ELEMENTS
OF
M1ORAL PHILOSOPHY;
ANALYTICAL,
SYNTHETICAL, AND PRACTICAL.
BY
HUBBARD WINSLOW,
AUTHOR OF INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY.
NEW YORK:
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY.
LONDON: 16 LITTLE BRITAIN.
1856.
'i7
....,...i 
Entered according to Act of C(,ngress, in the year 1856,
BY  D. APPLETON  &  CO.,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern
District of New York. 
PREFACE.
THE cause of morals has its stronghold in man's innate
consciousness of responsibility. Mammon is enshrined in
his lust of gain, power in his pride of dominion, fame in
his thirst of applause, and pleasure in his sensual desire;
hence the dependence of all these is capricious, and their
rewards are at the best transient; while morality reposes,
with calm and eternal assurance, in his imperishable conviction that he is responsible for his conduct. Against
this conviction infidelity arrays its arguments, and vice
hurls its scorn in vain.
Morality, as a science, is so implicated with psychology,
that it cannot be erected symmetrical and entire without
its aid; but as a practice, it can rise without that aid even
to its culmen. No systematic psychology is taught in the
Bible, yet the highest practical morality is taught there.
Metaphysics and logic are also of service in the erection
and defence of its outposts, especially "when  Greek
meets Greek;" but, unless obedient to the high behests 
PREFACE.
of consciousness, they become little else than troublesome
cobwebs.   The feeble and the unwary are frequently
caught in their meshes, but the snare is at length broken
and the victims escape.
It seems to have been a prevailing error of the theorizing mioralist, that, instead of taking his stand-point directly and centrally in man's consciousness of freedom
and accountability, and making metaphysics and logic
subservient to him in that position, he has first entrenched
himself behind metaphysical speculations and logical deductions, and then called upon consciousness to yield to
their requirements. He has thus given the dominion to
the wrong master; he has placed his cause in the wrong
hands. In the gossamery subtleties of speculative and
transcendental metaphysics, the learned Brahmans of India
excel all other philosophers; they even out-German the
Germans. Yet we find ]ittle in Brahminical lore that is
truthful and actual; little that renders man really wiser
and better.
The general nature of the present work may be hence
anticipated by the reader. It is throughout a direct and
confiding appeal to his conscious sense of accountability.
It presents to him no wire-drawn arguments, no metaphysical subtleties, and no complicated deductions of
logic.  Its proofs are mostly s(atements of undeniable
truths, sometimes attended with illustration, and confidently submitted to his practical judgment and conscience.
It is because the central law of conviction and belief
is essentially the same in all minds, and because all men
4 
PREFACE.
are endowed with a consciousness of moral obligation,
that the Bible, although written at different periods and
in every variety of composition and style, is reasonably
addressed to all classes alike; that it has demonstrated its
power to withstand every assault, and with firm and yet
firmer voice, as time rolls along, continues to challenge
the undoubting homage of the world. As the present
volume is restricted within the legitimate limits of moral
science, it does not profess to teach religion; yet whatever philosophy it teaches, if true, must htarmonize with
religious truth. If, then, our philosophy shall be found at
variance with the Bible, or shall tend to mystify and
enfeeble its plain and nervous demands upon every heart
and conscience, it will deservedly come to naught, with
all other'" philosophy falsely so called."
It will be the author's humble endeavor to disintegrate
and define the materials for the work in hand, to eliminate the principles by which to arrange them, and to reconstruct them in a system of scientific and practical
morality, without embarrassing the reader with conflicting
theories and speculations, but by a direct "manifestation
of the truth, commending" it " to every man's conscience
in the sight of God." The apostles commended themselves
to the consciences of men, not -less by the directness of
their appeals than by the purity of their lives.
This volume was promised by the writer, some years
since, in the preface of his Intellectual Philosophy. Contrary to his intention, that volume has passed through
several editions without its promised accompaniment.
5 
PREFACE.
The delay has been occasioned by his ill health and absence in Europe, and his desire to make the book as
worthy of the public as possible. So grave and difficult
a work could not be safely hurried. Great consideration
was due to the many able writers upon this subject. No
pains have been spared to examine them in their own
languages, at least upon all doubtful or critical points,
and to give due weight to their various reasonings and
opinions.
Having thus bestowed upon the work much careful
thought and research, more than is obvious to persons not
conversant with studies of this nature, the author now respectfully submits it to teachers, students, and all thoughtful inquirers after truth and duty, with the hope that it
may meet their approbation, and may contribute something towards assisting the reader to understand and to
fulfil his responsible mission.
That the young reader especially, whose life is still
mostly in prospect, whether hastening to the calls of
business and of domestic care, or aspiring to the higher
walks of literature and of the learned professions, may
not, by a perversion or neglect of his powers and opportunities, allow that existence to sink into an essentially
grovelling and worthless affair, which he ought to make
sublime and glorious, is the earnest desire and prayer of
his very sincere friend,
THE AUTHOR.
6 
CONTENTS.
INTRODUCTION,..
PART I.
THE NATURAL MOTIVE POWERS.
CHAPTER I.-DIVISION OF THE MENTAL POWERS.
The mental powers and exercises divisible into two general classes. Their mutual
dependence. The motive powers of two kinds. Each kind defined. The states
and exercises of the motive powers, natural or moral.  Illustrations,..  21
CHAPTER II.-NATURAL APPETITE.
Two natural appetites. Their object. Errors respecting them. Undue indulgence.
Undue severity. Their relation to pleasure. Illustrations. Design of the gifts
of Providence,..........  82
CHAPTER III.-MORBID APPETITE.
Diseased by nature. Vitiated in childhood. Injured by indulgence, bad example,
false association of ideas, wanton imagination, recklessness of the future. End of
such indulgence.  Rules for controlling appetite,.....  43
CHAPTER IV.-NATURAL AFFECTION.
Distinction between affection and desire; between natural and moral affecti
rental affection; filial; fraternal; conjugal.   General view of the domes
tions.  Social affection.  Patriotism,...
CHAPTER V.-NATURAL DESIRE.
Distinction between desire and appetite. Desire of life; of happiness; of society;
of knowledge; of esteem; of owning; of power.  The designs of the Creator
learned from our constitutional powers,......6
.. 6
PAGE
. 18
. 52 
CONTENTS.
PAGE
CHAPTER VI.-NATURAL EMOTION.
Various emotions.  How designated.  Emotions of beauty; of sublimity; of terror;
of the ludicrous; of surprise and wonder. Simultaneous Emotions. Objective
causes of emotion. Unclassified emotions. Distinction between emotion and
affection; between emotion and desire,......  83
CHAPTER VII.-NATURAL VOLITION.
When volition is strictly natural. Distinction between volition and rational will.
Natural agency of volition over the body. Voluntary, semivoluntary, and invol   untary movements.  Agency of volition over the intellectual powers,..  95
PART II.
THE RATIONAL MOTIVE POWERS.
CHAPTER I.-CONSCIENCE.
Terms indicating duty in all languages. Intellect concerned in ascertaining duty;
conscience in securing the performance of it. Intuition or pure reason; appre   hends the first truths of all sciences.  Definition of conscience.   Not a simple
mental faculty or moral sense. Includes the reason and the susceptibility to
moral distinctions.  Has three functions,...... 108
CHAPTER  II.-VARIOUS VEWS  OF CONSCIENCE.
Not a moral judgment. Not a moral sense. Not a teacher, like the senses, but must
itself be taught. Tendencies of the different views. Disastrous effects of making
an unreasonable conscience a guide. We ought always to obey conscience; also
to enlighten it, so as to act reasonably. How men should be incited to duty,. 116
CHAPTER III.-DIRECTIONS FOR THE CULTURE OF CONSCIENCE.
Enlighten the understanding. Have singleness of purpose. Mistake not other im   pulses for it. Do no violence to scruples. Obey it promptly. Obedience must
be determined and persistent. Often review the past. In view of failures repent
and reform. Be grateful for success. The demands of conscience must never be
resisted,........... 129
CHAPTER IV.-TASTE.
Definition. Man without taste. Conscience and taste combined. Their compara   tive importance. Illustrations. Every person has his own ideal of beauty. The
ideal in advance of the executive ability. Taste independent of the outer world.
Examples.  Design of taste.  Culture of it,...... 138
CHAPTER V.-WILL.
What we mean by will. In what sense acts of will are caused. The law of cause and
effect in the moral world unlike that in the natural. Occasional and efficient
8 
CONTENTS.
PAGE
causes. How the will is determined. Objective and subjective motives. Distinction between the will and the affections. View of Edwards. The will may
resist the affections; also the other feelings. When acts of will are rational and
responsible,........ 152
PART III.
MORAL ACTION.
CHAPTER I.-MORALLY RIGHT AFFECTION.
Defined. What it includes. Love a right affection. Instinctive in its origin. Con   science commends it. Christianity enjoins it. The affection due to God. Right
domestic affections. Conjugal love; parental; filial; fraternal. Right social
affection.  Right affection for bad men;  for enemies.  Philanthropy,..  165
CHAPTER II.-MORALLY WRONG AFFECTION.
Views of Reid and others.  Malevolence never right.  We do not need it. True self   defence. Instinctive and deliberate resentment. We were not made to hate.
Malevolent affection in every form condemned by Christianity,... 182
CHAPTER  III. —MORALLY RIGHT DESIRE.
Of two kinds. Self-love. What it includes. Desire for the welfare of others should
embrace all mankind. Views of infidel writers. Morality and Christianity agree.
Various developments of benevolent desire,....  195
CHAPTER IV.-MORALLY WRONG DESIRE.
Distinction between retaliation and self-defence. Covetousness. When desires are
covetous.  When the desire of pleasure is wrong.  Emulation.  Views of Butler,
Reid, and others. Remarks upon them. Concessions of the advocates of rivalry, 296
CHAPTER V.-MORALLY RIGHT EMOTION.
Passionate emotion; when right. Emotion of love; of sympathy; of forgiveness;
of gratitude; of penitence; of humility; of confidence; of self-approbation,. 226
CHAPTER VI.-MORALLY WRONG EMOTION.
Emotion of hatred never right  Emotion of anger; of revenge; of envy; of pride;
ofjealousy; of remorse; of despair,...... 238
CHAPTER VII.-MORALLY RIGHT WILL.
Moral will defined.  Agency of will over the appetites; over the affections; over the
desires; over the emotions. Moral certainty does not impair freedom. Courage.
Fortitude.  Firmness,......... 24T
9 
CONTENTS.
PAGE
CHAPTER VIII.-MORALLY WRONG WILL.
Mlan's rational powers distinguished from the man himself.  We are alike responsible
for the use of our natural, and of our rational powers. No degree of excitement
exonerates from responsibility. An extreme case of excitement of appetite; of
affection; of desire; of emotion. Permanent wrong choice. Stoicism. Cowardice.
Obstinacy,.......... 257
CHAPTER  IX.-SOURCE OF THE MORIALITY OF ACTIONS.
Various views. Now mostly reduced to three: that which places the source in the
affections and desires; that which places it in the will; and that which makes
man a machine. Pantheism. Nature of a radical moral change. Characteristic
distinction of an upright man,....... 267
PART IV.
PRINCIPLES.
I. NATURAL PRINCIPLES OF MORALITY.
CHAPTER I. —THEORIES OF TilE LAW OF RIGHT.
Principles of morality defined. They are essential, and positive. The arbitrary theory.
The greatest happiness theory. The highest good theory. The subjective theory.
Objections to these several theories. Some of them embrace more truth than
others, but neither embraces the whole truth,..... 279
CHAPTER  II.-FIRST PRINCIPLES.
All sciences have them. How known. Learned in the concrete. First ideas of right
and wrong. Principles objective. Virtues subjective. Grounds in which prin   ciples are apprehended. Principle of temperance; of chastity; of benevolence;
,fjustice; of veracity; of fidelity; of gratitude. May be universally known,. 294
CHAPTER III.-M.ORALITY TAUGHT BY EXPERIENCE.
How duty is learned by experience. Paley. When we are responsible for conse   quences. When indulgence is immoral. Fashion and dress. Conflict of taste
with utility. The principle of prohibitory laws. Morality of amusements. The
test by which to try them,........ 8370
II. REVEALED PRINCIPLES OF MORALITY.
CHAPTER  IV.-MORALITY OF CHRISTIANITY.
Relation of Christianity to our several faculties: to the appetites; affections; desires;
emotions; conscience; taste; will.  Its standard of appeal,... 820
10 
CONTENTS.
PAGE
CHAPTER V.-REVEALED FACTS OF CHRISTIANITY.
Existence and perfections of the true God. Creation of man. His primitive purity.
Origin and extent of human sinfulness. The dispensation of grace. The certain   ty of future existence and retributions. Resurrection of the body. Principles of
duty deduced from these facts,.......  880
CHAPTER VI.-INSTITUTIONS OF CHRISTIANITY.
THIE SABBATII. The primitive Sabbath. The Mosaic Sabbath. The Christian Sab   bath.  Reasons for the change.  How the day should be observed,..  3386
CHAPTER  VII.-INSTITUTIONS OF CIIPISTIANITY CONTINUED.
MARRIAGE.  When instituted.  Its nature and design.  Polygamy not of divine ori   gin. The marriage covenant binding for life.
PUBLIC WORSHIP. An institution of the Mosaic religion. Modified and perpetuated
by Christianity. The nature of the worship required.
THE CiHURCH. Instituted by Christ and his apostles. Planted by them in various
places.  Its ordinances.   The enhanced privilege and obligation of those  to
whom Christianity is given,........ 344
PART V.
THE CODE OF DUTIES.
CHAPTER I.-RELIGIOUS DUTIES.
Obedience to God demanded by his perfections; by his relations to us. Nature of
the service due to him. Duty in reference to the Bible. Repentance. Faith.
Prayer.  Praise.  Observance of the Sabbath.  Other duties,... 857
CHAPTER II.-PERSONAL DUTIES.
Self-respect. Self-control. Self-defence. Self-purity. Self-providing. Self-culture.
Self-salvation,.......     3... 871
CHAPTER III.-CONJUGAL DUTIES.
Union of affection; of interest; of parental love; of regard for relatives; of domestic
responsibil.ty.  The covenant enjoins chastity and fidelity.  Relative position of
the parties.  Duties of the husband to the wife; of the wife to the husband,. 887
CHAPTER IV.-PARENTAL DUTIES.
Parental affection; guardianship; government; maintenance; education. Specific
rules and duties involved in the physical, intellectual, moral, and religious train   ing of children,.......... 402
11 
CONTENTS.
PAGE
CHAPTER V.-FILIAL DUTIES.
Counterpart to parental. Filial love; reverence; obedience; gratitude; docility.
Value and importance of these duties,...... 417
CHAPTER VI.-FRATERNAL DUTIES.
Fraternal affection. How manifested. Should continue through life. Mutual in   fluence of children. Particular duties of brothers to sisters. Of sisters to broth   ers. Of the elder to the younger children. Mutual obligations in after life,. 426
CHAPTER VII.-CIVIL DUTIES.
Their nature. What is meant by a state. Civil government. Magistrates. Citizens.
Civil duties considered under three heads. I. DUTIES OF TIIE STATE: Should
adapt the government to the people; place the best qualified men in office; pro   vide for her prosperity and defence; employ the sanctions of religion; administer
judicial oaths; have the control of all property; not allow unfair monopolies;
foster education and religion; enact and enforce laws prohibiting treasonable and
vicious conduct,......... 435
CHAPTER  VIII.-CIVIL DUTIES CONTINUED.
II. DUTIES OF MAGISTRATES. Legislators. Judges. Executive officers. Rules of
the pardoning power.   III. DUTIES OF CITIZENS.  General rule is obedience.
When obedience is not a duty. Reform and revolution. Reform by the people;
revolution by the state. Attempts at revolution by the people generally fail.
Why they fail.  The difficulty solved.  Freedom of personal will,..  449
CHAPTER IX.SOCIAL DUTIES.
These duties defined. The law of universal love. Courtesy. Kindness. Forbear   ance. Charity. Hospitality. Generosity. Faithfulness. Duties of master and
servant; of teacher and pupil; of neighbors; of fellow-citizens; of fellow-men,  461
c IN.... 479
12
OolqoLusioN, 
INTRODUCTION.
BETWEEN most of the learned books of moral philosophy and
the popular mind there is a great chasm. The same is true of
the searching reviews of them in the Quarterlies and Monthlies.
Instructive and interesting to those conversant with philosophical
speculations, to all others they are in a great measure unintelligible. This volume is not designed to take the place of any of
these, but to assist the student to understand them, and to benefit
the general reader.
Although the writer has carefully examined the most important works accessible upon this subject, and has endeavored to
secure all available advantage from them, he has yet ventured upon
a plan of analysis and arrangement, mostly original. His object
has been to avoid giving undue prominence to disputed points,
which are often really least important, and to present the entire
subject, with its just proportions, in a clearly practical light, and
as related to Christianity, in a way to bring it within the apprehension of the attentive popular reader, as well as the student.
HIe has, with the same view, written in a simple but free style,
sometimes expanding and repeating the thoughts and placing
them in various lights, for their greater elucidation and enforcement.
But it is hoped the reader will not identify simplicity of
9 #. 
INTRODUCTION.
language with shallowness of thought. Few tasks are easier,
on subjects like the one in hand, than that of introducing strange
words, learned quotations, and mysterious arguments; thus challenging a claim to erudition and to depth of thought, while confounding the student with the jargon of the schools.
The physician's learned and mysterious prescription becomes
a very obvious affair, when put in plain language. It respects
perhaps a common herb in your yard or garret, whose properties your grandmother knew before the learned doctor was born.
This however does not alter the nature or diminish the value of
the remedy. So it is with philosophy. The chasm between the
learned and the ignorant is often more in the language than in
the thought.
On some important points the writer's views will be seen to
differ from those of authors, whose opinions it may seem presumptuous to question. But he could conscientiously do no less than
frankly express his own views, giving his reasons for them, and
leaving the candid reader to judge of their correctness. The particular points referred to, have respect to the precise nature and
functions of the rational motive powers, especially the conscience;
the origin and quality of certain malevolent affections and desires;
the source of the moral quality of actions; the first ideas or
principles of morality; and the groundwork and limits of human
accountability. On all these points profound and earnest inquiries have been often raised, and to these the reader's careful
attention is particularly solicited.
Our general subject is divided into Five Parts. In the First,
we distinguish between the intellective and the motive powers,
and between human actions as natural or moral. In the Second,
we examine the nature and functions of the rational motive powers. In the Third, we distinguish between moral actions as right
or wrong. In the Fourth, we investigate the principles of morality. In the Fifth, we expound the code of human duties.
The two leading schools of philosophy are the transcendental
and the phenomenal. Of the former are Leibnitz, Kant, Schelling,
Fichte, Hegel, Cousin, and most of the other Continental writers,
14 
INTRODUCTION.
together with Cudworth, Coleridge, Morelle and others in England and in America. Of the latter are most of the English and
Scotch philosophers, of whom Sir William Hamilton is perhaps
at present the most able champion.
The former school speculate ontologically upon the absolute
and the infinite, regarding all inquiry respecting the mere phenomenal as "dirt philosophy." They distinguish between the reason
and the understanding, Vernumft und Verstand, considering the
former that sublime faculty by which we transcend the phenomenal universe, and directly possess unconditioned and absolute
ideas; and regarding the latter faculty as that by which, through
the bodily senses and a discursive process, we obtain those ideas
which are conditioned in nature.  The "reason" is considered
generic to the race, the "image of God"  in man, and that by
virtue of which man sees truths to some extent as God does, and
is therefore a revelation to himself. Hence this philosophy is
primarily and intensely subjective, and hence the tendency of all
its advocates, from Leibnitz to Carlyle, to exalt human reason
above divine revelation and to substitute man-worship for Godworship.
The latter school maintain, that it is only by the study of the
phenomenal universe, aided by express revelation from God, that
we obtain any just and positive ideas of what transcends it. They
consider reason, as understood by the other school, an intuitive
faculty, but suppose that our intuitive ideas, like all others, are
not innate but acquired, and are first apprehended not in the abstract but in the concrete. Through the study of the phenomenal we ascend with conditioned and positive ideas to the limits
of human knowledge, whence we look off upon the illimitable and
awful unknown, learning thence only our ignorance.
God himself is transcendent, absolute, infinite; seen only by
the eye of faith; known only as the I AM, whom no mortal can
know, excepting in his works. He is above the phenomenal universe and gives rise to it. Whatever be the powers of the
reason" in man, they are not infinite; hence no human reason
can comprehend God; for the finite cannot comprehend the in
15 
INTRODUCTION.
finite. By studying his two great revelations, his works and his
word, we are enabled to know something of him, enough for our
present mode of being; but "who by searching can find out God?"
If we are liable to be unduly fascinated with the bold and
splendid speculations of the Continental philosophers, we may be
equally liable to do them injustice. Our language, our institutions, our intellectual training and habits of thinking, are so unlike theirs, that we often find ourselves compelled to be in just
doubt whether we apprehend their real meaning. To quote and
comment upon detached portions of their writings, without a
more prolonged and earnest study of them, in their own language and under their own teaching, than is often given, amounts
to little else than a pedantic show of learning, unjust to them,
and profitless to the reader. But after making due allowance
for these causes and for national prejudice, we are constrained to
think, that with all their subtlety of intellect and brilliancy of
imagination, they do not appear to best advantage in mental
science.
For clearness, precision, and beauty of language; for exact
analyses in the physical sciences; for minuteness and correctness
of detail in natural history; for every form of sensuous and social
culture that directly tends to embellish life; the French are unrivalled. While for richness, freedom, and pathos of language;
for patient plodding in study, and bold daring in speculation; for
abounding and successful endeavors in the great field of hermeneutics; and for the heaven-winged poetry of fearless and glowing
imagination; the Germans are pre-eminent.
But for thorough practical common sense in the great business of life; for the successful investigation of the principles
which underlie all science; for severe and exacting logic, as applied to solving the problem of human destiny; for apprehending
the true nature and end of all governments, especially of that
which respects man as an accountable and immortal being; we
fall back upon the strong, clear, Anglo-Saxon intellect as the
most reliable.
Although the author has endeavored to render the subject as
16 
INTRODUCTION.
plain as possible, readers must not presume that any effort of his can
exonerate them from the necessity of earnest and patient thought.
Every person must "think on these things," if he would understand them. And they are truly worthy of his most laborious
thought.  " Happy is the man that findeth wisdom; the merchandise of it is better than the merchandise of silver, and the gain
thereof than fine gold. She is more precious than rubies, and
all the things thou canst desire are not to be compared with her."
This " wisdom " of such priceless value, is the practical knowledge of the truths and duties herein discussed.
The public mind is so preoccupied with more exciting and
fascinating topics, that it is with no expectation of temporal gain
that the writer adventures before the public upon a subject like
this. But if any thing is successfully done towards promoting
an interest in this kind of study, towards making plain the path
of duty, towards guiding and encouraging fellow beings to secure
the great object of life, it will be remembered with inexpressible
gratitude when all earthly considerations shall have passed away.
It is greatly to be desired that the reading public have their
attention directed more than it is to studies of this nature; and
especially that educational institutions give them more prominence. The thought of the age is projected outward. Natural
sciences, practical arts, languages, history, with works of imagination, are the absorbing subjects. These are important. They
elevate and refine humanity, but they cannot save it.
If duty is neglected, all is lost! However great and splendid his other attainments, without the "wisdom " to which we
have referred, man is in a perilled and miserable condition. It is
only as he obtains this wisdom, and sacredly holds it as the treasure of his heart, that his present existence is rendered safe and
happy, and that he can see his way clearly onward into the everlasting ages.
l  
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
MORAL PHILOsOPHY is the science which treats of our
responsibilities and duties. It investigates the principles
of morality, as they exist of necessity, or in the nature of
things; and also as they are involved in positive institutions claiming to be obligatory.
It neither assumes nor ignores the truth of any particular religion. It subjects religious claims to the same ordeal
to which it does all others. It is, hence, the rational pioneer to an enlightened religious faith. It goes everywhere
with the inquiry, What is morally right?
Not that we must be philosophical before we can be
religious. A devout spirit is the duty of even the most
untaught, and is an important aid in all inquiries after
truth and duty. We must not wait until we can philosophize upon food before we eat; some experience of effects
must precede searching inquiry into causes.   Neither
should we wait to learn all the grounds and reasons of
duty, before doing what we already know to be right.
Christianity, although proved to be divine, does not
make us accountable beings.   It assumes that we are
0.. 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
such; that is, it assumes what philosophy teaches. It
builds upon necessary and fundamental truths. Our obligations are enhanced by it; but they originate in our
moral constitution, as related to essential and everlasting
laws. 
Moral Philosophy investigates, also, the springs of
human conduct; distinguishes between actions as natural
or moral, and between moral actions as right or wrong;
and subjects all its teachings to an order or nexus, so as
to embrace them in a harmonious system.
Our subject is naturally divided into Five Parts. We
are to examine
I. Tim NATURAL MOTIVE POWERS.
II.-THE RATIONAL MOTIVE POWERS.
III.-M-ORAL ACTION.
IV.-THE PPINCIPLES OF MORALITY.
V.-THE CODE OF DUTIES.
20 
PART I.
THE NATURAL MOTIVE POWERS.
CHAPTER I.
THE MENTAL POWERS AND EXERCISES DI)STINGUISHED.
THE mental faculties are divisible into two generic classes:
the intellective and the motive.   The former are the
knowing faculties; or those by direct virtue of which we
know.* The latter are the moving faculties; or those by
direct virtue of which we act. The philosophical refinement which would merge these two classes into one, and
consider a feeling only a vivid idea, is beyond our comprehension, and is so much aside from the practical
judgment of mankind as to be of no importance in this
connection.
Both of these classes of mental powers, however, are
active; but their activities are of different kinds.   The
activity of the former is speculative; finding its end in
* The terms intellective and intellect are used in this work to denote a/ the
knowing powers both of reason and sense. 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
knowledge. The activity of the latter is practicat; finding its end in action.   An  examination of the former
belongs to Intellectual Philosophy; that of the latter, to
Moral Philosophy.
As all responsible action is directly predicable of the
latter, they are often called moral powers.   But they
have also important functions which involve no moral
quality. Dugald Stewart calls them active powers. But
the powers of intellect, as we have said, are also active,
although in a different way.
THE TERMS POWER AND FACULTY.
We use the terms power and faculty as synonymous,
and, in accordance with established usage, to indicate
what is strictly a state or exercise of mind, as well as a constitutional ability.  A desire or volition is a power, because
in virtue of it we are induced to act. In the same view
we also call it a motive. But the power to desire or to
choose, sustains, of course, some relation of cause to the
desire or choice, and lies back of it in the mental constitution. The terms in question are applied to both, but the
reader will easily see by the connection to which they
refer.
VARIOUS TERMS APPLIED TO THE MOTIVE POWERS.
The motive powers are variously named, according to
the particular relations or functions contemplated.
When viewed as making us recipients of impressions,
they are called susceptibilities; from the Latin 8us8cipio,
to receive. When regarded as rendering us propense, or
inclined to certain actions, they are called propensgities;
from the Latin propendo, to incline.
22 
THE NATURAL MOTIVE POWERS.
When considered as urgently inciting us to act, they
are termed impu78se8; from the latin impello, to impel.
In their more common states, they are simply termed
motives; from the Latin moveo, to move.
Considered in the mere relation of moving powers
analogous to those of nature, they are called the mind's
dynamics; from the Greek 8vvau~s, power.
Viewed in all their relations, both to the individual
himself and to others, as the centre and source of good
and evil, they are in the Bible termed the heart; * a word
of Saxon origin and familiar to all.
For the sake of convenience and for the want of a better term, we designate all this class of faculties by the
general name Alotive Powers. We are obliged to borrow
terms from nature; but it must be clearly understood that
we are not passively moved by these powers, as effects
are produced by causes in nature. The mental dynamics
are not of this kind. It is the man that wills, moves,
acts; these powers do not of themselves will him, move
him, act him. They are merely the subjective motives,
with regard to which he acts. Thus when we say that a
man's desire of office moves him to seek it, we only mean
that it is from a regard to this desire that he moves to
seek the office. Not any or all of his motives, but the
man himself, desiring, willing, acting, is the efficient and
responsible agent. The motive is the man's and not the
man the motive's.
THE MOTIVE POWERS OF TWO KINDS.
Our motive powers, like the intellective, are of two
kinds, those which the brute creation share with us, in
some humble degree, and those which are possessed exclu
* See Matt. 15: 9.
23 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
sively by accountable beings. The former are Appetite,
Affection, Desire, Emotion, Volition. These we denominate the natural motive powers.
The latter are Conscience, Taste, Rational Will. We
here distinguish will from mere brute volition, brutum
arbitrium; the former being in the service of reason and
therefore rational, while the latter is controlled by mere
instinct.   These we  denominate the rational motive
powers.
GENERAL USE OF THE MOTIVE POWERS.
We can imagine a being possessing all of the intellective without any of the motive powers: although we have
no belief that such a being ever existed.   Such a being
would be incapable of moral and religious character, and
even of affections or emotions of any kind.  Possessing
only cold and dry intellect, he would resemble the iceribbed regions of the poles, glittering with moonbeams
but frozen and cheerless.
We are therefore indebted to the faculties which we
are now to examine for all that makes creation to us beautiful, grand, charming; for all that renders the bounties
of Providence desirable; for all that sustains the toils and
relieves the burdens of life; for all that is precious in the
tender sympathies and warm charities of society; and
most of all, for the distinguishing honor of sustaining
moral and religious character, and the exalted and everlasting happiness of loving God. Such is the importance
of those faculties, which we now propose to examine.
WHICH CLASS OF FACULTIES ACT FIRST.
The intellective and the motive powers are intimately
united and mutually dependent.  Other things equal, the
24 
THIE NATURAL MOTIVE POWERS.
more earnest our affections, desires, emotions, the more
vivid are our perceptions; and, on the other hand, the
clearer our perceptions, the more intense are our feelings.
But it has been debated which act first, the intellective or
the motive powers. Dugald Stewart thinks the latter.
"Our active propensities," he says, "are the motives
which induce us to exert our intellectual powers, and
our intellectual powers are the instruments by which we
attain the ends recommended to us by our active propensities."
This is true, but not the whole truth. In all cases
of sensational activity, that is, of mental action through
the senses, the gotive powers act first. In all other cases,
the intellective powers act first.  For instance, appetite
may excite desire, which puts thought at work to gratify
it. In this case a mtotve power takes the lead. On the
other hand, the intuitive perception of a truth or falsehood may excite a corresponding emotion. In this case
the intellect is first to act.
Thus an act of the intellect is often the means of exciting propensities, which subsequently re-act through the
instrumentality of the intellect to obtain their ends. But
it is not the same intellectual faculty, which is employed in
these two cases. In the first instance, it is the power of intuition; in the second, the power of contriving, or adapting means to ends. This last is a combination of primitive
faculties. We are hence morally bound to take heed how
we employ the intellect, not only as an instrument to secure ends already desired but as a means of exciting the
desires themselves. This is true of other powers besides
that of intuition, and especially of imagination.
The direct object of intellectual activity is knowledge.
Knowledge excites the motive powers, and these incite us
to action. The object of that kind of intellectual activity
2
25 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
called imagining, is a substitute for knowledge. That is,
it substitutes a fancied object for a reality. It is therefore
adapted, like knowledge, to move the feelings; and is
often even more effectual to excite desires and emotions
than reality itself.  IHence the person who would keep his
heart pure must have special care of his imagination.
THE ACTION OF THE MOTIVE POWERS NATURAL OR MORAL.
Having distinguished the motive from the intellec
tive powers, we are next to discriminate between those
acts or states of the motive powers which are purely
natural, and those which involve moral quality.   But
we must first define what we mean by natural and by
moral action.
By natural action, we do not mean that the action
itself is not beautiful, amiable, desirable, nor that it does
not imply wise design and moral excellence in the responsible author of it. It does imply these in the highest degree.
We see them in the instincts of the bee, and of all animals.
We  see them also in those human instincts, those purely
constitutional activities of our nature, which are directly
due to the creating and guiding power of God. When
we say they are natural, characterless, &c., we only mean
that they imply no moral worthiness in the man, any more
than the amiable instincts of the animal imply moral worthiness in the animal. The man's conscience, his regard
to duty, does not enter into them at all, any more than it
does into the beatings of his pulse.
By moral action, we mean that for which the man
himself, as a moral agent, is personally responsible. It is
action which, if by him conscientiously conformed to the
rule of right, attaches to him character of moral excellence;
but if otherwise, it attaches to him guilt. Every specific
26 
THE NATURAL MOTIVE POWERS.
moral state or action is thus right or wrong, the responsible author of it being the agent himself.
When  our affections, desires, emotions, volitions, are
simple spontaneous outbursts, such as mere nature designs
and prompts, they are as characterless as nature herself.
They are sometimes called human instincts. They incite
us to preserve and defend our lives, to foster and protect
our offspring, to relieve misery, to provide for our natural
wants. To do otherwise is unnatural. When the person
keeps them in obedience to enlightened conscience, having
thus faithful regard to duty, they are morally right. When
he allows them to violate the laws of conscience, they are
morally wrong. They are then wrong as being wrongly
motived, indulged to excess, or directed to unworthy and
forbidden objects.
Applying the above rule, we find a large class of humane, lovely, beautiful feelings and actions, on which we
are prone to pride ourselves, which are the pure gifts
of God in nature, as truly so as the instincts of the mere
animal. They evince a fine nature as made and endued
by God, but attach no more moral worthiness to the responsible man than does the color of his skin. They are
strictly God's creative work, acting itself out, so to speak,
in the nature which he has given.
ILLUSTRATIONS OF THE ABOVE DISTINCTIONS.
The mnere constitutional desire of esteem has no moral
quality. It is as natural and useful to the mind as breathing is to the body; the one implies no more moral character than the other. But when this desire is directed to
unworthy ends, or is excessively earnest for human applause, it subverts right principle and is morally wrong.
The constitutional desire ofpower is in itself innocent,
27 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
and subserves important uses.   But let it be wrongly
directed, or become a ruling passion, overriding justice
and benevolence, and it is highly criminal. It is the main
motive of demagogues and tyrants.
Let us now reverse these cases. The desire of esteem,
rightly directed, exerts a most elevating and ennobling
influence upon the character. When supremely directed
to the Supreme Being, it becomes one of the loftiest elements of virtue and piety. None have a brighter record
on high, than they who "seek the honor that cometh from
God only."
The desire of power, often so dreadful when perverted,
when wisely directed to benevolent ends, imparts strength
and greatness to character, and often renders its subjects
illustrious benefactors of mankind. To desire power and
influence for the sake of being largely beneficial, and to
retain the purity of the desire and the sincerity of the
motive unto the end, through a life of distinguished public success, is to form a character like that of the illustrious
Washington.
The natural affections are not only innocent, but they
are so essential to us that without them man is a monster.
The mother's love for her infant child, is an original and
pure instinct. Rightly controlled, it becomes one of the
most beautiful elements of character. What more pleasing
than the sight of the affectionate mother, watching with
solicitous and untiring devotion over her helpless child?
Who can contemplate her self-forgetting in devotion to
the object of her love, enduring his waywardness, forgivinig his faults, relieving his pains, enjoying his pleasures;
pouring incessantly into his opening soul the warm current of her sympathies and the mature wisdom of her
counsels, aud following him with her untiring prayers, as
he advances from childhood, and finally goes forth to bat
28 
THE NATURAL MOTIF POWERS.
tie with the temptations and trials of life, without feeling
that the true mother's heart is the noblest of heaven's
gifts?
But let that affection become by excess an idolatrous
fondness; let it induce her to look not only with endurance
but with complacence upon her child's faults; let it so contract her heart that it shall retain no adequate affection
for any child but her own; let it be allowed to supplant the
higher affection due to God, and thus induce her to murmur against him, if he removes the idol; it then becomes
morally wrong. Allowed to reign in the heart, it will
ultimately displace all its finest sensibilities and subvert
every principle of morality and religion. Every natural
affection, however lovely and important, when allowed to
become idolatrous, selfish, exclusive, tends to the same
disastrous result.
Hence Jesus Christ said, "Hle that loveth father or
mother more than me, is not worthy of me, and he that
loveth son or daughter more than me, is not worthy of
me."
Now let that mother, instead of giving her supreme
affection to her child, give it to God.  Chastened, reverent, devout, modified to the nature of its object, let it
ascend in holy devotion to Him who alone has the right
to claim it, and to whom alone she has a right to give it.
Her parental affection thus falls into its appropriate sphere
and assumes the right character. She does not love her
child the less, because she loves God more than him, but
her maternal love is now a morally regulated and Christian
affection.
This is not an affection which looks complacently upon
and defends her child's faults.  Although sincere and
ardent, it is still discriminating. Neither is it an affection that closes the fountain of her heart against others.
29
I 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
On the contrary, it opens and enlarges it for all the human
race. Nor yet does it resist the will of God, conflict with
his laws and providence, and obstinately insist upon its
own ends. Cheerfully recognizing that higher claim,
resigned even in the removal of its dearest earthly object,
it says, "The Lord gave and the Lord hath taken away,
and blessed be the name of the Lord." This is true moral
excellence; it is sublimely beautiful.
What we have said of the desires and affections, is
equally true of all the primitive motive powers. Characterless in themselves, they are morally right or wrong,
according as they are kept in obedience to the law of
moral rectitude, or are allowed to transgress it. Hience
a man may be, to a great extent, naturally amiable and
lovely, while he is morally perverse and wicked. iHe
may have fine natural endowments of soul as well as of
body, rich impulses, genial feelings, glowing and humane
affections, and yet live without God in the world. iHe
may be a practical atheist. But if the will of God is our
supreme law of moral right, as we shall hereafter show it
to be; if we ought supremely to regard his pleasure, and
to devote all our powers to his service; then, the man
who withholds this homage from God, however fine his
natural endowments, is wrong in the capital respect, the
very respect in which he is personally and most of all
responsible. iHe does not do as he ought to do, even in
the highest and most important relation of his being.
The duty that comprehends all other duties he ignores
and disowns. He is thus, as an accountable being, radically and utterly in fault.
An additional fact must here be introduced, as an
element essential to every philosophical system true to
humanity, which is, that man is a morally fallen being,
disinclined to do the will of God. Thus morally perverse
30 
THIE NATURAL MOTIVE POWERS.
and guilty, he is dependent upon a dispensation of grace.
A true and complete system of moral philosophy must
therefore show both what man is, and what, through the
grace of the gospel, he may and should become.  The
principles of morality are thus both natural and revealed.
31 
CHAPTER II.
NATUIJRAL APPETITE.
THE appetites are those propensities of our nature whose
object is to supply our bodily wastes and to perpetuate
our race. Of these we have two, adapted severally to
each of the above ends.   One of them is active from
infancy; the other is developed later in life. Both are,
however, alike provided for in the original constitution.
Some authors reckon three appetites, considering the
appetite of thirst distinct from that of hunger.  This
results from their confounding appetite with the desires to
which it gives rise, when excited. The propensity to supply the bodily wastes perpetually exists in the constitution
as a part of it, while the desires which it occasions do not
perpetually exist; their existence depending upon the particular bodily and mental states. In certain states of the
body, the propensity to supply its wants occasions desire
for liquid, in other states for solid substance. The particular desires of appetite are numerous, but the propensity to supply the wants, whatever they may be, is ever
one and the same.
The above distinction between appetite and desire is 
THE NATURAL MOTIVE POWERS.
important.   Appetite itself is natural and innocent, but
the desires to which it gives rise may be virtuous or
vicious, according as we direct them to lawful or unlawful
indulgences. This remark is equally applicable to both
of the natural appetites, and to their desires.
THE APPETITES NECESSARY.
It might seem that reason and experience are sufficient
to direct us to the means necessary for the preservation of
our lives and the perpetuity of our race, and that consequently the appetites are superfluous. Why then are
they implanted in our nature, since they so often enslave
and torment us?  Is it not unworthy of rational beings to
be actuated by such inferior principles?  We despise the
man who is controlled by his appetites; why then were
they not left entirely out of his constitution, that all his
actions might be directed by the loftier dictates of reason
and conscience? Some light may be thrown upon this
question by the following considerations.
THE APPETITES ARE PROMPTERS.
Without the promptings of appetite, the vigilance of
the rational powers and the lessons of experience would
often fail to remind us of the means necessary to the important ends which they contemplate. When intensely
occupied, for instance, or absorbed in some favorite object, or when in circumstances unfavorable for procuring
the means of subsistence, without the urgent promptings
of appetite, men would often perish for want of nourishment.   The appetites, therefore, in their natural and
healthy condition, are invaluable monitors.   Without
them, despite of their rational powers, the human race
would have long since ceased from the earth.
2*
33 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
FURTHER USE OF THE APPETITES.
Controlled by virtuous principle, the appetites not only
admonish us when to indulge, but they serve to regulate
the indulgence. They indicate the quantity, as well as
the time.   Indeed, the instinct of healthy appetite subserves much the same purpose for supplying the system
with nourishment, which that of breathing does for supplying the lungs with air. They do not supersede the
necessity of rational and moral control, but they greatly
relieve it.  "Suppose, for example, that the appetite of
hunger had been no part of our constitution; reason and
experience might have satisfied us of the necessity of food
to our preservation; but how should we have been able,
without an implanted principle, to ascertain, according to
the varying state of our animal economy, the proper
reasons for eating, or the quantity of food that is salutary
to the body?" *
TIIE APPETITES CONTRIBUTE TO ENJOYMENT.
But the appetites have a higher end than mere physical necessity. They were designed to promote our happiness. Indeed our enjoyment is provided for in all
providential arrangements; and is never sacrificed but
by soime misdoing of ours, or for purposes of moral discipline having a higher good in prospect.
Without appetite, even the taking of our needful food
would be a matter of sober and grudging necessity. The
plain substantial luxury, so welcome to the laborer when
returning from the toils of the day, the savory viands and
delicious fruits upon the rich man's table, even the crys
* Stewart, p. 10.
34 
THE NATURAL MOTIVE POWERS.
tal water that sparkles so temptingly in the temperate
man's cup, would all cease alike to have any attraction,
or to afford any pleasure. We should eat and drink by
rule, and from mere motives of necessity. What a cold,
mercenary, calculating business, would eating and drinking be! It would not be easy to calculate the amount of
enjoyment, individual, domestic, social, which would be
taken fromr the world, by the annihilation of the appetites.
MORAL AND RELIGIOUS USES OF THE APPETITES.
The appetites serve to discipline us. If they tempt us to
vice, they also afford us opportunity to test and strengthen
virtuous principle. " Blessed is the man that endureth
temptation; for when he is tried he shall receive a crown
of life." It is not he who has nothing in his nature or
circumstances to try his virtue, but he only who is capable of being tempted and who overcomes the temptation,
that is worthy to inherit the promised crown. It seems to
have been by appetite, unlawfully indulged, that our progenitorsfell from innocence. An opportunity is afforded,
by rightly controlling this and other propensities, to rise
from the servile bondage of the flesh to regained dominion
more glorious than was lost.
The appetites also serve to awaken our gratitude to
God, for his constant care and numerous gifts.  They
occasion wants in our nature, produced by the same gracious Being who provides for them; the necessity and
the provision for it being always so adjusted to each other
as to yield us repeated enjoyment, make us feel our dependence, and thus awaken our gratitude. " Give us this
day our daily bread," is a prayer suggested by the demands of appetite; and every answer to it is a fresh
appeal to the grateful homage of the heart.
35 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
Whenever the devout man sits down to his repast, the
blessinIg of a healthy appetite brought into connection
with the means of supplying its demands, naturally lifts
his soul to God; and, in imitation of the Saviour's example, he offers to him his tribute of thanks. Thus appetite,
rightly used, becomes an important means of rendering
the heart grateful and devout.   The true Christian "eats
and drinks to the glory of God." *
ERRORS RESPECTING APPETITE.
There are two opposite errors, to which men incline,
respecting the appetites; that of undue denial, and that
of undue indulgence. The former is undoubtedly the
safer; but we should avoid the errors on both sides.
UNDUE DENIAL.-Observing the evils of undue indulgence, some have concluded that the hand of an iron
mastery should be laid upon the appetites; that they
should be reduced to the lowest possible extremity; that
all the happiness they proffer should be eschewed; and
that the very essence of virtue consists in a state of entire
indifference to their demands.
This is Asceticism. It is of heathen origin. Its views
of morality and religion are severe and unnatural. It
entirely mistakes the Creator's design; or, if it sees it in
part, does not apprehend its entireness, beauty, and beneficence. Applied to religion and guiding the conscience,
it has led to deeds of cruel penance, to macerations of the
body, to celibacy, and even to the entire destruction of
faculties implanted in our nature for the most important
ends.  Such is the wisdom of heathenism, or of man in the
absence of Christianity, when attempting to regulate the
1 Cor. 10: 31.
36 
THE NATURAL MOTIVE POWERS.
appetites. And even Christians themselves, like some of
the Jews in the time of Christ, have not always kept
their morality and religious devotion entirely free of the
ascetic element.
UNDUE INDULGENCE.-This is the more dangerous error.
Perceiving that the appetites were evidently designed to
contribute to our enjoyment, and not considering the inmportance of keeping them in due subjection, many allow
them to gain the mastery. Men thus become abject slaves
to them. They are what the Scriptures denominate " lovers
of pleasures." The pleasures of sense, no longer subordinate and incidental, become to them the supreme and
ultimate object. They tease and stimulate the appetites
to the highest pitch of excitement, and then give to them
the reins of free indulgence.
This is Epicurianism.  It is so called from a noted
heathen philosopher, who was reputed to teach, what he
never did teach in so gross a sense, that pleasure is the
chief end of man. Not only morality and religion, but
even the decencies of social and domestic life are by it
sometimes sacrificed to a mad devotion to " the lusts of
the flesh." It defeats its own end. Its race is short; it
usually has more of pain than of substantial pleasure, even
while it lasts; and it terminates in hopeless ruin.
But while the theoretical error may draw many into
the bondage of appetite, it is not true that all who come
into this bondage theoretically embrace the error. Men
become the slaves of lust by errors of practice more than
by errors of speculation. So dominant do unduly indulged
appetites often become, that their unhappy slaves groan
under the bondage while freely admitting the claims of
virtue, and even eloquent in its praise. The most lucid
arguments and touching appeals in favor of temperance
and chastity, have fallen from the lips of intemperate
37 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
and licentious men.   In the bitterness of his spirit, the
wretched victim of lust is often constrained to say,
"I know the right, and I approve it too,
Condemn the wrong, and yet the wrong pursue."
RELATION OF APPETITE TO PLEASURE.
Pleasure is an object, but not the chief and ultimate
object, for which the appetites were given us. The question here arises whether it is right to indulge the appetites
merely for the pleasure thus obtained. In answer to this, it is
evident that he acts an irrational part, and therefore morally wrong, who allows present indulgence at the expense
of greater enjoyment in the future.   ile who eagerly
snatches a few transient pleasures, at the loss of great and
permanent future good, acts a brutish part, and thus
offends against the high dictates of wisdom and morality.
A rational being is bound to act as such; and rationality
enjoins forethought.
There is not so much as an apology for this impatience
to indulge, even with those who regard happiness as the
end; for Providence has so ordered events that the virtuous control of appetite secures the highest present satisfaction, as well as future reward. Hence all vicious indulgence is as truly a mistake, as an immorality; it is as
unwise, as it is wrong. If the present year, or even the
present month, were the whole of a man's existence, the
balance of enjoyment would still be on the side of virtue. 
But the mere question of enjoyment is not the main
one here. Morality takes a higher view. While virtue
bestows present as well as future happiness, it must be
conceded that she demands self-denial; and sometimes
38 
THE NATURAL MOTIVE POWERS.
self-denial very severe and protracted. And when the
question lies between indulgence and virtue, between
pleasure and morality, the decision in favor of the latter
does not admit of a question, even though it be at the
sacrifice of a right eye.
There are two kinds of pleasure, which here conflict:
that of indulged appetite, and that of obeyed conscience;
and however great the former, that of the latter is sure to
be greater. And so also there are two kinds of conflicting
pain; and however great the pain of denying appetite,
that of disobeying conscience will surely transcend it.
And to this we must add, that even if we take no higher
ground than respect to mere physical enjoyment, the loss
of it from vices of appetite is ordinarily, within no distant period, more than an offset to the pleasure.   These
reasons are conclusive, why the appetites should never be
used as means of pleasure, excepting as they are controlled by strict and unbending virtue. But when indulgence and virtue clearly coincide, self-denial ceases to be
either virtuous or wise.
ILLUSTRATION OF THE ABOVE.
If we have the choice of two kinds of food equally at
our command and conducive to health, the only difference
being that our appetite craves the one rather than the
other, our appetite is then the only providential indication
to guide us. Indeed, what a healthy appetite best relishes,
is usually best for us.   Nor can one person decide here
for another; for as Providence has afforded a variety of
provisions, so he has constituted various appetites with
reference to them.
Aloreover, the appetites were clearly designed to be
indulged, subject to the laws of strict virtue, with direct
reference to the satisfaction which they afford.   They
39 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
were designed, as we have said, to minister to our enjoyment; and happiness is both a good in itself, and a means
to permanent moral benefit. It is not less essential than
suffering, as an element of moral discipline; and God
has dispensed his bounties with reference to this law of
our nature. We are so constituted, that the absence of
all pleasure on the one hand, as well as the absence of
all pain on the other, would be fatal to our moral discipline.
DESIGN OF PROVIDENTIAL GIFTS.
Why has the Creator spread such a world of beauty
around us, in the varied and beautiful landscape; in the
rich hues of the opening flowers and the richer tints of the
ripening fruits; in the gorgeous splendors of the western
sky, when the sun is sinking to rest beneath a canopy of
sapphire and of gold; in all the forms of grace and grandeur, which open to our view in ceaseless variety, by day
and by night; but to afford us enjoyment through the
sense of sight, and thereby raise our hearts to him in
grateful homage?  And why has he filled the air with
music, and provided for our producing it by artificial
means, adapting the laws of melody and harmony to our
enjoyment through the sense of hearing?
And are not his provisions and designs the same, in
respect to the sense of appetite? There is but one answer.
If there is no merit in shutting our eyes against the gifts
addressed to the sense of sight, or our ears against the gifts
addressed to the sense of hearing, there can be none in
rejecting the gifts addressed to the sense of appetite. All
of the senses sustain to us the same relation; they are all
equally designed to afford us enjoyment; and they are all
to be governed by the same rules of virtue.
40 
THE NATURAL MOTIVE POWERS.
SELF-DENIAL FOR BENEVOLENT ENDS.
When benevolence induces a person to forego gratifications of appetite for the sake of doing good to his fellowbeings, the virtue of self-denial rests upon higher ground
than that of mere secular morality. When a man denies
himself luxuries, or in any way restricts personal indulgences, for the sake of saving the cost of them to supply
the wants of the destitute, or to afford relief to the suffering, or to send the Gospel to the heathen, he adopts the
Christian principle.
Nor does he herein act the ascetic, aspiring to be
righteous overmuch; for he would gratefully enjoy the
luxury and bestow the favor too, if he could; -but seeing
he cannot do both, his benevolent heart prompts him nobly
to relinquish personal gratification, for the sake of afford
ing greater and more important good to others. This is
the self-sacrificing spirit of Christianity.
THE BEST MEANS OF GOVERNING THE APPETITES.
It is not the highest order of morality, that does little
else than maintain severe and scrupulous exactness in
regard to the appetites. Not that they should ever be
ungoverned, or ever allowed to transgress in the least particular; but to be ever inquiring to what extent they may
be indulged, and how they may be kept in due subjection,
tends to debase the mind, and to displace nobler motives
of action.
Indeed such a course sometimes tends, by a natural
law, to render the appetites more ungovernable. When
the conscience is duly enlightened, and the aspirations of
the soul are pure and elevated, the lower propensities
naturally fall into their proper place. Hence the best of
41 
fMORAL PHILOSOPHY.
all directions for governing the appetites, is, to have some
worthy and absorbing object in view, and to be diligently
engaged in pursuing it.
The truly noble man governs his appetites almost unconsciously.  Like dutiful children, they render him cheerful obedience. Not clamorous for their rights, they never
set up the standard of rebellion. Rightly trained from infancy, submission has become their habit. As they never
solicit undue indulgence, it is never needful to lay upon
them any painful restraint. To "keep under the body
and bring it into subjection," is no arduous task.
Such a man lives, not by a rule of mechanical exactness, or of pedantic and self-conscious accuracy, but by
the lofty impulse of a divine heroism. Hiigh aims and
high endeavors, conscientiously pursued, place him above
the reach of temptations addressed to his lower propensities.  Such is the high-souled man.  But he whose moral
history is made up of attempts nicely to define the exact
limit of virtuous indulgence and to keep precisely within
it, lives at a mean rate, and can never in this way reach
a point of excellence worth naming.
42 
CHAPTER III.
MORBID APPETITES.
Two causes operate to impart morbid or diseased action
to the appetites. In the first place, the organs of the sense
of appetite may be in a diseased or abnormal condition.
When the organs of the sense of sight are diseased, its vision is unnatural; so when the organs of the sense of appetite are diseased, its cravings are unnatural.
In the second place, appetite may be disordered by
excessive and repeated indulgence, by which a bad habit is
formed. There are then both the disease of the organ
and the power of the evil habit to be overcome, before
healthy appetite can be restored.  The influence of the
two is reciprocal; repetition increases the disease, and the
disease instigates repetition.
Dugald Stewart calls them acquired appetites.  "Besides our natural appetites," he says, "we have many acguired ones.   Such are our appetites for tobacco, for
opium, and other intoxicating drugs. In general, every
thing that stimulates the nervous system produces a subsequent languor, which gives rise to a repetition." *   lie
* Active and Moral Powers, p. 12. 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
here confounds appetite itself with the cravings to which
it gives rise. When the appetite, designed to suggest
the appropriate nourishing stimulant, becomes perverted
or morbid, it produces unnatural cravings for Aurtful
stimulants, such as alcohol, opium, tobacco, and highly
seasoned dishes.
APPETITE DISEASED BY NATURE.
It may be a question how far appetite is everoriginally diseased.  It seems to be a law of nature, that the
peculiarities of parents, both physical and mental, descend
in some measure to their posterity. This law extends to
diseases. The morbid states as well as the constitutional
peculiarities of parents, become to some extent the inheritance of their children. The vices of sensuality and their
sad effects, are propagated by blood scarcely less than by
example. This appears to be one of the ways in which
God "visits the iniquities of the fathers upon their children,
unto the third and fourth generation." This fact should
be an effectual inducement to all who would not entail
calamities upon their offspring, to avoid every kind of
vicious indulgence.
APPETITE DISEASED IN INFANCY.
While vitiosity of appetite may be to some extent inherited, it is doubtless more due to the nursing and the
habits of infancy. The seeds of intemperance may be implanted in children long before they arrive at years of discretion. Intoxicating drinks taken by the mother and
retaken by the infant at the breast, cordials administered
as a beverage or an anodyne, may implant the germs of
morbid appetite, which future years will serve only to
mature.   Appetite thus depraved operates through the
44 
THIE NATURAL MOTIVE POWERS.
subsequent periods of childhood, producing various cravings for injurious indulgences, which nothing but the
most determined self-denial can resist; and which, alas,
are too often allowed to destroy their victims.
There is then a serious responsibility upon all who
have infancy and childhood in charge, to practise great
caution in forming the appetite. No propensity of our
nature is more easily affected at an early age, for good or
for evil, than this. Physicians have mostly ceased to encourage nursing mothers to take intoxicating drinks, and
to countenance the frequent administering of drugs and
cordials to children. Pure air, simple diet, invigorating
exercise, and cheerful society, are the natural means of
fostering healthy appetite.
APPETITE VITIATED IN YOUTH.
Whatever may be the depravity of appetite obtained
by inheritance, or in the period of infancy, it cannot annul the subsequent obligation of the individual to control
it. If a youth finds himself the unhappy victim of morbid
appetites, urging him to vicious indulgences, he should
put in requisition the greater self-denial and the more determined efforts to be virtuous. Hle should take counsel
of reason, not of appetite; he should listen to the voice of
God and of conscience, cautiously shun temptations, and
address himself with unflinching determination to his
duty. And for encouragement he should consider that
the greater the struggle, the more glorious the victory,
and the richer the reward.
The appetites are not often so depraved at birth, or in
infancy, as to render it very difficult for a virtuous will to
control them. The severest trials which men realize from
them, are of their own procuring. It is during the period
45 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
of youth, between the ages of ten and twenty-five, when
passion is ardent, reason immature, and habit in the process of formation, that persons are most liable to render
their desire for pleasure strong by indulgence, and thus to
fall victims to its demands. Since many descend to ruin
in this way, it may not be amiss, for a warning to the
young, to indicate the leading steps in the process.
1. Inordinate desire for present pleasure.-Since indulgence affords present enjoyment, it makes the youth of
strong desires and little forethought its easy victim. He
has as yet tasted only the sweet, none of the bitterness, of
vice.  Hence, regardless of the counsels of parents and
teachers, of the commands of God, and of the admonitions
of conscience, he gives himself up to pleasure. At length
the abused appetites, as if in retaliation for this unlawful
use of them, assume the reins and hurry their victim into
still bolder and more desperate steps towards ruin.
2. The infuence of bad example.-Having entered
upon this course, he finds companions to keep him in countenance, and help him along in it. Associated with those
more advanced than himself in vice, he finds his progress
greatly facilitated. The tendency to imitate is perhaps
never stronger with those who have deviated from the path
of virtue, than when vicious indulgence is the object.
Indeed the mutual influence of pleasure-seeking companions in confirming each other's vices, is almost irresistible. "The companion of fools shall be destroyed."
The only possible hope for one thus ensnared, is in the
dissolution of the companionship; an event which he is
usually slow to desire.
3. False association of ideas. The youth supposed is
yet more encouraged in his course, by associating indulgence with high life and independence.   He knows sons
of rich and distinguished parents, moving with honor in
46 
THE NATURAL MOTIVE POWERS.
fashionable circles, who practise unblushingly the vices to
which he is inclined.   Not regarding true excellence
as independent of external condition not having learned
to associate virtue with honor, and vice with disgrace,
under all circumstances; the free indulgence of appetite
becomes with him a matter of ambition, as well as of
pleasure.
He scorns to be numbered with the stupid slaves of
superstition, or with the humble poor who cannot aford
to indulge; he aspires to freedom, and to an honorable
rank.  Thus becoming one of those "who glory in their
shame," his pride and appetite unite their forces to destroy
him.
4. A  Vicious imagina tion.-His imagination having
become perversely active, fills his mind with corrupting
images.  It vividly mirrors to him "the wine when it is
red, when it giveth its color in the cup, when it moveth
itself aright," and the numerous accompanying objects
which minister to depraved appetites. Objects, thus furnished by the imagination, have frequently as much power
to excite the cravings of appetite, as those actually present.
In some cases they have even more. Thus one of the
finest of the mental faculties, given to elevate and enrich
the soul, becomes by perversion a fatal instrument for its
destruction.
5. Utter recklessness of thefutuure.-The frenzied appetites at length render their victim desperate.   There
is now scarcely a risk which he will not encounter, nor terror which he will not brave, for the sake of their indulgence.
His ruin has thus approached the point of completion.
His remaining days upon earth will probably be few; but
whether few or many, they will never be to him again as
they have been.
That glorious sun will never again shine upon his head
47 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
with golden beams, as in the days of his innocence and
hope; the sweet music of nature, that once came to his
bounding and joyous spirit like angel-voices, is turned into
the deep and hollow wail of a ruined life; all creation,
once green, bright, and charming, looks faded, withered,
repulsive; and often, under a painful conviction of his
ruin and the pangs of remorse, he almost sighs for the
dreaded grave to bury him for ever from the world and
from himself. If in Paris, his presence in a den of gamblers may be suddenly missed, and the morning may find
his remains at the foot of the Triumphal Arch, or floating
in the Seine.
6. The closi;ng scene. —But if he lives in America, and
has received Christian instruction, he will not probably terminate his days by suicide. A lingering probation of misery awaits him. The appetites which once afforded him
pleasure, now exhausted of their resources, refuse to do so
any longer; and he is thus left both to the painful chidings
of conscience, and to the cruel mercy of those long-cherished and remorseless cravings, that can never be satisfied.
Nothing short of one of those rare miracles of mercy,
which Heaven in the stupendous reaches of its grace sometimes deigns, can avail to rescue him, and to turn him,
through agonies of repentance and of struggle, into the long
forsaken paths of virtue.   Few indeed, in this stage of
vice, are ever reclaimed. Nearly all die as they have
lived, leaving the hearts of surviving friends to weep bitter tears, and the loving breezes of heaven vainly to sigh
over their dishonored graves.
THE REVERSE OF THE ABOVE PROCESS.
Every youth, however morbid his early or acquired
appetites, may, by commencing early, entirely reverse the
48 
THE NATURAL MOTIVE POWERS.
above process. His moral salvation is yet, under God, in
his own keeping. He may become a virtuous, high-mind ed, and happy man, reigning as a king over all his house.
But in order to this, he must enter at once upon  a per sistent conflict. He must adopt and firmly maintain the
rule of him who said, "I keep under my body and bring it
into subjection." He must now, henceforth, and for ever,
count all pleasures valueless, which are obtained at the
expense of virtue.
He must disconnect all vicious indulgences from the
fascinations and allurements with which they are too
often connected.   He must never associate them with
respectability and greatness, however arrayed with splendor, or commended by wealth and fashion; he must
practically esteem them as mean and disgraceful as they
are morally wrong and wicked. The principle of 8elfrespect will thus arm him against them.
iHe must check the wanderings of  imagination, guide
but not cool its burning energies, and bid it rise to objects
pure and ennobling. Whether it be a novel, a picture,
a song, a theatrical exhibition, or even a fact of history
or personal knowledge, that would defile his thoughts, and
excite vicious cravings of appetite, he must turn away
from it, and for ever shun it, as he would a pestilence that
walketh in darkness.
He must also shun all bad company. Until his vicious
habits have become thoroughly subdued, and virtuous
habits firmly established, vicious companions will present
temptations formidable for him to withstand. He must,
therefore, resolutely cut himself entirely off from all " fellowship with the unfruitful works of darkness," from all
communion with those who  are pursuing "the lusts of
the flesh," and throw himself heartily into the society and
sympathies of the strictly virtuous. " He that walketh
3
49 
MORAL PIILOSOPHY.
with wise men shall be wise, but the companion of fools
shall be destroyed."
But he must not think to govern his appetites by making war on nature, acting the ascetic, and denying himself
innocent amusements and wAolesome pleasures.   There
are such, and all youth must have them.  If they do not,
restrained nature will react, will demand her rights; and,
if she cannot have them in one form, she will have them
in another. If she is denied them in innocence, she will
have them in guilt
Let the youth supposed, then, cultivate and indulge
the pleasures of his higher nature. Let him add to his
diligence in business the culture of literature, of taste, of
poetry, of music, of refined social recreations and amusements; let him feast his imagination and elevate his desires, by communing with the beauties of nature and the
triumphs of art. Thus, taking hold upon the higher pleasures of his rational soul, he will naturally leave the inferior pleasures of appetite to fall into their appropriate
place of subordination.
Above all, conscious of his weakness and guilt, he must
throw himself upon the strength and grace of God; and
he must set an infinite value upon those virtuous principles and high endeavors, which, superior to present indulgence, and patient of all needful self-denial, can afford to
wait long and toil hard, in expectation of glorious reward
in the future. Persisting in this course, an approving
conscience will sustain him; he will teach his appetites
obedience; he will feel the delightful assurance that he
is gaining the victory and rising in character. Hie will
soon find the wise and virtuous gathering about him and
becoming his personal friends. Hle will at last have the
unspeakable satisfaction of respecting himself, as a man
of conscious virtue, and of receiving the growing confidence and esteem of mankind.
50 
THE NATURAL MOTIVE POWERS.
As in the previous chapter we endeavored to show how
the  natural appetites should be controlled; so in this we
have endeavored to show how the morbid appetites should
be restored. The youth who would do well for himself, is
earnestly requested to examine the directions, and to
apply them as his case may demand.
51 
CHAPTER IV.
NATURAL AFFECTION.
AFFECTION is the feeling usually termed love and  atred.
It is attended with more or less emotion, and when the
emotional element is intense it becomes a passion. Hence
we say a person is passionately in love.  The passion may
be great, and yet be attended with little or no benevolence
towards its object. This is a very impure affection, and
sometimes degenerates to mere lust. And so also the passion of anger, which is a feeling of excited hostility, may
become less and less rational, and thus pass into a blind
frenzy.   But the simple affection itself, as a primitive
faculty, is to be distinguished from these passionate excitements.
DISTINCTION BETWEEN AFFECTION ANiD DESIRE.
Affection has respect to persons; desire, to whatever
respects their enjoyment, or their suffering. We love or
lhate the man; we desire his good or harm. We love our
children; we desire their happiness. Religious men love
God, they desire to promote his glory. Thus the object
of affection is living beings; the object of desire is inanimate things. 
THE NATURAL MOTIVE POWERS.
There is an affection, also, which we bestow upon the
brute creation, but it is of a different kind from that which
we bestow upon rational beings.   We justly consider a
person wanting in some important qualities of heart, who
manifests no love towards animals. A man may truly love
his faithful dog, although the affection is unlike that which
hlie has for his child. The girl may love her playful kitten,
but not as she does her little brother.
Men sometimes speak of loving certain kinds of food
and drink. But we have not an afection for them; it is
a desire or eelish.  We also speak of loving our homes,
firesides, the graves of friends; of loving scenes of rural
quiet, groves, mountains, sequestered valleys.   So far
as real affection is concerned, and not merely impassioned desire and sentiment, our feeling here results from
associating these objects with living beings.
The sacred writers sometimes employ the same term,
comprehensively, to designate both affection and desire.
"Love not the world, nor the things that are in the world."
" Set your affection on things above."   Men also speak,
in popular language, of loving money and applause.
Strictly speaking, however, it is not an affection which
they have for these things; it is a covetous and vain desire.
Affection, as we have seen, is not merely a feeling of
love; it includes the opposite, hatred. Whether the malevolent affection is a part of our original constitution, or
a result of the apostasy, love turned to hate, is a fair quLestion, which we may consider hereafter. And here again
it is restricted to conscious beings.   We may hate a fellow-being; we may also, in an inferior sense, hate certain
animals, as a toad or a snake, but we cannot properly be
said to hate an inanimate object.  It does not appear
that the woman hated the serpent, before the fall; on the
contrary, she seems to have loved it too confidingly; but
53 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
the fall put enmity between them, and turned the love to
hatred.
Brutes have natural affection, but not moral. Hlaving
no rational nature, no conscience, their affections can
never be regulated by moral principle, and must therefore remain mere instincts.
The most important of the natural affections are the
following:
1. Parental Affection.
2. Filial Affection.
3. Fraternal Affection.
4. Conjugal Affection.
5. Social Affection.
We shall examine them in the above order.
I. PARENTAL AFFECTION.
Parental affection is the love of parents towards their
ofspring. It is not restricted to our race; we share it
with brutes. It does not spring from the relation itself,
but from the knowledge or belief that it exists. An animal loves and nourishes the young of another as fondly as
her own, if she receives the charge under circumstances to
conceal the imposition. The same is true of the human
affection. Let a new-born infant be presented to a mother,
in case her own is dead; let her from the first suppose that
infant to be her own offspring; and she will have for it
the genuine mother's affection.
Hence the idea entertained by some of a certain discriminating feeling, leading parents to recognize and love
their own offspring independently of the admonition of
the senses, is a pure chimera. We trace the parental
affection to its source, when we say, the parent is so
constituted that the moment she sees in the infant child
54 
THE NATURAL MOTIVE POWERS.
her own or her supposed offspring, a peculiar feeling towards it springs up in her heart. This feeling is parental
love; and it is as spontaneous as the desire for food, or
the flow of the blood.
Parental Iove fodiXfed by Circumstances.-Thus commences the parental affection. It is born into the world
under the same providence that gives birth to the infant,
that it may embrace the helpless stranger, and care for
its wants. But let that infant die, or be for ever separated
from its parents, and the intensity of the affection will
gradually diminish. This is a merciful provision.
On the other hand, let the infant grow up under the
fostering care of the parent, and every day will entwine
new chords of love around the parent's heart. Every
smile and every tear, every joy and every pain, of the
cherished and dependent child, augments the parental
love. This, again, is a kind provision; since every additional care and anxiety for the child, demands a fresh supply of love to sustain it.
-Desigq  of PareTtat Afection.-1. It is the first obvious design of this affection to secure the equisite attention of parents to their offspring.   In the case of the
brute, it is the only means of securing it. Without this,
all the offspring of brutes which are dependent on parental care, would be left to perish.
A sense of duty should indeed induce parents to take
care of their children; but it would not do to depend upon
this motive alone.   In multitudes it is nearly or quite
wanting; and in all, at some periods of life, it is too feeble
and inconstant to insure the result. Without the promptings of parental love to supply its place, or to attend it,
multitudes of infant children, which are now cared for,
would undoubtedly be abandoned to suffering and death.
2. This affection seems to have been designed to ren
55 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
der parents happy in their duties to their offspring. What
a burden would be imposed upon the mother, if all her
care and watchfulness were from a mere sense of duty!
With what languid step and heavy heart would the toilworn father go to his daily task, to earn bread for his dependent family, if he did not love them. The thought
of taking the dear little ones on his knee at evening, reconciles him to the labors of the day.
As the mother has usually more to do with the children than the father has; as it is especially her suffering
and patience that are taxed; so to her is given the larger
portion of parental love. Indeed, the heart of the affectionate mother has been well called "the masterpiece of
nature's works." There is perhaps no other form in which
humanity appears so lovely, or "presents so fair a copy
of the divine image after which it was made."
It is often truly said, that parents love their children
more than children do their parents.  Here again is a
gracious adaptation of means to ends. Parents have ordinarily more to do for their children, than children for
their parents. The providing, the care, the anxiety, the
patience, the sacrifice of health, and sometimes of life itself, are all mostly on the parent's side.  Hence the parent naturally regqure8 the greater share of love.
3. This affection is designed to subserve important
mnoral and reli%fious ends.   It imparts earnestness and
perseverance to the efforts of parents, to train up their
children in the way they should go. Thus nature prompts
the parent to do what duty demands. How many sons
have been rescued from destruction by the promptings of
maternal love. There is, perhaps, no principle of our nature, with which Christianity more gracefully blends, or
which it more charmingly adorns, than parental love.
56 
THE NATURAL MOTIVE POWERS.
II. FILIAL AFFECTION.
Filial affection is the love of childre      ta  teowards te
parents. This, as well as the preceding, springs not from
the relation itself, but from the knowledge of it, or belief
that it exists. The child that has always supposed his
nurse to be his own mother, has towards her all the natural love of an own child. The same is true of his relation to the supposed father. If only the longing to sustain the relation expressed by the word own, as related to
the parent, is gratified, the filial affection springs into life.
Tfow the flial afection  is developed.-Althoughl filial
love is as truly instinctive as parental, it is not so soon developed. As it does not depend upon the relation itself,
but upon the child's knowledge of it, it cannot of course
be exercised until the child is old enough to comprehend
the relation. But filial love, in its early stages, has more
of passion and less of benevolence than parental love has.
Hence the child loves his mother, who smiles upon him
and gives him kisses and sweetmeats, more than he loves
his father who toils for his bread. As he grows older, and
better appreciates the father's labors, he divides his affections more equally; but the early cares and caresses of the
fond mother have so preoccupied his heart, that he seldom
fails to give her his warmest affection through life.
It is often said that daughters love their fathers more
than they do their mothers, and that sons love their
mothers more than they do their fathers. If this be so,
it may be owing to the tendencies of the sexes to love
each other; the more delicate qualities of the one and the
stern qualities of the other awakening a reciprocity of interest; and perhaps, also, to the fact, that the father has
the principal government of the sons, and the mother of
57 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
the daughters, each thereby in a measure thwarting the
icelinations with which natural affection is intimately
blended. For although an ungoverned child does not
truly love, the child is very apt to give the greater share
of affection to that one of the parents, from whom the least
restraint and punishment directly come.
Design of filial afection.-Filial affection was designed to secure the needful submi,sion of children to
their parents. Unless the offspring of brutes had some
attachment to their parents, they would die of exposure
and starvation. It is essential to their preservation, that
they should be subject to guardianship. The same is true
of children. Incapable of taking care of themselves, in
the exercise of their own will, they must be subject to
the will of their parents. Filial affection tends to secure
this subjection.
The same affection also makes the child happy in this
subjection.   Obedience is not cordial without it.  The
child is cheerful and glad to obey his parents, only as
he loves them. Without love, like the prisoner in chains,
he submits only from necessity.
This affection is also designed to subserve moral and
?eligiou8 ends.  Many a parent has been saved from vice
and ruin through efforts prompted by filial love.   Such is
the reciprocity of effort for each other's welfare, induced
by the mutual love of parents and children, that morality
and religion have ever looked to it with special and availing hope.
III. FRATERNAL AFFECTION.
Fraternal affection is the love which exists between
children of the same family. It originates, like the preceding, with the knowledge of the relation. A peculiar
affection is enkindled by the knowledge of an own brother
58 
THIE NATURAL MOTIVE POWERS.
or sister; and, unless destroyed by some untoward event,
it is as lasting as life.
This affection does not seem to exist in the brute creation, excepting as it is occasioned by the offspring of the
same parent being associated together.   Their affections
are merely social, because their knowledge does not embrace the nature of the fraternal relation.
-Design of,fraternal affection.-As children of the same
family have an interest especially common; as they commence existence in the same nursery, gather in the same
domestic circle, sit around the same table, share in the
same inheritance, participate in the same joys and afflictions; it was needful that they should have an affection
especially adapted to this relation.
Fraternal love was designed to render brothers and sisters happy, earnest, faithful in devotion to each other's
welfare and to the common interests of the household.
When this love is true and constant, it presents one of the
most lovely scenes on earth.
What more pleasing than to see the elder sister extending an almost maternal care over her younger brothers?
Or the brother tenderly watchful of the character, the
wants, the happiness, of his sisters?   What  sight better
calculated to impress convictions of the wisdom and goodness of the Creator in implanting these affections, than
that of a family whose members thus seem to seek each
other's welfare as sincerely as they do their own!
Fraternal affection has often less of passion and more
of benevolence than conjugal. Unless some alienating
circumstances interpose, it commonly lasts through life,
and induces brothers and sisters to make sacrifices for each
other's good, which they will make for no other human
beings, excepting those of their own families.   It is thus
one of the strongest as well as most lovely of the natural
59 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
affections. Solomon has even honored it so highly as to
make it inferior only to the highest and best of all affections.   "There is a friend that  sticketh closer than a
brother."
IV. CONJUGAL AFFECTION.
Conjugal affection is the love that exists between hugsband and wife.  It differs in the order of development from
fraternal and filial love.   Instead of spring,ng from the
perceived relation of the parties, it gives rise to it.  They
do not love each other because they are married, but they
were married because they loved.
Another peculiarity of this affection is, that it exists
only between the sexes. It is therefore apt to have, especially in its earliest stages, more of passion and less of
benevolence than the love of kindred. But after the parties have become legally united, so that each is felt to be
rightfully and for ever the other's own, a new desire is
gratified, a new element is added to the affection; and
from this time it has all the qualities of conjugal love. It
gradually becomes more chastened, pure, benevolent; it
becomes stronger and steadier; and is finally the most dominant and enduring natural affection of the human heart.
Although provision is made for conjugal love, in the
physical and mental constitution, it is optional with us
whether to avail ourselves of this provision. Many live
and die apparently satisfied, without ever tasting the
sweets of conjugal love. But as provision was made for
it in our nature, it is clear that Providence designed it,
and that to be married, at a suitable age, is the most
natural and the happiest state of man.
-Design of conjugal affection.-The objects contemplated by conjugal affection, are, the continuance of the
species; the united care and training of offspring; the
60 
THE NATURAL MOTIVE POWERS.
mutual happiness of the parties in each other, and in
their children; and, generally, all the benefits of the do
mestic constitution. It was not good that man should be
alone, hence, the Creator made an " help-meet for" him;
but had he only made the help-meet, without making provision in the nature of each party for the conjugal affection, the relation would have been a task instead of a
pleasure.
Were it made the duty of parties to unite in marriage,
without conjugal love, that duty would be seldom undertaken and poorly executed.   Conjugal love heightens
every enjoyment, lightens every burden, divides every
care, relieves all anxieties, sweetens afflictions, and strews
all along life's toilsome and rugged path the flowers and
fruits of primeval paradise.
Hence the design of the marriage covenant.  This covenant, provided for in the constitution of the sexes, was
instituted in paradise by God himself. To it are due all
the inestimable blessings of domestic life; and, indirectly,
of all those social and civil relations which elevate and
adorn the human race.
Thus all the family affections combine to form, protect,
and bless the domestic institution; the most important
institution upon earth, and that on which all others depend. Nothing can be imagined more worthy of Him
who made and blessed it, nothing can be more fruitful of
good to mankind, than the family in which all the parental, filial, conjugal, and fraternal affections are fully developed, and are in healthy and harmonious play.  Such
a family, itself happy, is both the germ and the emblem
of a happy civil community, a happy state, a happy nation. Thus all our hopes, for our country and for the
world, revert to the family, and depend upon the domestic
affections.
61 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
V. SOCIAL AFFECTION.
This affection differs from those which we have examined in being les8s seC,flc.  Love for more distant kindred,
for members of the same society, for townsmen, for countrymen, is naturally less intense than that which we have
for our family relatives, but is not wholly different. We
love our cousins, partly because we feel that some of our
family blood flows in their veins. There is in it something
of thefraternal feeling. For a similar reason we love persons of our race more than those of another.   We  love
Americans and Englishmen more than Indians and Hottentots, because they are naturally nearer to us.  More
of their blood flows in our veins.
Exceptions to the above rule occur only when affection takes an eccentric and unnatural direction. For this
reason, people of the same race incline to intermarry and to
form nations. And hence marriages between individuals
of nations very unlike each other, as between an Englishman and a Chinese, are clearly contrary to the design of
Providence. We feel an instinctive repugnance to all
such unnatural alliances.
On the other hand, near relatives, however sincere
and intense their mutual love, do not naturally have for
each other a conjugal affection. Intermarriage between
them is also further interdicted by the fact, that it tends
to the destruction of both mind and body, and thus to the
ultimate extinction of the race. Hence the true conjugal
affection exists between parties of the same or similar
nations, and of similar taste and culture, but of different
family connections.
The affection which results merely from being of the
same society, town, or country, is easily accounted for.
62 
TIlE NATURAL MOTIVV POWERS.
Intercourse and identity of interests naturally tend to
beget mutual  affection.   They produce  similarity of
views,  tastes, principles, habits;  they introduce  men
to that intimate acquaintance with each other's private
life, from which affection mostly originates. Our conscious love is mostly restricted to those with whom we
have, by personal intercourse or by other means, a somewhat intimate knowledge. Hence the affection between
members of the same literary, secular, or religious society.
They have common views and instincts, and they often
meet together under circumstances favorable to excite
firiendly feelings.
We may not be conscious of any peculiar affection for
the people of our own town, state, or nation, whilst we
are in the midst of them, but after having passed some
time in a strange land, we greet one of them as a brother.
Persons who scarcely cared to speak with each other in
their native place, on meeting in distant lands, can hardly
express their mutual satisfaction.
Affection fo  our  country, orpatriotism.-Thle particular affection which we have for the people of our own
country, together with the special interest we take in its
soil, its institutions, its struggles, its conquests, its fortunes,
is termed patiotism.  Imagination and association have
much agency in producing this affection.
Patriotism is usually truer and more intense ill small
than in large countries, and in countries rough and barren
than in those smoother and more fertile. The reason, in the
former case, is, that the people are brought nearer together;
that their interests are more strictly one; and that, in their
relative feebleness as a nation, they are more dependent
upon each other. In the latter case, the common struggles
and mutual sympathy of the people, in the peculiar exposures and hardships of their condition, as in the case
63 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
of the Swiss, the Highlanders of Scotland, and the Laplanders, tend to endear them to each other.
then, however, a nation becomes  very large and
powerful, so as to hold a proud rank among other nations, as was the ease with the Roman empire, and is now
the ease with the British empire, and with the United
States, there is an appeal to the national love of glory,
which operates powerfully upon the people to attach them
to their country and to its institutions.
GENERAL REMARKS UPON THE AFFECTIONS.
We have thus noticed the leading affections which
are strictly natural, and the purposes  for which they
were  designed.   Had  they  been wanting,  our  race
would have long since ceased from the earth, or
would have continued only to perpetuate its wretchedness. As they are excellent in their nature, and
perfectly adapted to their end, they reflect honor upon
their Creator, but imply no praiseworthiness in us.
They are his doing; not ours.  But while the mere presence of them implies in us no moral worthiness, their
absence or abuse implies guilty violence done to our nature, and usually results from a profligate life. Hie that
is "without natural affection," is in the Bible ranked
among the vilest of men.
It should also be observed, that as God has commanded
us to exercise these affections, while it is an immorality
and a sin to withhold or pervert them, to exercise them
in the spirit of obedience to the divine will, is both a
moral and a religious act. On the right use of them our
character eminently depends. Some of the purest joys of
life on earth, and most seraphic joys of eternal life in
heaven, spring from obedient and holy affection.
64 
CHAPTER V.
NATURAL DESIRE.
SOME  authors confound  desire with  appetite.   What
Whewell terms "bodily desire" is occasioned by appetite, but the cause and the effect should not be identified.
Appetite, as we have seen, is a permanent principle of
our nature, but we desire food or drink only when appetite is excited by a state of hunger or thirst. And, as to
all other desires, they may exist in every state of the physical system. A man desires food only when he is hungry; but he as much desires fame, wealth, power, knowledge, after his hunger is satisfied, as he did before.
Hence, neither class of desires should be identified with
appetite.
Desire differs from emotion, in the following particulars. First, emotion has reference to the past, as well as
to the future: desire has respect only to the future.
Hence Thomas  Brown  calls desire "prospective  emotion."  But the emotion attending desire is not the desire
itself. Secondly, desire is less fluctuating than emotion.
While emotion rises and falls, like the sea-tides, desire
moves steadily onward, like the river, to its object. Emo 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
tion is more immediately dependent than purely mental
desire upon exciting causes. We hence speak of the cause
of emotion and of the origin of desire. Thirdly, emotion
may exist in reference to objects of aversion, hatred, disgust; but desire always implies the wishing or longing
for its object.
The most important of the natural desires are the following:
1. Desire of Life.
2. Desire of Ilappiness.
3. Desire of Society.
4. Desire of Knowledge.
5. Desire of Esteem.
6. Desire of Owmning.
7. Desire of Power.*
DESIRE OF LIFE.
A desire to live for ever is natural to all human beings.
Agonizing or protracted disease, repeated disappointments, the pangs of remorse, sometimes overcome it; but
no other desire so long and so resolutely resists their attacks.  It is the last to die out of the heart.  "All that a
man hath will he give for his life." When we hear a man
say, his existence has become such a burden that hle has
no longer any desire for life, our sympathy is excited for
him, as one on whom crime or misfortune has laid its
heaviest hand.
Some suppose that the desire of life results from a consideration of the good connected with it. But the fact
* Reid reckons three primitive desires, that of Power, of Knowledge, and
of Esteem. Vol. IV., p. 76. Stewart makesfive, adding to the above, Desire
of Society and of Superiority. Whewell also has five, but substitutes Desire
of Safety, and of Having, for Stewart's Desire of Knowledge  and of Power.
Vol. I. p. 42.
66 
THE NATURAL MOTIVE POWERS.
that men cling tenaciously to it, sometimes even in the
entire absence of all present or prospective good, and in
despite of the most appalling evils, justifies the conclusion
that they have a strong inborn desire of life for its own
sake.
The most important of the purposes which it seems
designed to subserve are the three following.
1. It was designed to protect life.-By connecting the
desire of life with our existence, the Creator has given a
guardian angel to protect us. Without this, how feebly
should we endure our trials; how often should we be fatally tempted to throw life away! Sustained by this, man
often submits to protracted pains of hunger, to agonizing
operations upon his body, and to endless varieties of intense mental suffering. It serves to render him patient,
enduring, victorious.
There is, indeed, a higher motive, a sense of duty, that
should induce us to prize and protect life; but this does
not operate in all, nor in any at so early a period, or with
such unfailing constancy, as the case requires. Hiere, as
in many other instances, natural instinct serves as a substitute or an aid to moral principle, in securing our welfare.
2. This desire contributes to our enjoyment.-Cooperating with the sense of duty, it makes it our pleasure to
cherish and protect life. If parents had no desire for the
continuance of their offspring, if all labors and sufferings
for them were prompted only by a sense of duty, the happiness of the parental relation would be immeasurably
diminished. For the same reason, if we had no natural
desire of our own life, if all we do and suffer to protect it
were from a mere feeling of obligation, much of the service that we now enjoy would become an irksome and
painful burden.
67 
]MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
3. This desire has a moral and religious end.-It has
been already said, that the desire in question combines
with the feeling of duty in enabling us to struggle with
trials. It thus helps us to gain a victory on the side of
virtue. Nor is this all. The same desire of life, projecting itself into eternity, predisposes us to welcome that
Gospel which brings life and immortality to light. One
of the strongest holds which Christianity has upon us, is
found in our desire to live for ever.
The desire of life moves us also to gratitude. In granting us from day to day what we ever desire, our Creator
makes constant demands upon our grateful acknowledgments; a debt which we should never be slow to pay.
And when he lifts the gate of the tomb, and points us to
an endless life beyond it, language is too feeble to express
the gratitude we owe.
The Christian is reconciled to the dissolution of the
body, not because life is to him a burden, but because he
has faith in Him who said, " He that believeth in me
shall never die." Never is his desire of life more real
and intense, than at the moment when he is about to die.
DESIRE OF RAPPINESS.
Some have considered this the only primitive desire,
laying the foundation for all the others. Thus they suppose the desire of life, of society, of knowledge, &c., only
secondary to that of happiness, the former being valued
only as means to the latter. This view, advocated by
Hume, Hobbes, and others, is sometimes called the selfsh
scheme, because it makes all human desires and actions
spring from motives of personal happiness. It is a sufficient refutation of this view, that the primitive desires
seek their ends, irrespective of consequences. This may at
68 
THE NATURAL MOTIVE POWERS.
first seem a begging of the question. There can be no
doubt that the desire of happiness is all-pervading. It
commences with our rational existence, operates at all
times, and modifies all our actions. We cannot annihilate it, if we would. It is probably the most constant and
powerful natural motive of which we are the subjects.
It does not follow, however, that we desire nothing but
from a mere regard to happiness. Instead of saying that we
desire life, society, knowledge, esteem, only-for the happiness they afford, we ought rather to say, that they afford us
happiness because we have an instinctive desire for them.
We should find little enjoyment in society, if we had not
a social nature. Thus our desire of happiness harmonizes with our other instincts, as well as with our moral
nature.
But while some have supposed that all our other desires, even those of a religious nature, spring from the desire of happiness, it has been maintained, on the other
hand, that this motive ought to have no place. The notion of a disinterested benevolence has even been pressed
so far, as to denounce every desire, affection, and act, not
disconnected from all motives of personal happiness. This
again is making war upon the wisdom of the Creator.
Such a notion, seriously entertained, puts conscientiously
religious persons upon the rack of self-torture, to divest
themselves of a portion of their mental constitution; thus
introducing discouragement and gloom into the soul, in
place of repentance and hope; or, what is scarcely less to
be deprecated, mocks them with the vain presumption,
fatal to all genuine humility, that they have at last made
the more than angelic attainment. He who imagines
himself entirely indifferent to his own happiness, is either
deceived or insane.
69 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
DESIRE OF SOCIETY.
Man is by nature a social being. Indeed the disposition to associate and share each other's pursuits and enjoyments, seems to pervade all living creatures. The
domestic fowls about our dwellings, the sheep and cattle
in our pastures, the wild deers and buffaloes in the forest,
the birds of the air, the fishes of the sea, all manifest the
same propensity.
Something analogous to this seems to pervade even the
inanimate creation. All atoms and all portions of matter
tend to unite.  The stars of heaven move in clusters; no
one of them wanders in space alone. Each has a mission
for others, as well as for itself.
So strong is the disposition in creatures to associate,
that, when deprived of society from their own species,
they seek it in others; even those whom they naturally
hate. Thus sheep and dogs, horses and oxen, cats and
birds, for want of companions of their own species, have
sometimes formed earnest attachments with each other.
For the same reason, men in solitude have sometimes
become intensely attached to the most hateful creatures.
"The Count de Lauzun was confined for nine years in
the castle of Pignerol, in a small room, where no light
could enter but from a chink in the roof. In this solitude
he attached himself to a spider, and continued for some
time to amuse himself with attempting to tame it, with
catching flies for its support, and with superintending the
progress of the webs. The jailer discovered his amuseient, and killed the spider; and thfe Count used afterwards
to declare, that the pang he felt on the occasion, could
be compared only to that of a mother for the loss of a
child." *
* Stewart's Active and Moral Powers, p. 25.
70 
THE NATURAL MOTIVE POWERS.
The helplessness of infants forbids in them so early a
development of the social principle, as is seen in animals,
but they manifest it by indubitable signs, as soon as they
are capable. " Attend to the eyes, the features, and the
gestures of a child on the breast, when another child is
presented to it; both instantly, previous to the possibility
of instruction or habit, exhibit the most indubitable expression of joy.  Their eyes sparkle, and their features
and gestures demonstrate, in the most unequivocal manner, a mutual attachment." *
This desire was evidently intended to render beings
subservient to each other's wants, and happy in each
other's society. If they were compelled to associate merely for mutual protection and sustenance, society would be
a burden to be endured rather than a luxury to be enjoyed.
The social principle extends to religious as well as
secular interests, uniting man with man in the bonds of a
common faith. All religious bodies depend upon this
principle, both for their origin and continuance.   But
for this, each individual would only worship his God
alone.  There would be no churches, no common altars,
no social heaven.  The same social instinct which unites
us in the humbler affairs of time, which makes families,
neighborhoods, nations, unites us also in the higher interests of religion, and finally brings human and angelic
beings together, in fulness of sympathy and mutual joy,
around the throne of heaven.
DESIRE OF KENOWLEDGE.
The humnan mind is naturally ingqusit?ve.  It desires
to know. One of the first manifested propensities of the
* Smillie's Phil. Chap. XI.
71 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
little child is, to become acquainted with every object
about him. He is not yet old enough to ask questions,
but his actions indicate to every observer that a thousand
questions are struggling in his mind.  What is this?. What
is that? say his little glancing eyes and busy hands.
The first acts of infancy are engaged in experimenting
with the senses upon the outer world. The infant has
every thing to learn. iHe does not at first know how to
interpret his own sensations and perceptions. Whether
the object before him is at a distance, or in contact with
the eye, whether it is yielding or resistant, substance or
shadow, reality or phantom, he has yet to learn. The inborn principle of curiosity sets him earnestly and successfully upon this work.
Hence the eagerness with which children handle every
thing in their way, their attempts to thrust their fingers
into the flame of a candle, and their readiness to take up
a shadow. The interest they realize in correcting their
errors and gaining new ideas, urges them on, in subsequLent life, to higher attainments; to the investigation of
mathematical truths, historical facts, and all the phenomena of nature.
Nor is the desire of knowledge restricted to obvious
and useful facts.  It soon begins to search out latent
causes. It explores not only the needful, but the curious.
Even when one has no reason to suppose the desired
knowledge will be of any practical utility, he still pursues it. When a physician has lost a patient by an internal cause that has baffled the diagnosis of the profession,
he desires a post-mortem examination, scarcely less to
gratify his curiosity than to guide his future practice.
The astronomer eyes the heavens for months, with intense
gaze, to descry the feeble twinkling of some star, the
knowledge of which can add nothing to the comforts of life.
72 
THE NATURAL MOTIVE POWERS.
If any suppose that thirst for applause occasions all
this, the answer readily is, that were it not for the principle of curiosity in man, ambition could not find in the
popular response any reward for its services. Such is our
desire of knowledge, that we both seek it ourselves, and
bestow the meed of honor upon those who successfully
seek it for us.
This desire was intended both to stimulate us in the
pursuit of knowledge, and to render us happy in obtaining and possessing it. It thus sustains to the mind a relation like that which appetite does to the body.   Knowledge is the mind's appropriate food. But without the desire for it, all study would be mere "weariness of the flesh,"
toil and drudgery, without any rewarding satisfaction.
Incited and nerved by this desire, the human mind
has surmounted immeasurable difficulties; it has scaled
more than Alpine summits.  Urged onward by the same
indomitable principle, it is laying this entire world under
contribution; and it is encouraged in its career, with the
sublime hope of another and a boundless one to explore
beyond the present
DESIRE OF ESTEEM.
No humanft being is entirely indifferent to the opinions
of others respecting him. Indeed man was made to find
much of his enjoyment in the approving smiles of his fellow-beings. We are so constituted, that the approbation
or disapprobation of those especially whom we love, is
cordial or wormwood to our spirits.
We may contend against the desire of esteem, we may
call it by hard names; we may imagine it vanquished;
still it clings to us, as undying and active as the soul itself. It is the Creator's own work within us; why then
should  we condemn or disown it?  Milton calls it an " in
4
73 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
firmity," but the "infirmity of a noble mind."  Some
have endeavored to prove, from a mistaken idea of something wrong in this principle, that it is no part of our
constitution. They maintain that " the esteem of our fellow-creatures is at first desired on account of its apprehended utility, and that it comes in time to be pursued as
an ultimate end, without any reference on our part to the
advantages it bestows." To this notion it has been justly
replied, "As the object of hunger is not happiness, but
food; as the object of curiosity is not happiness, but
knowledge, so the object of this principle of action is not
happiness, but the esteem and respect of other men." *
The desire of esteem is not conifined to the present; it
projects itself into the future. We desire to be held in
honor by our fellow-beings after we are laid in the grave,
scarcely less than while living among them. The numerous monuments of war, of genius, of art, of literature,
which ambition has erected to perpetuate the fame of its
subjects after they have passed away, are all witnesses of
the activity of this principle.
The question is often asked, Why should we desire the
esteem of others, after it can no longer be of any advantage to us?  The answer is, We desire it in future, for the
same reason that we desire it in the present, not for its
advantages, but for itself.
Some attempt to resolve this desire into an illusion of
the imagination, produced by habit. They suppose that
habit has taught men to imagine themselves present, enjoying a reputation among their fellow-beings after they
are dead.   " Men please themselves," says Wollaston,
" with notions of immortality, and fancy a perpetuity of
fame secured to themselves by books and testimonies of
* Stewart, p. 29.
74 
THE NATURAL MOTIVE POWERS.
historians; but, alas! it is a stupid delusion when they
imagine themselves present and enjoying that fame or the
reading of their story after their death.
And beside, in reality, the man is not even known the
more to posterity, because his name is transmitted to them.
]re doth not live, because his name does.  When it is said,
Julius Cesar conquered Gaul, beat Pompey, and changed
the Roman Commonwealth into a monarchy, it is the same
thing as to say, The conqueror of Pompey was Coesar;
that is, Cesar and the conqueror of Pompey are the same
thing, and Cesar is as much known by the one designation
as by the other. The amount, then, is only this, that the
conqueror of Pompey conquered Pompey; or, rather,
since Pompey is now as little known as Caesar, somebody
conquered somebody. Such a poor business is this boasted
immortality; and such as has been described, is the thing
called glory among us." *
Now the obvious truth here, as in all other instances,
is, that the instinct of our nature is in beautiful harmony
with God's moral government and our immortality. We
were made both to find happiness in the esteem of good
beings and also to exist for ever. The two facts are not
to be disconnected.   When, therefore, we desire to be
" had in everla,stin remembrance," and pursue the right
course to be thus remembered, we are fulfilling our true
destiny.
The most important purposes of the desire in question
are the three following:
1. It was designed to induce us to merit esteem. It
is thus a powerful motive to virtuous action. When a
youth has learned to say, he "don't care" for the opinions of others, he is not far from ruin.
* Quoted by Stewart, p. 28.
75 
MORAL PHILOSOPIIY.
If any suppose that the desire of esteem, as a motive
to virtue, would naturally make us endeavor to appear
better than we really are, it is sufficient to reply, that
Providence has so constituted us, that we cannot really
enjoy esteem, unless conscious that we deserve it.
2. This desire was intended to render us happy in the
favor of others. It furnishes an important part of the good
man's motive and reward. It makes hin welcome with
delight every approving smile, and thus leads him on to
higher merit and a still richer inheritance.  The most
enviable person on earth, so far as this life is concerned,
is he who truly desires and fully receives the approbation
of all good men. No gold nor glory compares with this.
Who would not have the reward of Washington, rather
than the wealth of Crcesus, or the wreath of Caesar?
3. This desire was given us to subserve re7ligion.  Supremely directed to the Supreme Being, it becomes a religious principle of high order, and fosters every pious
sentiment. Much as the Christian may value the esteem
of his fellow-beings, he values the approbation of God
immeasurably more. Whenever, therefore, a conflict arises
between the two, the instinct of his nature, under guidance
of Christian principle, prompts him to seek the "honor
that comes from God only."  Hie is thus sure of ultimately securing the esteem of all good beings.
DESIRE OF OWNING.
This is called by Whewell the desire of having. But the
entire idea is not thus expressed.,We may have what is
not our own. He however explains himself to intend, at
least in part, what we mean by the word own.  "But the
desire to possess such objects, as it exists in man, goes beyond the measure of their obvious use.  Hie considers
76 
THE NATURAL MOTIVE POWERS.
them as connected with himself in a permanent and exclusive manner, and looks upon them as Ais, as his own. The
things which he thus looks upon as his own, he is disturbed
at the prospect of losing, and is angry at any one who attempts to take them from him.   Nor can he be at ease in
his thoughts, or act steadily and tranquilly, except he be
allowed to possess in quiet and security what he thus has
as his. IHe needs to hold it as his property." *
But it would not be correct to speak of a man's holding his wife, or his child, as his "property;" yet they are
his own.
Some writers do not consider the desire of owning
original in our nature, but resolvable into other and more
simple principles. Thus Stewart says, "The idea of power is, partly at least, the foundation of our attachment to
property. It is not enough for us to have the use of an
object. We desire to have it completely at our own
disposal, without being responsible to any person whatever for the purposes to which we may choose to turn it."
Doubtless the desire of power, as it exists in mature
life, is partly the foundation of attachment to property;
but the child wants more than the entire use of an object;
he wants to feel that it is his own. " There is an unspeakable pleasure," says Addison, "in calling any thing one's
own. A freehold, though it be but in ice and snow, will
make the owner pleased in the possession and stout in the
defence of it."
To have the disposal of an object, is not the same thing
as to have it as one's own. The child has not the disposal
of his parent, yet the parent is his own. Neither has the
parent the absolute disposal of his child; yet the child is
his own.  Suppose an adopted child, over which the pa
* Vol. I. p. 45.
77 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
rent is made by law to have as full control as over his
own child; is it precisely the same thing, either to parent
or child, as though the child were really his own? In that
little word own there is a charm, springing from an instinct of our nature, of which none are ever fully divested.
It will hence be seen, that while some writers have
failed to recognize this instinct, others have failed to give
a definition sufficiently generic to convey the entire idea
of it. A man's house, farm, wife, children, are all his
own; but only the first two are his property. Wives
generally call their husbands their own; but they do not
often lay claim to them as their property; nor are they
often so fortunate as to be able to say, We have them
"completely at our own di8sposal," however much they
may desire it.
The two following seem to be the most important ends
for which this desire was given us.
1. It seems to have been intended to nourish the domestic affections. By it the bonds of conjugal, fraternal,
filial, and paternal love, are greatly strengthened. When
the happy suitor can look upon the object of his affections
as truly his own, he realizes peculiar emotions of delight,
which increase his love for the person. When he looks
upon the smiling infant in its mother's arms as his own, he
realizes an additional satisfaction.
It is not because he has the entire control of these objects of his love, or that he anticipates some advantage
from them, that his pleasure is by them augmented; it is
because they are his own.  Along-with this gratified desire springs a new affection, and thus peculiar pleasures
and affections pervade all the relations of domestic life.
The reason why none but husbands and wives have the
entire conjugal affection, and none but parents the entire
78 
Tl1E NATURAL MOTIVE POWERS.
parental affection, seems to be, that none but they realize
the gratification, in these particulars, of the desire now
contemplated.
2. This desire combines with others, especially with
that of power, to produce the desire of property.  It thus
becomes an element of one of the main springs of human
action. That the desire of property may be excessive,
that it may degenerate into avarice, is no proof that it is
not, when rightly controlled and directed, of great value.
Annihilate it, and the wheels of enterprise would soon
move sluggishly around; civilized nations would soon fall
from their eminence to the abject condition of those savage
hordes, with whom industry has no motive, because property has no protection.
DESIRE OF POWER.
We mean by power the abi7lity to produce results. Its
greatness is measured by the results it can accomplish.
3lan delights in the consciousness of being able to surmount difficulties, and secure brilliant results. It is not
merely the object gained, that gives him pleasure; it is
the consciousness of being able to gain it.  Men desire
success for its own sake.
"When we are led to consider ourselves as the authors
of any effect, we feel a sensible pride or exaltation in the
consciousness of power, and the pleasure is in general
proportioned to the greatness of the effect, compared with
the smallness of our exertions. The pastimes of the boy
are almost without exception such as suggest to him the
idea of power. When he throws a stone or shoots an arrow, he is pleased in the being able to produce an effect
at a distance from him; and, while he measures with his
eye the amplitude or range of his missile weapon, contemn
79 
AMORAL PHILOSOPHY.
plates with satisfaction the extent to which his power has
reached. It is on a similar principle that he loves to bring
his strength into comparison with that of his fellows, and
to enjoy the consciousness of superior prowess." *
The  desire of power includes that of liberty.  The
power to do as we please, implies also the liberty to do so.
We may have the liberty without the power, but we cannot have the power without the liberty. The one is generic to the other. But the desire of each is equally extensive. Every human being wishes to be free. He is
naturally impatient of any bond upon either his soul or
body. Hie desires freely to use his limbs and members,
his intellect, his will, his entire being.
No constitutional desire is more marked and more
obviously universal than this. The infant manifests it at
the earliest period of activity, and the weight of fourscore
years does not avail to repress it.  Nor does the highest
attainment in moral excellence abate it. The purest and
most angelic being, as well as the humblest, desires to be
at liberty to use all his faculties as he pleases, responsible
only to his conscience and his God. This is true liberty,
and this is power.
This principle of our nature was obviously designed to
be an important stimulus to virtuous and noble endeavor.
Without it, man's right arm would be crippled.  Had the
child no natural desire of power, he would probably end
his days nearly as powerless as he commenced them.  It
co-operates with the desire of knowledge. The mastery
of languages, sciences, arts, the command of logic, poetry,
eloquence, insight into the springs of action, and the connection of causes and results, afforded by philosophical
analysis and patient abstraction, all afford stirring induce
* Stewart, p. 41.
80 
THE NATURAL MOTIVE POWERS.
ments to effort by appealing to this desire. Lord Bacon
is said to have originated the maxim that knowledge is
power, but long before his day mankind knew that knowledge was powerful, and ignorance weak.
The same principle is active in urging men to high
attainments in moral excellence. If knowledge is power,
no less truly is excellence of character. If we desire the
former to augment our influence over fellow-beings, why
not for the same reason desire the latter?  We may have
indeed another motive, of a moral kind, to urge us to this;
but here again, as in instances previously noticed, a
nateral motive cooperates with a moral one, to induce us
to aim at the highest possible attainment in excellence,
with a view to accomplishing the greatest good to mankind.
CONCLUDING REM ARKS ON THE DESIRES.
We have thus enumerated seven primitive desires. It
may seem unaccountable that they are so few. A young
lady on being asked how many original desires there are
in the human mind, replied, that she should think there
are about a thousand! She doubtless spoke out of the
fulness of her own heart.
But we must consider that our list enumerates merely
the p_primry desires.  These are only the elenents from
which all other desires are formed. The whole world is
made from a few simple elements. Out of nine digits we
form combinations reaching to infinity.  As there is no
measurable limit to the numbers into which the nine
digits may be wrought, so there is none to the secondary
desires of the human heart. Their name is legion, for
they are many.
It is very important to remark, that we learn the designs of the Creator respecting us by our constitution, not
4*
81 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
by our character. The former is his work; the latter is
ours. Let us then look attentively at these constitutional
desires, to learn from them his will. The reader is requested to recall each of them, as related to the following
particulars.
We learn from them, that our Creator would have us
prize the being he has given us; that he would have us
value happiness, and pursue the course tending to perpetuate and exalt it; that he designed us to live in society,
and to find enjoyment in the reciprocity of sympathy and
affection; that he made us to aspire after knowledge, and
to cherish the expectation of endless progression in it;
that we ought so to conduct as to merit and ultimately
receive the esteem of all wise and good beings; that we
were designed, without any sacrifice of general benevolence, to sustain to certain objects a relation which renders them peculiarly our own, such as accords with the
tenderest affections and most personal wants of our nature; and finally, that it was the divine intention that we
should improve all our faculties with a view to the highest practicable attainment, in physical, intellectual, and
moral power.
Who that examines the primitive desires of his nature,
as implanted by the hand that made him, can fail to see
that these are truly the benign and glorious designs of his
Creator concerning him; and who, that studies the Bible,
can fail to see that precisely the same designs are revealed
there?  Hlow clearly does the light of philosophy blend
with that of divine revelation. How certainly does a correct analysis of the human mind point us to the revealed
will of God, as coincident, in all points, with that indicated in our constitution.
82 
CHAPTER VI.
NATURAL EMOTION.
WE have a great variety of transient feeling termed
emrotion. It is more or less associated with affection and
desire, but may exist without them. We may have an
emotion in reference to an object towards which we have
neither love nor hatred, desire nor aversion. All such
emotion, as well as that involved in natural affection and
desire, is purely natural.
An emotion takes its particular type and name from
its outward or objective cause. When occasioned by the
perception of a beautiful object, it is called an emotion of
beauty; when by a sublime object, an emotion of sublimity; when by a terrific object, an emotion of terror;
when by a ludicrous object, an emotion of the ludicrous.
The specific susceptibility to these various emotions differs
much with different individuals; and indeed in the same
person the emotions gradually merge together, so that no
exact line can at last be traced between them.   In their
extremes they are very dissimilar, but as they approach
each other they assimilate, and finally become apparently
the same. 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
ILLUSTRATIONS OF THE VARIOUS EMOTIONS.
Emotion of beauty..-As one goes out into the country
on a bright June morning, looks upon the green hills,
the winding streams, the rich foliage, the fields of springing grain, the happy flocks and herds feeding in the pastures; as his grateful lungs inhale the balmy air and his
ears drink in its melodies, a feeling of fresh delight comes
over him. Hie perhaps left his house feeling dull and depressed, but now he is alive with pleasure. Hie is realizing an emotion of beauty. This emotion has various degrees of intensity, but it is always pleasing.
Einotion of sublimity.-As the person supposed continues on his way, a cloud arises. It increases in size and
blackness, and at length spans the heavens. Its deep
broad folds sweep majestically along the horizon; the
forked lightnings begin to play, and the thunders to roll in
its dark bosom.
His emotion has now changed.  Before, it was comparatively mild, gentle, tranquil; now it has become
strong, earnest, intense.  This is an emotion of sublimity.
It is pleasing, but not as purely so as the emotion of
beauty; it has in it an element of the awful.
Emotion of terror.-T-ie above person turns to escape
the approaching tempest, but it is too late.  The lightnings, which before played sublimely in the distance, now
hurl their fiery bolts around him. The mingled rain and
hail pour in torrents; the hurricane sweeps furiously
along, prostrating trees and buildings; nature seems to be
frantic, and her enraged elements threaten universal destruction.
The emotion of the person supposed has now undergone another change. It has become still more intense.
84 
THE NATURAL MOTIVE POWERS.
It is violent, spasmodic, and perhaps uncontrollable. Instead of being simply pleasing, as at first; or pleasing
with a dash of pathos approaching the awful, as in the
second instance, it is decidedly and wholly painful. This
is an emotion of terror.
Eiotion of the ludicrous.-The tempest at last subsides, and nature is again tranquil. All the sublime and
terrible emotions of our friend have ceased, and he is returning composedly to his dwelling. But just as he is
entering the town, he sees a young dandy, fresh from the
toilet and dressed in his finest, making his first adventure
out since the storm, and tripping gaily across the way.
Stepping incautiously upon a slippery place, the unfortunate dandy loses his perpendicular, and goes headlong,
with all his finery, into the mire.
Our friend may indeed realize some feeling of pity for
the unfortunate youth, but as no injury is done to his person, the predominant emotion is of another kind. Hie is
instinctively convulsed with laughter.   This emotion is
rather pleasing, but very unlike that of beauty.   This is
an emotion of the ludicrous. It is much like the excitement which one feels on beholding the ludicrous capers
of a buffoon, but is modified by the fact that the feat of
the dandy was undesigned and unfortunate, while that of
the buffoon is designed and fortunate.
Emotions qf 8surprise and wonder.-The man supposed
at length returns to his dwelling. On entering it he finds
there a former neighbor, whom he has not seen for many
years, and whom he supposed was long since lost at sea.
He at first searely credits his own eyes; but after a full
survey of the person before him, and on hearing his voice,
all his doubts are removed. It is indeed no other than
his veritable friend and neighbor, whom he had supposed
dead. HIis feeling is now quite changed from what it was
85 
MORAL PHILOSOPHIY.
when he entered the house. HIe is realizing an emotion
of 8surprise.
After reflecting a few moments, he begins to agitate
in his mind the question how his friend escaped the wreck,
and by what means he has safely returned. Hiis emotion thus gradually subsides into that of wonder. Less
violent than at first, it assumes a composed and deliberate type.
Simutaneous emotions.-It is not necessary to take all
the time supposed above, to bring before the mind the various exciting causes of emotion. The powers of conception
and imagination may array them in very rapid succession.
By the aid of these alone, while sitting solitary in his own
apartment, a person may pass almost unconsciously from
one emotion to another, and may sometimes become the
subject of them all apparently at the same time. Thus
the mind seems to resemble an organ or a violin, vibrating at the same time under various impressions and giving
out discordant notes.
This is realized most vividly when one is listening to
an oratorio, or attending a theatrical entertainment, or
reading a highly wrought story, in which variously exciting
scenes are mingled together. The mind is then sometimes
almost tortured with conflicting emotions. Tears and
smiles, agonizing terror, and convulsive laughter, the
sublime and the ridiculous, seem to keep company in the
soul, and to play together upon the accommodating countenance.
Conutclting emotions.-Although these emotions may
seem to be simultaneous, they are not strictly so. Two
conflicting feelings cannot possess the mind at the same
instant. To suppose the heart joyful and sorrowful,
pleased and displeased, angry and complacent, at the
same identical moment, is much the same as to suppose a
86 
THE NATURAL MOTIVE POWERS.
body at the same time hot and cold, fluid and solid. But
the alternations between these mental states may be imperceptibly rapid. Generally, however, they are not so
rapid as to elude our notice. The pantomime that would
successfully play upon our passions, must regard this law
of mental operation, and not attempt to excite two conflicting emotions at the same time, nor to pass us suddenly from the one to the other.
Thought is quicker than emotion. It usually takes a
perceptible time to make the transition from sadness to
joy, and from the calm emotion of beauty to one of sublimity or terror, although there may be but a step between
them.  It is only under intense pressure, or some undue
excitement, that very rapid alternations of emotion are
realized. They are mostly undesirable. They often injure the sensibilities.  Under their repeated influence, the
mind sometimes loses its balance, and tends to insanity,
in which state they culminate in their wildest forms.
OBJECTIVE CAUSES OF THE VARIOUS EMOTIONS.
Of beauty.-We have already alluded to the objective
causes of emotion, in defining the emotion itself. But
they must be more fully noticed. We shall find that the
world without us is an exact counterpart to the world
within us; the adaptation of the one to the other being a
striking illustration of the wisdom and goodness of God.
If there was no error in the construction of the universe,
there was none in the constitution of the human mind,
on the supposition that the one was made for the other;
for their mutual adaptation is perfect.
As the emotion of beauty is healthful and may be continually repeated with advantage to the mind, the Creator
has provided largely for its habitual exercise. He has
87 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
richly supplied it with daily food.  All creation is replete
with objective beauty. There is beauty of form, beauty
of color, beauty of proportion, beauty of fitness, beauty of
sound, beauty of motion, and beauty of all these combined.
The changing seasons, as the year rolls round, bring with
them almost every imaginable form of beauty.
The human figure and countenance are beautiful; so
are the forms and movements of the animal tribes. What
more graceful than the horse or the doe, bounding over
the fields, leaping the hedges, and darting through the
opening forests? All the birds of the air are beautiful in
their plumage, their motions, and their music. Scarcely
less beautiful are the finny tribes, sporting in the waters.
All flowers are beautiful. So are the green fields, the
bending corn, and the branching trees waving in the
zephyrs.
Every hue of solar light is beautiful, whether painted
upon a flower, or upon an evening cloud, or a glorious
heaven-spanning rainbow. The entire firmament, by day
and by night, is a vast dome of ever-varying beauties;
while the earth beneath, as if vying with the heavens
above, is also enameled all over with living beauty. Anld
the works of art, responsive to those of nature, copy her
fine pictures with exquisite skill, and sometimes almost
transcend the original.
Human hands rear imposing forms of architectural
beauty around us; adorn them and their occupants with
beauties of the finest mould and finish, in which are blended
all the colors of nature and of art; furnish them with breathing canvas and speaking marble; and then, with curious instruments of their own framing, catch and combine all
the tones and voices of the living creation, and pour them
in endless varieties of enchanting music upon our delighted
ears. Thus, through both the senses of sight and of hear
88 
THE NATURAL MOTIVE POWERS.
ing, beauty is pouring from without upon the mind.  The
emotions thus awakened are almost as perpetual as our
being, are never violent but always agreeable, and are
therefore exhaustless sources of pleasure.
Of grandeur and sublimity.-JEmotions of grandeur
are pleasing, but they are so earnest and impressive that
they soon exhaust the mind. The author, whose pages
are crowded with passages of grandeur, intensely pleases
us for a time; but we are soon exhausted, and seek relief
in more quiet beauties. Natural scenery whose features
are strikingly grand, like those of the Alps, produces a
similar effect; and we are at length glad to emerge from
it into scenes of more tranquil delight. t When we contemplate the vast rolling ocean, or the lofty azure vault
of heaven, or the clear evening sky bespangled with
stars, our first emotion is that of grandeur, mingled with
that of beauty; and as the former gradually subsides,
the calmer emotion of beauty takes the entire possession.
The emotion of sublimity, together with its cause, is
much the same as that of grandeur; but the latter has
more respect to what is mighty, vast, boundless; the former, to what is lofty, incomprehensible and approaching
the terrible. Grandeur is a term of greatness, sublimity
of loftiness.   The wide expanse  is grand, the dizzy
height sublime. Hence an object may have the attribute of grandeur without that of sublimity.   A huge
column is grand, but not always sublime. A kite, darting upwards into the clouds, is sometimes sublime, but not
grand.
WVhen we look upon the fire-sped car, dashing furiously along on its iron path, or gaze upon the stupendous
cataract of Niagara, or upon the wide, pathless ocean, we
have an emotion of grandeur.  But when we look upward
89 
]MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
to the summit of Mlont Blanc, resting as a stupendous
silvery dome in mid-heaven; or when we contemplate
eternity; or when we see a dark cloud rolling portentously up the skies and shooting down its lightnings; we
have an emotion of sublimity. These, also, like emotions
of grandeur, are too powerful to be long endured. They
are of a pleasing nature, but the pleasure is sometimes
closely allied to pain. Beauty, grandeur, and sublimity
are, however, frequently all combined in the same object.
Of awe.-The emotion of awe is in many respects like
the foregoing, but it has some peculiarities. There is in
it much of dread, reverence, and astonishment.
We are awed at Jehovah's exhibitions of sovereignty,
justice, and majesty. When we contemplate a pestilence,
sweeping over the land, and hurrying thousands to eternity; or an earthquake, or volcano, engulfing and burying up whole cities; or a storm of fire reducing Sodom
and Gomorrah, with all their inhabitants, to ashes; or a
deluge of water, burying the whole world in a common
grave; we then have an emotion of awe.
In scarcely less degree, although from humbler causes,
we realize a similar emotion, when we read an account of
a shipwreck, or of the burning of a steamboat, or of a railroad catastrophe, by which many of our fellow-beings
have been suddenly destroyed. We are awe-struck by
such providential events.
But it is not essential to this emotion that there should
be the destruction or even endangering of life. We may
"stand in awe" before exhibitions of Jehovah's power,
when they contemplate our welfare, as well as when they
are made in judgment, or to accomplish ends of justice.
The children of Israel had emotions of awe beneath the
burnings and quakings of Sinai, not because life was thereby sacrificed or endangered; nor yet so much because they
90 
THE NATURAL MOTIVE POWERS.
regarded those events as judgments, or as ministers of justice, as because they saw in them indications of their great
Jehovah's presence and majesty.
Of terror.-The emotion of terror is obvious and well
defined.   Every person has experienced it, and knows
exactly what it is. Yet some have identified it with sublimity, or have at least supposed them complements to
each other.   They are frequently united, but are still
essentially distinct.   The one often exists in full force
without the other.
The soaring of the eagle is sublime, but not terrible.
On the other hand, a poisonous reptile, a mad dog, a
stinging insect, has no sublimity, but it is terrible. While
a thunder-storm is often both terrible and sublime. In
general, we have emotions of terror from whatever endangers our personal safety.   As such emotions are wholly
painful, we incline to shun their causes as much as possible.
Of the ludicrous and the ridiculous.-As there is in us
a constitutional susceptibility to an emotion of the ludicrous, so there are causes without to excite it.  Nature
exhibits some  curious freaks.   The monkey performs
laughable tricks, and some other irrational creatures make
similar appeals to our sense of the ludicrous.
But it is in the conduct of the human species, that we
find most of that which excites the emotions in question.
Many persons seem intent to render themselves ludicrous,
and even ridiculous, in the eyes of their fellow-beings.
An emotion of the ridiculous differs from that of the ludicrous, as it is associated with a feeling of contempt. It is
not merely the harlequin, who cuts his capers for a reward, nor the comedian, whose business it is to make men
laugh, to whom we now refer.
Nor need we repair to the great watering-places, and
91 
5MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
other resorts of fashionable folly, where it would seem to
be the main object of some to appear ridiculous, to find
exciting causes for this emotion. On every side we may
witness those irrational displays of pride and vanity, which
can hardly fail to provoke contempt.
The struggles of the poor in aping the rich, and of the
rich in outdoing each other's follies; the tenacity with
which the fashionable world often hug the very chains
which they affect to despise; the gilded miseries of high
life, writhing beneath a smiling mask, received in eager
barter for a good conscience and a contented mind; the
shallow tricks of brainless ambition to conceal its ignorance and shine in borrowed splendors; all these things
are ridiculous enough, and have furnished lawful matter
for the pen of the satirist in every age.
But there is a brighter side to this picture, and one
which greatly redeems humanity from the opprobrium
under which the above views would place it. If hunanity exhibits much that is contemptible, it also exhibits
much to be admired. Its noble self-sacrifices; its deeds
of chivalrous valor; its triumphs of genius and art; its
patient endurings and determined endeavors in well-doing;
its free surrender of life itself upon the battle-field for its
country, or at the stake for its conscience; these are deeds
which make humanity cease to appear contemptible, and
which summon all our most vivid emotions of beauty,
sublimity and grandeur.
CONCLUDING REMARKS ON NATURAL EMOTIONS.
The brute creation have many of the emotions which
we have described, but the absence of a rational nature
restricts them to such as are merely animal.  They have,
in some sense, emotions of delight, of pain, of fear, of sur
92 
THE NATURAL MOTIVE POWERS.
prise, but those occasioned by causes strictly rational,
oesthetical, and moral, are without their province.
The reader will now carefully notice the distinction
between emotion, and the other mental states and exercises
which we have examined.
Appetite occasions desire, the gratification of which is
attended with an emotion of pleasure, and the refusal of
which, with an emotion of pain. We thus see that the
emotion is not the same thing as either the appetite or the
desire.
If our affection for a friend is severely simple and be nevolent, it may be attended with little emotion, and is
then usually a very sincere and pure affection.  If it is
attended with excess of emotion, it becomes a passion, and
is then often less pure and reliable. There is then in it
less of principle and more of excitement.
And since affection is exercised only towards conscious
beings, every emotion occasioned by inanimate objects,
or mere exciting events, has no relation to affection, and
is therefore either a mere emotion, or an attendant on
some desire.
Emotion is thus an accompaniment of the other mental
states and exercises, serving to invigorate and enrich
them, and is much the same as is understood by the common word spirit. A man of lively spirits is one favored
with a large endowment of the emotional element. He is
easy to kindle, and may be equally so to burn out.  His
emotion may also be deep and calm; but when it is so,
it is by virtue of the depth and steadiness of the affection or desire to which it pertains. Hence a man of
little real affection and of feeble principle, may be on
fire with emotion to day, and a spiritless corpse to-morrow.
Still, we must not fail to see that the susceptibility to
93 
9MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
emotion is a very important element of the mind, not only
as related to the objects of this world, to which we have
referred, but also to those of a higher world; having
much to do with religious devotion, and often imparting
wings to the spirit, with which it soars to mingle its raptures with the angels around God's throne.
94 
CHAPTER VII.
NATURAL VOLITION.
THE feelings which we have thus far considered move us
to act, and volition is the executive motive power which
determines our conduct. The former are the breezes which
fill the sails of the ship: the latter is the helm by which
reason guides it.
Thus, appetite occasions hankering for food; volition
decides to gratify or to refuse it.
Affection loves a friend or hates an enemy; volition
determines to embrace or to shun him.
Desire longs for wealth, fame, indulgence; volition
chooses or refuses to pursue it.
When volition merely executes an original impulse or
pure instinct, it has no moral quality.  Such are the volitions of the brute creation. We have many such in common with them.
In this view, writers have distinguished between volition and',vill; regarding the former as executing the
mere impulses of nature, and the latter as related to reason and conscience. The acts of the former are then
strictly instinctive; while those of the latter are rational 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
and responsible. This distinction has been made by some
German philosophers.
But so far as the _power of volition is concerned, it is a
distinction without a difference. In both cases it is the
power to will or choose; nothing more nor less.  In the
one case it is a power to choose in view of rational motives; in the other, from the mere impulses of instinct.
Let us now proceed to indicate those volitions which
are strictly natural.
We begin with those which execute the demands of
appetite. When reason and conscience are developed,
they should take these demands in charge, at least so far
as not to allow them to transgress the rules of temperance
and chastity; but in the absence or the partial development
of reason and conscience, the cravings of appetite are the
only or the principal motives to prompt and to regulate
the volitions to gratify it.  Such are the volitions of infants and of all animals to take their food.
The same is true of volitions prompted by mere natural afection.  We have seen that the parental, filial, fraternal, conjugal, and social affections, are all a part of our
nature. HIence the simple volitions employed in their
service, and with exclusive reference to their appropriate
ends, are as destitute of mnoral quality as the affections
which they subserve. Such are volitions to care for and
caress our children, to dwell with our parents, to befriend
our brothers and sisters, to live with our companions, to
reciprocate social civilities and friendships. However valuable and excellent these volitions, they imply nothing
praiseworthy in us, but only in the Being, who made us.
God is the author of them, in the same sense that he is
of those volitions of the brute which make it care for its
young.
The same is true of volitions to execute the natural de
96 
THE NATURAL MOTIVE POWERS.
egres. These are the desire of life, of happiness, of society,
of knowledge, of esteem, of owning, and of power. So
far as volitions are engaged only by these in seeking their
appropriate ends, they are as characterless on our part as
the desires themselves. Such are our primitive volitions
to protect life, to secure happiness, to cultivate society, to
pursue knowledge, to secure esteem, to have our own, and
to possess power. To choose this is natural. It requires
no conscience and no regard to what is right. While,
therefore, as in the former case, such volitions imply no
moral merit in us, but only in iim who made us, it is un natural and wrong in us to withhold them.
The same again is true of volitions prompted by natu ral emotions.  We have emotions of beauty, of sublimity,
of terror, &c., which induce volitions with direct reference
to their ends. We instinctively prefer the beautiful, re ject the ugly, and flee the terrible. The man who does
not will to avoid a rattlesnake, to save himself from
drowning, or to clear the track of an approaching car, is
untrue to his nature. As in the cases above, there may
be nothing in these volitions of a moral quality; nothing
done from a regard to duty; but to do otherwise would
be rebellion against nature, and therefore against God.
Many of our volitions are prompted only in part by
natural impulses.   3lotives of a moral quality are often
associated with them, and thus give the choice a mixed
character. Our volitions may thus rise above or sink below the quality of mere naturalness, according as our
natural impulses are associated with motives morally right
or wrong.
The mother, for example, instinctively loves her child.
That love may blend with a feeling of du'y, and thus receive      a  moral element.  A man has a natural desire for
life. T     his may be associated with a feeling of moral obli              5
97 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
gation to cherish and protect it. A man naturally desires
happiness and dreads misery. These feelings may coinbine with the dictates of conscience, to induce him to pursue a course which will save him from the one, and secure
to him the other.
We here see the perfect adaptation of our constitution
to the high moral and religious purpose which it contemplates. We see, demonstrably, that man was made for
an end for which the animal was not made. The animal
and the man, for important reasons, begin and move on
together, so far as the earthly and the spiritual, the temporal and the eternal, can be united; but with the natural
impulses of man, may be associated the motives of morality and the higher motives of religion; and all, blending
harmoniously together, conspire to the same glorious end,
the highest perfection and eternal happiness of his being.
AGENCY OF VOLITION ON THE BODY.
Let it be remembered that when we speak of the
agency of volition, we mean the agency which the being
himself exerts by means of willing. All the direct executive power which a person has over his body, he exerts
by his will. Here is a large class of volitions purely
natural.
It is no part of our present object to explain the mysterious connection between the will and the muscles, or
to show how the one moves the other. We are here concerned only with the fact.
Now the tongue is silent. The person wills to speak,
and instantly it obeys. Now the eye is shut. The person
wills to see, and quick as thought the eyelids open.
His hand is holding a pen in the act of writing. A
friend enters the room and he wills to embrace him. In
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THE NATURAL MOTIVE POWERS.
a moment the pen is dropped, and his hand grasps that of
his friend.
HIe is sitting in his study, absorbed with thought. It
occurs to him that the mail has arrived, by which he ex pects a letter. HIe wills to go for it, and is immediately
on the way. But while on the way, he thinks of a letter
left in his study, which must now be mailed. He wills
to return for it. Forthwith the body turns upon its heel,
and is on the way back to the study.
Such is the power of volition on the body. It lifts it
up from the recumbent state, and pulls, turns, and twists
it, at pleasure, in every imaginable direction. The stately step of the chieftain, the graceful movements of the
lady in the drawing-room, the antics of the school-boy, the
capers of the clown, are all due to the same subtle and
mighty agency of the will.
And this voluntary control over the body is shared
with man by the brute creation. The movements of every
reptile, and of every beast upon the earth, of all the fishes
that sport in the waters, of all the birds that cut the air,
are due to this same mysterious agency.
As all such volitions accomplish their ends in the
movements they respect, they are as natural as the impulses which prompt them.  In brutes they must bepurely natural; for brutes have no moral nature.   But the
impulses which prompt them in man, may be associated
with those having moral quality.
It is natural for a man to choose to rise up and exert
himself, when he has reposed long enough. X may also
choose to do so from a sense of duty.  It is natura for
the hungry and thirsty man, as it is for the brute, to
choose to eat and drink; but the man may also "eat or
drink," as the brute cannot, "to the glory of God."  Thus
while the brute accomplishes its mission by obeying only
.. *:-.-.'
99 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
its natural impulses, man does not accomplish his, but by
obeying also the dictates of his rational nature.
MOVEMENTS PARTLY INVOLUNTARY.
The movements of the bodily members are involuntary, semi-voluntary, and voluntary.   The involuntary
movements are, the beating of the heart, the flowing of the
blood, and the action of the secretory organs. Over these
our volition has no direct control. Our life would be a
laborious business indeed, if we were obliged to attend
unremittingly, by day and by night, to these movements.
The semi-voluntary movements are, those of the lungs,
eyes, and some other organs. Over these we have a partial voluntary control. Did these depend wholly upon the
activity of the will, we could not be relieved from attending to them so as to sleep at night; and the perpetual
service demanded would be a burden by day.
On the other hand, if we had no voluntary control
over them, we should suffer great. inconvenience. If we
could not regulate our own breath, nor open and shut our
eyes at pleasure, both our comfort and safety would be
taken from us.   We  cannot, therefore, fail to see the
divine wisdom of this arrangement.
The movements which are'wholly voluntary, are those
of the limbs and external members, and of the body as a
whole.  Thus volition is man's natural and sole power,
with which to direct and manage his physical system.
External force and the influence of disease apart, he
moves his oody as he wills.
AGENCY OF VOLITION OVER THE INTELLECTIVE POWERS.
Although we are passive in sensations, volition is con   cerned in occasioning them.   If food is in a person's
.' *."..'.
100 
THE NATURAL MOTIVE POWERS.
mouth, he experiences from it an involuntary sensation;
but volition placed the food there. If we visit a theatri cal entertainment, we realize from it a variety of sensa tions, which put the intellect in action, but we are volun tary in going there. Thus many of our sensations, and of
course the intellectual activity resulting from them, come
of our will.
Those powers of mind which the brute creation share
in part with us, are so dependent upon the will, that
unless we exert its vigilance to elevate and guide their operations, they will never rise much above their corresponding powers in the mere animal. Hence a most important
part of education consists in bringing them under a steady
and determined voluntary control.
And even those higher faculties which so distinguish
us from brutes, are true and faithful to their objects only
as a true and faithful will makes them so. The judgment
itself, which we are prone to think under the sublime sway
of pure evidence, is sometimes sadly controlled by a perverse will. And imagination also, the bird of angelwing, which outspeeds the lightning, and has more than
magic power to create airy worlds in the twinkling of an
eye, can do little else than flutter, until the will bids her go.
Thus dependent upon man's voluntary agency, are the
movements of his physical and of his intellectual powers.
He uses his body and his intellect, mostly, as he wils8 to
do. A large proportion of the volitions concerned in
these movements, as we have seen, are merely natural.
Those of them which have moral quality, or for which
we are morally responsible, will be indicated in a subsequent part of the volume.
101
I *,I
i'.  v.: 
e
*ee J 
PART II.
THE RATIONAL MOTIVE POWERS.
CHAPTER I.
CON S C IENCE.
MA alone of all creatures upon earth is capable of moral
action. Hie alone realizes what is indicated by the word
ought.  The brute is moved by instinctive appetites, affections, desires, emotions, and so also is man, to a certain
extent. Man thus puts forth many characterless actions,
as we have seen, in common with the irrational creation;
but he is also the subject of a hgiher motive, a regard to
duty, which imparts moral quality to his actions.
We hence view the same act very differently, as performed by a brute, or by a human being. If the poor
brute kills her young, we pity her; but if the mother, favored with enlightened reason, kills hers, we blame her.
We never speak of the duty of the brute. We never say
it ought to do so and so; but we say this emphatically of
all rational beings. 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
Terms indicating duty are found in all languages,
proving the universality of the idea itself and the importance attached to it. Thus the feeling of moral obligation
is coextensive with our race.  All rational beings know,
as soon as reason operates, that there is a right and a wrong
in human action, and that they ought to refrain from the
one and do the other.
The intellect is concerned in ascertaining duty; the
susceptibility of conscience, true to its demand, is concerned in securing obedience to it. The intellect takes the
lead.  The senses act first, giving to the mind its first individual ideas, and arousing it to general activity. The
power of purely intuitive, as well as sentient perception,
is thus excited.*
WVhat we call in tuition, is included in what some German philosophers call the pure reason, (Ger. ein - Vernutnft, Gr. X67ov, Lat. ratio, Fr. raison,) and is possessed
by rational beings only, none of the brute creation having
any part in it.  Jacobi and others term it rational intuition,
(rationale Anschauung.)  It is by this that we obtain our
first general ideas, through which we systematize individual
ideas furnished by the senses, and comprehend their philo
* For the sake of brevity and convenience, I use the termperception to indicate both rational and sentient cognizance, although it is usually restricted
in philosophy to the latter. Several of the German philosophers, Fichte,
Schelling, and others, employ intuition to designate the cognition of the absolute, as opposed to the conception of it. While others, such as Leibnitz, Jacobi, Descartes, and Locke, denote by it the power of immediately apprehending the relations of subject and predicate in what are called self-evident propositions. But Sir William Hamilton applies the term intuitive in a wider
sense, as related to all direct knowledges, whether sentient or strictly rational.
To avoid these ambiguities and save repetition, I shall throughout use the
term perception to denote man's ability to cognize or know, or the act or result of cognizing, both as a rational and a sentient being. Whether the mind
comes into possession of its knowledge by pure intuition, or by sensation, or
by argument and reflection, is all the same in a moral view.
104 
THE RATIONAL MOTIVE POWERS.
sophical relations. The truths thus obtained are called
;rst 2rinciples. Known intuitively, they require no proof
They are often termed axioms.
First principles are mathematical, metaphysical, or
moral; but they are all apprehended by the same rational
faculty. It is always the same reason or intuition, although directed to different kinds of truth. In neither
case does reason feel the truth, for its office is simply
knowing, not feeling. The feeling is furnished by another
faculty.
The power of mental feeling, like that of perception,
is suited to its various objects. Thus the human soul is
endowed with various susceptibilities, adapted to its various cognitions. The cognition of a mathematical, or of
a metaphysical, or of an asthetical, or of a moral truth,
appeals to our susceptibility to that particular kind of
truth, and excites one or another feeling according to the
nature of the truth perceived.
We have previously noticed the mutual relations of the
intellective and the motive powers, and have said that,
other things equal, the clearer the perception the more
vivid will be the feeling, and the keener and more delicate the feeling, the clearer will be the perception. T'he
relation of the susceptibility of conscience to the perception
of moral truth, is like that of the susceptibility of taste to
the perception of cesthetical truth. Conscience quickens
the rational spirit to discern between right and wrong,
as the sensibility of taste quickens it to discern between
beauty and deformity.
Our only intuitive perceptions with which the susceptibility of conscience is associated, are those which relate
to moral truths. Other feelings attend other perceptions;
here is the exclusive dominion of conscience. It must
also be remembered that intuition, when directed to moral
5*
105 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
truths, as well as when directed to others, is severely restricted to first principles.   Beyond these, therefore, the
admonitions of conscience will naturally differ, according
as minds are differently taught.
Intuition or unaided reason alone cannot inform us respecting particular duties, nor the moral quality of specific
actions. It cannot inform us, for instance, whether infanticide and parricide are right; whether a man ought to
have many wives, or only one, or indeed whether the
marriage covenant should exist at all; whether any day
of the week, or any portion of time whatever, should be
kept as especially sacred; whether we ought to worship
one God, or a plurality of gods; whether we should conduct with reference to an interest beyond the grave, or
solely with reference to an interest in this life; whether
we should practise penance for our misdeeds, and inflict
sufferings and perhaps death upon our persons; whether
we should support parental and civil government, or
whether all government is oppression; whether disputes
should be settled by duelling, &c., &c.
All such questions, important and eminently practical
as they are, involving morality in the most vital points,
are yet not to be decided by the unaided glances of reason.
Indeed the fact that they are questions, throws them at
once out of the pale of intuition; for respecting what we
learn by intuition no question can be raised.
Here then we see the need of instruction in morals
and religion, as well as in other departments of knowledge. All the specific truths of moral science are to be
learned by a process of education, as truly as are all the
specific truths of natural science.   We  can no more be
sound and well furnished moralists without education, than
we can be sound and well furnished mathematicians without
it. In each case, we start with only first principles.  Upon
106 
THE RATIONAL MOTIVE POWERS.
these we must erect the superstructure, by applying to
them, in scientific arrangements, their numerous subordinate specific truths. This is work for education. Hience
the necessity for suitable schools, books, teaching, parental
guidance, preaching, correct example, good laws, and just
government, rightly to enlighten and form the conscience of
the rising race.
We have only to look where these are not enjoyed,
to see little else than conscience misguided and morals
prostrated. Let us then divest ourselves of all fanatical
conceits respecting the "inward light," the "sufficient
guide," the "divinity in man," the "sovereign arbiter;"
these are pleasant rhetorical flourishes, but they do not
answer the purpose where scientific truth and not poetry
is the object.
DEFINITION OF CONSCIENCE.
Conscience, as mentioned in the Bible and generally
understood, is not a single primitive faculty. It includes
both the power of perception, and a susceptibility to a peculiarfeeling. But the power of perception is always the
same, to whatever truths it may be directed. To suppose
that a man has two perceiving faculties, one for one kind
of truth, and another for another kind, is as preposterous
as to suppose that he is two persons.  He is both a rational and a sentient being, and hence he perceives in
various ways, intuitively and through the senses, but his
_oower to perceive is ever one and the same. The activity
of his cognitive or discerning power is always assumed,
when we speak of the operations of conscience. He may
know without feeling, but he cannot feel without knowing. We know that we feel, and we feel that we know.
By one act of consciousness, we know our feeling and we
feel our knowledge. Thus every legitimate operation of
107 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
conscience involves two psychological elements, the cognitive and the motive, affirmed in one and the same deliverance of the personal consciousness.
But while all the susceptibilities of the soul are dependent upon the intellect, there is one only, which, as united
and cooperating with it, constitutes the distinguishing and
sublime faculty of conscience. It is this which we are
now to examine.
Tile Latin word conscienta, and the Greek ovvetS8,tT,
used in the Bible, denote an inward susceptibility to or realization of the mind's perceptions. Thus a man's intellect
perceives the beauty of an object, and his susceptibility
to the beautiful makes him realize it. iHe thus not only
knows it, but he feels it. The former is s8peculative knowledge; the latter is experimental.  As both of these mental acts respect the same objective fact, the former is the
s8centi;  of it, the latter the cos8cientia of it.  The one
confirms the other.
Precisely thus a man's intellect perceives, and his conscience makes him feel, that is, it makes him experimentatlly
know, the distinction between right and wrong. We have
other specific terms by which to indicate the other susceptibilities, but the most emphatic was employed by the sacred writers, and by the ancients generally, to indicate the
most characteristic and important of them all.
CoxSCIENCE, then, including the power of perception, is
man's SUSCEPTIBILITY TO MORAL DISTINCTIONS.  It is a faculty implanted in our mental constitution expressly to make
usfeel the distinction between moral truth and falsehood,
and between right and wrong action, and thus to incite
us to duty. It was not designed to go before reason, or to
act independently of it, to teach us what is true and right,
but to be always strictly in its service.
Until the mind is instructed in specific truths and du
108 
THE RATIONAL MOTIVE POWERS.
ties, the admonitions of conscience are reliable only within
the limits of intuitive truths or first principles. Beyond
these, its impulses are blind and fanatical. It must be
kept strictly in school to reason, as taught by God and by
experience; for it belongs to our impulsive nature, and we
were made to be guided by enlightened reason, and not by
blind impulse.
That which distingTui8shes the susceptibility of conscience from all other susceptibilities, is its exclusive interest in what pertains to the person's own conduct as morally
right or wrong.  It has nothing to do with the actions of
others, nor yet those of one's self, except as they are related to his per8sonal duty.  In addition to this, the feeling
of obligation, and the feeling of pleasure and of pain,
which it imparts, are unlike any other.  No other feeling
is like that of moral obligation; no other pain is like that
which arises from a consciousness of having done wrong; no
other pleasure is like that which arises from a consciousness
of having done riqyht. It is not a difference in mere degree,
but in kind.  Our appeal here is to every man's experience.
CONSCIENCE HAS THREE FUNCTIONS.
Considered as a motive power, conscience is both passive and active; a susceptibility and an impulse. Besides
prompting the rational spirit to discern between right
and wrong, it has threefunctions, or, in other words, there
are three ways in which it incites us to do right. It
makes us feel that we ought to do so; it affords us a feeling of self-approval, when we Aave done so; it inflicts
upon us a painful feeling of self-reproach, when we have
not done so.
The first feeling is prospective. It is one that we have
in view of something to be done. The last two are retrospective. They are feelings which we realize in view of
109 
MORAL PI[ILOSOPEY.
something which we have done. The present moment is
but a point; hence, all actions upon which we deliberate,
must precede or follow the deliberation. These three
functions of conscience require particular explanation.
FIRST FUNCTION OF CONSCIENCE.
Conscience makes us feel that we ought t o do what we
believe to be right. In the same connection we may say,
that it makes us feel that we ought not to do what we believe to be wvrong. Both amount to the same thing; for,
failing to do right, is doing wrong.
A boy sees tempting fruit in a neighbor's garden. He
knows that it would be wrong to steal it. Now, whether
we say, his conscience admonishes him that it is right to
let it alone, or that it is wrong to steal it, our meaning is
of course the same.
On returning from the bank, a man finds that the teller
has accidentally counted to him a ten dollar note too
much. We mean the same, whether we say, his conscience
reminds him that he ought to return it, or, that it would
be wrong not to do so.
Suppose a man's mind enlightened by Christianity respecting the being and perfections of God. He then perceives it to be right for him to render to that glorious
Being his supreme homage. Hie perceives it to be wrong
not to do so. This perception is attended with an admonition of conscience, a feeling of obligation. If the conscience is in a normal condition, the intensity of its admonition, that is, the vividness of the feeling of obligation,
will be in proportion to the clearness and fulness of the perception.
But men may have "their conscience seared with a
hot iron,"* while their intellective faculty is in good
*1 Tim. 4: 2.
110 
THE RATIONAL MOTIVE POWERS.
condition, and theirperception of truth and duty is clear.
They may perceive with great distinctness what they ought
to do; and yet through defect of conscience, from its being in a seared or torpid state, they may be entirely indifferent about doing it.
The case here is the same; whether our views of duty
are intuitive, or are obtained by an educational process.
In either case, the perception of what is right may be as
bright as a sunbeam, while the conscience may be as unfeeling in regard to it as marble.
But if conscience is tender and quick, the perception
of a duty to be performed instantly excites the feeling of
obligation; this feeling tends to render the perception
more distinct; thus, a reciprocity of action, and an intimate alliance is established between them. A good man's
susceptibility to obligation, and his perception of truth
and duty, are ever harmoniously one in their object and
action. This is doubtless the reason why popular writers
have often so confounded the intellective and the motive
in conscience, as to consider them psychologically one
and the same primitive faculty, which they have called a
moral sense.
SECOND FUNCTION OF CONSCIENCE.
The second function of conscience is, to afford us a
wl7ightf,ulfeeling of 8elf-approval when we have done what
we believe to be right.  This feeling is especially vivid, after a successful encounter with a strong and dangerous
temptation to do wrong. When a severe struggle has
been had, and a triumph has been won on the side of
virtue, the feeling of satisfaction is peculiarly rich and delightful.
It is needless to attempt to analyze or to define this
feeling. To know it, we must experience it. It was evi
111 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
dently designed to be a token of approbation from the
Being who made us; a present reward of virtue, or rather,
a foretaste of the richer reward awaiting it hereafter. It
is a kind of first fruit of goodness. It was meant to encourage us to persevere in the conflict with temptation,
and thus to strengthen and establish every right principle.
It is not a feeling of vain exultation. It is humble and
grateful, but joyous and inspiring. The joy of Caesar,
when marching in triumph up the Appian Way, is not to
be compared with it.
But it is not merely the thrill of pleasure imparted by
conscience after signal victories over temptation, that we
should notice. The calm and settled peace, the prevailing satisfaction, resulting from a good conscience faithfully
obeyed, is a perpetual feast, a daily and hourly luxury,
which none but the upright in heart can realize.  Deprived of conscience, even if capable of rational conduct.
man would be for ever deprived of this angelic luxury.
THIRD FUNCTION OF CONSCIENCE.
The third function of conscience is, to iniet upon up s a
peculiar painful feeglin, when we have done what we believe to be wrong. When the conscience is not seared,
reflecting upon wrong conduct of which we have been
guilty, is invariably attended with this feeling. It is
termed remorse. It is designed, in part, as a present punishment for misdoing, or rather as an admonition of its
guilt, and of the fearful ultimate consequences to which it
tends. It is thus evidently meant to warn us against repeating the act.
It is useless to attempt a definition of remorse. Dictionaries define it, the keen pain or anguish excited by a
sense of guilt. But as we have keen pain and anguish
112 
THE RATIONAL MOTIVE POWERS.
from other sources, this definition only refers us to its
cause; thus leaving every person to learn, from his own
experience, what the pain and anguish actually are.
The rebuke of offended conscience is not like grief,
sorrow, repentance; it is not like the pain of bereavements, loss, or disappointment; neither is it mere regret,
nor a sense of danger. Some of these feelings, especially
the last two, usually accompany it, but they may exist
without it. As it cannot be defined, like every other primitive feeling, it can be known only as it is experienced.
Even the little child who disobeys his mother, or does
other things which he knows to be wrong, has the painful
feeling of a disturbed conscience. The young man rightly
taught at home, who, when removed from parental watchfulness, begins to venture upon vicious indulgences, sometimes passes many a sleepless night in painful reflections
upon his conduct.
It is important to observe, that the retributions of conscience are by no means always immediately consequent
upon wrong doing. They are sometimes delayed, especially in the case of hardened transgressors, for months
and for years.
The law of the operation of conscience seems to be
this. In the early stages of transgression, its rebukes are
prompt and earnest; but if these are disregarded, its sensibility gradually becomes less active, and, like the deep
fires of a volcano when crusted over at the top, prepare
for a tremendous outburst at a future time.
Thus the libertine, the thief, the defrauder, the murderer, has sometimes gone on for a series of years, realizing, especially during the latter part of his career, but
feeble, if any, compunctions of conscience.
Hle is thus greatly emboldened in crime. "Because
sentence against an evil work is not executed speedily,
113 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
therefore the heart of the sons of men is fully set in them
to do evil." *
Retribution at length overtakes the guilty man. Perhaps the civil arm arrests him, and places him in circumstances to reflect upon his ways. His feelings are at first
mostly those of regret and chagrin. But conscience is at
length aroused. His guilt now stares him in the face, and
darts its fiery stings into his inmost spirit.  Remorse, relentless and agonizing, makes him its prey, and drags him
to the gates of despair.
Let no one, then, who offends his conscience, hope to
escape its retributions.  They may be slow, but they are
sure; and when they come, they will be all the more severe for the delay; for they will find greatly enhanced
guilt. Sooner or later, they will certainly overtake him,
and they will be in proportion to his crimes. But there
will not have been made an even barter of pleasure for pain.
Far, very far from it. All the pleasures of vice will prove
at last to have been as nothing, compared with those merciless and bitter pangs, which an avenging and relentless
conscience will justly inflict.
Such are the threefold functions of conscience, in accomplishing the great moral end for which it was given
us. It is to our moral and religious interests what the desire of life is to our existence. The former would induce
us to prize and protect character, as the latter would to
prize and protect life. It is an original faculty. This
susceptibility, as truly as the discerning intellect, with all
its fearful power to bless and to torment us, is a part of
our mental constitution, and, like the soul itself, imperishable.  It is doubtless one of the mightiest agents created by God, by which "he will render to every man
according to his deeds."
* Eccl. 8: 11.
114 
THE RATIONAL MOTIVE POWERS.
As conscience includes the rational power to discern,
with the susceptibility to feel our moral obligations, we
are to regard its enlightened decisions as the will of God.
The rule of duty thus enjoined, or what is called the law
of conscience, is what we understand by the law of God
written in the hearts of men.   "For when the Gentiles,
which have not the law, do by nature the things contained
in the law, these, having not the law, are a law unto themselves; which show the work of the law written in their
hearts, their conscience also bearing witness, and their
thoughts the meanwhile accusing or else excusing one
another." *
* Rom. 2: 14-16.
115 
CHAPTER II.
VARIOUS VIEWS OF CONSCIENCE.
IHAVING in the previous chapter stated what we believe
to be the true nature and functions of conscience, it is due
to the subject to say that other views have been advocated.
It is our present object to examine them. Those deserving of particular notice may be reduced to two, that which
regards conscience as a moral judgment, and that which
regards it as a moral sense. The undefined notions of an
" inward light" and of a " divinity within," are too vague
and mystical to be seriously noticed; for they amount to
little else than rhetorical flourishes.
CONSCIENCE NOT A MIORAL JUDGMENT.
Some have supposed conscience nothing more than
judgment applied to moral subjects. They hence call it
the moral judgment.   They appeal to its decisions on
moral subjects, as we appeal to the decisions of the natural judgment on other subjects. In this view, it is to decide upon questions of right and wrong, just as the natural
judgment is to decide upon questions of law, upon evi 
THIE RATIONAL MOTIVE POWERS.
dence in courts, upon the quality of merchandise, or upon
the prospects of the market. Considering the influence
of passion and prejudice upon judgment, this view puts
all morality out upon a shoreless sea, to be tossed about
for ever by the caprices of wind and tide.
But conscience is not mere judgment, as we have seen
in the previous chapter, for it includes a susceptibility;
and this susceptibility is peculiar, and belongs exclusively
to conscience. Moreover, the intellective powers are not
altered by the nature of their subjects.   The powers of
perception, of memory, of judgment, are the same, whether
employed upon natural or upon moral subjects. To maintain, then, that conscience is only the judgment applied to
moral subjects, is to resolve it into another faculty, and
thus virtually annihilate it.
CONSCIENCE NOT A MORAL SENSE.
Some authors have considered conscience a literal
moral sense, sustaining the same relation to moral facts or
truths which the other senses do to those of nature, and
also imparting appropriate feelings respecting them. It
will be observed, that in this view conscience is a perceiving faculty, distinct from that with which we perceive
natural truths; and that it also performs two distinct
offices, offices belonging to two different powers of mind,
that of perception and that of feeli?g.  This must certainly be a very strange faculty, an anomaly in the mental
constitution.
The importance of the subject, and the deference due
to those who have advocated this view, make it our duty
to give it a careful examination.
To make our discussion as concise as possible, instead
of quoting from various books, we will refer to such only
117 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
as are in the hands of our readers generally, and are in ferior to none in claims to our attention. They clearly
represent the views of the class.
"By conscience, or the moral sense, is meant that
faculty by which we discern the moral quality of actions,
and by which we are capable of certain affections in respect to this quality." * * * " We do not say, that all
men discern this quality with equal accuracy, any more
than that they all see with equal distinctness: but we say
that all men perceive it in some actions; and that there
is a multitude of cases in which their perceptions of it
will be found universally to agree." *
It is here asserted, that conscience is a " moral sense;"
that faculty by which men " discern the moral quality of
actions; " and that " there is a multitude of cases in which
their perceptions of it will be found universally to agree."
But then there is another multitude of cases, in which they
do not agree; and who shall decide which is right?
It is claimed that conscience is a " moral sense," sustaining the same relation to facts in morals that the other
senses do to facts in nature.   But is it so?   Let us look
critically at this point.
The sense of sight is our sole and undisputed teacher
in respect to colors. From its decisions there is no appeal.
The same is true of the sense of smell, in relation to odors;
of the sense of taste, in relation to flavors; of the sense of
hearing, in relation to sounds; of the sense of touch, in
relation to resistant bodies. Each sense is supreme umpire in its dominion. No instruction, no laws, no change
of country or society, no religioIn, no amount of knowledge from other sources, can affect its decisions.   They
are absolutely fixed and reliable.
* Wayland's Moral Science, p. 49.
118 
THE RATIONAL MOTIVE POWERS.
If then conscience were a sense, like the above, by
which to discern the moral quality of actions, its decisions,
like those of the above senses, would also be absolutely
fixed and reliable. As there is no appeal from the sense
of sight in relation to colors, no appeal from the sense of
taste in relation to flavors, so there could be no appeal
from the sense of conscience in relation to morals.   To
suppose instruction to avail to correct the errors of the
sense of conscience in regard to moral actions, would be
as preposterous as to suppose it to avail to correct the errors of the sense of sight in regard to colors, or the errors
of the sense of smell in regard to odors.
Men must then infallibly agree respecting the decisions
of this moral sense, not only in "a multitude of cases," but
in all cases where moral action is the object. Do not men
of all nations, all religions, all kinds and degrees of learning, agree as to all things decided by the senses? They
do.  Why?   Because the senses were given to teach us
in regard to these things; and they accomplish their mission.   But do men agree thus in regard to the moral
quality of actions?   Far from it.  The Christian's conscience stings him with remorse, for doing what the pagan
approves; and the pagan's conscience stings him with remorse, for doing what the Christian approves. Their consciences are essentially the same, but their views of right
and wrong, owing to difference of education, are widely
different. Education, however, does not thus affect the
decisions rendered by the senses.
It may be said, the pagan's conscience is "defiled."
This is no doubt sadly true; but it does not meet the difficulty. So the pagan may say, the Christian's conscience
is defiled; and who shall decide between them?   Who
ever heard of a pagan's senses discerning things so differently from those of the Christian? No difference of educa
119 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
tion nor of character can alter the decisions of the senses,
in reference to their several appropriate objects. The pagan's sense of sight reveals to him all colors, his sense of
taste reveals to him all flavors, just as the Christian's do
to him.
The reason, then, why men differ respecting the moral
qualities of actions, is perfectly obvious. A man in one
nation justifies idolatry, polygamy, infanticide, and a man
in another nation condemns them, not because conscience
is not the same faculty in all, but because it is not a distinct dis8cerning   sense, and cannot teach u, as the senses
do, and because these men have been differently taught.
There is evil in ascribing too much to conscience, as
well as too little. By assigning to it duties which it was
not intended to perform, and to which it is inadequate, we
make men sceptical, on the one hand, because they see
that it does not do what is ascribed to it; or fanatical, on
the other, because they mistake for its sacred admonitions
the blind promptings of a perverse and obstinate self-will.
Few men betray a depravity more offensive and hopeless,
than those laboring under such unhappy delusions.
PLAUSIBLE ANSWER TO THE ABOVE.
But it is said by the advocates of the moral sense
scheme, that the senses teach us only in appropriate circumstances. The sense of sight, for instance, does not discern colors in the absence of light.  So of conscience.
In order to discern moral qualities, it must have moral
light.  Hence the fact that the benighted heathen do not
clearly discern moral qualities, only proves that they are
in comparative moral darkness.*
This analogy is plausible, but not just. It fails in the
material point.  So far as their intuitive perceptions go,
* See Stewart, p. 122.
120
I
'~ 
THE RATIONAL MOTIVE POWERS.
the untaught heathen apprehend moral truths as Christians do. Having no written law, they are a law unto
themselves.   "Axioms in mathematics, principles in philosophy, rights in morals, are the same to all minds, when
seen in the same grounds." * But what is thus known in
morals, like a mathematical axiom, by pure intuition, does
not of course depend upon the affirmation of a "sense."
The power to discern is, however, always one and the same,
whether directed to physical, mathematical, or moral
truths.t
We therefore proceed to notice what we learn through
the medium and testimony of sense. And here it matters
not whether it be what is termed an outer or an inner
sense; since all the senses sustain the same relation to the
perceiving mind, and are subject to the same essential
law. They are all the mind's teachers, and they teach it
by sensation.
In the light of day, all men of sound organs perceive
colors alike. They also perceive alike by all their other
senses, when the senses are directed to their appropriate
objects. It is not true that their perceptions agree only
"in a multitude of cases."  They so entirely agree, in all
cases, that the several kinds of knowledge taught us by
the several senses are reduced to exact systems, and are
registered in books of science among the most indisputable facts. If any one of a man's senses seems to teach him
* Hiickok's Moral Science, p. 55.
t "We  have not one faculty by which we discern physical truths, and
another by which we judge of mathematical theories, and another for matters of taste, but all these are the one and the same understanding, exercised on different subjects.  Accordingly, when moral qualifies are the objects
of our contemplation, it is not a different faculty from the reason or understanding which thinks and judges, but the same exercised on other subjects;
and the only difference is in the objects."-ALEXANDERa'S Outlines of Moa
Scence, p. 14.
6
121 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
otherwise, he is regarded as having a disordered intellect,
or a diseased organ, and so his case has no effect upon the
general conclusions of mankind.
But it is quite otherwise with conscience. There is not
only a Pagan conscience, a Mahommedan conscience, and
a Christian conscience, but even the Christian conscience
decides very differently in different men.  Under the same
Christian light, one man condemns slavery, while another
approves it; one man condemns oath-taking, while another
approves it; one man condemns all wars, while another
justifies those of self-defence; one man condemns capital
punishments, while another upholds them; and so it goes.
Yet all these men are, in the judgment of true charity, alike
conscientious in their views.
We hence see that while the senses, in their several
appropriate spheres, are infallible teachers and guides,
conscience, apart from the light of reason and instruction,
is no guide at all. If it were a moral sense, designed to
teach us moral truths, as the other senses teach us other
truths, we should be obliged to admit an utter failure in
this part of our mental constitution.   But we  are driven
to no such conclusion. We believe that the varying decisions of the so-called moral sense, are mere acts of judyment in cases of ethical casuistry.  The judgment may be
affected by prejudice, interest, education, idiosyncrasy;
but these cannot affect the decisions rendered by the
senses.
IMPORTANCE OF THIE ABOVE DISTINCTION.
The distinction between these two views of conscience
is of great practical importance. According to the view
which we have advocated, conscience was not designed
to go before and teach us, as the senses do, but must itself be taught. As a susceptibility, it is entirely depend
1.22 
TIHE RATIONAL MOTIVE POWERS.
ent upon the perceptions of the intellect; as a discerning
faculty, if is that intellect itself, and is subject to all the
necessities of intellectual discipline and culture. It is ig norant or enlightened, erring or true, according to its edu cation. Taking this view, an accountable being com mences his moral career with the first lesson of true wis dom; the lesson of humility. He takes the submissive
attitude of a pupil.
The intuitions of his unaided reason only reveal to him
his ignorance, and the first principles of his duty. He
sees that he has every thing to learn. He turns the eye
of his mind in all directions, seeking light. Thus docile
and expectant, he receives instruction from the light of
nature, from providential events, from the admonitions of
wise and good men, from the experience of past ages, and
above all, from the Word of God. All these conspire to
render his perceptions of truth and duty clear, accurate,
and comprehensive, and the sensibility of his conscience
discriminating, just, and effective. He is thus forming a
character of enlightened and high excellence.
According to the other view, the whole course is theoretically reversed. Conscience is a literal moral sense.
It is a distinct discerning faculty, given to teach us moral
truths, as the other senses teach us other truths.  It has
the same right to decide for us, independently of instruction, upon the quality of actions, as the natural taste has
to decide upon the quality of flavors. It is as much to be
trusted to discern the moral hues of an action, as is the
sense of sight to discern the colors of the rainbow.
In vain then do you reason and expostulate with it.
It is a sense, a seer, a guide; its office is to teach, not to
be taught. Approach not the man of conscience, who
practically entertains this view, to teach him his duty. He
knows it already, better than you do. He is too wise to
123 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
be taught by God or man. He has the light within him.
Hie will defy your reasoning and hurl your arguments to
the wind.
The effects of this view of conscience are by no means
chargeable upon its worthy advocates; but we are bound
to assert, what we have all been painfully compelled to
notice, that it tends to make men conceited, malapert,
opinionated, and self-willed.  It thus helps to people the
ranks of fanatical delusion, and is disastrous to the welfare of sound morality and of pure Scriptural piety.
RELATION OF CONSCIENCE TO REASON.
"Before you resolve upon an action," says the distinguished author cited above, "or a course of action, cultivate the habit of deciding upon its moral character. Let
the first question always be, "Is this action  right? "
Sound advice. But the writer adds,'" For this purpose,
that is, to decide whether an action is right, God gave
you this faculty (conscience). If you do not use it, you
are false to yourself, and inexcusable before God. We
despise a man who never uses his reason, and scorn him
as a fool. Is he not much more to be despised, who neglects to use a faculty of so much higher authority than
reason?" *
It is here asserted, first, that God gave us the conscience
for i' deciding " upon the moral quality of actions; and secondly, that it has " much higher authority than reason."
The decisions of conscience are here considered distinct
from those of reason, and of " much higher authority."
The first of the above positions we have virtually examined.  The second is a legitimate inference from it.
If conscience is strictly a sense, sustaining to moral truths
* Moral Science, p. 80.
124 
THE RATIONAL MOTIVE POWERS.
the same relation which the other senses do to other truths,
then, of course, its province is to teach reason, as the other
senses do, and not to be taught by it.  It is of "much higher authority than reason." It is reason's schoolmaster.
Conscience must never go to school to reason, but reason
must go to school to conscience, as it does to the other
senses.
If conscience is above reason, then, instead of acting
at all times as reasoncble beings, men are to be guided by
what they may chance to suppose an imperative of
conscience, which is above the jurisdiction of reason.
They are to consider conscience " of so much higher authority than reason," that it may decide for itself, and
have its own way, in defiance of reason's dictates.
Such a view must of course tend to make those who
act upon it CONSCIENTIOUSLY UNREASONABLE.  They may be
good men in their way; they may even be martyrs to
what they honestly suppose to be the dictates of their consciences. They may be deserving of much credit, at least
in their own eyes; for the fault may lie in their head,
rather than in their heart. They may have been badly
taught. But after all, the fewer we have of such men, the
better it is for the welfare of society.
And such men, too, may be very bad, consTcientiously
bad.   "Men  have  often  committed," says Whewell,
"thefts, frauds, impositions, homicides, thinking their actions right; though they were such as all moralists would
condemn as wrong. Such men act according to their
consciences.  Were they therefore justified?"
"To allege that an act is according to my conscience;
meaning thereby that I act according to a rule which is
already fixed and settled in my mind, so that I will no
longer examine whether the rule be right, is to reject the
real signification of moral rules. It is the conduct of a
125 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
person who pursues a wrong road to the place he aims at,
and refuses to have it proved that the road is wrong."
"It has been said, that, if I talk of my humility, 1
lose it; something of the same kind may be said of conscience." *
" If the moral judgments of the mind were from a faculty distinct from the understanding," says Dr. Alexander,' and often differing from it, the harmony of the mental operations would be destroyed. While reason led to
one conclusion, conscience might dictate the contrary.
And upon this theory, conscience must always be correct,
unless the faculty be morbid."
" The conclusion therefore is, that conscience is not a
distinct faculty from reason, so far as it consists in a judgment of the quality of moral acts. Reason or understanding is the genus: the judgments of conscience are the
species.  Reason has relation to all intelligible subjects;
the moral faculty is conversant about moral qualities
alone." t
CONSCIENCE ALWAYS TO BE OBEYED.
To the question, Ought we always to obey the dictates
of conscience? there can be but one answer.  We ought.
To do otherwise is an immorality. A man can never innocently offend his conscience.  But suppose his conscience decides one way and his reason another. Must
he act unreasonably? Certainly he must, if conscience is
"above reason."  He ought certainly to obey the highest
authority. But this is a dilemma for those who advocate
the view to which we have objected. According to the
view which we have advocated, the case is impossible.
For, according to our view, reason is itself a part of con
t Outlines, p. 438.
126
I Vol. I., p. 265. 
THE RATIONAL MOTIVE POWERS.
science, and is always to be its guide. REASON IS THE EYE
OF CONSCIENCE.
The inmpu7lse or feeling of conscience is always in favor of duty. It urges a man to do only what he supposes
to be right; it rebukes him for doing only what he supposes to be wrong. Under its influence, therefore, a man
always intends to do right.  And as the moral quality of
an action essentially depends upon the intention, no man
conducts morally right when he disregards his conscience.
If the impulse of conscience is not in the right direction,
the fault is not in the impulse, any more than the fault is in
the steam, if the ship which it impels goes the wrong way.
But suppose a man meaning to do right, does wrong.
Where is thle blame?  Not in the man for his impulse of
conscience, which was towards duty, whatever the duty
might be; nor yet in the man for his intention to do right,
in obeying his conscience; but in the man for not having
duly enlighteted his conscience, or for allowing passion or
prejudice to blind him.
Such was the fault of Paul when he was opposing
Christianity.   He tells us that he "verily thought" he
was doing right, but confesses that he did wrong. lHe
was true to the impulse of his conscience, but lie allowed
prejudice to blind his mind. When a man does what is
wrong through inevitable ignorance, it is not a fault of
heart, but of circumstance; not a crime, but a misfortune.
But in most cases of misdoing through ignorance, men
are blameworthy; for they might have known better.
They should have better enlightened their consciences.
It is usually because men are too indolent to inform themselves, or are selfish and obstinate, that they mistake their
duty.
The terms moral sense and sense of duty, must then be
understood to mean the sensibility of the conscience to
127 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
what is supposed to be right.  When we speak of a sense
of shame or a sense of honor, we do not mean that man
has a particular sense to discern what is shameful or a
particular sense to discern what is honorable; we mean
only to indicate his sensibility to what he perceives or supposes to be shameful or honorable.
No sooner do we suppose another perceiving faculty,,
which is moral instead of rational, than we perpetrate the
philosophical blunder of hypothesizing a superfluous faculty, and also open the way to fanatical conceits and delusions. A true moral perception is never an irrational perception. Indeed, strictly speaking, the mere power or act
of perception is eveer itse7f moral, and we justly term it
so only in a figurative sense, when directed to moral ends;
as we say that a sword is valiant, when it is valiantly used.
Extensive practical evils often come of fundamental
errors in speculation. Multitudes are misled, but they do
not see what has misled them. The better class realize
the misgivings of common sense, which prevent them from
going far astray; but others are less fortunate. The evils
resulting from those views of conscience which make every
man a revelation to himself, which embolden him to disregard teaching from without, especially that of the Bible,
thus tending to subvert true faith and loyalty, are too well
known to all who are conversant with the strange history
of humanity.
128 
CHAPTER III.
DIRECTIONS FOR THE CULTURE OF CONSCIENCE.
FROM the views which we have taken of conscience, it is
evidently susceptible of indefinite improvement. This respects the clearness, steadiness, and fulness of the light to
guide it, and the delicacy, uniformity, and promptness of
its susceptibility.   What we would say on this subject
may be briefly included in the following directions.
1. Spare no pains to enlighten the mi   respectin duty.
-Ve need to inform ourselves in regard to truth in morals
and religion, as well as other subjects. W e must employ
the same powers, with equal diligence, to know what to
believe and how to conduct in matters of duty, as we must
to understand mathematics, history, geography, or any
other branch of study. Hence earnestness to know the
truth, and diligence to apprehend it, are themselves no
mean virtues.  "If thou criest after knowledge, and liftest
up thy voice for understanding; if thou seekest her as silver, and searchest for her as for hid treasure; then shalt
thou find the knowledge of God."
When men seek half as earnestly to know their duty,
as most do for golden treasures; when they are as anxious
6* 
IMORAL PHILOSOPHY.
for the wisdom that is from above, as they are to know
how to be rich, or to gratify "the lusts of the flesh;"
when the buyers and sellers are as zealous to know
whether the Bible is the word of God, sent to teach them
their duty, and if it is, what it teaches, as they are to
know the prices of the markets, and the chances for profitable trades and investments; their consciences will be
full of light, and the straight and narrow path of duty will
be as bright before them as noonday.
2. To be successful seekers of duty we must have singleness of purpose.-Not only must we bring the same
intellectual powers to bear upon moral as upon other
subjects, but we have here especial need to bring a truly
candid and honest heart.  Motives of interest, pride, prejudice, party spirit, if allowed to influence, may sway the
judgment, and thus mislead the conscience. Men thus
become conscientiously obstinate in error. Careful selfexamination should exclude all such motives, and hold
the mind true to the single purpose of knowing and doing
what is right. "If thine eye be single, thy whole body
shall be full of light."
3. Great care should be taken not to mistake other impu,ses for that of conscience.-Even though a man have
honest intention, he may mistake for the dictate of conscience a less worthy impulse. A feeling of mere desire
or passion may be regarded as a conscientious motive.
Some men practically place their conscience in the
stomach; others in the gall or spleen. A splenetic conscience is no uncommon phenomenon. Others place it
in the iliugn.  They are prone to think they do well to be
angry. In fits of anger, they feel for the time that they
ought to take vengeance; or at least that it is righAt to do
so. Under almost any passion, they justify themselves
in doing what the law of God condemns; and even
130 
THE RATIONAL MOTIVE POWERS.
what they condemn, in their more sober and reflecting
moods.
iHence the important rule, not to decide and act under
strong excitements of passion.   In the storm and the
whirlwind, the still small voice of conscience is not heard.
Other impulses overmaster it, and even claim to be conscience itself Satan is thus transformed into an angel of
light.  In seasons of calm reflection, and in the light of
all available truth, let the single inquiry be, 1,8 ths action
right? Have I reason to think that I shall review it with
satisfaction in after life, in the hour of death, at the bar of
God, through eternal ages?
Acting thus as a rational being, and in full view
of his responsibility, the man who is true to his conscience
will ask himself, Is it my duty to do this act? If on the
whole it appears to be so, the impulse of a faithful conscience will be to do it. If it appears otherwise, the impulse of that conscience will be not to do it. Nor can this
admonition, under these circumstances, be easily mistaken. It is a peculiar, firm, distinct utterance; there is no
passion and nothing of the animal in it; it is as if an angel
spoke from a shining cloud, "TuIs IS THE WAY, WALK YE
IN IT.)
4. Yo vio7lence must ever be done to conscientious seruples.-As the impulse of conscience depends upon light in
the intellect, its admonitions may not be distinct for the
want of more light. The mind in this state is said to be
laboring under scruples of conscience.  These scruples
should not be trifled with, neither by the person who harbors them, nor by those who would guide him in duty.
So long as they remain, be they reasonable or not, they
are laws to the subject of them. No person should be
regarded with more tenderness and respect than he, for he
fmurnishes the best evidence of being truly conscientious.
131 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
WVhen a person has any doubt of the rightfulness of an
act, he should keep upon the safe side by avoiding it.
But in such a case, if he gives careful and dispassioned
attention to his conscience, he will usually discover an inclination to the one side or the other; for the impulse of
conscience is never self-balanced.   It may be balanced
against other impulses; but when other impulses are in
abeyance, it moves decidedly towards what on the whole
seems the least doubtful course.
This impulse must be obeyed.  A  person acting thus
may have future cause to regret that his conscience had
not been better enlightened, but he can never feel remorse
for having obeyed its dictates.
5. Uonscience should be obeyed promptly.-By delaying present duty, its admonitions are often weakened, and
the danger increased of losing sight of the duty altogether.
Resisting its admonitions tends to stifle them, and thus to
bring men into the condition of those " having their consciences seared with a hot iron." Such persons are in a
most hopeless state. Better to have been left in ignorance
of duty than thus to have seared the conscience by resisting convictions.' For it had been better for them not
to have known the way of righteousness, than, after they
have known it, to turn from the holy commandment delivered unto them." *
But by rendering prompt and cordial obedience to the
behests of conscience, we quicken and exalt its power over
the soul.  Its impulses are also purer when promptly
obeyed, than when time has allowed other motives to
mix with them. A man is prompted, for instance, by a
pure conviction of duty, to do an immediate act of justice
to his neighbor. Hie resists the conviction for several
* 2 Pet. 2: 21.
132 
THE RATIONAL MOTIVE POWERS.
days, till at length motives of interest, fear of detection,
dread of the shamue of exposure, come in and mingle with
the motive of duty to induce him to perform the act. Hiad
he done it at first, the act would have been from a pure
motive. iHe would have been in that act strictly co2ns?ientious; but now other motives have interposed and injured
its moral purity. Prompt obedience to the voice of duty
is thus essential to purity of motive.
6. Obedience must also be determined and persistent.
-When the convictions of duty are clear, they must be
obeyed at all pains and hazards.  It is sometimes the
least of the duty to be prompt; the main struggle may
come afterwards.   To persevere is often more than to
begin. The noblest virtue and richest rewards come of
long and arduous conflict.  AMany a witness for the truth
who seemed to begin well, has faltered at the sight of the
stake.  "' He that endureth unto the end, the same shall
be saved."
The triumphs and rewards of a good conscience will
surely come at last.  With this assurance every person
must be well armed, who would succeed in a world like
this in the great battle of righteousness.   This is his
"shield of faith, and helmet of salvation."  Chains may
bind the limbs, but they cannot bind the conscience.
Prisons of stone and iron may hold the body for long and
painful years in darkness, but they cannot shut out the
light of truth from the truth-loving soul; they cannot destroy the peace of the dutiful spirit.   Burning  fagots
may torture the nerves and reduce flesh and bones to
ashes; but they cannot disturb the good man's inward
repose, nor arrest his sublime progress to honor and glory
and immortality.
7. We s8houl7d faithfully review the past.-If we would
not be self-deceived, we must often survey our course and
133 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
critically examine our motives. We can usually sit in
judgment upon deeds after they have been done, more
impartially than before. We are then freer from the excitement and passion incident to expected action, and can
scrutinize what we have done at leisure. It was for this
reason that a man was led to remark, that he had an accusation against his conscience, because it did not always
warn him against doing wrong, but was sure to condemn
him after he had done so.
i]ad he listened more attentively to it, he would have
heard its warning voice; but having failed in that duty,
he should take warning for the future. This part of selfexamination is of the highest importance. Without it,
no man knows "what manner of spirit" he is of.  He is
out upon the wide sea of life's events, at the mercy of
every gale, knowing neither his position nor direction.
Many have occasion to mourn the neglect of this duty,
when it is too late. They have allowed themselves to be
driven along by the excitements of gain, of pleasure, of
ambition, for perhaps a series of years, impelled by moe
tives and doing acts which their consciences, had they
soberly reflected, would have utterly condemned. But
they did not reflect; therefore, the wrongfulness of their
course did not impress them.
The time has at length fled, and can never be recalled.
The thought of this sometimes darts upon them as an arrow fiom the skies; they pause for a moment and think
of redeeming the past; but again their panting spirits are
upon the fast trodden way, heedless as ever of conscience,
and all the more impatient for having been molested by it.
But this cannot last always. Age or affliction at length
brings them to a stand.  They are compelled to pause; to
survey the past; to see that they have lost their golden
opportunityfor ever!  That priceless treasure, a pure and
134 
THE RATIONAL MOTILE POWERS.
upright character, they have fatally sacrificed, and with
it all that imparts value to their existence.  They may
have gained their objects, but in so doing they have bartered away the pearl of infinite and enduring value for a
few bursting bubbles.
All youth should be warned by such examples to enter
upon life's perilous course with frequent, thorough, impartial surveys of what they have done, the motives which have
impelled them, and the end towards which they are tending.
8. In view of misdeeds and failures in duty, we should
repent and reform.-All persons, on faithfully reviewing
the past, find much in their conduct and motives to lament. But if they are early in the review, there is hope
of amencient.   They should not be discouraged, but
humbled; they should not yield to despair, but nerve
themselves to a better fight. They should sincerely repent,
seek pardon and strength from on high, and strive to do
well in future.  There is for such a gracious provision.
"IHe will not break the bruised reed."
Repentance does not of itself remove the evil of misdoing, but there can be no remedy without it. In the
mere light of morality, it is an eternal loss to have done
wrong; but having done so, the best possible thing that
remains, is, to strive to regain, by timely repentance, the
path of duty. Of the remedial dispensation, we are to
speak in the proper place. All we need to say here, is,
that they who do repent sincerely, and strive in earnest to
do their duty in future, will find their approving consciences uniting with the sympathies of all good beings to
speed them in the right way.
9. We should always be grateful for success.-It is as
much a duty to be grateful for success as to be penitent for
failures. If a man has been enabled to resist temptation,
and to pursue a straight path of duty; or if he has succeed
135 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
ed to regain the path when he had lost it, he has cause indeed for unspeakable gratitude. If he is truly grateful,
he will be equally humble; for the graces of gratitude
and of humility are indissolubly united. Duly exercised,
they will nourish every other grace, and will impart
strength, steadiness, firmness, to all future good endeavors.
Thus an approving conscience and a grateful heart,
become at once a present reward and a pledge of future
success. Under their benign influence, men "go from
strength to strength." The aspirations of just desire and
the joys of approving conscience, are as eagle-wings, bearing them steadfastly upward to their glorious inheritance.
They "shall renew their strength; they shall mount up
with wings as eagles; they shall run and not be weary;
they shall walk and not faint."
And there is no I)alting in this sublime career. There
is no end to the culture and improvement of conscience,
as there is no reaching ultimately the heights of moral excellence. Far above our feeble thoughts they rise, above the
stars, and into the third heavens of eternal purity and bliss.
Higher and yet higher,is ever the good man's motto.
" We never can have done all that is in our power, in
this respect. It never can be consistent with our duty, to
despair of enlightening and instructing our conscience beyond what we have yet done. Our standard of virtue is
not high enough, if we think it need to be made no higher.
Virtue has never so completely taken possession of a man,
but that she may possess him still more completely; and
therefore any conception of virtue, which we look upon as
perfect, must on that very account be imperfect. Conscience is never fully formed, but always in the course of
formation." *
' Whewell, VoL I., p. 263.
136 
THE RATIONAL MOTIVE POWERS.
And indeed, in every view of it, conscience is the most
august and fearful faculty of the human soul. It is this,
more than all others, that distinguishes us from the brute
creation. On our conduct in relation to it depends all
that is excellent in character, and all that we must ultimately eujoy or suffer, as long as we exist. It is in our
power to make it our most precious and abiding bosom
friend, our most terrible and relentless foe.
Including the highest of the intellective and of the
impulsive powers, and combining them in one great end
of securing man's highest excellence of character, its authority over all the other faculties is supreme, and should
never be resisted for a moment. All other impulses; all
appetites, emotions, desires, affections, volitions; must
stand in awe of it, and be for ever subject to its righteous
demands. Duly enlightened, it is the voice of God in the
soul.
137 
CEIAPTER IV.
TASTE.
THE next rational susceptibility of our nature to be noticed, for the sake of a better name, we call Taste. We
were made not only to do the right, but to enjoy the beautiful. Indeed the right itself is beautiful. We were made
to appreciate and enjoy beauty of character, as well as to
practise it. In this view there is a very close affinity between the moral and the esthetical susceptibilities, and
some writers have even considered them one and the
same. But we shall find them to be distinct faculties.
As conscience is a rational susceptibility to right and
wrong, taste is a rational susceptibility to beauty and deformity. But it is not merely the beauty or deformity of
moral action, to which taste is related. It sweeps the entire range of the natural, the intellectual, and the moral
world, and lays them all under contribution.
We use the term beauty, also, in this connection, in its
broadest sense, as comprehending all that to which man
is related as an esthetical being. In this broad sense, sublimity, grandeur, majesty, are beautiful; so also are order,
fitness, proportion; so are melody and harmony: so are 
THE RATIONAL MOTIVE POWERS.
the doctrines of exact science; and so are all the laws of
nature, as well as the eternal lessons of truth and righteousness.
Taste, as well as conscience, has the motive element,
but it moves us very differently. Conscience incites us
to do the right; taste, to admire the beautiful.  Conscience moves us to act, in view of duty; taste moves us
to exclam, ilow beautiful!  Conscience finds its end in
the rght done; taste finds its end in the beautif/l enjoyed.   Hence the feeling of taste, in distinction from
that of conscience, is by some called, like that of complacent affection, sentiment.
The power of cognition sustains precisely the same relation to the susceptibility of taste, which it does to that
of conscience. Without it neither of these susceptibilities
could be excited; and in each case the quality and direction of the motive force depend much upon the accuracy
and clearness of the perception. For this reason the conscience of a Christian condemns many acts which that of
the savage approves, and the taste of a Christian is disgusted with many things which the savage regards as
beautiful. The difference is principally owing to education, leading them to view things differently.
So distinct are the susceptibilities of conscience and
taste, that we can conceive of an accountable being entirely destitute of the latter.   But he would be angular
and stiff; unlike the rounded and beautiful universe in
which he exists. With conscience and will in perfect
play, he would do exactly what he ought, and no more.
Conscience would impel him to duty; precisely that lihe
would do, and there his lesson would end. Itie would be
like a man composed of only bones, sinews, and tendons.
At the bidding of his will, all the parts would swing and
play round in their joints and sockets, just as they ought;
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MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
but the absence of flesh and color would make him an
unsightly object.
We occasionally see men somewhat after this fashion;
and while we do homage to their severe morality, we feel
that there is in them an awful void of that which renders
humanity genial and lovely. It seems to have been no
part of the Creator's plan to make man such a being; he
therefore inserted in his constitution the principle of taste.
But the difference between men respecting it, as in the
case of conscience, is more due to culture than to constitution.  All men have both conscience and taste as original parts of their nature; and the difference between
the taste of the rude savage and that of the refined Christian, is not greater than the difference between their consciences.
None will pretend that the mora7lity of our puritan
ancestors was not of a high order. But it was of the severe
stamp. There was more of conscience than of taste in it.
They feared God; they reverenced law; they were ever
true to the stern behests of conscience. They strenuously
endeavored to do their duty, as accountable beings; but
they were not wholly true to themselves, as esthetical
beings. Their style of dress and of speech, their mode of
constructing churches, their music, their abjuration or
neglect of the fine arts, are sufficient proof of this.  The
difference between them and their descendants, in this
particular, is clearly owing to difference of culture.
CONSCIENCE AND TASTE COM0BED.
Hiere then we have the two rational impulses, that of
conscience and that of taste, side by side, in the rational
soul; the first indispensable to a moral being, the second
desirable. Without the first, a being is not accountable;
140 
THE RATIONAL MOTIVE POWERS.
without the second, he is not beautiful.  The first is the
husband, commanding and firm; the second is the wife,
engaging and lovely. These twain hath God joined together in the soul, to exalt it in excellence and beauty;
and what God hath thus joined together, let not man put
asunder.
In the nature of God himself, we speak it reverently,
these two principles seem to unite.  In all his doings,
he evidently regards the laws of taste, as well as of jtustice.  He has not only placed the rational universe under righteous moral law, but he has made all things beautiful.
From the humblest flower that opens its modest eye
in the valley, to the sparkling glories of an evening sky;
and from the feeblest hues that play upon the dew-drop,
to the gorgeous splendors of the rainbow; there is beauty
in every trace.
All animal creation, from the microscopic reptile and
insect, up to the lord of creation, is beautifully made.
The universe is one vast gallery of fine arts, in which the
sentiment of taste may luxuriate and grow for ever, and
be never nearer exhausting its treasures than at first.
I-ow clearly then is taste an element of the divine nature,
as it is of ours, made in its likeness.
COMIPARATIVE IMPORTANCE OF CONSCIENCE AND TASTE.
If the question be asked, Which is the more important
to be cultivated, conscience or taste? the answer must be
in favor of conscience.   A  man of bad conscience is
guilty and dangerous; a man of bad taste is vulgar and
disgusting.   A man may be right in part, with a bad
taste; but he cannot be right at all, with a bad conscience.
Both in morals and in religion, the culture of mere taste
141
pw 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
may so supersede that of conscience, as to produce disastrous results upon the character.
This is strikingly seen in some parts of continental
Europe. Taste is there exalted to a passion. Its impulse
sways the soul, and its gratification is meat and drink.
The fine arts are more studied than the Ten Commandments, and to offend taste is a greater crime than to break
God's law. To be immoral is no crime, but to be vulgar
is horrible. The most fervent devotions of the soul are
paid in the picture-gallery; and even the temple of God
is scarcely a place for worship, unless richly adorned by
the fine arts.
When taste thus usurps the place of conscience, and
as it were, absorbs and controls its impulses, it often
leads to the worst of consequences; it even countenances shameless immodesty, and arrays vice itself with
charms.
But after all, this is no reason why we should neglect
to cultivate it. The fault is not in cultivating the taste,
but in neglecting to cultivate the conscience. Let those
to whom we above referred cultivate the conscience, according to its relative importance, with as much zeal
as they do the taste, and they would become splendid
specimens of humanity. Had Raphael been morally
what he was esthetically, he would have been almost
divine.
It is then the duty of every person to be first of all
morally upright, and also to cultivate and exalt his taste
as much as possible. iHe may thus present to God and
man a character complete in all its parts; full, rounded,
beautiful, having the grace and finish of a living form,
and fraught with delicate and genial impulse.
142 
THE RATIONAL MOTIVE POWERS.
THE PRINCIPLES OF BEAUTY SUBJECTIVE.
We have seen that man is constitutionally esthetical
as well as moral; designed to commune with the beautiful as well as the just. We have also seen that the taste
should be cultivated, and is susceptible of indefinite improvement. Are we then to infer that there is no inherent stand(ard of beauty in the mind.?  No more than we
are to infer that there is none of morality. The mind is
so constituted that it intuitively perceives the first principles of beauty, just as it does the first principles of duty.
These principles are woven into the very texture of the
mind; they are wrought into it by the finger of God as a
"living sentiment;" and it needs only to be aroused to
consciousness to recognize them.
Why do the beauties of the landscape so delight even
the untaught savage?  Why has music the power to hold
him entranced and spell-bound?  Why do the well executed works of sculpture and painting kindle in him such
pleasing emotions. Hie may not discern in them all the
fine touches obvious to more cultivated minds; still he
feels the difference between a rude and a finished work.
Hie realizes the beautiful far beyond his power to explain.
And why does all nature, in her endless variety and
profusion of forms and colors, find in him such quick and
glad response?  Just because both the mind within and
the world without, are everywhere alike constructed with
reference to the essential principles of beauty; and hence,
when they are brought in contact, there is in the living
spirit a vivid recognition of this fact. Emotions of delight
are then kindled in the spirit, as when one recognizes the
glowing fatures of a dear friend.
143 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
EVERY PERSON HAS HIS OWN IDEAL OF BEAUTY.
Thus every person may apprehend the first principles
of beauty, and these are essentially the same in all. But
there are endless degrees of culture. Nature herself is
an educator; the rudest savage is in her school, and has
received some of her teaching. And with these endless
degrees of culture, from that of the most abject savage to
that of the most refined and accomplished scholar, are
corresponding ideals of the standard or highest type of
beauty. The standard rises in every mind in the degree
of its culture, and hence every mind has its own standard.
Every person then carries in his own mind his ideal
of beauty. He arraigns all nature and all art before his
sovereign tribunal.  His conscience is not surer nor quicker to approve or to condemn, than his taste is.  His taste,
like his conscience, is improved by culture, and thus, like
it, may approve to-day what it will hereafter condemn;
still, he has his present ideal, such as it is, and that of no
other man will answer for him. It is in vain that others
assure him a thing is beautiful.  Unless it suits his own
ideal, to him it is not beautiful. iHe may as well attempt
to use another man's conscience, as another man's taste.
But the ideal of a man of culture will always be in advance of his power to execute, and perhaps of that of any
other man. The living spirit is quicker to conceive than
the hand is to accomplish. Ilence an artist is ever pursuing his ideal, and never reaches it. Sometimes he seems
to himself farther from it at the end, than at the beginning.  The reason is, that by his culture his ideal keeps
rising, and often outstrips his growing skill. It is said
that Raphael destroyed some of his finest pictures, because they fell so far below his mark. The most beautiful
144 
THE RATIONAL MOTIVE POWERS.
pictures were never yet painted; the most enchanting
music was never sung. They have existed only in the
minds of the artists.
"The rational spirit can itself create its own pure
forms, which shall express the living emotion more full
and perfect than can be embodied in any media of nature
or of art; and thus the cultivated genius has his own absolute ideal beauty, as the highest and purest conception
of the living sentiment in any particular case; and this
he makes his ultimate criterion to judge of any representation in nature or art, and becomes the critic, measuring
and estimating every actual form of beauty that he finds,
and pronouncing it fine or faulty in proportion as it squares
with his own absolute ideal." *
TASTE INDEPENDENT OF THE OUTER WORLD.
It follows from what we have seen, that the soul of
man may enjoy an independence of all nature and of all
art in respect to the pleasures of taste. It deigns to be
moved by them, as external and occasional causes; but it
can be moved without them, by virtue of its powers of
conception and imagination. In the absence of the present world, it can create worlds for itself. It can realize
more glorious forms, more beautiful and enchanting scenes,
than were ever addressed to mortal eyes; more enrapturing music, than ever fell from mortal lips. These material
organs are too gross and feeble to convey to the mind
any thing fully adequate to its high ideals of beauty.
Hence Milton, wholly blind, and Bethoven, wholly
deaf, enjoyed visions and music more glorious than ever
reached them through the organs of sense; and Tenant,
with all the organs of sense entirely suspended, enjoyed
* Hickok's Moral Science, p. 33.
7
145 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
sights, and sounds, and society, and employments, akin to
those of heaven, if not indeed those of heaven itself.
These facts, evincing the soul's capacity for enjoyment
independently of the body and of the material creation,
when its powers are in the exalted service of perfected
conscience and taste, afford us some conception of the
reality and value of its active existence beyond the grave.
DESIGN OF TASTE.
The design of this faculty has been partly anticipated.
Without it man would be incomplete. The brute, by the
absence of reason and conscience, is put in relation only
to the lower world of the senses. For this it is complete
without taste. But man, by the possession of reason and
conscience, is put in relation to the higher world of spiritual excellence and of essential and divine beauty. For
this he is incomplete without the susceptibility in question.
Taste, as well as conscience, punishes and rewards; the
latter by a feeling of approbation or of disapprobation, the
former by a feeling of satisfaction or disgust. Each of
these faculties enhances our enjoyment or our suffering,
according as we are true or false to its behests. Thus
the man of elevated taste and pure conscience, is brought
into delightful relation with all the works and laws of
Jehovah.
While the profound sciences and the rich endowments
of art open to him their exhaustless treasures of beauty,
the entire face of nature, in all its changing aspects, is to
his eye traced with the delicate pencillings of the divine
hand. He feels the genial and glowing impulse of beauty
excited, not only by the more obvious and exciting scenes
furnished by revolving scenes, by rich and varied land
146
v 
THE RATIONAL MOTIVE POWERS.
scapes, by gorgeous evening skies, but by the less observed and less exciting objects ever at hand.
When the "king of day" goes to rest beneath curtains of gold, fringed with diamond lustre, all men feel
the impulse and exclaim, How beautiful! But the person
of true culture does not depend upon these rare exhibitions alone for the gratifications of taste; he finds them in
every blade of grass, in the structure of every leaf, in the
insect's wing, in the spider's web. Like the bee, he
gathers honey from every flower, and extracts it from
even the humblest sources.
The design of this faculty in a strictly moral view cannot be mistaken. Vice is truly an offence against taste,
as well as against morality. Whatever is morally wrong
is in bad taste. All decent men admit this of low vices.
They justly esteem them vulgar. The same is strictly true
of all immoralities. They are all in bad taste. Had this
fact been universally regarded, the world would have been
spared many of those vices which have disgraced the fine
arts. But let us not despair of the time, when a thoroughly correct and chastening taste will unite with conscience
in the universal condemnation of vice.
Not less intimate is the alliance of taste with relgion.
Christianity is as beautiful as it is good. It appeals to
the taste as well as to the conscience, and is equally
adapted to elevate and perfect both. Its divine mission
to the soul of man will not be completed, until he is perfectly qualified to glorify and enjoy God in all his works
and ways.
The teachings of the Bible and the worship which it
enjoins, are sublimely beautiful, and can be fully appreciated and enjoyed only by the man of true taste. The
description of heaven itself; the walls of jasper, the gates
of pearl, the streets of gold; the harps, the crowns, the
147 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
robes, and the eternal anthems of music; all show, however figuratively interpreted, that the pleasures of refined and perfected taste enter largely into the rewards of
the heavenly state.
THE CULTURE OF TASTE.
We have seen that taste, as well as conscience, needs
to be educated.
1. It must be enlightened.   As its susceptibility depends upon the mind's perception of things, its impulses
will be rude or refined, according as the intellect is ill or
well informed. There is probably a difference between
the original susceptibilities of men, but the main difference is made by culture. The fault in the taste of a savage is more in the intellect than in the feeling. He is by
no means wanting in taste; he is delighted with his
beads, and paint, and feathers; but his taste needs culture.
We must then enlighten our taste by studying books
and models of beauty, just as we would enlighten our conscience by studying the Bible and models of Christian
character. If one would improve his taste in literature,
he must read the best standard writers; if in the fine arts,
he must study the best models; if in dress and equipage,
he must have a critical eye to those approved by competent judges; if for architecture and gardening, he must
carefully notice their best specimens; if for the beauties
of nature, he must not only be true to his original perceptions, but must add to these a careful study of her endless forms and features of beauty. He must also mingle
with cultivated and refined society, and catch its living
spirit and manners, just as he must mingle with enlightened and pure Christian society, to improve his conscience
and elevate the tone of his morality and religion.
148 
THE RATIONAL MOTIVE POWERS.
It may be objected that taste thus formed is conventional. So far as it is so, it ceases to be taste, and degenerates to fashion. A style of dress or equipage, for examnple, may be fashionable, but in bad taste. So may a
style of literature, or of building, or even of manners.
The folly and impudence of fashion may for a time override the principles of taste, just as vice may override
those of morality.   But fashion is mutable, while the
principles of taste, like those of morals, are unchanging;
and to these all judgment must ultimately appeal.
It requires but a measured degree of discrimination to
distinguish between taste and fashion. There is a fitness,
an ease, a naturalness, and hence a peculiar charm in
whatever is in accordance with the essential principles of
taste, which commends it irresistibly to the human mind.
2. The taste must be exercised. To do this may be
thought out of the power of most persons.  It may ibe
supposed that they have not the means of indulging it.
But true taste may be exercised with the humblest means.
Indeed it is sometimes even more demanded and more
exhibited in the use of small means than of large. There
is here an important distinction between taste and fashion.
Taste may shine in acknowledged poverty; fashion must
always ape the rich. Taste walks erect and independently; fashion goes crouching and clinging at the skirts of
wealth. The poor man can be as tasteful as the millionnaire.
Taste does not need to rustle in silks, or glitter with
diamonds, or dwell in palaces. The poor peasant girl,
with her simple and tidy dress of the cheapest fabrics,
may exercise as true taste as the daughter of the rich,
with her laces and ribbons. The log cabin may be made
to exhibit as true taste, in the circumstances, as the proudest mansion of the metropolis.
149 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
The directions for the culture of taste are then summarily these: always have an eye to whatever is truly
beautiful in nature and art, and always endeavor, as
means and circumstances permit, to repeat and enjoy it.
CONCLUDING REMARKS.
It may be thought that in a treatise of morals, what
we have said upon taste is out of place. But it is a question whether this element has not been either too much
neglected, or put in a false relation. If it has any thing
distinguishing, it pertains to our susceptibilities, and belongs to moral rather than intellectual philosophy. We
might indeed have an esthetical philosophy, but it would
be incomplete without the moral, as the moral would be
incomplete without the esthetical.
They who attempt to ignore or to repress the principle
of taste in their nature, and to conduct on7ty with reference
to that of a severe and exacting morality, feel a want which
they cannot innocently supply. A part of their nature is
unprovided for. Their morality teaches them that the
pleasures of taste are doubtful, and lead to vice, and they
suppose that to deny them is a part of the self-denial enjoined by Christianity.
But it is not a legitimate indulgence of a constitutional
principle of our nature, that Christianity would have us
deny. It is a perversionT of it. And they who attempt to
practise an unnatural and undemanded self-denial, are apt
to become ascetic and gloomy, and thus to impair their
usefulness, and even their health. While others, less conscientious, or less firmly fortified in the principles of morality, for the want of the rational and pure pleasures of
taste, falter in their course, and sink into gross and forbidden indulgence of the appetites.
150 
THE RATIONAL MOTIVE POWERS.
Let taste, then, be allowed its due place in the ethical
system; let its relations to conscience and to duty be well
defined; and we shall have no occasion to make war
either upon conscience, on the one side, or upon a rational
demand of our nature, on the other. " Happy is he that
condemneth not himself in that thing which he alloweth,"
and happy also is he that wisely alloweth what nature demands, that so he allow not what morality condemns.
Still it must never be forgotten that the pleasures of
taste, however exalted and refined, as truly as those of
sensuality, may be immoral and wicked; and that they
always are so, when they conflict with the demands of
that law, which requires us to make it the supreme object and end of life to glorify and enjoy God, by securing
the highest moral and spiritual well-being of ourselves
and of mankind.
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CHAPTER  V.
W I L L.
WE have already noticed the distinction between the power of mere instinctive volition, as it exists in the animal
nature, and the rational will. It is the latter, the power
of responsible choice, that we now propose to examine.
With this view, we must be allowed here to trench a little upon the limits of psychology.
It must be remembered that what we call powers of
mind, are only man's ability for certain kinds of mental
action.  This term variously qualified indicates, in systematic order, various attributes of one and the same person. To say that a man has the powers of perception,
imagination, memory, is only saying that he can perceive,
imagine, remember. So also to say that he has the powers of affection, desire, will, is only saying that he can
love, desire, choose.
This seems indeed too obvious to need to be said; and
yet serious difficulties, especially in relation to the will,
have often arisen from considering the several mental
faculties as agents, in some sense independent of, or actually controlling, the one responsible man. They are 
THE RATIONAL MOTIVE POWERS.
indeed agents or instruments, but they are agents of the
person, to whom God has given them, to be used by him
as an accountable being.
Now all the world well knows what is meant by choo8sing. The act cannot be explained, just because it is a
simple one and needs no explanation. And when we say
that man is endowed with wuill, we only say that he can
choose; thus asserting a fact of which every person is conscious, and which therefore requires no further proof. No
philosophy can go behind this fact; for the fact is ultimate, and philosophy cannot go beyond what is ultimate.
To speak of free will, is tautology; to speak of enslaved
will, is a solecism.  Man can choose, or he cannot.  If he
can, he has the power which we call will; if he cannot,
he has no such power. We are now speaking of constitutional ability.  Inclination or predisposition to right or
wrong use of the will, is another matter, and will be considered when we treat of moral states and actions.
In the action of the will, a convenient distinction is
made between choice and volition. The word choice expresses a determination or purpose of mind, with reference
to a certain act or course of action.  It may be strictly
immanent, and may repose fully formed in the mind for
months and years. Thus a man determines to-day to go
to Europe next year.   Volition expresses the nisus, or direct exertion of the will, to carry the purpose into effect.
In both choice and volition, the man is equally free and
responsible, but he is not responsible for the s8ucce8ss or
failure of the volition, for of this he has not the control.
Hence all the morality of the act obtains before that point
is reached.
"I can absolutely make the nisus to move my hand,
but the nisus will be followed by the motion only on con
7*
153 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
dition that no antagonistic physical cause overcomes the
mechanical force of the hand. If the hand is bound with
a cord, or manacled, I am not free to move the hand, although I am still free to make the nisul,s or volition." *
The morality of the act must therefore terminate with the
volition, precisely where the liberty terminates. The choice
may long precede the volition, as we have said, or they
may be co-instantaneous, but they are always equally free
acts of the same will and the same responsible person.
A man may purpose to-day to murder a person tomorrow, whom he is expecting then to meet; and thus
the guilty murderer at heart, may exist twenty-four hours,
before the volition is made that strikes the fatal blow; or
his victim may be present, and the volition to strike may
instantly follow the purpose; but both the purpose and
the volition have each a moral quality; for which the
man is responsible If he freely arrests his murderous
purpose, and does not strike the fatal blow, he is less guilty
than if he adds to that purpose the final volition that consummates his crime. In the latter case he is guilty for
the purpose, and he is guilty also for the volition that
wields the blow; but whether the blow is efectual or not,
does not affect his guilt.
All this, the truth of which we cannot fail to see, is
predicated of the fact that the man is not the instrument
of his will, but that his will is the instrument of the man;
which will he is free to use, and is justly held responsible
for the way in which he employs it.
"To talk of liberty," says President Edwards, " or the
contrary, as belonging to the very will itself is not to
speak good sense. For the will itself is not an agent that
has a will; the power of choosing, itself, has not a power
of choosing. That which has the power of volition is the
* The Doctrine of the Will, by Henry P. Tappan, p. 95.
154 
TIIE RATIONAL MOTIVE POWERS.
man, or the soul, and not the power of volition itself. To
be free is the property of an agent who is possessed of
powers and faculties, as much as to be cunning, valiant,
bountiful, or zealous. But these qualities are the properties of persons, and not the properties of properties." *
IN WHAT SENSE ACTS OF THE WILL ARE CAUSED.
The necessitarian scheme has most of its support from
arguments founded on the laws of cause and effect in the
natural world. It is a law of nature, that any body at rest
will continue at rest until acted upon by something called a
cause.  Thus every movement in nature is, in some sense,
an effect of a preceding one, and that of another preceding it, until we reach the Supreme Being, who alone acts
of himself. Now the human will has been by some philosophers placed in this chain of cause and effect.   Our
volitions have been supposed to be caused by something
without our control, acting upon the will, as the turning
of the wind-mill is caused by the wind. This is fatality.
We say in reply, that we do not deny the all-pervading law of cause and effect, but maintain that it operates
in the material world conformably to the nature of matter, and in the mental world conformably to the nature
of mind. Now man is a rational, spiritual being, made
in the image of his Maker; and, like him, is capable of
free and responsible action. Like God himself, he can
begin, originate, a series of actions; and, so far as the actions are in his own mind, he can arrest, terminate, a series
which he has begun. Hie can begin to do good or evil;
he can cease from so doing. This is implied in the very
idea of a responsible will.
The fact is certain; so rendered by three invincible
* Works, vol. II.
155 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
proofs, human consciousness, the Bible, and the clearest
deductions of reason; but the modus of the fact transcends
our present powers. Here a true, honest philosophy
only looks, admires, and confesses her ignorance.
"How the will can possibly be free, must remain to
us, under the present limitation of our faculties, wholly
incomprehensible. We are unable to conceive an absolute commencement. Nay, were we even to admit as
true what we cannot think as possible, still the doctrine
of a motiveless volition would be only casualism; and the
free acts of an indifferent, are, morally and rationally, as
worthless as the pre-ordered passions of a determined will.
Hiow, therefore, I repeat, moral liberty is possible in man
or God, we are utterly unable speculatively to understand.
But practically thefact, that we are free, is given to us in
the consciousness of an uncompromising law of duty, and
in the consciousness of our moral accountability; and this
fact of liberty cannot be redargued on the ground that it
is incomprehensible, for the philosophy of the conditioned
proves, against the understanding, that things there are,
which may, nay must be true, of which the understanding
is wholly unable to construe to itself the possibility." *
Because man wills freely, it does not follow that he
wills without motives. It is not to be supposed that God
wills without motives; no more does man. Yet who will
say, that because God wills in view of motives to create
a world, hlie is therefore not free in creating? t Is it not
* Hamilton's Phil. of the Conditioned, p. 509.
t The author is aware that some have said it. They have denied the essential freedom of God himself, and asserted that his creative and other acts are
necessary. But they have done so in obedience to a presupposed theory, to
which every thing must yield, rather than from the spontaneous dictates of the
primal and unbiassed judgment. Cousin and others have asserted the necessity, on the ground that God's distinguishing characteristic is that of an absolute creative force, which must necessarily pass into activity.   "The subjec
156 
THE RATIONAL MOTIVE POWERS.
his glory that all his actions are transcendently free, and at
the same time from the best of motives? Why then should
it be supposed that man, just because he acts from motives, acts of necessity?  The truth is exactly the reverse
of this. It is only as a being acts from motives, that his
actions are free. Action not directed by intelligent motive, is necessary action; like that of a brute obeying its
instinct, or that of a cloud moved by the wind.
OCCASIONAL AND EFFICIENT CAUSES.
As these terms have extensive currency, we must explain and use them. The occasional cause, in moral
science, is the botive from which the man wills; the efficient cause is the man himself. The term occasional
cause is not a happy one,for it is often understood to imply
necessity. The truth is, the fact which it indicates is not
really a cause of volition. For to say that a man is by it
Induced to will, is only saying that in view of it he is willing to will; which is only saying that he willgs. Thus
all we can make of it, is, that in view of the fact the man
tion of the Deity to a necessity, a necessity of self-manifestation identical with
the creation of the universe, is contradictory of the fundamental postulates of
a divine nature.   On this theory, God is not distinct from  the world;  the
creature is a modification of the creator."-HAMILTON on the Conditional, p. 480.
Whilst others, from adopting a metaphysical error, and mistaking the essential nature of moral action, have predicated a necessity of the divine goodness,
as compelling choice from the highest motives. The assertion is suicidal; for
in the very act of asserting the excellence of God, they deny his excellence, by
denying his freedom. The moral quality of any act depends essentially upon
its being a free act.   See Cousin, Cours d' Hist. de la Philosophie Morale,
Hume's Treatise on Human Nature, Cudworth's Intel. Sys., Coleridge's Aids to
Reflection, Edwards on the Will, Day on the Will, Tappan on the Will, and
others of a similar class, in which the reader will find both sides ingeniously
and sometimes ably discussed. Above all, see Hamilton's Phil. of the Conditional, a thesaurus of great and mighty erudition, collated and applied as a
Scotch intellect knows how to do it.
157 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
freely wills. If the fact or motive had no existence, not
only would the man not will freely, but he would not will
at all.
Neither is the efcient cause of human choice and
volition, the same as an efficient cause in nature. In the
natural world, the efficient cause of all phenomena is
either God himself, or some power lodged by Him in the
antecedents. But in the case of human choices and volitions, the immediate cause, by the supposition, is not God;
nor is it a power, like that supposed in nature, lodged in
the antecedents. For the supposed power in nature, or
what some philosophers call a natural cause, is always
active and effective. This is a first law of physics. Nothing short of a miracle can suspend the operation of a
cause in nature. Its operation, miracle apart, is made
necessary and constant, by the direct power of God. But
man, like the Being in whose likeness he was made, while he
has at all times the power to will, is not constan?,tly willing.
"Let it be borne in mind, then, that there is more than
one process in the universe. Some things are produced,
it is most true, by the prior action of other things; and
herein we behold the relation of cause and effect, properly
so called; but it does not follow that all things are embraced in this one relation. This appears to be so only to
the mind of the necessitarian; from which one fixed idea
has shut out the light of observation. He no longer sees
the rich variety, the boundless diversity, there is in the
works of God. All things and all modes and all processes
of the awe-inspiring universe, are made to conform to the
narrow methods of his own mind.   Look where he will,
he sees not the free and flowing outlines of nature's true
lineaments; he every where beholds the image of one fixed
idea in his mind, projected outwardly upon the universe
of God; behind which the true secrets and operations of
158 
THE RATIONAL MOTIVE POWERS.
nature are concealed from his vision. Even when he
contemplates that living source of action, that bubbling
fountain of volitions, the immortal mind of man itself, he
only beholds a thing, which is made to act by the action
of something else upon it; just as a body is made to move
by the action of force upon it. His philosophy is, therefore, an essentially shallow and superficial philosophy."*
HOW THE WILL IS DETERMINED.
The great question respecting the freedom of the will,
on which Jonathan Edwards and others have largely
written, turns on the way or means by which human volitions are determined. For, merely attempting to prove
that the will is free, is only attempting to prove that the
will is a will; or, in other words, a power of willing.
This would be gravely attempting to prove, that what is,
is. The mind of that great man was engaged in no such
idle play, as some have vainly imagined. But there is
sometimes in his reasoning a confusion of terms, from his
using the same term in different senses; which he might
have avoided by always referring the influence of motives
to the agent himself, instead of his will.
On this point Stuart has justly remarked: " Instead of
speaking, according to the common phraseology, of the
influence of motives on the well, it would be much more
correct to speak of the influence of motives on the agent.
We are apt to forget what the will is, and to consider it
as something inanimate and passive, the state of which
can be altered only by the action of some external cause.
The habitual use of the metaphorical word motives, to
denote the intentions or purposes, which accompany our
voluntary actions, or, in other words, the ends which we
* Bledsoe's Examination, p. 54.
159 
MORAL PHILOSOPIY.
have in view in the exercise of power intrusted to us, has
a strong tendency to confirm us in this error, by leading
us to assimilate in infancy the volition  of a mind to the
motion of a body, and the circumstances which give rise
to this volition to the vis motrix by which the motion is
produced." *
OBJECTIVE AND SUBJECTIVE MOTIVES.
The occasional causes, so called, or, more properly,
motives, which influence us in our choices and volitions,
are of two kinds, objective and subjective. The objective
motive is the object chosen, or the object without our
mind, in view of which we choose. The subjective motive is the feeling, or state of mind, which prompts us to
choose. Thus, a man is induced to go to California in
pursuit of gold. HIis objective motive in going is money;
his subjective motive is the desire for the money. These
two motives are correlative. The one is of no avail without the other. The gold would be no motive, without the
desire for it; and the desire would be no motive, without
the prospect of the gold.
A man submits to a painful operation to save his life.
The objective motive is his life; the subjective motive is
his des8ire to live. The prospect of saving his life would
be no motive for submitting to the operation, if he were
not desirous of living.
A man leaves his business, and performs a long journey, to be united in marriage with the object of his
affection. His objective motive for the journey is the
person whom he loves; his subjective motive is his love
for her. The object of his love would be no motive for
the journey, if there were no prospect of obtaining her;
* Phil., p. 25.
160 
THE RATIONAL MOTIVE POWERS.
and the prospect of obtaining her would be no motive, if
he did not love her.
Thus the Creator has made the world without us to
correspond to the world within us. Rational acts of will
are in view of objective motives, and these motives are
relevant to the subjective motives or feelings of the mind.
There is then a regular law of action in the mental as well
as in the material universe.
But motives do not control the will, according to the
law of cause and effect in the natural world. The law is
as regular in the one case as in the other, but it is not the
same.  In the one case, it is the law of passe matte  r   in
the other, of active spirit. In the one case, there is no
reason to perceive, and no will to choose; in the other
case, there are both of these.
When a live spark is thrown upon a trail of dry gunpowder communicating with a magazine, an explosion
must follow, by an irresistible law of nature. There is no
reason in the spark to foresee the disastrous effects, and
no will to resist the explosion. But in the mind of him
who threw the spark, there was reason to foresee the
effect, and will by which he could decide against the act.
His motives for firing the magazine may have been powerful; they may have been, so to speak, almost omnipotent; but omnipotent they could not be, unless the will
ceased to be will, at least in respect to that act.
Thus every rational being has the responsible control
of his own will. To say that he has this, is only saying
that he wills for himself, and not another for him. He
also wills, not by blind impulse, as effects take place in
the natural world, but as an intelligent being, ever bound
to act in view of his responsibilities and duties. Hience,
to will freely, is by no means the same thing as to will
capriciously. The laws of the moral world are as certain
161 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
and uniform as those of the natural. Responsible choice
always implies intelligent design, having reference to that
correlativeness of motives, which is as steady and uniform
as the course of nature. Without such design, a man's
volitions imply in him no more character than the pulsations of the heart or the sports of the breezes.
U
DISTINCTION BETWEEN THE WILL AND THE AFFECTIONS.
Some distinguished authors have considered the affections and the will, one and the same faculty. Thus Edwards says, " The affections are no other than the more
vigorous and sensible exercises of the inclination and will.
The will and the affections of the soul are not two facul
ties; the affections are not essentially distinct from the
will, nor do they differ from the mere actings of the will
and inclination, but only in the liveliness and sensibility
of the exercise." *
But this celebrated author was not here attempting a
minute psychological analysis. Hie was considering the
soul with simple reference to a point of religious doctrine,
under two general divisions, understanding and will; thus
merging all the intellective faculties into the former, and
all the motive into the latter.
"In the general division of our faculties into understanding and will," says Reid, "our passions, appetites,
and affections, are comprehended under the will; and so
it is made to signify not only our determination to act or
not to act, but every motive or incitement to action. It
is this, probably, that has led some philosophers to represent desire, aversion, hope, fear, joy, sorrow, all our appetites, passions, and affections, as different modifications of
the will; which, I thilnk, tends to confound things which
are very different."t
* Works  vol. V., p. 10.
162
t Vol. IV., p. 6. 
THE RATIONAL MOTIVE POWERS.
Indeed Edwards himself finds it necessary sometimes to
make the distinction. iHe calls the affections "immanent,"
the will "manent."  "The former," he says, "remain in
the mind without any immediate relation to any thing to
be brought to pass in action; the latter respect something to be done."
THE WILL AND) THE AFFECTIONS HAVE DIFFERENT OBJECTS.
The affections have beings for their object, the will has
relations, duties, interests. We love friends; we choose
their society. A woman loves a child; she chooses to
adopt it. A man loves a person; he chooses her as his
wife. The people of a parish love the man, whom they
choose as their pastor.   Thus the will sustains to the
affections, in this particular, the same relation which the
desires do. Both the desires and the will have thA;ngs for
their object, while the affections repose only in living beings.
The will can resist the afections and desires.-Instead
of being the same with the will, the affections and desires
are only motives of action, which the responsible person
may or may not adopt. Hie is at liberty to determine to
indulge or to refuse them.
First, the will can resist the  ffection8.  We have seen
that the afections have respect only to their specific object; whilst a man may choos8e, with reference to all the
circumstances, within the range of his mental vision.
Hence the saying, "Love is blind." It regards only its
particular object. When we see a person congenial to us,
our affectons flow spontaneously towards that person,
without regard to circumstances or results. But, guided
by an enlarged view and a sense of duty, we may refuse
an improper indulgence of the affections. We may not
be able to exterminate the affection; it may be a part of
163 
MORAL PHILOSOPIIY.
our nature; but we can resist it, so far as to refrain from
any wrong executive choice to which it may prompt us.
Secondly, the will can resist the desires. Whatever
be a man's desires, he may always see reasons enough for
controlling them as he ought; motives enough, if he duly
regards them, for choosing the path of duty. But if he
will not consider, and will heed neither the voice of prudence nor the admonitions of conscience, he must then, of
course, be a creature of mere impulse; a thing, to be
moved only as the machine carries him.
What we have here said of the affections and desires, is
equally true of all the subordinate impulses. The will, as
an executive faculty, is alike distinct from them all, and
the responsible man is bound to employ it in the way most
effectual to their due control and direction. The conflict
may sometimes be severe, especially with a disordered appetite; but no demand of appetite, of passion, of affection,
or of desire, can ever be so urgent, as to exonerate him
from the duty of bringing them all into subjection to the
laws of morality.
164 
PART III.
MORAL ACTION.
CHAPTER I.
MORALLY RIGaHT AFFECTION.
WHFILE natural affection is a mere spontaneous outburst
of the heart, the work of the Creator in us, moral affection
is in the keeping and service of conscience and the responsible will. When a person becomes practically conscientious in the exercise of affection, controlling it with a
regard to duty, the affection is not only amiable, but
morally ~ight. It is not only what the mere animal
naturally does exercise, but what a rational and accountable being ought to exercise.
Not only do natural affections thus become invested
with moral quality, but entirely new affections may be
called into existence.
Moral affection is a complex feeling.  That we may 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
understand its various modifications due to different
beings, we must analyze it.
It includes,
1. A perception of something pleasing in its object.
2. A cordial affecton for him.
3. An agreeable emotion towards him, attending the
affection.
4. A benevolent desire for his welfare.
If only the first three conspire, the affection may be
mere natural love; but they are all united in the affection
termed moral love.
For reasons that will appear, these elements must not
be confounded. The perceptive part belongs to the intellect. The affection and the emotion coexist, but are not
the same thing. A person may, at one time, have very
lively emotion, accompanying feeble affection; at another
time, he may have very deep and strong affection, attended with little emotion.
Emotion springs into life quickly; affection is the
growth of time. With young lovers, emotion predominates; after they have been long and happily united, affection predominates.  At first, they love more ardently;
in subsequent years, more afectionately. The same law
holds in all other affections. The young Christian has
usually more vivid emotion, than he has after years of
religious experience; but his pious affection may be continually growing deeper and stronger.
Moral affection is a steady princivle of the heart, under
control of the enlightened conscience. The emotion attending it does not depend merely upon the clearness of
the perception, or the strength of the affection, but upon
various exciting causes in the object and in circumstances.
It is affected by age, by the state of health, by the weather,
by the concurrence of pleasing or of disagreeable events.
166 
MORAL ACTION.
The desire for the welfare of those we love, is a still
more distinct element. We may most earnestly desire
the welfare of a person, whose character is such that we
can have little complacency in him. Indeed we may be
able to find nothing in him to engage our interest, but the
fact that he is a human being. Besides, as has been shown
in a previous chapter, affection and desire respect different objects; the former having beings for its object;
the latter, things. We love the person; we desire his
welfare.
The above analysis will enable us to understand the
various modi,catijons of love.  When  the first element
predominates, attended with little feeling, the love is very
intelligent and discriminating. When the second element
is decisive and strong, the love is characterized by sincerity
and earnestness. When the third element is excessive,
the love becomes a weak fondness, and sometimes a blind
passion. If it is unaccompanied by the last element, it
degenerates to mere lust. This is the name for selfish
passion. If the fourth element predominates, with very
little of the second and third, the love is chiefly benevolence, or good will. If accompanied with corresponding
conduct, it rises to the virtue of beneficence.
It will be seen, also, that love indicating the same
moral excellence, is of various modifications according to
the nature of the beings we love, and according to our
relations with them. The love of a parent for a child, is
not like the love of a child for the parent. Conjugal love
differs from either. Still unlike all the others is true love
to God.
ONLY LOVE IS A RIGHT AFFECTION.
Love and hatred are opposed to each other; the former
being the morally riAght and the latter the morally wrong
167 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
affection. We shall in the next chapter see reasons for
concluding that hatred is never right. We are now concerned with its opposite, love. It is right to love all
beings, not excepting our enemies, or even the worst of
men. But the love should correspond to its object. The
proofs that love is always the right affection are the following:
1. Love is instinctive to the human mind. The disposition is strictly natural. It is the work of God in us; the
normal state of affection. We were made to love. Children love before they hate; and except as they are perverse they do not hate at all, unless some unfriendly being
comes in their way. Whether they ouwht then to hate,
we are not now to inquire; for our only point here is to
show that they are naturally inclined to love. It is only
necessary to be with a child for a short time, exhibiting
no unfriendliness, to secure his love.  Indeed we are so
constituted that we must love, or be miserable. But we
have no such necessity to hate. This proves that we were
made to love.
2. The loving affection is a happy one. It is always
a source of enjoyment. "The sentiment of love is in itself
agreeable to the person who feels it. It soothes and composes the breast, seems to favor the vital motions, and to
promote the healthful state of the human constitution;
and it is rendered still more delightful by the consciousness of the gratitude and satisfaction which it must excite
in him who is the object of it. Their mutual regard renders them happy in one another, and sympathy, with this
mutual regard, makes them agreeable to every other person." * If then the Being who made us wills our happiness, love is the right affection.
* Smith's Theory of Moral Sentiment, p. 80.
168 
MORAL ACTION.
3. Coscience approves of the benevolent affection.
Ken never feel condemned for loving their fellow-beings,
,ven their enemies. They often feel condemned for hating,
)ut never for loving; unless the love is an impure affecion. On the contrary, every man is conscious of a feeling
)f self-approbation, when he returns love for hatred and
,ood for evil.
4. The believer in Christianity finds conclusive proof
)f the same, in its teachings. "Love all men." "Love
Four enemies." "Render not evil for evil." "If ye love
Four friends only, what thank have ye? "  "Let us love
)ne another; for love is of God." Indeed this affection is
he crowning excellence of God himself.  "God is love."
ro love all beings, the evil as well as the good, enemies
is well as friends, is, according to Christianity, to be like
)ur Father in heaven.
Having thus shown that love is always the right affec-ion we shall for the present leave the proof that the
)pposite, hatred, is always wrong, and proceed to explain
he various modic.cations of love due to dTerenet beings.
THE AFFECTION DIYE TO GOD.
It does not belong to our present task to adduce the
Formal proofs of the Divine existence, but for the present
assuming that there is a God, such as Christianity reveals,
we are to indicate the affection due to Him. We see in
HIlim all that is worthy to receive our highest and most
absolute homage. We have revealed to our faith an
infinite BEING, perfect and glorious in all his attributes.
His love, his pity, his forbearance, his compassion, his
justice, all absolutely infinite and unchanging, are under
the guidance of an all-embracing and unerring wisdom.
IIe is a Being of spotless purity, of transcendent holiness,
of boundless benevolence.
8
169 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
He lives and reigns to do good.  He sits upon th(
throne of the universe, not as an arbitrary monarch, no
to subserve selfish ends, but to protect the sacred interest,
of righteousness and sustain its everlasting laws. He i,
hence just such a Being as all upright creatures woul(
choose for their moral guardian and ruler.
But while he thus reigns in infinite and unbending
righteousness, while justice and judgment are the habita
tion of his throne, he has yet an eye to pity every sorrow.
and a heart to feel for every woe. The sublime and
awful glory of his holiness, is equalled only by the tenderness of his pity and the gentleness of his compassion
Not a sparrow falls to the ground without his notice, and
his tender mercies are over all his works.
THAT BEING IS OUR OWN GOD.  He is the Maker of oHu
frame and the Father of our spirit.  He made us in hi,
own likeness, to love and enjoy him for ever. To him w(
are indebted, not only for our existence, but for all thai
makes our existence a blessing. All that is desirable in the
life that now is, and all that may be hopeful in the life tc
come, we owe to him.
He is not far off, like some earthly monarch, that we
cannot approach him. He is ever with us. In him we
live and move and have our being. We realize his powei
and goodness in every beating pulse, in every breath thai
is dealt out to us, in all the warm currents of life and joy
that flow through our frames.
Although he is "the great and dreadful God," yet he
condescends, in his Spirit and with his Word, to dwell in
every one of us, to enlighten our consciences, to guide our
steps, to warn us against every wrong way; to uphold our
steps, to bear our burdens, to comfort our afflictions, to
pity our sorrows, and cheer us with the hope of immortal
life.
170 
MORAL ACTION.
He is also perpetually round about us and communing
with us, in his works and providential dealings. The
heavens declare his glory, and the well-ordered seasons
ever speak of him; seed-time and harvest, day and night,
summer and winter, are all eloquent of his praise; all
lands and seas are full of the riches of his goodness; every
sunbeam and every breeze comes to us laden with his love.
Now the question is, What is the affection due to such
a Being? All must see, that it should be supreme, reverential, filial, grateful, constant, and commanding. This
need not be argued; it is only necessary to explain these
qualities, and every conscience will approve of them.
1. SUPREME. By this is meant, that we should love
God more than any other being. He should be the first
great object of our affection; we should have no other
gods before him. There is more in him to love, than in
any other being, or in all others combined. Hie is worthy
of our supreme love; no other being is.  Then the relations he sustains to us, as our Creator, our Heavenly Father, our Upholder and Moral Guardian, our Redeemer
and our final Judge, all proclaim that to him alone our
highest homage is and must be for ever due.
2. REVERENTIAL. To exercise towards this great and
glorious Being the same fond and familiar affection which
we may towards a fellow-creature, would be impious and
profane. Such homage as this, we should not dare to
render even to an earthly monarch.  Our affection for
God should be deep, strong, calm, earnest; the cordial
surrender of the entire soul in supreme homage to him;
but it should be ever characterized with the profoundest
humility, awe, and reverence. Hence familiar epithets,
such as dear God, should be publicly used with caution,
if we would not offend the proprieties of religion and of
good taste.
171 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
3. FILIAL. Still our affection for God should partake
much of the jtlal quality.  He is more than merely our
Creator and Benefactor; he is our fecavenly Father. As
he has for us, although in a higher and purer sense, the
feelings of an earthly parent for his offspring, so we should
exercise towards him the feelings of conJ.dinc and devoted
children. Our love to God should be complacent and
emotional, trustful and gladsome, as well as affectionate
and devout. It should lead us to delight in him, so that
we should esteem every other pleasurable emotion of small
value, compared with that of beholding his face in beauty.
4. GRATEFUL. We sustain to God the relation of depend(ent and helple8ss beings to an infinite Benefactor.
We ought, therefore, to love him not only for what he is,
and for what he has done, but for what he has donefor Us.
Nor is this, as some have supposed, a selfish affection, if
we also truly love God for what he is. It modifies and
enhances that love. It is a feeling of obligation, blending
with the feeling of love, and inciting the soul to a higher
reach of affection.  It leads us to inquire what returns we
should make for these stupendous gifts. Its language is,
" What  shall I render to the Lord for all his benefits
toward me? I will take the cup of salvation and call
upon the name of the Lord; I will pay my vows now in
the presence of all his people." This is any thing but a
selfish homage.
5. CONSTANT. From the nature of the human mind
its emotions must vary, and even its affections cannot be
always the same. Yet there is an affection, which is like
the great and deep river, ever flowing in the same direction and into the same sea, although not always equally
full and rapid.  Such is the affection due to God.  Himself ever the same, he is ever equally worthy of our
supreme love.
172 
MORAL ACTION.
No good reason can exist why we should love him less
to-day than at any previous time; on the contrary, as our
knowledge of him increases, and we have an ever-growing
experience of his benefits, our constant love should be
constantly increasing; like the river receiving tributaries,
and thus perpetually enlarging, through its entire long
way to the ocean.
To vary our illustration, true love to God is like that
mysterious power which holds the planets in firm allegi ance to the sun. In some parts of their orbits they are
nearer to the sun, and move faster than at others; but
their hold upon the glorious object of their devotion is
never relaxed for a moment. Such should be the constancy of our love to God.
6. CoMMAING.  A mere immanent affection, which
loses itself in pleasant meditations and rapturous excitements, without inducing conformity of life to the divine
law, is not the love due to our Heavenly Father. The
right affection is commanding; and its commands are
obeyed. It bids its subject do God's will; and he does it.
It thus rules the heart and conduct.
It calls into steady and effective action the fourth element of moral love, the desire; it thus becomes a benevolent principle, lasting as existence. Emotion may rise
and fall, but the affection abides in the heart; the principle of allegiance, the supreme desire and purpose to
please God, is ever there.  "This is the love of God, that
ye keep his commandments." Thus the evidence of true
love to God must be found in a course of life essentially
conformed to the divine law.
Such is the affection due to God. It is as truly a
moral as a religious affection.  We  clearly see, in the
light of pure morality, that it is such an affection as we
ought to render him.  However right with his fellow
173 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
beings, in the view of a mere secular morality, no man is
morally right with God, unless hlie renders to him the
homage which we have described.
RIGHT DOMESTIC AFFECTIONS.
UInder this general head we include conjugal, parental,
filial, and fraternal affections. They all have their springs
in nature, but they should be regulated by moral principle.
Unless they are so, beautiful as they are by nature, they
may become by perversion instruments of evil. They are
all to be kept in subordination to the higher affection due
to God.  IlIe who loves even father or mother more than
God, is guilty of a moral wrong in respect to the most
important of all relations.
1. CONJUGAL AFFECTION. The affection subordinate
only to the love due to God, is that which belongs to the
conjugal union.  The parties united in marriage are bound
to love each other more than any other human being.
Before this union existed, the filial affection claimed
supremacy; now the conjugal supersedes it.  "For this
cause shall a man leave his father and mother, and be
joined unto his wife, and they twain shall be one flesh."
Conjugal love should fully embrace all the elements
of moral affection. The love which nature furnished;
which was in the hearts of the parties before they were
united and which led to the union, must now be taken into
the custody of conscience, to be controlled, nourished, per fected, by moral principle. With the deep and growing
affection must continue the complacent delight, which will
ever make the parties happy in each other, and these must
be attended with such benevolent desires for each other's
welfare, as shall prompt every needful effort and sacrifice
to promote it.
174 
MORAL ACTION.
Thus the affection, which was at first, perhaps, little
else than a complacent fondness, gradually grows to a
fuLll-orbed and shining love; in the warmth and the light
of which the happy pair move on together in life's journey,
mutually blessing and blessed.
PARENTAL AFFECTION. Next to the affection which
parents owe to each other, is that due to their offspring.
To aid and prompt them in this duty, the Creator has
kindly implanted a natural affection; and it is their duty
so to cherish and direct it, as to secure the best welfare
of their child. It is not the love of mere fondness, which
is demanded. This will blind them to their child's faults,
and render them too indulgent.
Parental affection should be characterized by deep,
steady, patient benevolence; otherwise the complacent
emotion, with which the fond parent contemplates his
children, may render him a most unfaithful guardian. It
should be a sympathetic, enduring, and conscientious love,
which is not blind to their faults, but forbearing; which
firmly denies them what is wrong or injurious; which
chastises, if need be, but not in anger; which encourages
every virtuous endeavor; which anticipates every want;
which seeks to guide, cheer, educate, and train up to a
virtuous and elevated life, the precious beings intrusted
to its care.
FILIAL AFFECTION. The affection of the child for his
parents, should have much resemblance to that which we
owe to God. It is the love of a young, inexperienced,
dependent being, for those to whom, under God, he owes
his existence, and on whom he is dependent for support
and guidance. Hience his love should be confiding and
grateful, respectful and obedient. As parental love seeks
to benefit the child, so filial love should seek to please the
parent.
175 
MORAL PHILOSOPtHY.
Filial affection is not supplanted by marriage. An other affection supervenes, to which it is relatively subor dinate, but it should be absolutely as strong as before.
The parent who gives a dutiful child in marriage, does
not lose that child, but gains another.
The true filial affection seeks to repay the debt incurred
in childhood; to do for the parent in age and feebleness,
what the parent did for the child in infancy and helplessness; it honors the parent's gray hairs, supports his feeble
steps, smooths the furrows ploughed in his face by care
and time; it watches tenderly around his sick bed, pours
its soothing voice into his dying ear; and it never forgets
to drop tears, fresh and warm from the heart, over his grave.
FRATERNAL AFFECTION.  The natural affection of the
children of the same family for each other, important as
it is, proves to be entirely inadequate to secure the welfare
of the household, unless it is sustained and wielded by an
enlightened conscience. Brothers and sisters cannot be
too early and earnestly taught, that it is their duty to love
each other, and to do all in their power to promote each
other's present and prospective welfare.
The family is the smallest and most compact of all
communities; hence the interests of its members are very
closely interwoven. There is no avoiding collision, irritation, contention, but by that deep and steady affection
which duty enjoins, and which makes every member as
desirous of another's welfare as his own. Children trained
to this principle, through the whole period of their minority, will not fail to make good members of that larger
community, for which they are destined in future life.
RIGHT SOCIAL AFFECTION.
The modifications of affection due to our neighbors,
and to our fellow-beings generally, depend upon various
176 
MORAL ACTION.
circumstances. We cannot love all alike. We naturally
feel the most affection for those with whom we have been
most associated. This is well. But we are not required
to love even those with the same affection.
There is a congeniality of tastes, temperaments, pursuits, which inclines us to love some more than others,
and thus leads to what are called special friendships.
These are not only natural, but morally right, so long as
they do not become exclusive.   So soon as they are
allowed to narrow the soul and shut off the affection that
is due to others, they become selfish and pernicious. We
may love our particular friends as much as we please, if
we still love all our fellow-beings as we ought.
It was evidently intended that these particular friendships should exist. The foundation for them is laid in the
diversity of tastes and callings; and it would be impossible
to bestow those special attentions upon all, which are
necessary to keep alive a particular friendship and to
gratify its wants.  iHnce all have the right to select their
intimate friends, with whom they visit and exchange hospitalities, and to whom they intrust their most sacred
sympathies; and none may complain of this, or indulge
jealousy and envy, since the same privilege is freely
granted to all.
It is thus that the pure and refined virtues of social
friendship, so productive of human happiness, are fostered
and protected. When friends thus love one another
"with pure hearts fervently," when they heartily reciprocate each other's feelings and seek each other's welfare,
and when they consecrate their mutual love to the will
and service of God, they may hope to perpetuate their
friendship and minister to each other's joy in a future
state of being. This is the true idea of a Christian church,
anticipating upon earth the full fruition of heaven.
8*
177 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
RIGHT AFFECTION TOWARDS BAD MEN.
We cannot feel towards bad men the same affection
which we do towards good men. True love is and ought
to be discriminating. It must see reasons for loving; and
if it sees any in a bad man, it certainly sees mnore in a
good man. Hence the affection must be different.
The only question is, ought we to love bad men at all?
They may not be worthy-of our love, in point of character;
but it does not follow that we should not love them. If
our Heavenly Father loved none but those who are worthy
of his love, it is to be feared that few of us would have a
place in his heart. Is there not something, even in the
very worst man, that is a reason why we should love him?
There may not be in his character, but is there not in his
humanity? He is our brother, fallen and wretched, but
still our brother. Then should not our hearts yearn
towards him?
He was made in the likeness of God, as a rational
being. He is the same being still. The divine image is
still there; marred and defaced, but not annihilated. The
glorious moral likeness to God has departed, but something of the primitive humanity remains.  And is not
that interesting to us?  The divine mind so regards it, and
so must we, if we would be the children of God. Yes,
there i8 something in the man, however bad he may be,
because he is a man, that calls for our affection.
We may abhor his character; we may be disgusted
with his vices; but we should cherish the kindred regard
for the man. This affection should be pitiful and benevolent, leading us to do all in our power to reclaim and save
him. If we turn from him with a frowning and pharisaical spirit; if we utterly despise him, and cast him out of
178 
MORAL ACTION.
our sympathies to perish in his guilt; we are false to ourselves, and false to our brother. So did not Jesus Christ;
and are not his spirit and life the perfection of all morality?
RIGHT AFFECTION TOWARDS OUR ENEMIES.
We now come to perhaps the most trying of all the
duties of morality. Ought we to love our enemies? Some
have boldly asserted that this is impossible, and have on
this ground challenged the precepts of Christianity. That
it is very difficult, we admit; but it is not impossible, for
it has been done. Not only did Jesus Christ do it, but
many thousands have imbibed his benignant spirit, and
experienced the divine luxury of doing the same, in some
humble measure. It implies self-denial, which is always
hard to practise; yet often a duty on which life itself
depends.
Heathen philosophers might pronounce it impossible,
and expunge it from their moral code; but we, who may
have the spirit and teachings of Christ to guide us, have
no apology for so doing. Without this grace from on high,
we might never aspire to this highest of moral virtues;
but with it, we should at least make the attempt.
Suppose, then, a man to be our bitter and avowed
enemy, and that too.when we have done him no harm.
He is wholly in fault, and we are entirely innocent. We
thus assume the strongest imaginable case. We certainly
cannot feel complacent towards his conduct; but he is
still a man, a fellow-being; unreasonable, perverse, criminal, but still our brother.  We should then separate the
conduct from the man, think of him as God made him,
and we may still find something to love. In the man,
apart from his conduct, there is something that should
engage the affection of every rational being. It is im
179
I 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
possible, we grant, to love him as we do a friend; but
there is a benevolent affection which we should not with hold, even from an enemy.
We are greatly aided in this duty, by considering how
Christ loved u8, even while we were "yet enemies."  He
had never done us any harm; we were entirely in fault;
and yet so great was his love for us, that he laid down his
life to save us. And despite of all our multiplied offences
against him, he still loves us with the tenderness of a
brother.
We owe a duty here to ourselves, as well as to our
enemy. By cherishing hatred and revenge, we injure our
own  character.   By cherishing a forgiving spirit, by
seeking to bring him to repentance, and to promote his
welfare, we nourish in our own hearts the purest and
noblest feelings; while, at the same time, we take the
most effectual means to convince him of his fault, to
disarm his enmity, to reform his conduct, and to make
him our friend.
And this is our duty. If we are utterly disinclined to
do it, except as we receive the proffered grace of Christianity, then we should accept that grace. Whether Christianity is proved to be from heaven or not, if she disposes
us to do what is right, we should accept the precious boon.
No man's conscience ever condemned him for accepting
that grace, which inclines him to love his enemies and to
seek their welfare. And we should add, no man who has
.done so, has ever failed to become thereby a better and a
happier man.
PHILANTHROPY.
Philanthropy, as the name imports, is the benevolent
affection embracing all mankind. In this sense, every
man is bound to be a philanthropist. Nor may his love
'180 
MORAL ACTION.
for the human race exhaust itself in mere sentiment. It
should be active and self-sacrificing, commanding our
earnest endeavors to relieve the sufferings and improve
the condition of our less favored fellow-beings.
Christianity is eminently a philanthropic system.
It seeks to render all men wise and happy. Every true
Christian is both in theory and in practice a philanthropist.
But as the powers of man are limited, and his first duties
are naturally to himself, his family, his neighborhood, and
his country, it may be only his good will and fervent
prayer, that he can bestow upon large portions of mankind.
It is not, however, a disposition of general good will
to men, attended with scattered and miscellaneous efforts
for their welfare, that gives to a man sufficient notoriety
to mark him as a philanthropist. The man to whom the
public award this name, concentrates his efforts upon
some great benevolent enterprise. To this he devotes his
talents and his substance.  iHe thus, like Hioward, or Wilberforce, makes his mark upon the world, and proves the
sincerity and earnestness of his benevolence. His philanthropy may have an eminently Christian type, like that
of the faithful missionary, devoting talents, property, and
life itself, to spreading the Gospel among the nations.
181 
CIIHAPTER II.
MORALLY WRONG AFFECTION.
WE have seen, in the previous chapter, that true love, or
the benevolent affection, is always morally right. We are
now to see that its opposite, hatred, or the malevolent affection, is always morally wrong. As the present writer is
constrained to take a somewhat different view upon this
subject from many others, and among them distinguished
classical authors, it is due both to the subject and to them
to examine it with care.
My opinion is that every malevolent affection has moral
quality, that it is of man and not of God, and is morally
wrong.   I do not believe that it exists in God; that it
existed in man when created in God's likeness; that it
existed in the heart of Jesus Christ; or that it ever ought
to exist in the heart of any human being.
VIEWS OF REID AND OTHERS.
We will here quote from only two or three of the more
distinguished books used in educational institutions and
regarded as standard authorities.  "Are there in the constitution of man," says Reid, "any affections that may be 
MORAL ACTION.
called malevolent? What are they? and what is their use
and end? To me there seem to be two, which we may
call by that name.  They are emulation and resentment.
These I take to be parts of the human constitution, given
us by our Maker for good ends; and, when properly
directed and regulated, of excellent use." *
Stewart adopts nearly the same view, classing emulation
among the desires. "It may be doubted," he says, "if
there be any principle of this kind (malevolent) implanted
by nature in the mind, excepting the principle of resentmveznt; the others being ingrafted on this stock by our
erroneous opinions of criminal habits."t Mlost writers
have taken a similar view; some of them giving a much
wider range to the malevolent affection.
The principle of emulation we shall consider under the
head of Des,ire. We are now to examine the principle of
resentment. The writers quoted above, and others, as we
shall see hereafter, have argued in favor of this as a constitutional principle in man, from the fact that brutes
manifest it.t: It is said to be their defence. And so also
they manifest other dispositions, which are proper and
useful in irrational creatures, but which in rational beings
must be condemned; for rational beings have other and
higher means of defence and protection.
Who would infer that because certain animals practise
a kind of instinctive deceit, and others get angry and fight
and kill, that man was made to do the same?  It is not
wrong in brutes to resent injuries, for this is their only
means of defence; but it by no means follows that it is
not wrong in man  to do so, who was made in the image
of his Maker.
* Works, vol. IV., p. 110.       t Active and Moral Powers, p. 86.
t See Reid's Works, vol. IV., p. 118. Also, Whewell's Elements, vol. L
p. 50.
183 
MORAL PHE[ILOSOPHY.
Adam Smith contends for the principle of resentment
in the following language: "A person becomes contemptible, who tamely sits still, and submits to insults,
without attempting either to repel or to revenge them.
We cannot enter into his indifference and insensibility.
We call his behavior mean-spiritedness, and are as really
provoked by it, as by the insolence of his adversary.
Even the mob are enraged to see any man submit patiently to affronts and ill usage. They desire to see this
insolence resented, and resented by the person who suffers
from it. They cry to him with fury to defend, or to
revenge himself.  If his indignation rises at last, they
heartily applaud, and sympathize with it. It enlivens
their own indignation against his enemy, whom they
rejoice to see him attack in turn, and they are as really
gratified by his revenge, provided it is not immoderate,
as if the injury had been done to themselves." *
There is some truth in the above remarks, but it is
presented in such a form and connection as to encourage,
in my opinion, feelings and conduct at variance with the
sound principles of morality. The remarks do indeed
express a very common fact, but an appeal to the desire,
sympathy, and gratified revenge, of "the mob," to settle
a grave and momentous question of moral right, is not in
very good keeping with the subject. Arguments from
this source would prove fatal to all moral truth and
duty.
To the believer in Christianity, any refutation of the
above sentiments would seem to be superfluous. They
harmonize very imperfectly with the life and teachings of
Him, " who, when he was reviled, reviled not again, when
he suffered, he threatened not, but committed himself to
* Theory of Moral Sentiment, p. 25.
184 
MORAL ACTION.
Him that judgeth righteously."  Jesus Christ never indulged the spirit of resentment, and expressly forbade it
in others. His language is too explicit to be mistaken.
"Love your enemies; do good to them which hate you;
bless them that curse you, and pray for them which despitefully use you. And unto him that smiteth thee on
the one cheek, offer also the other."
Every thing like that resentment which, it is said, "we
like to see," and which is claimed as a "purely constitutional principle," is absolutely condemned by the language, as it was also by the life, of Jesus Christ. The
consistent believer in Christianity is therefore compelled
to think that, however plausible the speculations of these
writers, there is yet some serious error in them.
It is with the view of detecting this error, if it exists,
that we proceed with our inquiry. We are bound, as
philosophers, to settle the question, not by an exclusive
appeal to the precepts of Christianity, whose authority
may be by some questioned, but upon its own merits. It
should not be forgotten, however, that every principle of
morality, as it is found to harmonize with Christianity,
not only adds new lustre to the evidence of Christianity
as a revelation from God, but receives from it greatly
augmented force and authority.
We may come at the merits of the question by putting it in two forms. Do we need any such principle
as resentment? And have we positive proof that such a
principle exists, as a part of our mental constitution? The
former question anticipates the latter; for if it should be
evident that we do not need the element in question, the
presumption would be that it was not originally implanted
in us. But this is only presumption, and each question
must be examined by itself.
185 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
RESENTMENT UNNECESSARY.
We must distinguish between resentment and selfdefence. The principle of self-defence is instinctive and
highly important. It is a moral duty to obey this instinct,
and defend ourselves from harm. But this we may do
without any malevolence towards the aggressor.
To seek to defend ourselves from harm, is one thing;
to seek, with malevolent intent, to injure him who has
harmed us, is quite another. The former is self-defence;
the latter is resentment. The former we believe to be
morally right; the latter, morally wrong.
If a man attacks our person or our character, we have
a right to do all that is necessary to defend ourselves from
injury. If the result is fatal to his life or reputation, the
fault is not ours. Itf we did right, we did not injure him
with a spirit of resentment, but of pure self-defence. We
only did what our safety and the common welfare demanded. No resentment, retaliation, or revenge, was in
our heart; on the contrary, it was in our heart to pity
and to pray for him. While seeking to protect ourselves,
we desired him no evil; but we wished him to see the
wrongfulness of his way, and to forsake it.
This is true self-defence. It is instinctive, moral, and
Christian. That is, in so doing, we are, in both a moral
and a Christian view, true to a primitive instinct of our
nature. But when we allow the spirit of malicious resentment to supervene, we are false to that instinct, and
charge to its account what is really a part of our moral
perverseness.
But ought not the guilty to be punished?  Perhaps so;
but the injured one is not ordinarily the proper person
to do it. Much less ought he to do it from a principle
186 
MORAL ACTION.
of resentment. As a man is a partial judge of his own
wrongs, civil government has taken the business of redressing them out of his hands, and placed it in the hands
of an impartial tribunal.
The divine government, also, to rebuke the fell spirit
of resentment, has placed it, for final decision, in the sole
charge of the Judge of all. "Avenge not yourselves, but
rather give place unto wrath; for it is written, Vengeance
is mine, I will repay, saith the Lord. Therefore, if thine
enemy hunger, feed him; if he thirst, give him drink."
We infer, therefore, that the principle of resentment is
not needed in our mental constitution; since all the purposes of self-defence, of punishment, and of the protection
of the public welfare, can be better secured by other
means.
RESENTMENT NOT ORIGINAL.
If we do not need this principle, the presumnption is
that the Creator has not implanted it. Still the point is
not to be decided a priori; it is a question of fact.  The
simple question is, on a careful analysis of the mental
constitution, do we find in it any form of the malevolent
element?  Any principle, whose obvious de-sign was to
lead us to desire and to attempt the injury of our,fellowbeings? This is the plain question.
It proves nothing, to say, with the authors above cited
and others, that brutes manifest the disposition to injure
their enemies; that many of our fellow-beings manifest
the same, and "we are pleased to see them do so;" all
this only proves that many rational beings are so false to
their noble nature as to act like irrational brutes, and
"we are Pleased" with such conduct. But who are the
" we?" Not all men, certainly; for there are not a few,
who regard such conduct in a very different light.
187 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
The question is not, what irrational brutes were made
to do, nor yet, what men actually do, but what we were
made to do.
INSTINCTIVE~ RESENTMENT. Bishop Butler has made a
distinction, which others have adopted, between what he
calls instinctive and deliberate resentment. But his
instinctive resentment, when examined, turns out to be
nothing more than the mere instinct of self-defence.
Sudden emergencies sometimes occur, in which we have
no time to deliberate; we must then act instinctively and
instantaneously. There is not necessarily any malicious
feeling in this, any more than there is in suddenly shutting the eyelids to keep out a mote. Whereas the wish
to injure another must necessarily be, to some extent,
intentional and deliberate.
" The final cause (design) of instinctive resentment,"
says Stewart, "was plainly to defend us against sudden
violence, when reason would come too late to our assistance, by rousing the powers both of mind and body to
instant and vigorous exertion. A number of our other instincts are perfectly analogous to this. Such, for example,
is the instinctive effort we make to recover ourselves when
we are in danger of losing our balance, and the instinctive
despatch with which we shut the eyelids when an object
is made to pass rapidly before the face. In general it
will be found, that, as nature has taken upon herself the
care of our preservation during the infancy of our reason,
so in every case in which our existence is threatened by
dangers, against which reason is unable to supply a remedy with sufficient promptitude, she continues this guardian care through the whole of life."*
Now this is precisely what we mean by the instinct
* Active and Moral Powers, p. 89.
188 
MORAL ACTION.
of self-preservation, or self-defence, which we shall con sider uinder its proper head. No man ever doubted the
reality and importance of this instinct.
DELIBERATE RESENTMENT. "The final cause (design)
of this species of resentment," continues the above author,
"is analogous to that of the other: to serve as a check on
those men whose violent or malignant passions might lead
them to disturb the happiness of their fellow-creatures."
But if the affection is deliberate, it is not instinctive,
and is hence of a moral nature. Deliberate resentment,
then, must be one of these two things; either deliberate
self-defence, not involving any malevolence, and therefore
morally right; or deliberate retaliation, involving malevolence, and therefore morally wrong.
The same writer adds: " In order to secure still more
effectually so very important an end, we are so formed
that the injustice offered to othAers, as well as to ourselves,
awakens our resentment against the aggressor, and prompts
us to take part in the redress of their grievances. In this
case, the emotion we feel is more properly denoted in our
language by the word indignation; but, as Butler has
remarked, our principle of action is in both cases fundamentally the same: an aversion, or displeasure at injustice
and cruelty, which interests us in the punishment of those
by whom they have been exhibited."
" Resentment, therefore, when restrained within due
bounds, seems to be rather a sentiment of hatred against
vice than an affection of ill-will against any of our fellowcreatures; and, on this account, I am somewhat doubtful,
notwithstanding the apology I have already made for
the title of this section, whether I have not followed
Dr. Reid too closely in characterizing resentment, considered as an original part of the constitution of man, by
the epithet of malevolent."  "After all, however, that I
189 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
have advanced in justification of this part of the human
constitution, I must acknowledge that there is no principle of action which requires more pains, even in the
best minds, to restrain it within the bounds of moderation." X
It will be observed that the above writer here virtually
concedes nearly all that we have claimed. The principle
for which he contends, instead of implying any ill will or
malevolence, which can be properly exercised only against
beings, is merely "a sentiment of hatred (aversion) against
vice;" which is a virtuous moral feeling. To be heartily
opposed to all wrong-doing, and conscientiously to throw
our entire sympathy in favor of law and of the injured, is
more than a mere instinctive impulse; it is a high moral
virtue.
That there is, in fact, much of retaliation, with its
kindred affections, in the human character, is too evident;
but that such feelings are original elements of the mental
constitution, has never been shown. On the contrary,
they can be fully accounted for in other ways. They are
a part of our moral perverseness, condemned by the law
of God and by every enlightened conscience.
Malevolence of every kind is always attended with
pain; a circumstance, doubtless, intended to guard us
against it; as the smart of a wound was designed to warn
us against cutting our own flesh.
After descanting upon the pure happiness arising from
love, Adam Smith remarks, "It is quite otherwise with
hatred and resentment. Too violent a propensity to these
detestable passions, renders a person the object of universal dread and abhorrence, who, like a wild beast, ought,
we think, to be hunted out of all civil society." t
* Active and Moral Powers, p. 90.
190
t Theory of Moral Sentiments. 
MORAL ACTION.
We could not desire stronger language than this
against malevolent affections. It is no part of our task
to attempt to reconcile it with what the same writer has
said in other places; it is sufficient to ask, who does not
see the absurdity of speaking of " too violent a propensity
to detestab7lepassions? " If these passions are "detestable,"
as they truly are, there should be no propensity to them.
Any propensity to a detestable passion is morally wrong.
Hience the Creator, as a pure and good being, could not
have implanted it in our constitution. Its origin must be
human, not divine.
With this view the teachings of Christianity perfectly
accord. They condemn every degree and form of malevolent affection. But are we to suppose that the Creator
has implanted a principle in our nature, which may never
be called into action? This cannot be admitted. We
must then conclude, that the malevolent principle is no
part of our mental constitution. We have an instinct, or
purely natural propensity, to love; but none, to hate.
To love, is consonant with pure nature, and is therefore
morally right; to hate, is against that nature, and is therefore morally wrong.
It is said that David hated the wicked. Even if he
did, it does not follow that we ought to do so. Hiis conduct is not in all cases an example for us. His language
is indeed very strong.   "Do not I hate them, O Lord,
that hate thee, and am not I grieved with those that rise
up against thee?  I hate them with perfect hatred; I
count them mine enemies." But it seems evident, on
comparing these and similar expressions with his general
teachings and life, that the hatred of which he speaks,
did not include the malevolent affection; but was merely
an earnest exercise of the feeling of sympathy with his
God, in defending the cause of righteousness. That his
191 
]MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
pious zeal was ever adulterated with a mixture of malevolence, we have no proof; but even if it was, this does not
make it right.
Those sacred scriptures which speak of God as hating
the wicked, as being angry with them, &c., are not to be
understood as implying any malevolent affection. They
are bold expressions indicating his righteous abhorrence
of wicked conduct, and his inflexible purpose, as the Moral
Guardian of mankind, to sustain his laws. No student in
oriental literature can be at a loss how to understand them.
CONCLUDING- REMARKS.
We conclude, then, that the principle of malevolence
is no part of our mental constitution.   As it is always
right to love, so it is always wrong to hate. If this be so,
then the demand of pure morality is here in perfect harmony with that of Christianity. The law of morality requires us to love, and never to hate; and Christ has taught
us that love s the fuftlling of the law.  To fulfil the great
law of our being, then, it is only needful to love; no hating
whatever is needful.
Christianity does not teach us to love our friends and
hate our enemies. It does not inculcate "resentment,"
with the caution "to restrain it within due limits." It
takes entirely different ground. It commands us to love
all beings, at all times, and under all circumstances. No
provocation, however severe, can make it morally right
for one rational being to hate another.
What we have said of this particular form of malevolent feeling, is true of all its forms. They are all equally
condemned, both by the principles of pure morality and
the positive precepts of Christianity.   Envy, hatred,
revenge, &c., are all modifications of the malevolent
192 
MORAL AOTION.
affection; none of them belonged to man in innocence;
they are no part of his constitution; they pertain to him
only as a being fallen and perverse.
To save us from even an apology for personal resentmnent as a means of self-defence, the government of God,
and, by his authority, human government, take the punishment of our offenders out of our own hands; thus absolving us from the necessity, under which irrational brutes
exist, of retaliating our own wrongs. Our defence is placed
in the hands of a higher and an impartial tribunal. Thus,
knowing that if our cause is just our defence is ultimately
sure; that if an earthly tribunal fails to do us justice, a
higher tribunal will not fail to do it; while we abhor the
conduct of our guilty foe, we may still extend to him our
benevolent compassion, and seek his repentance and salvation. This only is true Christianity; and this only is
sound morality.
It is not to be disputed that this is a hard and unpopular doctrine. It is not the current doctrine of writers
upon this subject; not the doctrine generally taught in
the schools; and certainly not the doctrine upon which
most men practise. Teachers of morals have here too
often taken the wrong stand-point; they have deduced
principles and duties from what man ds, as a fallen being,
rather than from what he was, as created by God. They
have hence found it difficult to make their morality tally
with the revealed law of God and the plain teachings of
Christianity.
But the time is not to be despaired of, when a higher
and purer philosophy will prevail. Just in the degree
that men see the divine beauty, and feel the benign influence of Christianity, they will better understand themselves and their duties. By the regenerating grace of the
the gospel, which alone is adequate to the effect, the bit
9
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MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
ter root of hatred, in all its malignant forms, will be utterly destroyed. Its very remains, infected as they all are,
with the poison of the serpent's tooth, shall be cast forth
from the heart of man and eternally abandoned; while
love, which alone fuljils the law, the law of the soul's necessities, the law of conscience, and the law of God, shall
have the entire soul, to flourish there undisputed, unrivalled, and forever.
194 
CHAPTER III.
IMORALLY RIGHT DESIRE.
WHILE natural desire is purely constitutional, like the instinct of the brute, moral desire is a cherished principle
of action, such as enlightened conscience approves or condemns. In this chapter we are to consider those desires
which are morally right.
It will simplify our subject to include them in two
generic classes; those which relate to our own welfare,
and those which relate to the welfare of others.
DESIRES FOR OUR OWN WELFARE.
As these desires have their natural origin in self-love,
we must distinguish between this and selfishness.
Self-love is that principle in man which leads him to
seek what he judges to be for his good. It does not conflict with the interests of others. It is entirely consistent
with the desire for their welfare. It even blends with
that desire, and increases its strength and activity. Only
he who properly regards his own welfare, truly regards
that of others.
Selfjshness is a term of opfpostion.  It is the setting of 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
one's own interest against that of others. Thus the selfish
boy at play consults his own wishes, regardless of the
feelings of his companions; the selfish man in business
consults his own gains, regardless of the losses he may
bring upon others; the selfish politician consults his ambitious schemes, regardless of the public good. Hience
selfish desire isalways wrong.
Regard to our own welfare includes the desires of
moral worthiness, intellectual attainments, health and
vigor, and circumstantial advantages.
DESIRE OF MORAL WORTHINESS.-Perhaps no person is
so thoroughly depraved, as not to have some desire for
moral worthiness. Even if there were no other motive,
the value of a good character and the influence which it
confers, would naturally prompt him to desire it. Men
perpetrate immoralities, not because they desire to be immoral, but for some imagined pleasure, or advantage from
them.
Men steal, not for the sake of being thieves, but for
the property stolen. They lie, not for the sake of being
liars, but for the supposed advantage of the falsehood.
They intoxicate, not for the sake of being drunkards, but
for the pleasure of intoxication. In every such instance,
they would usually be glad to separate the two, and to
have the latter without the former. It is not until one
has reached the most desperate stage of depravity, that he
desires to be vicious for its own sake.
But men do desire moral worthiness for its own sake.
They desire not only to appear to be honest, just, temperate, pure, courageous, magnanimous, but actually to be
so. This is a morally right desire. In accordance with
the manifest design of our being, it must ever be approved
by an enlightened conscience.
The germ of this desire is natural, or at least rational.
196 
MORAL ACTION.
If men do not attain to moral worthiness, it is not because
they have not some desire, as rational beings, for such a
character, but because they have a stronger desire for the
pleasures of vice. They would be glad to have both, but
they cannot; hence there is a conflict of desires, in which
the evil prevails. Often does the vicious man sigh, in
the bitterness of his spirit, to see himself thus taking
leave of virtue and sinking into merciless and degrading
bondage.
But let him give to the desire of moral worth the ascendancy; let it be made to control every vicious inclination; and it becomes itself a moral excellence of high
order. Hie who turns a deaf ear to all allurements of
pleasure, gain, ambition, indolence, which conflict with
his desire for personal worthiness of character, is a noble
specimen of humanity.
This desire is an essential element of Christian character, but does not of itself constitute that character.  A man
may have it without being a Christian, but he cannot be
a Christian without it.  Christianity, heartily embraced,
elevates its aim and directs its efforts. When a man not
only cherishes the effectual desire to practise all the virtues
of morality, but also to devote them in supreme homage
to God, he is more than merely moral; he is also Christian.
Ever conscious of being far below his standard, his desire is continually reaching higher and higher. Hie aspires
to clearer and more enlarged views of truth and duty; to
greater purity of heart and consistency of life; to more
energy and constancy of purpose; to more patience and
perseverance in difficulties: to all the virtues which perfect and adorn renovated humanity. Such a man is embraced in the beatitude of Christ: " Blessed are they that
hunger and thirst after righteousness; for they sha7ll be
filled."
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MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
DESIRE OF INTELLECTUAL ATTAINMENTS.-The germ of
this desire, also, is found in our rational nature. The
principle of curiosity, or desire of knowledge, is natural
to all men. But along with this desire, the conscientious
man cherishes the feeling that he ought to cultivate his
intellect, and to make the most he can of the talents with
which he has been intrusted. Hie feels it to be as truly
his duty to elevate his intellectual as his moral nature.
This motive, like all other moral motives, operates as
a regulator of the natural desires.   Under its guidance,
the student at school or college does not merely gratify
his curiosity, by studying what he pleases, or by miscellaneous reading, as his fancy may suggest; but he gives
himself conscientiously to the task of mastering his lessons, with a view to the highest ultimate intellectual advantage.
It is well to feel the promptings of the constitutional desire for knowledge; as all do, more or less. Without this,
the duty of study would be as onerous a task as to eat
without appetite. It is well, in a higher sense, to have
this desire directed by a principle, which sacrifices present
gratification, if need be, for the sake of securing the best
mental discipline.
The student is bound to seek the highest mental culture in his power, and he can do this only upon principle.
The false notion frequently obtains among his companions,
that he is of course influenced by selfish ambition; and
so they shelter their indolence, or find an apology for
spending their time in light reading, by claiming for
themselves more honorable motives.  But as every student is morally bound to do his best in mental culture,
he who is striving to do so may be doing right, to say the
least, while they who neglect to do so, are certai;nly doing
wrong. If the former may be in fault, for not improving
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MORAL ACTION.
his talent from the best of motives, the latter are certainly
so, for keeping it " laid up in a napkin."
DESIE OF HEALTH AND VIGOR. —If a person may desire
moral worthiness and intellectual attainmnents as objects
in themselves good, he may for the same reason desire
health and vigor. The latter may be an inferior good;
still it is a real one, and as such may be rightly sought.
Indeed a man cannot secure his highest moral worthiness,
unless he properly regards his health; for to do this is
one of his moral duties.
There is also a law running through life and determining all results, that by aiming at the highest end we
secure all subordinate good in that direction. Thus a
conscientious regard to the highest moral worthiness,
moulding the character to its standard, induces that industry which tends to the highest culture; and these
united, so elevate and enlighten the mind, as to give it
wholesome dominion over the lower nature. They induce
those habits of temperance, prudence, and self-denial,
which promote general health and vigor.
DESIRE  OF CIRCUMsTANTIAL ADVANTAGES.-This  is a
cherished desire for all those possessions and relations
which contribute to our personal welfare. When is this
desire morally right? We lay down this rule: Whatever
real good a man can secure to himself without wrong to
others, it is right for him to desire.  "Men shall praise
thee, when thou doest well for thyself."
This is right, not only in the negative sense, as that
which a man may do, but in the positive sense, as that
which he ought to do. Every man ought to do well for
himself.  He is in circumstances of dependence.  He
needs clothing, house, food, books, instruction, and numerous other things essential to his comfort and welfare. It
is his duty to provide them for himself, as far as possible,
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MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
and not to impose his burden upon others.  "Every man
shall bear his own burden." He also needs social, friendly,
and domestic relations, and the various comforts and
attractions of home; some of which are too dear to be
purchased by money, but yet come of faithful endeavors
to do well for himself.
It hence becomes his duty, early in life, to set a value
upon these things, and to regard them practically as
objects of desire. It is a spurious morality, and a false
view of religion, that would affect to discard them. They
have their place; they were designed to be, under welldefined limits, objects of desire and wholesome stimulants of enterprise. Without the desire for them, man
becomes stupid, indolent, sottish, more brutish than human.
Let us instance the desire of property, so often perverted that it has been called "the root of all evil."  And
yet, when rightly controlled, a root also of all blessings.
It would be difficult to conceive of the wretched condition
of our race, if this desire had no existence.
When a man desires and accumulates property in a
way not injurious to others, he does well not only for
himself, but for them. He is a benefactor to his town,
to his country, to mankind. Hle is adding to the general
stock of human comfort. A wealthy man, who obtains
his wealth honestly and uses it rightly, is a great blessing
to the community.
So long, therefore, as a man desires to obtain property
by means strictly honest, and with a view to the right
use of it, his desire is morally right, unless it is allowed to
displace the desire of things more important. It is, then,
not so much the presence of this desire, as the absence of
another, for which the man is in fault.
There are things more to be desired than wealth. An
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MORAL ACTION.
upright character, a cultivated mind, good health, an
amiable temper, a peaceful and contented spirit, and,
above all, a saving interest in religion, are of immeasurably more value; and he who allows the desire of wealth
to supplant a due regard to these, ceases to "do well for
himself."
Precisely the same rule applies to the desire of office,
of power, of rank, of title, of domestic connections, and of
all the circumstantial possessions or relations, which may
contribute to one's advantage. Some men desire one or
more of these before wealth; others give to wealth the
preference. It is well for society that this diversity of
desires exists. If all men rushed in one direction, they
would crowd and jostle each other; none could be accommodated. But as their desires diverge and scatter in
various directions, there is room for all to act, and motive
and reward for all their activity. Thus society, in its
endless callings, may move harmoniously on; and every
man, in doing well for himself, may do well for his neighbor also.
DESIRE FOR THE WELFARE OF OTHERS.
A desire for the welfare of others is the benevolent
element of love. It may exist towards those for whom
we have little complacency. It may for this reason be
the more benevolent. To persist in seeking the welfare
of those who do us injury, or whose conduct we cannot
approve, evinces more benevolence than to do the same
for those whom we complacently love. To do good to our
enemies, is more benevolent than to do good to our
friends.
The law of morality demands that we desire the welfare of all men. That we ought to desire the welfare of
our friends, and indeed of all who have never injured us,
9*
201 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
has seldom been questioned. But that we are bound to
desire the welfare of our enenies, is a position which men
have been slow to admit. The philosophies of pagan
antiquity did not admit it; and even the writings of the
Old Testament are, perhaps, somewhat ambiguous upon
this subject.
It was left for Christianity clearly and boldly to assert
the duty of doing good to our enemies. "Love your
enemies, bless them that curse you; do good to them that
hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you
and persecute you; that ye may be the children of your
Father which is in heaven; for he maketh his sun to rise
on the evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just
and on the unjust."
Infidel writers have scouted this precept. They have
assailed it with jest and ridicule, pronouncing it impossible
for one to love his enemies; or, with any other than hypocritical pretension, to do good to those that hate him.
This is bold assertion, often uttered in high places as well
as low, and too generally sustained by human conduct.
Let us calmly consider it.
The sacred writers often use the term love, as Christ
here does, to indicate benevolent desire for their welfare.
When he says, " Love your enemies," he means that we
should desire and seek their good. This is evident from
his own explanation. " Bless them that curse you; do
good to them that hate you.
It is impossible for an upright being to have complacency towards wrong conduct, or to feel the same glow of
genial affection towards an enemy as towards a friend.
Jesus Christ did not. But if we cannot love a bad man
as we do a good man, and if we cannot love an enemy as
we do a friend, we may still love him as a fellow-being,
and may sincerely desire and seek his welfare. So did
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MORAL ACTION.
Jesus Christ. And many others, imbibing his spirit, have
done the same.
In seasons of calmn reflection, when malevolent passion
is at rest, a good man will reason thus: " It is true that
my enemy has injured me, and a selfish desire would
prompt me to injure him in return. But ought I to indulge such a desire?  iHe is related to others, who must
also suffer by his injury, but who are innocent of any
offence against me. Is it just in me to make then suffer,
for what he has done?   Moreover, of what advantage
could his injury be to me?  It could only nourish a selfish and revengeful feeling. If I seek his harm, his prosperity will give me only pain, while his injury will only
feed a passion which I ought not to indulge. Let me then
seek his welfare, that so I' be not overcome of evil, but
overcome evil with good.'"
Such reasoning his conscience will surely approve.
iHe will feel that he ought to yield to it; he will feel condemned, if he does not. Hiis conscience will never rebuke him, but will for ever commend him, for seeking
the welfare of even his guiltiest foes. It may be hard to
do it-a struggle of conscience against urgent wrong desire; but if he succeeds to "crucify the old man," his reward will be in proportion to his victory. Every enlightened conscience accords the declaration of Christ, that
thus loving our enemies and doing good to them that injure us, is a grace which makes us emphatically worthy
to be called the children of our Father who is in heaven.
But it may be said, that if our enemy has done wrong,
he ought to be punished. Then let the law punish him.
Perhaps that is the best thing that can -be done for him.
It may bring him to his senses, and make him a reasonable and a better man. It is with this view that God
chastises. Let the chastisement be just, let it proceed
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MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
from a regard to the public good and a reasonable selfdefence, let it at the same time never lose sight of the
ultimate good of the offender, and it is morally right.
If the benevolent desire exists only in that feeble and
equivocal state, in which it makes its subject barely willing to confer favors, provided no sacrifice is demanded,
it is hardly to be commended. But when it is that positive and operative principle, which leads to the sacrifice
of ease, property, friendship, and, if need be, of life itself, it becomes the sublimest of virtues.
And even if it is a    misguided benevolence, unless tempered with fanaticism, it is a noble virtue of heart still.
It sometimes indicates a more intense benevolence, to persevere, with an amiable temper, in a course of self-sacrifice which the judgment of those around us condemns,
than to do the same, sustained by their approval.
It is well for mankind that their desires of doing good,
as well as of obtaining it, move in various directions.
Every part of the field of benevolence is thus supplied
with laborers, instead of all men being crowded into the
same portion.   Early association, education, or the influence of example, may conspire with original temperament, to turn one man's particular attention to the cause
of temperance; another's to the relief of the poor; another's
to the wants of the sailor; another's to moral reform;
another's to the cause of the slave; another's to the welfare of prisoners; another's to the endowment of institutions of learning; another's to the spread of Christianity.
When a man fixes his desire on any one object, to the
exclusion of all others, or practically disregards all interests
not directly connected with his favorite object, he is called
a man of one idea. His desire may be pure; but as his
views are limited, his judgment is partial.
Benevolent desire does not of itself constitute Chris
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MORAL ACTION.
tian character. Indeed cases may exist, in which a misguided desire to do good may conflict with the express
commands of Christ. But when it is guided and animated
by a supreme regard to the will of God, it shines as one
of the brightest stars in the constellation of Christian
graces. In illustration of this, John Howard, laboring in
the dungeons of civilized Europe, and Henry Martyn, laboring in the darker dungeons of pagan Asia, are brilliant examples.
205 
CHAPTER IV.
MORALLY WRONG DESIRE.
SucEa desires as are condemned by the united voice of
mankind need no comment. It is only those on which
questions have been raised, that we are to examine.
These are the desires of retaliation, covetousness, pleasure,
and emulation.
THE DESIRE OF RETALIATION.-The desire to retaliate
and revenge our wrongs, has been partially considered in
the previous chapter; as the spirit of retaliation is a compound of malevolent affection and malevolent desire.
Some have considered the desire to retaliate constitutional;
while others, especially some Greek and Roman moralists,
have even exalted it to the rank of a moral virtue. Thus
Cicero says, in his De Officiis, "It is equally base to be
excelled by a friend in returning favors, and by an enemy
in retaliating wrongs."
Retaliation is a perversion of the principle of selfdefence. The instinctive desire of life, happiness, esteem,
possession, &c., naturally prompts one to defend himself,
whenever these interests are invaded. But brutes, in
self-defence, resort to retaliation and revenge; and sometimes men, more brutish than human, do the same. 
MORAL ACTION.
Self-defence is not only natural, but it is a duty. Every
man is bound to be firm, courageous, resolute, in protecting the blessings which heaven has given him. They are
his; he is their natural guardian; and he ought to take
due care of them. The doctrine of non-resistance is the
opposite to that of retaliation; and, like most other extremes, is unnatural and chimerical. To act upon it, is to
expose one's self and all committed to his guardianship to
every furious passion of lust, envy, or covetousness, which
may come in his way. He ought to consider that he is
not in a world of harmless beings, however harmless he
may be, and that the duty is hence laid upon him to
" beware of men."
But here we are asked, did not Christ teach, " Unto
him that smiteth thee on the one cheek, offer also the
other; and him that taketh away thy cloak, forbid not to
take thy coat also?"  But the connection in which he
said this makes it evident, that he intended only to caution
his disciples against the spirit of retaliation, and to enjoin
the discretion demanded by their critical circumstances.
This is evident from the fact that he warned them to
beware of men, that is, to be on guard against their evil
machinations; and that on one occasion he said, " He that
hath no sword, let him sell his garment and buy one."
To expect a miracle, or any special interposition of
Providence, to protect us, while we neglect the appropriate
means of defence, is neither morality nor religion, but
fanaticism. We should therefore clearly distinguish selfdefence from retaliation. The former seeks protection;
the latter seeks revenge. The former would only save
ourselves and ours from harm; the latter would inflict harm
upon others. A hunane and upright man aims to protect
himself and his, with as little harm as possible to others,
and never with a feeling of revenge.
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MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
Even if there were no other reason why we should not
avenge ourselves, a very conclusive one is the fact that
we are partial and passionate judges of our own wrongs,
and are therefore disqualified to avenge them justly. To
attempt it, is to challenge the prerogative of God.
What is thus condemned by morality, is also con demned by the most unequivocal teachings of Christianity.
"Recompense to no man evil for evil.  Avenge not yourselves, but rather give place unto wrath; for it is written,
Vengeance is mine, I will repay, saith the Lord. Therefore, if thine enemy hunger, feed him; if he thirst, give
him drink; for in so doing thou shalt heap coals of fire
on his head. Be not overcome of evil, but overcome evil
with good."
Tm  DESIRE TERMED CovEToUSNEss.-The desire which
we  denominate covet0ousness is universally  reprobated.
Both pagan and Christian moralists have ever agreed in
denouncing it as a detestable vice. We do not therefore
need to spend time in proving it to be so.  Our object is
rather to ascertain precisely what it is. We wish to distinguish it clearly from desires that are lawful and rigAt,
with which it is often in a measure confounded. Such
are desires for education and other personal accomplishments, for honorable connections, for elevated society, for
rank and office, for reputation and influence, for health
and beauty. Of the same class are desires for houses,
lands, equipage, furniture, dress, and, in general, every
species of property.  All these things are desirable.
Now if these things are worthy to be desired, there
must be such a thing as right desire for them. There is
also its opposite, wrong desire for them; and it is this
which we are now to examine. The question is, when is
desire for these things covetous? It is so, when it would
appropriate what belongs to others; when it is excessive;
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MORAL ACTION.
when it regards the means as an end; and when it contemplates bad ends.
1. The desire is covetous when it would appropriate
anotier's.  A cherished wish to appropriate to one's self
what belongs to a fellow-being, is selfish and unjust. It is
a desire in opposition to another's welfare, and a disposition to deprive him of his own. Allowed to rule the
spirit, it makes a man virtually a thief and a robber.
Indeed there is scarcely a crime into which, when intensely excited, it has not actually plunged its victims.
Frauds, thefts, murders, arsons, have come of it.
But the mischief done to the hearts of those in which
it dwells, is greater than that done to society.  In most
cases it is restrained by law and public opinion, so as
only to prey in secret upon its unhappy victim. It then
makes desperate war on conscience, becomes prolific
of other evil desires, and, if long and freely indulged,
proves fatal to peace and to all virtue.
2. This desire is covetous whien it s excessive. The
desire of worthy things may become unduly strong, and
thus subvert other and more important principles. The
rule is, never to allow it to supersede a regard to the
highest moral excellence. So long as one practically
values moral purity before all these things, his desire for
them is in due subjection. A faithful regard to the admonitions of enlightened conscience, will not fail to guide
him aright.
But let the desire supersede this regard, and it becomes
highly pernicious.  It darkens the understanding, warps
the judgment, narrows the soul, and endangers every
virtuous feeling. It becomes more dangerous when di rected to some things than when directed to others, but in
every case it is evil.  Even the desire for intellectual
attainments, which is perhaps as little liable as any to be
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MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
excessive, may be allowed so to subvert the higher regard
due to moral worthiness, as to prove fatal to the brightest
hopes. Its victim may be deluded into the most pernicious sophistries, and be left to fall into the gloom of even
atheism itself. The exaltation of the intellect, without the
heart, never lifts the soul to God.
The desire of beauty, in itself innocent, may be allowed
to turn one's attention so much to personal appearance as
to induce light-mindedness. The desire of esteem, may
lead to vanity.  The desire of rank and offce, may become
a burning ambition. The desire of equ4page, furniture,
dress, servants, dgplay, may obtain such mastery, as to
turn all noble thoughts and benevolent aims out of the
mind.
3. The desire is covetous when it regards the means as
an end.  Most of these things have no intrinsic worth, as
personal excellence has; they are valuable only for the
purposes they serve. Thus rank and office, dress and
furniture, have no value, except as they afford us means
of personal improvement and comfort, and of conferring
benefits upon others. Hence when one loses sight of their
,use, and desires them for their own sake, he is covetous
and vain.
We have some consideration for the man who desires
money, even excessively, in view of the advantage it
affords; but when he comes to desire it for its own sake,
we cannot help regarding him as a contemptible miser.
There are such men.   In their absorbing pursuit of the
means, they lose sight of the end, and finally sacrifice
ease, comfort, domestic enjoyment, health, usefulness,
character, and even life itself, to the mere purpose of
hoarding.
4. The desire is covetous whren t has respects to bad
ends. The covetous desire assumes perhaps its most ma
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MORAL ACTION.
lignant type, when it seeks these things with deliberate
reference to bad purposes. Here the objective motive
determines the character of the subjective.
Under the restrictions above given, to desire property,
for the benefits which it affords to its possessor, and
enables him to confer upon others; to desire education,
for its'intrinsic value and for the sake of being useful; to
desire dress and furniture, for the sake of maintaining an
appearance suitable to one's position; to desire books,
journeying, recreation, with a view to the true object of
the highest culture; is morally right.
But to desire property, as a means to indulge the lusts
of sensuality; to desire office and power, in order to lord
it over others; to desire personal beauty and accomplishments, to gratify vanity; to desire fine houses, dress, furniture, equipage, to challenge the homage and provoke
the envy of neighbors; is criminal and base.
THE DESIRE OF PLEASURiE.-The desire of pleasure is
innate, and is hence unlawful only when misdirected.
That the pleasures of morality and religion may always be
sought, will not be denied.  The question is, Are there
other pleasures, of an inferior kind, which we may rightly
desire; and, if there are such, how may we distinguish
them?
That there are such, is evident both from the wants of
our nature and the provisions made for them. We were
not constituted to depend mnerely upon the pleasures of
moral worthiness and a good conscience. There must be
pleasures superadded to these, or most men would be too
miserable to become morally better.
And even the Christian, who has drunk most deeply
into the pure pleasures of religion, must often fall back
upon those which the world proffers; or he inclines to
become ascetic and unamiable. We cannot be angels
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MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
here. We are human beings, after all that morality and
religion can make us. There are pleasures adapted to our
lower natures; and he who would so divest himself of humanity as not to need them, would be neither a man nor
an angel.
The pleasures to which we refer are those only which
interfere with no duty, and are favorable to health, cheerfulness, mental growth, long life, and usefulness. They
are suited to the various periods of life, from childhood to
the grave. They are the pleasures of innocent sports and
amusements; of rational and refined social intercourse;
of muscular activityvand mental diversion; of journeying
and witnessing new objects; of contemplating the beautiful and sublime in nature and art; of learning and communicating the current news; of reading and music; in
short, of all those agreeable recreations, which tend to
make us cheerful and happy.
But no sooner do men transgress the above limits, than
they enter upon forbidden ground. Hience morality condemns the desire of the sensualist, the rake, the tippler, the
glutton, the libertine; of him who seeks such amusements
as cock-fighting, gambling, attending impure exhibitions,
and reading vicious novels; of those who covet the pleasures of pride and vanity; and even of those who pursue
pleasures innocent in themselves, to the neglect or detriment of duty.
After all, perhaps no question in philosophy is left in
more uncertainty, than that which respects the precise
limtt of lawful and unlawful indulgencies. Hence good
men, both moralists and Christians, differ as to what pleasures are strictly innocent. This uncertainty is a part of
our discipline. If all the forbidden and allowed pleasures
were so exactly specified as to admit of no question, to
say nothing of the monstrous book necessary to record
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MORAL ACTION.
them, our discipline would become more mechanical than
moral.
Scarcely any disposition is more unamiable than that
which is ever looking with jealous eye upon the pleasures
of others. If we see our fellow-beings pursuing pleasures
manifestly vicious, we should do what we lawfully can to
restrain them. If they indulge in amusements which we
disapprove, but which they judge to be right, unless we
can convert them to our views, or they can convert us to
theirs, we should amicably agree to differ. To be severe
towards our own pleasures, and liberal towards those of
others, is a virtue of no mean value.
THE DESIRE TERMED EMULATION.-The term emulation
is susceptible of two meanings. It may indicate an aspiration to make the highest absolute attainment.   In this
sense, it is not a term of opposition.   It indicates a person's desire to make the most of his talents and opportunities. He may wish to do this himself, and with equal
sincerity may desire that all others should do the same.
This is not a mere constitutional desire.  It is obedience
to a duty.
But this is not the sense in which those philosophers
use the term, to whose views we object. They indicate
by it the desire of rivalry, and have claimed that this desire is a part of our original nature.
As this is a very important point, and we are constrained to differ upon it from eminent authorities, let us
examine it with care.
Emulation," says Butler, "is merely the desire of
superiority over other8, with whom we compare ourselves.
To desire the attainment of this superiority by the particllar means of others being brought down below our
own level, is the distinct notion of envy. From whence
it is easy to see, that the real end which the natural pas
213 
MORAL PHILOSOPHIY.
sion, emulation, and which the unlawful one, envy, aims
at, is exactly the same; and, consequently, that to do
mischief is not the end of envy, but merely the means it
makes use of to attain its end." X
"By emulation," says Reid, "I mean a desire of superiority to our rivals in any pursuit, accompanied with
an uneasi?ness at beings 8urpassed. Hiuman life has justly
been compared to a race. The prize is superiority in one
kind or another. But the species or forms, if I may use
the expression, of superiority among men, are infinitely
diversified.  Emulation has a manifest tendency to improvement. Without it, life would stagnate, and the discoveries of art and genius would be at a stand. This principle produces a constant fermentation in society, by which,
though dregs may be produced, the better part is exalted
and purified to a perfection which it could not otherwise
attain."
" He who runs a race feels uneasiness at seeing another
outstrip him.  This is uncorrupted nature, and the work
of God within him.   But this uneasiness may produce
either of two very different effects.  It may incite him
to make more vigorous exertions, and to strain every
nerve to get before his rival.  Tis is fair and honest emulation. This is the effect it is intended to produce. But
if he has not fairness and candor of heart, he will look
with an evil eye on his competitor, and will endeavor to
trip him, or to throw a stumbling-block in his way. This
is pure envy, the most malignant passion that can lodge
in the human heart; which devours, as its natural food,
the fame and the happiness of those who are most deserving of our esteem." t
I have italicised the lines which most distinctly in
* Sermon I. on Human Nature.
214
t VoL IV., p. 113., 
MORAL ACTIOn.
dicate the meaning attached to emulation, and have quoted
the entire passage, to show the reasoning and explanations
of the distinguished authors respecting it.  It is hence
clear that the emulation which they advocate, as a native
and innocent principle, is the desire which parties feel,
struggling as reivals in the same pursuit to excel each other.
More recent writers have adopted the same view, apparently without pausing to question its soundness. Thus
Whewell says, "The desire of superiority may be placed
among the elementary desires; since it is seen to exist
as an instinct in many of the bolder animals, manifesting
itself in the exertions which they make in their conflicts
with one another." *
The above distinction between emulation and envy is
obvious, but not to the purpose. Envy is a repining at
another's prosperity.   It may be accompanied with an
effort to depreciate him, or it may not. Envy often leads to
slander, and to putting a "stumbling-block" in the rival's
way, but it may truly exist in the mind without making
any such demonstration.
Envy has really nothing more to do with the reaes
of getting above a rival, or of getting the rival down, than
emulation has. Emulation desires to excel a rival; envy
repines at not succeeding. Envy is very apt, indeed, to
vent itself in ill-natured remarks and unfair actions, in
order to put the rival down, but it may decidedly exist in
the heart without doing any such thing.
As all agree to denounce envy, our only inquiry respects
emulation, as here explained.  The question is, whether
it is a principle implanted by the Creator, or whether it
has a moral quality, not to be approved. Observe that
this is no part of the desire of power and influence over
* Elements of Morality, Vol. I. p. 50.
215 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
our fellow-beings, with a view of being useful to them; it
is entirely another thing. Its direct and commanding
object is superriorty over rivals.  To this single idea of it
our minds must be strictly confined; as this is the precise
idea of those to whose views we are compelled to object.
The argument that emulation is to " be placed among
the elementary desires, since it exists as an instinct in
many of the bolder animals," proves quite too much, if it
proves any thing. Brute instincts, especially in the bolder
and more ferocious animals, lead to many dispositions and
actions which must be condemned in man. They instinctively contend, quarrel, and kill each other. They exhibit
all the retaliating and revengeful passions.
In the absence of a rational and moral nature, this is
all their defence. As they have no other means of selfprotection, we only call them unamiable or ugly, even
when they manifest dispositions for which a rational being
would deserve the gallows. Whatever they may do, they
do nothing morally wrong, for the plain reason that they
cannot. All their actions are within the sphere of nature.
We have another serious difficulty with the above
views. Can a man desire to hold the rank of superiority
to his rival, without desiring his rival to hold the rank of
inferiority to himself? Does not the one imply the other?
But it is said, he may wish himself up, without wishing
his rival down. No. We are not now speaking of absolute eminence. The strife for that we admit to be noble.
That is emulation in the good sense, to which we have
referred, and which Paul commended. What we condemn
is the selfish spirit of rivalry.
But let us allow the best of the case.  Suppose the
man does not wish to keep his rival back; he only wishes
to excel him and get the prize.  His rival, however, outstrips him, and the prize is lost. From the nature of the
216 
MORAL ACTION.
case, he must feel unhappy at the result.  Precisely as
Reid says, "emulation is accompanied with uneasn,ess8 at
being surpassed."
Now what is this uneasiness? If it is envy, all agree
to condemn it. But why blame the unfortunate man for
what he could not prevent?  Hle did as well as he could;
and now, as conceded, he cannot avoid this unhappy
feeling. If it is mortification, or chagrin, at having failed;
this, too, is undeserved, when one has done his best. In
every view, the result to the loser is disastrous. It can
do him only injury, either to feel envious, or to feel mortified and vexed, for not succeeding, when conscious of
having done all in his power to succeed. It cannot incite
him to do better next time, for he has done his best already. It can only discourage him, enfeeble his spirit,
and sour his temper. Call not this a needful trial of moral
discipline. For moral discipline, such as God, and not
man provides, is exactly the reverse of this, both in its
nature and tendency.
And as to the winner; is it certain that the exultation
of triumph over his defeated rival], will make him any
wiser or better?  Will it adorn him more profusely with
the graces of modesty, meekness, benevolence, which all
admire as the brightest of human virtues; or will it
send him forth, with a more vigorous and self-sustained
energy, on the path to absolute and exalted eminence?
Who that struggles thus for a mere adventitious prize,
ever rises thereby much above the object of his grovelling
ambition?
EMULATION UNNECESssARY.-There are two conclusive
reasons why the spirit of rivalry is unnecessary, and these
are, of course, reasons for believing that the Creator did
not implant it.
1. We have impulses enough without it.-Consider the
10
217 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
seven primitive desires which we have enumerated, and
the direction in which they all urge; to these add the
force of conscience and regard to personal worthiness,
and, if Christianity is admitted, the high motives revealed
from heaven and constantly reflected by Providence; we
shall then no longer doubt that motives all but omnipotent
are pressing us to the highest possible attainments. We
no longer fear that "life would stagnate, and the discoveries of art and genius would be at a stand," but for the
fiery spirit of rivalry to "produce a constant fermentation
in society." There are enough less questionable motives
to keep life from stagnation, and to conduct art and genius
to glory.
2. In the struggle for absolute eminence there ds no
need of rivalry, for the prize is ample for all.-In the
struggle of emulation, " they which run in a race, run all,
but one receiveth the prize." This is the great difficulty
in all such contests. They are contests for compcarative
standing, and, of necessity, for few prizes. The unavoidable result is many failures, and with them repining,
jealousy, envy. It is idle to say such feelings ought not
to exist.  Until one "can go upon hot coals and his feet
not be burned," we must despair of an effectual divorce
between them and the spirit of rivalry.
Now, in place of rivalry, let the primitive desires of
knowledge, esteem, possession, power, combine with high
moral and Christian motive, to urge one to make the most
of his talents and opportunities. iHe desires the highest
possible attainments in virtue, knowledge, lawful possessions, art, power, influence; all that is truly for his welfare
as a rational being. If actuated by Christian principle,
he desires these attainments not only for himself and for the
happiness they afford, but that he may accomplish his mission in glorifying God and conferring blessings upon mankind.
218 
MORAL  ACTION.
There is here ample prizefor all.  One does not lose,
because another wins;  all may win, and be rewarded.
Nor is the reward of one man in the least diminished,
because another gains a higher.  On the contrary, every
acquisition, by whomsoever made, is a contribution to the
general honor and welfare.
In respect to all truly great and valuable attainments,
there is a community of interests. One professor in a
college loses nothing, because another professor reaches a
higher point than he; on the contrary, that higher attainment reflects a proportionate honor on the institution,
and is of advantage to all connected with it. It would be
as impolitic as it would be base, for one professor to desire
to keep the whole institution in obscurity, that his own
little light might appear the brighter.
One pupil in a school is not injured by being excelled
by others, provided there is no spirit of rivalry. Their
higher attaimnents exert a happy influence upon the
entire school, and upon himself personally as a member.
They all help to raise a higher standard, and to keep the
motives of true eminence in sight.
One merchant, or mechanic, or farmer, is not injured
by another's success, unless something unfair is done; on
the contrary, that success gives a spur to business and
helps all concerned in it.
If we take a religious view, one member of a Christian
community, or church, loses nothing because another
excels him in Christian knowledge and character; on the
contrary, those superior attainments, by the force of their
example, are of great assistance to him and to the entire
church. St. Paul in heaven loses nothing because Gabriel
is in advance of him. The splendors reflected from that
"tall archangel bright," may cheer the heart, enrich the
zeal, and quicken the steps, of the sainted apostle, on his
way to yet higher attainments.
219 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
It may be said, the above principle holds only in the
case of communities, where there is, of course, a common
interest. I reply, there is a community of interests in
respect to all beings. No being in the universe is isolated.
The community is smaller and the mutual interest is closer
in the family than in the town, in the school than in the
State, in the nation than in the world, in one particular
church than in the church at large; still, a community of
interests exists, more or less intimate, throughout the universe; so as to make the superior attainments of any one
being of more or less advantage to all.  If the personal
advantage diminishes as the circle enlarges, it is in proportion to the diminution of force from motives of rivalry;
so that the one is an offset to the other. If the attainments
of a pupil in New York are of small advantage to a pupil
in Pekin, equally small are the advantages to be realized
from motives of rivalry between them.
SOME MEN NOT ACTUATED BY EMULATION. There seems
to be conclusive proof, that the motive of rivalry is no
part of our "primitive and pure nature," in the fact that
some men have, through the influence of the Gospel, dispensed with it, and have afforded ample evidence of being
as entire and perfect men without it as with it. They have
not appeared to be maimed, or crippled, as though they
had lost a leg or an arm, or any portion of their mental
constitution.  They have perceived as clearly, reasoned
as soundly, struggled to do well as intensely and steadily,
loved as sincerely, and risen as rapidly, as those who act
from motives of rivalry; and, it is due to them to add,
that they have gnore,frequently succeeded, and their success
has been crowned with richer and more lasting honors.
There are men who aspire to all that is truly great and
good, who are single-eyed, far-reaching, industrious, earnest, to the extent of their ability, who have no fellowship
220 
MORAL ACTION.
with the motive of rivalry. Their aim is too AigA to be
affected by such a motive.  The question with them is not,
whether they are above or beneath others, but whether
they are doing the best they can for themselves and for
their fellow-beings, in the great battle of life. They do
not look upon others as rivals, but as co-workers; and if
others can accomplish what they cannot, they rejoice in
it. They are content to do their best; they are glad when
others do better.  Is not this more excellent than rivalry?
Such was our illustrious Washington. How would he
sink from his high eminence, in the estimation of mankind, if thought to have been actuated by the motive of
rivalry? Such was John Howard. Was it the spirit of
rivalry, that made his life great and his name immortal?
Such was Isaac Newton. Was it by the aid of rivalry,
that he soared among the stars, and made his home above
the highest of them?  The spirit of rivalry, earthly and
sensual, never carried a mortal half so high.
A  SINGLE PRIZE SUPPOSED.-It may be said, there are
instances in which only one object is set before two or
more aspirants, as in the case of an office, and that emulation is then unavoidable. Suppose, then, two prominent
candidates for the presidency of the United States. What
has each to do, but to be faithful to himself and to his
country, and thus render himself worthy of that office.
If already deemed worthy, let him not become otherwise
by indulging rivalry. So sure as he manifests that selfish
spirit, he will defeat his end, the common voice will condemn him.  But if he ought not to manifest it, he ought
not to cherish it. To make the point clear, let the candidates be equally qualified for the office in all respects,
save this, that one of them has a sincere regard to the
welfare of the nation, and the other is actuated by a spirit
of rivalry. The former is seeking the good of his country;
221 
IMORAL PHILOSOPlIy.
the latter is seeking his own good. Who can hesitate in
deciding which of the two is the right man for the office?
And why not?  Because we all see, when  a striking
case is presented and great interests are involved, that the
spirit of rivalry is base, mean, dangerous, compared with
that high, noble, benign principle, which ever ought to
guide us. But let us suppose the worst. The worthy
candidate is rejected; the ambitious aspirant is chosen.
Has the rejected man any occasion to regret his course?
None. Hle may say to his countrymen, as a greater did
before him, "Weep not for me, but for yourselves and
your children." He has done his duty. His destiny is
not staked upon the office; he is the same excellent man
without it that he would be with it; and he is pursuing a
course that will secure immortal honor and peace, when
the ephemeral triumphs of rivalry are all forgotten. But
if the right man is chosen, it is well both for him and for
the nation that he never allowed the spirit of rivalry to
enter his heart; and we need not stop to show, that it
would have been immeasurably better for the defeated
man to have done the same.
This looks well in theory, say some, but we are not
those noble and magnanimous beings which the case supposes, and which we must be, in order to feel and act thus.
Nor are we likely to become such, so long as that morality
is sanctioned and is inculcated in our schools, which maintains that the spirit of rivalry is  "God's work within us,"
and should be encouraged; which infers duty from what
man is, as a fallen being, rather that from what he was,
as originally created, and, with the grace of Christianity,
is8 bound to be.
So long as we take our lessons of duty from heathen
philosophers, and from " the bolder animals in their conflicts with one another," instead of Jesus Christ; so long
222 
MORAL ACTION.
as we are taught that but for the spirit of rivalry "life
would stagnate, and the discoveries of art and genius
would be at a stand; " so long as teachers and guardians,
through all our tender and formative years, inculcate,
stimulate, reward it; what ought we to expect, but that
we shall grow up and come forth into active life its miserable victims?
Well did one of the most distinguished advocates of
the spirit of rivalry say, "Dismal are its effects, when it
is not under the direction of reason and virtue. It has
often the most malignant influence on men's opinions, on
their affections, and on their actions."* But better yet,
had he said, that it should never be indulged at all; that
it should be utterly and for ever cast out of the soul, root
and branch, as an abominable and detestable thing. Then,
and not till then, does man know true peace. Then, his
eye is single, his countenance serene, his step steady and
firm. Then, he feels the inspiration of a new spirit.
Then, with a heart that embraces every man's welfare, an
object in view which no mortal can let or hinder, and a
hope as high as heaven, he begins to feel and to act as
becomes a rational and immortal being.
Do we then discard all exhibitions, shows, fairs, whose
object is the comparison of works of genius and industry?
By no means. Let these comparisons b)e made, and let
genius and industry receive suitable tokens of approval.
But how noble is the man who lays his works by the side
of those of his fellow-men, and, if he has been enabled to
do well, gratefully rejoices in it; and if others have done
well, or even better than he, rejoices in that also; com pared with the man who is actuated by the selfish spirit
of rivalry, rejoicing only in his own success, or realizing
* Reia's Works, vol. IV., p. 112.
223 
MIORAL PHILOSOPHY.
"uneasiness at being surpassed."  The one is the spirit
that has its eye upon a rival, and is pained at defeat, or
exultant at a petty triumph over him; the other spirit
contemplates the highest absolute excellence; itself as piring to it, and rejoicing to see others do the same. This
is the motive which true morality and Christianity incul cate, in the place of that whose effects are often so "dis mal and malignant."
The truly ingenuous person does not wish to receive
honors, unless conscious of deserving them. If he is a
noble youth who desires the highest academic honors, and
receives them without pride, no less noble is hlie who does
his best, and yet cordially awards those honors to his successful companion. As his aim was not for the mere honors, but for the substantial prize beyond them, he still
presses onward, with a heart as sound, unenvious, and
happy as ever, assured that whatever his companion may
have gained, he has himself thereby lost nothing.
When academic honors are regarded as objects of
rivalrous pursuit, as the end for which to strive, they divert pupils from the true aim, and thus frequently injure
their intellectual scarcely less than their moral character.
The best scholars need no such stimulus. Due regard to
their health more frequently makes it necessary to destain
them. While they who are slow to learn, but disposed to
do the best they can, can realize only harm from appeals
to the spirit of rivalry. A prize which they know they
cannot reach, is, of course, to them no motive to study;
and sometimes even serves to dishearten them.   They
need rather to be encouraged,, by being assured that the
real prize is for thtem, as truly as for the more gifted minds.
Their feelings are often as keen as those of persons favored
with the brightest intellect; and they are usually more
susceptible than they to sympathy and encouragement,
because conscious that they more need them.
224 
MORAL ACTION.
Hence the kind and gentle stimulus of patient explanation and assurance of ultimate success avail, where appeals to the spirit of rivalry are utterly impotent; and
they often eventually realize, even from those of little
early promise, the brightest ornaments and most distinguished benefactors of mankind.
10*
225 
CHAPTER V.
MORALLY RIGHT EMOTION.
MORAL action is usually attended with some emotion, which
partakes of the moral quality of the act. Thus, when a
man, from a sense of duty, chooses to practise self-denial,
or to bestow charity, or to encounter perils or hardships,
that choice is a good moral act, and the emotion which
prompts and attends it is the same morally with the act
itself.
Although simple volition is not emotion, nor emotion
volition, yet blending together for the same good or evil
end, they constitute the same moral act. While the constitutional or natural feelings and volitions are simple, the
moral are complex. Hence our only method of analyzing
them, is to class them according to the predominant or
charateristic element.  Thus, those acts in which the
emotional element is predominant, we term emotional, or
simply emotions. Those in which affection predominates,
we call afections; those in which desires predominate,
we call desires.
When emotion becomes intense, and predominates not
only over the other feelings but over reason itself, so that 
MORAL ACTION.
a man is controlled by this impulse, he is in a passion.
He is apparently all emotion; so to speak. His emotion
varies in intensity, according to his natural temperament,
to circumstances, and to the objects to which it is directed.
He may be in a passion of anger, a passion of love, or
a passion of ambition. The passion of anger is the most
violent, and is of course the soonest spent.   This is often
little else than mere emotion. The passion of love is less
violent and often deeper than that of anger, and is therefore more enduring. In this there is a larger infusion of
affection and desire. The passion of ambition is usually
deeper and stronger than either of the preceding, and is
of course more steady and persistent. Not like the furious
tornado, nor the capricious gale, but like the steady tradewind, it bears its subject firmly and continuously onward
to some distant port. Such was the ambition of Alexander, of Coesar, of Napoleon.
Their desire of power was not perhaps greater than
that of many unknown to fame; but, unlike theirs, it was
actuated by a more impassioned and protracted emotion.
It was the fire of an anbittious zeal, burning in their bones,
that made their desires and their wills so mighty and effective. All great orators, revolutionists, and reformers have
much of emotion.
CLASSIFICATION OF TIE MORAL EMOTIONS.
Let it be remembered, then, that those moral acts in
which emotion, even if it does not rise to a passion, is yet
predominant, are called moral emotions; thus taking their
name from their most characteristic clement.
These emotions are of two kinds, the morally right and
the morally wrong.
Of the former are the emotions of love, of pity, of for
227 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
giveness, of gratitude, of penitence, of humility, of confidence, of self-approbation, of hope.
Of the latter, corresponding mostly to the former, are
the emotions of hatred, of anger, of revenge, of envy, of
obstinacy, of pride, of jealousy, of remorse, and of despair.
In this chapter we are to examine the former class.
EMOTION OF LOVE.-Moral love includes, as we have
seen, cordial affection and corresponding emotion, together
with benevolent desire for its object.
In the love of an upright heart towards a good being,
all these elements combine; but as a good being cannot
contemplate what is morally wrong with complacency,
his love for a bad man is mostly that of benevolence.
Whereas, the love which a truly good and genial heart
feels towards all truly good beings, varying with their
peculiar qualities and their relations to him, is in the
highest degree complacent, and is enriched with an emotion of vivid delight in him. This is emotional moral love.
EMOTION OF PITY.-Emotions of pity and of compassion
are nearly the same, but the former has more respect to
condition; the latter, to character.  We pity the unfortunate, the suffering, the needy; we compassionate the erring and the fallen. Accompanied with benevolent desire and effort, these emotions have moral character.
If they are mere excitements of passive or immanent
feeling, in contemplation of the calamities of others; at
tended with no yearnings of heart towards them, and no
endeavors to do them good, they are not only destitute of
moral excellence, but they often render the heart colder
and more selfish than they found it. Such excitements
are often occasioned by the reading of novels, and by attending dramatic exhibitions. The subjects of them are
prone to flatter themselves that they possess refined benevolent sensibilities, just because they love to riot in the
228 
MORAL ACTION.
selfish luxury of excited imagination. Their hearts, the
meanwhile, are turning to marble.
But when these emotions lead us to seek the good of
their object, as in the case of the good Samaritan mentioned by Christ, and as illustrated in the whole course
of his own life, they possess a high order of excellence.
We ought all to cultivate them; for there are objects of
pity and compassion on every side.  Our Maker has set
us the example. It is because his compassions fail not,
that we are not consumed. And we are clearly taught,
that he who withholds pity and compassion from his suffering and erring brethren, should expect them to be withheld firom him in the day of his calamity.
EMOTION OF SYIPATiIY.-This is a fellow-feeling with
the sufferings and joys of others. We may pity those
with whom we have no fellow-feeling; but we sympathize with those only with whom we are on terms of
friendship.  We  in imagination assume their place, and
suffer and enjoy with them.
But our sympathies are mostly with the agjticted.  If
our fellow-beings are enjoying a state of ordinary prosperity, they do not  teed our sympathy.  They and we
pass along the journey of life together, without intermeddling with each other's affairs. In his Theory of Moral
Sentiments, Adam Smith says, " The word sympathy, in
its most proper and primitive signification, denotes our fellow-feeling with the suferings, not with the enjoyments of
others. What can be added to the happiness of the man
who is in health, who is out of debt, and has a clear conscience. This situation, however, may very well be called
the natural and ordinary state of mankind." The times
seem to have degenerated since he wrote.
We sympathize with indivviduals.  We hear of a national disaster with sadness; of the misfortunes of an in
229 
]MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
dividual, with sympathy. We hear of a battle, or of a
shipwreck, in which multitudes have perished, and we are
shocked, as though an earthquake had spoken. But it is
not until imagination has taken up the individual sufferers, and presented them to us in their personal calamities,
that our sympathy is moved. Hence the writer who
would excite our sympathy, does not deal in generals;
but pictures to our imagination cases of personal suffering. Lively and generous sympathy is an element of
character, having great beauty and excellence.
EMOTION OF FORGIVENESs.-This is the counterpart to
the emotion of revenge. The revengeful heart would render evil for evil; the forgiving heart would overcome
evil with good. This does not imply a want of sensibility
to the injury received, but a forgiving spirit, rising above
and controlling the wounded sensibility, and having the
offender's welfare for its object.
Forgiveness, then, is eminently a benevolent emotion.
To the selfish heart, revenge is sweet; to the benevolent
heart, forgiveness is sweeter.   He in whose heart the
emotion of forgiveness finds no delightful play, in a world
so replete as this with provocations, must be himself a
wretched sufferer, and must be an occasion of much suffering to others. Hence morality attaches great importance
to this virtue; and Jesus Christ has assigned to it a prominent place in his religion.  "Forgive, and ye shall beforgiven."
When a man of forgiving temper sees that justice is
cared for, he embraces the repenting offender with the
cordiality of a brother. He rejoices that it is not his to
punish, but to forgive. If ever he punishes, it is because
he must. He forgives, because it is his delight. Such is
the spirit of Jehovah; otherwise, we should all be destroyed.  "To err, is human; to forgive, divine."
230 
MORAL ACTION.
Forgiveness is magnanimous, and there can be no true
magnanimity without it. An unforgiving man may be
bold, brave, courageous, but magnanimous he cannot be.
Hle may be mighty, for a time; but he cannot be morally
great. He may tower in pride, but he is doomed to fall.
Both Alexander and Napoleon boasted that they never
forgave.  It is hoped that their doings were in this respect
better than their professions.  Hle who never forgives,
will never be forgiven!   "If ye forgive not men their
trespasses, neither will your  ffeavenly Father forgive
your8." *
EMOTION OF GRATITUDE.-A grateful emotion arises from
a sense of obligation for favors received, and is attended
with desire to make some suitable return.  But whatever
return the grateful person may make, it is not like paying
a debt. Gold may be too cheap to express his obligation.
Whatever return he may make, his emotion of gratitude
is as vivid as ever.  This is a cardinal virtue; essential
alike to individual and to national prosperity.
The combined indignation of both earth and heaven
will finally concentrate upon the head of him, who persists in requiting distinguished benefits with base ingratitude. The same is true of communities; of nations. We
read of ancient states and republics, which were shamefully ungrateful to their benefactors; and the same pens
which have recorded their guilt, have recorded also their
ruill.
The Saxon term for grateful is thankful; the term
employed in tht Scriptures. The want of thankfulness,
is by them indicated as marking a very deep and desperate
stage of depravity. Because men, when they knew God,
"glorified him not as God, neither were thankful," they
were abandoned to their crimes.
* Jesus Christ, Matt. 6: 14.
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MORAL PHIILOSOPHY.
EMOTION OF PENITENCE.-This emotion, like all others,
depends mostly for its definition upon synonims. To be
really known, it must be felt. It is an emotion of sincere
sorrow and contrition for having done wrong. It implies
a just conviction of wrong done, a cordial disapprobation
of it, together with a sincere desire and purpose to do so
no mlore.
It is not therefore, as is often supposed, a mere ebullition or excitement of feeling, in view of misconduct.
However intense and vivid, unless it tends to purify the
soul which it agitates, unless it turns the deep current of
its desires and purposes from evil to good, unless it renders its subject practically wiser and better, it has no
moral worth.
The truly penitential emotion is tender, serious, earnest; it subdues and sweetens the temper; it impresses
lasting lessons of humility, as it rolls over the spirit. It
renders its subject keen to discern and quick to feel the
distinction between right and wrong, and makes him direct his steps cautiously in the narrow path of moral rectitude.
EMOTION OF HUMILITY.-This is a gem of beauty, unsurpassed in the whole diadem of virtues. It is a grace
of great loveliness, peculiarly befitting beings like us.
For while we have nothing for which to be proud, we
have much for which to be humble.
This emotion is an appropriate feeling of self-abasement, in view of our ignorance, our errors, and our mnisdeeds. The truly humble man is disposed-to take a very
low place. He is meek and lowly in heart. At the same
time, he does not undervalue his gifts, exaggerate his
faults, nor compromise his dignity with his fellow-men.
Hle knows his position and his claims. Hle is humble, but
he is still a man; and the more a man for his humility.
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MORAL ACTION.
His humility comes of looking upward. Hie is more
humble than his neighbor, not because he has more reason
to be so, but because he has a higher standard and a juster
sense of his deficiencies. Thus, while pride comes of ignorance, humility comes of knowledge. Sir Isaac Niewton was one of the most illustrious of men, both in intellectual and moral greatness, walking as an angel among
the stars and reading their sublime lessons, but he was as
distinguished for his humility as for his knowledge.
"In this way we  are to account for that humility
which is so peculiarly a part of the Christian character,
as contrasted with the general pride which other systems
either recommend or allow. The Christian religion is,
indeed, as has been often sarcastically said by those who
revile it, the religion of the humble in heart; but it is the
religion of the humble, only because it presents to our
contemplation a higher excellence than was ever before
exhibited to man. The proud look down upon the earth,
and see nothing that creeps upon the earth more noble
than themselves.   The humble  look upward to their
God." *
ENMOTIOX OF CONFIDENCE.-Emotions of confidence, trust,
faith, are much the same, and morally the counterpart to
those of suspicion, jealousy, distrust. A man of moral
confidence is of a childlike spirit. His disposition is open,
frank, genial. His experience of the falsehoods and deceits practised by men, has not destroyed his faith in humanity, nor in the principles of morality, nor in the ultimate triumph of virtue; much less in the truth and promises of God.   In all these he still confides, with the
simplicity of childhood.
This confidence is characterized with an emotion of
I Brown's Phil., Vol. II., p. 121.
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MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
calm and steadfast repose.  A sublime virtue in itself, it
is also the basis of many others. Without it, " it is impossible to please God;" impossible to fight successfully the
great battle of life. It gives courage to encounter danger,
and fortitude to endure suffering, in the faithful discharge
of duty. It has ever animated the struggles of good men
in the cause of virtue and religion. It has supported martyrs at the stake.
Thus important to the cause of morality and religion,
in a general view, it is equally essential to the individual
relations of man to man. Without it, society could not
exist, even in its most limited form. It is the indispensable bond of union in the conjugal relation. Remove it,
and all domestic bliss, even the matrimonial covenant
itself, is at an end. And he who reposes with no genial
and confiding emotion upon his brother man; who contemplates all around him with a cold, calculating distrust;
virtually bids adieu to the charms of social life, and spends
his days in the gloom of a solitary cell.
EMOTION OF SELF-APPROBATION.-The  delightful emotion attending a good conscience may seem to be rather a
reward of. virtue than virtue itself. But the fact that it is
the exponent of a good conscience, and utters its sympathies with every right act, in the satisfaction it imparts,
proves that it is itself morally excellent. It is scarcely
less the duty than the privilege of the good man, to
cherish the pleasing emotion that arises in his soul in
consideration of having done right. This feeling was
divinely intended to nourish his good purposes and nerve
him to future duty. The joy of a good conscience is his
strength. With this, he can face the frowning world;
with this, enter the lion's den.
In vain, then, does the skeptic deride, and the ultramoralist disown, this grateful emotion. Consciousness is
234 
MORAL ACTION.
firmly and for ever against them. There is substantial
joy imparted by an approving conscience, and that joy is
itself an element of moral excellence. The man who could
derive no other satisfaction from having, under trying
circumstances, faithfully discharged his duty, than from
having merely obeyed the demands of appetite, would be
wanting in one of the most essential elements of a good character. What an evidence of the wisdom and goodness of
the Creator, that he has thus identified duty with happiness.
EMOTION OF HIOPE.-The animating feeling awakened
in the heart of a good man, in anticipation of benefits to
be secured to himself and to others by a course of faithful
service, is an emotion of hope. Hie prizes moral worthiness, it is true, for its own sake; but the ultimate reward
of good endeavor has also a value, which he was made to
anticipate with joy. Moses doubtless prized the excellence of self-sacrificing devotion to the welfare of mankind,
for its own sake; but he also " had respect to the recompense of reward."
The hope of securing some future benefit, to ourselves
or to others, as the reward of faithful endeavors, is an indispensable motive to all benevolent enterprise. Without
it, little would ever be done to elevate the character, or
improve the condition of mankind.
It was this that induced Howard to explore dungeons
and "take the gauge and dimensions of human misery;"
that nerved Washington to the long and arduous conflict
for the freedom of his country; that prompts the truehearted missionary to forsake home and kindred to extend
the blessings of Christianity to benighted nations. The
same it was, that made Moses willing to "suffer affliction
with the people of God;" and, to pass from these to an
example transcendently surpassing all others, it was this
that animated the heart of the author and finisher of our
235 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
faith; "who, for the joy that was set before him, endured
the cross, despising the shame."
The man who goes forth to sow with no cheering anticipation of a harvest, will sow sparingly and reap also
sparingly. For the same reason, the man who attempts
to go forth in the great conflict of this life, sustained by
no hope reaching to the life that is to come, is more to be
pitied than commended. What the heart does not joyfully anticipate, the hand cannot vigorously achieve.
Other things equal, those with whom the emotion of hope
is most active, are the most successful.  " We are saved
by hope."
VARIOUS UNCLASSIFIED EMOTIONS.
In addition to the above classes, there is a large variety
of emotions indicated by the general terms sorrow, grief,
sadness, &c., which may be purely natural or partly
moral. The spontaneous gush of sorrow, or outburst of
grief, or feeling of sadness, when death or disaster approach
us, is as natural as our breath. Not to be thus moved,
would be most unnatural. And it is no stinted measure
of emotions like these, that is allotted to humanity. This
is a world of disappointments and losses, and of groans and
tears. Every heart must heave with sorrow, every eye
must weep, every spirit must be weighed down with grief.
This might not have been so, were there no sin;
but it does not follow that the sorrow which sin has made
necessary, is itself wrong. It is wrong in the child to
need chastisement, but the painful feeling involved in the
chastisement, is unavoidable.  The moral wrong of remorse
is, that it is the feeling of a guilty conscience, which might
and should find peace in repentance. But no repentance
can bring back the lost child to the mother's arms, or the
lost husband to the widow's agonized bosom. She may
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MORAL ACTION.
find repose and consolation in the grace of God, but nature
must weep still.
Nor let her be severely judged, if she incline to nourish
her grief, and to shed unseen many sacred tears over the
grave of bereaved affection. It must be so. She is not
the true mother, or the true wife, if it be otherwise. Then
let those smitten with sorrow weep freely and unrebuked.
There is sacredness in their sorrow; the unfeeling stranger
shall not intermeddle with it; no cold philosophy shall
interpose its rebuke; but He who wept at the grave of
Lazarus, will mingle his tears with theirs.
The moral quality of all such sorrow, depends upon
the direction it takes. If it leads to murmuring, repining,
rebellion; if it thus removes the heart farther from God,
and hardens it against him; it is decidedly evil. But if
it leads to submission, trust, loyalty; if it thus brings the
soul nearer to God, and renders his love more precious;
it is decidedly good. The end of the chastisement is then
gained, and God's own hand will in due time wipe every
tear away.  " It is good for me that I have been afflicted,
that I might learn thy statutes."
That we may impart the right character to all our
emotions of grief and sorrow, we should ever look up from
them to our Heavenly Father and compassionate Saviour;
consider that he loves us still, although he chastises, and
chastises because he loves us; and never cease to remember
that, however much we may deserve and feel his rebuke,
" like as a fathter pitieth his ehildren, so the Lord pitieth
them that fear him; for he kuoweth our franme; he remembereth that we are dust."
237 
CHAPTER VI.
MORALLY WRONG EMOTION.
THE class of emotions now to be examined are the opposite to those of the preceding chapter. While those pertain to affections, desires, purposes, which are morally
right, these pertain to such as are morally wrong.
EIMOTION OF IIATRED.-AS moral love implies complacence towards its object with benevolent desire for his
welfare, so hatred implies aversion towards him, with malevolent desire for his injury.   From this perverse state
of heart arises the emotion, in question.   Sometimes it
mounts to a passion, at other times, it is not so much a
passion as an emotion of settled and deliberate hate.
Such a feeling, as we have shown in the chapter upon
malevolent affection, is never to be justified.  If men
would injure us or ours, we should defend ourselves by
bringing them to justice, but indulge no revengeful tenmper. Our emotion should be that of abhorrence of their
deeds, blended with benevolent compassion towards themselves. Such were the feelings of Jesus Christ towards
his enemies. Hle never manifested a malevolent emotion.
EMOTION OF ANGER.-This is a passionate emotion ex
0 
MORAL ACTION.
cited against those who we suppose have intentionally
injured us. It may be a mere instinctive emotion, having
only self-defence for its object. This is an impulse implanted in our nature for important ends. He who could
receive a wanton blow in the face, or hear himself reviled,
with no other emotion than he would feel towards an act
of courtesy, must be something other than a man.
Nor is it any part of duty to repress the emotion,
which simply prompts to self-defence. "Be ye angry,
and sin not." But when the emotion springs from a malevolent desire to injure its object, it is never innocent.
It is a murderous fiend.   "He that hateth his brother, is
a mun(derer."
The vice of malicious anger is one of small and selfish
minds.  He who indulges it, is usually a person of narrow views, fiery spirit, and mean ambition.  Restive and
impetuous, he would rush madly upon his victim, to deal
out to him the retribution which rightful authority has
placed in better hands.
Retribution should never be inflicted by a person in
anger.  It is next to impossible for an angry person to
inflict punishment, without doing something to be subsequently regretted.  The passionate man is a dangerous
citizen. He is a foe to law and to mankind, but especially
to his own household and to himself.
EMOTION OF REVENGE.-This emotion is of a more malignant and desperate type than that of anger, being more calculating and protracted. The angry man is soon over the
passion; the revengeful man, never. The motive of revenge
is the mere gratification of a malicious temper. It contemplates the welfare of neither party; for it often prompts
one to inflict evil upon another, when he knows that he
thereby inflicts evil upon himself.
It makes its subject more infernal than human.  It is
239 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
a furor, urging him in defiance of all law and equity to
inflict injury upon his fellow-being. Reputation, property,
life itself, are all in jeopardy by his presence. Falsehood,
slander, arson, murder, are all in his service.
In savage tribes, where there is little law and governinent, the revengeful man is the most terrible and destructive of all possible foes. No wild beast, no raging pestilence, is half so dreadful; for his fury is guided and intensified by a human intellect, which renders it surer and
more effective. Hence civil governments justly set the
blackest mark of reprobation upon this fearful vice.
It is equally condemned by Christianity.  " Recompense to no man evilfor evil." "' Ave),e not yourselves."
"Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord."
"Therefore, if thine enemy hunger, feed him; if he thirst,
give him drink."
EMOTIOX OF ENVY.-This is a feeling of discontent at
another's prosperity.  Like all other malevolent emotions,
it is attended with pain. As this pain is peculiar, there
being no other like it, it can of course be known only as
it is experienced. It respects something relating to another,
not to one's self; hence it is unlike regret, and still more
unlike remorse.
Cicero remarks that envy is felt towards one that is
an equal, or nearly an equal, more than towards one far
above or far beneath us. This is doubtless true; and it is
owing to the fact that there is more rivalry in the one
case, than in the other.
For the same reason, it is apt to exist between those
of the same aspirations and pursuits. Thus it often exists
between fellow-students, who are of nearly the same stand.
ing, and in pursuit of the same prize; between ladies of
the same company, each of whom aspires to be the belle;
between men of the same profession in a town, each of
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MORAL ACTION.
whom covets the patronage; between candidates for an
office, who are alike anxious to succeed. Hence, rivalry
and envy are usually united.
Still, envy is confined to no rank nor calling. It sometimes forces its dark wing the whole distance from the
dunghill to the throne, compelling its wretched subject
to seek relief in the calamity of those related to him only
as fellow-beings. Its protection is hypocrisy and deceit;
its instruments are falsehood and slander; its food, the
misfortunes of others; and its end, if allowed long to rule
the heart, the ruin of its miserable subject.
He who would escape one of earth's direst curses, must
keep all envy out of his heart, and also keep himself at
the farthest possible remove from envious persons. "Their
teeth are spears and arrows, and their tongue a sharp
sword." Persons of an envious spirit are given to slander.
By this we may know them.
EMOTION OF OBSTLNACY.-Firmness in resisting evil is
always noble. Obstinacy is a sort of counterfeit of this
virtue. It is a mulish and dogged feeling, defying reason
and argument, and set on having its own way. The obstinate man lacks delicacy and refinement of temper. He
is a churl.
The emotion of obstinacy may be no less vivid and
active than that of penitence.   In the relations of man
with man, the two emotions are counterpart to each other.
Penitence is yielding; impenitence is obstinate; and there
is as much moral activity in resisting conviction of duty,
as in yielding to it. The former is, therefore, as truly a
vice, as the latter is a virtue.
The child who allows the feeling of aversion to parental
authority to rule his heart and sway his conduct; the pupil
who allows the same in relation to school authority; will,
in later years, find this feeling prompting him to resist the
11
241 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
authority of the State, and perhaps to perpetrate those acts
of rebellion which will complete his ruin. Hence children
should be taught, from their earliest years, to be equally
firm in resisting evil, and docile and yielding to every
conviction of duty.
EMOTIOX OF PRIDE.-There is a feeling of satisfaction
in view of worthy attainments as the fruit of virtuous
industry, which is no part of pride, but which some writers
have called by this name. There is no virtue in being
blind, or even indifferent, to our attainments, whether
personal or adventitious. On the contrary, it is our duty
to know ourselves, and the extent of our circumstantial
advantages. Pride and humility are opposite terms. The
one makes a man think more highly of himself than he
ought to think; the other makes him think only as highly
of himself as he ought to think. The vice of pride is in
the disposition itself; not at all depending upon its object.
Thus, one man is proud of his dog; another, of his
horse; another, of his person. One man is proud of his
wealth; another, of his family; another, of his intellect.
Some of these are much nobler possessions than others;
but the vice in question does not lie in being proud of
unworthy objects, but in being proud at all. It is a vice
of all conditions. It may mingle with the loftiest as well
as the meanest pursuits. The same man who, under one
kind of training and one set of circumstances, would be
proud of his intellectual attainments, or of his post of
honor, would, under others, be proud of his coat, or of his
moustache, or of his distinction in a street riot.
Although some writers, from associating the disposition
itself with the objects and circumstances in relation to
which it is exercised, have spoken of a commendable pride,
yet, strictly speaking, there can be no such thing. Pure
morality condemns it. We might as well speak of a cornm
'242 
MORAL ACTION.
mendable envy. Religion, too, is no less sweeping in her
condemnation. All pride is forbidden in the Bible. There
is not an instance in which the sacred writers employ the
term in any other than a bad sense.
]t does indeed betray a most pitiable folly, as well as
vice, to be proud of contemptible attainments; and it certainly bespeaks a man in the lowest stages of degeneracy,
to be proud of that which he ought to be ashamed of;
but all this does not abate the folly and the vice of him,
who, having risen to eminence in knowledge and power,
spoils the glory of the whole by being proud of it. In
point of attainment, he is better off than his less informed
and less fortunate neighbors, who are proud of their fine
apparel and gorgeous furniture; but in point of character,
so far as pride is concerned, he is neither wiser nor better
than they.
EMOTION OF JEALOUSY.-This is nearly the opposite to
confidence. As the latter is an emotion of trust and composure, the former is one of distrust and uneasiness. The
term is usually applied to distrust in love. Thus the suitor
is jealous of his lady, or the lady of her suitor; the husband
of his wife, or the wife of her husband, when either party
suspects the fidelity of the other. But the term is not
restricted to these relations.
Unlike pride, jealousy may be a just and proper emotion; since there may be real cause for it. Although no
possible cause can justify ius in being proud, there may be
causes to justify us in being jealous. Not only morality,
but religion, admits of a righteous jealousy. The sacred
writers ascribe it to God himself. They never speak of
his being proud, but they speak of his being jealous.  "I
the Lord thy God am a jealous God." They ascribe the
same to pious men, as a religious emotion.  "I am jealous
over you," said an apostle, "with godly jealousy."
243 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
But the term is generally used in a bad sense, because
a prevailing disposition to jealousy is evil. It is in this
respect like anger. Although, under certain provocations,
a man may be "angry and sin not," yet, prevailingproneness to anger indicates malevolence; so, while circumstances may sometimes justify jealousy, yet proneness to
jealousy indicates the want of a loving and generous
spirit. Love and generosity are always confiding. Hence
jealousy, as a prevailing temper, is selfish and mean.
We look upon a jealous-minded person with distrust
and contempt. We are never at ease in his presence. We
expect him to scan all our looks, words, and actions, and
to construe them to our disadvantage. Jealousy cannot
see things in their true light; she is "green-eyed."  She
is thus a mortal foe to all domestic and social bliss. Under
the influence of this direful emotion, men have proceeded
from slander, falsehood, abuse, to the desperate acts of
murder and suicide. For "jealousy is the rage of a man,
therefore he wll not spare in the day of vengeance."
"Jealousy is crtuel as the grave; the coals thereof are coals
of fire, which hlath a most ehernment Aeat."
EMoTION OF REMORsE.-We have already noticed remorse, in connection with conscience. We refer to it in
this connection, not to distinguish between remorse itself
and its attending emotion, for the distinction is not important, but to notice more particularly its emotional
nature. We now particularly refer to the vivid cornmp,/netion of conscience, more or less consequent on misdoing.  This is always a painful, and sometimes even an
agonizing emotion   It is of every degree of intensity,
from the feeblest twinges to the most terrible throbs of
anguish.
Conscience gives premonitions, to prevent contemplated
crime; but if the person persists in doing it, she often
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MORAL ACTION.
allows him to go on and complete his work, and to become
entangled in the snares which he has laid for his own feet,
before she again seriously disturbs him. Then, in hours
of reflection, when memory recalls the past, and sets his
conduct before him in its true light, she resumes her work.
She does not inflict upon him her severest pangs at first;
her retributions, like his crimes, approach gradually. The
more he reflects, the more she rebukes him. For this
reason, he often seeks to drown reflection, by plunging
into active cares and amusements. But relief thus obtained is temporary, and is usually followed by still
severer pangs; for the time at length comes when he must
reflect, and that continuously.
Sometimes the compunctious emotion is very violent,
and even spasmodic; urging its wretched subject to desperation and even to suicide. But at other times it takes
the chronic type, embittering his whole life. He cannot
again feel as he did in the days of his innocence; something like a canker-worm gnaws perpetually at his heart.
In vain he exclaims, "0 that I were as in months past."
- He can never again be as he has been. Sometimes he
is fain to say, " 0 that I had wings like a dove, for then I
would gee away and be at rest."  Unhappy man!  Were
hlie gifted with even morning's bright wings, and could he
fly apace as upon a sunbeam to distant climes, and even
to distant worlds, he could neither escape himself, nor
that unchanging law which binds iniquity and misery
indissolubly together.
He may find some relief in a well-formed purpose of
amendment, followed by reformation of conduct. If he
regains the path of virtue and steadfastly pursues it for a
period of years, his pains of conscience may be greatly
mitigated; but they can be fully and for ever removed,
only as he becomes truly penitent before God for all his
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MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
sins, and lays hold by  faith  pon the graciouvprovisions
of the Gospel.
EMOTION OF DESPAIR.-This is seldom experienced on
earth, and is indeed but little known, except in some of
its more obvious effects. When it is of a moral nature, it
includes a feeling of remorse, intensified with a new element of malignity by the utter exclusion of hope. Indeed
the entire absence of hope gives birth to the characteristic
emotion of despair. Could we then imagine the feeling
of one suffering the severest stings of conscience, with no
hope of ever finding relief from them, we should have
some just notion of despair.
Its suffering is so intense, that it cannot be long endured without dethronement of reason. It therefore often
prompts to suicide. There are other inducements to this
act, found in morbid physical and mental states; so that
the act does not always imply guilt. But in cases like
those to which we have referred, it does imply guilt, and
that of the deepest dye. The wretched sufferer, whether
he believes or not in a future state, probably concludes, if
he reasons at all, that his condition can be no worse, and
may possibly be better, by making the fearful plunge.
Perhaps, in the absence of all hope of a better state of
existence, the thought of annihilation flits as a gleam of
light across his distempered brain, and with exulting
madness he leaps to embrace the dread reality.
But it is not profitable to dwell upon these appalling
retributions of crime. Philosophy has done her duty,
when she has pointed them out, and has lifted her warning voice against every approach to them.
246 
CHAPTER VII.
MORALLY RIGHT WILL.
MORATL Will is a rational choice or purpose in reference to
duty.  Morally right will is an honest choice or purpose
to enlighten and obey conscience; or, which is the same
thing, to do what duty requires. Such should be the governing aim of every man, regulating all his appetites,
affections, desires, emotions.
RIGHT AGENCY OF WILL OVER TIIE APPETITES.-There
are two ways in which man may control his appetites.
First, he can avoid tegn])tations. He can shun the society and the places which unduly excite them. If inclined
to inebriation, he should not " look upon the wine when it
is red, when it giveth its color in the cup, when it moveth
itself aright."  Considering that " at the last it biteth like
a serpent, and stingeth like an adder," he should wisely
avoid the tempter. He should resolutely do the same in
regard to every temptation, by which virtue is endangered.
It is mockery to pray,' Lead us not into temptation,"
without a determination to shun it.
Secondly, if inadvertently drawn into temptation, he 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
should firmly resist it. If he has allowed the first citadel
to be taken, and the tempter to approach him, hlie must the
more manfully resist in the second. Here is no surprise.
His eyes are now opened.  He sees his danger, he knows
his duty, and conscience urges him to do it. Now is the
time for him to be valiant, and to say with a brave spirit
of other days, "I have set my face like a  int, and I know
that I shall not be ashamed."
RIGHT AGENCY OF WILL OVER THE AFFECTIONS.-We
have previously noticed the distinction between the will
and the affections. The question now is, What control
may we exert by the former over the latter? Suppose a
man to be conscious of a malevolent affection towards a
fellow-being. Can he by a direct executive act of will
expel it at once from his heart? Experience answers in
the negative. The evil spirit is already in his heart; it
has obtained a lodgment, and so strengthened itself there,
that it does not readily yield.
But he can take effectual means to mortify and subdue
it. Hle can refrain his lips from the slander which it
prompts; he can condemn the spirit itself, and refuse
every act to which it urges. And while thus refusing it
indulgence, he can seek to cultivate the spirit of forgiveness and kindness. A sincere and firm determination to
this end is a morally right choice, and tends to beget the
spirit of love. If when he ",would do good, evil is still
present with" him, let himn firmly persist in the right puLrpose, and what he "' would" be, he eventually will be.
A more difficult point remains. Suppose a person to
be conscious of not loving God.   Can he, by a direct act
of will, render to him the affection due? The truth is, in
such a case, before the Gospel takes effect, that he does
iot really will to love God. We never sincerely will to
love a person whom we have offended and who is justly
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MORAL ACTION.
displeased with us, unless penitent for our misconduct towards him. Sin renders man proud and self-willed, indisposed to repentance and submission. He is willing to be
s8aved, but not to obey. If through grace he becomes penitent, and is thus sincerely willing to serve God, but is
still painfully conscious of unstable or inadequate affection for him, he should, through all mutations and conditions of feeling, firmly maintain his purpose of allegiance
to him; promptly submitting to every self-denial and performing every duty enjoined, and ever relying with implicit trust in Him by whom we receive " power to become the sons of God," and who is "able even to subdue
all things to himself."  He will thus succeed at last, and
his character, in some future day, will shine in the fullorbed radiance of an entire and perfect devotion to God.
This direction is of course valid only in the case of
those who believe the Gospel to be a divine revelation.
They who reject Christ must remain, for aught I can see,
" without God in the world." Whatever philosophy may
achieve in mere social virtue and secular morality, she
knows " none other name under heaven given among men,
whereby we must be saved."
It has been shown that we are naturally inclined to
love our families, our friends, and our fellow-beings generally, with whom we associate. Love is the normal state
of affection. No direct effort of will is therefore here required, except to cultivate and control the affection, and
thus give it moral worth, by a faithful discharge of all
the duties to which it prompts.
RIGHT AGENCY OF THE WILL OVER THE DESIRES.-We
should will to cherish those desires which'are purely natural, and to seek their ends by lawful means.   For instance, the desire of life is natural. To cherish this desire, to exert a purposed guardianship over life, to seek
11*
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MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
to prolong it by means which God has appointed, implies
a right exercise of will in this particular.   The same is
the office of the will in relation to all the natural desires.
But some have contended that, although we are guilty
for being the subjects of wrong desires, when they have
gained a certain ascendency they so cripple and enslave
the will as to impel its choices in spite of us.
On this point the following remarks are quite to our
purpose.  "The hypothesis that desires impel the will to
act, is inconsistent with observed facts. If this hypothesis
were true, the phenomena of volition would be very different from what they are. A man may desire that it
should rain, for example; he may have the most intense
feeling on this subject imaginable, and there may be no
counteracting desire or feeling whatever. Now if desire
ever impelled a man to volition, it would induce him, in
such a case, to will that it should rain. But no man in
his senses ever put forth a volition to make it rain. And
why? Just because he is a rational creature, and knows
that his volition cannot produce any such effect."
" In the same manner, a man might desire to fly, or to
do a thousand other things which are beyond his power;
and yet not make the least effort to do so, not because he
has no power to put forth such efforts, but because he does
not choose to make a fool of himself. This shows that
desire, feeling, &c., is merely one of the conditions necessary to volition, and not its procuring cause." 
The plain truth is, no desire can impel a rational being
to any executive choice, against which he can see s8uficient
reasons; and as he can always see sufficient reasons for not
choosing to gratify vicious desires, it is in his power, and
is his duty, to deny and master them. Hence that man is
* Bledsoe's Examination.
250 
MORAL ACTION.
guilty of a perverse will, who allows any corrupt desire
to have dominion over him.
We are sometimes conscious of conflictiCng desires.
Can a man actually desire opposite things, the right and
the wrong, at the same time? The case seems to be like
that of divided attention. The transitions of attention are
often so rapid as to elude our notice, and thus lead us to
suppose that the mind is actually directed to two or more
objects at the same instant.  When a person contemplates
the motive to a virtuous course, he is inclined to that;
when he contemplates the allurements to a vicious course,
he is inclined to that. For some reasons he desires the
one, for other reasons he desires the other; and yet he
cannot prefer both. He balances betwixt conflicting
desires.
But he may exercise his rational judgment and will.
Self-control does not come of his merely desiring but of
his willing.  To deny this, is to deny his consciousness.
It is his duty to will, in obedience to conscience, and
despite of all desires to the contrary, to take the right
course. The consequence of such a choice, faithfully sustained, will be the eventual subjugation of every wrong
desire to its rightful authority.
RIGHT AGENCY OF WILL OVER THE EMOTIONS.-WVheni
the will maintains rightful ascendency over the affections and desires, it governs all the emotions which pertain to them. The will should govern passionate emno tions, and all mental excitements in which the emotional
element predominates, precisely as it should the appetites.
Most of them arise from causes which we can foresee, and
can thus solicit or avoid, according as the prospective emo tion is good or bad. If we can reasonably anticipate the
cause of a bad emotion, and yet willingly expose ourselves
to it, we are as responsible for that emotion as a man is
251 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
for the flames which consume the building to which he
voluntarily applied the torch. A man of hasty temper
should be especially guarded at this point.
If his passion is already excited, he should by a firm
exertion of will hold himself in a state of silent quiescence,
until passion has had time to cool, reason to regain her
seat, and he is thus qualified again to act as a rational
being. If every passionate person would do thus, violence
would soon cease from the earth.
There is not a good emotion which may not be nourished and rendered immortal, and there is not an evil
emotion which may not be rebuked and finally overcome,
by the firm and persistent determination of an upright will.
Thus was man constituted to exercise a free and willing control over all his appetites, affections, desires, and
emotions, and to keep them in due subjection to the law
of God.
MORAL CERTAINTY DOES NOT IMPAIR FREEDOM.
It has been asserted, that if men are thus free and
sovereign in the exercise of their wills, there can be no
moral certainty in regard to their future choices. There
ds moral certainty; and in the divine mind all our future
actions must be as well known as the past. It may be
morally certain, even to us, how a man will choose in
a given case; but this does not impair his freedom nor
his responsibility in the volition; nay, it rather enhances
them.
It may be morally certain, for instance, that a man
practised in iniquity will, under certain temptations, accept of a bribe. Still he is as free and responsible in his
choice, as though there were no certainty in the case.
He acts even more iunrestrainedly in his choices now, than
in the earlier and more hesitating stages of his depravity;
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MORAL ACTION.
his choice is therefore a more convincing demonstration
of confirmed guilt. The worse a man is, the more certain
it is that hlie will do wrong, and the more free and earnest
he is in choosing to do so.
And so also the man of whom there can be no doubt
that he will choose right, in a case of unquestionable duty,
is a person of higher moral excellence than one of whose
choice we have reason to doubt. We know men of whom
we no more doubt, beforehand, whether they will choose
to do right, than we doubt, after the result has transpired,
whether they have chosen to do so. This is not because
their wills are in bondage, and the freedom and virtue of
their choice are thus impaired, but because they are persons of such known excellence of character.
Such is moral certainty, and such is its consistency
with human freedom; a certainty which must in the
divine mind embrace all future as well as all past human
choices, and a freedom not at all impaired, but even augmented and confirmed, by the certainty.
TRUE MORAL RECTITUDE.
It follows from the view we have taken, that true
moral rectitude is the free and willing subjection of all
the appetites, affections, desires, emotions, tastes, to the
demands of an enlightened and faithful conscience. This
is the standard of natural morality. Such would be our
duty, if we had no special revelation from God. So far
as one fails in either of these particulars, he comes short
of what he ought to be. He may be right in respect to
some of them, and faulty in respect to others.  -le may
govern his appetites, he may be strictly temperate and
chaste, but fail to govern his affections, desires, or passions;
he may be malicious, or covetous, or passionate. Hie may
253 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
perhaps hold in check some wrong feeling which he less
cares to indulge, that he may give the freer rein to a fvorite lust.  Thus he may be temperate from a motive of
avarice, chaste from a motive of ambition, generous from
a motive of vanity. Such is not true moral rectitude.
Unlike this is the case of him, whose governing principle is the subjection of all his powers and propensities
to the rule of right. He may be conscious of coming short
in some or even in all particulars, but he is right in the
main article. Such a man is neither wilfully perverse, on
the one hand, nor perfect, on the other. A constant warfare with all that remains in him of evil must be his, until
the victory is won. Such is morally right will.
The conflict which every person aspiring to moral rectitude must maintain with evils within and around him,
demands courage, fortitude, and jrmne8ss.  As these pertain chiefly to the will, we shall notice them here.
COURAGE.-The principal element of this virtue is a
firm and steady determination. It implies intrepidity of
purpose amidst all dangers that may beset the path of
duty. We sometimes speak of the courageousness of a
man in doing wrong. This is not courage, but recklessness in crime. The word, both in its etymology and use,
indicates whole-heartedness; and this can exist only in
reference to what a man believes to be right. If there is
any misgiving on this point, the heart cannot be thoroughly
sound and strong in the matter.
True courage, then, supposes an honest conviction of
being righteously engaged in a righteous cause. It carries
with it the conscience, the affections, desires, emotions;
in a word, the whole heart. All the impulses of the soul
are taken up by the rational will, and concentrated upon
its object. It is the honest conviction of duty that thus
nerves the good man to the conflict; it renders him fear
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MORAL  ACTION.
less of reproach and slander; it is his shield and his sword
on the field of battle.
It was true courage that emboldened Paul to contend
manfully for the truth, in opposition to the combined hostility of Jews and Gentiles; that made Luther stand erect,
in the great struggle for civil and religious freedom. It
was this, that more than once delivered Greece from her
formidable foes, and that fought the battles of our own
national independence. In a world where virtue has so
much to contend with, a man without courage is a useless
and pitiable object.
FOnTITIUDE.-While courage is a prominently active
virtue, fortitude is more passire.  The former struggles
and contends, the latter suffers and endures.   Men have
usually more courage; women more fortitude.
But these virtues are always to some extent combined.
Perseverance in conflict, implies also the spirit of endurance.  Daniel and Paul seem to have had as much fortitude in the dens of wild beasts as courage in the courts of
wicked tyrants. The fortitude of John Rogers at the
stake, of La Fayette in prison, of Washington in trial and
disaster, was equalled by their courage to face hostility
and death in the conflict for truth and freedom.
True fortitude, like courage, is found only in integrity
of heart. It is among the sublimest of virtues. It may
not be irreverent to add, that it shone second to none in the
constellation of virtues which crowned the life and death
of Jesus Christ.
FTnmNESS.-This implies steadfastness of purpose, and
is opposed to fickleness.  But it is more than steadfastness; for a man may be steadfast in crime. This is ob stinacy. True firmness, like courage and fortitude, is
based upon honest convictions, and dwells only with
integrity of heart.
255 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
A man of moral firmness has an iron will; but the iron
is tempered with benignity, and glows with love. Enlightened judgment, an active conscience, a supreme regard to duty, guide that will and give to it enduring
command.
Such a will no power can break, no temptation bend.
Wielded in obedience to the will of heaven, it has omnipotence with it.  Men may torment and kill the body,
but they cannot subdue the will of a truly firm and righteous man in a righteous cause. Dungeons, scaffolds, fires,
racks, have all proved equally powerless with bribes and
flatteries, to move him from his lofty purpose. Amidst
them all he stands erect, like granite rock, around which
ocean waves eternally dash in vain.
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CHAPTER VIII.
MORALLY WRONG WVILL.
TiE mere animal can will only in obedience to nistinct;
man can will from a regard to duty. When false to conscience, he sinks in some respects below the brute; for the
brute has a larger endowment of instinct than he, which
does not allow the self-abasement which he can practise.
By acting irrationally he may fall as far below brutes, as
in the constitution of his being he is superior to them.
It is then obvious why he ought to govern his animal
nature by his rational, and not his rational nature by his
animal. It is because he was made to act, not as a mere
animal, or something worse, but as a rational and accountable being.  We must not, however, identify his rational
powers with himself   They are not himself, any more
than his animal impulses are.  The former, as truly as the
latter, belong to him.  The latter qualify him to act as an
animal; the former, added to the latter, qualify him to act
as a rational being; but neither nor all combined are the
identical person indicated when he says I. It is the Ego,
that efficiently moves the will, and by it, directly or indirectly, all the mental powers; and, because endowed  with
reason and conscience, is responsible for the volitions. 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
A man may exist with his reason dethroned and his
moral powers thus entirely disabled. He is in that state
the same person which he was at a previous period, when
hlie was rational. The difference is, that he was then
accountable for his acts, because he had the use of his
rational powers, but now he is not accountable, because
he has not the use of them.
In this view the following remarks, which are suggestive and mainly correct, seem to need some modification.
"Though each man's desires and affections," says Whewell, "belong especially to himself, while reason is a
common faculty in all men, we consider our reason as
being ourselves, rather than our desires and affections.
We speak of desire, love, anger, as mastering us, or of
ourselves as controlling them. If we decide to prefer
some remote and abstract good to immediate pleasure;
or to conform to a rule which brings us present pain;
which decision implies the exercise of reason; we more
particularly consider such acts as our own acts. Such acts
are deemed especially the result, not of the impulse of our
desires, but of our own volitions." *
Here we pause to inquire, Can the "impulse of our
desires" lead us to any executive acts whatever, excepting as we will?  And whenever we do "decide," is not
the choice "our own  act," and are we not personally responsible for it?  This laying the blame of our bad conduct upon the " desires and affections," because they belong to us, and taking the credit of our good conduct,
since it is dictated by our " reason as being ourselves," too
often serves as a quieting panacea to conscience.
Our author continues, "If we ask why we thus identify ourselves with our rational part, rather than with our
* Whewell, Vol. I. p. 58.
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MORAL ACTION.
desires and affections, we reply, that it is because the
reason alone is capable of that reflex act by which we become conscious of ourselves.   To have so much thought
as to distinguish between ourselves and our springs of action, is to be rational; and the reason which can make
this distinction, necessarily places us on one side, and the
desires which make no such distinction, on the other. It
is by the reason that we are conscious; and hence we
place the seat of our consciousness in the reason."
But are not brutes, as well as we, conscious of their
pains, pleasures, wants, &c.? If they are hungry, are
they not conscious of it?  If we tear their flesh, or deprive the mothers of their young, do they not feel it, and
know that they feel it? They are not conscious of rational
perceptions, nor of moral acts, just because they have
none; but so far as they are the subjects of any thing to
be conscious of, they evince as much consciousness as we
do.   Our reason, then, as related to consciousness, is
merely the cause of our being conscious of more than
they. Hience the argument from consciousness, that
would identify ourselves with our reason, proves nothing.
We quote further, "The habit of identifying ourselves
with our reason, and not with our desires, is further indicated by the term passion, which is applied to desire and
affection when uncontrolled by reason; as if man, in such
cases, were passive, and merely acted upon; and as if he
were really active, only when he acts in conformity with
his reason. Thus we speak of a man's being in a passion,
meaning an uncontrolled fit of anger; and having a passion for an object, meaning an uncontrolled desire."
" Still, it is to be recollected that man, under the influence of such passions, is not really passive. When he
acts under such influences, he adopts the suggestions of
desire or affection, and rejects the control of reason; but
259 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
this he does in violation of reasonable rules. Passion
does not prevent a man's knowing that there is a rule,
and that he is violating it. To say that passion is irresistible, is to annihilate reason, and to exclude the most essential condition of human action."
This is very true and important, but we are at the
same time to remember, that whenever a sane man,
whether from passion or any other cause, " adopts the suggestions of desire and affection, and rejects the control of
reason," however unreasonably he may act, he is still a rational beitg, and is himself entirely responsible for his
acts.  He "adopts" no suggestions, however urgent, but
by the free consent of his will; and to yield to any "suggestions," in opposition to the plain dictates of reason and
conscience, is a morally wrong choice. Whenever he
does this, conscience has a charge against Aim, and sooner
or later he must be arraigned at her bar.
EXTREMIE IMPULSIVE EXCITEMENTS.
That we have a responsible power of control over our
ordinary impulses, no moralist denies. It is only under
intense excitements, that the responsibility is questioned.
But who shall decide where the limit of responsibility
lies?  If responsibility diminishes, as passion increases;
if, under one degree of passion, a man is guilty for choosing to commit murder, but under a higher degree the
same choice becomes guiltless; we may as well throw up
our courts of justice and let all the passions loose.
Let us test the question by supposing an extreme case
of each of the natural impulses.
1. AN EXTREME CASE OF APPETITE.-A man has by indulgence enraged a morbid appetite for strong drink, until it has risen to an agony. In such cases men have been
260 
MORAL ACTION.
known to tear their own flesh, that they might avail themselves of the alcohol furnished to dress their wound. Does
the intensity of appetite in such a case justify a man in
taking the fatal cup?
We firmly answer, no.  It was by guilty indulgence
that he brought himself into this fearful dilemma; and
now his only alternative is, to endure the pangs of selfdenial and determined resistance, or to do worse; to add
to his guilt, and plunge onward to certain ruin. The first
choice may involve the greater present suffering; but it
is the pain of a man who submits to the amputation of a
limb to save his life.
To say that he cannot resist the temptation, is not true;
for thousands, in such cases,  have resisted.  Let him  see
you put a deadly poison in the cup, such as would kill
him in five minutes, and he would not touch it.
He can refuse, and no amount of suffering from the
refusal of this or any morbid craving, can excuse him from
acting the part of a rational being. It is his duty to decide, positively and at all hazards, to hold his appetite
in perfect subjection to the laws of reason.
2. AN EXTREME CASE OF AFFECTION.-Instead of a malevolent affection, which most would admit should not be
indulged, let us suppose a benevolent one. A man is passionately in love. We will suppose his love to be such as,
under ordinary circumstances, it would be right to gratify.  But he sees positive and sufficient reasons why he
should not choose the loved object for his wife.
What ought he to do? Should he give the preference
to affection, or to reason; to passion, or to conscience?
He must practise severe self-denial; he must pluck out
his right eye and cast it from him, or do worse. Shall lie
do the painful thing, or the worse thing?  To follow the
leading of benevolent affection, is tihe general rule of
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MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
right; but there are cases when it conflicts with the
higher law of reason and conscience; and in all such cases
the higher law must rule, and the self-denial, however
painful, must be endured.
3. AN EXTREME CASE OF DESIRE.-Suppose a man desires a portion of his neighbor's property.   His neighbor
is rich, and he himself is poor.   His neighbor does not
need all he has; indeed there is reason to believe that he
would be better off with less; for so much property is a
burden to him, and tempts his children to idleness and
vice. Whereas, if he himself possessed a portion of it,
he could thereby provide for the real wants of his famnily
and could educate his children for respectability and usefulness. What would thus be no loss to his neighbor, but
great gain to himself and his family, why should he not
choose to make his own?
He has only to use his neighbor's name, or employ
some person to use it for him, and the paper is good in
the market.   The desire is urgent, he wills to obey it.
He has nourished the desire by plausible arguments, and
now he sustains his decision by the same. But if the
civil law detects him, it will not regard those arguments:
neither will his conscience regard them. They will prove
as a spider's web to protect him from even the civil law,
and especially from the ever sure retributions of avenging
conscience.
And why?  Because he was made to govern his desire
by the law of conscience, and not to govern his conscience
by the law of desire. His desire of property was not in
itself wrong; but to desire to possess it by unrighteous
means, was a wrong desire, and hence the choice to gratify that desire was an unrighteous choice. Here is guilt
added to guilt, wrong choice added to wrong desire, hurrying its victim to swift destruction.
262 
MORAL ACTION.
4. AN EXTREME CASE OF EMOTION.-Let us suppose a
man in the intensest passion of anger. He is not insane;
so as to be irresponsible for his acts, but he is in such a
temper of passion that he can scarcely refrain from striking the fatal blow. He is in an agony to do it. It would
give vent to his passion, and afford him infinite relief:
Shall he do it?  If he does  he is indicted for manslaughter.
Is the law unjust?  No.  The law is right; because,
as we have said, the man was made to govern his impulses
by his rational powers, and not his rational powers by his
impulses. The law is right, not merely because it is prudential, and necessary to society, but because it is in accordance with the constitution of our being, and is therefore founded in essential morality.
Now if we are guilty for not governing by the law of
conscience even our most urgent natural impulses, under
the most powerful temptations to yield to them, no one
can doubt that we are guilty for not governing, by the
same law, those which are less urgent and more easily
controlled.
PERMANENT WRONG CHOICE.
We have considered wrong s8pecic choices.  There is
another kind of choice, deep and generic, which may be
called permanent. A man may have a wrong choice, as
well as a right one, as lasting as life. To fix upon a suitable calling for life, and steadfastly pursue it, is right and
important. It is the only way to insure success. As a
man cannot succeed with divided efforts, he should early
give his undivided and persistent choice to the pursuit for
which he is best adapted, and, with strict regard to duty,
accomplish in it the most he can. It is thus that the greatest and best of men have given their names to immortality.
263 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
The permanent wrong choice to which we refer is much
the same as this, with the single momentous exception that
it does not regard the law of conscience. The choice is
supreme and absolute, not subordinate and conditional.
Thus a man may choose wealth, literary distinction, military glory, office, power, the gratification of vanity, or
mere pleasure, as his supreme object of pursuit. To be
upright, just, pure; to accomplish a mission of good to his
fellow-beings; to do the will of God; is to him a subordinate consideration.
That choice may go with him to the grave and mould
his entire character. It is the ruling principle of his lifeb.
Suppose it to have grown to full and permanent effectiveness when he is at the age of twenty-five. lie lives to the
age of seventy-five, and thus maintains his choice fifty
years. There is then charged to his account a wrong
choice, fifty years old. It is a crime of half a century.
It has lived to see his bright eye fade, his fair cheek
ploughed with furrows, his black locks frosted and fallen,
the marrow dug from his bones, and his once firm step
tottering to the grave. Hiis soul has become as withered
and sightless as his body. We must leave him to settle
his long and dread account with his conscience and his
God.
But we should not fail to notice the wrong done to
others, as well as to himself, by that guilty choice. We
should think of the tender sympathies it has crushed, the
sweet charities it has withheld, the cruel games it has
played with the necessities and credulities of men; of the
envious feelings, slanderous words, and unfair means, to
which it has given rise; of its ruthless sacrifice of the
peace, comfort, virtue, and hopes of men, whenever they
came its way; of the havoc it has made of parental, conljugal, filial, fraternal love, of the love of humanity, and
264 
MORAL ACTION.
of the homage due to God. Its whole pathway of fifty
years is strewed with mischief and crime.
Nearly the opposite to courage, fortitude, and firmness,
noticed in the previous chapter, are cowardice, stoicism,
and obstinacy. These, too, are qualities with which the
will is mostly concerned, and they are as evil as the others
are good.
COWARDICE.-This is the opposite to courage.  It may
result in part from a man's feebleness of nervous temperament. So far it is not moral. It is usually due, however,
to his want of a well-settled conviction of being in the
right, or his consciousness of being in the wrong; or to
his want of confidence in the success of the cause; or to
his selfish fear to encounter danger; or, worst of all, to his
want of cordial and supreme devotion to truth and duty.
Hie takes counsel of selfish prudence, rather than of conscience. He is therefore of a weak and timid heart. Hiis
will is effeminate and sickly.
A coward in any responsible position is a miserable
poltroon, whose personal safety and selfish aims are to
him more important than the cause which he is set to
defend.  He can therefore never be relied upon.  However boastful in the onset, he will prove treacherous in
the conflict, whenever he fails to receive bright assurances.
To pacify his childish fears and secure his selfish ends, he
will in the hour of conflict abandon his most sacred principles and desert his best friends. In a world like this,
where so many hard battles for the right against the wrong
must be fought, a coward in any responsible position is
sadly out of place.
STOIcisM.-This is not the opposite to fortitude, but
a substitute for it. Fortitude affects no indifference to
suffering, but patiently endures it. Stoicism affects to
disregard both pleasure and pain altogether. It is
12
265 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
a sullen and desperate will, resolved only on caring for
nothing.
Its rational basis is the doctrine of fatality. Adopting
the necessitarian scheme, and considering our destiny
fixed by the stars, the stoic makes a virtue of necessity,
and determines to be as much a mere thing as possible.
Truth does not teach him; Providence does not admonish
him; neither mercies nor judgments move him. Having
assumed a false position, against which the sensibilities of
his nature and the course of Providence are at war, lihe
endures all the pains and penalties of probation without
any of its benefits or rewards.
OBSTINACY. -AS stoicism is a vicious substitute for
fortitude, so is obstinacy for firmness. The term obstinacy
is sometimes used in a good sense, as when we speak of
soldiers fighting obstinately in a righteous cause. It however usually denotes an unreasonable course of conduct.
It sets reason and argument at defiance. It yields to no
persuasion, and is reckless of consequences. It is thus a
blind and sulky stubbornness of will, overmastering the
rational powers. It implies narrow views and a mean
spirit, and is sustained by an intensely selfish and sensitive jealousy.
An obstinate man is apt to be sullen and revengeful.
He is not usually quick to revenge, like a person of vivid
emotions; but he is surer, more calculating, and more
vindictive. Magnanimity and generosity being no part
of his character, he finds few congenial friendships, and is
therefore usually as miserable as he is mean.
266 
CHAPTER IX.
SOURCE OF THE MORALITY OF ACTIONS.
MIEN have been much divided in opinions respecting the
source of the mnorality of actions. Some of the Grecian
philosophers referred it to the emotions, as urging us to
extremes; some of the early Christian fathers referred it
to the appetites; others, of the transcendental school, have
referred it wholly to the will; others have considered
man a mere  machine, and God himself the only responsible agent; while more modern writers have supposed that
they have found it in a supposed taste or relig/, or in the
afecetions and desires. *
Now, according to our analysis, the moral quality of each
elementary mental act or state, is in the act or state itself,
and is known by being compared with its rule. We determine the quality of an action just as we do that of any
thing else, by comparing it with its standard, and thus
deciding whether it is what it ought to be. What the
rules or principles of action are, we shall show hereafter.
* The reader is here referred for the above views, severally, to the writings
of Plato and Socrates; of Augustine; of Kant and his disciples, including
Cudworth and Coleridge; of Spinoza, Swedenborg, and others of the pantheistic and the necessitarian school; of Burton, and other tasters; and of
more recent and still living authors, who need not be mentioned. 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
But when we would find the source of the moral quality of actions, we must look to the responsible agent himself. If we ask, what makes an action wrong, the answer
is, its deviation from the rule. If we ask, who makes an
action wrong, the answer is, the man who makes the action.  It is the man him,self, who craves, loves, desires,
wills, and if he does these things wrongly, that is, differently from what the just rules prescribe, he is the source
of the wrong done, and must account for it.
He must not refer the bad quality of a volition to a
bad desire which prompts it, and so pronounce the volition itself characterless; nor the bad quality of an affection to a morbid appetite, and so divest the affection itself of quality. Each has its own peculiar quality of good
or evil, and the responsible man must answer for it.
As the opinions upon this subject have now become
reduced mainly to three, that which locates all moral
quality in the affections and desires, that which places it
in the will, and that which makes man merely passive,
our remarks will have particular reference to these, while
illustrating the general principle that includes them all.
"It hence appears," says Dr. Alexander, in deducing
an inference from his argument, " that the true and ultimate source of the morality of actions is not found in the
will, but in the desires and affections. The simple act of
volition, namely, a determination to do a certain act, is
always the same, whatever be the motive. And to ascertain that an action proceeds from an act of will, only determines that it is the act of a particular agent, but gives
us no knowledge respecting the true moral quality of the
act. This will be found universally true." *
But it would be difficult to prove that if a man has
* Outlines of Moral Science, p. 139.
268 
MORAL ACTION.
wrong "desires and affections," his "determination" to
gratify them is not wrong also. The excellent author had
a specific truth in mind, which he well illustrated; but
he does not use the term "will," when speaking of the
" source of the morality of actions," in the true philosophical sense.   Considered as a mere nervous impulse
upon the muscles, physically determining them in a particular way, itself disconnected from all relation to the
rational faculties, an act of will is of course destitute of
moral quality; as truly so as mere brute volition.
But this is not what philosophers and theologians mean
by will, when treating of moral action. They mean the
will as related to reason and conscience. When they
speak of " an act of volition," or " a determination to do
a certain act," they indicate the volition or determination
of a man, knowing his duty, to do or not to do it. When
a man, in the exercise of his rational powers, determines
to do the will of God, so far as he knows it, his determination is morally rightA. iHe then makes a good choice;
that is, he puts a good moral quality into that act of will.
If he chooses to do something else, rather than obey the
divine will, he makes a bad choice; that is, he puts a bad'
moral quality into that act of will. In each case, the good
or the bad quality is in the choice, determination, or volition; the man htimself is the source of it; that is, he put
it there; and he must answer for it. This seems, indeed,
too plain to need to be stated.
And this is certainly the scriptural view of it. The
Scriptures call upon men to make a right use of their will,
and predicate moral quality of its action. The Israelites
were commanded to choose whom they would serve.  To
choose to do otherwise than serve the Lord, was itself an
act having decided moral quality, and one for which he
would not fail to hold them responsible.
269 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
This is the generic use of the term, and the same is
true of all specice acts of will, when the choice or the volition lies between doing right or wrong. To say that a
man cAooses wrong, because he has a wrong desire, is just
saying that he does two wrong things; and that he does
the one because he does the other. He desires wrong and
he chooses wrong. If it is wrong to Aave a bad desire, it
would take more logic than we have ever yet seen, to
prove that it is not also wrong to determine to gratify it.
EACH ACT HAS ITS OWN QUALITY.
We really make no progress, we get no deeper into
the mind, when searching for the source of a moral quality, by referring that of one state or act to another. If a
person may will wrong because he has a wrong desire, so
he may desire wrong because he has a wrong will. If our
desires affect our wills, so our wills affect our desires;
and a person may be as much in fault for the one as for
the other.  Why  does the stubborn child desire to.have
his own way, despite of parental authority?  Because he
is wilful?  Do we not justly ascribe moral quality to his
wilfulness?  Hie is punished for that state or act of will,
that he may be induced to give it up and cherish a right
one in its place.
The truth is, all the powers of the mind, as well as all
the members of the body, have more or less of good or
bad effect upon each other, according as they are severally in a sound or a disordered state; and, although several
in elements, they blend together and become one in action. A sunbeam is one in action, as it goes forth from
its source upon the world; but as painted upon the arch
of the rainbow, it is seen in seven distinct colors. These
colors proceed alike from the same great source, and were
270 
MORAL ACTION.
the sun an accountable being, he would be responsible
alike for them all.
For the sake of analysis, the philosopher applies his
prism and separates the solar light, as we divide the mental action, into its several elements, but he never supposes
that the elementary hues owe their quality to each other.
Each has its own color; each comes from the same source;
and all blend together in one combined action of the sun,
as witnessed in a beam of light.
Such is moral action. Considered as a whole, it is
never a single element; as our entire examination has
shown. It is always composed of several elements, each
having its own quality and coming from one and the same
responsible source.   We  have thus the psychological
analysis and the moral synthesis.
THE DOCTRINE OF HUMAN PASSIVITY.
As to the view that considers men passive, in the
sense that virtually absolves them from responsibility, it
is settled by answering the question, not whether God has
made them independent of himself, as the advocates of
the view would have it; for nobody pretends this; but
whether he has made them moral agents; that is, beings
endowed with powers which render them justly responsible for their conduct.*
The sun is dependent upon its Maker. It is only as
sustained by him that it shines. Still it was made to enlighten the world; and it actually does what it was made
* "He who feels himself responsible for the good and evil which proceed
from him, or feels a property in them, must have previously forgotten that all
his life is from God, and have come to find it in himself.  This is the reason
why, as Swedenborg says,'he appropriates to himself all evil and falsity,
which he would never do were his belief formed according to the real truth in
the case.' "-The Nature of Evil, by HE;XY JAMEs, p. 144.
271 
MORAL PHIILOSOPHY.
to do. To say that the sun is nothing and God is all, in
producing the effect, is just charging God with making
the sun in vain. This notion is both unphilosophical and
unscriptural. It is one phase of virtual pantheism.
The Scriptures instruct us that "God made two great
lights; the greater light to rule the day, and the lesser
light to rule the night." The greater light, or source of
light, is of course the sun; and it rules the day by shedding its light over the earth. God does not shed the light
himself, by the bare exertion of his power; hlie made the
sun to do it, and the sun, as his instrument, does it.
But if he could create and sustain a mass of inanimate
matter, and empower it to do so important a service,*
he could also create and sustain responsible beings, and
empower them to do another and far nobler service. Such
beings he has made men. Having given them a rational
nature, written his law in their conscience, laid his command upon them, made them free to choose the way of
obedience, and placed the stupendous motives of his moral
government before them, to induce them to do so, he
justly holds them accountable for the service for which
he made them. They ought to render it. It is a reasonable, right, glorious service; as befitting and blessed to
them, as it is honorable to the Being who made them.
If the sun by shining reflects the glory of God's creative
power, the beings made in his likeness ought to reflect
those brighter splendors of his moral glory, which the
beams of the sun are too feeble to represent.
* All causality originates and is sustained by free voluntary beings, divine
or human; hence, when we predicatepower, cause, action, of inanimate or irrational nature, it is only in the secondary sense of means or in?struments. Thus
the molecular action and rate of vibrations on which light seems directly to
depend, are as ineffectual to the end as the inert mass of the sun itself, excepting as they are made effectual by the divine will.  The agency of the divine
will, itself transcendent and known only in and by its effects, is the ultimatum
of all science.
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MORAL ACTION.
But how may they do this?  Evidently by being, in
respect to character, like God; holy as he is holy, righteous as he is righteous.  Such are the angels in heaven;
such were our first parents before they ifell. This righteousness consists in right affection, desire, choice, emotion,
in reference to all beings and all objects in the universe.
It has its seat in the heart, and is always direct and true
to its end. It implies the desire of moral excellence, because it is excellent; the love of being, because it is
being; the choice to do right, because it is right; and all
the attending appropriate emotions.
It is evident that a heart thus disposed, when directed
towards such a being as God, will supremely love him.
When men "hunger and thirst after righteousness," that
is, supremely desire righteousness for its own sake, they
will, of course, supremely delight in God; for in him is
the living embodiment of all righteousness. And he who
thus delights in God, will choose to do his will. Hiere,
then, we have the whole heart going forth to God. Desire
embraces his righteousness; love, his being; will, his
service; and, in and through all, the emotions vibrate to
enrich and enliven the devotion. Such is true religious
homage. It is precisely this, the supreme homage of the
soul to God, that man lost by the fall.
MORAL RENOVATION.
We thus learn the nature of the change wrought in
man by the grace of the Gospel. It is not merely a change
of appetite, or of affection, or of desire, or of volition, so
that one of these, being itself renovated, may rectify the
others; neither is it a change or refining of mere taste,
nor a quickening or exaltation of emotion. It extends to
and embraces all these, but is restricted to neither. Deep              12*
213 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
er, more thorough and generic, it is a change of the nan
hi?mself.  Hee is "born again;"   he becomes a "new
man; "t he is a " new creature." l He is not changed as
to personal identity, nor as to natural powers; he becomes
a new moral man. And his change is not only moral, but
generic. He becomes a new man as to his entire heart.
The new-born infant, however infirm, feeble, or sickly,
is yet entire. It has all the parts of the full-grown and
perfect man. One member is not born into the world
alone, that it may beget the other members. Neither is
one element of the heart brought alone into newness of life,
that it may impart that life to the other elements. On
becoming a "new man," the person him,self devotes all
the powers of his being a " living sacrifice to God," as his
"reasonable service."
But this may still. seem too vague.  The reader may
desire a more definite idea of the vrecise seat of the change
in question.  I do not know of any one word which better
indicates the seat of the change than disposition; for this
refers equally to all the moral powers. When a man is
not disposed to love, desire, choose, act, as he ought, in
his relation to God, he is not a religious man. He is in
that state into which the fall brought mankind.  When
he becomes through grace dis8posed to love, desire, choose,
act, as he ought, in his relation to God, he is a religious
man.  He is in the renewed state into which the Gospel
brings mankind. The change in question is thus a radical
and generic change of the moral man.  He himself becomes rigyhtly disposed in reference to all duty.
But while renewing grace thus touches and moves him
at once in all the springs of character, it perfects him in
none. He neither loves, desires, nor wills, perfectly; he
* John iii. 7.        t Col. iii. 10.         $ 2 Cor. v 17.
274 
MORAL ACTION.
has no moral element, and performs no duty, in all respects
right. But to be and to do all that he ought, and thus to
glorify God in his spirit and in his body, is now his ruling
principle of heart and life. Hence, if this change is predicated only of the will, we must understand the will in
the largest sense, as involving and ruling the entire heart.
"Old things are passed away, behold all things are become new." Not in some things, but in all things, does
the new man become subject to the law of the new life.
Even his most virtuous desires and affections receive a
new quality of moral excellence, by the divine "image"
after which he is "renewed."
The natural sun blends and harmonizes all its elemen
tary rays in one glorious beam of dazzling brightness,
because it does as it was made to do; and so also they
who, by receiving Christ, receive "power to become sons
of God," blend and harmonize all their elementary impulses in a life of moral excellence, because they also now
begin to do as they were made to do.
The man thus renewed has become right in principle.
Hie aims right. His eye is "single." Hle therefore sees,
more clearly than he did before his renewal, what is right.
Darkness may be on each side, but he sees the way of
duty, right onward before him, as luminous as the path of
the sun through the heavens.  "If thine eye be single, thy
whole body shall be full of light."
Although the "new man" has not any of his powers
in perfect subjection to the ruling law of his life, yet
since he is faithfully striving to have them so, he is in
princigpe upright.   His homage is sincere and entire,
embracing all his faculties, but it is imperfect. Such has
been the character of every righteous man that has lived
upon earth since the fall, with the single exception of
"the man Christ Jesus."
27.5 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
On the other hand, if a man is not under the controlling influence of right principle, whatever may be the
states or exercises of his several mental elements, he is
not a morally upright man. Hle is not merely imperfect,
as all are, but he is wanting in the right aim. His eye is
"evil."  He is essentially and radically wrong.
And for this reason, he is also full of darkness and
doubt. The way of duty is to him uncertain and cheerless, because his eye is not single. Thick and portentous
clouds gather along his path, wrapping their gloomy folds
eternally about his guilty spirit.  " If thine eye be evil,
thy whole body shalt be full of darkness."
Not the least characteristic qualities of the new man
and of the old, are the spirit of humility in the one, and
the spirit of pride in the other.  The latter, "through the
pride of his countenance, will not seek after God; " the
former has been led in humbleness and contrition of spirit
to see him, and in the view, to "abhor" himself, and to
"repent in dust and ashes."  Thus seeing himself in the
light of the divine character, and realizing his entire dependence both upon divine power and grace, he is "clothed
with humility;" a garment which, however despised on
earth, is as much esteemed in heaven as the shining robes
which angels wear.
We thus reach the true sourcee of the moral quality of
all mental states and actions. Of all bad moral quality, it
is found in the man himself, the progenitor of the race,
and each of his responsible descendants, misusing and
perverting his powers as a moral agent. Of all good moral quality, the source is found, first of all, in God himself,
through the grace of the Gospel begetting and replenishing the "new man;" and, secondarily, in the new man
himself, using his powers as he was made to do.
This fundamental distinction in human character is
276 
MORAL ACTION.
recognized throughout the Scriptures, in a great variety
of forms; it accords with the known laws of mind and of
moral action, and must always enter into every sound
and thorough system of moral science. Nor has he whose
especial calling it is to endeavor to make mankind what
they should be, learned well his duty, until he clearly sees
this distinction, and with skilful hand lays the axe at the
root of the tree.
277  
PART IV.
PRINCIPLES
I. NATUILRAL PRINCIPLES OF MORALITY.
CHAPTER I.
THEORIES OF THE LAW OF RIGHT.
THE word principle has various applications. It is sometimes used to denote a mental faculty; as when we speak
of the principle of perception, of imagination, of affection, &c.  It is also used to denote a mental state or continuous act, as when we speak of the principle of envy,
of ambition, of revenge, &c. When a man is influenced
by one of these motives, we say he is envious, or amnbitious, or revengeful, according to the particular principle
which rules his conduct.
In the above senses the term is used subjectively; that
is, it indicates something within us, pertaining to the mind
itself, or to its character. But we are now to use the term
objectively; that is, as indicating something presented to 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
the mind from without, to be by it adopted as a rule of
duty.   In this sense, the term may indicate either the
rule itself, or the reason for it.
ESSENTIAL AND POSITIVE PRINCIPLES.-The essential principles of morality have their perceived reason in themselves.
No extraneous reason can be given why they are right,
any more than one can be given for the truth of a mathematical axiom. The mind has only to perceive the rule
it8self to perceive its rightfulness. The positive principles
of morality are rules of conduct whose reason, or that
which makes them right, is not seen in the rules themselves, but exists in some unperceived necessity, or some
necessity lying without them.
NATURAL AND REVEALED PRINCIPLES.-A more important distinction of moral principles is that of natural and
revealed. The former are taught us by the light of nature, and are binding on all accountable beings.   The
latter are taught us by a special revelation from God, and
are made obligatory upon us by his authority.  They are
hence called revealed principles of morality.
For instance, the rule of benevolence, is natural.  It is
binding on all accountable beings, and can never be altered. But the rule for the observance of the Sabbath, is
revealed. It is binding only upon those to whom the
revelation is made.
HIence, as we have natural and revealed religion, so
we have natural and revealed morality; and their analogy
and unity of design in the all-embracing government of
God, are clearly manifest. Both in acting upon the principle of benevolence, and upon the principle of observing
the Sabbath, we obey the same government and fulfil the
same design of God.
The term morality, in the secular sense, indicates the
duties of man to man, in distinction from his duties to God.
280 
NATURAL PRINCIPLES OF MORALITY.
In this view, he is a religious man, who does as he ought
in his relation to God; while he is a moral man, who does
as he ought in his relation to his fellow-beings.
But in the generic and highest sense, morality respects
an universal ought. It looks in all directions, and inquires
for the right in every relation. The central law of morality is the law of our entire duty, both as it respects ourselves and our relations to all other beings. Our relation
to God as well as to men, has its morality.
The word right, from the Latin rectus, and having corresponding terms to denote the same idea in all languages,
indicates the existence of law, by which all rules and
actions are to be tried. When conformed to their laws,
they are right, just, good; or, in other words, what they
ought to be.
Where, then, must we look for the ultimate law of
right? What is it that makes rules themselves, and of
course the actions conformed to them, what they ought to
be?  What makes the rules just, and the obedient actions
right? Is it something within us, around us, from above
us, or from all these sources?  Is it absolute and eternal,
or conventional and changing; or does it partake of both?
We have not space to examine in detail the voluminous
speculations upon this subject, but will condense them
into a single chapter. They may be comprised in the following theories: the arbitrary, the greatest happiness, the
highest good, and the subjective.
THE ARBITRARY THEORY.
This theory refers all moral right to positive institutions and enactments.  Nothing is right in itself; it is
made so by circumstances and the consequent necessary
laws. The theory assumes that the powers which be,
281 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
whether divine or human, have the right to control us as
they please; it being theirs to command, ours to obey.
We must not go behind the law to find a reason for
it; for none is to be found; all right and all wrong
being made such by the authority of God, or of his duly
constituted magistrates. Hence this is called the doctrine
of blind and passive obedience, and is of excellent use in
all despotic governments.
This theory is the.counterpart of a fanatical error which
sets all positive enactments at defiance, on the ground
that the law of conscience is sufficient for every man. It
was advocated by Hobbe and other loyalists, in opposition to the spirit of misrule which prevailed at the time
of the decapitation of Charles I.
It more than deifies human governments; for even
God himself does not govern upon arbitrary principles.
Hle calls upon us to consider the reasonableness of his requirements, and to judge if his ways are equal.
This theory arose from mistaking the ground and the
limits of positive enactments. These do not supersede the
essential right; they are founded upon it, and are intended to furnish and to sanction its details.
For instance, benevolence is right, irrespective of all
enactment. God's requiring it does not make it right;
he requires it because it is right.  Hence his law requiring us to love is not an arbitrary enactment, but is essentially right. It would be just as right as it now is, if it
came from any other source. On the other hand, we cannot conceive of a law, by whomsoever enacted, that could
make it right for us to be malicious.
"Our notions of right and wrong are so far from owing
their authority to positive institutions, that they afford us
the chief standard to which we appeal in comparing different positive institutions with each other. Were it not for
282 
NATURAL PRINCIPLES OF MORALITY.
this test, how could we pronounce one code to be more
humane, more liberal, or more equitable than another?
Or how could we feel that, in our municipal regulations,
some are consonant and others repugnant to the principles of justice?" *
THE GREATEST HAPPINESS THEORY.
Some have supposed that nothing is right in itself but
that whatever is right, is so, because it promotes the highest welfare. Virtue is only a means to an end. Our way
to learn the divine will respecting an action, is to inquire whether it tends to promote the general happiness.
"We conclude," says Dr. Paley, " that God wills and
wishes the happiness of his creatures. And this conclusion being once established, we are at liberty to go on
with the rule built upon it, namely, that the method of
coming at the will of God concerning any action, by the
light of nature, is, to inquire into the tendentcy of that action to promote or diminish the general happiness."
"So, then, actions are to be estimated by their tendency. It is the utility of any moral rule alone, which
constitutes the obligation of it. Whatever is expedient
is right. But then it must be expedient on the whole,
at the long run, in all its effects, collateral and remote,
as well as in those which are immediate and direct;
as it is obvious, that, in computing consequences, it
makes no difference in what way or at what distance
they ensue."
In this view, the only difference between an act of
prudence and an act of moral and religious duty is this,
" that in the one case we consider what we shall gain or
* Stewart, p. 183.
283 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
lose in the present world; and in the other case, we consider also what we shall gain or lose in the world to
come." *
Morality, then, is prudence embracing our temporal
welfare; religion is prudence projected into eternity.
To admit " that God wills and wishes the happiness of
his creatures," is only admitting that he is a benevolent
being; but it does not follow that there is no such thing
as moral virtue, which is a good in itself, and which a
wise and righteous benevolence would not fail to regard.
But it is said that virtue "is not an ultmate good,"
that it is good only as a means to the end, happiness. To
this I reply, that, so far as we know, all things and events
in the phenomenal universe are followed by others, to which
they sustain some relation of cause or means, and thus the
affairs of the universe move on in endless succession. It
is the glory of God to make all present things and events
subservient to others, and these again to others; thus for
ever augmenting the riches of the universe, by allowing
nothing to be unproductive.
But we may in this relation speak of a chief end more
understandingly; and to that end may be attached various
degrees of importance. One man's chief end in going a
journey may be health, another's lleasure. There may be
a question as to which is the most valued, but the same
man may desire and seek each, both as a good in itself
and as a means to the other.
It is manifest that God does make our happiness, as
well as our suffering, a means of promoting our moral
welfare; and also that he makes our morality a means of
happiness. He must, therefore, value both character and
happiness, each for itself and for the good of which it is the
means; whilst, as a benevolent being, he cannot be sup
* Paley's Moral Phil., B. II. Ch. 3.
284 
NATURAL PRINCIPLES OF MORALITY.
posed to put any value whatever upon suffering, which
is always in itself an evil, except as it is a means to some
good end.
Hence right character and happiness must ever coincide. The truly upright man cannot fail to be on the
way to the highest happiness. But while God always
sees the relation of the one to the other, we cannot; and
hence, if we must decide upon the moral quality of an act
only by its perceived tendency to happiness, we should
often be in a fearful dilemma. There would be a sad defect in the system of moral government.
But no such defect exists; we are in no such dilemma.
Uprightness is uprightness; it is right in itself, and may
often be distinctly known as such, irrespective of all conse.
quences. Neither is a right act a bargain for happiness; it
is prompted by a supreme and direct regard to what is intrinsically good.
At the same time, it is impossible for us not to desire
happiness; for this desire, as we have seen, is a part of
our nature. If, therefore, while conscience impels us to
the right, we were not at the same time assured that uprightness tends to happiness, there would be a strange incongruity in our constitution. The law of a pure instinct
and the law of a good conscience would be at war with
each other.  But no such incongruity exists.  The satisfaction imparted by conscience in the performance of
duty, even at the greatest sacrifice, is itself an earnest of
future good, and our assurance that the path of duty
leads to happiness.
"Since happiness is necessarily the supreme object of
our desires," says Whewell, "and duty the supreme rule
of our actions, there can be no harmony in our being, except our happiness coincide with our duty. That which
we contemplate as the ultimate and universal object of
285 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
desire, must be identical with that which we contemplate
as the ultimate and supreme guide of our intentions. As
moral beings, our happiness must be found in our moral
progress, and in consequence of our moral progress. We
must be happy by being virtuous." *
While the cardinal virtues of benevolence, justice,
gratitude, &c., may be known as morally excellent, irrespective of consequences, there are others, as we shall
hereafter see, whose character we learn either by their
perceived tendencies, or by the positive institutions and
teachings of Christianity.
THE HIGHEST GOOD THEORY.
The advocates of this theory maintain that the highest
good is the ultimate rule of right. All else must be made
subservient to this. They have only to ascertain what
the highest good is. With this view they institute a coinparison between the relative claims of our lower and our
higher faculties.
Our attention is first directed to the demands of appetite. These must be regarded; and the means of their
gratification is a good in relation to this particular interest.
From this inferior good we ascend to that of rational
art, of sentinent and taste. Here is no craving of appetite
to be satiated, but the feelings rest with complacent delight in the contemplation of their object. This is an intrinsic and dignified good.
We next consider the cultivation of science. Here the
human intellect comes to commune with the divine, in
apprehending the laws of nature, and conversing with
those primordial ideas which guided the great Architect
in constructing the universe. This, again, is a very noblo
and exalted good.
* Whewell's Elements, Vol. I. p. 385.
286 
NATURAL PRINCIPLES OF MORALITY.
But over and above these is still another, the highest
good of all; it is worthine8ss of spiritual approbation.
Here, then, is found the ultimate rule of right; the law
supreme, at whose bidding all other demands must yield.
"We may call this the imperative of reason, the constraint
of conscience, or the voice of God within him; but by
whatever term expressed, the real meaning will be, that
every man has consciously the bond upon him to do that,
and that only, whch i s due to his spiritual exeellency."" To be thus worthy of spiritual approbation is the end of
all ends."*
This beautiful theory assigns the true relative importance to the several demands of our lower and higher
faculties, enthroning the enlightened conscience in supreme authority over them all.  But whether the desire
of simplification, so characteristic of original, theorizing
thinkers, may not have had undue influence in framing it,
is perhaps a fair question.
That every man is bound "to do that, and that only,
which is due to his spiritual excellency," is a first maxim
in morals. But whether we are always to put our minds
in the reflex position to find our duty, and to act with a
view to " worthiness of spiritual approbation," as " the end
of all ends,'" may be reasonably doubted. In our noblest
and best acts, and especially in our loftiest religious homage, we are almost wholly objective. We lose sight of
ourselves, and of regard to our personal excellency and
worthiness of approbation. Our thoughts and desires are
outward and right onward to their object, whether it be
the welfare of a fellow-being, or the glory of God. That
we could not rightfully seek the welfare of men or the
glory of God, in a way inconsistent with our spiritual ex
* Hickok's Moral Science, pp. 48, 49.
287 
MORAL PHILOSOPEY.
cellency, or even without promoting it, is very certain.
We glorify God when we reflect his character, and we
reflect his character by being and doing good, like him.
The difficulty with this theory is the one usually inherent
in attempts at great simplification. Such attempts are
wont to leave some facts unprovided for.
To make my meaning clear, let us suppose a man to
be a believer in God, and in the Bible as his revelation to
us.  What ought that man to regard as "the end of all
ends," or, in other words, the ultimate object of his being?
Answer. To glorify God and enjoy him for ever. By
what means can he do this?  Answer. By being, in his
humble sphere and capacity, like God in character. By
what rules can he become so? Answer. By those furnished in the Bible. Here we have three distinct things,
the man's object, his means to it, and his guide.
I have said above, with the Assembly's Catechism,
that man's chief end is to glorify God and enjoy him for
ever, because the one implies the other. It is impossible
to be like God in character, without enjoying him; and it
is impossible to enjoy him, without being like him. When,
therefore, we seek to glorify God as our ultimate moral
end, by becoming in character like him, we at the same
time act in accordance with our highest rational nsttinct,
which is an aspiration or desire to be for ever happy. It
has been previously shown that we ought not to attempt
to extinguish or repress our natural desires, but to direct
them in obedience to moral law. There is no moral excellence in merely seeking our happiness, but there is
moral excellence in doing that, namely, glorifying God,
in the doing of which our happiness is involved. Hence,
our true end of all ends, morally, is the glory of God;
whilst our end of all ends, instiTnctively, is our highest
happiness; and, as our moral and instinctive being was
288 
NATURAL PRINCIPLES OF MORALITY.
never designed to be separated, so our duty and happiness
must be eternally united.
But if man ignores his relation to God, the case is materially altered. Two of the above three things are then
to him wanting, namely, his objective object, which is the
glory of God, and his objective guide, which is the Bible.
There remains to him only one of the three things, namely,
his personal worthiness, which becomes both his object
and guide. All is merged into this. It follows, in such
a case, that "in personal worthiness, as the end of all
action, every claim centres; and in the attainment and
preservation of this, all imperatives are satisfied;" also,
that the man " is a law to himself, and has both the
judge and executioner within him and inseparable from
him." *
But we have seen that pure morality embraces all
intrinsic obligations. If, then, man is aware of the existence of God as revealed in the Bible, he is morally bound
to render to him supreme homage. His obligations to
God involve as _pure morality, as his obligations to himself
and to his fellow-beings do. He ought to make the glory
of God his supreme object, even if no positive authority
enjoined it. The bond precedes the command. The
command of God does not snake it right; he commands it
because it i8 right. Morality alone as much binds him to
glorify God in his spirit and in his body which are his, as
it does to pay his just debts to his neighbor. This prior
obligation Christianity assumes.  It is precisely here that
morality and religion unite and become one. Morality
according with religion, and religion heightening and intensifying morality, they thus present man's entire lesson
of obligation, both as a moral and religious being.
* Hickok's Moral Science, pp. 48, 65.
13
289 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
In this view, the following position seems to me to be
wrong end frst.  "The existence of God being apprehended," &c., "we need only to know our spiritual communication with him, and for our own worthiness' sake
there immediately arises the consciousness of moral obligation." *  Instead of our obligation's arising "for our
own worthiness' sake," we are under prior obligation of
spiritual worthiness for the sake of glorifying God. Instead of making our own worthiness the end of the means,
we should make it the means of the end.
It is with much self-distrust that I dissent, in any particular, from the views of so able an author as the one
above cited. But it seems to me that we are driven to
this dilemma, and must hang upon one or the other of its
horns. A man may make either the glory of God, or selfworthiness, his final object, but he cannot do both. If his
ultimate object is the former, it is not the latter; and if it
is the latter, it is not the former. The one must be means
to the other. Hiis aim must be ultimately God-wise, or
self-wise.
If it be said that to inculcate the glory of God as man's
object, is to travel out of our sphere as mere philosophers,
and to teach religion instead of pure morality, I must
again say, that what we here teach is morality and religion too; otherwise, pure morality, as an intrinsic obligation, and pure religion, as positively enjoined, are not only
in this respect distinct, but they are opposed to each other.
THE SUBJECTIVE THEORY.
The most objectionable form of this theory was advocated by some of the Grecian sophists, and subsequently
by IHume and other skeptical writers. It maintains that
* Hickok's Moral Science, p. 147.
290 
NATURAL PRINCIPLES OF MORALITY.
all virtue and all vice are such, only as they are so conceived and regarded by the human mind.
This is the same notion in respect to moral science
with that in respect to natural science, which denies the
existence of objective beauty or deformity in material
objects. In this view a Venus is in herself no more beautiful than a porcupine. We have a certain impression in
regard to the one which we have not in regard to the
other, and this constitutes the whole of beauty.  In like
manner this theory maintains, that there is no objective
difference between what we call a good and a bad action;
all the difference being in our minds.
" The words right and wrong, signify nothing in the
objects themselves to which they are applied, any more than
the words sweet and bitter, pleasant and painful, but only
certain effects in the mind of the spectator. Protagoras
and his followers extended it to all truths, physical as well
as moral, and maintained that every thing was relative to
perception. The following maxims in particular have a
wonderful coincidence with Hume's philosophy. "1Nothing is true or false, any more than sweet or sour, in
itself, but relatively to the perceiving mind."  " Man is
the measure of all things, and every thing is that, and no
other, which to every one it seems to be, so that there can
be nothing true, nothing existent, distinct from the mind's
own perceptions." *
"Were I not afraid of appearing too philosophical,"
continues Stewart, in animadverting upon this theory, " I
should remind my reader of the famous doctrine supposed
to be fully proved in modern times, that tastes and colors
and all other sensible qualities lie not in bodies, but
merely in the senses. The same is the case with beauty
and deformity, virtue and vice." t
* Hume's Essay, Part I.
291
f Stewart, p. 193. 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
This scheme mistakes the true function of our rational
powers. They are not literally to be our rule of duty, but
to enable us to learn it. When we speak understandingly
of "the law of conscience," we mean the law which conscience ctproves and enforces.  But this scheme virtually
leaves every man to do what is right in his own eyes,
regardless of the teachings and admonitions of both God
and man. Man is not, in this view, a learner, but is himself lawgiver and judge.
It is a curious illustration of the remark that extremes
sometimes meet, to find the sensational Hume, on the one
hand, uniting with the advocate of the infallible moral
sense, or inward light; on the other, in dispensing with
the necessity of a revelation from God.
A less objectionable view, is that maintained by Jacobi
and other German philosophers, and also by (DCudworth,
and, with some modifications, by Coleridge and his followers. In this view, right and wrong are objective entities, but they are directly apprehended by the eye of
reason as abstract truths. The general doctrine of an
immediate abstract intuition of first truths, seems also to
have been maintained by Kant, and subsequently to have
been by him relinquished or modified. For this, Jacobi
charges him with inconsistency. " The Critical philosophy," he says, "first out of love to science, theoretically
subverts metaphysic; then, when all is about to sink into
the yawning abyss of an absolute subjectivity, it again,
out of love to metaphysic, subverts science."*
The advocates of this view hold, that from the bright
domain of the pure reason, the senses, and all knowledge
received by them, stand apart from us, while the clear
* Works, voL II., p. 44. See also Hamilton's Phil. of Common Sense,
p. 136.
292 
NATURAL PRICIPLES OF MORALITY.
eye of intuition directly perceives the eternal principles
of right. Their rightfulness is not seen in the concrete,
and depends upon no relations and contingencies; it is
seen of itself, in pure abstraction, as an essential and absolute entity. The ought is thus safely lodged, a~riori, in
the reason of every individual.
Objections to this theory will appear in the subsequent
chapter, in which we shall endeavor to view the whole
subject in as clear a light as possible, regardless of all
theories, and appealing directly to human consciousness.
293 
CHAPTER II.
FIRST PRINCIPLES.
WE have seen that the desire to simplify has induced
philosophers to attempt to resolve all the principles of
morality into one simple law of right. But when that law
is found, or supposed to be found, it is proved to be made
up of several elements. Thus the law of love, which is
all-embracing, is not simple, but complex.
The same attempts at simplification have been made
in natural science.  Men have endeavored to refer all the
phenomena of nature to one law; but their law proves to
be a compound of several.
The truth is, the Creator seems to have had more than
one idea, in both the natural and the moral creation; and
while the ideas in each are in perfect harmony, we vainly
attempt, in either case, to resolve them into a simple
unity.
Still all the works of God are characterized by great
and even amazing simplicity, when we contemplate their
extent; and the wonder is, not that the original ideas in
reference to which they are constituted are so mnany, but
that they are so few. It is our present object to ascertain 
NATURAL PRINCIPLES OF MORALITY.
these few elementary ideas, or first principles, as they are
found in the moral world. To make my view the clearer,
as well as to confirm it by analogy, let us briefly refer to
other departments of science.
The science of mathematics has its first principles, and
erects its entire superstructure upon them.   They  are
familiar to all educated minds. The axioms of geometry
are not made what they are by any ordinance, either human or divine; they are the exponents of truths that are
essential and everlasting.
The science of nature has also its first principles. Until the student of nature begins to apprehend them, he
makes no scientific progress. Hie may observe individual
facts, but he cannot interpret them.  Like the printer's
types when thrown into pi, they lie in confusion around
him, until he sees the princples which bring order out of
chaos.
It is evident that the universe was constructed, so to
speak, upon scientific principles; for it is by the use of
mathematical truths and calculations that we are enabled
to study it, and to calculate its movements. Did matter
attract and repel at random, or the heavenly bodies move
irrespective of certain first principles, there could be no
science of nature.
So also the science of morals has its first principles.
As in the previous sciences, so in this also, they are the
product of no creative power. They are absolute and
essential. The mental states and exercises indicated by
the terms benevolence, gratitude, justice, &c., are conformity to principles absolutely right. Nothing can make
them otherwise. The moral philosopher must apprehend
these principles, and build his science upon them.
295 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
HOW FIRST PRINCIPLES ARE KNOWN.
All sciences, then, have their first principles, to which
the human mind is constitutionally adapted. Thus the
whole system of the universe, both natural and moral, was
made to be a 81Stdy for rational minds; and the minds are
constituted with powers precisely adapted to the study,
both in the principles and the systematic completion of
every science.* The child has seen that the whole of an
apple, or of any thing else, is more than half of it; that
* The simple fact of the analogy of the subject and object, that is, of the
mind of man and the universe without him, is all that is here asserted. Attempting to go beyond the fact, as known only so far as it is affirmed by the
actual study of nature, has led to many ingenious and brilliant a priori speculations, and sometimes to those which are absurd and mischievous. They
have even subverted the first truths of science itself, denied the testimony of
consciousness, annihilated the objective universe, and resolved all into a solitary subjectivity.
"Some philosophers (as Anaxagoras, Heraclitus, Alcmoeon,) maintained
that knowledge implied even a contrariety of subject and object.  But since the
time of Empedocles, no opinion has been more universally admitted, than that
the relation of knowledge inferred the analogy of existence.  This analogy may
be supposed in two potencies. What knows and what is known, are either,
]st, similar, or, 2d, the same: and if the general principle be true, the latter is
the more philosophical. This principle it was, which immediately determined
the whole doctrine of a representative perception. Its lower potence is seen
in the intentional species of the schools, and in the ideas of Malebranche and
Berkeley; its higher, in the gnostic reasons of the Platonists, in the pre-existing species of Avicenna and the Arabians, in the ideas of Descartes and Leibnitz, in the phenomena of Kant, and in the external states of Dr. Brown. It
mediately determines the hierarchical gradation offaculties or sonls of the Aristotelians; the vehicular media of the Platonists; the theories of a common intellect
of Alexander, Themistius, Averroes, Cajetanus, and Zabarella; the vision in the
Deity of Malebranche; and the Cartesian and Leibnitzian doctrines of assistance
and predetermined harmony. To no other origin is to be ascribed the refusal of
the fiwt of consciousness in its primitive deality; and the unitarian systems of
identity, materialism, idealism, are the result."-Hamilton's Phil. of Perception,
p. 189.
296 
NATURAL PRINCIPLES OF MORALITY.
the two halves put together are equal to the whole; that
halves of the same or equal things are equal to each other;
that what is round cannot coincide with what is square,
and so on. Thus, long before he begins to study mathematics as a science, he comes into possession of its primary
truths.
You have then only to embody these truths in distinct
statements, or axioms, and his mind at once admits them.
Hle now perceives them, not merely in the individual facts
which he has witnessed, but as indicating absolute and
qniversal truths.  He thus comes to a clear and unquestioning recognition of those abstract principles of mathematics, which are equally applicable in all places and for
ever.
We proceed to natural science.  It was by the observation of individual facts, that its principles became
known. It was by observing the descent of an apple from
thie tree to the ground, by measuring the accelerated speed
of a falling body, by observing and computing the movements of a revolving sphere, and so onl, that those ung;versal truths were apprehended upon which the science of
nature rests. The universality of these truths is learned
by induction, but, like the principles of mathematics, they
come of the observation of facts. They are all first learned
in the concrete.
We advance next to mnoral science. The child has no
intuition of the abstract principles of right and wrong,
until he witnesses an act of kindness, or of fidelity, or of
gratitude; he then instantly perceives and feels that what
he witnesses is a good act. Hle witnesses an act of unkindness, of treachery, of ingratitude; he instantly perceives and feels that what he witnesses is a bad act. He
does not need to stop and reason upon these acts, or to survey their consequences, before he decides upon them; he
13*
297 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
knows at once, that the former are right and the latter
wrong. Here, then, is an intuitive perception and a feeling of conscience, by which a rational moral judgment is
passed upon those acts.*
Nor is it needful that these acts be directed towards
the child himself. This might heighten his emotions and
thus intensify his moral judgment, but it would not change
its nature.
In this way, long before the child comes to study moral
science, he becomes possessed of its elements. What then
remains to be done? He has only to exercise that power
of generalization, with which rational beings are endowed,
and, in the right and the wrong of the particular acts
which he has witnessed, he recognizes the princi8es,
which stamp the same character upon all similar acts.
Consequently, when, in after life, he enters upon the
study of moral science, he only needs to have its first
principles clearly stated to him, and he as readily assents
to them as to the axioms of geometry. Proof is no more
required in the one case than in the other. To go behind
* This, it seems to me, is all that Descartes and other intelligent advocates
of innate ideas could have really intended. The first principles of every science
are iminate, or native to the mind, only in the sense that such is its nature, that
it directly intuits them, a priori, as necessary and absolute truthis, independently
of the affirmations of sense, experience, or any discursive proof.
The confusion and misapprehension here between authors seem to arise,
mostly, from their not distinguishing between the perception and the proof of
the principles in question. The principles are first perceived in the concrete;
and therefore we are dependent upon the senses for being put in relation to
them; but their proof is in themselves, being intuitively perceived by the mind
the moment it apprehends them. These principles are the elements of all our
systematic knowledge, in every department of science.
"Such elements, however, are obtained only by a process of sundering and
abstraction. In actual or concrete thinking, there is given nothing pure; the
native and foreign, the a priori and a posteriori, are there presented in mutual
fusion."-Hamilton's Phil. Corn. Sense.
298 
NATURAL PRINCIPLES OF MORALITY.
the simple statement of the principles, with a view to
establishing their truth, is just throwing arguments away
in an attempt to prove what is proved already.
To speculate upon their beauty, their fitness, their utility, their relation to the highest happiness or the highest
good, or their innate existence in the mind, in order to
prove their truth and importance, is like lighting candles
at blazing noon to help the sun. The mind was made for
them.  It was made to perceive, feel, know them, with a
clearness and certainty that put all argument at defiance,
and laugh all speculations to scorn.
If there is any thing that man knows beyond all possible question, it is, that benevolence is good and malice
evil, that justice and gratitude are right, and ingratitude
and injustice wrong, and other such moral truths; and he
knows them to be universally and una7lterably so.  The
place for the man who does not know this is not in the
lectuLre-room, nor in rational society, but in the mad-house.
PRINCIPLES AND MORAL VIRTUES.
Principles, then, considered as reasons and rules of
conduct, are objective; moral virtues are subjective.  We
perceive and adopt principles; we approve and practise
virtues. First principles in morals are universal rules of
conduct, having their reason or authority in themselves;
actions conformed to them are cardinal virtues. The
principles are essentially and perfectly reasonable and
just, under all possible circumstances; actions are more
or less what they should be, according to their degree of
conformity with the principles.
Moral virtues are related to their objective principles,
as the diagrams upon the blackboard are to the mathematical principles which they represent. The diagrams
299 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
are made by man; the principles are eternal. The lines,
circles, angles, are themselves imperfect; but they represent perfect ideas. All human virtues are imperfect; the
principles of morality are perfect. All human virtues
have degrees; the principles of morality have no degrees.
The ultimate principles of moral right, are the primary
and essential elements of God's comprehensive and everlasting law.
Sorte men have been able to carry on extensive mathematical calculations, without the aid of figures and diagrams.  From this it has been inferred, that the mind
apprehends its first truths in the abstract. Such were the
views of Jacobi, Cudworth, Coleridge, and other transcendentalists. But the men supposed, did not carry on
the calculations in question, until they had learned the
first principles in the concrete.
Every child takes his first lesson in morals, when he
intelligently sees the first right or wrong action; but he
does not study morality as a science, until he begins to
make a systematic and universal application of its principles.
GROUNDS IN WHICH PRINCIPLES ARE APPREHENDED.
Let us begin with the lower demands of our nature,
the cravings of appetite. These demands must be met in
some way, and there is a right way and a wrong one,
between which we must choose.
We first notice the appetite forfood and drink. Every
person readily sees that its leading object is his healthful
nourishment. Whatever pleasure there may be in its
gratification, is obviously designed to be subservient to
this object. To sacrifice this object to a mere lust of
pleasure, is morally wrong; but to rule the appetite with
faithful reference to the end for which it was given, is
300 
NATURAL PRINCIPLES OF MORALITY.
morally right. Man knows this, as well as he knows the
truth of an axiom.  He thus knows the princi2e by which
he ought to govern this appetite. Obedience to it is the
virtue of Temperance.
len may differ respecting the kind, quality, and amount
of nourishment best for them.   These things are not
learned by intuitive perception; they depend upon circumstanices, and must be learned by experience. But this
does not affect the principle, nor the obligation to obey it.
Instance next the appetite of the sex. This appetite
was manifestly designed to be ever subordinate to the
healthful continuance and welfare of the race. And the
more effectually to guard this end, the Creator has implanted a sort of higher instinct, a feeling of modesty,
which all have by nature, and which only vicious influences can resist.  HIere again the right _prnciple is obvious.  Obedience to it is the virtue of Chastity.
We come next to the feelings of afection, desire, and
evaotion.  The demands of these are scarcely less imperious than those of appetite. We were made to love and
to desire, as truly as to eat and drink.  The former is as
needful to the soul as the latter is to the body.   And all
may see that we ought to control our affections and desires,
as well as our appetites.   Also the emotions attending
them, however valuable when in due subjection, become
terribly disastrous when unrestrained. All men know
that it is wrong to allow their passions to master them.
Now we have seen that there are two opposite kinds
of moral affection, that of love, kindness, good will to all
men, and that of hatred, selfishness, envy.   Every man
knows the former to be right, and the latter to be wrong.
Hie needs no argument to prove it; the truth flashes upon
his mind by intuition, like the truth of an axiom. iHe
has only to think upon them, and the knowledge is his;
301 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
the rule of duty is present to his mind.  iHe is thus furnished with the principle.   Obedience to it is the virtue
of Benevolence.   This virtue is in the Scriptures termed
love and charity. These terms are there used in the most
comprehensive sense, including our obligations to God as
well as man.
Every man sees that others have claims to be regarded as well as he. Even the child has his own things.
What these are, whether they are his character, his person,
his possessions, or how he came by them, is not material.
It is enough that they are  s.  The fact that they are his,
gives him a right to them which no other person has.
iHe perceives that others, too, have their own things;
and that for the same reason why he has a right to its,
they have a right to theirs. Along with this perception,
he has also a feeling, that he ought to regard the rights of
others as well as his own.  Such is the principle which
his conscience enjoins. Obedience to it is the virtue of
justice.
IJe listens at one time to what he knows to be intentional truth; at another to what he knows to be intentional falsehood.  IIe perceives the difference between
them, and his conscience admonishes him that the former
is right and the latter wrong. iHe does not decide upon
the rightfulness of truth from its perceived utillty; for
long before he reflects upon its advantages to society, and
perhaps even while perceiving some immediate personal
advantage from it, his conscience decides that it is right
in itsef.  Thus conscience furnishes him with the principle of duty.  Obedience to it is the virtue of Veracity.
iHe becomes early acquainted with promises. iHe
gives and receives them. The parent makes promises to
his child; the child makes them to the parent. They are
often exchanged between the child and his companions.
302 
NATURAL PRINCIPLES OF MORALITY.
He understands their meaning, and he knows that he
ought to keep them.   Questions as to how they may be
affected by circumstances, as in case of being extorted by
force, do not affect the obligation to be faithful to every
free and reasonable promise.   Conscience informs him
that he ought to do as he has agreed to do.   Such is the
principle.  Obedience to it is the virtue of Faithfulness.
Every man witnesses the reception of favors.  Children receive support from their parents, and instruction
from their teachers. In sickness and affliction, we receive
the sympathy and attentions of our friends. In want and
in danger we have been relieved by those upon whom we
had no legal claim. All men know that such favors impose obligation. It may not be in our power to return
favor for favor; but we can exercise and manifest an appropriate feeling. This we are bound to do. Such is the
principle of obligation universally admitted. Obedience
to it is the virtue of Gratitude.
Hie who practises all the above virtues, escapes the
censure of the civil law, and passes for a good moral man.
Hle fulfils his duties to himself and to his fellow-men, as
related to this world.  But the question of his relation to
the Being who made him, and to another world, is also to
be considered.  He has also some higher endowments to
be regarded, for the use of which he is responsible.
He has a class of feelings which realize their end in
the pleasing contemplation of their objects.  These feelings are termed sentiment.  In fulfilling their demands,
he both seeks for the pleasing objects actually existing in
nature, and also forms ideal ones in his mind. Hie also
seeks to embody his ideal forms in works of art; and
both by copying nature, and by furnishing the additional
adornments of genius and fancy, to enhance the means of
enjoyment.
303 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
Hence painting, sculpture, architecture, ornamental
gardening; also the embellishments of furniture, dress,
equipage; all those pleasing arts which give elegance
to civilized life. Such works are related to the sentiment
of taste; and are as truly adapted to meet a demand of our
ratonal nature, as food and drink are to meet a demand
of the body, or as the moral affections are to meet a demand of our social nature.
This sentiment, duly exercised, tends to elevate man
above the gross pleasures of the mere animal.   Not only
in the drawing-room, the picture-gallery, the garden, but
even at the festive board, it subjects the grossness of mere
sensual indulgence to the more delicate and refined banquet of the soul. But the fact that it elevates and refines,
does not exonerate it from the necessity of being subject
to moral rule. Rightly ruled, it becomes auxiliary to the
highest virtues of morality and religion; not thus ruled,
it becomes as subservient to vice as any other feeling.
The fine arts, refining and ennobling as they are, have
yet often been prostituted to base purposes.
We have also the thirst for knowledge to be regarded.
It is well to gratify this craving. IHe is scarcely worthy
to be called man, who never aspires after knowledge for
its own sake. To feel the conscious ability to master difficulties in the pursuits of literature and science, to realize
the satisfaction of comprehending the sublime laws of nature, and the dignity of holding communion with those
eternal truths to which they relate, is a privilege and an
honor worthy of a rational mind.
But is this the end of intellectual pursuits? Is this all
that intellect was given us for? Was man made intellectual only to please himself in gratifying his thirst for
knowledge? No more than he was made animal, only to
please himself in gratifying the desires of appetite. The
304 
NATURAL PRINCIPLES OF MORALITY.
former gratification may be more digndied than the latter,
but it may be also none the freer from the vice of selfishness. Every man knows this, or may know it. HIe knows
that his intellect was given, to teach him what he is to
believe and to do, as an accountable being; to solve the
problem of his obligations and destinies. Hie may pervert and abuse the gift of intellect, as truly as any other.
Hie is therefore bound by his conscience to be ever searching after truth, to be open to conviction, and to be faithful in the performance of every known duty.
All of the above virtues are binding upon the atheist,
as well as upon the theist. The question now is, Is the
atheist bound to believe in the existence of God, and to
do him homage?  Hle may have no intuitive perception
of the divine existence. But God has revealed himself
so clearly in his works, that man has only to contemplate
them, with a Amind open to conviction, to see the evidence
of " his eternal power and Godhead;" so that he is " without excuse " for not admitting his existence.   Moreover,
the feeling of woral obligation, and the conscious reaching
of the soul after its object, forbids all repose until that
object is recognized and admitted. Thus the evidence
furnished in the constitution of the soul itself, unites with
that furnished by objective nature, to prove that there is
and must be a God of infinite natural and moral perfections.
Hence, if men are "without God in the world," it is
because "they do not like to retain Aim in their knowledge."
Although "the fool hath said in his heart, No God," his
conscience, enlightened by a single flash from the glorious
face of creation, declares loudly against him. When he
thus perceives the evidence of the existence and perfections of God, his conscience exalts and intensifies this perception, and unfailingly admonishes him to render to that
305 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
glorious and Supreme  Being his sacred  and supreme
homage.
The evidence for the divine existence being so obvious,
and so closely related to the first acts of conscience, all
pagan nations have, t fact, ideas of God; and, the more
virtuous the people are, the nearer they approach to just
views of his character. However men may differ in opinions respecting the mode of his existence, or the form of
service most acceptable to him, they cannot innocently
fail to know, that they ought to render to him their supreme homage; that they are bound to rule not only their
appetites and affections, but all their tastes, sentiments,
and intellectual aspirations, with a supreme regard to his
pleasure.  Such is the 1rinciple enjoined by conscience;
obedience to it is leligion.  This is natural religion, or
the religion ofvure morality.
We thus see that piety to God is both a moral and a
religious duty. To withhold from him our homage is, in
the mere light of nature, a moral wrong, as truly as it is
to withhold an act of justice or of gratitude due to a fellow-being.
THE ABOVE OBLIGATIONS UNIVERSAL.
We have thus specified the first principles of virtue
and morality, and have shown how the mind comes to the
knowledge of them. The duties they enjoin are temperance, chastity, benevolence, justice, veracity, faithfulness,
gratitude, piety. The list of terms might be extended to
include such as charity, forbearance, kindness, &c.; but
their meaning is all comprised inuthe above. The duties
which we have considered cover the entire field of morality, as surveyed by reason and conscience unaided by
experience and by revelation.
They are binding upon all men, Pagans, Mahometans,
306 
NATURAL PRINCIPLES OF MORALITY.
Jews, as well as Christians. For Christianity did not create
the human mind, nor endow it with reason and conscience;
neither did it originate the first principles of morality.
It recognizes, sanctions, and enforces the principles taught
by nature; it also enriches them with other and higher
principles and motives; thus augmenting the responsibility of those to whom it is given, without diminishing
the responsibility of those who are without it.
If we have correctly stated the first principles of
morality, and the way by which they may be known, all
men can know them, and, knowing them, oug/t to obey
them.  They are "written in their hearts," approved by
their "consciences," and are the ruiles which righteous
judgment must eternally approve. *
* The critical student or curious reader, who is desirous of consulting
authors respecting the first principles of knowledge, and of duty, is referred to
the following works, most of which are in the Astor Library, New York.
Plato, (Euvres completes, traduite par V. Cousin; also Eng. Loud. Ed. especially Vol. I. Crito and Phoedo. Malebranche, Recherche de la Verit6, and
Trait6 de Moral. Descartes, Lux Naturce. Leibnitz, Nouveaux Essais. Buffier, Traite6 des Premiers Verites. Wollaston, Religion of Nature Delineated,
p. 25. D'Alembert, who says that teaching first principles is only reminding one
of what he previouslyknew. Beattie, Essay on Truth, p. 25. Kant, Critique of
Pure Reason, and Jacobi's strictures upon it, and exposition of the distinction
between Sense, as teaching us corporeal and conditioned existences, and Reason
(Vernunft), as teaching us supersensible truths. These last he terms revelations, intuitions, &c. Bishop R. D. Hampden, Lectures on Moral Phil., p. 40.
Hartley, Theory of the Human Mind. Mackintosh, Ethical Phil. George
Moore, M.D., Man and his Motives; also, Power of the Soul and Use of the
Body, p. 40. Sydney Smith, Elementary Sketches of Moral Phil. Cudworth,
Intel. System. V. Cousin, especially his translation of Descartes' Discour de
la Methode pour bien conduire la Raison. G. W. F. Hegel, Werke Vollstiindigt Ausgabe. Schelling, Philosophische Schriften; especially his System des
Transcendentalen Idealismus. J. Mill, Phenomena of the Human Mind.
Lord Herbert, De Veritate. Sir William Hamilton, Phil. of Common Sense,
p. 19. Locke, Essay, b. I., p. 20. Other authors upon the same subject, to
whom I have referred elsewhere, are in most libraries, and are familiar to the
general student
The point to which I would invite particular attention, is the remarkable
307 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
GENERAL INDEX TO OUR VIEWS.
Ile who is temperate, chaste, honest, well-behaved,
from mere prudential considerations, or any others not
involving regard to duty, or what is morally right, is, in
the vulgar sense, a virtuous man.
He who is conscientious in his conduct, acting upon
principles of social honor and integrity as involved in duty;
but only as the duty respects himself and his fellow-beings,
is, in the same sense as above, a moral man.
Hie who is conscientious in his conduct, acting upon
principles of all honor and integrity as involved in duty,
not merely as the duty respects himself and his fellowbeings, but, over and above all, his GOD, iS a religious
man.
The antithetic terms are: virtue and vice; morality
and crime; piety and sin. And as the so called virtues,
in the vulgar sense, may be merelyprudential, we sometimes designate those which are practised from regard to
d-ty, as moral virtues.
We thus have the following: constitution, virtue, morality, religion; each and all of the _preceding being included in the succeeding. Instinct is minor to virtue,
virtue to morality, and morality to religion. A person
cannot be virtuous without instinct, nor moral without
virtue, nor religious without morality. Hie may have the
agreement among all these authors, as to the existence, the nature, and the claim
of these first principles. The main difference between the authors has respect
to the number and extent of the principles, and to the way by which the mind
comes to the knowledqe of them.  All ontological speculations respecting principles
supposed to be known otherwise than through the observation and study of the
phenoenal universe, will have more or less value with different minds, according to constitutional tendency and to education. Such speculations carry us
at once into those transcendent nebulous realms, where words grow tall and
bright, but thoughts become dwarfish and murky.
308 
NATURAL PRINCIPLES OF MORALITY.
less without the greater, but he cannot have the greater
without all the less. Religion is major to all; it is the
all-embracing excellence, which includes, perfects, and
adorns every other, and devotes it to the GLORY OF GOD as
the END OF ALL ENDS.
We thus see in what essentially consists the depravity
predicated of man in the Scriptures. It is not the loss of
all amiable instincts, nor of all secular virtue and morality,
but it is apostasy from  God.  It is being practically
"without God in the world."  And as the fall of man was
a fall from God, so the change wrought in him, by the
grace of the Gospel, is a restoration to God. Hiis restoration to God quickens, exalts, and guides all his instincts,
virtues and moralities, leading him to devote them all, in
newness of life, to the divine service.
As the absence of piety imperils all moralities, and
tends to their utter undoing; so true piety protects them
all, and tends to their ultimate peyfection. But this is
always a gradual work.  The evil begins  in departure
from God; the good begins in return to him.  From these
beginnings the good and the evil gradually increase. No
man becomes eminently good, and no man becomes a
reckless villain, at once. No man ascends to angelic excellence, and no man sinks to infernal wickedness, by a
single leap.
309 
CHAPTER III.
MORALITY TAUGHT BY EXPERIENCE.
EXPERIENCE reaffirms all that reason and conscience assert,
and besides this, furnishes additional rules of duty.   It
was divinely intended to teach us what we ought to do, as
well as what is expedient for us.
We refer to the experience of mankind at large; not
merely to that which is personal. We are bound to take
lessons of duty from authentic history, from natural science,
from the admonitions of wise and good men, as well as
from our individual experience.
We learn duty from experience on the principle assumed by Paley, that "as God wills and wishes the happiness of his creatures," the moral quality of an action
may be known by its "tendency to promote or hinder the
general welfare." This is the method of ascertaining duty
only where the other fails.
Paley does not consider an action right, on the mere
ground that it promotes happiness. He is not so boldly
utilitarian. He considers it right, on the ground that,
because it promotes happiness, it is gnanifestly according
to the will of God.   He supposes that God "wills and 
NATURAL PRINCIPLES OF MORALITY.
wishes" our happiness, and hence that whatever promotes
it must be according to his will, and therefore right.
His error lies in taking what seems to be the tendency
of actions, as always indicating the divine will, instead of
directly apprehending the first principles of morality as
right in themselves, irrespective of all consequences.
Hence Stewart has well remarked, "If we could take into
due account the whole value of right principle, and the
whole happiness produced by virtuous feelings, we could
commit no practical error in making the advantageous
consequences of actions the measure of their morality.
But this can happen only by considering moral good as a
primary good, valuable for its own sake; not by supposing
that virtue is aimed at as subservient to some other purpose of more genuine utility; and no sagacity or fairness
of estimating useful consequences can stand as a substitute
for the love of right itself. It is true that honesty is the
best policy; but he who is honest only out of policy, does
not come up even to the vulgar notion of a virtuous man.
If a man were tempted by the opportunity of gaining a
large estate, through a safe but fraudulent proceeding, the
utilitarian scheme would seem to recommend him to
weigh both sides well, though it would direct him in conclusion to decide in favor of probity; but the common
judgment of mankind would hardly deem him honest, if
he hesitated at all." *
But if Paley erred on the one side, by positing the
entire cause of morality upon the utilitarian or greatest
happiness scheme, some have also erred on the other side,
by throwing the tendency of actions entirely out of the
account, and falling wholly back upon the supposed infallible decisions of what they call the moral sense. If the
* Active and Moral Powers, p. 409.
311 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
former error makes men too calculating and prudent, the
latter renders them self-willed and fanatical.
At any rate, too much forethought, and too prudent
regard to the consequences of our conduct, are not vices
of which the Bible loudly complains, nor for the prevalence of which we have any special cause of alarm at the
present time.
Fiat justitia, ruat ca3lum,* is a maxim of undoubted
soundness, but there are more ways than one, by which
we are to determine what the "justitia" is.
THE QUALITY OF ACTIONS LEARNED BY EXPERIENCE.
The pain attending injuries inflicted upon our persons
is an indication that it is wrong to inflict them, and an
admonition to us not to do it. To cut, burn, or bruise the
flesh; to contract or distort the figure, for the gratification
of vanity; needless exposure to sickness, perils, or undue
severities; all violations of natural laws, as related to
health and vigor; are clearly contrary to the will of God,
because they tend to produce pain and death, where he
designed happiness and life. It is sufficient to condemn
them, that they are violations of natural law; but it is by
their tendencies that we know they are such violations.
Needlessly to extract a tooth or amputate a limb, is a
violation of natural law; but if the member is so diseased
that general experience has proved its removal promotive
of health and comfort, the act of removing it ceases to be
any such violation, and becomes morally right.
In the same way we are to decide respecting the use
of intoxicating drinks or of opium. We have no instinct
to guide us, as the brute is guided, in determining whether
* Let right be done, be the consequences what they may.
312 
NATURAL PRINCIPLES OF MORALITY.
the temperate use of these things is injurious; nor does
reason afford us any clear light, nor conscience any sure
admonition, upon the subject. The immediate effect of
them is usually pleasing, and hence offers strong inducements to use them. The only way, therefore, to determine
whether the temperate use of them is morally right, is by
observing their ultimate tendencies. If they are proved
to impair health, entail suffering, and shorten life, the use
of them is as immoral as it is imprudent.
In the same way we are to decide whether indulgence
of any kind is mrnmoderate. Appetite is not an infallible
monitor. Indeed it can seldom be fully indulged without
harm, for it is seldom in a strictly normal condition.
Every person is-therefore bound to consult experience, and
to restrain his appetites within the limit which it proves
to be most conducive to health.  To fail in this, is to fail
of the cardinal virtue of temperaibce.
FASHION AND DRESS.
The Chinese adopt the fashion of compressing the feet
of their female children of high birth into small wooden
shoes, to prevent their growing to a natural size. They
thus render such children cripples for life. Some western
nations, instead of compressing the feet, attack the more
dangerous part, and compress the waist; thus inducing
feebleness, diseases of the spine and lungs, and inviting
premature death.
In both cases the motive is the same; namely, to remove the subject from the appearance of vulgar labor,
and impart to her an air of refinement and beauty. A
small foot to the eye of the fashionable Chinese, is what a
slender waist is to the eye of a fashionable American. To
each it is beautiful.
14
313 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
But while it is beautiful to the eye of one person, it is
quite the reverse to the eye of another. Nor is this because the one is cultivated and the other rude; for persons
of the highest culture differ upon this point. We cannot
then determine by any cesthetcal rule which fashion is
right.
Nor can we decide this by adopting the principle, that
we ought not to divert the body from its natural growth;
for all nature is made subject to our pruning and culture.
If we do not attend to the development and growth of the
body, it becomes deformed. Who shall decide how far
this culture should be carried?  We submit while young
to painful dental operations, to secure the future beauty
of the teeth; why not do the same for the feet, the waist,
the head?
There is but one answer: whatever experience proves
to be most conducive to health, vigor, the full and free use
of our faculties, and length of life, is certainly according
to the divine intent. The wearing of the hair long or
short, the tonsuring of the beard or allowing it to vegetate
in full, the cultivation of the moustache or the imperial,
&c., &c., about which grave questions of morality and
religion have been raised, are mere matters of taste and
convenience. But to follow any fashion that wars against
health and life, is as immoral as it is unwise. We may
call it only an innocent foible, but offended law, both
natural and moral, will punish it as a crine.
CONFLICT OF TASTE WITH UTILITY.
What gratifies the sentiment of taste, sometimes conflicts with apparent  utility.  In this case, as in all others,
the most important demand must rule. But who shall
decide which is the most important?
314 
NATURAL PRINCIPLES OF MORALITY.
A farmer has upon his grounds near his dwelling a fine
grove of trees. He has little taste for the ornamental;
his thoughts are for the profitable. Thie wood might be
sold for much, and the land made to yield an annual harvest. Nor need we suppose him miserly. I-Ie may be a
conscientious and benevolent man. He has children to
educate, and is disposed to contribute generously to worthy
objects. He therefore thinks it his duty, to sacrifice the
grove to a useful purpose.
His neighbor, being of a different taste and culture,
pronounces the direst anathema upon his head. The most
sacred sentiments of his heart have been outraged. Had
he been owner of the ground, he would have subsisted
upon one meal a day, and even have curtailed the education of his children, rather than perpetrate so savage a
deed. To mar the beauties of nature thus, is an offence
for which he has no forgiveness.
Which of these men is right?  Each may be right, in
his way. Each must view the subject with his own eyes;
and until they can exchange the use of them, they should
agree to differ. The one man is utii7tarian; the other is
cesthetical; but they may be equally conscientious.  It was
divinely intended that men should thus differ; for from
differences like this spring the various pursuits which are
the bond of harmony, and which furnish the "spice of
life."
In all such cases, we should allow every man to follow
the dictates of his own conscience, and be sure that we
offend not our own.  "Why is my liberty judged of another man's conscience?" "  Happy is he that condemneth
not himself in the thing which he alloweth."  If one man
is captivated with the grandeur of Niagara Falls, and another sees in them nothing to admire, but thinks only of
the useful purpose they might subserve, in driving ma
315 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
chinery, we have only to smile at the difference between
them, and devoutly wish that each may be true to his
mission.
THE RIGHT OF PROHIBITORY LAWS.
No human laws are designed to make men righteous.
Their object is to restrain immoralities within limits essential to the general welfare. The righteous do not need
law; it is made for the vicious. "The law is not made
for a righteous man, but for the lawless and disobedient."
Such are the persons for whom the State must enact prohibitory laws, and establish courts and prisons. But while
restraining these, they should place the least possible bond
upon human liberty. They should respect the privileges
of the virtuous, while restraining the misdeeds of the
vicious. They should be just to all, and never attempt to
rule the conscience.
How, then, are we to judge of the rightfulness of a
prohibitory law? Suppose one, for instance, restraining
the sale and use of intoxicating liquors. That such a law
is not needful for the temperate, all admit. The man
whose conduct is ruled by the cardinal principles of virtue,
needs no such artificial rule as this. But is it needful for
the intemperate?  That is the question; and it must be
settled by experience.
That it imposes undue restraint upon any man's conscience, would not be pretended. The restraint is wholly
upon the demands of the appetite or of the purse. Hience
we have only to inquire whether its tendency is favorable
to the general and individual welfare. If it is found to
prevent vice, to protect virtue, to encourage industry and
thrift; to carry peace and abundance to the domestic
hearth; to empty jails, prisons, poorhouses, and asylums
for the insane, and to replenish shops, manufactories,
316 
IATUXRAL PRINCIPLES OF MORALITY.
farms, and schools of learning, with useful talent and wise
endeavor; if it thus helps to redeem men from debasing bondage, and to raise them to the dignity and happiness for which they were made; then such law is clearly
just and good, and every man ought to sustain it.
But should any privilege of the temperate be curtailed,
for the sake of removing temptation from the intemperate?
What privilege is curtailed?  Thie former no more need
the unrestrained use of intoxicating drink than the latter.
If its presence is no temptation to them, restraint is no
loss. Indeed, it is not the strictly virtuous who usually
complain of such prohibitions.
I offer no special pleading in behalf of any particular
law. I only assert that any prohibitory law not forbidden
by conscience nor the Bible, which has been proved to be
beneficial to the general welfare, and which curtails no
virtuous privilege, is morally right. In all civilized communities many such laws are enacted, to prevent crime,
to encourage industry, to promote education; and they
are as binding upon our consciences as the first principles
of morality. Indeed, these principles themselves require
us to do what we can to procure the enactment of such
laws, to obey them, and to enforce their observance.
THE PRINCIPLE OF EXPEDIENCY.
But he who merely conforms to the letter of law, does
not reach his duty.  A man is bound to do what is expedient, as well as lawful.  "All things are lawful unto me;
but all things are not expedient."  The law may allow
things which expediency forbids, and which are therefore
wrong.
For example, the law may allow a man to take intoxicating drink at the festive board. To take it might do
him no harm, and might afford him pleasure. But cir
317 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
cumstances may make it inexpedient. He might, by indulgence, encourage others to do the same, whom it would
injure. They may be reclaimed inebriates, or persons of
ill-governed appetite, whom the least indulgence might
entice to ruin.
He might also weaken the cause of temperance, and
put arguments into the lips of every inebriate about him.
Shall he do what is lawf7ul, or what is expedient? Shall
he avail himself of the law, to protect his indulgence, or
shall he practise self-denial, if such it be, for the general
welfare? A good conscience could not hesitate as to duty.
Nor is there here any ground for the stale charge of
pretension and hypocrisy. In obeying his conscience, the
man does exactly as he pretends. He does not claim a
higher morality than he practises. He does not pretend,
that the use of wine is in itself and under all circumstances
wrong; but that, when it is unnecessary, and tends to evil,
it is his duty to refrain from using it. His example says
to those inclining to intemperance, that he refrains for
their sake, not his own. It is an act of self-denial for
their good.
Not only so, it is an act of kind regard to the strictly
temperate. Hie might by indulgence offend their consciences, or embolden them to do what their consciences
condemn. To practise self-denial, from such motives, is
to act upon the principle which induced Paul to refrain
from meat that had been offered to idols. He knew and
averred that there was nothing wrong in the use of the
meat, considered in itself; but he said, " When ye sin so
against the brethren, and wound their weak consciences,
ye sin against Christ. Wherefore, if meat make my
brother to offend, I will eat no flesh while the world
standeth, lest I make my brother to offend."*
* 1 Cor. viii. 13.
318 
NATURAL PRINCIPLES OF MORALITY.
MORALITY OF AMUSEMENTS.
Intemperate and cruel amusements are condemned by
the first principles of virtue and benevolence. But there
are many amusements not necessarily of this kind.
Among these we may enumerate fashionable assemblies,
balls, theatres, horse-racing, gaming; in short, all those
recreations whose direct object is pleasure.
Pleasure is a good, and may be sought by right means;
but whether these means are right, can be judged only by
their effects.   We have no intuitions, and there are no
positive precepts, which directly determine their quality;
and there are plausible arguments both for and against
them.
If they are proved to be, under certain restrictions,
means of virtue as well as pleasure; if they contribute to
the health, thrift, cheerfulness, and morality of the comnmunity; especially, if they are strictly subservient to our
spiritual duties and interests; they are so far forth lawful
and right. To what extent they are so, if at all, it is left
with our judgment and observation to determine.  Hence,
different men will decide somewhat differently.
But wherein these things are proved to be of an opposite tendency; to induce indolence, waste, intemperance,
and other vices; to displace the fear of God and the duties
of religion; they are unquestionably wrong, and will be
condemned by every enlightened judgment.
The responsibility is therefore laid upon all men, subjects as well as magistrates, to have an eye to the tendencies of popular amusements, and to countenance such, and
only such, as are conducive to the general welfare.
Enough amusements are at command, which are strictly
harmless, without adventuring upon any which are of a
dangerous or even doubtful tendency.
319 
CHAPTER IV.
II.-REVEALED PRINCIPLES OF MORALITY.
MORALITY OF CEURI RSTIANITY.
WE are next to consider the revealed principles of morality. We find these in the Christian religion; and it
is our present purpose to examine their ethical claims.
Our task here is not with the external evidences for Christianity, furnished by history, miracles, and prophecies,
but with its rqtflne88ss, as related to our moral nature.
Let us then glance at its relations to our several faculties.
RELATION  OF CHRISTIANITY TO THIE APPETITES.-We
have seen that morality requires us to restrain indulgence
of the appetites within the limits most conducive to the
health and welfare of our race. To do thus, is to practise
the virtues of temperance and chastity, and is precisely
what Christianity enjoins. She enforces these virtues, not
only by the motives of prudence and morality, but by the
higher motives of religion.
She announces the most terrible judgments upon the
vices of unrestrained appetite; drunkenness, gluttony,
fornication, and self-pollution; and admonishes us that
" every man that striveth for the mastery is temperate in 
REVEALED PRINCIPLES OF MORALITY.
all things." To " keep under the body and bring it into
subjection" to the law of spiritual life, she inculcates as
an indispensable condition of both our temporal and spiritual welfare.
At the same time, she enjoins no auste-ities; she is
kind and generous to all the bodily wants; she invites a
free and full expansion of all its powers; she says to
every one, in respect to body as well as soul, " Do thyself
no harm." And facts have proved, that they who best
regard her admonitions, take the surest way to health,
happiness, and length of days.
RELATION OF CHRISTIANITY TO THIE AFFECTIONS.-We
have seen that morality condemns every malignant affection, and requires of us benevolence towards all men, even
our enemies. So does Christianity. She says: " Love is
the fulfilling of the law." " Love your enemies, pray for
them that curse you and despitefully use you, that ye may
be the children of your Father which is in heaven."
She provides for all the natural affections, and demands their due exercise. She gives full and harmonious
play to the parental, filial, fraternal, conjugal, and social
affections; and employs them all in her service, in a way
to render us prompt and happy in discharging our various
relative duties.
But while she calls for these affections, she does not
allow our love to take a narrow and selfish form. It must
be all-embracing. She enjoins an impartial philanthropy.
She teaches us that every man is our brother, and that we
ought to regard his temporal and eternal welfare. I1er
command is ever upon us, " Love all men."
RELATION OF CHRISTIANITY TO THE DESIRES.-The first
of these in our enumeration is the desire of life.  Christianity nourishes and animates this desire; augments the
value of life, by considerations of infinite moment; teaches
14*
321 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
us how to prolong it; presides as a guardian angel over
it; and finally teaches us to project the desire for it beyond the grave, and to live here in view of living for
ever hereafter.
Next is the desire of happiiess8.  Christianity encourages this desire, and makes earnest appeals to it. She
teaches us to live in view of the highest happiness; never
taking one pleasure from us, but for the sake of giving us
a better. She forbids no pleasures but such as tend to
misery. She thus guides, tranquillizes, and strengthens
the desire itself, while proffering to it the highest possible
means of gratification, We have only to heed her admonitions, and for every hurtful indulgence renounced, we
receive "joy unspeakable and full of glory;" for "the
pleasures of sin for a season," we receive full draughts
of endless blessedness firom the' pure river of water of
life, clear as crystal, proceeding out of the throne of God
and of the Lamb."
The desire of society, or the social feeling, is another
element in the mental constitution; and for this, too,
Christianity fully provides. She always regards us as
social beings, destined to find much of our happiness in
each other; and many of her precepts respect our mutual
relations as members of the same community. The public worship of God she has made social; the Christian
Church is social; the Christian heaven is social. And
Christianity teaches us so to cultivate the social affection
and live together upon earth, that we may live together
in blessedness for ever in heaven.
We have the desire of knowledge.  No desire is more
constant and active; and for none does Christianity more
generously provide. She places at our disposal all the
treasures of science, all the operations of nature, all languages and all arts. She invites us to study the heavens
322 
REVEALED PRINCIPLES OF MORALITY.
as the work of God's hands, the moon and the stars which
he has ordained; to take lessons fromn the fowls of the
air, the lilies of the valley, the grass that clothes the
field.
She provides also for that deeper thirst of knowledge,
which pertains to our spiritual nature. She reveals a
portion of the wonders of the invisible world. She makes
known to us some of the " things " which " the angels
desire to look into." In view of her disclosures we are
sometimes constrained to exclaim, "0 the depth of the
riches, both of the wisdom and the knowledge of God!"
And at every step of our way, she cheers us with the
assurance, that if true to her teachings, we shall never
cease to grow in knowledge.
We have the desire of esteem. Nor does Christianity
disregard this.  She discountenances vanity, and other
errors to which the desire often leads, but she cherishes
the desire itself, and seeks to gratify it in the highest
degree. She would first of all render us worthy of the
esteem we desire, and then put us in possession of it.
She teaches us to discriminate between that esteem which
is valuable and that which is worthless, to seek the former
and despise the latter; to conduct so as to win the esteem
of the wise, and secure " the honor that comethl from God
only."  Jesus Christ said, "If any man serve me, Ai,uv
will my<, Father honorr;" thus appealing to our desire of
esteem, and telling us how to obtain for it the highest
possible satisfaction.
WVe desire to sustain the relation to beings and to
things, by which we can claim them as our own,.  And
this craving Christianity would gratify, in the truest and
fullest sense. It is only the covetous desire, that she condemns. She would not only protect us in the enjoyment
323 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
of what we have, but put us in relation to new friends
and possessions, to be sacredly ours for ever.
She so enlarges our inheritance, if we obey her, as to
make it include all that can be desired, both in this life
and in that which is to come. " Therefore, let no man
glory in men, for all t/tinqs are yours; whether Paul, or
Apollos, or Cephas, or the world, or life, or death, or
things present, or things to come, all are yours; and ye
are Christ's, and Christ is God's." It is the exalted privilege of the Christian, that the friendship and riches of
Christ's kingdom are his own; that even the God of
heaven is his own God.
Finally, we have the desire of power. No instinct
of the human mind does Christianity more cautiously
guard than this, and more vigilantly guide to the realization of its true object. While she condemns, in no measured terms, all selfish ambition, she teaches us to aspire
to the sublimest of all power, the " power to become the
sons of God;" and, by becoming such, to obtain power
to rule our own spirit; power over temptation; power to
tread the world under our feet; and, by a life of supreme
devotion to the great end for which we were made, to
wield a benign moral inflence over the character and destinies of mankind. No other power is so worthy of our
supreme desire and untiring pursuit.
And more than this, Christianity teaches us to anticipate thrones of power and influence it the world to come.
"To him that overcomnleth, will I grant to sit with me on
my throne, even as I also overcame, and am set down
with my Father on his throne."
RELATION OF CHRISTIANITY TO THE EMOTIONS.-Chris
tianity allows the boundless exercise of all the purely
natural emotions, and furnishes motives to excite them
Emotions of the beautiful, the grand, the sublime, the
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REVEALED PRINCIPLES OF MORALITY.
terrible, the awful, are addressed by no appeals more
vivid and stirring than those furnished in the life, teachings, sufferings, and death of Jesus Christ; and especially
in the disclosures made by him and his disciples relating
to the end of time, the general judgment, and the retributions of eternity.
Moral science recognizes another class of emotions,
as morally right or wrong. It condemns hatred, anger,
revenge, envy, pride, every form of malignant passion;
and holds remorse and despair to be the fruit of evil
doing. Christianity, in like manner, condemns them;
and also presents motives to restrain them, drawn from
the forgiving love of God in Christ.
"Avenue not yourselves," she says, "but rather give
place unto wrath."  "Let all bitterness, and wrath, and
anger, and clamor, and evil speaking, be put away from
you, with all malice; and be ye kind one to another,
tender-hearted, forgiving one another; even as God for
Christ's sake hath forgiven you."
Condemning  all emotions which morality disowns,
she also utters her divine approval of those which morality allows. Thus emotions of love, pity, sympathy, forgiveness, gratitude, penitence, humility, faith, and hope,
are by her regarded as the fruits of divine grace in the
heart, and evidences of a regenerate spirit.  "The fruit
of the Spirit," she says, "is love, joy, peace, long-suffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance;
against such there is no law."  "Godly sorrow worketh
repentance to salvation, not to be repented of." Thus the
best and happiest emotions that ever beat in the human
heart, are due to the Christian religion.
RELATION OF CHRISTIANITY TO TASTE AND SENTIMENT.Christianity condemns all false taste and sickly sentimentalism. But there is a taste true to nature, which refines
325 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
and elevates the soul; and there is a sentiment which
finds delightful repose in whatever is pmue and lovely.
These Christianity protects and fosters. There are no
forms of true beauty and sublimity, whether actual or
ideal, to which she is a stranger. No conceptions of imagination are richer, bolder, more original, or more vivid,
than those to which she gives rise.
The effect of Christianity, wherever she has prevailed,
has always been to correct and exalt the taste. A friend
to the fine arts, she guards them with an ever vigilant eye
from perversion and abuse. Hers is a religion of meditation, as well as of action; not only affording to us the
luxury of doing good, but of feasting our minds with
ennobling thoughts, cheering hopes, and charming sentiments.  By studying her lessons and imbibing her spirit,
we realize the finest sentiments and most brilliant conceptions of which the mind is capable.
RELATION OF CHRISTIANITY TO THE WILL.-We have had
previous occasion to refer to this, with reference to a particular point. We have now another in view. It has
been supposed that some of the doctrines of Christianity
are at variance with the entire freedom of the human will.
They are so, only as viewed through the mists of false
philosophy. Whatever may be the nature of the gracious
influence by which the mind is renewed, we cannot suppose, without denying the teachings of Christ, that it is
at variance with our responsible power of will; for to
that he appeals. Men do as they will in religion, not less
than in other matters.
The influence which Christ by his Spirit exerts upon
the human will, to induce a right choice, is not that of
mechanical force. He operates upon mind, not by the
laws of matter, but by the laws of mental operation. His
method of approach to us, when he would gain our con
326 
REVEALED PRINCIPLES OF MORALITY.
sent to be his, is on this wise: "Behold, I stand at the
door and knock."
By his providential dealings, by his teaching and example, and especially by the influences of the Holy Spirit,
he presents himself to us as a friend, knocking at our door
to gain admission. He comes to save us from sin, reclaim
us to God, and give us foretastes and hopes of eternal life.
He does not knock once or twice, and then, if unanswered,
turn away. His attempts to gain admission are so repeated, that he is said to " stand at the door."
" If any man hear my voice, and open unto me."  We
must attend to his teachings; we must hearken to his call.
11e must also " open " the door to him.  The act implied
in opening the door, is, our free consent to receive him.
We must be cordially willing to have him enter, to abide
with us as our indwelling and informing Word, and to be
our only and our sufficient Saviour.
To every one who shall thus receive him, he graciously promises, " I will come in to him, and will sup with
him and he with me." The cordial consent gained, Christ
enters, mutual friendship is declared, and the royal banquet commences.
We hence see that Christianity respects the natural
laws of the will, as truly as she does those of the other
mental powers. She treats us as voluntary, not less than
as susceptible and as intelligent beings. She aims to move
the will and the whole heart through the intellect, and to
induce us heartily to choose "'the good part that shall
never be taken away from us." And if all history and
observation are not false, by thus yielding our hearts to
Christ and following him, we are sure to reach the highest
moral excellence attainable upon earth.
RELATION OF CHRISTIANITY TO REASON AND CONSCIENCE.
-It has been objected to Christianity that she does not
327 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
appeal to our reason, but to ourfaith. It is said that she
does not address us as rational beings, but as confiding,
trusting beings, who, sensible of our ignorance and feebleness, and awed by the majesty of her miracles, have only
to prostrate our reason at her feet, and follow her commands with a blind and submissive credulity.
Christianity does, indeed, make demands upon our
faith; nor could she otherwise be true to our necessities.
We have seen that faith is itself a sublime virtue, and is
parent to many others. She also regards us as feeble and
ignorant, nor could she truly regard us otherwise. She
moreover commends herself to our homage, by stupendous
miracles of power and grace, such as God only could perform; and this is what we ought to expect from such a
Being, when putting his seal upon so important a message
from his throne.
There is nothing unreasonable in all this; and if she
teaches us things which unaided reason could never have
known, this again is what we ought to expect; for why
should she come to teach us only what we knew before,
or could as well learn without her? It is enough that she
teaches nothing contrary to reason; that she sanctions
and confirms all that reason could learn without her; and
then, taking the human mind in charge, conducts it
straight upward in the same path, upon which it has by
the light of reason entered, to the full blaze of eternal
light and glory.
We have seen that the essential principles of morality
are perceived in the concrete, by the intuitions of reason,
and that actions conformed to them are cardinal virtues.
These, conscientiously practised, are the only true basis
of morality, and they lie also at the foundation of Christianity.  She is thus an eminently reas8onable religion.
She rests her claims upon the decisions of enlightened
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REVEALED PRINCIPLES OF MORALITY.
conscience, and commands us to judge and to act, not
less in religion than in other matters, as rational beings.
Hence, to deny the fundamental principles of Christianity,
is to subvert morality; to be false to our own nature, and
to act irrationally in the highest degree.
In the chapter upon Conscience we have seen that this
faculty, in the large and Scriptural sense, includes the
reason and understanding. All of its admonitions, appeals, rebukes, all the pangs and all the joys it imparts, depend upon the intellective powers. In its legitimate exercise, it never admonishes us to act unreasonably. It never inflicts upon us a pang, for doing what
we believe to be a truly reasonable act; it has no joys for
us, in reward for an unreasonable one. A man justly reproaches himself, only when he sees that his feelings and
conduct are unworthy of himself as a rational being.
Christianity without and conscience within unite in one
voice, commanding us to devote all our powers of body,
of feeling, and of will, to the noblest and most " reasonable service."  Thus she enthrones herself in our rational
nature, and employs all the force of conscience within,
and all the machinery of government without to make us
faithful to its high demands. The truest Christian is the
best of moralists and the most reasonable of men.
329 
CHAPTER v.
REVEALED FACTS OF CHRISTIANITY.
THE most important of the revealedfacts, from which are
deduced the principles of Christian morality, are the following:
1. THE EXISTENCE AND PERFECTIONS OF THE TRUE GOD.None of the heathen nations seem to have arrived at any
certainty upon the question, whether there are several
gods or only one. Even the wisest of the Grecian and
Roman philosophers were in doubt upon this subject.
Christianity has settled it. She reveals one only living
and true God, and condemns all other claims to divinity.
Pagan nations have also been ever in doubt respecting
the mnoral perfection8 of God.  They have usually invested
their deities with some malignant passions. But Christianity has taught us that "God i s love;" thus divesting
him of every malignant temper, and revealing him as a
Being of infinite moral excellence. Perhaps no cause
has operated more disastrously upon the morality of
heathen nations, than their imparting to their deities gross
and selfish feelings. 
REVEALED PRINCIPLES OF MORALITY.
2. THE CREATION OF MAN.-Revelation apart, mankind
have never been able to come to any tolerable conjecture
respecting their origin.   Speculations  upon this point
have been endless, and all equally unsatisfactory. Christiallity has taught us, re-uttering the language of the Hebrew Scriptures, that " in the beginning God created
mnan male and female;" and that the human race have
sprung, by natural descent, from this divinely created
pair.
3. THE PRIMITIVE PURITY OF IMAN.-Whether man has
ever been in a state of perfect purity, has also been questioned. Poets have sung of a golden age, a purer state,
from which we have degenerated; but even this conception seems to have been remotely due to revelation.
Christianity reveals the primitive purity of man; and by
thus holding distinctly before us the state for which we
were designed; what we have been, may be, ought to be,
and, if we embrace the gospel, will be, is at once a guide
and incentive to moral excellence.
4. THE ORIGIN AND EXTENT OF IHIUMAN SINFULNESS.All agree that mankind are sinful, but how they came to
be so, none have been able to tell us. Christianity instructs us, that our first parents became sinners by transgressing the divine command; and that the transgression,
thus commenced, has been perpetuated by their descendants. Our first parents fell from their allegiance, became
indisposed to obey God; and their posterity have the disposition which their progenitors had after they fell.
Christianity enlightens us also respecting the extent of
human sinfulness  teaching us that it is universal.  "All
have gone out of the way."  " There is none that doeth
good, no, not one." This fact is of great importance, in a
moral as well as religious view. We are all in fault.
We cannot glory over one another; boasting is excluded.
331 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
Humility and repentance are cardinal moral virtues,
equally binding upon all mankind.
5. THE DISPENSATION OF GRACE.-Whether there is help
for human sinfulness, or whether men must impotently
submit to its dominion and inevitably pay the penalty incurred by sin, it seems to have been impossible for unaided reason fully to determine Christianity has revealed
a dispensation of grace.'"God so loved the world that
he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth
in him might not perish, but have eternal life." lie has
thus revealed himself a redeeming God.   A  sun of
righteou8ness has thus risen upon the world, "with healing in his wings."  There is hope for man, fallen and
guilty though he be.
A healing and restoring process is going on all around
us; should it pass by the human soul?  This gracious dispensation is the most effective of all means to promote
morality, causing the main difference between the morals
of Christian and those of pagan nations. Upon the redeeming grace of God in Christ, the world's morality, as
well as its religion, ultimately depends.
6. THE CERTAINTY OF FUTURE EXISTENCE AND RETRIBUTION. That we shall exist, in some mode, beyond the
grave, has been imagined, hoped, and even expected,
by pagan philosophers. But the certainty of this, it remained for Christianity to reveal.  "Life and immortality
are brought to light   the Gospe7."
Christianity assures us that we shall exist as conscious
and accountable beings beyond the grave; that we shall
be righteously judged; and that we shall receive according to the deeds done in the body.  "For we must all
appear before the judgment-seat of Christ, that every one
may receive the things done in his body, whether they be
good or bad." This revealed fact is of the highest prac
332 
REVEALED PRINCIPLES OF MORALITY.
tical importance to the cause of morality. Indeed, the
validity of an oath, and the main supports of civil and
religious freedom, depend in great measure upon it.
7. THE RESURRECTION OF THE BODY.-Arguments for
the resurrection of the body have been drawn from the
analogies of nature, especially from the seeming resurrection of the vegetable and lower animal creations. But
these are nere analogies, after all; they positively prove
nothing. For the proof of this doctrine, we are entirely
dependent upon Christianity. She informs us that our
immortal spirits will hereafter be invested with immortal
bodies. They will not be, like these, gross, sensual,
earthy; they will be spiritual, refined, angelic. Yet they
will sustain to these some unrevealed important relation of
identity. " So, also, is the resurrection of the dead. It
is sown in corruption, it is raised in incorruption; it is
sown in dishonor, it is raised in glory; it is sown in weakness, it is raised in power; it is sown a natural body, it is
raised a spiritual body."
As this is a doctrine entirely above the reach of unaided
reason, but not contrary to it, it is the province of reason
to receive it by faith as a learner; not doubting that God
is able to teach us, by revelation, what we could not
otherwise have known. If the claims of Christianity as a
revelation from God are well established, the resurrection
of the dead is a fact in the future as certain as our death.
The same Omnipotence that lays the body in the dust,
can rob the grave of its treasure, and from the ruin and
waste of ages clothe every redeemed spirit with a glorious
immortal form.
As to the moral tendency of the doctrine, we cannot
fail to see, that if we are to be raised incorruptible, and an
important relation is to be for ever realized between our
mortal and our immortal bodies, we are under powerful
333 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
inducements not to yield our "members as instruments of
unrighteousness unto sin," but "as instruments of righteousness unto God."
PRINCIPLES OF DUTY DEDUCED FROM CHRISTIANITY.
These, then, are the leading facts, for the knowledge
of which we are mostly indebted to revelation: the existence and perfections of the true God; the creation of
man; the primitive purity of man; the origin and extent
of human sinfulness; the dispensation of grace; the certainty of future existence and retribution; and the resurrection of the dead.
If Christianity is true, these revealed facts impose
obligations upon us additional to those imposed by the
light of nature. Where much is given much also is
required. Thus, although Christianity does not make us
accountable beings, it greatly enhances our accountability.
From the first of the above revealed facts, we clearly
and fully learn the duty, already partially taught by the
light of nature, to render sgupreme relgious homage to one
only living and true God.
From the second, we learn the direct claim of God
upon us, as the.[aker of our frames and the Father of
our spirits, and our general duty to all mankind, as children with us of a common Father.
From the third, we see in man's original character,
which God pronounced " very good," the moral and
spiritual excellencefor which we were made, and to which
we should aspire.
From the fourth, we deduce the rule of duty, binding
alike upon all men, to be penitent and humble before God
for our sins; the penalty of neglecting it being announced in the weighty words of Christ himself, " Except
ye repent, ye shall all likewise perish."
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REVEALED PRINCIPLES OF MORALITY.
From the fifth, it becomes our manifest duty, not only
to be penitent for our sins, but also to trust the proffered
grace of God for pardon and salvation; accepting the
generous provisions of his Gospel, and reposing in the
assurance that " he who believeth shall be saved."
From the sixth, we learn the rule of duty always to
conduct in view of the righteous retributions of eternity.
From the seventh, we learn that we ought to rise
above the servile fear of death and the grave, and so to
consecrate " our bodies a living sacrixce unto God," that
we may hope to live and shine with them before his throne
for ever, in new and glorious forms.
If Christianity is true, we are all bound to adopt the
above principles and to act habitually upon them. Such
is Christian morality.  It conducts us quite up to the
borders of purely spiritual philosophy, upon which the
limit of our present subject does not permit us to enter.
Along with the revelation of these momentous facts,
and her bright and shining array of precepts and warnings attending them, Christianity has also enjoined upon
us certain Institutions, which are of the highest importance, both to our temporal and eternal welfare. She did
not originate them all, but she has put her seal upon them,
and has placed mankind under a bond sacredly to regard
them. These are the Sabbath, Marriage, Public Worship,
the Church and its ordinances, and Civil Government.
335 
CHAPTER VI.
INSTITUTIONS OF CHRISTLINITY.
THE SABBATH.
A  HEBDOMADAL period of rest and devotion is rendered
necessary by the physical, the intellectual, the moral, and
the religious wants of the human race.
The phys8ical wants of both man and beast demand it.
All laboring men, and all domesticated animals subjected
to service, need one day in seven for repose. This has
been proved by careful induction of facts. Those communities which most faithfully observe the Sabbath as a
day of rest, enjoy the most vigorous and prolonged health.
The French nation, at the period of the great revolution,
decimated the time, allowing only one day in ten for rest;
but this was found insufficient, and they were obliged to
return to the observance of one day in seven.
The intellect, as well as the body, requires the same
rest. Clergymen, whose vocation calls for special mental
activity upon the Sabbath, find it necessary to rest upon
the following day. Those who fail to allow their minds
an amount of repose tantamount to one day in seven, are
not long able to endure the labors of their profession. 
REVEALED PRINCIPLES OF MORALITY.
Mental rest is found in change. It is not so much in
doing less, as in doing something else, that the mind recovers its exhausted vigor. The laboring man who spends
the Sabbath as he ought, gives his mind more activity,
perhaps, upon that day than upon others; but it is a kind
of activity that relieves it of the burden which it has
borne through the week, and prepares it to resume that
burden with renewed vigor for the week to come. While
the merchant, the politician, the professional man, finds in
the calm and elevated devotions of the Sabbath the only
adequate repose from the bustle and vexations of secular
time.
More especially is the Sabbath needful to man as a
moral and religious being. No elevated state of morals
has ever been sustained without it.  Mere intellectual
culture, however severe and refined, cannot supply its
place. The morals of the Greeks and Romans, even
under the most rigorous discipline, became so debased as
to subvert their civil institutions. Without the Sabbath,
no nation has ever been able to establish and perpetuate
free institutions.
By turning our minds to our moral and religious responsibilities, by leading us to thoughtful reflections upon
the past and anticipations of the future, by enlightening
and quickening our consciences, the Sabbath becomes an
essential means of improving our character. Those comnmunities which best observe the Sabbath, are the most
intelligent, virtuous, and pious. The habitual violators
of it, even in the best communities, usually become debauched in morals, and frequently end their lives in
disgrace.
Perceiving thus a necessity for the Sabbath, we reasonably presume that God has instituted one. Let us then
briefly inquire whether a hebdomadal Sabbath, that is,
15
33T 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
the observance of one day in seven as a time of rest, has
been divinely appointed. Our examination covers three
distinct periods; the first, from the creation to Moses;
the second, firom Moses to Christ; the third, from Christ
till the present time. We have thus the Primitive, the
Mosaic, and the Christian Sabbath.
THE PRIMITIVE SABBATH.
In the book of Genesis, the second chapter, we find
that as soon as God had created the world he instituted a
Sabbath. " Thus the heavens and the earth were finished,
and all the host of them; and on the seventh day God
ended his work which he had made; and he rested on the
seventh day from all his work which he had made. And
God blessed the seventh day, and sancti(ed it; because
that in it he had rested from all his work which God
created and made."
We are here taught the following facts:
1. As his crowning act at the completion of creation,
God ordained a Sabbath.   It was " made for ma," as
Christ has taught uLs; made for him in his infancy, that
he might, under its benign influence, be trained up in
virtue and piety. As it was given to our progenitors, it
was of course given to the race whom they represented.
It is an institution coeval with creation, and enduring as
the human family.
2. Hie not only ordained a Sabbath, but set us the
example of observing it. He himself " rested on the seventh day." And we are expressly taught in the twentieth
chapter of Exodus, that his rest was divinely intended to
be an example for us to follow.
3. Hie also " blessed " the day.  He put the seal of his
special favor upon it, as the day above all others fraught
with his richest gifts to man.
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REVEALED PRINCIPLES OF MORALITY.
4. Ie " sanotifed " it.  That is, he set it apart, or consecrated it, from secular to sacred purposes. Thus by his
positive act, it was set apart from the other days of the
week expressly for religious purposes.
In the brief history of the race furnished in the SeptuLagint, from the creation to the time of Moses, we find
distinct reference to this Sabbath. Noah was commanded to enter the ark, with his family and the numerous
creatures committed to him, "seven days" before the
flood. This command seems to have provided against
his trespassing upon the Sabbath; as the gathering of so
many creatures together with all his effects into the ark,
would occupy several days. For a similar reason, he
waited seven days between the times of sending forth the
dove.
We find explicit reference to this Sabbath in the sixteenth chapter of Exodus. The Israelites are there expressly commanded to provide manna beforehand for this
day. " This is that which the Lord hath said, To-morrow
is the rest of the roly Sabbath unto the Lord." When some
of the people violated the injunction, they were sternly
rebuked, "How long refuse ye to keep my commandments and my law?  See, for that the Lord hath given you
the Sabbath, therefore he giveth you on the sixth day the
bread of two days; abide ye every man in his place, let
no man go out of his place on the seventh day. So the
people rested on the seventh day."
Thus it appears that the Sabbath was instituted, observed, and blessed by God, and was also made obligatory
upon men, previous to the Xosaic law given on Sinai.
The earliest Grecian and Roman classics, also, refer to the
hebdomadal division of time.
339 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
THE MOSAIC SABBATH.
This is the same as the Sabbath of creation, reaffirmed
by the voice of God on Sinai. But as the command to observe it was incorporated in the civil and religious code
furnished by Moses, it is hence called the  osaic Sabbath.
Three particulars must here be noticed.
1. The government of the Israelites was a Theocracy;
that is, a government administered by God, having both a
civil and religious end. Hience some of the laws given to
them through Moses were of a national character, binding
only on this particular people; while others were of a
strictly moral and religious character, equally obligatory
upon all men.
2. Of the latter is the commannd  to keep the S~abbatk.
It is found in the law of the Ten Commandments,which
is always referred to in the Scriptures as containing the
sum of the moral code given by God to man. Jesus
Christ and his apostles, who made a distinction between
what was moral and religious, and what was ceremonial
and national, always referred to the Sabbath as an institution of permanent and  tniversal obligation.  " The Sabbath," said Christ, " was made for man; " that is, for man
in general, for the human race. It is an institution which
all men equally need, and are equally bound to observe.
3. The Sabbath was set apart not only as a day of rest
from secular pursuits, but of religious worshp.  While
the most solemn denunciations were uttered against those
who desecrated it to secular purposes, most animating
promises of favor were made to those who kept it holy
unto the Lord.  "If thou turn away thy foot from the
Sabbath, from doing thy pleasure on my holy day, and
call the Sabbath a delight, the holy of the Lord, honor
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REVEALED PRINCIPLES OF MORALITY.
able; and shalt honor him, not doing thine own ways, nor
finding thine own pleasures, nor speaking thine own words;
then shalt thou delight thyself in the Lord, and I will
cause thee to ride upon the high places of the earth, and
feed thee with the heritage of Jacob thy father; for the
mouth of the Lord hath spoken it."  "From one Sabbath
to another, shall all flesh come to worship before me, saith
the Lord." The Sabbath was sacredly observed by the
Jews as a day of solemn convocation and of preaching.*
THE CHRISTIAN SABBATH.
The Christian Sabbath is a continuation of the Mosaic.
The only material question here respects the change of the
time from the seventh to the first day of the week. The
solution of the question is found in the following particulars:
1. Although the necessity for the Sabbath exists in
nature, this necessity does not indicate any one day in
preference to another.  It is one seventh portion of time
that is needed for rest and devotion; and, considered
merely in this view, it is not material which day is taken.
2. The wisdom of God, which frequently secures subordinate ends along with the main one, at the creation of
the world chose the last day of the seven for the Sabbath,
because it fitly commemorated the great work which he
had then completed. This was the reason assigned by him
why he then preferred the seventh day to any other.
3. But he regarded the work of redemption greater
than the original work of creation. "Behold," he says,
"I create a new heaven and a new earth: and the former
shall not be remembered, nor come into mind."  This new
* See Neh. 13: 15-21. Isaiah 58: 13. Lev. 23: 3. Isaiah 66:23. Acts
15:21.
341 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
creation is evidently the work of redemption by Jesus
Christ. As it transcends in a moral and religious view
the first creation, the same reason which designated the
seventh day for the Sabbath under the old dispensation,
designated the ftst day under the new.  Each alike iimmediately follow the completion of the great work which
it commemorates.
Such, then, are the reasons for the change. Let us now
see whether the change was actually made by divine
authority.
1. The first day of the week commemorates the com
pletion of the work of redemption.  On the morning of
this day the Lord arose from the dead, and thus turned
the thoughts of his disciples upon this as henceforth the
great day of his church. It was from this time called the
Lord's day.
2. On the next Lord's day, one week from his resurrection, he appeared to his apostles.* It was then that he
conversed with Thomas. The disciples were assembled
within a house, evidently for worship. Thus early did
Christians commence observing this day.
3. From that time they continued to assemble for worship on the first day of the week, and in so doing acted
by the authority of God, and with his signal blessing.
Their great Pentecostal season; their stated meetings to
celebrate the Lord's supper; their contributions for benevolent objects; the spiritual raptures of John in Patmos;
were all upon this day.t
4. What was thus commenced by the inspired Apostles, was continued  by their  immediate succe,ssors. The
early Fathers speak of this day as the one set apart for religious worship, because it commemorates the resurrec  * John 20: 26.
f See 1 Cor. 11:14. 1 Cor. 16: 1,2. Acts 20:6. Rev. 1:10.
342 
REVEALED PRINCIPLES OF MORALITY.
tion of the Lord. The celebrated letter of Pliny to Trajan, in which he speaks of the stated meetings of Christians for worship, is to the same effect. All the earliest
ecclesiastical historians testify, that Christians observed
the Lord's day as holy time.
Should any still object to the change, we may add
that the universal observance of the first day by Christians
renders it extremely inconvenient, if not quite impracticable, for a few individuals strictly to observe any other;
and that the example of inspired Apostles, with the seal
of God's approbation, ought to suffice with every reasonable conscience to establish the divine authority of the
Christian Sabbath.
WHEN THE SABBATH BEGINS.
The Jewish Sabbath commenced on the eve of the day;
that is, on the evening preceding the Sabbath day. Many
have inferred from this, that the Christian Sabbath should
commence at the same time.  But a leading idea of the
Jewish Sabbath was rest, which naturally commences at
the close of the day; while a leading idea of the Christian
Sabbath is resurrection, rising, which naturally occurs in
the mnorning. It was then that Christ arose.
It is also generally admitted, for good reasons, that we
should commence the Sabbath at the same time we commence other days. If, however, any still prefer to commence their Sabbath on Saturday evening, they have the
example of our excellent Puritan ancestors, and usually,
also, the advantage of keeping two evenings as holy time
instead of one.
343 
CHAPTER VII.
INSTITUTIONS OF CHRISTIANITY CONTINUED.
M A RR I A G E.
THE conjugal relation was instituted by God in paradise
before the fall. It is not, then, like some institutions, a mere
expedient of a fallen state; it belongs to man in innocence. It originated in the fact that our race was made
male and female, each having peculiarities of constitution,
temperament, and disposition, which could find their appropriate object only in the other sex. Hence God said,
"It is not good that man should be alone."
Tkee institution remains unchanged&-It survived the
fall, and subsequently the great deluge, which swept all
but one family from the earth. The Abrahamic covenant
ratified and confirmed it; the revolutions of the Jewish
state and polity did not change it; Messiah's advent gave
it new confirmation; and, at the calling of the Gentiles,
it was passed over to them with all its original sanctions.
Thus launched in the beginning upon the stream of ages,
it has passed through all its breaks and rapids, has outrode every storm, and has descended in its primitive in 
REVEALED PRINCIPLES OF MORALITY.
tegrity to these latter ages. It will thus endure until the
end of time.
The conjugal union is both a religious and civil contract, formed by the mutual choice of the parties.  They
are united as husband and wife, agreeably to the design
of the Creator, as indicated by the constitution of the
sexes and by his word. It has ever been found an indispensable means of promoting industry, intelligence, morals, and religion.
Wherever it has been disregarded, the people have
descended to all the abominations of pagan licentiousness.
All that is dear in natural affection, lovely in virtue, and
glorious in religion, has there been sacrificed. No marvel that an institution so important should have been ordained by God, under most solemn sanctions, and that the
nations most highly civilized and moral are precisely those
who have enjoyed its benign influence.
It thus appears that polygqany i8 not of divine origin.
The parties originally united in the conjugal relation were
one man with one woman.   God gave to Adam  but one
wife. Polygamy was introduced by the wickedness of
mankind. God never approved of it, although for a time
he " endured " it, as he often has other evils, to avoid those
which, under the circumstances, might be greater. " For
the hardness of your heart," said Christ, "Moses wrote
you this precept, but from the beginning of the creation
God made them male and female.  For this cause a man
shall leave father and mother, and cleave to his wife, and
they twain shall be one flesh. What, therefore, God hath
joined together, let not man put asunder."
The marriage covenant is binding during the natural
life of both the parties.  Nothing but death, or the infi delity of one of the parties, can annul it. "What, there fore, God hath joined together," said Christ, 1 let   not man
15*
315 
MORAL PRILOSOPHY.
put asunder."  "' Whosoever shall put away his wife, ex cept it be for fornication, and shall marry another, committeth adultery."
This covenant is subject to the will of God, and can
involve no promise, or duty, at variance with morality
and religion.  The command, "Wives, submit yourselves
unto your own husbands, as unto the Lord, has sometimes
been supposed to imply absolute submission.  But it evidently would not be a submission as unto the -Lord, if it
involved the violation of any religious obligation. The
same principle applies to each of the sexes. Neither can
have a right to require of the other what conscience does
not approve. They may enlighten and convince each
other; but if light and argument fail, they must agree to
differ.
The covenant presupposes these points settled.  It
is ordinarily inexpedient, to say the least, for parties to
unite in marriage who are not of the same religious faith.
"How can two walk together except they be agreed?"
The evils resulting from want of union on this vital subject, are often lasting as life, and they seriously affect
the destinies of the children.
It has been thought unreasonable that the relation of
each party to the other should be restricted for life to a
single individual. But when we consider, that the equality
of the sexes in number is the same now as it was at the
beginning, when God "made them male and female," and
thus by his creative act constituted them to unite inpair8s;
and when we consider, further, that the laws of both body
and mind, and the united voices of all human experience,
affirm that the benign purposes of the institution can be
fully secured in no other way, the entire reasonableness
of the restriction is put for ever at rest.
346 
REVEALED PRINCIPLES OF MORALITY.
PUBLIC WORSHIP.
The public worship of God was an institution of the
.Aosaic religion, and was modified and adopted by Christianity. All pagan nations have some forms of public
worship, and the more cultivated of them, as the Greeks
and Romans, erected for this purpose temples and altars.
Sometimes they erected temples even to "unknown gods;"
so urgent is the feeling in man that he ought to worship.
But in the Christian religion, the public worship of
"the only living and true God " is instituted with a simplicity and a distinctness beautifully appropriate to its
sublime object. We are there taught to worship God
"n pirit and  t ruth."  While Christ was upon earth,
he worshipped thus with his disciples; and after his death,
they were accustomed to assemble for the same worship
upon the Christian Sabbath; thus transmitting to us, by
their example as well as teaching, not only the institution
itself, but the nature of the service enjoined.
This public worship of God was not designed to supersede private devotion, nor any personal and relative duties
whatever, but to provide for the social religious principle
of our nature; to afford us opportunity to pay our united
homage to our common Lord and Saviour, and thus to
anticipate upon earth the eternal worship above.
THE CHURCH.
A covenant existed between the people of God under
the ancient dispensation, which has been modified and
perpetuated in the form of the Christian churchl.  The
church was instituted by the apostles, under the immediate guidance of heaven; it was by them planted in nu
347 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
merous places, and great numbers were added to it under
their ministry.
In Palestine, in Asia-Minor, in Macedonia, in Greece,
in Rome, the apostles preached the Gospel with success,
and established churches.  These churches were visibly
separate bodies, having local interests; but they were
spiritually one and the same church of their common
Lord and Saviour. They were all one in Christ.
The institution of the Christian church has descended
to us, with all its divine sanctions. It is as obligatory
upon us, as it was upon Christians of the first century.
The same reasons still exist, why Christians should publicly espouse the cause of their Master, acknowledge their
faith in him, and covenant with each other in sacred fellowship.  Man is still the same being, and Christianity is
still the same religion. And experience has abundantly
proved, that the Christian church, in its pure state, is an
advocate and support of every virtue and morality, and a
"pillar and ground of the truth."
The Christian church has two ordinances, Baptism, and
the Lord's Supper.
BAPTISM.-The ordinance of baptism seems to have
been observed, ill some form, before the advent of Christ.
John the Baptist, his forerunner, administered it, and
Christ himself was baptized by him on entering upon his
great mission. Although Christ did not himself baptize,
he commanded his disciples to do so.  In obedience to
his instruction, wherever they preached the Gospel successfully they also baptized.
And that the ordinance might not be restricted to that
particular age or people, Christ gave to his disciples as
his last command, after his resurrection, "Go ye, therefore, and teach all nations, baptizing them  in the name
of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost;
348 
REVEALED PRINCIPLES OF MORALITY.
and lo I am with you always, even unto tAe end of the
world." Thus authorized, the ordinance is to descend to
the end of time.
Baptism seems to have been appropriated by Christianity as a badge or seal of discipleship, and an emblem
of purification. As an ordinance of the Christian church,
it indicates the purity required of those who become
members of it, and serves to perpetuate its identity, distinctness, and organic power.
THE LORD's SUPPER.-This ordinance was enjoined by
Christ, a short time before his death. Its design is clearly
indicated by his own words. " Jesus took bread, and
blessed, and brake it, and gave to them, and said, Take,
eat; this is my body. And he took the cup, and when
he had given thanks, he gave it to them; and they all
drank of it. And he said unto them, This is my blood
of the New Testament, which is shed for many."  This
ordinance is then designed to commemorate the death of
Christ. With this view it was transmitted, by his authority, to Christians of all ages.
" For I have received of the Lord," an apostle informs
us, " that which also I delivered unto you, that the Lord
Jesus, the same night in which he was betrayed, took
bread; and when he had given thanks, he brake it, and
said, This is my body, which is broken for you; this do
in remembrance of me. After the same manner also he
took the cup, when he had supped, saying, This cup is
the New Testament in my blood, this do ye, as oft as ye
drink it, in remembrance of me. For as often as ye eat
this bread and drink this cup, ye do show the Lord's
death till he come." *
That there should be a special ordinance to commem
* Matt. 26: 26.  1 Cor. 11:
349 
MORAL PHILOSOPRHY.
orate so important an event as the death of Christ, is in
the highest degree reasonable; while the severe and repeated self-inspection enjoined as a prerequisite to its
observance, must, if faithfully performed, be greatly conducive to purity of heart and life.  " Let a man examine
himself; and so let him eat."
CIVIL GOVERNMENT.
Civil Government, like the preceding institutions, is
not a mere conventional arrangement of men. It is a
divine institution. It was formally sanctioned, and duties
respecting it were enjoined, in both the Old and the New
dispensations from heaven. To fulfil their destiny, men
must live in society; and it was not the will of God, that
they should dwell together in a state of anarchy. Accordingly we find civil government existing, by his
appointment, under guidance of the Patriarchs, and subsequently under the leadership of Moses; and obedience
to its laws was by him enforced with severe penalties.
When Christ came, he did not annul the institution,
but inculcated the duty of sustaining it. Hle distinguished between temporal and spiritual governments,
and required due regard to both. HIe enjoined obedience
to all civil laws, so far as they are consistent with the
laws of God.
SUMMARY.
We have thus briefly noticed the leading doctrines
and institutions of Christianity. The reader will see that
by this religion we understand the entire revelation made
to ius in the Bible, of which Christianity is the consummation. The rules of conduct which it prescribes are
called revealed principles, in distinction from those which
350 
REVEALED PRINCIPLES OF MORALITY.
are purely natural. The latter are also essential, having
their reason and authority in themselves, while the former
are positive, resting their claim upon the authority of
divine revelation.
But Christianity enjoins also the natural principles of
morality as well as those which she reveals. She would
have us not fail to be true to nature, as well as to herself;
she therefore teaches us that we can be dutiful to her, only
as we are so to nature also. She embraces in her wide
domain the entire ground of both natural and revealed moralitv. She holds it to be as immoral in us to violate a
principle of the one as of the other. Arraigned at her
bar, an act of injustice to a fellow-being is as truly an
immorality as the profanation of the Sabbath; and the
worship of God is as binding upon every individual as
the duty of temperance.
We have considered the evidences for Christianity only
so far as they are involved in a purely moral view. Our
single inquiry has been, What is right? What ought to
be?  We have seen that the requirements of Christianity,
so far as they are viewed in the light of morality taught
by nature and approved by conscience, are wholly reasonable and just, and that we cannot disown the morality of
Christianity without disowning that of nature also. But
there are also positive external evidences of her divine
mission, which no man has ever been able to refute. They
have become established historical facts, as truly so as
those relating to Grecian and Roman history. The examination of these does not come within the design of the
present work.
But the thoughtful reader will not fail to see that even
the purely moral claims of Christianity, which are only a
part of its internal evidences, are convincing proof of its
divine origin, while the flood of clear light which it pours
351 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
upon the feeble teachings of nature, and its revelation of
new and momentous truths rising high above them, impose upon us peculiar and most weighty obligations. For
in a strictly moral view, our obligations are in proportion
to what we receive. Where much is given, much is also
justly required; hence no moral system can be entire
which leaves the claims of Christianity out of view.
Christianity, as I have before said, does not make us
accountable beings; nor is she responsible for the helpless
and miserable condition in which she finds us. She finds
us as we are; she had no agency in making us so. Her
entire mission to us is one of mercy and redemption. Nor
was her mission uncalled for by our condition. There
was no other eye to pity, no other arm to save. Without
her aid, despite of all his science and philosophy, man is
in deep darkness respecting the most important of all subjects.  He is an awful mystery to himself.  He stands
trembling, with one foot in the grave, on the verge of an
unknown eternity, with a burden of guilt upon his conscience and of sorrow in his heart. He and the world
must soon part for ever, and what then remains to him?
A conscious existence? And if so, must he bear that guilt
and that sorrow for ever?  May he never look up and behold a smiling God, and bright heavens above and around
him?  Must the last throb of expiring nature, for aught he
can see, separate him for ever from all that renders his existence desirable? Is there any name given under heaven
amongst men, whereby he can be saved from sin, from
sorrow, from the fear of death, from the grave itself, and
be made to realize the lofty aspirations of his rational and
immortal being?
In vain does he invoke the heathen oracles, in vain
summon all the philosophers of the olden and the modern
times, in vain importune science, in its profoundest re
352 
REVEALED) PRINCIPLES OF MORALITY.
searches, to answer these inquiries. All human tongues,
all science, and all nature, are here silent. Even the
shining orbs of heaven, that hymn so eloquently their
Maker's praise, and which inspired thie sublimest strains
of the royal minstrel, are voiceless here. It is in this our
deep and fearful necessity, that Christianity comes to our
rescue. By embracing her friendly hand and following
her guidance, myriads have already overcome sin, temptation, and the fear of death, and have left behind them a
shining path, through which they ascended into the
heavens. She has the same triumphs for myriads more;
for us and for all who will receive her.  Does she not,
then, impose upon us a special obligation?  Is it not a
fearful wrong, a vast and terrible immorality, to neglect
this great salvation?
Unless all history and experience are false, in rejecting Christianity we reject the only means adequate to the
salvation we need. This faith, ruling the heart and life,
is the only victory that overcomes the world. Without
this, there is no overcoming; life is all undercoming, from
the beginning to the end of it. The mark is ever low,
the vision short and dimn, the arm feeble; and even the
bravest and most successful man, in the very act of reaching forth to grasp his wretched all, stumbles into his grave,
and is soon forgotten! The winds sigh for a little time
around his grave, and the storms of a few winters sweep
over it, but finally even the winds forget where his dust
was laid, and know not where to sing his requiem.
" Oh, what is this world," says an excellent author, in
language whose beauty and force are equalled only by its
severe and exact truthfulness, " when we have turned away
from the cross of Christ, and from the instruction which
God has given us in his word?  M an is seen upon the
earth a strange being, playing a strange part, and encir
353 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
cled by mysteries. iHe has been created he knows not by
whom, or when, or for what end. Hie 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.
He 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 if there might be help there, but
none appears."
" His eye poureth out tears" as it is lifted towards
the skies; it gazes intensely for light, but not a ray is
seen. Hiis 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." *
Our references to Christianity have thus far been with
a view to showing its coincidence with the natural principles of morality, its adaptation to our constitution and
necessities, the intrinsic reasonableness and justice of its
claims, and, along with these, the positive obligations it
imposes upon us, on the supposition that its divine authority is admitted.
* "The Way of Salvation," by Albert Barnes, p. 57.
354
is  
REVEALED PRINCIPLES OF MORALITY.
If any of my readers demand other and more positive
demonstrations of its divine authority, I must refer them
to authors especially devoted to that service.   In expounding the code of moral duties, I shall assume that
the divine claims of Christianity are admitted.   Pure
morality enjoins, as we have seen, supreme regard to the
will of God. That will is made known to us in the essential principles of duty addressed to every man's conscience
by the light of nature, and in the revealed principles of
duty furnished us by the Bible.  These, united, are GOD's
COMIPREENSrVE LAW, our supreme and ultimate RULE OF
RIGHT, in obedience to which we are to secure the true
end for which we were made.
355  
PART V.
THE CODE OF DUTIES.
CHAPTER I.
RELIGIOUS DUTIES.
WE are now prepared to expound the code of duties.
Having examined their grounds and principles, we are
next to explain and enforce them, presenting them in connection as constituting a complete systemn of practical morality. We begin with religious duties, or our duties to
God.
In the highest sense we owe all our duties to God, as
the subjects of his supreme authority; duties to ourselves
and our fellow-creatures being demanded by his law.  But
we are now to consider those duties which we owe to
God directly and exclusively. We are morally bound to
be religious. We owe duties supremely to God, as well
as subordinately to our fellow-beings.  " Will a        zan/ rob
God  "  If a man is guilty who robs his fellow, much 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
more is he who robs his Maker. Let us then proceed to
consider our strictly religious duties, as demanded by the
principle of moral obligation.
THE DUTY OF OBEDIENCE TO GOD.
Why is it our duty to obey the will of God? The an
swer to this question will appear in the following facts:
1. His perfections render him WORTHY of our obedience.
He is a being of infinite power, wisdom, justice, and benevolence. All those attributes which we were made to
reverence and obey, exist in him in the highest possible
degree. They shine forth in all his works like the sun in
the firmament. We cannot open our eyes without beholding them; and we see them all engaged in sustaining
and blessing the universe which he has made.
2. He is our CREATOR. To him we owe our existence.
But for his sovereign pleasure, we should have had no
part nor lot in the universe. Yonder sun might have
walked the skies as brightly as he now does; the morning
stars might have sung together as sweetly; the heavenly
choirs might have rolled up as loud and harmonious antheins of praise; Jehovah might have been as great and
glorious in all his works, though our existence had been
no10 part of his purpose. It is then of his generosity alone
that we exist, and are put in relation to the wealth of the
universe.
3. He is our PRESERVER.  Our obligation to his preserving care is as constant as the moments of our lives.
Should he withhold his sustaining power, we must instantly perish.  "Thou hidest thy face, they are troubled;
thou takest away their breath, they die and return to the
dust." This was said of the brute creation, and is equally
true of us. Whether we are asleep or awake, we depend
358 
THE CODE OF DUTIES.
upon his guardian care, to deal out to us one breath after
another, and send the warm currents of life through our
veins.
4. I-le is our BENEFACTOR. All the blessings we enjoy
come of his hand.  " The eyes of all wait upon thee, and
thou givest them their meat in due season. Thou openest
thine hand, and satisfiest the desire of every living thing."
Every moment comes to us laden with the fruits of his
bounty. Through all our senses, through all our powers
of thought and feeling, he ministers to our enjoyment.
By day and by night, at home and abroad, in health and
in sickness, amid all the vicissitudes of life, from the
cradle to the grave, we are the constant recipients of his
gifts.
5. He is our RIGHTFUL RULER.  Hie has made us capable of knowing his will, and of perceiving our obligations
to obey it. Hie reigns over the universe to uphold its
laws and promote its welfare, through the willing and
obedient service of his accountable subjects.  If we disregard his pleasure and refuse to serve him, if we thus
set our wills in opposition to his, we are both false to him
and to the interests of the moral kingdom over which he
reigns.
6. Hie is our REDEEMER. We have rebelled against
him, and have thus rendered ourselves obnoxious to his
justice.   But instead of inflicting its demands upon us,
he has graciously provided for our redemption. Hie "so
loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that
whosoever believeth on him should not perish, but have
eternal life."   "For ye are not your own, but ye are
bought with a price; wherefore glorify God in your spirit and in your bodies, which are his."
359 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
NATURE OF THE SERVICE DUE.
Thus the claim of God to our service is predicated
upon his intrinsic worthiness, and his relation to us as our
Creator, Preserver, Benefactor, Ruler, and Redeemer.
This service should be cordial, sureme, reverental, constant.
It should be cordial.  Our whole heart should go with
it. It should be our meat and drink to do the will of God.
"I delight to do thy will, O my God; yea, thy law is
witAin my heart." Such should be our feelings in relation to the service of God.
It should be supreme. All other demands should give
place to those of God. To do his will, should be the
ruling motive of our lives. We have only to know what
he would have us do, and the path of duty is bright as a
sunbeam. To know his will is the highest study; to do
it, the highest morality.
It should be reverential. We should consider the
majesty of Him whom we attempt to serve.  He is " TEI
GREAT AND DREADFUL GOD."  At his presence "the pillars
of heaven tremble, and are astonished." If we would
acceptably serve a mere earthly potentate, we must do it
with profound respect. How much more should we revere the " KING of kings."  "Serve the Lord wittfear."
"Let all the earthfear the Lord; let all the inhabitants
of the world stand in awe of him."
It should be constant. The obedience required is not
that of individual and disconnected acts; it is a deep and
steady principle. It is like that mysterious power which
holds the planets in steady allegiance to the sun. In
some parts of their orbits they are nearer the sun and
move faster than at others, but their hold upon the glo
360 
THE CODE OF DUTIES.
rious object of their devotion is never relaxed for a
moment.*
DUTY IN REFERENCE TO TIE WORD OF GOD.
We have in our hands a BOOK of very ancient writings, claiming to be of divine authority, and hence called
the Word of God.  Of all the books ever written, this has
exerted immeasurably the most power over the character
and destinies of mankind.  Under its influence, we see
men reclaimed from vice to lives of virtue and benevolence; we see even whole nations redeemed from sottish
idolatry to the rational and pure worship of the only living and true God.  The most enlightened, virtuous, enterprising, and efficient people in the world, are precisely
those most under the influence of this wonderful Book.
What then is our duty in respect to it? Evidently,
to "search" it, with great care; and, if we have any
doubt of its divine authority, to examine its credentials.
The subject is too important to be neglected.  A book
claiming to contain a revelation from God, and attended
with so many wonderful demonstrations of its divine
origin and power, cannot be innocently disregarded.
If any one upon due examination professes to believe
the book false, we must leave the strange person to his
own thoughts, while we consider the duties implied in a
rational conviction of its truth.
Receiving the Bible as from God, we ought to hold it
in great reverence. To trifle with it; to quote from it
with a view to pleasantry and jest; to question its vera(:ity, or impugn its authority; in short, to treat it as we
would a book of mere human origin, is immoral and profane. We are ever to consider that this book has the
* The nature of the affection due to God has been considered in a previous
chapter.  See page 169.
.-')$61
I6 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
seal of God upon it; and if he will not hold him guiltless
who taketh his name in vain, no more will he hold him
guiltless who taketh his word in vain.
Still the Bible is a rational book, given in the language of men; and it is to be examined, interpreted, and
applied, by the same rules which we apply to other books.
We should read and study it, with the sincerity and earnestness becoming such a book, and with a prayerful
desire to know its meaning. We should regard it as
dutiful children would daily letters of instruction from a
revered and beloved parent. We should thus keep our
consciences enlightened in respect to duty.
We  should faithfully follow its instructions.  Every
truth taught ill the Bible we should eagerly embrace;
every duty inculcated we should promptly obey.  It is
only as we thus honor it that we may hope to understand
it, and thus become wiser and better by its teachings.
" If any man will do his will, he shall know of the doctrine." If there are portions of the Bible which we do
not at first understand, this is the way to understand
them. " Thy word is a light to my feet and a lamp to
my path."  "I have more understanding than all my
teachers, because I keep thy testimoonies."  " Search the
Scriptures, for in them ye think ye have eternal life; and
these are they which testify of me."
Better to be without all other books in the world,
than to be without the Bible; better to neglect all other
books, than to neglect this. " Young man," said Benjamin Franklin, when near his end, " my advice to you is,
that you cultivate an acquaintance with and form a belief in the Holy Scriptures."  "Attend," said Dr. Samuel
Johnson, " to the voice of one who has possessed a certain
degree of fame in the world, and who will shortly appear
before his Maker.  Read the Bible every day of your
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THE CODE OF DUTIES.
life." The great philosopher, John Locke, gives his advice thus:" Study the Holy Scriptures, especially the
New Testament. Hiere are contained words of eternal
life.  It has God for its Author, salvation for its end,
and truth, without any mixture of error, for its matter."
THE DUTY OF REPENTANCE AND FAITH.
We are not only dependent and accountable, but sinful.  This is true of us all.  "All have sinned."  This
fact makes it the duty of all to repent.  "God commandeth
all men, every where, to repent." " Except ye repent,
ye shall all likewise perish."
An offence against a fellow-being, is a fault or crime;
an offence against God is a sin. Hence David said to God,
"Against thee, thee only, have I sinned." Hie had committed crime against man, but sin against God. Hience an
offence against a fellow-being calls for confession and
amendment; while an offence against God calls also for
repentance.   The reason is that repentance is a deep
spirittal work, and God has to do with the heart.
Repentance of sin is not, as is often imagined, a mere
painful excitement of the sensibilities, through fear of the
divine displeasure; nor a feeling of mere regret for sin,
in view of its natural consequences; nor the feeling termed
remorse, inflicted by an offended conscience; nor a mere
sentimental emotion, produced in view of sin by an excited imagination; it is sincere conrition and cordial
aversion for all sin, as an offence against God.
It is always attended with earnest desires for purity
of heart and life, and with vigorous endeavors after it;
with a disposition to confess every sin to God, and to forsake it; with a feeling of dependence upon divine grace;
with a sweetening of the social temper, and, so far as is
needed, with reformation of conduct.
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MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
Religious faith is a hearty trust or con,fdence in God.
Although the terms belief and faith are often used in the
Scriptures synonymously, yet faith is more than mere belief. Belief may be only an act of the intellect; faith always includes also an act of the heart.   " For with the
heart man believeth unto righteousness." As God is infinitely worthy of our confidence, to withhold from him
our faith is a great sin, and the source of all other sins.
On the other hand, faith in God is the crowning act of
obedience, and the mainspring of all obedience. "' Without faith, it is impossible to please him."
As God has graciously offered us pardon and salvation
through the Gospel, saving faith has a special reference
to this overture.   This is sometimes called evangelical
faith, because it refers particularly to the gospel. It cordially welcomes the proclamation made by the Gospel, and
places implicit reliance upon its proffered grace. Such
faith works by love, imparts a filial spirit, transforms the
character, and gives victory over sin and death.
THE DUTY OF PRAYER AND PRAISE.
The duty of prayer and praise, or what is usually
called worshi, has been ever recognized, in some form,
by all religions. Christian prayer is the language of the
human heart, addressed to God through Christ. It speaks
to hiln of sins, fears, trials, wants; it supplicates his pardon, and seeks his favor. It is humble, earnest, believing,
submissive.
It is hunble. It is the offering of a contrite spirit.
"The sacrifices of God are a broken, spirit, a broken and a
contrite heart, 0 God, thou wilt not despise." One of the
most acceptable prayers ever offered, was in these words,
" God be merciful to me a sinner."
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THE CODE OF DUTIES.
It is earnest.  Realizing his pressing necessity, the
suppliant pleads as for his life. We read of one, " who
in the days of his flesh, when he had offered up prayers
and supplications, with strong crying and tears, unto him
that was able to save him from death, was heard in that
he feared." Multitudes have successfully followed his
example. Our Saviour has set us the same. He sometimes continued all night in prayer; and on one occasion
the agony of his soul was such that he " prayed the more
earnestly, and his sweat was, as it were, great drops of
blood falling down to the ground."   " The effectual fervent prayer of the righteous man availeth muach." There
is not a promise in the Bible to a cold and heartless
prayer.
It is believing.  " He that cometh to God must believe
that he is, and that he is a rewarder of those that diligently seek him."  Christ said, " What things soever ye
desire, when ye pray, betlieve that ye receive them, and ye
shall receive them."  It is an insult to God, to ask him to
fulfil his promises, without believing that he will do so.
As unbelief is the parent sin, and faith the parent grace,
it is only as we pray in faith that we can pray aright, and
thus avail with God.
It is submtisive.  The grace of the Holy Spirit is the
only gift absolutely promised to prayer. For this only
may we pray with invincible importunity and an assurance
of receiving precisely what we ask. "i How much more
shall your Heavenly Father give the HUoly Spirit to them
that ask him." We should ask for mere earthly blessings,
with a deep conviction of our incapacity to know what is
best for us, and with submission to the ultimate decisions
of divine wisdom. However earnestly we may desire
what we seek, we should say, as Christ did, "iVeverthele8ss
not as I will, but as thou wilt."
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MORAL PHILOSOPHEY.
Such is the spirit of Christian prayer. We add, that
it may beprivate, social, or public.
Private prayer is the offering of an individual heart
alone to God.   This is the spring of all true devotion;
since none but those who pray in secret, can pray acceptably to God in public. Christ uttered the severest rebukes upon those who pray to be seen of men. " And
when thou prayest, thou shalt not be as the hypocrites
are; for they love to pray standing in the synagogues,
and in the corners of the streets, that they may be seen
of men. Verily I say unto you, they have their reward.
But thou, when thou prayest, enter into thy closet, and
when thou hast shut thy door, pray to thy Father which
is in secret, and thy Father which seeth in secret shall
reward thee openly." In the closet the heart opens all
its wants, freely confesses its sins, and pours out its desires
for personal good and for blessings upon others, with a
freedom enjoyed only in secret. Jesus Christ was much
alone in prayer.
Social prayer is the united offering of several hearts
at once, in a small social gathering.  Of this kind isfamily prayer. Even the heathens have their household gods
and their family offerings. The mutual relations of husband and wife, of parents and children, and of children
of the same family, are so intimate and peculiar, that their
social recognition of dependence upon God, and their
united supplication of his favor, is a most natural and
important duty.   Children can scarcely enjoy a greater
earthly blessing, than that of being daily conducted by
Christian parents to the throne of grace at the family altar. Long after their parents have become silent in the
grave, they will remember their prayers with gratitude
and joy. On the contrary, the divine malediction will
fall alike upon heathen and upon prayerless families.
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TIHE CODE OF DITTIES.
" Pour out thy fury upon the heathen that know thee not,
and upon the families that call not upon tAy name."
Public prayer is the united offering of the hearts of
God's people, when assembled in his house of worship.
The devotional parts of the Old Testament are replete
with public prayers; and the example and teachings of
Christ and of his apostles, admonish us that public acts
of devotion are a part of religious duty.  The most beautiful and comprehensive model of public prayer is furnished
in the words of Christ himself. In this form, called the
Lord's Prayer, are embraced most of the essential ideas
which usually enter into the public petitions of Chlristians.
Religious Praise is an expression of gratitude, adoration, and joyful homage to God, in view of his glorious
perfections, and of blessings which he has bestowed upon
us. It is as truly a duty as prayer, and is as earnestly enjoined in the Scriptures. It is, like prayer, private, social,
and public. It is a pleasing consideration, that this part
of religious devotion will not cease at death. We have no
reason to suppose that there will be prayer in heaven, but
we are assured that praise will enter largely into the employments of the heavenly state.
The question is often asked, why prayer and praise are
enjoined, since they cannot benefit God?   Knowing our
wants before we ask, as well as after, why does he wait to
be requested? and why demand our praise, which can
add nothing to his glory? The answer is briefly this.
The affairs of the world move on, for obvious reasons, in
an established order of sequence. Each event is preceded
by another preparatory to it.  No blessing comes to us
without its appropriate antecedent. If the grass is to
grow, there must be rain; if there is to be rain, there
must be clouds; and if clouds, the causes which form
367 
MORAL PHILOSOPHIY.
them. The same law of antecedence obtains in the kingdom of mind. It is as unphilosophical to say that prayer,
the divinely appointed antecedent to the gift of the Holy
Spirit, has no agency in securing the desired blessing, as
to say that the cloud has no agency in producing rain.
God could doubtless give us rain without clouds, and so
he could give us the Holy Spirit without prayer, but that
is not his way.
But as in the natural world so also in the spiritual, we
can see some reasons for this arrangement. The devout
homage of prayer and praise _prepares the mind for the
favors sought. The mind is thus turned to God as the
source of all blessings. Feelings of dependence and gratitude are enkindled. The very act of looking to God in
prayer and praise, implies the work of the Spirit already
commenced; and the answer to the prayer prepares the
soul to receive yet larger gifts of the Spirit, and with them
all other blessings.
TIHE DUTY OF OBSERVING THE SABBATIt.
How are we required to keep the Sabbath?
1. As a day of rest from secular labor.  The command is, " Thou shalt do no work."  But we are to give a
reasonable interpretation to this command as well as to
all others. The law of God, in reference to which all
commands are to be interpreted, is a law of love and
kindness.  Hence to do such things upon the Sabbath as
attending upon the sick, burying the dead, taking care of
our beasts, serving our needful food, preventing the destruction of property, as in the cased of fire, is sanctioned
by the example of Christ, and the obvious principles of
humanity.  These are usually called "works of necessity
and mercy." The Jews, who had mistaken the spirit of the
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THIE CODE OF DUTIES.
command, rebuked Christ for doing such things upon the
Sabbath.  He replied, that "the Sabbath was ma'de for
man and not man for the Sabbath." By which he meant,
that the Sabbath was made to ble8ss man, not to bring him
into bondage.
The command to observe it embraces children, servants, beasts, guests, " all that is within thy gates." We
are thus required not only to rest ourselves, but to cause
all under our control to rest with us.
2. As a day of abstinTence from  the pursuits of
p7leasure.  "If thou turn," &c. "from  doing thine own
pleasure; "-" not doing thine own ways, nor fnding thine
own pleasure, nor speaking thine own words, then shalt
thou delight thyself in the Lord," &c.* We may hence
violate the Sabbath by so indulging the pleasures of the
table as to produce dulness of mind, by taking excursions
for amusement; by secular reading and conversation, by
social visiting and recreation, in a word, by any employmnent whose direct object is worldly pleasure.
3. As a day of religious devotion.  It is a day consecrated to religious reading, meditation, and prayer. On
this day, therefore, we ought to spend more time than we
can usually afford upon other days, in reading the Scriptures and other religious books, in self-examination, and
in private devotions.
The day is consecrated also to the public worship of
God. His express command, and the example of his
people in all ages, admonish us to assemble together upon
the Sabbath, to engage in united acts of public devotion.
Those who neglect the worship of God in the sanctuary,
on pretence of offering more acceptable service in private,
or amidst the works of nature, usually give feeble evidence
* Isaiah 58: 13.
16*
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MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
of possessing any of the true spirit of piety, and frequently
sink at last into avowed infidelity.
OTHER DUTIES CONNECTED WITH THE SABBATH.
The other religious duties connected with the Sabbath
are, a public profession of religion, observance of the
sacraments of Baptism and the Lord's Supper, sustaining
the preaching of the gospel, and contributing to the extension of Christianity over the earth.  Indeed, the Sabbath is so related to all religious duties, that a faithful observance of it goes very far towards securing them all.
He who is truly religious upon the Sabbath, is a religious man through the week. It can never be justly said
of him, as unhappily it may of some, that although he
seems to have excellent gifts of prayer in the house of
God, he has other gifts less desirable in the place of
business. His Sabbath consecrates the entire week to
truth, justice, purity; to the fear and service of God. He
is as conscientious in the shop as in the prayer-mneeting;
in the exchange as in the church. The precept is written
upon his heart, never to be erased, "WVtether therefore ye
eat or drink, or wAatsoever ye do, do all7 to the glory of
God."
Such is the truly religious man. His is the religion
of sound morality, and the morality of true religion. His
spirituality is strictly moral, and his morality has the
strength, grandeur, and glory which only spiritual mindedness can impart. Although his present sphere of action
is upon earth, his motives are drawn from eternity.  Ihis
choicest treasures are all safely garnered up where moth
and rust doth not corrupt, and with calm assurance he
awaits his everlasting rest in the bosom of God.
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CHAPTER II.
PER S ON AL DUTI E S.
XEXT to the duties which every accountable being owes
to his God, are those which he owes to himself.   These
last are what we termpersonal duties.  There are certain
very essential things which every person can and must
do for himself; or they must remain for ever undone; as
no other being can do them for himt. He is morally bound
to do them.   The doing of them  is directly due to hilmself, and also indirectly due to others; for he owes it to
others, as well as to himself, to pursue the course which
best promotes his own welfare. The duties in question
are self-respect, self-control, self-defence, self-purity, selfproviding, self-cultutre, and self-salvation.
SELF-RESPECT.
There is an important distinction between self-respect
and self-esteem.   The latter partakes of vanity; the former implies that we do not dishonor ourselves, nor allow
others to do so.  " Let no man despise thee," is an injunc 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
tion binding upon all men. But no man can secure the
respect of others, unless he respects himself.
No sooner does a person cease to respect himself than
the nerve of his virtue is broken; his moral resolution
and his manliness are gone; he cannot stand erect and
look his fellow-man in the face.   A consciousness of being despised naturally leads to low, servile, despicable
acts, and thus gradually displaces whatever remains of
virtue.
But if it is a man's duty to respect himself, it is of
course his dtty, under all circumstances, in secret as well
as openly, to do nothing which will diminish his selfrespect. Many are anxious to secure the approbation of
others, even at the expense of their own. However desirable the good opinion of others, conscious integrity is
much more so.
We may be blind to our faults, and thus judge ourselves too favorably. This is a common error. But even
this is not so fatal to character as to perpetrate secret acts
of dishonesty, meanness, malice, or impurity, and realize
the withering consciousness of self-degradation which they
inevitably inflict.
Self-respect is also essential to a due sef-reliance, without which character has no firmness nor efficiency. No
man was ever truly great without it.
SELF-CONTROL.
This implies the due government of the temper, and that
restraint of other active propensities which we denominate temperance.
"Hle that is slow to anger is better than the mighty;
and he that ruleth kis spirit, than he that taketh a city."
Alexander conquered the world, but he never conquered
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THE CODE OF DUTIES.
himself. Many a hero has encountered armies, stormed
citadels, and subdued kingdoms, who never mastered his
own temper.
A man of hasty temper is his own worst enemy. lHe
betrays himself to the mercy of his antagonist.  Many
have thus not only lost their character and influence, but
even their lives. In a fit of passion they have done that
which, in all after life, they have been condemned to
weep over with unavailing tears.
Anger is not always wrong, but uncontrolled anger is
both wrong and dangerous. Even the best friend is not
safe in its presence. It breaks covenants, betrays trusts,
alienates friendship, and deals mortal blows upon the head
of innocence.  It is a frenzied wild beast let loose.  It
perpetrates crimes in a moment, which the agony of a
lifetime cannot atone for.
It should, therefore, be among the first endeavors of the
child, to govern his temper. As he advances in years, lihe
should accustom himself, when angry, to pause and reflect
before acting. A man of hasty temper learned to control
himself by pausing to count a hundred, when he was
angry, before he spoke or acted. The only cure of a hasty
spirit is time.
But self-control, in the broad sense, includes the cardinal virtue of temperance. There is a limit to healthful
endurance and action, to transcend which is intemperance.
That limit is indicated by the point at which effort and
pleasure cease to invigorate, and are followed by permanent loss of energy. It may be difficult to determine
always this precise point; but careful observation will
soon teach us how far it is wise to indulge.
Despite of prudence, however, we are sometimes liable
to err; and there is provision for this in our constitution.
An occasional slight excess, if followed by abstinence and
373 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
caution, usually results in no obvious permanent injury.
This elasticity of constitution was necessary to freedom of
action. Without it, all our labors and pleasures would
need to be measured by so exact a rule, and inspected
with so severe vigilance, as to render them mechanical.
A truly temperate man acts unconstrainedly. Nature
is in a great measure his guide. If he incidentally toils
or indulges too much at any time, nature suggests to him
the alternative of corresponding rest and abstinence
Thus, within reasonable limits, nature holds the balance
and adjusts the weights for him, that he may act the freeman and not the slave.
But the habitual transgressor will not go unpunished.
He who habitually overtaxes the mind, precipitates himself into mental imbecility, and sometimes into insanity.
He who habitually overworks the body, induces debility
and shortens life.
But such are slight offences, in a moral view, compared
with the undue indulgence of the apvetites. A person
may overtax both body and mind in a good cause, and
from benevolent motives. But it is quite different with
the indulgence of the appetites. MIen do not indulge these
to excess from any benevolent motive, but always from a
grovelling lust of pleasure.
In this indulgence, however, they soon defeat their
own end. For a few momentary gratifications, they barter away their liberty, their manhood, their souls; and
become the wretched slaves of exorbitant and tormenting
desires. "A man so enslaved by his animal appetites,
exhibits humanity. in one of its most miserable and contemptible forms. As an additional proof of the misery of
such a state, it is of great importance to remark, that,
while habit strengthens all our active determinations, it
diminishes the liveliness of our passive impress8ions; a
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TIE CODE OF DUTIES.
remarkable instance of which occurs in the effects produced by an immoderate use of strong liquors, which, at
the same time that it confirms the active habit of intemperance, deadens and destroys the sensibility of the palate. In consequence of this law of our nature, the evils
of excessive indulgence are doubled; inasmuch as our
sensibility to pleasure decays in proportion as the cravings
of appetite increase. In general, it will be found, that
whenever we attempt to enlarge the sphere of enjoyment
beyond the limits prescribed by nature, we frustrate our
own purpose." *
A habit of strict and uniform self-control, in all particulars, early formed and maintained through life, is
among the greatest of earthly blessings. It is at the basis
of all other virtues, and the most important element of success in every calling. Health, cheerfulness, vigor of mind,
purity of desire, efficiency, long and useful life, are its
natural attendants. "i He that striveth for the mastery is
temperate in all thtings."
SELF-DEFENCE.
Some ultra-moralists have pushed the doctrine of forbearance to the extreme of non-resistance.   The precept
of Christ, "Whosoever shall smite thee on thy right cheek,
turn to him the other also," which was obviously designed
to inculcate a meek and forbearing s8pirit, they have interpreted by the letter; so as to deny even the right of
personal self-defence.
We are admonished that the " letter killeth, but the
spirit giveth life." That it was not the intention of Christ
to deny the right in question, and that it is not only a
right but a duty, is manifest from the following facts:
* Stewart, Active and Moral Powers, p. 11.
375 
MORAL PIIILOSOPHY.
1. Our Saviour himself and his disciples have set as
the example of self-defence. They defended themselves
not only by fleeing from danger, by rebutting malicious
attacks upon their character, and by prudently thwarting
the designs of their enemies, but by actually arming
themselves with deadly weapons, having reference to
any emergency in which self-protection might require
them.*
2. Self-defence is dictated by an insttnet of our nature. All of our constitutional impulses have designs,
which we have no right to frustrate. That one which respects personal safety and welfare, is as clearly marked
and certain as any principle of our nature.
3. Every person is the constituted guardian of Aimnself. Hils life and happiness are more important to him
than to any other being; for this reason they are placed
primarily in his own hands. No fellow-being can do for
him what he can do for himself. Every person is a distinct centre of thought and power, whose first object naturally is his personal safety and happiness.
It is a man's duty to defend his person, his property,
and his reputation.
In case of a surprise, as when met by an assassin or
robber, he must take his protection, at once, into his own
hands. iHe must defend himself, if need be, at the risk
of the aggressor's life. If either is to be put to death, it
should evidently be the one who deserves it. IHe who
shrinks from self-defence, in such an emergency, is a
coward, and must suffer a coward's deserts. Such cowardice is self-desertion; and, if universal, would leave no
adequate protection to human life.
In all cases admitting the intervention of law, resort
* See Matth. 2: 13.  John 8: 40-59.  Luke 22: 36.
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TIIE CODE OF DUTIES.
should be had to it. For such cases the law was made.
He who does the duties of a good citizen, and pays his
tax to support government, is entitled to the law's protection. But if he snatches from the hands of law what
government has placed in them, he becomes himself a
culprit. The man who, impatient of revenge, takes the
life of a murderer under trial, is himself a murderer; and
the law justly holds him guilty.
What we have said of the defence of life, is equally
applicable to the defence of property. Robbery and theft
may sometimes call for personal and direct resistance;
but fraud, deception, forgery, &c., should be met by a
legal process.
When reputation is attacked by falsehood that cannot
be exposed without resort to law, the injured party may
Ainmsel7f expose it. Hle is under no obligation to incur the
expense of a court, nor to allow his reputation to suffer for
a single day, to await the slow process of law.  To expose falsehood, deceit, or any kind of crime, where personal protection or the public welfare demands it, is morally right.
But when the attack is of a nature to be more successfully repelled by a legal process, such a process should be
had. Attacks upon personal and professional reputation
involve so many particulars, and such various kinds of
evidence, as to render defence impracticable, except by a
severe legal investigation.
In what cases an injured man should resort to law, it
is the business of a candid counsellor to decide. Personal
feelings and comparative ignorance of law, usually render men incompetent judges in their own cause. Hie who
goes into court against wise counsel, for the benefit of his
good name, usually comes out with his name little if any
improved.
377 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
A barbarous method of self-defence is that of duelling.
Its folly is manifest in the fact, that it does nothing towards determining which party was originally in the
wrong. It adduces no evidence; it settles no question;
it passes no judgment.
Can we believe that the God of heaven interposes a
miracle to settle a question of innocence or guilt in this
way? It was once supposed that he does; and hence
the origin of duels. They were a bold appeal to God.
But that profane notion has passed away; the light of
Christianity condemns it. All enlightened minds have
discarded the belief that Providence teaches us truth and
duty thus.
The result of a duel decides only, which of the parties
could hold the firmest hand and aim the deadliest blow;
while the acceptance of a challenge only proves, that all
the folly and guilt were not confined to one side. It is to
be hoped, for the honor of humanity, that this stupid
method of self-defence will soon be among the monstrous
things that have been.
SELF-PURITY.
This includes the cardinal virtue of chastity, and is itself involved in the duty of self-control. But it implies
purity of imagination and feeling, as well as the control
of appetite. It is to the former that I now particularly
refer. No virtue is more essential to personal welfare.
When once the desires to which a vile imagination gives
rise have become a mental habit, a dark prospect opens
to the unhappy victim.
1. His body suffers. Insidious nervous affections invade it, tending to debility and early death. This connection between the vice and its effects may not be immediate and perceptible, but it is sure.
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THE CODE OF DUTIES.
2. His intellect suffers.   The calamity usually falls
more heavily upon the intellect than upon the body. The
fine prospects of many youths at school have thus been
blighted, by causes eluding the most vigilant guardianship. Listlessness, aversion to mental effort, feebleness
of memory, the want of resolution and perseverance, are
among the most significant attendants of the vice in question. Parents and teachers labor in vain to ennoble the
intellect that is debased by lust.
3. The heart suffers. The amiable affections, which
render husbands and wives, parents and children, neigh
bors and associates, happy in their mutual relations and
duties, are vitiated and impaired.   Lust and love, although they seem often to approach each other, and almost to unite, are yet mutual enemies. Their antagonism
increases as they approximate.   When the one is habitually harbored, the other is habitually excluded.  The
one is benevolent, the other is selfish; the one is from
above, the other from beneath.
4. ]Reason herself is sometimes dethroned. A large
portion of the victims of lunacy and idiocy, in the asylums of both continents, have been brought there, as statistics prove, by the vices in question.   But where one
person passes to the extremity and becomes a public example, hundreds suffer and perish on the way. Their
vices live and die mostly in their own bosoms. Multitudes enfeeble their health, impair their mental vigor,
curtail their usefulness, diminish their substantial enjoyments, and shorten their lives, by vices which only the
light of eternity will reveal.
The Scriptures are very explicit in condemnation of all
impurity. No judgments are heavier, no penalties more
severe, than those which they pronounce against this vice. *
* See Prov. 5: 3-29. 7: 5-26. GaL 5: 19-25. Matth. 5: 27-32. Lev.
10:22. Col. 5:6.
379 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
The following are the rules by which to preserve selfpurity:
1. Never allow the imagination to form impure images,
or to dwell upon scenes calculated to excite the sensual
passions.
2. Never frequent those kinds of theatrical or other
amusements, which tend to defile the imagination and inflame the lust of pleasure.
3. Avoid all those books whose chief attraction is that
they excite and please the mind, at the expense of enfeebling and debauching it.
4. Discard all such pictures, however beautiful and
fascinating, as tend to enkindle impure feelings.  There
are enough in the great world of fine arts, without them.
5. Lend no ear to conversation or songs of an impure
character. Every person who would protect his purity,
must guard the avenues to his mind through the ear as
well as the eye.
6. Never associate with lewd company. A person is
not only known by the company he keeps, but he is morally made by it. The young person who associates with
vile company, will surely be drawn into the vortex, and
go with them to destruction.
7. Most important of all, be ever interested and engaged it some worthy occupation.  This is the most successful antagonism to vice of every kind. He who has
on hand enough good work to do, and is intent on doing
it, has no time to foster and gratify a wanton imagination.
His tastes and pleasures are too elevated and inspiring to
assort with grovelling and vicious desires.
Such are rules for keeping the mind pure. Nor let
it be thought trifling with our subject, if, in the same connection, we speak of purity of body. Cleanliness is more
than mere decency; it is a virtue. The want of it is more
380 
THE CODE OF DUTIES.
than vulgarity; it is a vice. God enjoined upon a people
under his special care, the strictest observances with reference to their cleanliness. There is an intimate connection between purity of body and purity of mind, which
induced Addison to say, that cleanliness is next to God]iness. For this reason, the cleansing of the body was by
the Jews regarded as a part of their needful preparation
to worship God in his temple.
Not less important is this virtue to bodily health.  Many
of the most loathsome and fatal diseases come of the want
of cleanliness. Allowing the insensible perspiration to be
checked, and the free egress of the bodily wastes to be
prevented by impurities upon the skin, tends to vitiate
the secretions, injure the blood, impede the circulation,
and thus impair digestion and invite disease.
He who would be cleanly, must ordinarily wash his
entire person daily, at least during the warm seasons; must
cleanse his mouth and teeth, after meals and just before
retiring; must use the comb and brush sufficiently to keep
the head and hair clean; must wear clean apparel, at least
next to his person, so far as his employment allows; must
keep the atmosphere about him as pure as possible, by day
and by night; and must abstain from all grossness in eating and drinking. Hie will then have a clean person,
sweet breath, a pure and wholesome appearance, and will
usually enjoy good health. Hie will at least enjoy all the
better health for his cleanliness, and will be protected
against infectious diseases.
SELF-PROVIDING.
It is the duty of every person, so far as he can, to provide for MAs temporal wants.  This requires industry and
frugqlity.
381 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
INDuSTRY.-That industry which is prompted by instinct in brutes, is dictated by forethought in man.  The
whole irrational creation, down to the humble ant, teaches
us the lesson of industry.  "Go to the ant, thou sluggard,
consider er r ways and be wi8se; which, having no guide,
overseer, or ruler, provideth her meat in the summer, and
gathereth her food in the harvest."  " Seest thou a man
diligent in business? Hle shall stand before kings."  "The
hand of the diligent maketh rich."
We  are commanded to be "not s1othful  n business."
Let the habits of industry be early formed, so that labor
itself becomes a delight, and the foundation is laid for
success in any calling.
FRUGALITY.-Benjamin Franklin, by his lessons and
example of frugality, did much to make the people of
this rising republic what they have been in enterprise,
thrift, and wealth. But his lessons seem to have become
a dead letter. A greater benefit could scarcely be conferred upon us than to revive them.  The " hard times,"
of which he wrote and furnished the cure, are perpetually
recurring, and the same remedy is ever demanded.  To the
industrious and frugal man, all times are easy.  His wants
are few, his resources abundant, his cup always full.
Wealth and independence are terms indicating not the
quantity posse8ssed, but the quantity needed. Were all
children and youth, especially all persons setting forth
upon the responsibilities of business and family connections, accustomned to habits of reasonable frugality, those
disasters termed "failures" would be very few.  Broken
fortunes, broken hearts, want, despair, would be almost
unknown.
All young families who have their fortunes to make,
should adopt the rule of reserving a margin of at least one
fourth of their earnings, to accumulate for future increased
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THE CODE OF DUTIES.
wants. If their earnings are eight hundred dollars a year,
they should reserve two hundred to be on interest; if
their earnings are two thousand, they should reserve five
hundred. They will then never fail; and will be able to
educate their children. The same frugality will enable
them to contribute to benevolent objects. Frugality, not
luxury, is the parent of beneficence.
Prevailing frugality among a people is one of the
strongest pillars of national safety. So long as men enjoy
the abundance which frugality imparts, they are content
with their government, and combine to uphold it. But
when luxury begins to produce enervation, want, impatient lust, and daring recklessness, the foundations of
government tremble. The early period of a nation is the
one in which the people are frugal and thrifty, and of
course patriotic; the middle is the one in which the
children, inheriting abundance, are less frugal and more
self-indulgent; the final period is that of prevailing luxury, effeminacy, and bankruptcy, in which law and judgment are swept from the land by the surges of anarchy.
The remedy for all this is to be found only in the conscientious distribution of wealth to the various benevolent
objects suggested by Christian benevolence, and in the
perpetual inculcation and practice of the stern virtues of
industry and frugality.
SELF-CULTURE.
When a man duly respects, controls, and defends himself, when he keeps himself pure, and provides for his
wants, he thus far does well. But if he stops here, he
leaves the most important duties to himself undone. He
ought to cultivate his mzncz.  There is a mine of wealth
within him to be developed.  He will be mentally great
383 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
or small, poor or rich, according to the culture which he
bestows upon himself.
It is a great practical error of this age, that mental
culture is so much sought with reference only to business
and gain. These are subordinate aims, and the culture
which respects only these, is low and vulgar. Men of
only this culture have no inward resources. As soon as
they retire from business with a competency they become
unhappy. Having reached the condition most favorable
to repose, dignity, intellectual pursuits, rational greatness,
and influence, they expose a wretched poverty of intellect
by their incapacity for enjoyment.
Mental culture is not necessarily restricted to professional men. Eminent attainments have been made by
men  of various callings.   Benjamin Franklin  was  a
printer; George Washington was a farmer; Hlugh R. Miller was a mason. Let a young person firmly resolve on
self-cultuLre, and a systematic and persevering application
of his leisure time will insure the result.
He must be systematic. Talents of a very humble
order, systematically employed, have achieved wonders.
A methodical and exact distribution of time and duties,
can scarcely fail of splendid results. A man of thorough
system is seldom in a hurry, because he has a time for all
things. He rises early, and keeps time and duties ever
before him.
Few men, in the tug of life, can secure any other portions of time for self-culture than mornings and evenings.
Of these, the morning is usually the brightest and best.
With many it is the only time of which they can be sure.
By rising early, they can usually appropriate two hours in
the morning to languages, science, history, philosophy,
and other severe studies, which discipline the mind and
give it command and reach of thought. The evenings
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THE CODE OF DUTIES.
may then be devoted to lighter studies and amusements,
and to the entertainment of friends.
Men distinguished for self-culture have been usually
very systematic in the use of time, and have been early
risers. Such were Plato, Socrates, Julius Cesar, Martin
Luther, Newton, 3ilton, La Place, Napoleon, Franklin,
Webster, and many others scarcely less renowned.
But there must be withal perseverance.  It is not the
effort of a month, or of a year, that will suffice. Nothing
truly great and valuable comes but of steady and prolonged
labor. We are in a world of conflict. The avenue to
every object worth seeking is beset with difficulties.
Every man should lay his account with these, and nerve
his spirit to press valiantly through them. Perseverance
will succeed at last; and when the result is realized, it
will be the more valuable for the conflict.
Let a young man pursue this course, and twenty years
will show an amazing difference between him and the
man who has neglected it. If then favored with a competency, and disposed to retire from active business, he
will be at no loss how to dispose of his time, or where to
find enjoyment. Hiis own mind and his library will be to
him a source of unfailing pleasure. He will also be able
to command and to honor posts of public office and general usefulness, by which he can confer distinguished and
lasting benefits upon mankind.
SELF-SALVATION.
Man has more than body and intellect to care for.
iHe has also more than a merely moral nature. He has a
spiritual nature, a 0soul; to provide for the eternal wellbeing of which, is transcendently the most important of all
self-duties. So far as duty to himself is concerned this
385
17 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
is first, midst, and last; it absorbs and controls all others.
If the object of this duty is lost, all is lost. "For what
shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world and
lose his own s8oul; or what shall a man  qive in exchangefor his soul? "
We were not placed here to provide merely for these
few moments of time, but for everlasting ages. We were
made to look forward, indeXaitely forward; to provide
for the future, the eternal future.  The man who restricts
his vision of the future, and aims at providing for only a
limited period, is false to his rational nature.  Nor does it
answer for him to say, that he will provide for himself up
to a given point, to the point where his sensuous vision
terminates, and risk what lies beyond. This is precisely
what God has commanded him not to do, on peril of being
in the end denounced as "a fool." *  Hle is to look after
the interests of the soul, with the eye of the soul; and that
eye looks beyond time, ETERNALLY ONWARD.
The brute, having only an animal and corruptible nature, heeds only the present state; but man, having a rational and immortal nature, does and must think of eternity. Eternity is the appropriate centre of his thoughts,
the home of his spirit; there, and there only, may he lay
up his treasures.
The  means of securing his eternal salvation are revealed in the Scriptures, and a full consideration of them
belongs to religiou8 teaching. Moral philosophy conducts
us to this point, and here leaves us; with the obligation
resting upon every individual, as his first and highest selfe,uty, to secure his spiritual worthiness and his everlasting
bliss in heaven.
* Luke 12: 20.
386 
CHAPTER III.
CONJUGAL DUT I E S.
THE conjugal relation is indicated by Christ in the following words: " Have ye not read that he which made them
in the beginning made them male and female, and said,
For this cause a man shall leave father ancd mother, and
shall cleave to hi8 wife; and they twain shall be one fTesth.
Wherefore they are no smore twain, but one JesJh."  This is
then the most intimate and endearing of all earthly relations. It even transcends that of the parent and child.
There is no other relation which makes the parties so emphatically " one Xe8sh." The duties of this relation require,
1. Union of affection.-Unless the parties are united
in affection before they become so in law, they act in opposition to the spirit of the institution.  To marry from
motives of distinction, pride, wealth, or mere sensual
pleasure, is to perpetrate a flagrant moral wrong.   Few
crimes receive more severe and protracted recompense
than false-hearted marriage vows.
When the parties are married, they proclaim to the
world that they love each other more than they love any
other human being.   The necessity for this affection is
obvious. They cannot be happy in each other without it. 
]MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
Nothing else can be substituted.   They may acquire
wealth and distinction; they may build and furnish fine
houses, and plant beautiful gardens; they may ride in
elegant coaches, and give and receive luxurious entertainments; but all this, without true conjugal affection, is
splendid wretchedness. The parties have frustrated the
benevolent design of the marriage covenant, they have
solemnly proclaimed to God and to the world an awful
lie, and they must through life reap their reward in bitter
and unavailing regret.
2. Union of interestnd r n eputation.-For purposes of
convenience, civil laws often make some distinction between the property of the wife and that of the husband;
but this is with reference to their children, or to the surviving party. So long as they both live, whatever is possessed by either, should be equally enjoyed by both.
Their interests are one. The less there is of mine and
thine between them, the more do they act upon the spirit
and enjoy the blessings of the marriage covenant. They
have also a common inheritance of reputation.  Any blot
upon the character of the one, dishonors also the other.
The prosperity or adversity, glory or shame, weal or
woe, of either the husband or the wife, is peculiarly and
intensely shared in common between them.  This fact is
forcibly taught in the following declaration: "And the
rib which the Lord God had taken firom the man he made
a woman, and brought her to the man. And Adam said,
This is now bone of Dny bone, and flesh of my flesh."
HIence any good or evil befalling the one, befalls also the
other.
3. Union  of parental  afection.-This can be secured
by no other means than the marriage covenant. United
in the same relation to the same offspring, their affections
are to flow through the same channels to the same objects.
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THE CODE OF DUTIES.
Thus parental love serves to strengthen conjugal love, and
vice verse.  The mutual love of husband and wife is
usually increased or diminished, in the degree that the
one sees the other affectionately devoted to the welfare of
their common offspring.
4. Union of regard for each  other's relatives and
friends.-Being now made one, the parties sustain the
same relation to each other's kinsmen and associates. The
parents, brothers, sisters, cousins, and companions of the
one, become those of the other. Upon these their affections must now unite. The wife could scarcely offend
the husband more, than to disregard his relatives and
friends; and the husband could scarcely injure the sensibilities of the wife more, than to be indifferent to hers.
Serious alienations and jealousies have sometimes arisen
between married parties, from want of due consideration
in this particular.
5. Union of domestic responsibility.-Although every
one must give an account for himself, and there is an individual responsibility which can never be divided with
another, yet the conjugal union involves a most weighty
one, which must be borne in common by both the parties.
Neither can say, This is my duty, and that is yours.  The
duty is common to both. They are mutually and equally
pledged to do all in their power to secure the prudent management of their secular interests, the order and peace of
their households, the right training of their offspring, and
all those temporal and everlasting benefits, for which the
domestic constitution was established. One party may
never attempt to put exclusively upon the other any portion of this responsibility. They mutually assume it, and
are equally pledged to sustain it.
6. Jfutual chastity and fjdelity.-The parties are
equally pledged to abstinence from sexual intercourse with
389 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
any other person, and to the observance of strict chastity.
A violation of this pledge is the crime of adultery, and is
a gross trespass upon a natural as well as revealed principle of morality. No crime is more loudly condemned
by the voice of nature and by the Word of God, and upon
none are inflicted more terrible retributions.*
RELATIVE POSITION OF THE PARTIES.
The following Scripture has been often cited to prove
that the rights are mostly the husband's, and the duties
the wife's: "For the man is not of the woman; but the
woman of the man. Neither was the man created for the
woman; but the woman for the man."
But the context makes it evident that the precedence
of natural and social position, not of right, is here predicated of the man. The man is the natural and constituted
head of the wife, and of the entire household; but the relation between them is not that of master and slave.   It
is as much the husband's duty to love, cherish, and honor
the wife, as it is the wife's duty to love, cherish, and honor the husband. They are to be one in counsel, deliberation, judgment, feeling, interest, while the husband is the
constituted exponent and executor of their united wisdom.
" Neither is the man without the woman, neither the woman without the man, in the Lord. For as the woman is
of the man, even so is the man also of the woman." In
other words, they are equally important to each other;
while their blended and harmonious agency should be
represented in the appointed head.
But they are by no means to merge their respective
identities.  Their distinct individuality remains unimpaired. Each of them becomes much more, but neither
* See Heb. 13: 4.  Rev. 21: 8.  Lev. 20: 10.  Matth. 5: 7.
390 
THE CODE OF DUTIES.
of them any the less, for the union. Neither is the wife
to refer the decision of all matters in her appropriate
sphere to the husband, any more than the husband is to
refer the decision of all matters in his appropriate sphere
to the wife. Each, so far as is practicable, should be supreme in his or her appointed sphere, in order to lighten
the burden of the other.
Still, questions are sometimes to be decided respecting
which both have the same concern, and on which they
are liable to differ. They are questions which practically
respect the business, the safety, the happiness, of both
alike, and yet they cannot unite in opinion upon them.
What then?  As to mere opinion, they should "agree to
differ;" but as to action, the husband must finally decide.
Yet the wife should never be urged into circumstances
of danger, or compelled to resist her fears, unless there is
obviously greater danger in any other course. She may,
through fear, refuse to leave the sinking ship and take
the life-boat, and the husband may see this to be the
only escape for her; in that case he must not regard her
fears, but her safety.  In all ordinary cases, however, the
fears of "the weaker vessel" should be sacredly regarded.
The dashing steed that just delights the iron nerves of
man, is often a terror to the gentler sex; and the sensitive nerves, so instinctive of danger, usually suggest the
safer and wiser course.
In all cases, if a truly conjugal spirit rules, the point
will seldom be reached at which the husband's "authority" will be demanded. Long before arriving at that
issue, the wife will give the preference to the opinions and
wishes of the husband; while the gentle expression of her
own, even in matters of the greatest moment, will not fail
to be by him gratefullly received, and perhaps adopted.
To decide, at last, is his; but to guide, assist, and sustain
391 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
the decision, is hers. Their duties and privileges are thus
equal, although modified to their respective sexes and
positions.
DUTIES OF THE HUSBAND TO THE WIFE.
1. lie is bound toprovidefor her. lie has no right
to marry without some reasonable prospect of having a
comfortable home for his wife. For him she leaves father
and mother. Hie takes her from the home of her childhood, to possess a home of his own procuring. And the
home which he provides should have some reference to
that which she leaves.  It may not be as elegant; for
those setting out in life must not ordinarily expect what
years of toil procure; but it should be adapted to her previous habits and culture. If through indolence or improvidence he neglects to provide her a suitable home and
support, he is false to his vow, and forfeits claim to her
affection. " If any provide not for his own, and especially for those of his own household, he hath denied the
faith, and is worse than an infidel." *
2. He should protect her pers8on.  He should watch
over her health, comfort, and safety. He should never
require her to live in situations to which her constitution
is not adapted. iHe should impose upon her no cares,
and subject her to no avoidable burdens and anxieties,
which tend to impair her vigor or shorten her days. lHe
should cherish and protect her as the prudent man would
his own life, always placing himself between her and
harm.
Even if disposed himself to encounter dangers, he has
no right needlessly to subject his wife to them. She has
a personal right to her own safety, which the marriage
* 1 Tim. 5: 8.
392 
THE CODE OF DUTIES.
vow does not impair; and hence, if her fears prevail, he
is bound to regard them.  The rash husband, by disregarding the prudent fears of his wife, has sometimes been
the unmeaning cause of her death.
3. HIe should treat her with delicacy and respect. It
is said that "familiarity breeds contempt." And so it
certainly does, unless strict delicacy is observed. Hence
the husband should endeavor always to practise the same
delicacy of conduct towards his wife which he did before
they were married. The same delicate courtesy that won
her affections and esteem, should retain them. Familiarity may contribute to ease and fireedom between them,
but must never be allowed to degenerate to rudeness.
4. He should also treat her kindly and affectionately.
He should never wound her feelings by unkind remarks,
or ill-natured rebukes; especially he should avoid speaking of her faults in the presence of others.  He should
relieve her anxieties respecting servants, table, wardrobe,
and other domestic matters, and render them all easy to
bear, by his manifested satisfaction.  He should be slow
to complain and quick to commend.
He should consider her temperament, education, and
early life, and make due allowances for them. He should
never interfere with the proper development of her
natural or acquired gifts. If she has genius, taste, or
skill, qualifying her to succeed in any department of
literature or of art, he should generously encourage it.
He should endeavor to anticipate all her reasonable wants,
and to animate all her just endeavors.
He should not bestow upon her grudgingly, or compel
her to come to him begging for money, but consider that
her purse has a right to be filled as well as his. She may
not wish to tell him all her wants, any more than he may
wish to tell her his. She may desire to surprise her hus           17*
393 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
band by appearing in a new dress, or by making him a
beautiful present; or she may have charitable objects in
view. It is not for him to inquire why she needs the
money, but to see that she has it.  His attention to her
should never be ostentatious, nor more marked in public
than in private. This will disgust a sensible wife, as well
as others who witness it. iHis devotion should be ever
the same hearty, noiseless, self-sacrificing endeavor to
secure her highest welfare and happiness.
"1tHusbands, love your wives, and be not bitter against
them."  " love your wives, even as Chnist also loved the
Church, and gave himself for it." *  As Christ loves
the Church, and tenderly protects her as the apple of his
eye, so ought the husband to love and cherish his wife.
5. He should be especially attentive to her in sicknes8s.
When suffering with pain, disease, languor, she naturally looks to her dearest earthly friend for sympathy and
relief. She should never look in vain. She may be nervous, impatient, unreasonable; but he must bear with
these infirmities, and sympathize with her imagined as
well as real sicknesses. Most of them are real, and severer
than the husband has ever supposed. To complain of her
sufferings is not the usual way of woman. To suffer on
in silence, to bear with uncomplaining submission, is her
common habit.
The brightest examples of conjugal fidelity have
sometimes been furnished by men of the highest standing
in their professions, who have resigned honorable stations
and lucrative business to bestow all their time and attentions upon their suffering wives.  Disease had laid its
hand upon the objects dearer to them than fame or
wealth. For anxious weeks and months they travelled
*Col.3: 19. Eph.5:25.
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THE CODE OF DUTIES.
with them and watched over them, leaving no means
untried to heal or mitigate their diseases, until the final
mandate came. At no time does the conjugal affection
appear more beautiful than in seasons of sickness.
6. He should sacredly regard her 8piritual welfaxre.
If he loves her with a true affection, he will desire and
seek the welfare of her soul. His views may differ from
hers, but he is bound to respect hers as sacredly as he
does his own. IHe may seek to enlighten her conscience,
if he thinks her in error; this he is bound to do; but he
must never attempt to control it.   She is personally
responsible as well as hle. He should, if possible, provide
for her the place of worship which she most approves,
allow her to make such a profession of religion as accords
with her sense of duty, and always treat her religious
sentiments with tenderness and respect.
This much, at least, the marriage covenant binds him
to do. But if a believer in Christianity and moved by its
spirit, he will do more. He will make her the subject of
his daily prayers, and will labor to cause all the events of
joy and of sorrow through which they may be called to
pass, the means of leading her spirit to God and securing
its eternal rest and glory in heaven.   " What klowest
thou, 0 husband, whether thou shalt save thy wife?"
DUTIES OF THE WIFE TO THiE HUSBAND.
The duties of the wife are correlative to those of the
husband, being modified by the difference of her sphere.
If he is the leading head of the family, she is to be the
" help meet for him."
1. She should assist him nT providing.  If it is the
duty of the husband to provide for the wife, it is no less
her duty to cooperate with him, and thus do all in her
395 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
power to relieve his task. It was never intended that
the husband should bear alone the burden of supporting
the household. The wife is morally bound to help him.
Failure in this duty will bring its appropriate punishment.
"Many a man has failed to succeed in life," says a blunt
but truthful writer, "because his wife, instead of being a
help meet, was only a help eat." If there are particular
duties in providing for the family appropriate to his
sphere, so there are others appropriate to hers; and the
neglect of either may prove equally fatal to their common
interest.
2. She should adapt  erself to his circumstamces and
calling.  Her wants must be graduated by his means.
An ambitious wife and a poor husband make an unhappy
match. She must consider this beforehand, and resolve
on contentment. She did not wed a house, or a garden,
or a luxurious table, or a fine dress; she wedded a /usband.  And if his means are humble, she should cheerfully conform to them. She has probably heard of " love
in a cottage;" she now has a chance to taste its sweets.
The wife of a poor husband should practise industry,
frugality, and economy, with untiring vigilance; but if
her husband is rich, she may have more regard to adornment. To render home elegant and attractive, to make
it an abode of hospitality, and to abound in deeds of personal kindness and charity to the poor, will then enter
more largely into the sphere of her duties. The wives of
rich men may thus impart true value to wealth, and
make it an ornament to their possessors and a blessing to
the world.
3. She should look we7ll to the ways of her household.
She should anticipate the wants of her husband, and see
that all things pertaining to his wardrobe, apartments,
and home-comforts, are duly arranged. She should have
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THE CODE OF DUTIES.
the same eye of vigilance to the wants of the family, and
to the comfort and happiness of guests. She should seek
to prevent waste, to have every thing in its right time
and place, and to diffuse an air of grace and comfort over
the house. She should be prompt to every emergency;
ready to rise early, sit up late, or make unusual efforts,
when demanded by special calls upon her husband's
time. Presiding thus with generous heart and queenly
grace over the household, she will make home what
heaven designed it to be, the paradise of earth.
"Teach the young women to be sober, to love their
husbands, to love their children; to be discreet, chaste,
keepers at honme, good, obedient to their own husbands;
that the word of God be not blasphemed." * "Who can
find a virtuous woman? for her price is far above rubies.
The heart of her husband doth safely trust in her, so that
she shall have no need of spoil. She will do him good
and not evil all the days of her life. She seeketh wool
and flax, and worketh diligently with her hands. She is
like the merchant's ships; she bringeth her food from
afar. She riseth while it is yet night, and giveth meat
to her household, and a portion to her maidens.-She
stretcheth out her hand to the poor; yea, she stretcheth
out her hands to the needy. She looketh well to the
ways of her household, and eateth not the bread of idleness. Her children arise up and call her blessed; her
husband also, and he praiseth her. Many daughters have
done virtuously, but thou excellest them all."
4. She should endeavor to retain and increase his
satisfaction mn her personal attractions.  To this end, she
should always continue to be as neat and tasteful in dress,
as modest, dignified, and graceful in manners, as when
*Tit. ii: 4, 5.
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MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
she first won his affection. She should furnish him no
ground for disappointment. If she cannot continue to
command the charms of personal beauty, she can exhibit
what is more valuable, the graces of an amiable temper,
and of a pure and benevolent heart.
If she would not disgust her husband, and prove herself unworthy of his affection and unable to retain it, she
must never indulge jealousy. She must be generous and
confiding. She must rejoice to have others share with
her all proper attentions from him, and to have him enjoy
their society as well as hers. Few things are more offensive even to the casual observer, than that exclusive
devotion of the married pair to each other, which proclaims their affection to be narrow, sensual, and selfish.
She must be submissive.  "Wives, submit  yourselves
unto your ow  husbandgs, as is ft in the -ord."  This is
not a servile submission, but such as is "fit," that is,
becoming. It should be the cheerful and graceful submission of a confiding heart. She should understand his
disposition, and be indulgent to his infirmities. If superior to him in talent or culture, she should guard against
appearing conscious of it. If he is sometimes petulant or
ill-natured, she should not reproach him, but leave him
to reproach himself in silence. A spirited and high-minded
husband cannot be safely rebuked by his wife. Indeed
she would soon despise him if he allowed it. There is a
mingling of chivalrous pride in his affection for her,
which may be turned into hate and bitterness by indiscreet rebukes.
5. She s8hould be especially devoted to hin?,in trouble
and in sickness. Reverses of fortune may overtake him.
He may lose his property, or his business; or his reputation may be assailed; but so long as his wife stands by
his side, cheerful, resolute, hopeful, he can still act the
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man.  He has the "help qeet for him."  In some instances men have felt more than compensated for the
severest losses by the noble character thus developed in
their wives.
That the husband may be under no temptation to seek
comfort abroad, and to drown his anxieties amidst scenes
of dissipation, his wife should be as an angel of light
and love about him. She should seek to make her own
society the most agreeable to him, her own table the most
inviting, her home the most attractive, her fireside entertainments the most satisfying, of all on earth. If the
husband of such a wife breaks down under trials, or resorts to vicious practices, the fault will not be hers.
Ordinarily he will not. Her endeavors will be crowned
with success. Had the wife of Job been such, she would
not have spoken "as one of the foolish women speaketh,"
and he would not probably have been left to murmur.
The same principle which should guide the conduct
of the husband, in the sickness of the wife, should also
guide hers in the sickness of the husband. Indeed the
balance of duty here is rather on her side. No other
person can do for her husband in sickness what she can
do. The affectionate and devoted wife is then physician,
nurse, firiend, comforter; the ever present angel of love
and mercy about his pillow.  Her presence, sympathy,
and care, are more precious and important to him than
those of all the world besides.
6. She should earnestly seek his spiritual welfare.
No other person can exert the religious influence upon
him which she can. If a consistent Christian and devoted
wife, she may confidently hope that her faithful and persevering instrumentality will be blest to his salvation.
This hope is expressly encouraged by the highest authority. " For what knowest thou, O wife, whether thou shalt
save thy husband? "
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MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
God has committed his spiritual destiny, in an eminent degree, to her charge. Hie is immersed in business.
" The cares of this world, and the deceitfulness of riches,
and the lusts of other things," press him on all sides.
She is more withdrawn from the world, and her thoughts
and sensibilities naturally commune more with religion.
Hence husbands usually look to their wives for religious
example, guidance, and encouragement. Even if sceptical and irreligious themselves, they usually prefer to have
their wives pious.
Unless Christianity is a fable, the wife is morally
bound to make the salvation of her husband, next to her
own, the most important object of her life. An excellent
woman, living in the enjoyment of great wealth and
luxury, was asked what she would give to see her husband a Christian.  "I appreciate these temporal blessings," was her reply, " and hope I am thankful for them,
but have often thought that I would gladly exchange
them all and live in the humblest poverty, for that greatest desire and prayer of my heart." She was put to the
test. Hie failed in business, and after living two years in
an obscure cottage, in great poverty, he died. But in the
mean time he found treasures in heaven, and of this gave
the brightest evidence. She has often remarked, that
those two last years were the happiest period of her life.
None who know her can doubt the truth of this; and
there are many others, we are sure, who have the same
spirit. Such are true wives, in the true sense; they are
to their husbands the Aelps " meet " for them, in the most
important of all interests.
CONCLUDING REMARKS.
All of the above duties are deduced fromn one and the
same principle, which is involved in the marriage cove
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nant.  The parties are pledged to promote their highest
united and individual welfare. Whatever contributes to
this, each of the parties is bound to do.
Let this principle be universally adopted and obeyed,
and there would be an end to all divorces, and to all
occasions for them; an end to all jealousies and contentions between husband and wife; and an end, doubtless,
to three-fourths of the misery that afflicts mankind. All
families would become nurseries of every thing pure,
sweet, genial, and the heavenly influences going forth of
them would, in a great measure, restore the bliss of Eden
lost by the fall.
Nor let it be said that we have set the standard too
high, and cannot approach it. Christian morality has set
it where it is, and it cannot be altered. Not a duty have
we indicated, which both natural and revealed morality
do not conspire to enjoin.  Nor is this all.  Many have
proved by their lives that it can be approached.  There
are at this moment thousands of illustrations of the blessedness of the conjugal union, in which the principle of
the bond is faithfully regarded, as has been indicated
above; nor let us despair of that brighter day, when all
the families of the earth will become illustrations of the
same.
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CHAPTER IV.
PARENTAL DUTIES.
NEXT to the conjugal relation the parental is most important.   On the right discharge of its duties mainly
depends the welfare of the state and of the church. The
family is both of these in embryo.
The duties now to be considered result directly from
the parental relation. The father and mother areparents
to their child; that is, as the word imports, the authors
under God of his existence. Ilad it not been for them
he would never have had a being. They hence sustain to
him the most vital of all relations, and one which no other
person, in the fullest sense, can sustain.
PARENTAL AFFECTION.
Along with the birth of the child there is also born in
the hearts of his parents a peculiar affection for him. This
affection is strictly the work of God, and always exists
where nature is not grossly abused. It prompts them to
do whatever is in their power for his safety and welfare. 
THE CODE OF DUTIES.
Following the indication of nature, it is plainly their duty
to cultivate and direct this impulse. They should put it
in school to conscience, and thus make their happiness and
their duty one, in paying the precious debt they owe to
their beloved offspring.
They should always cherish such an affection for him,
that the neglect of any duty, however self-sacrificing, to
promote his welfare, would be to them a greater trial than
its performance. This is not an affection that idolizes its
object, and expends itself in fondling and caressing him,
or in displaying vanity in his dress and appearance; it
moves the heart, the lips, the hands, in the faithful use of
all the appointed means for securing his highest temporal
and everlasting well-being. Such is true parental love.
It is perhaps usually found in higher perfection in the
heart of the mother than of the father, making there
greater sacrifices and enduring more abuse. It is a union
of all the elements of moral love animated by the peculiar
parental feeling.
PARENTAL GUARDIANSHIP.
As parents have some practical knowledge of nature's
laws, of the ways in which they are violated, and the
dangers to which their violation exposes us, and as the
child has not this knowledge, parental guardianship is
one of their first duties. They must watch over his health,
and guard him from exposure to disease, and from all
malformations of the limbs and organs.   They must
attend to his diet, clothing, exercise, recreation, and all
the means of the symmetrical and perfect development
and growth of his physical system.
The child is as ignorant and as heedless of his moral as
of his physical dangers, and hence parental guardianship
is not less important in the one case than in the other.
403 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
The germs of a virtuous or of a vicious character, are
planted at a period when he is too young to anticipate
their consequences.  His parents must therefore anticipate them for him. They must keep him from vicious
companions, from the corrupting influence of profanity,
obscenity, falsehood, deceit, and all base passions, as
they would from pestilence and death. The child who
acquires evil habits through their neglect, will be a speedy
and fearful witness against them.
PARENTAL GOVERNMElNT.
Parents are bound to govern their child. All rational
beings are made to be subjects of government, and the
first natural lawgivers and rulers of the child are his
parents. They are to form in him those habits of obedience to rightful authority, which are subsequently to be
exercised with reference to the State and to the higher
government of God. There is nothing which they can
substitute for these. They may give him all the advantages of wealth, learning, art, society, travel, and refined
manners; but if they have not withal taught him to
"obey his parents in the Lord," they will probably live to
see their brightest hopes of him blasted.
Parents should govern their child for the same end that
God governs us. All their requirements and prohibitions,
rewards and penalties, should be with a view to his
welfare.  When the apostle says, "we have had fathers
of our flesh which corrected us, after their own pleasure,"
he tells us what some fathers have done, rather than what
they ought to have done. Their duty is written thus:
" And ye fathers, provoke not your children to wrath, but
bring them up in the nurture and admonition of the
Lord&." " Provoke not your children to anger lest they
be discouraged."
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THE CODE OF DUTIES.
Parental government should therefore be reasonable
and enlightened.  It should never be swayed by blind
impulse. It should take into view the child's substantial
welfare, rather than his present indulgence. As it should
prohibit only where prohibition is necessary, so it should
indulge only where indulgence is safe. It should also
study the child's peculiarities of temperament, and aim
so to touch his hidden springs of action, as to secure
the most perfect obedience with the least possible resistance.
It should also be patient and forbearing. Like the
government of God, who "maketh his sun to rise on the
evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and on
the unjust," it should endure "with much long suffering,"
the waywardness and folly of childhood.  It seems to
have been divinely intended that parents should willingly
endure more from their own children than they would
from others; because they have more to do with their
faults. But patience must never degenerate to weak
indulgence, nor forbearance to pusillanimity.
It should be uniform. No parent can well govern
his child, who does not govern himself. He who is severe
one day and indulgent the next, chastising and caressing
according to the caprices of passion, fails to secure either
obedience or respect. As the Almighty bears forward
the laws of his government with the same steady hand
under all provocations from his rebellious children, so
should earthly parents do, that their children may always
know assuredly what to expect. Passionate and capricious government is an inevitable failure.
It should be efcient.  It must maintain its position
and secure its object. Assuming that filial obedience
rn,etst be secured, or the child will be ruined, it must be,
like the government of God, firm and persistent unto the
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MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
end. It must take no denial. The child must be made
to submit, at all events. It is, however, often expedient
to allow time for his temper to cool and his reason and
conscience to operate. The object is thus often wisely
gained by delay. But ultimately gained it must surely
be. The child's waywardness must be thoroughly subdued; he must be made to realize that his parent is
entirely in the righlt, and to yield to him cordial obedience.
If no other means are effectual, the rod must be used.
But it should be used with the due mingling of goodness
and severity, and yet always with a firmness of decision
effectual to its end. " He that spareth his rod hateth his
son; but he that loveth him chastiseth him betimes."
MAINTENANCE.
Parents are bound to provide maintenance for their
children. This is evident from the following considerations: First, children cannot provide for themselves.
Secondly, the natural provision in the person of the
mother and her instinctive desire to nourish her offspring,
indicate the divine will in this particular. Thirdly, the
natural affection of both the parents prompts them to
provide for their offspring. Fourthly, it is manifestly
unjust for them to impose upon others the task of supporting children, for whose existence they are themselves
responsible.   Finally, the Scriptures expressly assert:
"If any provide not for his own, and especially for those
of hsi own house, he hath denied the faith, and is worse
than an infidel."
Of the nature and extent of the maintenance, parents
are ordinarily the proper judges. The rich parent ought
to provide for his children more liberally than the poor
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THE CODE OF DUTIES.
can. Hle is bound to give them advantages, according as
God has given him means. As to food and dress, he
should do for his children as he does for himself. To live
in luxury himself, and subject his children to coarse and
hard fare, is unparental and unjust. Their fare should be
simple, perhaps more so than his own, but it should be to
them what his is to him.
On the other hand, he is bound to guard against
enervating his children by indulgence. If he has passed
through early years of hardship, and reached a period
demanding more repose and indulgence than are best for
them, he should give them the advantage of his experience. The parent, however wealthy, who brings up his
children in indolence and pleasure, inflicts an irreparable
wrong upon them and upon society.
The age of the child, at which the responsibility of
the parent to provide and of the child to serve ceases, is
in this country fixed by law at twenty-one. But the law
justly provides that the parties may enter into a contract
at any earlier period, after the child has become capable
of providing for himself, by which their Inutual obligations are formally cancelled. The law also provides that
the parent may give or apprentice his child to another,
under circumstances favorable to the child's welfare, and
thus transfer the legal obligation to support him.
But the goral obligation of the parent does not cease
then, nor after the child becomes of age. Their interests
become then distinct in law, but duty demands of the
parent, through life, a peculiar regard to his offspring.
At his death, our law divides his property equally among
them, abating the widow's portion; but other relatives
and objects frequently have demands, for which the law
cannot specifically provide, thus occasioning the necessity for a will.  In that case the parent, mnaking due pro
407 
MORAL PHIILOSOPHY.
vision for other claims, should divide equally with his
children, unless some defect of intellect or character
should justify a distinction. A just portion should then
be so left in trust as to guard against both personal want
and a public burden.
PHYSICAL EDUCATION.
The infant is a feeble and helpless object. Every
member and every muscle needs to be expanded and
strengthened.  Nature has in a measure provided for
this, in the ceaseless activity which she prompts. But
there is also demanded unwearied parental care. Children left to themselves will come to an early end, or grow
up deformed, feeble, and sickly.
It is the duty of parents to see that their children
have wholesome and nourishing food, in suitable quantities; that they have regular and appropriate hours of
sleep; that they have pure air and regular alternations
of exercise and repose; that they are inured to labor, and
even, with due caution, to hardships; in a word, to see
that they are so trained as to enjoy, if possible, symmetrical, vigorous, enduring bodies. The blessings of good
health through life depend much upon the parental care
of childhood.
Hence parents who bring up their offspring delicately and indolently, with systems frail and feeble
through want of due exercise, who pamper their appetites, thus engendering unnatural desires and incipient
diseases; and parents who, on the other hand, impose
crushing burdens or unsuitable tasks upon them, or confine them in bad air, or give them unwholesome food;
inflict an injury upon them, beyond the power of gold
or of tears to recall. A large portion of the deaths among
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THE CODE OF DUTIES.
children, and many of the diseases which follow those
through life who survive, are due to the want of right
physical training.
INTELLECTUAL EDUCATION.
The infant brings with him into the world the embryo
powers of acquisition, but no innate ideas. AUl that he
ever knows must be learned. Hiis powers of acquisition
were given him to be used; in other words, he was
designed to be educated. Education is as needful for his
mind, as food and clothing are for his body; and the
duty of providing for both devolves upon the parents.
The only question here has respect to the extent of
parental responsibility. The general principle is this:
The parent is bound to do what he can for the intellectual
culture of his children, consistently with his other duties.
Some can do much more than others; all can do something.   Nothing can justify parental  neglect in this
important matter. He who thinks to substitute wealth
for education, or who, from motives of avarice, indolence,
or pleasure, allows his children to grow up in ignorance,
perpetrates a wrong for which there is no redemption.
tFhe following rules are here obligatory upon parents:
1. They should make the education of their children
aprominent object.  They should have an eye to it in
choosing their employment, selecting their place of residence, regulating their expenses, and disposing of their
time. The question whether they shall live in town or
country, whether they shall acquire more property or
less, whether their house and furniture shall be elegant
or plain, whether their table shall be abundant or simple,
is of small moment, compared with the question whether
their children shall be well or badly educated.
is
409 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
2. They should endeavor to provide  for them the
best teachers. Some parents are prompted by avarice to
employ the cheapest teachers; others, by pride, to employ
the dearest; others, by a grovelling ambition, to send
their children to a fas,iomable school. Verily they have
their reward.  But better is the reward of those who,
moved by a wise conviction of duty, seek for their children those teachers who will give them the most thorough
and efficient mental culture. As nothing can repair the
loss occasioned by superficial and unfaithful teaching, so
scarcely any price is too great to reward that teaching
which is what it should be.
3. They should, as far as possible, have a personal eye
to the education of their children. So far as their time
and qualifications allow, they should themselves teach
them. All parents of ordinary attainments can do this
to some extent. They thus encourage their children to
learn by leading the way. They inspirit them by their
example, as the successful husbandmnan does his workmen
by putting his own hand to the plough. Whatever deeply
interests parents is wont to interest their children. But
when the child sees his parents attaching no practical
value to his hard and dry lessons, and devoting all their
evenings to light reading and amusements, he naturally
imbibes their spirit and follows their example.
Let parents gather at evening with their children
around the table, let them enter into their difficulties and
their triumphs, let them thus show that they attach real
importance to their studies, and the effect upon their
endeavors will be most happy.  They will also thus
become acquainted with their several aptitudes, and learn
how to direct their course in life.
4. They should adapt the education of their childrer,
to their variou8 talents.  Up to a certain period, the edu
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cation of all children must be nearly the same. But
beyond the common rudiments, a wide field opens, in
which the course should be directed by a wise regard to
natural genius and bent of inclination. Parents should
seek to ascertain in what calling their children are most
likely to excel, and to direct their education accordingly.
The child who is sent to college, or into the army, or
placed in a store, or even upon a farm, against his prevailing inclination, is almost sure to encounter failure.
Happy is the child who learns in season what calling he
was made for, and happy are the parents who guide his
steps into it.
MORAL AND RELIGIOUS EDUCATION.
Some have argued that parents ought not to mould
the character and faith of their child, maintaining that he
should be left to do it for himself on his own responsibility. It might as reasonably be argued that they
should neglect the care of his body and his intellect. Is
a deformed limb or a feeble memory more to be dreaded
than a bad character?  A wise man said: "Train up a
child in the way he should go, and when he is old he
will not depart from it." Another has added, with
scarcely less of truth: "Train up a child in the way he
would go, and when he is old he will probably be hanged."
But it is said that parents may be themselves in error,
and may thus mislead their children. So they may mistake respecting their physical and intellectual training.
But is this a good reason for neglecting it?  No.  God
has laid upon parents the obligation to train up their
children in the way they should go. If it is their duty to
attend to their physical and intellectual culture, it is no
less their duty to "bring them up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord."
411 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
The following rules indicate the duties of parents to
their children in this particular.
1. They should inculcate upon them their own convictions of truth and duty. They should also see to it, that
those to whom they commit their instruction do not teach
them otherwise. Parents are responsible not only for what
they themselves teach their children, but for what they
allow others to teach them. The parent who believes
intoxication injurious to the body, or frivolous reading
injurious to the intellect, and yet permits an instructor to
teach his children otherwise, is no less guilty of parental
neglect than he who believes the profanation of the Sabbath to be injurious to morals and religion, and yet allows
their instructor to teach them to profane it.
But there is a limit to this authority. The law presumines children to be, after the age of twenty-one, as
capable of directing their moral and spiritual as their
secular interests. Before this period, the authority of
parents may be exercised; after this, only the influence
of their counsel and love. But their authority should never
be sharp, severe, imperious, so as to leave no play for the
personal judgment and conscience of their children. And
as children advance towards seniority, parents should
gradually relax their authority over them, and thus by
degrees place them upon their own responsibility. In
this way there will be no sudden break or jar in their
course, but they will pass imperceptibly upward from the
dependence of childhood to the independence of manhood.
2. Parents should give to their children the benwefit of
their example. No other teaching is so explicit and effective as this. Their children may not apprehend the force
of their reasoning, but they will feel the power of their example. Although parents teach and pray like saints, they
412 
THE CODE OF DUTIES.
will avail little without consistent lives. On the other
hand, a few words of judicious instruction, attended with
the influence of a pure and bright example, will fall into
the balances of their children like pounds of shining gold.
WVhen children see the law of love and of justice reigning in the hearts of their parents; when they see in them
benignity and gentleness blending with firmness and decision; when they see them strictly truthful in all they say,
and faithful to all their engagements; when they hear from
their lips no unchaste, or profane, or slanderous words;
they have before them a constant lesson of excellence
which they cannot fail to understand.
And when they see their parents temperate in eating
and drinking; prudent in their habits and economical in
their expenses, yet given to hospitality, and abundant in
noiseless benefactions to worthy objects; when they see
them " recompense to no man evil, but overcome evil
with good;" in a word, when they see them " do justly,
love mercy, and walk humbly with God;" they see in
their example, as clearly as with the flash of an angel's
eye, their own duty.  It is as if a voice from some bright
shekinah said to them, " Go and do likewise."
3. Parents should check the,ist appearance of evil
dispositions in their children.  Anger,  petulance, revenge, envy, cruelty, pride, vanity, obstinacy, and every
other wrong temper, they should rebuke, by placing them
in the clear light of God's holy law, by showing his just
abhorrence of them, and by exhibiting the moral beauty
and grandeur of the virtues which they displace. The
disposition to lie is perhaps one of the most common.
Nearly all parents are pained at detecting some indications of it in their children. It usually first appears in
the mild form of equivocation. But it soon passes, unless
checked, to the bolder crime of downright falsehood. No
413 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
disposition is harder to correct, and none is more fatal.
Anger, petulance, vanity, the child may outgrow; but
lying, unless speedily rebuked, will soon outgrow him.
It is a cancer, eating into the vitals of the soul. Parents
must therefore use their most earnest endeavors to correct it.
They should settle this point with their children,
under the solemnities of eternity, that they n?,us8t cease
entirely and for ever fron the dispos8ition to lie, or be
doomed to remediless ruin. They should hold the words
of God himself continually before them, " 11All liars shall
have their part in t/re lake which burnetA with #re and
brioistone, wAich is the second death."
They should aim to remove from them all temptations
to lie. They should also endeavor to make them feel, so
far as they consistently can, that they place entire confidence in their word. One of the most essential means
of inducing children to be always truthful, is, to let them
see that we presume they always are so. Frequently accuse a child of lying, and he will usually first be grieved,
then indignant, and then begin to lie.
4. Parents should keep their children from all vicious
habits. Left to themselves, children will frequently contract habits whose disastrous consequences are lasting as
life.  Impure practices, indulgence in pernicious stimulants, profanity, vulgarity, obscenity, often commence before parents suspect them. That bright and lovely son,
that beautiful and charming daughter, too young to be
yet capable of vicious practices, may be exposed to influences leading directly to them.
These corrupting influences often come from servants,
or inmates, or from persons in the neighborhood, with
whom their children associate. Many a child has been
taught vicious habits by domestics in the absence of pa
414 
THE CODE OF DUTIES.
rents.  There are also, in most neighborhoods, evil-minded and evil practised boys, older than others in years and
in the arts of vice, who take pleasure in corrupting the
young and unwary.
The means of protecting children from such dangers,
are mainly the following:
First, they must be duly warned against them.  Parents must not affect to ignore them, but assume that they
actually exist. Delicately but plainly they should point
them out, expose their guilt and consequences, and with
the combined earnestness of all their parental love and
authority, warn their children against them.
Secondly, they should have an eye to the character
of the indwellers in their house. It may not be in their
power always to command religious inmates and servants,
but nothing call justify their employing those who are
immoral. The place for such is certainly not where they
can corrupt and ruin children. Parents vainly hope to
protect their children from the influence of harbored vice.
They must follow the example of him who said, "I will
set no wicked thing before mine eyes. I hate the work
of them that turn aside; it shall not cleave to me. A
froward heart shall depart from me; I will not know a
wicked person. Mine eyes shall be upon the faithful of
the land, that they may dwell with me.  He that walkcet
t  aperifeet way, le shall serve ne."  Parents should also,
as before intimated, guard their children against all bad
influence without, keeping them from such companions
and such places of resort as might lead to vicious habits.
Thirdly, they should provide suitable amutsemnents for
them. Children must have amusements of some kind.
Their natures are adapted to them, and without them cannot be fully developed. They are social; they must have
companions. They are ingenious; they must have their
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MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
little arts. They are curious and imaginative; they must
have some books of interesting stories. They are restless
and active; they must have abundance of play. They
must have their fireside recreations and their out-of-door
sports. All of these may be either such as to elevate and
refine, or to debase and corrupt. It depends mostly upon
the parents to determine which they shall be.
5. They should most of all seek their children's spiritual welfare.  It is not enough that they restrain them
from vices, and train them to habits of secular morality;
they are bound to regard them also in their relations to
God. There is a higher life than that of the flesh, and
there are more precious and enduring interests than those
of time, which parents are bound to seek for their children. If they aim no higher than to see them well conditioned in the world, they aim immeasurably below their
mark.
If they ought to teach them benevolence and justice
towards their fellow-beings, much more should they teach
them to love and serve their Maker.   If they ought to
teach them to "provide things honest in the sight of all
men" needful to the perishing body, much more should
they teach them to treasure up the needful riches of the
soul. They will soon be compelled to see that all the
honors and riches of the world are dust and dross, compared with treasures in heaven. Anticipating this from
the beginning, they should lift up their eyes to "the everlasting hills," and seek for their children " an inheritance
that fadeth not away."
416 
CHAPTER Y.
FILIAL DUTIES.
FILIAL duty is the counterpart to parental.   Parental
affection, authority, government, instruction, example, and
kindness, should be responded to with corresponding love,
reverence, obedience, docility and gratitude, on the part
of the children.   Thus all the parental and filial duties
are reciprocal, and equally binding upon the respective
parties.
But the failure of the parent to do his duty, does not
exonerate the child from doing his. The obligations of
children are greatly augmented by their being favored
with loving and faithful parents; but the bond of filial
duty is ever upon them, although more or less modified,
under every possible development of parental character.
FILIAL LOVE.
It has been previously shown that children have a peculiar natural affection for their parents. It is an affection
which nothing but crime on the child's part can destroy.
The parent may wound it; he may be severe, unkind, capricious, cruel; he may indulge in degrading vices; still,
18* 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
so long as the child is himself what he ought to be, his
heart will yearn towards the unnatural parent.
All children should sacredly cherish this affection as a
duty. To allow it to die out of the heart, or to be displaced by other affections, is to squander one of the most
precious of heaven's gifts, and to incur a fearful penalty.
"Cursed is he that setteth light by his father or mnother,
and all the people shall say, Amen."
The absence of filial affection, or failure suitably to
manifest it, is condemned by the general consent of mankind.  A child "without natural affection" towards his
parents, is a monster which the world seems unwilling to
own. Every child, then, as he values the favor of both
God and man, should cherish a deep, abiding, controlling
affection for his parents. There is but one earthly affection that mnay transcend this; and even that should not
di.splace it. When the son or daughter leaves father and
mother to be joined to another in marriage, it is not that
he or she may love parents less, but wife or husband
more.
FILIAL REVERENCE.
Children have naturally a feeling of peculiar reverence
for their parents. To them, under God, they owe their
existence; and hence they are bound to regard them with
a kind of reverential homage, which is due to no other
human being. This feeling blends with that of filial love,
and is the basis of true obedience. Children who suitably
love and revere their parents, are sure to obey them, and
to obey from the right motives.   -
Hence to honor and to obey, as indicating filial duty,
are in the Scriptures synonymous.   " Honor thy father
and thy mother, that thy days may be long upon the land
which the Lord thy God giveth thee." Referring to this
418 
THE CODE OF DUTIES.
command, the apostle says, " Children, obey your parents
in the Lord, for this is right.  lHonor thy father and
mother; which is the first commandment with promise."
The child who properly reveres his parents, will always be gentle and respectful towards them, will treat
them with marked attention, will delicately regard their
feelings and consult their wishes, will speak of them with
affectionate respect, and will never allow them to be
spoken against in his presence.
FILIAL OBEDIENCE.
As it is the parent's duty to govern, so it is the child's
duty to obey.  Upon fewer duties do the Scriptures insist
more earnestly.   "My  son, hear the instruction of thy
father, andfoz,sake not the law of thy rother; they shall
be an ornalmnent of grace unto thine head, and chains about
thy neck.  Keep thy father's commandments, andforsake
not tihe law of thy mother.  A wise son heareth his father's
instruction; a foolish son despiseth his mother."
" Honor thy father and thy mother, which is the first
commandment with promise, that it may be well with
thee, and that thou mayest live long on  the earth."
"The eye that gnocketh at hisfather, and des8piseth to obey
his mother, the ravens of the valley shall pick it out, and
the young eagles shall eat it."  "If a man have a stubborn and rebellious son, that will not obey the voice of
his father, or the voice of his mother, all the men of the
city shall stone him with stones that he die." *  Thus
persistent disobedience in a child was, under the Mosaic
economy, punished with death. Obey he tust, or he
should not live.
Filial obedience should always be cordial and prompt.
*Prov. 1: 8.  10: 7.  Ex. 20: 12.  Prov. 30: 7.  Deut. 21: 18.
419 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
Its quality of moral excellence depends wholly upon
this. If it is grudged, unwilling, extorted by threat or
punishment, it is not noral obedience. It is essential to
the very nature of true obedience, that it be hearty, willing, cheerful. When Christ said, "I delight to do thy
will, O my God; yea, thy law is within my heart," he
expressed to his Heavenly Father the spirit of obedience,
which children should exercise towards their earthly
parents.
But filial obedience is subject to some  limitation.
Parental government has a striking resemblance to the
divine, but differs from it in one capital respect. While
the latter never errs, the former may err. Hlence cases
may occur in which filial obedience should be withheld.
These are of two kinds.
First, parents may require their children to do wrong;
as to lie, steal, cheat, swear, violate the Sabbath, or practise impurities. In such cases the child, ought not to
obey; for a higher than parental authority forbids him.
To obey his parents, in such cases, would be to disobey
God.  The command  is, "Obey  your parents in the
lord."
Secondly, children may  have religiouzs seruples  at
variance with parental commands. In such cases duty is
determined with less readiness. The child, while yet a
minor, may be of a different faith from his parent, may
wish to unite with a church which the parent disapproves;
or may consider himself bound by some religious obligation, of which his parent does not feel the force, and to
which he will not give his consent.
In this case the child should consider the sacredness
of the filial relation, and remember that nothing but the
clearest will of God can justify him in disobedience. He
should also consider his own youth and inexperience, and
420 
THE CODE OF DIJUTIES.
the possibility of his viewing things differently at a future time; he should seek the consent of his parents,
with a manifest desire to please them; and finally, he
should consider, if he cannot obtain their consent, that
the period of his minority will soon terminate, and that
present submission to their authority may be a more truly
religious act than any mere formal connection with religious ordinances.
Such considerations will serve to keep conscience void
of offence; while at the same time they will render the
necessity for resisting parental authority, from religious
scruples, of very rare occurrence.
FILIAL DOCILITY.
If it is the parent's duty to teach and to set the ewample, it is no less the child's duty to learn.  Docility, or a
disposition to learn, is one of the first and most characteristic duties of all childhood. Coming into the world entirely ignorant, all children alike have every thing to
learn. Genius, however brilliant, makes no exceptions.
Indeed genius and docility are almost synonymous terms.
And as the parent is the first and most responsible teacher,
so to the parent, before all others, should the child submit himself to be taught.
A propensity to this is implanted by nature. The
infant child looks up to its parent earnestly, confidingly,
submissively, for knowledge. It believes and accepts
all. It hangs upon its parent's lips and eyes as oracles.
It eagerly watches every action and emotion, to learn its
destiny and duty. So marked and important is this propensity, that Christ refers to it as indicating the spirit
with which we  must receive his gospel.  "Except ye
become as little children, ye shall in no wise enter into the
kingdom of God."
421 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
This docility of spirit all children should cherish as a
duty. It is indispensable to their progress in knowledge
and virtue. It is both their ornament and security. Nothing is more offensive to God and man, nothing more
surely indicates the future ruin of a child, than that spirit
of arrogance and conceit which contemns parental instruction. This spirit is one of the greatest dangers of the
present generation.
Many of the children of "Young America," where
youth is in the ascendant, and childhood asserts the honors hitherto accorded only to gray hairs, are becoming
fascinated with the conceit that the law of nature has
changed; that the time has come for age to keep silence
and the lips of infancy to speak; and that they are to
make their first demonstrations of superiority by assuming
to be wiser than their parents. But the law of nature has
not changed; it is the same now as when the command
to hearken to parental instruction was first written by the
finger of God; and they who disregard it, will eventually
be taught their error in lessons of bitter experience.
Thousands of ruined men are at this moment lamenting in vain their youthful folly, in not listening to the
instructions of their parents; and what they now suffer,
they will also leave for those youths to suffer in their
turn, who follow in their footsteps.
Children blessed with good parents should also imitate
their examvle.  The principle of imitation is in no respect
more active and important, than as inducing children to
follow the example of their parents. It lays the responsibility with great emphasis upon -parents to set a good
example; while it also fastens the duty upon their children to follow it. In this way parents become, in the
most practical sense, the moulders of their children's
character.
422 
THE CODE OF DIUTIES.
The children of good parents have their lesson ever
before them, not in the form of mere abstract principles
and precepts, but of living example. It is a picture they
need only to copy. They have but to imitate the justice
and benevolence, the courage and meekness, the industry
and self-sacrifice, the fidelity and truthfulness, the conscientious regard to duty, exhibited in the daily conduct
of their parents, and their own character is securely formed. It is by this means, preeminently, that parents are
to train up their children in the way they should go.
But let the child entertain the false notion, that the
example of his parents, however good, has no binding
force upon him; that it even bespeaks a noble independence to depart from it; let him listen to the voice which
says, "Walk in the ways of thine heart, and in the sight
of thine eyes;" let him thus " break their bands in sunder, and cast away their cords from him; " and he is selfdoomed to ruin. Thousands of children, instigated by
bad companions and evil dispositions, are continually destroying themselves in this manner. The temperance, the
sobriety, the observance of the Sabbath, the industry, the
frugality, which have made their parents successful and
independent, they discard as old-fashioned and puritanic,
in favor of those freer and more self-indulgent habits
whose end is ruin and sorrow.
FILIAL GRATITUDE.
The affectionate and self-sacrificing attentions bestowed
by parents upon their children, demand corresponding
returns of gratitude. The principle of gratitude is innate.
It is often marred and sometimes perhaps quite displaced
by wickedness, but every person true to his nature is
grateful for benefits. He who is never grateful for favors
is not only below humanity, but even below the brutes.
423 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
But if the Creator thus designed that we should be
grateful to all who do us good, he obviously meant that
we should be especially so to our parents, who are our
greatest earthly benefactors. The anxiety and pain, the
care and thought, the watchfulness and toil, the generous
sacrifice of ease and health and sometimes of even life itself,
to which they cheerfully submit for the sake of their children, can never be by the children fully appreciated,
until they have themselves become parents and experience
the same. It was thus divinely intended that filial gratitude, so far from ceasing with the age of minority, should
continue to increase thirough life.
A good child manifests a grateful disposition towards
his parents, as soon as he is old enough to appreciate their
favors. As every day renews their favors, it increases
his feeling of obligation. Nor is the feeling a passive
sentiment; it is active and efficient. It makes him prompt
to obey them, and to do all in his power to relieve their
cares and contribute to their happiness. Knowing that
they are anxious for his welfare, he strives to be worthy
of their benefactions. As he sees them toiling to educate
and train him for honor and usefulness, he himself toils
for the same end. He thus throws himself into their
plans and wishes, sympathizes with their feelings, and
makes common cause with them in his personal we]fare.
Some may call this a selfish gratitude; but by whatever name called, its prevalence is greatly to be desired.
If all children favored with good parents were under its
controlling influence, the world would be rapidly redeemed from its crimes and its miseries. The gratitude of
children thus expressed would infallibly conduct them to
lives of virtue and honor, and would thus realize to parents
the promise, "Instead of thy fathers shall be thy children,
whom thou mayest make princes in all the earth."
424 
THE CODE OF DUTIES.
But true filial gratitude by no means exhausts itself
in this direction. It looks towards the personal welfare
and happiness of the p(arents. It seeks to relieve their
cares, lighten their burdens, anticipate their wants, and
augment their means of comfort.
After the grateful child has passed the years of his
minority, and he sees the infirmity of years pressing upon
his parents, his endeavors for their comfort are characterized by that delicacy which never allows them to feel
that the care of them is a burden. The attentions which
they have from his infancy bestowed upon him, he now
returns in unceasing attentions to them. If they are
called first to "walk through the valley of the shadow of
death," his prayers and blessings will follow them all the
way, until they finally disappear from the scenes of earth;
and, as long as he lives, his tears of grateful remembrance
will not cease to fall upon their graves.
425 
CHIAPTER VI.
FRATERNAL DUTIES.
NEXT to the relation of husband and wife, and of parents
and children, is that of the children of the same family to
each other. Born of the same parents, subject to the
same government, trained under the same culture, heirs
to the same inheritance, and having a common interest in
the weal or woe of the family, their relation is very intimate, and involves some special duties. We shall notice
these in the most natural order.
And first of all, they should tenderly love each other.
The fraternal affection originates, as we have seen, in nature. Children of the same family are naturally inclined
to love one another. This is in part owing to their being
brought up together, but the peculiar affection to which
we refer, is mostly due to their regarding each other as
children of the same parents.
This affection wvas implanted for an important purpose,
and should be sacredly cherished. In order to this, every
child has these two duties to perform.
First, he should so conduct towards his brothers and
sisters as to render himself lovely to them. HIe will thus 
THE CODE OF DUTIES.
deserve their affection.   By forbearance towards their
provocations, by acts of kindness and generosity towards
them, by sympathy with their wants and trials, in short,
by exhibiting towards them the true fraternal spirit, he
may render it an easy and delightful task for them to love
him. He may thus bind their hearts to him with cords
that can never be broken.
Secondly, while binding their hearts to him, he should
also bind his own heart to them..  He should tenderly regard them as children with himself of the same parents;
he should appreciate all their kindnesses, and be ever
quick to see in them whatever is deserving of his approbation. He must be to them not the mere guardian and
benefactor, but the affectionate brother.   The fraternal
affection is not a mere patronizing feeling on the one
side, nor a mere grateful one on the other; it is mutual
and unselfish love, in view of sustaining the endearing
relation of children of the same parents.
This reciprocity of fraternal affection should continue
through life. It should not be allowed to languish, after
the children leave the parental roof. Having so conducted towards each other while together as to give it deep
root in their hearts, they should carefully avoid any cause,
whether in the distribution of property or subsequent pursuits, that might tend to alienation. The affection begun
in childhood, should grow and bear fruit through all their
lives.
If Providence casts their lot near each other, it will
contribute in various ways to their mutual advantage and
happiness.  It will dispose them to bear each other's burdens, and to heighten each other's joys.   It will render
sweet and delightful the social intercourse of their families, and thus greatly augment the pleasures of daily life
within their enchanted circle.   Brothers, sisters, and
427 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
the numerous host of cousins, are thus made happy in
each other. The delightful intimacies of families thus related, have a benign influence upon the moral and religious culture of the young, and upon the stability and general welfare of the state.
If their lots are cast far apart, they should cherish the
mutual affection by correspondence. True fraternal love
is superior to time and distance. Rolling prairies, towering mountains, wide oceans, cannot destroy it. And
however widely separated, brothers and sisters feel the
power of each other's love, strengthening, cheering, blessing them, in the great battle of life. How angel-like is
the voice of a dear brother or sister coming from a distant
land, telling us of the heart that still loves us, of the lips
that still pray for us; reminding us of the " sweet home"
that we once enjoyed together, and pointing us to our
eternal home in heaven, where we hope to meet again.
In a world so cold and selfish as this, fraternal love,
deeply rooted in childhood and nurtured through life, is
of unspeakable worth. No amount of parental estate, for
which children too often contend, can compare in value
with it. Better that the largest fortune be sunk in the
sea, than that it should become an occasion of alienation
between them.  " Behold, how good and how pleasant it
is for bretlhren to dwell together in unity."
MUTUAL INFLUENCE.
Children of the same family are so intimately related
in their daily intercourse as to have a most decisive influence upon each other. One bad child may, by the contagion of his words and his example, spread pestilence
through the household. If he resists parental authority,
example, instruction; if he uses vulgar or profane lan
428 
TIHE CODE OF DUHITES.
guage; if he indulges in vicious practices; he both
teaches and emboldens the other children to do the same.
If lie is selfish, morose, fretful, he infuses the same unhappy spirit into those around him. If he is idle, foppish,
vaini, his influence will tend to make the others like himself. If he is wasteful, extravagant, reckless, he may by
his example become the means of ruin to the whole household.  "A little leaven leaveneth the whole lump."
On the other hand, like an angel from the skies hovering around the family and showering blessings upon it
fiom his golden wings, such is a truly loving and faithful
elder brother to the younger children of the household.
He is of more value to them than mines of wealth.   His
conduct wins their confidence and affection, and the influence thus secured he exerts for their present and future
welfare. They will remember him, with gratitude which
words are too feeble to express, in all after time.   The
same may be true of an elder sister.
Children should consider this before it is too late.
Here is a duty to be done during the brief period in
which they are together under the parental roof; a period
soon to be passed, and never to return.
PARTICULAR DUTY OF BROTHERS TO SISTERS.
A brother may confer many favors upon his sisters,
which no other person can. Their physical delicacy and
the customs of society render them peculiarly dependent
upon the other sex. They cannot go out of evenings
alone or unprotected; they must not thrust themselves
forward into society; they have need of peculiar caution
in making acquaintances; prudence forbids them to speak
in their own behalf; and they often endure neglect, slander, insult, rather thlan be bold in their own defence.
429 
MORAL PEILOSOPHY.
In all these particulars a kind and judicious brother
may render them essential service. Hle may favor them
with his company and attentions; he may assist them in
forming suitable acquaintances; he may protect them
from slander and insult; he may often be the means of
so bringing them forward in their education, and iIntioducing them into society, as to place them in desirable
positions for life.
All this should be done, not with the grudging of a
patronizing spirit, but with the cheerful, unselfish, chivalrous spirit of the loving brother.   By these delicate and
generous attentions, he will deeply embalm himself in
their affections; for who ever knew the sister that did not
love such a brother?  And more than this, he will realize an unspeakable reward in their greatly augmented
welfare and happiness.
PARTICULAR DUTY OF SISTERS TO BROTHERS.
A sister may also be of peculiar service to her brothers.
She can do for them what none but a sister can do, at
least so well.
Boys are inclined to be rough and boisterous in their
manners; to be selfish and impatient in their demands;
to be fond of being absent of evenings, amidst dissipating
excitements; and, in various ways, to disregard the duties
of home, and the restraints of parental authority.  The
peculiar faults of boys often arise mostly from the excess
of animalism, and the rude impatience to which it impels.
A sister may do much towards. correcting all this. By
her gentleness and delicacy, she may refine their manners. By her kind sympathy with their trials, devotion
to their wants, and endeavors to promote their happiness,
she may obtain such hold on their affections as to have a
430 
THE CODE OF DUTIES.
magic sway over them. A loving and kind sister is her
brother's intercessor with their father, and seldom fails of
success. If they are sick, no attentions are more soothing
than hers. She beguiles the long winter evenings with
music, reading, and agreeable and instructive conversation, and thus makes home attractive.
The home of cultivated, amiable, loving sisters, faithful to their vocation, is the most charming spot upon
earth.   Seldom is a brother so wayward as to resist its
influence. Its power over him is very great, while he is
present; it is scarcely less, when he is absent. If exposed
to the temptations of a great city, if a sailor upon the
ocean, if a stranger in foreign lands, he remembers that
dear home, those precious sisters, the smiles and tears
caught from them by his last parting look, and by all the
love he bears them, feels constrained to do nothing which
they would not approve. By the hope of again enjoying
their society, he summons a brave heart to the conflicts
and duties before him.
Thus the character, the happiness, the success of
young men depends, in a great measure, upon their sisters. Their influence is next to that of parents, and sometimes even transcends it.
DUTIES OF THE ELDER TO THE YOUNGER CHILDREN.
The elder children owe some special duties to the
younger.  Once the eldest child was the only one.  lHe
enjoyed the undivided parental affection, and all the toys,
rights and privileges of the nursery, were under his exclusive control. But another has come to share with him,
and now his position is materially changed. It is his first
duty to welcome the little stranger, and cheerfully to relinquish a due portion of the blessings which he has hith
431 
MORAL PHILOSOPHIY.
erto possessed alone. Unselfish and unenvious, he must
adopt the we]fare of the little brother or sister, and seek
it as heartily as his own.
Nor is this all. The elder children should assist in
taking care of the younger, and thus relieve their parents.
Otherwise the care of parents, as their families increase,
would often be insupportable. They cannot usually afford
to keep servants enough to take the entire care of each
child, and even if they could, servants cannot fill the place
of brothers and sisters. Of these duties the children cannot so well judge as their parents, and should therefore
ever be, inl these as in all others, subject to their control.
While the elder children assist their parents in protecting and teaching the younger, they must not usurp
authority over them.   They must act the loving and
faithful brother or sister, but not the parent. They may
instruct, admonish, persuade, but never command and
punish.  They may, however, greatly a,3ss,t parental government. If they are themselves respectful and obedient,
their admonition and example will usually be followed.
Thus the filial piety, and even the entire character and
destiny of the younger children, often turn upon the conduct of the eldest brother or sister.
SUSPICION OF PARTIALITY TO BE AVOIDED.
- A selfish child is prone to suspect his parents of partality.  If they do not always espouse his interest and
gratify his wishes, he accuses them of doing better by his
brothers and sisters than by himself. He forgets that
others have claims as well as he. He sees with the eyes
of a selfish individual, while his parents see with the
eyes of a guardianship embracing alike the rights of all.
They may see reasons for treating their children in some
432 
THIE CODE OF DUTIES.
respects differently, while they have the welfare of all
equally at heart.
As children are adapted to different situations and
callings, the wise parent will have due regard to this
adaptation. Those children are unjust to a brother or
sister, who would deprive him or her of an advantage,
just because they are themselves incompetent to enjoy it.
One may have the capacity to excel as a student, which
the others do not possess. They must not envy that one
the privilege of a liberal education, nor accuse the parents
of partiality in affording it. If at the same time their
capacities are consulted, and the best possible advantages
afforded them, no partiality is exercised.
While no sight is more pleasing than that of a family
of children uniting in each other's welfare, rejoicing in
each other's success, bearing each other's burdens, and
never admitting jealousy or strife within their happy
circle, nothing on the other hand is more odious than a
family feud. Heart-burnings and contentions between
children of the same fanmily, whether before or after their
legal interests are divided, are so unnatural, so monstrous,
that both earth and heaven abhor them.
MUTUAL OBLIGATIONS IN AFTER LIFE.
After children have become of age and have established separate pecuniary interests, they should still do
what they can, consistently with duty to their own families, to assist each other. Next to his own family, a man
should regard his brothers and sisters. Natural affection
suggests this. He acts an unnatural part, who sees the
children of his own parents want, when it is in his power
to relieve them. If he is prospered, he may often provide favorable situations for his brothers, assist to educate
19
433 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
his sisters, and thus be the means of placing them all in
eligible circumstances.
Sometimes there is an unfortunate child, maimed,
cripple, idiotic, or through some idiosyncrasy incapable
of self-maintenance. It is the duty of the other children,
after the decease of the parents, to provide for him.
Nor should they do it grudgingly. They should gratefully consider their own advantages, and gladly do all
in their power to compensate the peculiar trials of him
less favored. Their regard to family reputation should
unite with fraternal affection in forbidding public charity
to support him, so long as they are able to do it.
They should not only support him while they live, but
make suitable provision for him by will, in case he survives them.  Their benefactions of this nature, as well as
all others, should be regulated by a suitable regard to other
objects. Brothers and sisters, next to their own families,
have the first but not the sole claim upon them. There
are other objects, educational, social, religious, which
demand voluntary aid. It cannot therefore be one's duty
to provide so largely for his relatives as to exonerate them
from all necessity of effort, and bestow nothing upon
these important objects. He has a legal right to dispose
of his property as he pleases, however narrow and selfish
his views; but there is a nmoral demand upon him, that
is not so summarily cancelled. On the other hand, he
who bestows all his remaining property, after providing
for his family, upon public objects, disregarding the wants
of a needy brother or sister, may obtain praise of man as
a public benefactor, but a more righteous tribunal will
not hold him guiltless. " These ought ye to have done,
and not to leave the other undone."
42,4 
CHIAPTER VII.
CIVIL DUTIES.
IucIfT talent and learning have been expended upon the
subjects of civil freedom and political economy. Beautiful
theories of government have been framed, which have promised a millennium of liberty and of wealth to the nations.
But their expectations have not been realized; nor will
they ever be. Redemption to the enthralled people does
not so come. The difficulty lies deeper than most theorists
have looked; it is not primarily in governments, but in
the depravity of men. Were all the angels in heaven to
combine their wisdom to form a political system and impose it upon the nations, it would not of itself avail to
make them contented and happy.
The best possible government, placed over an ignorant and vicious people, would be by them deemed tyrannical and oppressive; and, if submitted to their management, would be by them spoiled within a single year. A
fortune might as well be bestowed upon profligate children
with the expectation of its doing them good. The troubles
of nations are not so much of their governments as of 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
themselves.  Both may be bad; but if even God himself
failed in hAis government to bless the people, as he would
fain have done, because they were "stiff-necked and rebellious," it can hardly be expected that political theorists
will hit upon a plan that will prove successful, until the
people themselves become wiser and better.
The world is not to be saved by governments.   Redemption must come to the nations by other means.
Civil government is an efect rather than a cause; an exponent of what the people are, rather than a power effective to make them what they should be.  This is especially true of all constitutional governments; and, in fact, of
all governments having in them any of the elements of
civil liberty.
Intelligence and virtue must go in advance and prepare the way.  The people must be taught.  Many must
run to and fro, and knowledge must be increased. The
public conscience must be enlightened and quickened.
The principles of sound morality, and their practical bearings upon the individual and general welfare, must be inculcated. The people must be touched and magnetized
with the true spirit of liberty.  They must be made
to see their duties, their capabilities, and their exalted
privileges.
Above all, the regenerating power of the Gospel must
be put forth upon the people, and " the leaves of the tree
for the healing of the nations," must be scattered broadcast over the world.   Then "there shall be no more
curse;" nations and governments will be what they
ought to be. Each government will then as naturally assume the form and operation best suited to its people, as
the human body naturally assumes the finest symmetry
and movement, when its informing dynamic forces are in
healthy and harmonious action.
436 
THE CODE OF DUTIES.
To theorize upon the best form of government is therefore no part of our present object.   We have to do with
general principles, applicable alike to all governments.
We are to take mankind and governments as they are,
and to indicate the principles of civil duty under all circumstances.
CIVIL DUTIES DEFINED.
Civil duties are those which relate to the state.  But
what is the state?  It is not a mere voluntary compact,
as some have supposed, but an institution of God. People
living together in the same country constitute a state, just
as parents and children living under the same roof constitute a family.
Let a company of strangers be cast upon a hitherto uninhabited island, and they will there have of necessity
certain interests in common. They become, by their position, mutually dependent for protection and liberty, and
are thus a state. They may not as yet have adopted any
regulations, nor enacted any laws; still the state is a state,
just as the family is a family, prior to all its rules. Government is the instrt7nent, which the state or the family
employs to secure its ends.
The state, then, is created by God; government is established and administered by men. Yet both civil and
family governments are authorized by God, and are thus
sacredly binding upon us. But as the form and administration of governments are of men, and partake of human
imperfections, the state may sit in judgment upon them, and
annul or alter them, as the interests of the people demand.
Let us then define our several positions.
The entire body of people living together in a condition of mutual dependence for protection and liberty, are
the state.
437 
MORAL PHILOSOPH[Y.
The rules and methods which the state employs to secure its ends, are civil governlent.
The persons employed to administer the government,
are magistrates.
The subjects of government, in their direct relations
to it as such, are citizens.
There are, then, three general relations, in which men
may act in the discharge of civil duties.  They may act
as the state, engaged in instituting government; or as
magistrates, engaged in executing the will of the state; or
as citizens, engaged in obeying its laws. In a monarchy,
the first two are monopolized by the sovereign.
In constitutional or free governments, they may be
shared by the entire people.  Human imnperfection is thus
in a great measure obviated; since the legislator, the
judge, and the executor, operate as salutary checks upon
each other. If the legislator errs, self-partiality is not
allowed to confirm his errors in judgment, but another
must judge him. And if the judge errs, he may not confirm his errors by executing his own decrees, but a discretionary power is lodged with the chief executive magistrate. Such is the beautiful arrangement of constitutional
government.
Following the above analysis, we shall consider civil
duties under three heads; the duties of the state, the duties of magistrates, and the duties of citizens.
I. DUTIES OF THE STATE.
1. The state should adapt her government to the qual
iycations of the people.  If the people are capable of sustaining freer institutions than she allows, she keeps herself
and her subjects in guilty and degrading bondage. But
if she strikes for a freer government than the people can
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THE CODE OF DUTIES.
sustain, she perils the liberty already enjoyed. She ought,
then, losing nothing by delay, and yet perilling nothing by
haste, to press her government closely along with the
qualifications of her subjects, towards the highest practicable liberty. Any attempt to effect a sudden and entire
change of government with a view to greater liberty, is
seldom safe.  Indeed, history seems to prove that it is
nevw  so, excepting in the case of people geographically
separated from the parent state, and able to govern and
protect themselves.
2. The state should place in office the best  ual7,ed men.
In a monarchical government, this duty rests with the sovereign; but in a republic it devolves upon all voters.
Both they who refrain from voting, and they who vote
from mere party or selfish motives, are false to their responsible trust. If all refrain from voting, there can be
no organized government, and of course anarchy is the
alternative. If all vote from mere party spirit, regardless
of the qualifications of their candidates, incompetent rulers
will be chosen, and thus government will be badly administered.
The true friend to his country will then be true at the
polls. As a part of the state, he will consider it his duty
to do his part towards the election of suitable men to
office; as much as it is, in the relation of subject, to obey
its laws.
3. The state should2provide the means for her prosperity and defence. She should provide armies, navies, fortifications, and all other things needful for defence; she
she should also improve her harbors, facilitate the navigation of her rivers; construct and support light-houses;
and do all other public works demanded by the national
welfare.   These things cannot be done by individuals.
They are national. Individual citizens have neither the
439 
MORAL PHILOSOPHIIY.
ability nor the right to do them. The man who, on his
own responsibility, erects a light-house, does as morally
wrong an act, and may occasion as much damage, as he
who destroys one which the state has erected. The state
must do public works; citizens must let them alone.
To provide the means in question, the state should
husband to best advantage her natural resources, as from
the sale of her lands, &c., and if these are not sufficient,
she must levy equitable taxes and imposts. These should
bear equally and justly upon all trades, all kinds of property, and all classes of citizens. Where the state can, in
justice to all, so levy them as to encourage desirable
kinds of industry, and thus enhance the national wealth,
she is bound to do so. She thus secures her two great
ends, the protection and the industry of her subjects.
4. The state should emp7loy the sanctions of religion.
She ought to be tolerant to all her subjects, never attempting to coerce the faith of any; but she must regard
the man of no faith as an anomaly, a thing by itself; and
hence no legitimate part of the state. All men in the
normal condition have some religious belief and some
conscience; they have a sense of accountability to a superior power. This faith the state must protect, and she
must make use of it for the support of government. No
state can institute and enforce laws without it. She cannot without it even administer the civil oath.
But when the state adopts any specific form of religious
faith to the exclusion of all others, making it the favorite
and the tool of government, she is false to herself and unjust to the people. For the state is not a part, nor a majority, but the whole of the responsible people, and hence
the whole of that people must be respected in their religion. Be it but one man, and he the humblest in the nation, he is still an integral part of the state, as truly so as
440 
THE CODE OF DUTIES.
a finger or a toe is an integral part of the body. Neither
of them should be cut off, merely for being a small and
feeble member. The question in morals is never one of
?ight, but always a question of right. The feeblest man
is still a man; his conscience and faith, whatever they
may be, are sacredly his own, and the state may never
take them from him. He is for these responsible only to
God.
5. The state should employ judicial oaths with strict regard to the religious faith of the people.  No man can
conscientiously swear upon a creed which he does not
believe. Whenever a man does swear upon such a creed,
his oath is of no avail. If a man acknowledges no religious
responsibility, his oath is a nullity. He is not, as we have
said, a legitimate part of the state. As he disowns a rationilal and accountable nature, and thus takes the position
of an animal, the state must treat him as it does other
animals.
Oaths are administered in cases of testimony, as when
a man is a witness and swears to the truth of what he
asserts; and also in cases of engagement, as when a man
enters into covenant and swears to abide by it.  The former impose fidelity in recalling and stating facts; the latter in discharging official duties and responsible trusts.
Hence oaths are naturally divided into two kinds, those
of testimony, and those of engagement.
The modified form of oath called ajffrmation, preferred
by the quakers, is equally valid with the usual form.
And even an oath on the Koran, or the sacred books of
India or China, if the subject is a religious believer in
them, must be accepted by the state; the right being reserved of attaching the due relative importance to his testimony or promise. In a Mahometan country, testimony
or promise confirmed by an oath on the Koran would
19*
441 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
naturally pass at par value; in a Christian country, it
riight pass for less. If a man is a true and consistent believer in future retributions, his oath will pass with considerate persons for much  more than if his views were
less serious.
As an oath is an appeal to God, a prayer for his assistance and an imprecation of his vengeance, it is a very
solemn religious act. On this account, the taking of oaths
on common occasions, or what is called profane swearing,
is imnimoral and wicked. It is both sinful and vulgar, condemned alike by Christianity and the rules of good breeding.  "Swear not at all; neither by heaven, for it is God's
throne, neither by the earth, for it is his footstool; neither
by Jerusalem, for it is the city of the great king. Neither
shalt thou swear by thy head, because thou canst not
make one hair white or black. But let your comnmunications be yea, yea; nay, nay: for whatsoever is more
than these cometh of evil." * All profane oaths tend
to weaken rather than strengthen the affirmation, while
they also fix the brand of impiety and vulgarity upon
their subject.
But this is no more reason why judicial oaths should
be discarded, than the fact that mock worship is often
offered to God, is a reason why we should not worship him
" in spirit and in truth."  The state needs the solemn sanctions of religion thus applied, and in availing herself of
themn, acts under the express authority of God.t   Indeed
he has himself set us the example.:   These facts prove
at once the immorality and impiety of profane oaths, and
the entire rightfulness of judicial oaths, when strictly demanded.
* Matth. 5: 35-37.
t See Rom. 1:9.  II. Cor. l: 23.  L Thess. 2:5.
t See Isaiah 45: 23.  Jer. 49: 13.  Amos 6: 8.
442 
THE CODE OF DUTIES.
But even judicial oaths should be as infrequent as possible. Their object is to quicken and elevate the conscience by a solemn appeal to God, and this appeal is the
more effective the less frequently it is made. When
judicial oaths are administered on trivial occasions, and
thus become common and familiar, they degenerate to a
vulgar formality.  Thoughtlessly administered  and received, they partake of the moral quality of profane
swearing.
6. The state shotld have the control of all property.
A man's property is his own, only upon the condition of
its being always subject to God and the state. God is
the sovereign owner of all property; the state is the
second; and the citizen is the third. The right of the
citizen to control his own property, is opposed to all rights
and attempts of other citizens to control it, but never to
the higher rights of God and of the state. Thus every
man's property is his own, only as the state makes and
keeps it so.
And this the state is always bound to do, reserving
the right so to control it as best to promote the welfare of
the people, without loss to the individual. The state
should encourage industry and promote thrift, by securing to each citizen the proceeds of his own labor, while
at the same time it must not allow public and private interests to collide.
The state has the right to impose taxes upon individual
property, for general purposes. Education, roads, bridges,
public buildings, legislation, courts, penalties, are objects to be provided for by taxes upon the property of
citizens.
The state has also the right to appropriate private
lands to needfuil public uses. She may not only tax the
soil, but take it, if the public good requires, and appro
443 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
priate it to her own use, or to that of an incorporated
company, always allowing the owner a fair compensation.
Thus if the interests of the people demand a highway, a
railroad, a bridge, a ferry, a park, it is not left for the
citizen owning the required land to say whether the state
shall use it for that purpose, but the state may take it and
use it at discretion, allowing for it a reasonable compensation.
7. The state should not allow unfair monopolies. She
must not herself monopolize, nor must she allow any citizens to do so. She must to some extent hold property,
and she must buy and sell. Otherwise she could not have
forts, navy-yards, fleets, armies, and the other means of
public defence.  But she should hold the exclusive possession of property only so far as the general good demands. All wealth, so far as practicable, should be in
the hands of the citizens. Scarcely a greater calamity
can befall a town than to have the state hold an excllsive control of a large part of it.
Much less may the state embark in speculation.  As
her resources are mostly from the citizens, she can speculate only at their risk. Especially odious is her conduct
when, for the sake of augmenting her income, she forestalls the market and monopolizes the sale of an article
needful for the sustenance of the citizens, and compels
them to pay a forced price for it. This has been done in
Great Britain and in some other states, to the great detriment of all parties.
Neither may the state allow her citizens to monopolize.
She should encourage enterprise in individuals, and she
should encourage the same in corporate bodies; but the
interests of individuals and those of companies must not
be allowed to conflict with each other. One of the nicest
and most difficult duties of the state is here demanded.
444 
THE CODE OF DUTIES.
She should not only prevent these interests from colliding, but should make them mutually advantageous.   A
manufacturing corporation may be so constituted as to
diffuse individual industry and thrift on every side, or it
may be empowered to produce the very opposite result.
The state must charter banks, factories, railroads,
bridges, &c., because the general welfare demands them;
but she should never grant a charter conferring a monopoly or any extraordinary advantages upon the grantees,
to the detriment of the public. In a word, as the state is
bound to consult impartially the interests of the w'hole
people, she cannot afford to be generous to a part of
them. If she is generous to some, she is unjust to
others.
8. The state shouldfoster education.  It is as important that she provide for the education of the people, as for
their health, wealth, and defence. Indeed, education is
an essential means to all these. Public freedom, the first
object of the state, cannot be sustained without a general
diffusion of knowledge. She is therefore bound to provide for the education of the people, and to exercise her
legislative authority in establishing and sustaining literary
institutions.
But her duties lie rather in providing the means of
education, than in directing the specific course of it. She
is bound to see that nothing immoral  or seditious is
taught; but further than this, her duties to literary institutions are general. She may do too much, as well as
too little. She should leave it for the citizens of each
town or district, to select their teachers, locate their
schools, and supervise them; while the teachers should
be usually regarded as the most competent to select the
books, direct the studies, and secure the discipline. Even
the higher institutions, academies, colleges, universities,
445 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
are usually better directed by their teachers and overseers than by the state.
9. The state should foster religioi. She is dependent
upon it for the support of government.  No good government ever did or can exist without it. As well might a
palace rest suspended in the air, or the Andes repose on
the bosom of the Atlantic, as civil government be sustained without religion.
It is only as the state plants her authority and builds
her government upon the fact that man is amenable to
his Maker, and will be by him brought into judgment,
that her authority has any force, her oaths any meaning,
or her government any foundation. She is bound, therefore, to respect the religious as well as intellectual culture
of her subjects; to foster religion not less than education.
But here again, as in the case of education, she may
do too much. She should bind no man's conscience, but
she must assume that all men have conscience, and are
responsible to God for their conduct.
First, she should protect religous worsh?i.  She must
not undertake to decide for the citizens the particular form
of their worship, but allow every man to decide that for
himself. She may also leave it to them to defray the expense of their worship, since some choose to expend upon
it more than others. Those who prefer the more expensive church and ministrations should pay for them. But
the state should impartially charter and protect the societies of every religious creed not subversive of her institutions; she should throw her guardian wing over them
all alike, and sacredly regard both their worship and their
property.
Secondly, she should enjoin the sacred observance of
her Sabbath. All states have their sabbaths; for all
people have their special religious days. The holy day
446 
THE CODE OF DUTIES.
of all Christian people is of course the Christian Sabbath.
Every Christian state is bound to protect it as sacred to
her citizens, and as a means of sustaining just authority
over them. She needs it to enlighten and quicken their
consciences, to form and protect their morals, to regulate
their domestic and social habits, and thus to render them
enlightened and loyal subjects of her government. If
any man's faith requires him to observe the seventh day
as sacred, she should allow him to do so; but she must
not allow him to disturb the worship nor the sacredness
of her own Sabbath.
Thirdly, she should proiit call blasphemy andp rofane swearing.  No man can plead the dictates of conscience, as a reason for being released from such a prohibition. No man's right is invaded by not being allowed
to profane and blaspheme God, for no man ever had any
such right. On the other hand, the state has very serious
rights and duties in the matter. Such immoralities tend
to destroy all reverence for God, to annihilate the validity
of judicial oaths, and to sap the foundations of civil government.
Fourthly, she should encourage the free circulation of
the Bible.  All states have their sacred books or oracles;
that of a Christian state is the Bible. Iter laws are founded upon its principles and sustained by its authority. The
more the people read and understand it, the greater will
be the amount of liberty which the state can give them.
She can give them thoroughly free institutions, only as they
read and adopt the teachings of that book which is the
charter of their liberty. Just in the degree that they become enlightened in its truths and obedient to its principles, they become capable of understanding and sustaining free government.
10. The state should prohibit all treasonable and in
447 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
moral conduct. She must do so, not because such conduct is displeasing to God; for she has nothing to do with
that consideration; but because it is itnjurious to herself.
For this reason she must have prohibitory laws with suitable penalties, and magistrates to enforce them.  Thus
she must have laws against treason, murder, adultery, perjury, arson, fraud, lying, seduction, uncleanness, theft,
cruelty, slander, and other such immoralities; and she
should graduate their penalties, not with reference to the
offence against God, but against herself. It is her duty to
legislate, judge, and punish, for herself, not for God.
Her law is not needed to keep the righteous in order;
they are controlled by allegiance to the higher law of God.
But it is needed to keep the unrighteous in order, that
they may not injure the state and invade the liberties of
the virtuous.   "The law is not made for a righteous man,
but for the lawless and disobedient, for the ungodly and
sinners, for unholy and profane; for murderers of fathers
and murderers of mothers, for manslayers, for whoremongers, for them that defile themselves with mankind; for
men-stealers, for liars, for perjured persons; and if there
be any other thing contrary to sound doctrine." *
* 1 Tim. 1: 9.
448 
CHAPTER VIII.
CIVIL DUTIES CONTINUED.
II. DUTIES OF MAGISTRATES.
ALL persons appointed to office by the state, whether in
the legislative, judicial, or executive departments, are
called qmafi,trates. We proceed to notice their respective
duties.
DUTIES OF LEGISLATORS.-The legislators are men chosen
by the people to enat their laws. The question arises,
whether they are to be bound by the will of their constituents. Ought they to enact such laws as the people
desire, or such as their own judgment approves?
They are usually appointed with the knowledge of
their constituents' wishes. In such cases they are in honor
bound to decline appointment, unless their own views
coincide with theirs. But their own views, may change
after their appointment, while those of their constituents
mnay remain unchanged. What then? If they cannot
execute the known judgment of their constituents without
doing violence to their own, they should resign their office.
The only exceptions to this rule are found in those sudden emergencies, in which there is not time for them to 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
resign, and to have their place supplied by another, before action is demanded. The legislator must then act
upon his own judgment, assuming the responsibility of
doing what he honestly believes to be best for the interests which he represents.   The state may subsequently
view the matter as he does; he will then have saved both
his conscience and his honor. Otherwise he has at least
saved his conscience, and only lost a re-election to an
office, which, as an honest man, he could not wish to
hold.
DUTIES OF JUDGES.-The judges are men appointed to
expound and apl7y the law.  They are not ordinarily to
decide what the law ought to be, but what it s. The
former question has been already settled.   They must
faithfully educe the exact import and design of the law,
and apply it impartially to the cases on hand.
But suppose circumstances are such as to render the
law in a particular case, at least in the letter of it, manifestly wrong. The duty of the judge is then one of peculiar responsibility. He is then bound to show, in a clear
and convincing light, not merely what the law is, but
what it ought to be. This brings up two questions, that
of its morality, and that of its constitutionality. As such
cases involve the highest and most responsible function
of the judiciary, they are usually reserved for the highest
tribunals.
The leading qualification of a judge is sound judgment, his leading duty, impartiality.
DUTIES OF EXECUTIVE OFFICERS.-The executive officers
are the men who enforce the laws. They include the highest functionaries of state.   Autocrats, emperors, kings,
presidents, governors, as well as the subordinate executive officers, are of this class. Their power to enforce law
is more or less absolute, according to the nature of the
450 
THE CODE OF DUTIES.
government. The autocrat concentrates all the departments of government in himself. He enacts, judges, and
enforces the law, according to his sovereign pleasure.
But in a constitutional government, the power of the
executive is more or less limited by the constitution. In
a republic, the chief magistrate has no voice in enacting
and judging the laws, and no power to veto their going into
effect against a vote of two-thirds of the legislative houses.
But as he reconmmends the measures to be pursued and
the laws which he will favor, and as any law enacted by
legislators may be by him destroyed, unless it is sustained
by a vote of two-thirds of their entire body, an immense
power for good or for evil is lodged in his hands. All the
national defences, the general improvements, the public revenues, the sources of national and individual wealth, the
provisions for education and religion, even the health and
life of the people, are in a great measure subject to his
control. His moral responsibility is proportionably great.
In addition to the duty of recommending, in all his
regular and special proclamations, the best and wisest
measures, he has also most responsible duties relating to
the distribution of offices, and to the vetoing and the
pardoning powers.
1. Rule of the distributiorn of oftces.-It is very natural that the chief magistrate should prefer to have in office
his political, and, so far as practicable, his personal friends.
It is very right, too, that he should duly consider those
who have promoted his election. But he is bound by his
oath, and by the pure principles of morality, to allow no
political nor personal considerations to weigh against the
great public interest, of which he is the responsible guardian. He should therefore never displace a faithful servant from office and substitute an unfaithful or less competent one in his place. While favoring his friends and
451 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
rewarding his benefactors, so far as he consistently can,
he must never forget that the public welfare has the first
and highest demand upon him.
2. Rule of the vetoing power.-It is only in extreme
cases, that the executive can be justified in vetoing a law
fairly enacted by both branches of the legislature. The
theory of a republic is that the majority shall rule. As a
member of the republic, the president or governor is but
one man, and his wish should be no more regarded than
that of any other man. But as a chief magistrate, having
the welfare of the entire state in his eye, be may see reasons for defeating a law, which are not obvious to men
in other positions.
If he is thoroughly convinced, after mature and careful deliberation, that the true welfare of the state demands the vetoing of a law submitted to his decision, he
is morally bound to veto it, and abide the consequences.
This is one of the few instances in a republic, in which
the interests of the many are necessarily devolved upon
the decision of one person.   If his decision is sound,
public sentiment will eventually sustain him. If it is unsound, he has at least meant to do right, and the public
only suffer the consequences of their own doing, in appointing an incompetent ruler They must submit with
good grace, and endeavor to act more wisely in future.
3. Rule of the pardoningpower.-The chief magistrate
has also the power of arresting the final execution of law.
He may pardon or reprieve the criminal, or commute the
penalty. The vetoing power goes before the judge, and
nullifies the law itself; the pardoning power comes afte2
the judge, and arrests the execution of judgment.  This is
a power to take from the hands of declared justice the
criminal upon the scaffold, to postpone his execution, or
to substitute for it some other punishment, or to pardon
452 
THE CODE OF DUTIES.
him outright.  It is a power to do the same in less
criminal cases.
This is of course a most delicate and responsible trust.
Its design is to provide for any new development of evidence
or of palliating circumstances since the trial, affecting the
character and deserts of the criminal. It is intended to prolong the possibility of mercy till the last moment.  It has
also one other design. The criminal may have rendered
to the state some signal service, to which consideration is
due.   The proper person to remunerate this is the chief
magistrate.
When he sees, in the above grounds, clear and satisfactory reasons for arresting the course of law, it is his
duty to interpose mercy. But if he pardons or reprieves
without such reasons, he is guilty of a breach of trust.
If he allows himself to be governed by mere sympathy,
or party spirit, or partiality for the criminal, or if he is
influenced by a bribe to turn aside the course of justice as
proclaimed and enforced by the state, he is a corrupt and
treasonable magistrate. It is easy to see that when pardons and reprieves are capriciously or frequently granted,
the law loses its power, justice ceases to be feared, civil
courts become a mockery, and the flood-gates of crime
are widely opened.
But while the executive officer should be firm and decided, he should also be kind and affectionate. He should
act the mag as well as the officer.  The sheriff, during all
the time in which he has the criminal in charge, and even
while executing his dread final task upon the scaffold,
should do all in his power for the relief and comfort of
the unhappy person. This is the most effectual means to
subdue his heart and bring him to repentance. It is said
that General Washington sealed the death warrant of
Major Andre with his tears.
453 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
HIII. DUTIES OF CITIZENS.
Citizens are the subjects of government. Men acting
simply in this relation, are not to make, to judge, or to
execute the laws, but to obey them.  They may be sLilnmoned and empowered by the authorities, in special
emergencies, to assist them in enforcing law, but their
duty, acting as mere citizens, is obedience.
Obedience, however, 4s not always a duty.  When  a
man believes a law to be clearly at variance with the law
of God, he is not ethically bound to obey it; for his obligation to God is paramount. It is his duty in such a case
to flee the country, or to abide the consequences of obeying God where he is.
If a law, for instance, should require him to worship
idols, or to abjure his faith in Christ, he could not as a
Christian obey it. He must, like many of the early disciples of Jesus, rather suffer martyrdom. But in all cases
where the law of the land does not conflict with his conscience, he is bound to obey it. He may think it unwise
and unjust; he may regard it as especially prejudicial to
his own interests; and he may suppose that the majority
of the people agree with him in opinion; still, so long as
it remains the law, his duty is to obey it.  On no other
principle can constitutional government be sustained. It
is simply a question of law or no law, of rule or anarchy;
of a state of things in which life and property are protected, or a state in which they are at the mercy of a mob
or a tyrant. 
We are thus brought to the question respecting reform and reformation. It is asked, Must the people patiently endure the wrongs of government, and do nothing
to obtain relief? No. The means of relief are mostly in
454 
THE CODE OF DUTIES.
their own keeping, and it is both their right and their
duty to employ them. They may act either as citizens,
or as the state. As citizens, they may reform; it is only
as the state, that they may revolutionize.
The form of government must naturally vary according to the intelligence and virtue of the people. If, then,
any citizens would influence the government, if they would
render it more mild and liberal, they must seek to enlighten and reform the great body of the people. The
state, adapting its government to the qualifications of the
people, will be constrained to give them liberty according
as they are prepared to receive it.
Revolution with a view to more liberty, must prove
an inevitable failure, unless the people are qualixed for
freedom. The struggle for independence, if it results in
the overthrow of government, is followed by a brief reign
of anarchy, which is finally quelled by a military despotism, and succeeded by a government more despotic than
the preceding. The unwise citizens who engage in the
struggle, lose their labor, and perhaps also their blood,
and make things worse than they were when they began
to agitate.
Their way to higher liberty, then, is not in direct revolutionary measures, but in laboring to exalt the people to
higher capabilities. They may thus secure from the state
an increasingly liberal government, as the people are able
to appreciate and sustain it, until they attain to all the
essential advantages of republican institutions. Such has
been the course of the subjects of the British government.
They have thus induced it gradually to extend the privileges of the people, until they have become nearly as
great as are enjoyed in a republic. The opposite course
has been pursued in continental states, and their governments are still as despotic as ever.
455 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
But here is a serious difficulty. The state cannot sustain free institutions without an intelligent and virtuous
people, and how can the people become intelligent and
virtuous without free institutions?
It is granted that without some advantages, no people
could rise from a state of abject bondage. But none are
deprived of all means of self-improvement. Even under
the most oppressive governments, the people can do something towards it. This they have often done. And as
their qualifications for liberty rise, it becomes the duty of
the state, as I have said, to grant it to them. Whether
the state politic is vested in a despot, a king, an oligarchy,
or any privileged body, her duty is the same, to conform
to the capabilities of the people.   She is morally bound
to give them all the liberty they are able to bear.
She should grant this, even without being requested.
But if she does not, then the people should solicit it. If
their request is respectful, earnest, unanimous, no state
can long resist it.  She may reluctate at a change, she
may be unwilling to give the people a free constitution,
or a freer one than they enjoy at present, but she cannot
long resist the general wish of her intelligent and wellbehaved subjects.   In all countries the people actually
rule, directly or indirectly, according to the measure of
their intellectual and moral ability to do so. This is the
course of nature; it is in vain for states to contend against
it. It is right. The people have a natural claim to all
the liberty that is best for them; that is, to all they call
appreciate and protect. And this they will eventually
have.   State authorities may do much towards keeping
the people in ignorance; but they may as well attempt to
restrain the central fires of the globe, as the spirit of liberty in an intelligent and virtuous people.
Revolution may thus be usually effected by prudence
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THE CODE OF DUTIES.
and moderation, without loss of blood. There may be
desperate cases demanding desperate remedies; but there
is always danger lest the people, having risen to a degree
of power and obtained some privileges from the state, will
become impatient, and demand more than they are quali
fled to sustain, and will thus defeat their end.
Moderation in such cases is usually the only safe course
for the people, and therefore usually the right one. If the
state does much towards making the people what they are,
the people can do more towards making the state what it
should be. If citizens wisely use whatever means they
enjoy to rise in intellectual and moral power, they will
eventually become, what all citizens should aspire to be,
an essentially free, sovereign, independent people.
The course indicated above has the sanction of Jesus
Christ and his disciples. They never countenanced insubordination. The institutions under which they lived
and planted Christianity, were many of them very oppressive. But they nevertheless inculcated submission in all
cases not conflicting with the commands of God. They
abjured the sword, excepting for self-defence; teaching
that "all they who take the sword shall perish by the
sword; " while they pressed upon every man's conscience
the duty of imniediate personal repentance and righteousness. They have thus taught the enthralled world a lesson, to which it owes whatever of true fireedom it enjoys,
and which will ultimately be responded to by a jubilant
pean of liberty, going up to heaven from all nations.
"If the Son make you free, ye shall be free indeed."
If Christianity thus discountenances insubordination
and revolution by the sword, as the way to freedom, it
may be said that she condemns the action of the American
colonies in demanding as they did their independence of
Great Britain. Not at all. They had become, in the
20
457 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
course of Providence, a people capable of taking care of
themselves. They were as children grown to manhood,
and no longer of right subject to their father. They were
virtually a state, and so the parent state should have acknowledged them.
It was then not so much a revolution as a declaration
of right, of right insisted upon and maintained, that established the American independence. It was not a civil
war, but a struggle in self-defence, by a people who were,
and of right ought to be, a free and independent nation
On the same general principle, we determine the nature and extent of the citizen's right to the free use of his
personal will.  We have said that every citizen has an inalienable right to the free use of his own conscience, and
that it is his duty to obey its dictates.   As to all other
volitions, his right to exercise them turns upon the question, whether they are injurious to the state; and this the
state must decide. The object of civil government is the
liberty and protection of the people; but not the liberty
of each person to will and to act as he pleases, nor his
protection in selfish plans and gains, to the detriment of
the general welfare. Such a state of things is anarchy;
and is really the most oppressive of all tyranny.
The choices of the individual citizen must then be restrained within the limits demanded by the general welfare. But there are thousands of choices which every
man may exercise, without molesting the rights of others.
These the state should allow and protect. Thus every
citizen may exercise his choice in regard to his profession or trade, his house, living, equipage, place of residence, wife, society, social and domestic habits, &c., &c.;
and so long as he does not interfere with the rights of
others, the state must allow and protect him in such
choices.
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THIE  CODE  OF DITTIES.
But if he chooses to fence in the highway, or obstruct
a railroad, or take his neighbor's property, or marry
another's wife, or place a nuisance in the neighborhood,
or vend poisons in a way to endanger life, &c., the state
must forbid him. The liberty and welfare of the people
demand this restraint upon the individual, and every
citizen should cheerfully submit to it.
The citizen is justly bound to loyalty, not only of conduct, but of intention.  The same act, performed by the
same muscles and instruments, would be murder when
prompted by one intention, and benevolence when prompted by another. The assassin, who intentionally kills, and
the surgeon who kindly intends to prolong life, may each
be the occasion of death. The one is a humane person,
and the other a murderer, purely because of their different intentions.
Hence, in the eye of the state, as well as in the eye of
God, a man is to be judged with reference to his intention.
But there is an important difference between the cases in
the following respects.  First, the methods are different
of ascertaining what the intention is.  The state must
judge of it by evidence; but " God looketh on the heart."
Secondly, the state may never inquire whether the intention is prompted by prudence, or conscience, or loyalty
to God; whether it is merely virtuous, or moral, or also
religious; but simply whether it is true to Aer. With
the question whether a man is conscientious and religious
the state has nothing to do, but with this very question
the divine government has every thing to do.
Civil government is too clumsy an instrument to touch
all the secret springs of action, nor has the state eyes to
see them.   She must not, therefore, attempt to enforce
moral rectitude as judged by God; she must not go behind the intentions of man, as they relate to her own
459 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
interests. All she may demand is, that the conduct of
her subjects indicate loyalty of purpose towards her, leaving their duties to the divine government to a higher
tribunal   Every good citizen, whatever may be his particular
moral and religious views, will thus readily see what the
state justly requires of him, and will render cheerful
obedience to its demands.
460 
CHAPTER IX.
SOCIAL DUTIES.
WE have, in a previous part of the volume, distinguished
between prudential and moral virtue, the former springing from mere regard to interest, the latter from conscientious regard to duty. Thus President Edwards, adopting
the law epitomized by Christ as the rule of duty, defines it
as love to being n general. This singular definition of
universal benevolence is designed to include our obligation to God, to ourselves, and to all other beings, modified
by the nature and circumstances of each being, and our
particular relation to him.
We have seen that this law is niot an arbitrary enactment, but an embodiment of the essential elements of
moral right. Its finality, righteousness, and benevolence,
are found in the finality, righteousness, and harmonious
blending of its elements, and its consequent tendency to
promote the highest moral excellence and blessedness of
the universe. A beam of light from the sun is perfectly
white, because it has the due blending of all the elementary
rays. Remove one or more of them, and it ceases to be
perfectly white; it assumes a fiery, lurid, or sickly hue, 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
according as one or another ray is wanting. So the law
of God is benevolent, in a strictly moral view, only because it has the due blending of all the elements of moral
virtue. Remove from it justice, or veracity, or ally of its
elements, and it ceases to be righteous; and in ceasing to
be righteous, it of necessity ceases. to be morally benevolent. Did not the law require us to be just, truthful, &c.,
as well as merciful, it would not be a law of true moral
benevolence, for it would not tend to the highest welfare
of the moral universe.
Thus the justice of God, in a moral view, is as benevolent as his mercy.  " GOD IS LOVE."  Hiis moral attributes
are the elements of essential excellence harmoniously
blended, as proclaimed in his law of perfect and boundless moral benevolence. Now what he is in his sphere,
we ought to be in ours.  Some things are proper to him
which are not so to us, and some things are proper to us
which are not so to him, but both he and we are all morally bound by the same law of universal love.
The duties of all relations are in some sense social, but
as those which we have examined have specific names,
those of the more general relations now to be noticed, we
conveniently designate by the general term social duties.
They are the relations of master and servant, of teacher
and pupil, of neighbors, of fellow-citizens, and of fellowmen. These are all subject to the same law of benevolence which rules the others. " Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself;" not merely thy wife, husband, child,
parent, cousin, but thy fellow-being in every possible
relation. Let us first examine the several dispositions or
modifications of benevolence enjoined by this law in the
relations which remain to be noticed, and then the particular duties which they suggest.
COURTESY.-This is a disposition to treat others with
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THE CODE OF DITTIES.
due respect. Some respect is due to all, for all partake
of our common humanity. No rank nor dignity exonerates
a person from the duty of being courteous to those beneath
him.  The respect shown should be appropriate to its object, but always cordial and sincere.  This tends to prevent thle envy and scorn which are apt to arise between
the different classes of society.  It teaches every person
to know his place, and to respect himself in it while it
teaches him also to know the place of others, and to regard them with the same consideration that he claims for
himself.
It is related of Washington, that when a man asked
him why he returned a bow to a negro, his reply was,
"Do you think I would be outdone in courtesy by a
negro?" It is characteristic of great minds to be considerate of those in the hmnbler walks. This virtue, so indispensable in courts and all popular assemblies, is scarcely less so in ordinary intercourse. A discourteous person,
whether in the family, the drawing-room, the shop, the
street, the school, the exchange, or in legislative bodies,
is scarcely less an enemy to himself than a plague and
torment to others.  " Be courteous."
KINDNESS.-This is an advance on courtesy. Courtesy
respects; kindness beneefts.  The word indicates a regard
to the welfare of human kind. We ought to be kind to
all, even to the evil and unthankful. We thus become
"children of our Father which is in heaven; for he
maketh his sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and
sendeth rain on the just and on the unjust." To be kind
to those only who do us good, is no virtue; it answers no
demand of the moral law.
True kindness is also self-sacrictieng.  That man has
no claim to this virtue who submits to no inconvenience
and self-denial for the sake of doing a favor to others. It
463 
]MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
is moreover impartial. Benefits conferred upon favorites,
merely because they are favorites, do not proceed from
pure kindness, but from a lower motive.
FORBEARANCE.-This is nearly the same as long-suffering. It is endurance of others' faults. We are ever exposed to provocation from the unfaithfulness, the stupidity,
and the passions of men. IHence forbearance is a virtue
that should be ever on hand. A hasty spirit is irrational
and foolish.  "Be not hasty in thy spirit to be angry; for
anger resteth in the bosom of fools."
The forbearance of God is a lesson to us. We continually offend him, yet he forbears. Were he quick to requite, we  should be suddenly consumed.   But days,
months, years roll along; we continue to offend him, and
still he forbears. There is doubtless a limit beyond which
forbearance ceases to be a virtue, but that limit is not
reached until the resources of kindness have failed. If
the "riches of kindness and forbearance" are fatally despised, retribution must follow. But it should be with us
a retribution mingled with compassion, not with revenge.
"Avenge not yourselves, but rather give place unto
wrath; for it is written, Vengeance is mine, I will repay,
saith the Lord. Therefore, if thine enemy hunger, feed
him; if he thirst, give him drink; for in so doing thou
shalt heap coals of fire on his head. Be not overcome of
evil, but overcome evil with good." Leaving "vengeance"
to a higher power, it is ours to pity and compassionate,
even when compelled to punish.
CHARITY.-This is good will to all men. It is a generic,
all-pervading grace. It is the "greatest;" that is, the
most comprehensive of all. It disposes us to put a favorable construction upon the conduct of others, and never
to slander them. It rejoices in their prosperity, magnifies their virtues, and apologizes for their faults. It gives
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THE CODE OF DUTIES.
no indulgence to evil reports against a neighbor; and if
compelled by resistless evidence to believe them, makes
the least of them possible. It disposes one to be as tender
of another's good name as of his own. It " suffereth long
and is kind, envieth not, vaunteth not itself, is not puffed
up, doth not behave itself unseemly.   Charity seeketh
not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil;
rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth; believeth all things, hopeth all things, and never faileth."
The universal prevalence of this " greatest" of virtues
would turn back the tide of human woes, and go far towards restoring paradise.
HOSPITALITY.-Tliis is a disposition to open the home
and spread the table to our fellow-beings. It is to be exercised with discretion, but never with stint or grudge.
Few virtues more enliven the affections and bless the intercourse of social life than this.  They who are "given
to hospitality" and who " use hospitality one to another,
without grudging," seldom fail to secure friends and to
contribute to human happiness.
Hospitality is often more sincere and abundant in new
countries, or those thinly inhabited, than in more crowded
districts. This may be because there is more demand for
it. Under such circumstances, people are more dependent upon each other, and hence they more highly appreciate attentions.  In large towns hospitality often degenerates to cold formality, and sometimes quite disappears.
But mankind are still essentially the same unider all circumstances; and this virtue is really as needful in town
as in country, to awaken social and kindly affections, and
make neighbors happy in each other.
GENEROSrrY.-This is a disposition to give liberally to
worthy objects.  Indiscriminate and thoughtless giving is
not a virtue.  It is prodigality.   But a truly dis(rimina             20*
465
It 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
ting generosity is a noble, a divine virtue. It is our duty
to be just before we are generous; it is no less our duty to
be generous after we have been just.
The state can never afford to be generous; for she is
a public steward, and, therefore, if generous to some must
be unjust to others. But it is not so with individuals.
Of the state all is due to justice.   What are sometimes
called acts of state generosity, are only acts of justice to
deserving persons. But individuals may pay all their
debts, and yet have remaining the means with which to
be generous. What we call public spirit, is generosity
directed to public objects.   The man of generous public
spirit is a benefactor to the neighborhood, the town, the
nation.   Improvements, reforms, schools, churches, all
the means and appliances of human culture and happiness, feel the benign influence of his benefactions and
example.
FAITHFULINESS.-This is a disposition faithfully tofulfl
prormises.  A promise may be mutual and equally binding on both sides. A failure on one side then absolves
the obligation on the other. This is true of the marriage
covenant, and of most business engagements. If the husband or wife is proved to have been unfaithful, the other
party is absolved from the covenant. If one of the parties in a business transaction is found guilty of fraud, or
of a serious violation of promise, connected with the transaction, the other party is released from his obligation.
But there are uneonditional promises, or promises only
on one side, on which questions of duty are raised. Should
all such promises be kept?  The question is not whether
it was right to make the promise, but whether, having
made it, the party is bound to keep it.
The following are cases in which the spirit of faithfulness does not make the literal promise obligatory:
466 
THEii CODE OF DUTIES.
1. A promise to do a wrong act, is not obligatory. A
man under a bad impulse, may promise to do a wrong action, and may repent of it before the time for the action
arrives. His duty is plain.
2. An unfair promise extorted by threat, is not binding.  When a person, for instance, is forced to an unreasonable promise by a threat to take his life or property, or
to inflict any serious damage upon himself or his family,
he does not promise freely, and is not bound by his pro
mise.
But this does not imply that all promises made under
constraint may be disregarded.  Promises of amendment
may be obtained from the guilty by threat and punishment, and are as binding as those made with the highest
freedom of choice. For they are promises to do what
ought to be done, whether the promises are unconstrained
or forced, or whether the guilty persons do not promise at
all. Such are the promises made under just punishments and threatenings inflicted by magistrates, parents,
and teachers.
3. Promises obtained deceitfally, are not binding.  If
a man purchases a horse, or farm, or any article of merchandise, under false representations, promising to pay for
the same, on discovering the deception he is released
from his promise. The purchased property reverts to the
seller.
4. General promises unexpectedly and wickedly appliecd, are not binding. Such was the promise of Herod
to the daughter of Herodias.
During the first war with England, some of the Stockbridge Indians obtained a solemn promise from a woman
of a white settlement, that she would not reveal a secret
of which they were about to put her in possession. The
secret was, that on a certain night they were coming to
467 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
murder all the families in the settlement, and as she had
shown them some favors, they wished her to leave the
place before that time to save her own life. Believing it
to be her duty to keep her promise, she left the settlement
without revealing the secret.   The Indians came on the
proposed night, as they had purposed, and tomahawked
the families while asleep in their beds. The woman kept
her promise, but did not do her duty.   It was right to
obey her conscience, but wrong not to have better enlightened it. In keeping such a promise she was conscientiously
unreasonable.
The law of faithfulness demands, then, that the greatest caution and integrity of purpose be exercised in making promises, and that all promises justly made for lawful
ends be faithfllyfuljlled.
Having thus indicated the most important moral virtues or dispositions to be exercised in social life, I proceed
to notice the particular duties which they enjoin in the
various social relations.
DUTIES OF MASTER AND SERVANT.
The relation of master and servant, in some form, has
existed from a very early period, and their respective
duties are enjoined in the Bible. The rightfulness of the
relation, or whether it ought to exist, depends upon circumstances. No objection can be raised against voluntary servitude; as when a sailor places himself under a
ship-master. The question respects only involuntary servitude. That it is right for a man to bring unoffending
fellow-beings, who are under no obligations to him, into a
state of bondage, can never be pretended.
Still there are circumstances which make it right to
exact involuntary service. When a man has, by the
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.rlwE CODE OF DUTIES.
violation of law, forfeited claim to liberty, the state may
take it from him and compel him to labor, as in her prisons, in compensation for the expense to which he subjects
her. But no person has a just right to the involuntary
service of another, unless he has a fair demand upon him
which can be met in no other way. The right is then
limited by the demand. Sustaining the relation of master
is notper se immoral, but it is immoral to sustain it for
the mere benefit of the master and to the injury of the
servant. The crime does not lie in the master's power or
authority, but in his abuse of it. There are limits within
which the authority of the master may be as lawful as
that of the parent.   Nor are these limits doubtful.  Lawful authority is power over those who are in circumstances
of dependence, is limited by the demands of their condition, and is to be exercised with as much regard to their
welfare as to that of the person in authority.  It is only
as the man in authority observes this rule, that he loves
his dependent fellow-being as himself.
Our limits forbid an extensive discussion of this important subject; I would therefore submit the following
summary of what seems to be most essential, in a purely
ethical view.
1. To bring into bondage unoffending fellow-beings
under no obligations to us, is a crime condemned by every
principle of justice and humanity. Hence the criminality
of the slave-trade.
2. Laws conferring authority upon masters with reference to their benefit, which do not equally regard the
benefit of the slave, are to be held in the same light of
criminality with the slave-trade itself.
3. No blame attaches to those who, placed in the relation of masters by causes over which they had no control, or by motives benevolent on their part, regulate the
relation by the demands of justice and humanity.
469 
MORAL PILOSOPHY.
4. As the relation is that of power over feebleness and
of authority over dependence, those with whom the responsible power and authority are intrusted, should be especially careful to take no advantage of the feebleness and
dependence submitted to their guardianship.
5. As liberty is a most precious boon to all qualified
to appreciate and use it, those in possession of it should
do what they consistently can to secure the final and complete emancipation of all that are in bondage.
The rules of duty between master and servant are obvious and general, applying mostly to all the relations of
this nature, whether the service be voluntary or involuntary.
DUTIES OF AIASTERS.-The duties of masters are comprehensively the following:
1. They should be kind andforbearing to their servants. They should be careful not to abuse their power
over them. They should make due allowance for their
ignorance, their infirmities, the peculiar trials of their
condition, and thus do for them as they themselves should
wish to be done by in like circumstances.
2. They should treat them as rational and accountable
beings.  In this view they should, when practicable, explain their duty, expostulate with them, and secure their
obedience by reasonable motives. They should allow
them entire freedom of conscience, and opportunity for
religious worship and edification.
3. They should give them a just reward for their ser1!ice. They should take no advantage of their power to
exact more than is due. If the master has a claim upon
the servant, he should have the amount fairly adjusted,
allow the servant opportunity to cancel it, and be as conscientiously exact and just in his dealings with him, as he
ought to be with any other person. It is as wrong to deprive the servant of his due, as to "oppress the hireling
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THE CODE OF DUTIES.
in his wages," or to "turn aside the stranger from his
lights."  "Masters, give unto your servants that which
is just and equal, knowing that ye also have a master in
heaven."
DUTIES OF SERvANTS.-The duties of servants are briefly
these:
1. They should espouse the interest of their masters.
They should regard it as they would their own. Whether
they traffic, labor, build, cook, wait, or in any other way
serve, they should husband his resources, allow no waste,
do their work faithfully, and ever act with hearty reference to his welfare. " It is required in a steward, that a
man be found faithful."
2. They should never require the vigilance of their master's eye. A higher motive should always actuate them, a
regard to the eye of God. They should be as faithful in
the absence as in the presence of their master; for his
presence imposes no new obligation.  " Not with eye-service, as men-pleasers, but in singleness of heart, fearing
God. And whatsoever ye do, do it heartily, as to the
-ord, and not to man."
3. They should obey their masters. They must not
demand a reason, nor take it upon themselves to decide
what ought to be done. The ruling mind may often see
reasons which they cannot see. It may be sometimes the
master's duty to explain, but it is their duty to obey,
whether he explains or not, unless he requires them to
disobey God.
"Servants, obey in all things your masters according
to the flesh." " Be obedient to them that are your masters according to the flesh, with fear and trembling, in
singleness of your heart as unto Christ. With good will
oing service, as to the Lord, and not to man, knowing
that whatsoever good thing any man doeth, the same shall
471 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
he receive of the Lord, whether he be bond or free."
" Exhort servants to be obedient to their own masters, and
to please them well in all things, not answering again,
not purloining, but showing all goodfidelity; that they
may adorn the doctrine of God our Saviour in all things."
DUTIES OF TEACIIERS AND PUPILS.
Few relations are more delicate and responsible than
that of teacher and pupil. The most precious of all human interests are intrusted to it. The teacher's employers are engaged in absorbing pursuits; he must therefore
be himself mostly his own judge of both his duty and
fidelity. He should, then, exercise the most severe and
exacting conscientiousness in the discharge of his trust;
while the pupil, on the other hand, is equally bound to
do all in his power to accomplish the important object of
this relation.
DUTIES OF TEACHERS. The duties of a teacher are chiefly
the following:
1. He should thoroughly qualify himself for his task.
It is not enough to satisfy his committee or employers.
A more important satisfaction is due to his own conscience.
In bringing his mind to bear upon those of his pupils, he
realizes defects which no other person can see. His education may be incomplete, or there may have been recent
discoveries or improvements demanding his constant study.
He should never come before his class but with his mind
well prepared for his work.
2. He should maintain unform and  impartial discipline.  In order to this, he must control his own temper. His government should be uniform, like that of Him
who rolls the planets and rules the day in the same steady
course, that all may know what to expect. It should be
4:72 
THE CODE OF DUTIES.
impartial and parental, adopting the true welfare of every
pupil, and blending in itself both the paternal and the maternal government.  If resort must be had to the rod, it
should be with the reluctance of a parent's heart. But if
imperiously demanded, no false tenderness, no mawkish
kindness, may withhold it.  " Foolishness is bound in the
heart of a child, but the rod of correction will drive it far
from him." " Chasten thy son while there is hope, and
let not thy soul spare for his crying."
3. His instruction should be thorough. From the first
rudiments upward, this rule should never be relaxed.
There is often great temptation to relax it, but it cannot
be done but by a positive moral wrong to both child and
parent. Superficial habits of study, early or late acquired,
influence the entire character, and enter into the whole
field of subsequent life. M3any a man's success in life has
been defeated by wrong culture at school.  Education
should duly respect the physical, intellectual, and moral
culture, adapting itself to the age, health, capacity, and
circumstances of the pupil, so as to make the most of the
means enjoyed to develope a healthy, symmetrical, and
happy manhood.
DUTIEs OF PUPILS.-The pupil has his duties as well as
the teacher. He ought to consider the expense and selfsacrifice of his parents, and the labor and anxiety of
teachers, for his education, and gratefully to respond to
them with his corresponding endeavors. He should also
consider that the golden days which are to decide his destiny will soon pass away, and that if he neglects to improve them he will have to reflect upon his folly, as long
as he lives, with bitter and unavailing regret.
1. He should render cordial and  prompt obedience to
his teachers. The school or college is a state, whose government is vested in its teachers; and when the pupil
473 
MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
enters it, he is morally bound by its rules, as truly as the
citizen is bound by the laws of his country. Hence in
both cases alike, obedience is right and honorable, and
disobedience is immoral and base.
The pupil, like the good citizen, should not only himself obey, but he should diffuse the spirit of obedience.
If he thinks a rule unreasonable, he may take suitable
means to have it altered or repealed, but so long as it remains, he must obey it. Discipline can be maintained on
no other principle.   The pupil who disregards it, however confident at the time of being in the right, is sure to
find ill the event painful evidence that he was in the
wrong.
2. He should indlustriously apply him,esf to his studies.
Unless he does so, the most earnest endeavors of his teachers will be in vain. No genius can supply the demand
for effort. The pupil who relies upon the inspiration of
genius, while neglecting mental discipline, is doomed to
ultimate failure. The vain conceit of such an inspiration
is an iqnisfatuus, that has lured many a victim from the
path of industry and honor into the way of indolence and
disgrace.
No man ever attained to real greatness without severe
and protracted industry. This is especially true of intellectual greatness.  Genius may do much, but application
must do more, or the pupil will never rise to eminence.
Acting with this view, he will make a modest estimate of
his talents and attainments; he will be docile to learn and
earnest to apply himself; and the higher he rises, the
brighter he will shine in the grace of humility, the crowning glory of all excellence.
3. He should be courteous and kind to his fellow-students.  The happiness and prosperity of any literary institution depend much upon the mutual feeling and inter
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THE CODE OF DUTIES.
course among its members.   If the spirit of fraternal
courtesy prevails, government is easy and teaching delightful.  The mind does not thrive amidst a tempest of
evil passions, but where the feelings are composed and
kind.
And nowhere are ill-will and discourtesy more out of
place than in a literary institution, where the chafings
and frauds of business, the clamor of politics, the noisy
and vulgar strifes for gain, cannot enter; where chosen
and favored youth, retired from the world, and gathered
around the same altar, are unitedly engaged in the calm,
holy, and ennobling pursuit of knowledge. Such a place
should be eminently a school of good manners; of kind,
generous, chivalrous feelings; of all the social virtues.
Every pupil is morally bound to do his part towards making it such.
DUTIES OF NEIGHBORS.
A large portion of the happiness of individuals and
of families depends upon their doing the duties of good
neighborhood. To be a good neighbor is no mean virtue.
Many a man has attained to honorable fame abroad, who
is not so well spoken of at home. Even the rulers and
judges of the land are most in honor, only as they are embalmed in the affectionate esteem of their neighbors. To
be a good neighbor, is really a higher honor than to bear
the highest office or the proudest title.
The duties to which I refer involve all the cardinal
virtues, but the leading ones here demanded are kindness,
charity, and courtesy. Where neighbors are mutually
kind, sympathizing in each other's trials, and ministering
to each other's wants; where they exercise that charity
which " beareth all things," " thinketh no evil," and silences
the tongue of slander; and where they mutually practise
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that courtesy which softens, sweetens, and refines social
intercourse, there is good neighborhood.
DUTIES OF FELLOW-CITIZENS.
The love of fellow-citizens is to some extent a natural
affection. For the same reason that we have a peculiar
affection for the members of our own family, we have one
for the members of our own state. We are not conscious
of it, perhaps, while dwelling among them; neither are
we fully so of the family affection, while remaining at
home; but let us be called away to foreign lands, and
dwell among those of a " strange speech," and with what
conscious satisfaction do we greet a fellow-countryman.
As this feeling exists in nature, and mlust have been
implanted for some wise end, we infer that fellow-citizens,
as such, owe certain peculiar duties to each other.
1. They should cherish a fellow-affection as members
of the same state. They should love each other as children of the same country, as heirs of the same national
inheritance, as bound together in a great common cause,
and animated by a great common hope. They should
regard each other as compatriots.   Their safety, their repose, their prosperity, and even their national existence,
are their common interest, and, unless they are mutually
faithful in protecting it, will be inevitably lost.
The story of the Scythian king and the rods is as applicable to nations as to families. Those animating words,
fellow-citizens! which have so often thrilled the hearts
of compatriots in their united struggles for defence and
liberty, should never lose their power over them.
2. They should befriend and protect each other when
abroad. Members of the same state, they should every
where cherish the national feeling This is sometimes
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THE CODE OF DUTIES.
even more important abroad than at home, for they are
there more dependent upon each other, because few in
number and among a strange people.
But they may never clan together for the purpose of
resisting the laws of the state in which they travel or reside. While enjoying the protection of a state they are
bound to obey its laws, and to encourage others to do the
same. Neither may they, after becoming permanent
members of another state, so retain their national partialities as to sympathize together in concerted efforts for a
change of institutions. Such conduct is disorderly and
treasonable.
They are bound to merge their sympathies into the
adopted state, and to become in good faith part and parcel of it. They should not at first lead, but follow; they
should not dictate, but obey; as all other good citizens
do. Such should be the conduct of emigrants to this
country, and of Americans who become the subjects of
foreign states. If foreigners do not like the state which
they have chosen to adopt, they should leave it, or passively endure what they do not like and cannot lawfully
alter.
3. They should usually marry with each other i preference toforeign alliances.  A union of parties from different
nations not widely different, after becoming one in state,
is not always objectionable; but beyond this it becomes
a " strange " alliance, and seldom results happily. There is
usually more of romance and sorrow than of love and bliss
in such unnatural marriages.   Similarity of person, of
education, of habit, of taste, and of religious faith, are
important to a rational and permanent union of the wedded parties.
All the above rules were sacredly enjoined by God
upon the Hebrew nation, as means of its prosperity; and
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MORAL PHILOSOPHY.
although some reasons for them may have then existed
which are not now in full force, the general reasons are
still much the same.  Mankind, nations, and the means
of national and individual prosperity, are essentially the
same in all ages.
DUTIES OF FELLOW-MEN.
These are the duties we owe to every individual of the
human race, because he is ourfellow-being.  He is a partaker with us in a common humanity; he has the same
rational and accountable nature, has similar hopes and
trials, is amenable at the same ultimate tribunal, has been
redeemed by the same blood, and is passing on with us
to the same grave and the same eternity. These facts
bring him near to us, rendering him what the Scriptures
call our "neighbor."  With the same view they also call
him our "brother."  What are the duties we owe him as
such?
Wherever we meet him, at home or abroad, we ought
to do by him as we would have others do by us in like
circumstances. We should respect his interests, defend
his rights, seek his happiness, and do him all the good in
our power, consistently with justice to ourselves and to
those immediately dependent upon us.  "All thins whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so
to then, foe this is the law and the prophets."
Nor is it merely those whom we meet, to whom we
owe this debt of humanity.  Our "neighbor" may not be
as the man going to Jericho, so kindly relieved by the
good Samaritan, who, "as he journeyed, came where he
wasc."  Millions to whom we owe this debt we shall never
see. We shall not journey where they are, nor will they
come to us.  Still every man of them is our neighbor, our
brother, and we must pay him a neighbor's and a brother's
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THE CODE OF DUTIES.
debt. For this end, by the sacred love we bear, or ought
to bear, to our race, we are bound to do what we can, not
only for the welfare of those immediately about us, but
also to diffuse the blessings of education, of free institutions, of Christianity, of temporal welfare and immortal
hope, over the whole world.
CONCLUSION.
Scu,i then, are the duties of man; for these he was made.
And he should never forget, that, as he is the subject of
a righteous moral government, all his duties are also privileges. Hiis being in a fallen state, and thus disinclined
to them, does not absolve his obligation, nor, if he will
accept the proffered grace of the Gospel, his ability to perform them. To recover his spiritual lapse, by accepting
this grace; to repent of his departure from God, and to
return to his love and service; to trust in Christ alone for
"redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of sins; "
and thus to go forth, "in newness of spirit," to the duties
which we have considered; is to fulfil his obligation as a
rational being, and thus pursue the narrow way to eternal
life. It is a way of self-denial, of conflict with temptation,
of " patient continuance in well-doing," against the enticements of " the lust of the flesh, and the lust of the eye, and
the pride of life;" but it is not all self-denial, conflict, and
patience: incipient rewards, more valuable than mines of
gold, succeed every good endeavor, and are finally consummated in " a far more exceeding and eternal weight of
glory."
And there is no other way, however pleasant and in
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viting its beginning, that does not lead to disappointment
and ruin. So sure as man exists, he is undone by refusing this for any other course. For the principles which
we have examined are taught, as we have seen, both by
nature and revelation; they challenge the severest scrutiny; they are as true and abiding as the throne of God.
To know and obey them is the highest good.
To shine in wealth, to dwell in palaces, to fare sumptuously every day; to have honors and titles, or to command the world's admiration for illustrious genius or intellectual attainments, is all earthly and fleeting. These
are for a day, and all is gone!  "For all that is in the
world, the lust of the flesh, and the lust of the eyes, and
the pride of life, is not of the Father, but is of the world.
And the world passeth away, and the lust thereof; but he
that doeth the will of God abideth for ever."
The struggles and the pride of wealth, the lusts of
pleasure, the triumphs of ambition, the pursuits of knowledge, will soon be over. Time sweeps along, and bears
them all with it into everlasting oblivion.  But a character formed upon the principles which we have examined,
reposing firmly in the provisions of the Gospel, and rising
heavenward in a life of supreme and unwearying devotion
to life's great end, will abide and shine, amidst the splendors of eternity, when the universe is reduced to ashes.
All passeth away, but God liveth aye,
And changeth in naught; eternal His thought,
His Word and His Will are steadfast and sure;
His Truth and His Love will never decay,
They heal the sad heart of its deadliest smart,
And give it the life that will ever endure.
THE END.
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