.  They are of
the same family.  They have the same rights in the kingdom of
grace.  No one has a right, in virtue of blood, or name, or
connexion with outward forms of religion, to claim  a superior
nearness to heaven; nor, if the soul is justified by the blood of
Jesus, has any believer the right or the disposition to withhold
the name of Christian, or to say that a soul thus justified is left
to " the uncovenanted mercies of God."
The doctrine which has been considered constitutes the peculiarity of the Protestant religion.  Protestantism  began in the
restoration of the doctrine of justification by faith.  This, more
than anything else, distinguishes the system.  All there is of
Protestantism that is of value, is in this doctrine; and all that
we have of liberality in religion, and freedom from  persecution,
and purity of doctrine, is to be traced to this.
The whole discussion on the doctrine of justification may be
closed by a personal appeal.  There are but two ways conceivable in which you can be saved.  One is, on the ground of
your own righteousness; the other is, on the ground of the
righteousness of the Lord Jesus.  There is no middle way.  The
grand question, then, and one in which every individual has the
deepest interest, is, What is the ground of your reliance?  On
which of these do you depend, when you think of being admitted
to heaven?  If you rely on the former,-on your own righteousness,-it must be either because you can disprove the facts which
are charged on you as sin; or because, if the facts are undeniable,




474              THE WAY  OF SALVATION.
you will be able to vindicate your conduct before the bar of the
Almighty.  Here, then, it may be solemnly asked, whether you
are willing to rest your soul's interests on such a foundation?
Are you prepared to abide the issue of such a trial?  Can you
calmly look forward to such an investigation of your life before
God's bar, and feel secure when you think how tremendous the
interests of the soul that are at stake?  Are you prepared to go
up to meet your Maker with the feeling that your only hope
there is self-vindication? I AM NOT. I turn to the other system
which I have endeavoured to set before you.  I look away from
all that I have done,-the miserable rags of my own righteousness,-to the white robe of salvation wrought out by my great
Redeemer, and seek to wrap that robe around my guilty soul;
and I feel that, if justified by faith in his blood, I shall be safe.
A guilty, weak, and helpless worm,
On Thy kind arms I fall;
Be Thou my strength and righteousness,
My Saviour and my all.
THE EBND.